Take Four

  Fitting, he told himself, that Art’s mother would want this dinner tonight. A week after Veteran’s Day. And maybe this was the best way to remember the privilege and hardship of serving the United States, surrounded by people who understood the sacrifice in a very real and personal way.

  By the time he reached the Collins’ house, Cody had convinced himself this was where he needed to be tonight, and that the most difficult thing about the coming hours wouldn’t be the awkwardness of Art’s empty chair, or the sadness in meeting his fiancée, or the challenge set forth by his mother that the group have fun. The hardest thing would be that Bailey should’ve been there with him.

  But tonight thoughts of her would only chill his heart and rob him of the mission ahead, so he put her out of his mind. Art’s mother met him at the door. She was a willowy African American woman with ebony skin and beautiful brown eyes. She introduced herself as Tara, and Cody knew instantly that she was a believer. She hugged Cody and thanked him for coming, then she held onto his arms and searched his face. “Art would’ve loved this. Yes, sir.” She smiled, even as tears gathered in her eyes. “I like to think he’s looking down right now wishing he could be here for dinner.”

  Dave walked up, a soft drink in his hand. “If it tastes as good as it smells, that’s exactly what he’s wishing.” He put his hand on Tara’s shoulder. “If you wouldn’t mind, I think maybe you should be the chef when we all get up there with Art.”

  Tara laughed, and the tears that had started in her eyes evaporated in joy. “Thank you, boys. Really. Thank you for being here.”

  They headed into Tara’s living room where ESPN was on a TV that sat over the corner fireplace. Three other guys from their unit were there, some with wives. Working alone in the kitchen was an exotically beautiful girl with long dark hair that swished around her face like something from a shampoo commercial.

  Tara led Cody by the hand and showed him the cooler of drinks. “Help yourself. Don’t be thirsty on me now.” She laughed and, after Cody grabbed a water bottle, Tara led him to the kitchen. “This is Cheyenne.” Her laughter faded, but her smile remained. “She was going to marry my Art.” Tara kissed the girl on her cheek. “He would’ve loved this, don’t you think, Chey baby?”

  “Yes, mama.” Cheyenne was stirring a pot of chili. She had brown doeeyes and a face that must’ve made people stare wherever she went. She was black like Tara, but her skin was much lighter, like maybe only one of her parents was African American.

  “This is Cody. He saved a whole bunch of boys in the war.”

  Cody felt his cheeks redden. “No, ma’am, it wasn’t like that. I was only—”

  “Now, Cody!” Tara held up her finger, her eyes teasing, “Don’t give me none of your lip. If I say you’re a hero, you’re a hero.” She turned to Cheyenne. “He’s a hero. That’s that.”

  Cheyenne giggled and wiped her hands on the towel hanging near the stove. “Nice to meet you, Cody.” She held out her hand.

  “Nice to meet you, too.” Cody took her fingers in his, nodding. He looked to Tara again. “Thanks for including me.”

  “This was Art’s favorite thing, everyone gathered together, sharing a big meal, laughing about old times.”

  A picture of Art came to mind, the big grin and muscled arms. Art had played college football for two years at Indiana university before being shipped out. “Being here…meeting you.” Cody pursed his lips. “Makes me miss him, ma’am.”

  “Well, now…we all miss him.” Tara gave Cody a side hug. “But Art woulda wanted us to celebrate today. Even a week late.” She nodded hard, clearly struggling with her emotions. “He’s in the arms of Jesus, so we got no reason to cry for Art. Not anymore.” Again her eyes shone with unshed tears, but her smile never let up. Not through dinner or dessert, and not afterwards when everyone gathered around the table for coffee and happy memories each had shared with Art.

  Cody mostly listened, but he looked at Cheyenne often. How must she feel, her plans for marrying Art and having a family shattered? Every now and then Cody caught her looking at him, too. A little later Tara brought out a deck of cards, a Michigan Rummy board, and a bag of jellybeans. “If the good Lord woulda wanted us to gamble with money, he wouldn’t have given us mortgages,” she laughed and everyone else did, too. She divvied up the jellybeans, and Cody sat next to Cheyenne.

  “I don’t know how to play,” she whispered to him. She was desperately shy, but the warmth of the evening had made them all feel like old friends.

  Cody smiled at her, and a strange feeling poked fingers at his heart. “I’ll teach you. Follow my lead.”

  The game was full of noise and celebration, highlighted by the moment when Tara cried out: “A royal flush! I got a royal flush.” She looked up toward the heavens. “You hear that, Art? Your mama got a royal flush!”

  Not until after midnight did the game end and people start making their way out to their cars. Tara stood at the door, hugging every one of Art’s former Army buddies, the way she must’ve once hugged Art. She didn’t cry or allow the moment to become sad. Rather she laughed with each one about something from the night, a funny story or the jellybeans or her royal flush. She patted each of them on the back and remarked again and again that, “Art woulda loved this.”

  Cheyenne had stayed close by ever since the card game, and now they wound up leaving at the same time, Cheyenne just before Cody. Only then did Tara stop and look long and intently into Cheyenne’s face. “Thanks for being here, baby. It meant the world to me.”

  “Ah, Mama,” Cheyenne framed Tara’s face with her slender olive-skinned fingers. “I wouldn’t have missed it.”

  “Seeing you…” Tara was still smiling, still beaming from the life that had filled her house that night. But now a hurried sob slipped into her voice. “I miss him. My Art.”

  Tara’s eyes pooled with tears for the first time that night. “I miss him too, mama.” She hugged Tara for a long time. “I always will.”

  Cody felt awkward, caught in the private moment between the two. He wished he would’ve left a few minutes earlier, but instead he could only try to stay back a little, giving the women their space. Cheyenne kissed Tara on her cheek and hurried down the steps. At the bottom, she turned and waited for Cody.

  “Ma’am, thank you for a great night.” Cody received the same hug the others guys had gotten. “This was right where I needed to be tonight.”

  “I thought so.” She pulled a list from a pocket in her sweater jacket. The list was worn and faded, something she must’ve carried around for years. She opened it and showed it to Cody. “See this? I have all your names, all the buddies Art went to war with.”

  Cody stared at the paper and, sure enough, his name was among a list of others—most of whom had filled the house that night. “You…” he looked up at her, “carry this with you?”

  “All the time. Art went to war believing it was a calling. He wrote to me after he landed in the desert, and he told me you boys were his mission.” She smiled, and it reached a weary place in Cody’s heart. “He prayed for you every day, Cody. After he died…” she sniffed in, struggling to keep control. A smile spread across her face, “After he went home to Jesus, I took over his work.”

  “You pray for us?” Cody was stunned. He’d come here thinking he was doing some sort of duty, trying to spread life where there was none. Nothing could’ve been further from the truth. Here in the Collins house, life breathed in all its abundance.

  “I do.” Tara glowed, her smile full and sincere, despite the few tears that slid down her cheeks. “I pray for you every day, Cody. The Lord told me you needed to be here tonight.” She nodded at Cheyenne waiting ten feet away. “Now go make sure that young lady gets to her car okay.” Tara raised a single eyebrow. “You hear me?”

  Cody smiled. “Yes, ma’am.” He loved Tara Collins, and he knew without a doubt he’d be back to see her again. Sooner than later. He thanked her again, and bounded down the stairs. Tara watched from
the door as Cody approached Cheyenne and walked with her to her car.

  “She’s a little protective,” Cheyenne whispered, stifling a couple giggles. She looked back over her shoulder and waved a few fingers at Tara. Then she turned a sincere smile to Cody. “No one loves me more than she does.”

  Cody heard the door behind them close, and he looked back to make sure Tara was no longer watching. Then he faced Cheyenne and angled his head. “I had fun tonight.”

  “It’s impossible not to have fun at Tara’s house.” Cheyenne made a silly face. “I mean jellybean Michigan Rummy? Everything about that woman’s pure fun.”

  “So you get the game now?” Cody had no idea why he was drawing this moment out. Maybe because he felt sorry for the girl. She didn’t seem to have moved on since losing Art two years ago. Or maybe because the two of them had a certain loneliness in common.

  “I get it. Thank you.” She did a slight curtsy. “You’re a good teacher, Cody.”

  “And you’re a good student.” He thought about asking her if she wanted to get coffee somewhere, an all-night diner maybe. He could find out more about her and tell her about himself. But the idea left as soon as it came. He took a step back. He wanted to call Bailey on the way home. “Nice meeting you, Cheyenne.”

  “You too.” Her smile was shyer now than it had been before. She climbed into her Volkswagen Beetle, shut the door, and with a final wave she was gone.

  He watched her go, and then he walked slowly to his truck. As he did, he heard the front door open and saw Tara step out onto the top porch step. “Cody Coleman,” she crossed her arms, her voice stern. “I hope you at least got her number.”

  “What?” Laughter caught Cody off guard. “No, ma’am, I didn’t.”

  “For heaven’s sake.” Tara shook her head. “I can see I’ll have to keep praying for you.”

  “Thank you, Tara.” He waved at her, still laughing. “Good night.” He climbed into his truck and realized this had been part of Tara’s plan all along, the reason she’d arranged for Cheyenne to sit next to him for the card game. Tara was trying to set him up with the girl Art had once loved.

  A sad sigh came from him as he drove off and headed for the freeway back to Bloomington. Cheyenne was beautiful and sweet, the sort of girl he might’ve liked to get to know if his life had been different. But as he drove away, only one face filled his heart and mind and soul. And as pretty as she looked, it wasn’t the face of Cheyenne. It was the face of Bailey Flanigan. The girl he would love until the day he died. He could only hope if Tara Collins prayed for him every day, somewhere along the way she would pray for the one miracle he needed now.

  That Benny Dirk would be arrested.

  Eighteen

  ANDI PARKED HER CAR IN THE empty Lake Monroe lot and stared at the shimmering water in the distance. The afternoon sun warmed her through the windshield and she settled back against the headrest. The sky was endless and blue from here, but even that didn’t stave off her anxiety. No one knew she was here, not even her parents or Bailey. This was the second week of filming, and the whole town was caught up in the excitement. Andi rolled down her window and breathed in the sweet air. The smell here was different than in town, near the university. Here wild lilacs and honeysuckle mixed with the fresh smell of lake water, beckoning her to stay, to let God’s beauty fill her senses and clear her head.

  She pictured Bailey today, working alongside Brandon Paul like it was the most normal thing in the world. They’d talked about him a few times since Brandon came into town for the screen test, and Bailey wasn’t interested. She had eyes only for Cody, and why not? Cody adored her. He had loved Bailey every day she had dated Tim Reed, waiting patiently for his time. No way Bailey would throw away the realness of Cody Coleman for a fast-living Hollywood guy. No way.

  But what about her? Who would there be for Andi and the baby boy growing inside her? She stared across the water, and on the far shore she watched a pair of deer creep free of the woods. They crossed the meadow and headed for the water’s edge. Who would stand by her when she made her move toward being a single mom? Yes, she had her parents support, but how long could she live with them? until she was twenty-five? Thirty? And meanwhile watching her only friend live out her dream of acting?

  Andi slipped her sunglasses into place, climbed out of her car, and locked it. She needed to walk, needed time to think about what she was doing. Not even three weeks had passed since she’d made up her mind to keep her baby. At first, the decision had brought an indescribable peace. A certainty she’d done the right thing. But since then? She pulled her sweater jacket tight around herself as she set out. What was wrong with her? And why couldn’t she hear God’s voice the way she needed to hear it? She walked down an empty gravel path until the trail turned, and after another fifty yards she came upon a bench. One she’d seen here before. She sat down and tilted her head up, savoring the sun on her face.

  What was this constant, gnawing nervousness in her? The uneasiness that stole her peace and made her wonder if she’d ever feel right and whole and content again? She spread her hands softly over her stomach, over the place where her little boy was safe inside her. He was her son and no one could take him away from her. God had made it clear—the choice was hers to make, and she’d made it based on a very simple bit of knowledge.

  The photos of her baby’s face.

  Looking at him, imagining him as a newborn, and a two-year-old, and a kindergartner, picturing him learning to ride a bike or take his first steps…she couldn’t imagine giving him away. Not now that she knew what he looked like, not when the lines of his face had etched themselves into a forever place in her heart. Andi ached at the thought of someone else—a stranger—going through those experiences with him. The photos still sat on the table beside her bed, and she looked at them every morning, every night. Nothing had changed about how much she loved this little boy, or how much she wanted to watch him grow up.

  But no matter what she did or how she prayed, she couldn’t get back to that place of perfect peace.

  Andi folded her arms in front of her and rested them on the small bump where her waist used to be. She watched the deer again, how they moved with caution across the open field and how while one drank from the edge of the lake, the other would stand watch. That’s how it should be. One standing watch. The scene made her think of what happened yesterday as she was leaving her history class. She was walking alone along a busy pathway through campus when, coming from the opposite direction, Taz almost knocked her down. He was with a group of film students, kids Andi recognized.

  None of them noticed her, not even Taz, until they nearly brushed shoulders. He started to smile and say, “Excuse me,” but then he realized who she was, and his eyes grew instantly dark. He caught a quick look at her extended stomach, and his expression could only be described one way: disgust. Like it was her fault she’d slept with him, her fault she’d wound up pregnant. He allowed a quick sadistic-sounding laugh and a shake of his head, as if even her presence turned his stomach. Then he jogged on to catch up with his friends.

  Andi stopped right in the middle of the mid-morning foot traffic along the pathway and watched him go. For almost a minute she felt like she might faint or drop to the ground from the sorrow and anger, the fury raging through her. How dare he look at her that way? Like she was yesterday’s rotten garbage? When she was finally able to walk again, her entire body shook and she remembered a Scripture she and Rachel had looked at back when they were seniors in high school.

  It was the story of Tamar and Amnon from the Old Testament. The thing Andi remembered was that Amnon had a burning desire for Tamar, and so he called her to his room, feigning an illness. Tamar came to help, bringing cakes and homemade food for him, and taking it into his room since he was too sick to get out of bed. But then Amnon pulled Tamar to himself and raped her.

  The verse Andi remembered yesterday as she walked away from the scene with Taz was the one where it says that after Amnon
slept with Tamar, he despised her with a hatred greater than the lust with which he had once desired her. In other words, Amnon had it bad for a girl, he forced himself on her, and then he despised her. When Andi and Rachel had read the story their senior year, Rachel had been very touched by it.

  “If every girl read that story, maybe they’d stay away from bad guys,” Rachel had said.

  It was a conversation that should’ve come to Andi when she was first hanging out with Taz. Andi squirmed on the bench, looking for a position that would relieve the ache in her back. But there was none. She lifted her eyes to the blue above, and she thought about the other detail that had come to light yesterday. At home after the ordeal on campus, Andi had gotten on the computer and googled Taz’s student film, the one where she allowed him to film her topless. Every muscle in her chest and stomach tightened at what she found. According to Google, the film was becoming something of an underground cult favorite. Kids were downloading it and watching it on their iPods and phones. The information she found praised Taz for being an up and coming director, and for using cutting-edge style and technique—whatever that meant. They also said the nudity was handled tastefully. Two words Andi no longer believed had a right in the same sentence—tasteful and nudity.

  Already twice she’d been in the cafeteria or in a class when a couple students started whispering and looking in her direction. Did that mean they’d seen the film? Were they snickering because they’d seen her virtually naked? Or because she was pregnant? Each time she wondered if this was what Mary Magdalene had felt.

  How could Taz have talked her into such a thing? And now proof of her poor choices would circulate around Indiana University and so many other college campuses forever. She could never round up all the copies and destroy the evidence of her rebellion. Her innocence was gone, and there was no way to get it back. She’d told her parents about the film, of course, and they had grieved with her and prayed with her, hoping it was a piece of work that would fade into oblivion.