Longing

  His words must’ve been just what she needed to hear, because her eyes teared up, even though there wasn’t a hint of sadness remaining in her smile. “That’s why I love you. Because you run toward me.”

  “And I’ll keep running. I’ll fight for you until you tell me to stop.” He pulled her close and cradled her head against his chest. “Love always involves fear. There are no guarantees about tomorrow for any of us. But in the meantime, while we’re waiting for answers … while we’re wondering what’s at the end of this road … I want to walk it with you.”

  “Fearless?”

  “Pretending to be fearless.” He ran his hand over her hair, her back. “What does the Bible say about love? Perfect love?”

  “It casts out fear.”

  “Right. So that’s the way we have to live. When fear comes, we let our love send it packing.”

  “Okay.” She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tighter than usual … longer than usual. They didn’t say much until ten minutes later when he finally had to leave. There was no need to rehash what they’d talked about. The reality was more complicated than the exchange of a seaweed ring on New Year’s Eve along a Malibu shore. Their lives, their careers, and passions would prevent any long-term relationship, and until something changed no certain answers existed. Except one. The one that came from the Bible. When love was perfect, it would always cast out fear.

  Again and again and again.

  Sixteen

  JENNY FLANIGAN FELT MOVED TO PRAY FOR BAILEY MORE OFTEN lately, and even though she had no explanation for her feeling, she heeded it. Sometimes every hour of the day. It was Wednesday, almost halfway through January, and tonight Ricky’s middle school church group was meeting at their house. The group took turns at different locations, and always when it was at their house the crowd seemed to swell. The Flanigans had more room, and so friends were welcome. It was a good chance to reach new kids.

  She and Jim finished adding chairs to the circle in the living room, and she turned on the fireplace. It would take a few minutes for the flames to heat the room, and with the cold outside, Jenny wanted their meeting place extra toasty.

  They were nearly finished setting up when Jim stopped and looked at her. “Did I tell you about Ryan Taylor?”

  “No.” Jenny leaned against the back of the chair she’d just moved in and blew at a wisp of hair that had fallen from her ponytail. “What about him?”

  “The Colts made him an offer. This morning.”

  “Jim!” She shrieked her response and immediately put her hand over her mouth. She lowered her voice. “Are you serious? That’s amazing!”

  “I was going to call you on the way back from the practice field. But I forgot about it until now.” He stood straight, his arms crossed. “The owners loved him when he came in for the interview last week. He’ll fit in perfectly with the staff.”

  “That’s the greatest news. I’ll have to call Kari in the morning and celebrate with her.” The Baxters had been friends of the Flanigans for years. Kari was the oldest of the Baxter siblings, and she’d been married for nearly ten years to Ryan Taylor. Ryan had some pro experience, but he’d coached Clear Creek for the last several seasons. Suddenly another question hit Jenny. “What about the head coaching job at Clear Creek?”

  Jim laughed. “I was waiting for you to ask.” He raised his brow. “What do you think?”

  She sucked in a quick breath and held it. “Not Cody Coleman!”

  “Why not?” Again Jim laughed. “Can you think of someone more perfect for the job?”

  This time Jenny screamed out loud before she caught herself. “Jim, I can’t believe it. I prayed about this exact thing. That Cody might return to Bloomington. Because he needs to be closer to family and he’s spent long enough out there in Lyle. Plus our boys need to play for him, especially Ricky who hasn’t even started high school.” She rattled off five more quick reasons before she stopped and laughed at herself. “Cody’s coming back to Clear Creek! I can’t believe it.”

  “He only heard about the position this morning.”

  “So.” Jenny laughed. “He’ll get it. You and I both know that.”

  Jim came to her and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. “That’s why I love you. Because you’re so subdued, so subtle.”

  “Hey … I can be subtle when I want to.”

  “Subtle as a rifle.” He kissed her, and his eyes told her he wouldn’t have it any other way. “And listen … it’s not for sure yet. Cody asked for time.”

  “Time?” Jenny tried to imagine a single reason. “I figured he’d be halfway here by now.”

  “Not quite.” Jim brushed the hair back from her forehead. “He’s gotten attached to those kids at Lyle. It’s a big decision.”

  Jenny nodded, understanding. “I’m sure they love him. Same as we do.”

  “Exactly.”

  They returned to getting the house ready for Bible study, and the whole time Jenny prayed for Cody, and for God’s will with the Clear Creek football program. But that wasn’t all. She prayed for Cody and Bailey too. She took a bowl of fresh apple slices to the sink and ran cold water over them. As she did, a picture came to mind: a memory she hadn’t thought about in years.

  It was Fourth of July and Cody had just returned from Iraq. He’d been a prisoner of war for months, and none of them had been sure they’d ever see him again. But that day, in the hours before the Flanigans’ backyard picnic, they did know Cody was coming home — they just hadn’t expected him for another week or so.

  Jenny remembered the moment as clearly as if she were watching it play out again in front of her. Jenny had been upstairs when the doorbell rang. She moved to her bedroom door, ready to jog down and answer it. But before she could make a move, Bailey had appeared from the kitchen area and opened the front door.

  And there he had been: Cody Coleman. Walking with crutches, and looking years wiser than he had when he left for training the year before. He came into the house and took Bailey into his arms. The hug they shared, the look between them, had made Jenny feel like an intruder. But even still she couldn’t turn away. And she remembered thinking then a thought that stayed with her over the years: No one would ever love Bailey the way Cody Coleman loved her.

  Jenny turned off the water and let the apple slices drain through the bottom of the colander. Lately she’d wondered about that thought, about Cody’s love for Bailey. Images filled her mind, pictures she’d seen on Google, the ones the paparazzi caught every day or so of Bailey and Brandon. The way Brandon’s eyes were always on her, no matter the picture. How there was no denying the adoration in his expression or the way he kept his hand at the small of her back, his arm around her shoulders. The love he felt for Bailey was so strong, so beautiful the whole world wanted a window to watch.

  So maybe Cody’s love was only a part of Bailey’s past — the guy who taught her what it felt like to care so strongly. Maybe God had brought Brandon into her life for more than a distraction, more than a way to comfort her broken heart over the way Cody had walked out of her life.

  Maybe Brandon was the guy God intended for Bailey all along.

  “The kids are here.”

  She blinked and the thoughts left as quickly as they’d come. “What about Landon?”

  “He’s here too.” Jim kissed her cheek. “Need help?”

  “No, thanks.” She wiped her damp hands on her jeans. “Apple slices and barbecue potato chips. I think we’re set.”

  He glanced at the apples and gave her a doubtful look. “Wishful thinking, honey. Hope you have an extra bag of chips.”

  She laughed and finished setting the counter with the snacks. Landon Blake was their guest speaker tonight. His new role working with the sheriff department’s drug intervention program was bringing him fresh purpose. Jenny had talked with Ashley about it yesterday.

  “Ever since Christmas, it’s like the old Landon is back.” Ashley had sounded like she could cry over the change. “H
e’s seen too many people overdose on drugs, been on too many calls where it wasn’t a fire, but a lost life that caused them to respond. This new program … it’s his way of saving people like he used to. Just without the smoke and flames.”

  Jenny loved that, loved the way God’s plans for people sometimes changed, but no matter what the purpose remained. And it remained in a good way. Tonight the Bible study was on holiness. Being set apart from the crowd. Not giving in to the ways of the world. Landon would finish up by telling the kids what drug addiction looked like, how to recognize it in their friends, and how to report it if they were concerned.

  In no time the study got underway, and after reading several Bible verses, Landon took the floor. “How many of you know that kids at Clear Creek are doing drugs?”

  Jenny felt a flicker of discomfort from the place where she sat at the back of the room next to Jim. She’d like to think that none of them knew this, because none of the kids at Clear Creek were really using. But in the room of fifty kids, at least half of them raised their hands. Among them were Justin and Shawn.

  “What?” She whispered. Her heart raced at twice its usual speed as she slid to the edge of her seat and watched. Beside her, Jim squeezed her hand, clearly as troubled as she was.

  “Okay, you can put your hands down.” Landon took a handful of plastic Ziploc bags from the kit he’d brought with him. “Kids at Clear Creek are smoking pot.” He held up a bag that contained a small sampling of what looked like marijuana. “They’re doing cocaine.” Again he held up a bag, this time with a small amount of a white, powdery substance. “They’re doing ecstasy.” The next bag held small white pills. “And they’re doing heroin. Especially lately, because it’s less expensive. People who used to do meth have switched to something cheaper.” He lifted the last of the bags. “You’ll see there’s more than white powder in the bag. There’s also a small end piece to a rubber balloon. If one of your friends has these lying around their car or in their backpack, you can be almost sure they’re doing heroin. Because that’s how heroin comes — tied in small pieces of balloons.”

  Jenny was horrified. This was all news to her. She liked the idea of having the kids’ friends over, liked thinking of them working toward the next football season and getting excited about whatever school dance was coming up. The idea that their friends might be doing heroin was enough to make her sick to her stomach.

  But even as she didn’t want to believe it, she saw a few of the kids nodding along. They were as aware of the situation as Landon was, and the reality shocked Jenny like little had in a long time.

  “Sometimes,” Landon put the Ziploc bags back in his kit, “kids at school are involved in something and everyone sort of makes a pact. Like, don’t ask … don’t tell. Kids keep secrets for each other.” He paused, pacing in front of them, making eye contact with some of the guys who had nodded earlier. “No one wants to tell on their buddy, right?”

  The response was less obvious, but Jenny was still amazed. Landon had every kid’s attention. As if all of them could relate in some way to what he was saying.

  “But guess what, guys? Your silence could kill one of your friends.” He waited, letting his words hit their mark. “That’s right. When I was a firefighter, sometimes the calls involved drug overdoses. I’ll tell you about a call we took last year after homecoming. The kids were in their early twenties, Clear Creek graduates, still home for the summer, not quite back to college. A group of them came to the game and left at halftime, looking for more action, more excitement.”

  Throughout the room, the kids were glued to the story.

  “Around eleven o’clock someone brought over a bag of cocaine and a few balloons full of heroin. Some of the kids had used drugs before, but Darien had stayed away from it. Always at the party, but never doing the partying.”

  A few of the kids exchanged looks, and Jenny figured they could relate. If drugs were really that big of an issue, then lots of kids probably attended the parties where the using went down.

  “Anyway, Darien decided — what with it being homecoming and all — that he would use a little heroin too. Just that one time. But the heroin made him feel sky high, and he figured maybe a little cocaine would make him feel even better … that, and a few beers.”

  Landon stopped, waiting until he was sure he had every student’s attention again. “By the time his friends found him the next morning, Darien was blue. His skin was cold and he hadn’t been breathing since maybe one or two in the morning.” Landon folded his arms, his voice heavy with emotion. “Darien was a college athlete, a kid who had avoided the party scene year after year until that moment. He was the only boy in a family of girls, a kid with good grades and a dream of being a lawyer when he finished school.”

  Jenny heard a few of the girls sniffling, saw them wiping tears.

  “He did drugs one time. Just once.” Landon lowered his voice, respecting the fact that the story was hitting its mark. “He never called home, never asked for help. Never said goodbye to his parents or his sisters.”

  One of the girls uttered an audible sob, and she buried her head in her arms. A few of the guys were sniffling too.

  “I talked to his mother at the hospital, and I’m pretty sure about this. The questions in her eyes will stay there the rest of her life. She kept saying the same thing over and over. ‘Darien doesn’t do drugs … I just don’t get it. I don’t understand.’ “

  Jenny felt two tears slide onto her cheek, and she wiped them quickly, blinking so she could see clearly as Landon finished his presentation.

  “Here’s the thing … Darien thought those guys were his friends. But they never really were. Because they gave him drugs. And his real friends — the ones who knew what Darien was getting into that night, the ones who didn’t say anything or try to stop him — they can never go back and change it.” Landon clenched his jaw, a controlled anger sounding in his voice. “I’d like to say this. Real friends … don’t give you heroin and cocaine.” He took a step closer. “And they don’t stand by and do nothing if they think one of their buddies is doing drugs.”

  Landon explained that he would be there for half an hour after the Bible study was finished. “If you’ve seen something, if you have even the hint of a doubt about one of your friends, then come tell me. I’ll follow up; I’ll be the bad guy.” He paused. “You be a friend. That sort of friend Darien could’ve used after Homecoming last year.”

  Jenny wasn’t sure which she wanted to do more — break down and weep or give Landon a standing ovation. Whatever work he’d done saving people from burning buildings, nothing could’ve been more important than the talk he’d just given these fifty kids.

  And later when she watched her own boys — Justin and Shawn — approach Landon and tell him about some of their friends, she could hardly wait to call Ashley. Because her husband had definitely found his purpose.

  He was saving lives like never before.

  CODY PRAYED ABOUT THE OFFER from Clear Creek High, but in the end the decision was easy. Clear Creek was where he’d first fallen in love with football, and it was where he’d first decided to coach the game. If God was calling him back to Bloomington, he would go. Cody had told the Lyle High administration, and already one of the experienced middle school coaches was quietly being asked to take over. The Lyle High leadership was at peace with his decision.

  Telling the guys in a month or so would be much tougher.

  His meeting that week with the Lyle football players was one of the hardest in Cody’s life. Not because he was announcing his departure — that would come in March, after the administration was sure about his replacement. Rather, the meeting was difficult because Cody knew his goodbyes were looming. He knew and none of his players had even the slightest idea.

  Their time together that week was more of a checkup, a chance to turn in equipment from the month before and look ahead to the off-season and spring training. Six guys were graduating, among them DeMetri Smith and Larry S
anders, along with Arnie Hurley. But there were new kids coming up, fresh faces all looking to him and to the program they’d built in just a year.

  Cody was glad he had a little time before telling them goodbye. Especially now when Chey was so sick and Cody could hardly think about football.

  He pulled up outside of the doctor’s office and hurried up the stairs to the front door. Cheyenne was worse. They could no longer use words like stable to describe her condition.

  Tara worked today, so Cody had dropped Cheyenne off at the doctor’s and now — a few hours later — he would take her across the street for another MRI and a meeting with her oncologist. Even though Cody had a front row seat to watch Cheyenne be beaten down by her brain cancer, there were moments when he saw the gravity of her situation fresh again. As if it had been weeks since he’d seen her and he was only now realizing how sick she’d gotten.

  Today was one of those days.

  He walked into the chemo room and stopped in the doorway. A nurse was disconnecting her IV, giving her a sip of something, comforting her. And for a single instant Cody didn’t recognize her. He even glanced quickly around the room to see if maybe she’d switched beds. Because the girl sitting where he’d left Cheyenne looked almost skeletal. Her cheekbones jutted out and her bald head looked too big for her body.

  Dear God … I can’t do this … why won’t You heal her?

  Cody walked toward her.

  My son, my grace is sufficient for you.

  He set his resolve. There was a time long ago when grace held only a narrow definition for him. When it meant the way God forgave him for his past, for the way he had treated girls, and for his partying. And certainly God extended that type of grace. But lately he’d come to know the deeper meaning of the word. How God’s grace didn’t only pardon him from sin; it carried him through pain.