Her apartment manager was buying her bedroom set in exchange for the past month’s rent. Another easy transaction. But every movement, every one of her belongings he lifted into his truck that morning and dropped off at Goodwill was like ripping away another piece of his heart. Each minute of this awful day just another reminder. She didn’t have long. Sure, she’d been more stable the last few days, but the end wasn’t far off.
Cody set his eyes straight ahead and drove out of the Goodwill parking lot and back toward Tara’s. It was the last Saturday in January and the doctors were on board with Chey’s decision. She would stay at home in Tara’s guestroom until God took her to heaven. They’d refused hospice for now. Tara had taken a few weeks off work, and Cody was able to come every day after school. The doctor had warned they’d need hospice eventually. It would be better for all of them. But Cody didn’t want to call for help until it was absolutely necessary.
When he got back to her, Tara was asleep on the couch in the front room. Exhausted like they all were. Cody found his resolve and headed down the hall to the room where Cheyenne was staying. The drapes were open, sunlight streaming in through a break in the clouds. Much of the time lately Chey slept, tired from the cancer and a combination of the drugs she was taking to lessen her constant pain.
But right now she was propped up in bed, a peaceful look on her face. She turned at the sound of him and smiled — the sort of smile he hadn’t seen in too long. “Hi.” Gratitude shone in her eyes. “You’re already finished?”
“Yes.” Cody came into the room and took the chair beside her bed. “Everything you asked.”
“You found the boxes?” She sounded content, like they were merely having a conversation about a trip to the grocery store and not the elimination of all her earthly belongings.
“I did. They’re in the living room.” He wanted to cry, wanted once more to shout out loud that they couldn’t possibly be doing this, talking about cleaning out her apartment because she would never go home again. Instead he clenched his teeth and studied her, waiting. “You have enough clothes here, right?”
“I do.” She searched his face, her great appreciation apparent. “Thank you, Cody. What you did today … it means a lot.”
“Not a problem.” Cody didn’t know what else to say. He wanted to talk about something else, anything else. “You … look good.” He angled his head, giving her a smile he hoped didn’t look as sad as he felt. “Feeling better?”
“I am.” She breathed in slowly, more full of life than anytime in the past week. “I saw you pull up. I thought maybe … we could talk.”
He nodded and reached for her hand. For a long time he only held it, trying not to notice her bony fingers or the way her skin felt thinner, dryer. “What’s on your mind?”
She waited, letting the question sink in. “Heaven.” She smiled. “You. Your trip to New York.” She uttered a quiet laugh. “A lot, I guess.”
“Well … I don’t really want to talk about heaven.” He managed a crooked grin. “If that’s okay.”
“For now.” She laughed once more, light and breathy. The sound was another reminder of her weakness. “We can talk about that at the end.”
He breathed in sharp through his nose. “I thought I told you about New York.”
“You told me about the interview and DeMetri’s loquaciousness. And about seeing Hairspray.” Her eyes danced at the memory. But just as quickly the light faded some. “But you didn’t tell me about Bailey Flanigan.” She paused. “Did you see her?”
Cody released her hand and leaned over his knees. For a few seconds he stared at the beige carpet. “She’s in the show, Chey.” Then he lifted his eyes to her, more tired than he’d felt before. “Yes. I saw her.”
“But you didn’t tell me about it. Whether you talked to her.”
“I did. Not very long. She was with Brandon Paul … and she had to meet with the fans.”
Cheyenne nodded slowly. She looked out the window again, in no hurry to get to the next part of the conversation. Finally she looked at him, and again her smile reached all the way to her soul. “You still love her.”
She had done this before, uttered a statement about Bailey that held not even a hint of questioning. As if the truth of the words was a given. “Cheyenne …” he whispered her name, then looked at the floor again. After a long time he raked his hand through his short dark hair. “Why do you say things like that?”
“Is it uncomfortable for you?” She reached for his hand.
“Yes.” He hesitated, but he took her fingers in his. “Very uncomfortable.”
“Because it’s true.”
A long breath rushed from him, and he worked to keep his frustration at bay. “Do we have to talk about this?”
“It’s okay, Cody. I understand.” Her eyes found the blue sky outside her window. “You know how I feel about Art.”
Her comment should’ve hurt at least a little. But it didn’t. Further proof that his feelings for Cheyenne were friendship. That they had always only been friendship. But maybe if she hadn’t been in the car accident, if she hadn’t gotten sick …
“I think …” he began, “I think you and I … we had a chance.”
“We did.” Again there wasn’t a hint of doubt in her voice. “If life had been different, I could’ve loved you. Really loved you.” She faced him, her smile colored by a knowing he’d never seen before. “But if I’m honest with myself, nothing we could’ve shared ever would’ve been exactly like Art and I had together.”
Cody tried to understand why she was doing this, why she felt it so important to tell him how she’d always loved Art more. Why she wanted to talk about Bailey. Maybe because she didn’t want to face death feeling anything but glad for whatever was next in Cody’s life. Didn’t want to head to heaven with even a hint of jealousy. Cody wasn’t sure. He released her hand again and sat up straighter, wanting to change the subject as badly as he wanted his next breath.
But Chey wasn’t ready yet. “The thing is, I saw the way you looked at her that day. At the football game.” Her smile stayed, proof of either her great inner strength or her sincere peace with the topic. “When the two of you looked at each other, there was no one else in the stadium. No one.”
“She has a boyfriend.”
“I know.” Chey brought her fingers to her brow and massaged her temples. She winced and sucked in a sharp breath. “What is it … what can I get you?”
“Nothing.” She shuddered slightly and shook her head, as if to tell her body she wasn’t willing to let the pain have the upper hand. Not now. “I can’t take anything else for another hour.”
Cody sat back, amazed at her strength. She was in the final stages of brain cancer. Certainly if she wanted more pain medication she could have it. But she wanted these days to be lucid and as normal as possible. So pain was a regular part of her life. “There’s a reason why I bring this up.”
He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it. “It’s sort of pointless. She lives in New York and she’s in a serious relationship.”
“This isn’t about her.” Her expression relaxed, the pain wave subsided for now. “It’s about you.” She focused her eyes intently on his. “When I thought about this moment, this conversation … I always thought I would tell you to find her. After I’m gone … or before, if you wanted. Find her and fight for her and tell her how you feel.”
It was exactly the direction Cody figured this was going. Her statement confused him, and he knit his brow together. “That’s not what you’re going to say?”
“No.” The concern and caring in her eyes doubled. “Being sick, I’ve had time to think about you. How much love you have inside you … how much you have to give.” She reached out and took his hand again. “So much love.”
He felt the sting of tears, but he willed himself to be strong. He needed to hear her out, understand what she was getting at. “My real question, Cody, is why? Why did you leave her?”
“Bailey?”
His heart picked up its pace. Wherever this was headed, he was pretty sure he didn’t want to go there.
“Yes.” She grimaced a little, but somehow found the ability to ignore the pain again. Outside the sun disappeared behind another bank of clouds, casting gray shadows over the bedroom. “You were there for me … because you walked away from her.”
How would he ever explain this? He felt frustration well up inside him and he sucked in a deep breath and held it. “It’s a long story.”
“Not really.” She ran her fingers along his, loving him, her voice the picture of patience. “When you love someone … like you think you love Bailey … you never walk away. Not for any reason.”
“She … she deserved someone better than me.” He squeezed Chey’s hand and stared at the floor again. “I was the bad kid, the guy her family helped out. She was … she was this ideal, this perfection. I was never good enough for her.”
“There it is.” Cheyenne released his hand and helped herself sit a little higher in the bed. Her tone grew more intense. “How many times have you walked away from that girl?”
Cody wanted to run, wanted to leave Cheyenne and get in his truck and drive as far and fast as he could from here. His relationship with Bailey was none of her business. No one had the right to ask him about this, about the times he’d walked away. “I always had a reason.”
“You weren’t good enough? Really, Cody?” She laughed, but the sound was beyond sad. “You’re a war hero, for heaven’s sake. You would’ve laid down in front of a bus for me … and I’m sure you would’ve done that for her too. You watched her grow up and your eyes say you still love her.” Cheyenne narrowed her eyes. “But you always ran.” She held his gaze, gathering her strength. “So … that tells me that deep inside, I’m not sure she’s the right girl for you, Cody.”
“She’s not.” His tone was nervous, desperate to change topics. “She’s dating someone else.”
“That’s not the point. If you wanted to be with her, you would’ve demanded she come talk to you in New York City, and you would’ve told her you weren’t leaving until you shared your feelings for her. If you wanted her, you would’ve never walked away that Thanksgiving … just because she was filming a movie with some Hollywood star.” She lowered her chin. “You think I haven’t put the pieces together. But I have. The two of you were dating, and you just left her, Cody. You walked away.”
He clenched his jaw. Why was she doing this, taking him back to that time? The walls felt like they were closing in around him, and he closed his eyes. “What’s your point, Chey … why are you saying this?”
“Because I think God showed me something. I think you’re in love with the idea of Bailey Flanigan more than you’re in love with her. If a girl makes you feel like you’re not good enough, then maybe you never will be. It’s not her fault … not your fault. But maybe with her you never could’ve been the amazing man of God, the selfless friend, and the romantic strong guy you could be … with someone else.”
Her words crushed him, pushing in around his heart and suffocating his soul. He wanted to shout at her and tell her she was crazy, that she couldn’t possibly know him that well, and that the reason he’d left Bailey time and again was because he was young and immature and he hadn’t known how to handle her, hadn’t understood that he could deserve a girl like Bailey.
But he couldn’t say it, couldn’t refute her. He closed his eyes for a few seconds and a voice resonated in his heart.
Listen, my son … wisdom is precious …
He blinked and looked again at Chey as the realization in his heart took root. Because along with the heaviness on his chest was something he hadn’t expected to feel, a voice he didn’t want to acknowledge.
The voice of Truth.
“Maybe … maybe you and Bailey will find your way back together.” Cheyenne didn’t sound threatened by the idea. But she didn’t sound okay with it, either. “But when I picture you years down the road … I picture you with someone better.” She didn’t hesitate more than a few seconds. “Not better than Bailey, but better for you. Someone who makes you feel good about yourself, whose love makes you feel … ten feet high.”
He felt the tears again. “This … the way I ran so many times …” He struggled, trying to find his voice. “It was never Bailey’s fault. She tried to make me stay.”
“I’m not blaming her. I’m just saying … if she was the right girl, you wouldn’t be sitting across from me right now.” She crossed her arms, her voice sadder than at any point in the conversation. “I would just be a girl you met at a dinner party once at Tara Collins’ house. A girl whose name you probably wouldn’t even remember. Because you’d still be in Bailey’s life. And she never would’ve started dating Brandon Paul …” She let her voice fall quiet, to almost a whisper. “If Bailey was the right girl.”
Cody couldn’t fight the crushing sorrow another minute. He dug his elbow into his knee and pressed his head against his fist. Bailey was the right girl. She had been the right girl all of his life, right? From the time he’d met her. And his leaving, his running had never been her fault. She had tried to tell him that too many times to count. But somehow … in some way Cody hated to admit, Cheyenne had to be at least partly right.
Because in the end, Cody left Bailey. He always left.
Whether that was because he still saw her as a little girl, a younger sister … or if it was because he couldn’t hold his head up around someone so pure, Cody wasn’t sure. The only thing screaming at him were the basic truths, the fact that Cheyenne had to be right about some of what she said. After all, he was sitting here.
“I’m sorry.” She leaned toward him and put her hand on his shoulder. “I didn’t want to upset you. I guess … no offense to Bailey … but if you can’t feel ten feet high with her, there’s someone else, Cody. Someone who will make you feel like the amazing, tremendous guy you really are.”
Cody dragged his knuckles across his cheeks, drying the few tears that had slipped. He didn’t want to talk about this, not before and not for another minute. But he had one question for her: “So, when you think about my future, you want me to let go of Bailey Flanigan, is that it? You think there’s someone out there better for me?”
“Yes.” A perfect peace filled her eyes. “That’s what I’m saying.” She tilted her head. “You’re not a runner, Cody. You’re a fighter. You saved your whole unit when you were a prisoner of war and you found a way to live, to come home again.” She hesitated, never looking away. “You stayed here with me when any other guy would’ve bolted. Through the accident … through the cancer. You’re loyal and faithful and committed.”
Her words were like a balm to his breaking heart. She was right. He would only run in war if there had been no possible way to take on the battle. If a fatal outcome was practically certain. The way it had felt with Bailey. The fact that she thought so highly of him made the pain lift enough so he could breathe.
Cheyenne shrugged one shoulder. “But with Bailey … you ran every time.” Her smile told him she wanted him to understand her motives, her intentions — and that they were only for his best. “The look in your eyes when you see her, it’s like you’ve convinced yourself she’s the only one, the only girl you could ever love.” She still spoke slowly, deliberately. As if she’d saved an entire day’s strength for this moment. “I guess … I just think you’re wrong. Otherwise you wouldn’t have run.”
It was so much to think about. Cody sniffed and steadied himself, grabbing onto the resolve he needed to not break down at the enormity of what she had just said, the possibility she had only just opened up to him. “You said … you said you wanted to talk about heaven?”
A giggle passed over her lips and the sound released air into the room again. “There’s not much to say there. I guess … I’m excited.” She breathed in slowly, a full cleansing breath as if even now she could almost see a glimpse of heaven’s gate. “I get really excited thinking about it. Being whole and w
ell … having an eternal purpose of some kind.” Her voice wavered just a little, and her eyes grew watery. “Seeing Art again. I’m not afraid.” She laughed like a kid looking forward to Christmas. “I can’t wait, Cody. When I go … I don’t want you to be sad.”
His tears were back. He couldn’t watch her waste away, couldn’t grasp the fact that in her dying days she was concerned about whom he would love, and he didn’t know how to think about her death without feeling pain. But here … his tears weren’t for her; they were for himself. She cared about him more than he had understood before today.
“Hey … you’re not supposed to be sad.” She still had her hand on his shoulder. “That was the whole point. I’m ready, Cody … I’m not afraid at all.”
He nodded, refusing to break down completely in her presence. “I don’t like it … thinking about you gone.”
“I won’t be gone. I’m just going first. We’ll both be there eventually.”
“Yeah.” Cody laughed because it was one way to keep from crying. “I’ll probably want about a hundred years in heaven to catch up with Art.”
“Hmmm.” She looked happier than she had all afternoon.
“Me too.” She yawned and withdrew her hand again. “I should probably sleep. But … I’ve prayed for you so much, Cody.” She met his eyes once more. “I couldn’t leave … without telling you what He’d put on my heart. That maybe … maybe it’s time to let go of Bailey. Time to acknowledge that she was never really more than an ideal, an image of the life you wanted to live.”
The truth — if there was truth to what she said — grated against his heart and still made him want to run from it. But he believed her, that this was something she had to tell him. It was that important. “Thank you. For making it a priority. For caring that much.”
“I had to.” She blinked back fresh tears, despite her smile. “I love you. I want the best for you.”
He stood and took her slowly in his arms, holding her frail body and willing strength into it. There were no words, nothing he could say to change where they were at. Whatever impact this conversation might have on him in the days and months to come didn’t matter as much as one obvious truth: In Cheyenne, God had given him a very rare gift. A gift he wouldn’t accept from Bailey Flanigan — whatever the reason.