Longing

  Peace and strength coursed through Cody’s veins and he drew a determined breath. “We have ninety minutes before kickoff.” He paced a few steps and then stopped and turned to them again. “Ninety minutes before we play our last game of the season.” He hesitated. “A perfect season.” Cody watched a few of the guys sit up a little, watched the fight in their expressions catch fire. “We didn’t get here on our own. You know that, and I know that. God brought us to this point.” His voice grew louder. “And God will get us through this final game. Play by play … quarter by quarter. So that we go out there tonight and play Lyle football … so we leave it all out there on that field.”

  The air in the locker room began to feel lighter … a sense of electricity working its way through the heart of the team. Cody continued, “We did not let fear have a voice before tonight, and we will not let it speak now. We are Lyle.” Passion rang in his tone. “We are undefeated and we are His.”

  Slowly the guys began to nod. DeMetri punched the palm of his hands a few times. “Coach is right … we can do this. God’ll lead us same as before.”

  A murmuring of “yes” and “amen” came from the team and Cody felt a rich sense of accomplishment. God was meeting them in the moment right here when they needed it. He would meet them along the way too. Cody had no doubt. He told the guys how the next half hour would go. They would finish suiting up and then find a quiet place to stretch and pray. Then they would visualize playing their best game ever. The game of their lives.

  “Now listen … the stadium will be packed. And yes, we’re playing at Memorial Stadium. Media will be here — everywhere you look. It’s the sort of Friday night lights moment most guys only dream about. But in the end it’s just another football game, men. Another chance to show the world who you are. And whose you are.”

  With that, a few of the players hit their feet and urged the others into a spontaneous huddle. “You heard Coach!” one of them yelled.

  “Whose way?” DeMetri led the familiar chant. “His way!” The chorus of voices was strong and united, without a trace of the fear that had been evident just a few minutes ago.

  “Whose way?” “His way!”

  “Okay!” DeMetri patted the backs of the players on either side of him. “Let’s get ready. Let’s do this!”

  And with that the guys dispersed to follow Cody’s instructions. He watched them go, satisfied. His players would be fine. Now he had to meet up with Hans Tesselaar — the writer from Sports Illustrated. The reporter had followed the Buckaroos’ success and he planned to run a story on the team sometime next week. Cody left the locker room, and as he rounded the corner toward the field, he could already feel the energy. The stands were filling, and marching bands from both schools were in place and warming up.

  God, You brought us this far … let us play our best. Please, Lord.

  There was no immediate answer, but that was okay. Cody didn’t need answers or even a win, necessarily. As long as his players gave it everything they had. Besides, Coach Egbers would pray a similar prayer now. Whichever team won, God would get the glory.

  “Cody?” Hans came up and touched him on the shoulder. “Hey!” Cody turned.

  “This is something else.” Hans chuckled, and for a moment the two of them looked around, soaking in the atmosphere.

  Hans smiled and shook his head. “It’s gonna be a great one. I can feel it.” He held a notepad and he had a camera slung over his shoulder. “We’ll run the story regardless of the outcome. It’s too good to pass up.” He pulled an envelope from his bag. “By the way, this is the official request from a buddy of mine at ESPN. They want you in the New York studio for an interview.”

  New York.

  Cody felt his heart skip a beat as he took the envelope. Bailey Flanigan’s new hometown. “Did they mention when?”

  “It’s all in the request.” Hans grinned. “But I think the first week of January. During NFL playoffs. Oftentimes the network runs a feature looking back at the previous high school and college football season. It’ll make for a good story around that time.”

  “Right.” Cody nodded. New York City in January. He narrowed his eyes, squinting against the glare of the setting sun. “I’m honored. Tell your friend thanks. And tell him I’ll be in touch.”

  He talked to Hans for the next few minutes, filling him in on the team’s preparations leading up to the championship game and sharing the news about DeMetri’s decision to attend Liberty University and become a pastor.

  Hans shook his head. “Like a movie script … seriously.”

  Cody blinked and in the fraction of an instant when his eyes were closed he was suddenly not on the plush artificial turf of Memorial Stadium. He was back at Clear Creek High, suited up to play quarterback against Bloomington, and Bailey … Bailey was in the stands cheering him on. The moment passed and a chuckle worked its way from Cody’s heart. “Yeah, like a movie. Almost.” He scanned the stands. If the Flanigans were coming, they would be here soon. Jim Flanigan would never be late to this game.

  Instead he saw Tara and Cheyenne making their way up the home bleachers. They didn’t see him, and Cody didn’t have time to make a trek over to talk to them. He’d see them later, when the team took the field for warm-ups.

  Hans thanked him for his time and pointed to a spot near the end of the bench. “I’ve got a quick appointment with Lance Egbers.” He nodded at Cody. “Good luck tonight, Coach.”

  “Thank you.” Cody was about to head back to the locker room when he spotted them: the Flanigan family entering the stadium halfway up the structure. Again he was back at Clear Creek High, back when he could always sense her arrival at any game. He froze and watched them file in. Jim and Jenny, the boys trailing behind them. And beside Connor near the end of the line … yes, it was her.

  Bailey had come.

  Cody shaded his eyes, watching them make their way along the cement aisle, searching for seats in the Lyle section. Cody let his eyes settle on Bailey. The other Flanigans, the faces in the crowd, every sound … all of it faded. There was only Bailey, the way there hadn’t been for too long.

  Even from here he could see she was more beautiful than ever, her long layered brown hair and the graceful way she walked alongside Connor. She stopped, and he could tell she was searching the sidelines, looking for him. And just like that, it happened. She froze and their eyes found each other. The look on her face had a way of erasing the distance between them, even from twenty yards, way up in the bleachers.

  “Cody!” The voice was familiar, but it took Cody a few seconds to pull himself from Bailey’s gaze, to look away when all he wanted was to freeze time, run up the stadium stairs, and take her in his arms.

  “Cody … over here!” The voice was Tara’s. Cody blinked and turned toward the sound. And there she was with Cheyenne at the edge of the railing, only a few feet above the sidelines. Tara waved, a grin stretching across her face, her big sunglasses still in place. “Can you believe this?” She couldn’t keep the enthusiasm from her voice.

  But Cody could hardly focus on Tara. He was too busy noticing the direction of Cheyenne’s gaze. She wasn’t looking at him the way Tara was. She was looking at whatever had held Cody’s attention for the last few seconds. In the exact direction of Bailey Flanigan.

  Cody glanced that way once more, but Bailey was already seated, talking to Connor, and caught up in whatever conversation her family was sharing. There was no way to tell if Bailey had seen Cheyenne and Tara. But one thing was certain: Cheyenne had seen Bailey. He quickly headed toward the spot where Tara and Cheyenne still waited. “You’re here early!”

  “Of course.” Tara took the lead. She was dressed in Lyle blue, and she carried a cardboard sign painted with the words Lyle Buckaroos All the Way. She waved the sign in his direction. “Whooo-wooo! Biggest game ever!”

  Cody smiled, but his eyes found Cheyenne. Her expression told him everything he needed to know. She wasn’t angry or upset, not jealous or insecure. But h
e had no doubt she’d seen the exchange between Bailey and him, and now her soft smile held a knowing, a walls-up sort of understanding. As if she understood how Bailey might’ve captured his attention, and in some sad sort of way she expected it.

  Cody felt uncomfortable. Cheyenne deserved to be first place in his heart. The place he thought he’d reserved for her. “How’s the team?” Tara still seemed oblivious to the silent exchange happening between him and Cheyenne.

  “Good.” He shouted his answer, so she could hear him. Then he gritted his teeth. He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t make casual conversation. Not now. “Gotta get back to the guys.” He smiled, waved big at both of them, turned, and jogged back to the locker room without checking the stands again to see Bailey, to satisfy his curiosity about whether she was watching him again or not.

  He didn’t need to look. He already knew she would watch him tonight, same as he would be keenly aware of her position in the stands, her presence behind him. He would be focused on the game, for sure. But he felt certain about how the next few hours would play out. No matter what else consumed his heart and mind, one thing was certain. And it continued to trouble him deeply as he rounded up the guys and brought them out onto the field for warm-ups.

  Regardless of Cheyenne’s presence, as long as Bailey was here, a part of him would be only hers.

  Always hers.

  Three

  BRANDON HADN’T HEARD FROM BAILEY ALL DAY, BUT THEN he’d been busy—his phone off most of the afternoon. His meetings that day had blended together, one into the other. A handful of producers and directors all linked to the biggest studio in the country, meeting around an impressive table in a boardroom where some of the biggest movie deals in history had gone down.

  His manager and his agent sat on either side of him.

  Since ten that morning a dozen projects had been laid out, any one of which would advance his career in the direction everyone saw him headed — a move from teen heartthrob to serious actor. Already Brandon had agreed to a couple pictures, films that would be shot in Los Angeles and wouldn’t take more than eight weeks a piece. But the movie he was looking for still hadn’t crossed the table: “What about a love story?”

  The team surrounding him nodded thoughtfully, and his agent turned slightly to face him. “There’s a love story element in just about every one of these pictures.”

  “I know.” Brandon pictured Bailey. “I mean a love story. Something people will remember forever.”

  “This is about your Unlocked co-star, right?” His agent sounded slightly irritated.

  “Her name’s Bailey.” Brandon sat back in his chair, calm in the face of whatever resistance came from the people around him. “And, yes, I want to do another picture with her. I think the fans want that too.”

  “Listen, Brandon …” His manager leaned onto his forearms and folded his hands. “We all like Bailey Flanigan. But she’s a little … I don’t know, a little wholesome, to be honest. Some of these projects,” he waved his thumb toward the pile of scripts, “they demand an actress with a little more of an edge.”

  “An edge?” Brandon shifted in his seat. “Maybe I don’t want edgy.”

  “That’s why we’re having this meeting.” One of the studio execs cleared his throat. “We’re trying to make decisions that are best for your career, Brandon.”

  “Not what’s best for your relationship with Bailey.” His agent muttered.

  “Listen. We have a few girls coming in to meet with us …” His manager swapped looks with the producers at the end of the table. “Just to see your thoughts … initial chemistry … that sort of thing.”

  “Why isn’t Bailey one of them?”

  “We already know Bailey …” His agent used that irritated tone, the one that bordered on patronizing. “We’re looking for fresh talent, someone a little racier.”

  Anger blew hot against Brandon’s understanding. He nodded slowly and then pushed his chair back from the table. “I’m taking five. We can talk after the break.”

  Out in the hall he turned a corner and found a quiet stairwell where he could sit and think. Too wholesome? Wasn’t that what people wanted these days? Films that gave people a message of hope and faith? A renewed purpose in life? Then how come the people around him thought he should do edgier projects with edgier actresses? He reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pulled out his cell phone, and found Bailey in his favorites. A single tap and her phone began to ring.

  Answer, Bailey … please, answer.

  “Hello?” She was there … but the noise in the background was so great, her voice was barely audible.

  “Bailey?” He checked the time on his phone. Nearly four o’clock. Almost kickoff in Bloomington, Indiana, where Bailey was at the game. He covered one ear, and tried to make himself heard above the commotion. “Hey, can you hear me?”

  The noise grew louder. “Brandon?” She shouted his name, but clearly she couldn’t hear him. She was trying to say something about the game when the call failed. Something that he knew happened often in this part of the building.

  Brandon thought about trying again, but why? The noise was too much and the cell reception too sketchy. They’d have to talk later, when the game was over. He hung his head for a moment.

  What do You want me to do, God? Why can’t Bailey be in one of my films? I want to be with her … not some other actress.

  The answer came readily to his heart:

  I know the plans I have for you, my son. Plans to give you a hope and a future …

  The verse was from Jeremiah 29:11, one of Bailey’s favorites. He exhaled slowly. God would lead him. As long as he didn’t compromise his faith by taking the wrong role; if this wasn’t the time for Bailey and him to star in a picture together, then maybe later. He stood and moved easily back down the stairs and into the hallway.

  All he wanted was to finish the meeting and the dinner with his manager and agent after that and get home before eight o’clock. If there was time he wanted to Skype with Bailey. So he could look in her eyes and be absolutely sure that no matter how the evening at her old boyfriend’s game had gone, everything was still okay between them.

  The way he was sure it would be.

  He couldn’t see a day ahead without her. She had worked her way into the fiber of his being, and he would fight to hold onto her, to never let her go. Forever wouldn’t be long enough to love her, Brandon was convinced. The idea of that stayed with him as he finished his meetings and headed to dinner with his team. Lately when it came to Bailey he didn’t wonder so much about the answers, but about the question, no matter how far off.

  One question.

  THE FIRST TWO QUARTERS OF THE CHAMPIONSHIP GAME flew by, and after a blur of the most intense football they’d played all year, Lyle ran off the field at halftime down twelve points, 18 – 6. Cody trailed his players, not sure what had happened, what had gone wrong.

  Yes, Coach Egbers’ Whitinsville Christian team was strong at every position. But his guys seemed like they were going through the motions — as if they were happy just to be here. Nothing about their offense even remotely reminded Cody of the team he’d coached all year. Whether it was the roar of the enormous crowd or the reality of playing in Memorial Stadium, Cody wasn’t sure. But if something didn’t change at halftime, the outcome was easy to predict.

  Not only that, but the physicality of their opponent had taken its toll. Larry Sanders limped on a sprained ankle, and Josh Corothers was out with a knee injury. Cody knew they could do this; they could rally their efforts and talents and come out with a winning second half. But he wasn’t sure whether his guys actually believed that.

  Around them the crowd was on its feet cheering as they ran off the field, and even before the noise died down, as soon as they rounded the corner into the locker room, DeMetri jumped onto the nearest bench and glared at his teammates. “No!” he shouted at them. “No, we did not come this far to hang our heads and let that team get the best of us!” He
wasn’t angry, just intense. Blazing from a fire that burned deep within him. “Come on, guys, get in here. Get close.”

  Cody watched his players respond. They were sweaty and exhausted, still breathless from the action in the first half. But the fire in DeMetri was contagious. Cody could see it in their faces.

  “Come on … we’re gonna cry out to Jesus, y’all. You understand? Cry out to Him … because I will not go out my last game a loser. I wanna hold my head high and know I gave everything … everything for this team and for Coach and for God who brought us together.”

  In all his days as a player and coach, past and future, Cody knew he would always remember this moment, the passionate confidence of a player who only six months ago had been sleeping in the school weight room, without a home or a family, without a hope. The changes God had brought about in DeMetri were proof of His existence all by themselves.

  “All right.” DeMetri’s voice still filled the locker room, a fierce cry louder than the packed stadium on the other side of the brick wall. “Let’s pray. Because that’s when we’re strongest … when we’re laid bare before Him, no hope but the hope we have in Him.”

  The others nodded, pressing in closer, closing their eyes and hanging their heads. A few of them raised their hands, the way they might do during a church service. Cody felt a chill run down his arms.

  God, they’re getting it … they know how badly they need You.

  He held his breath, watching … waiting.

  Meet us here, Father … please meet us.

  “Lord, we are nothing without You. All season we’ve relied on You. Every touchdown, every tackle, every play by every man here. You’ve brought us together and given us a strength beyond ourselves.” DeMetri’s voice held a cry, and sure enough two trails of tears made their way down his cheeks. “We haven’t given everything out there, God … we’ve been playing in our own strength … like maybe we think we’re all that.” He sniffed and kept his words steady, strong. “But we’re nothing without You, God. Go with us onto that field in the second half. Every man here including myself … Lord, we cry out to You. Not that we would win the game, but that we’d play beyond what we’ve played so far. Because after this, we’re done. This Lyle team will only be a memory. That’s the point, God … that we would be remembered not for what we did, but for what You did through us.” He was breathless, nearly overcome. “In Jesus’ name, amen.”