A Thousand Tomorrows / Just Beyond the Clouds

  Finally Sid told them about a movie his dad had taken him to see, something with dark caves and missing animals and a king whose kingdom had turned against him. The plot was too difficult to follow, but somehow Sid managed a question-and-answer time at the end.

  They worked on table manners next, and before Elle had time to look at the clock, it was three and parents were arriving to pick up their students.

  Elle spotted Daisy and Carl Joseph near the window waiting for his mother. She went to them and patted her sister on the back. “Nice dance today.”

  “Thanks.” Daisy grinned. “Carl Joseph has good news.”

  “You do?” Elle looked at the young man. There was an ocean of kindness in his eyes. “What’s your good news, Carl Joseph?”

  “My brother.” He flashed a gap-toothed smile. “Brother’s coming home tomorrow.”

  “Oh.” Elle put her hand on Carl Joseph’s shoulder. He’d talked about his brother before. The guy was older than Carl Joseph, and he rode bulls. Or maybe he used to ride bulls. Elle wasn’t sure. Whatever he did, the way Carl Joseph talked about him he might as well have worn a cape and a big S on his chest. She smiled. “How wonderful.”

  Carl Joseph nodded. “It is.” His voice boomed. He pushed his glasses back into place. “It’s so wonderful!”

  “CJ… shhh.” Daisy patted his hand. “We can hear you.”

  “Right.” He covered his mouth with one hand and held up a single finger with the other. “Sorry.”

  Elle glanced at the circular drive out front. It was empty. She settled into a chair opposite Daisy and Carl Joseph. “Does your brother still ride bulls?”

  “No… not anymore.”

  “Did he get tired of it?” Elle could imagine a person might grow weary of being thrown from a bull.

  “No.” Carl Joseph’s eyes were suddenly sad. “He got hurt.”

  Daisy nodded. “Bad.”

  “Oh.” Elle felt a slice of concern for Carl Joseph’s brother. “Is he okay now?”

  Carl Joseph squinted and seemed to mull over his answer. “After he got hurt, he rode bulls for another season. But then he didn’t want to.” He raised one shoulder and cocked his head. “Brother’s still hurt; that’s what I think.”

  “What’s his name?” Elle spotted Carl Joseph’s mother’s car coming up the drive.

  “Cody Gunner.” Carl Joseph’s pride was as transparent as his smile. “World-famous bull rider Cody Gunner. My brother.”

  Elle smiled. She was always struck by her students’ imagination. Carl Joseph’s brother was probably an accountant or a sales rep at some firm in Denver. Maybe he rode a bull once in his life, but that didn’t make him a bull rider. But that didn’t matter, of course. All that counted was the way Carl Joseph saw him.

  “Your mom’s here, CJ.” Daisy pointed at the car. She stood and took Carl Joseph’s hand. “It’s your big day. Your brother’s coming home tomorrow.”

  Carl Joseph’s cheeks grew red and he giggled at Daisy. “Thank you, Daisy. For telling me that.”

  They walked off together, and at the door Daisy gave him a hug. They hadn’t crossed lines beyond that, and Elle was glad. Their relationship needed to progress slowly. What they shared today was enough for now. As the last few students left, she and Daisy straightened chairs and tables and closed up for the day.

  On the way home, Daisy was quieter than usual. Finally she took a big breath. “We should pray for Carl Joseph’s brother. For the world-famous bull rider.”

  Elle was heading down the two-lane highway that led to their new house. “Because he might still be hurt?”

  “Yeah, that.” She furrowed her brow. “It’s hard when you get hurt.”

  “Yes, it is.” Elle looked at her empty hand, the finger where her ring had been four years earlier. “Very hard.”

  Daisy pointed at her. “You pray, Elle. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Elle kept her eyes on the road. “Dear God, please be with Carl Joseph’s brother.”

  “Cody Gunner.” Daisy opened one eye and shot a look at Elle.

  “Right. Cody Gunner.”

  “World-famous bull rider.” Daisy closed her eyes again and patted Elle’s hand. “Say it all.”

  “Cody Gunner, world-famous bull rider.” Elle allowed the hint of a smile. “Please help him get well so he isn’t hurt anymore.”

  “In Jesus’ name.”

  “Amen.”

  For the rest of the ride Elle thought about the anniversary of a moment that never happened, and the picture of Daisy dancing in Carl Joseph’s arms. The world would look at her and Daisy and think that Elle was the gifted one, the blessed one. Elle, who had it all together, the beautiful, intelligent daughter for whom life should’ve come easily and abundantly. Daisy—she was the one to be pitied. Short and stout with a bad heart and weak vision. A castaway in a world of perfectionism, where the prize went to high achievers and people with talent, star athletes and beauty queens. Daisy was doomed from birth to live a life of painful emptiness, mere existence.

  Better to be Elle, that’s what the world would say.

  But the irony was this: Nothing could’ve been further from the truth.

  Chapter Two

  Cody Gunner sat next to professional bull riding’s best-known cowboy and tried to find the passion for another go-round. They were in Nampa, Idaho, the last day before a six-week break. Cody wasn’t signed up for the second half of the season. The way he felt now, he wasn’t sure he was coming back.

  “Folks, we’ve got a ton o’ fun in this first bull.” Sky Miller, four-time national champion, sat on Cody’s right. He was the primary announcer for tonight’s event. Cody would handle color. “No bull rider’s lasted eight on Jack Daniels since February in Jacksonville.”

  Cody looked to the side, to the place where the barrel racers would’ve been warming up back in the days when the best bull riders rode the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association circuit, back when he and Ali had toured together during that handful of amazing seasons.

  Good thing he’d switched over to the PBR, the way most of the bull riders had. Here there were no blonde horseback riders tearing around the barrels, making him think even for a fraction of a moment that somehow—against all odds—she was here, in the same arena with him. The way she had been all those seasons ago.

  “What do you say about Joe Glass, Cody? One of the tough guys, right?” The glance from Sky told him he’d missed his cue.

  “One of the toughest.” Cody grabbed a sheet and scanned it for the bull rider’s information. “Joe’s won three events this year and stayed on more than half the bulls he’s drawn. That’s one reason why he’s sitting pretty at Number Nine in the overall standings.”

  Cody stayed focused for the next nine riders. When the network went to a longer break, he stretched. “Sorry ’bout that.” He patted Sky on the shoulder. “Something to drink?”

  “Coke. Thanks.” Sky gave him a wary look. “You somewhere else tonight, Gunner?”

  “Maybe.” Cody took a few steps back.

  The legend held his eyes for a beat. He knew better than to ask if the reason had something to do with Ali. It was common knowledge in the rodeo world that Cody hadn’t gotten over her. There goes Cody Gunner, they’d say. Poor Cody. Still pining away over that wife of his. Yeah, he’d heard it all, the whispers and well-intentioned remarks about moving on and letting go. That was okay. Cody climbed down seven stairs to the dirt-covered arena floor. Let them think he was crazy for holding on this long.

  They hadn’t loved Ali. Otherwise they’d understand.

  It was eight years ago that they’d shared their last season on the circuit. Back when her cystic fibrosis had seemed like merely one more mountain they’d need to climb on the road to forever. Not like the eliminator it turned out to be. He steeled himself and stared at the ground as he walked back to the network food tent.

  He and Ali had that one last season, and then they married. Cody gave her everything he had to g
ive that year—his heart and soul, a lifetime of love, and one of the lungs from his own chest. “What happened?” people would ask when they heard about the lung. “You gave her a lung and it didn’t take?”

  Cody would only narrow his eyes and remember Ali, her honesty, the depth in her voice. “It worked.” That’s all he would say. It worked. Because it did. The doctors had told them the transplant would buy them only three years. And in the end that’s exactly what it did. Three years. About a thousand tomorrows.

  He would’ve given her his other lung, if he could’ve.

  “Gunner!” The voice was familiar.

  Cody looked up and into the eyes of Bo Wade, a cowboy Cody had competed against that last year—after Ali died, when Cody came out of retirement to do it all one more time, to win the championship for her, the one Ali never managed to win. Bo was in the top five back then, but he had hung it up a few years ago. Cody held out his hand and found a smile. “Bo Wade, watcha up to?”

  “Workin’ for the network.” He grinned. “Hoping to be in your spot someday.”

  “Yeah.” Cody grinned. “Same old story.”

  They talked for a minute or two about the season and the rise of the PBR. “Things are different now.”

  “No doubt.” Cody checked his watch. He had ten minutes to report back. “Some of those bulls are wicked mean.”

  “And huge. Makes you wonder what they’re puttin’ in the feed.”

  Cody was about to wind up the conversation when it happened.

  Bo’s expression changed. He looked down at his dusty boots and then back up again. “Hey, man. I’m sorry about Ali. I never got to tell you.”

  Cody’s breath caught in his throat, the way it always did at the mention of her. He’d tried a lot of different answers when people brought her into the conversation. He would sometimes shrug and say, “Things happen,” or he’d look up at the bluest piece of sky and say, “She’s still with us. I can feel her.” Once in a while he’d say, “She’s never really gone.” All those things were true, but for the past year he’d kept his answer simpler.

  “Thanks, Bo.” Cody squinted. “I miss her like crazy.”

  “I bet.” The corners of Bo’s mouth lifted. There was no awkwardness between them. The two had ridden the circuit together for five years. That made them family on a lot of levels. “I remember back before the two of you got together.” He shook his head. “Nothing could stop you like seeing Ali Daniels on a horse.” He paused. “We had no idea she was sick.”

  “No one did.” The conversation was too painful, the subject still too raw. Cody clenched his jaw. “Good seeing you.” He shook his friend’s hand again and nodded toward the arena. “Gotta get back.”

  “Okay.” Bo slapped Cody’s shoulder. “Take it easy, man. Maybe see you around the second half of the season. The network just made me permanent tech advisor.”

  Cody congratulated him, found a Coke and a bottle of water, and headed back to the booth. He kept his eyes straight ahead, but all he could see was Ali, her blonde ponytail flying behind her, racing around the barrels on Ace, her palomino, or standing in the tunnel after a ride, gasping for air while Cody brought her the inhaler. Ali in her compression vest back at the ranch her family owned. Ali beside him on a grassy bluff promising to love him until death had the final word.

  He pursed his lips and blew out. He had to hold on to the little details. The smell of her clothes after a ride, the mix of horse and perfume and lavender soap. The feel and exact color of her favorite faded jeans. The sensation of her breath on his face when they kissed.

  He had to hold on to his memories, because otherwise they would fade and there would be no getting them back. But he had to live in a world without Ali. That was the balancing act working in rodeo. Here—among the smell of horses and bulls and arena dust—he could think of nothing else.

  Cody reached the stairs and stopped. He still had three minutes. He slipped into a shadowy spot beneath the bleachers and leaned against the cool metal bars. He needed out. Otherwise the memories would drive him crazy. Besides, bull riding had taken enough of his time. A change in careers would be good for him. Maybe something closer to home.

  Concern shot a burst of adrenaline through him. His mother’s phone call this morning stayed with him, made him glad he was going home tomorrow. There was trouble with Carl Joseph. Big trouble. The kind they’d always feared for Cody’s younger brother.

  Yes, something closer to home would be better than this, than walking every day through a hallway of memories he couldn’t escape. He could go home and be a rancher, raise cattle or competitive bulls. Or maybe find a job in sales, commodities—that sort of thing. He pictured Carl Joseph, the way his brother had clung to him last time he was home. Buddy was never happier than when Cody was home. So maybe he would go back and open a sports camp for kids with disabilities.

  He heard the music blaring through the arena. Less than a minute before they went on again. He took the steps two at a time, dropped into the seat beside Sky Miller, and placed the Coke on the table between them. “Sorry, man. Got hung up.”

  Sky popped the top on the Coke and took a long drink. “Get in the game, okay?”

  “I will.”

  He was sharp in the second set, but his heart wasn’t in it. When he helped pack up the booth that night, he had the feeling that this was it, that he wouldn’t be back for a long time. Maybe forever. Sky must’ve known, too.

  When it was time to leave, Sky pulled him aside. “You’re good, Gunner. You know your stuff.”

  “Thanks.” Cody shifted, anxious to go.

  “You could ride this gig for a lotta years.” Sky paused. “Thing is, Gunner, you need to figure it out.”

  Cody didn’t want to ask. “What?”

  “Ali. Your past.” Sky rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled hard. “You take her with you everywhere you go. You’ll never be the best until you can walk in here”—he waved at the arena—“and see the stands, hear the bulls knocking around in the chutes, smell the sweat.” He hesitated. “And not see her, too.”

  “That’s the problem.” Cody put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m not trying to see her, man. She’s just there, that’s all. She’s there.”

  Sky studied him, and for a minute it looked like he might launch into a speech about moving on and putting the past to rest. Instead he grabbed his bag. “Maybe over the break, Gunner. Maybe you can figure it out then.”

  “Maybe.” Cody smiled, but he could feel the tears clouding his eyes. He looked down, and in that one simple movement, he gave it away.

  “You’re done, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not sure.” Cody backed up, putting distance between them. The dam in his heart was breaking. He didn’t want anyone around to see it happen. “Good working with you, Sky. I’ll be around.”

  With that he turned and swung his bag over his shoulder. The hotel was across the street, and he had a flight home in the morning. He was waiting at the light when a carload of girls screeched to a stop.

  “Hey, Cody Gunner—wanna ride?” The brunette behind the wheel wore red lipstick and had eyes that looked a little too bright.

  “Yeah!” A girl in a cowboy hat and a tight T-shirt leaned in from the passenger seat. “We know every hot spot in Nampa.”

  The light turned green and the walk sign appeared. Cody tipped his hat at the girls. “Gotta get my sleep tonight, ladies.” He started jogging across the crosswalk.

  “Come on, Cody,” the brunette called after him. He ignored them. Another thirty seconds and he was inside the doors of the hotel and headed for his room. Every stop on the tour, every year he’d been a part of rodeo, he’d had offers from girls like that. Before Ali, he agreed to an offer here and there. But never now. The idea made him sick to his stomach, like throwing dirt in the face of everything Ali stood for.

  Inside his room he washed his face, brushed his teeth, and crawled into bed. He pulled the framed photograph of Ali from the h
otel nightstand and stared at it. The way her smile reached the depth of her eyes, how even now she seemed to be watching him, looking at him.

  “Ali, girl”—he ran his thumb over the smooth glass—“I feel you everywhere tonight.” His voice was a raspy whisper. “Like you’re right here beside me.”

  But she wasn’t. No matter how long he looked at her picture or thought about her, she was gone. They’d had that last year on the circuit and then three more years, and then she left him. Her body, anyway. Her spirit was still with him—always with him. Whether he was in a rodeo arena or not.

  Some nights, like tonight, if he looked at her picture long enough, he could still hear her voice. They were riding double on Ace, taking the path out to the back of her parents’ property where the clouds and trees and mountains all came together in a piece of paradise.

  Cody… I want you to love again.

  “What?” He had been outraged, of course, horrified at her request. “I’ll never love anyone but you, Ali. Never.”

  But she insisted. I mean it, Cody. I want you to love again. When I’m gone, you can’t waste your life thinking about me. She leaned up and kissed him—and for the sweetest moment he was there again. Promise me, Cody. Promise me when I’m gone you’ll find love again.

  She pushed him until finally, against everything in him, and only because it was what she wanted to hear, he promised. He blinked and the distant conversation faded. He wiped the tears off the glass frame. “Ali… I can’t.” He brought the framed photo to his face and pressed the glass against his cheek. “I can’t do it.”

  Then he set the frame on the edge of the table so that her smile was facing him. He might forget the details but he wouldn’t forget this—the sparkle in her eyes or the way she could see right through him when no one else ever could.

  When she was alive he would’ve done anything for her. He forgave his father for her, and he gave up bull riding for her—to protect his lung, that piece of himself that belonged to her. The piece that bought them a few more years together.

  But there was one thing he could never, ever do. No matter where the next season in life took him, he couldn’t keep that one promise. The promise to love again. Because the idea was crazy. He hadn’t known how to love at all before he met Ali. With her, love became real for the first time. She defined it.