Eleven
CHEYENNE WAS MAKING TREMENDOUS STRIDES, SO MUCH SO that through the first month of summer Cody was consumed with gratitude. Her cast was off her leg now, and tonight — after a full five days of tough football practices, Cody was doing something he’d wanted to do ever since Cheyenne was released from the hospital.
He was taking her out on a date.
She still had her walker, so he didn’t want to take her anywhere that might cause an issue with her mobility. He settled on a movie — a romantic comedy the media was talking about. It had been out for several weeks, so when they arrived at the theater just outside Indianapolis, they didn’t have to fight a crowd.
They walked slowly toward the theater. It was the last Friday in June and the night was comfortably warm. Still too early for the humidity to come. As they finally reached the front doors she gave him an apologetic look. “You’re patient.”
“Don’t be silly.” He slipped his arm around her shoulder. “You’re like a marathon runner the way you’ve gotten through rehab. No one thought you’d be walking yet.”
She paused, her eyes shining with the reflection of the light from the marquis. “You did.”
“True.” He sensed that she was feeling more emotional than usual, but the idea scared him a little. He worked to keep things light between them. “But that was only so I could get you out to a movie. The guys on the team wouldn’t see this movie if you paid them.”
Laughter filled the slight spaces between them as Cody bought the tickets and helped her inside. They sat in the front row of the upper section in two handicapped-accessible seats. “I take longer, but I get there …”
Cody remembered when the same could be said about him, after his time in Iraq. His leg had required all of this rehab and more. Again it was another reason he felt close to her, because they shared the hardship of the climb, the overwhelming determination to come back from something that had nearly killed them. He stayed at her side until she was seated, then he bought popcorn and water bottles and took his place beside her.
The movie was a chick flick, for sure, but it held his attention. More than the film he enjoyed being with her. This was the first time their evening together had been less about her progress, her needs, her schedule of workouts — and more about the two of them having fun together. Cody let his arm brush against hers. She smelled nice — the same way she always smelled. Cinnamon and vanilla, and something else … the freshness of her shampoo, maybe.
Whatever the combination, it filled his senses and reminded him of the question he didn’t always stop to ask himself. Where was the line between friendship and something more? And how close were they to stepping over it? The last scene of the movie showed the main characters — two best friends — realizing for the first time that they’d been fooling themselves. They were not in love with the other people they’d been seeing. Not at all. And at the last moment — when they might’ve gone off with the wrong people, they admitted their feelings for each other and fell into each other’s arms.
Another happily ever after.
Cody tried not to think of Bailey as the movie ended, but there was no way around it. She’d been his friend too long to not make the comparison for a few seconds. Cheyenne dabbed at happy tears as the credits rolled. “Best movie I’ve seen in a long time.”
Cody dismissed his guilt along with thoughts of Bailey. “It was good.”
“That’s the crazy thing about you, Cody.” She studied him, in no hurry to leave the theater. “Big, tough football coach … Army hero … rock of faith kind of guy.” She wrinkled her nose and giggled. “But you’ll sit through a movie like this.”
He chuckled. “You could sort of predict the ending.”
“Yeah,” she grinned at him. “But still …”
The mood between them stayed light as they made their way back to his pickup and headed for the coffee shop across from the theater. Cody had looked forward to this part of their date almost more than the movie — the chance to talk to her outside of the crisis of her accident, and the constant need to help with her rehabilitation. He ordered straight coffee for himself and a cappuccino for her, and they took a quiet corner booth. Cody parked her walker off to the side, and once they were settled she took a deep breath. “Wow … I can’t believe we’re here. Out like this.”
“It’s a celebration! You got your cast off — one step closer to walking on your own.”
“A few more weeks.” Her personal schedule was more aggressive than the one the doctor gave her, but then that had been true since she regained consciousness after her accident. She rested her elbows on the table and folded her hands, watching him, her expression thoughtful. “I have a question.”
“Ask it.” He leaned back. “Whatever you want to know.”
“Why, Cody?” A soft smile lifted her lips. “Why are you doing this?”
He expected she might ask questions about his background or childhood, his time in Iraq, maybe. But this one made him hesitate for a few seconds. “I care about you … I told you. I won’t leave.”
“But I’m almost better.” She nodded to his place across from her. “And you’re still here.” Her smile wasn’t flirty or frantic or anything but curious. “I just wonder why?”
“Well …” Cody spoke the words as they hit his heart. “I wake up every morning wondering how you are, whether you’re in pain, or if your headaches are still there after a full night’s sleep.” His answer came slowly, as if he were explaining the situation to himself as much as to her. He looked at her more intently. “And at practice, I catch myself looking at the sidelines wondering when you’ll be well enough to come out on your own … like you used to.”
“So …” Her honest eyes touched his soul, her heart as transparent as the wind. “This isn’t you feeling sorry for me?” She held no self-pity in her voice, no weakness. If anything her confidence was incredibly attractive. She might as well have told him that though she cared, she didn’t want him to do her any favors. She would be fine either way. “I mean … I don’t want pity. I just want to know.”
“Pity?” His laugh was more a sound of disbelief. “Absolutely not.” He thought about reaching across the table and taking her hands, but he changed his mind. Not now, when even he wasn’t sure he could explain his actions. He hoped his smile would soothe her doubts. “It’s my choice. I like being with you, Chey. You’ve become very special to me. You have to see that.”
Cody had spoken exactly what was on his heart, but he wondered if she was replaying his words the way he was. The fact that he liked being with her, or that she was special to him … or how he thought about her. All very true, very nice sentiments … but clearly he wasn’t admitting to anything more than a deep friendship.
She didn’t ask, and he was glad. It was enough that she was convinced about his motives, that he wasn’t here because he felt sorry for her. Cody studied her and realized he wanted to know more about her past, more about what had shaped her into the woman she was today. “Tell me more, Chey, … about you, your life.”
She sighed and took a long sip of her coffee. “It’s not a happy story.”
Cody gave her a crooked smile. “That’s true for a lot of us.”
A depth filled her face and she stared out the coffee shop window for a long time. “My mom left when I was little … four years old. I think you know that part.”
“I do.”
Her eyes found his again, and her smile was tinged with a sorrow that had been there for a long time, a sorrow she was clearly comfortable with. “We didn’t hear from her for a long time. But just before I met Art I got word from a friend of my grandmother’s … my mom’s body was found in a dumpy apartment in downtown Chicago. By then my daddy was already in prison. Life sentence for armed robbery. His third offense.” She let her eyes linger on Cody’s.
He wondered if she knew how strongly he could relate. He would tell her later. For now he didn’t want to interrupt her story.
“In the end it always came down to the drugs. For both of them.” She shrugged one slim shoulder. “I guess I always hoped it was the drugs … and not me. A mama doesn’t leave her little girl unless something’s wrong with her mind.”
“Yes.” Cody felt the familiar heartache well up inside him. “You’re right about that.”
She nodded. “And a daddy doesn’t grab an automatic rifle and hit up a liquor store if something isn’t screaming inside him.” Peace radiated from her. “I always took it as a blessing. That they didn’t choose the single life … the criminal life over loving me. Their addictions just gave them no other way out.”
The admission reached deep into Cody’s soul, touching him to the core. “Wow.” He sat back, amazed. As she told her story he realized he hadn’t shared much of his either. “I haven’t told you about my mom.”
“No.” Cheyenne looked puzzled, like she was surprised she hadn’t thought about the question before. “I guess I assumed she lives in Indianapolis.”
“She does.” Cody didn’t break eye contact with her. “In the women’s prison.” He paused. “Serving time for dealing drugs.”
Surprise quickly turned to sympathy and without hesitating she reached across the table and slowly took his hands. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
She looked at him for a long time, letting her eyes do the talking. “What about your dad?”
“He left when I was little. One or two … my mom can’t remember.” He smiled sadly. “We haven’t heard from him since.”
Cheyenne tightened the hold she had on his hands. There was nothing awkward about the moment. They were simply two broken kids who had grown up without families — without a mom doting over their math homework, or a daddy tucking them in at night. Two hurting people who hadn’t known the magical warmth of Sunday dinners or the smell of turkey cooking in the oven on Thanksgiving Day.
It was why Cody never thought he was good enough for Bailey. His past was so different from hers, so broken in comparison. She deserved someone who could help her carry on the traditions of family and faith she’d been raised with. Cody … well, he wasn’t sure how to do any of it. All of life — every stage from high school till today and long into the future would be him trying to invent what he’d missed out on.
Same as it must’ve been for Cheyenne.
She took another sip of her drink, her eyes distant as if she might be lost in a montage of painful memories. Finally she breathed in slowly, as if she were clearing her mind at the same time. “I decided I needed an addiction too.” The pain lifted some. “When I was sixteen I found a relationship with Jesus. I lived with my grandma by then. She was too sick to help much, but I had friends. They took me to Young Life meetings and to church on Sunday.” Her smile grew, and the light shone in her eyes again. “I realized I could have as much Jesus as I wanted. He was the only addiction that would make life better. I met Art the year after that — at Bible study.”
“Jesus is faithful.” Cody nodded slowly. “I learned that living at the Flanigans.”
A curious look danced in her expression. “The Flanigans?”
For as much time as he’d spent with Cheyenne, he still hadn’t told her about Bailey and her family. Before the accident, he and Cheyenne had just been getting to know each other. And since then they’d been consumed with her rehabilitation. He sucked in a quick breath and stared at his coffee for a long moment. Where could he begin? “I didn’t find Jesus as quickly as you did.” He hated this part of his story, … but there was no way around it. “I began drinking in middle school. My mom actually taught me how to make mixed drinks.”
“See?” Cheyenne still had her hands intertwined with his. And now she ran her thumbs over his. “Alcohol’s a drug. Only drugs would make a mama do that.”
It was true. Cody nodded, and drew his hands gently from her. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked for a way to tell the story quickly. “By the time I was a junior in high school I was an alcoholic. Binges … blackouts … the whole thing.” He kept his eyes down at the table, somewhere near his paper cup. Moments like this he was back there again, standing on the football field with Jim Flanigan confronting him. “I smelled like alcohol at practice, and my coach, Jim Flanigan … he realized my situation.” He uttered a regretful laugh. “By then my mom was back in prison, and I lived alone. Coach Flanigan … he invited me to live with his family. I lived with them until I left for Iraq.” He smiled, not wanting to talk about the Flanigans now. “At one point I nearly died from drinking.” “While you lived with them?”
“Yes. I had to be hospitalized.” His tone held the shame he still carried over that time. “After that they helped me see what you just said. We all have a hole in our hearts. We can try to fill it with a lot of things … but in the end only Jesus fits.”
“Yes.”
“So that’s my story.” He hoped his smile made her see there was nothing more to the story. But in every situation, Cody had found Cheyenne to be perceptive, and this was no exception.
She narrowed her eyes slightly. “There’s more to the story.” It wasn’t a question. Cheyenne simply knew. “Do they … do the Flanigans have a daughter?”
It was like she could read his heart, like everything he’d done or felt was so clear to her she didn’t need to ask. She already knew. He hesitated, but then he nodded just barely, only enough so that she would know she was right. “Yes … they do.”
“So that’s it …” She eased her hands from the table back to her lap. Her careful smile told him she wasn’t hurt by his revelation. Rather it was like the pieces finally fit. “I knew someone had a hold on your heart, Cody Coleman. I wondered when you might trust me enough to tell me.”
He wasn’t sure what to say. Not once had he intended for this date to involve a discussion about his past. But now that’s exactly where they were headed, and Cody wanted to divert the conversation — any way he could. Tonight was about Cheyenne, and the celebration of her life. Not about Bailey and him.
But she was still searching his eyes, the understanding still dawning within her. “What’s her name?”
He sighed, and leaned against the padded side of the booth. “Bailey. Bailey Flanigan.”
“You still care about her.” Again it wasn’t a question. But her tone politely asked for more details.
“Yes. Always.” Cody understood why this mattered. If he wasn’t here out of sympathy, and if he enjoyed being with her … then what about his past might stop her from letting herself have feelings for him? She had a right to know. “Things changed between us. At the end of last year.” He explained how he and Bailey had allowed their friendship to turn into a dating relationship, but only for a short while. “My mom went back to prison, and Bailey was busy making a movie with Brandon Paul.”
Cheyenne’s mouth opened, and she sucked in a quiet breath. “That’s where I’ve heard her name. She’s in Unlocked. I’ve seen the trailer a hundred times on TV.”
“Yes.” Cody couldn’t help but feel proud of her. “That’s her. The world doesn’t know it, but she and Brandon are dating now.” He faced forward again and rested his forearms on the table. “It’s been over between us for many months.”
“Mmhmm.” She nodded, but her eyes told him she wasn’t quite convinced … that the situation with Bailey Flanigan was a red flag on the panel of her heart, and after tonight she would have a reason to take things slowly.
That was fine with Cody. He didn’t want to move quickly, anyway. Cheyenne was still building up her strength. She didn’t need a serious relationship to complicate her life right now. “Well … we know each other a lot better now.” He laughed, and though it sounded a little nervous it broke the heaviness between them.
By the time they walked back out to the truck they were both laughing about something from the movie. He put his arm around her shoulders again, and as he folded up her walker and helped her into his passenger seat he recognized the obvious: He felt more than friendship for her. “Hey … I have an idea.” He turned the key in the ignition. “How about we take a drive to Lyle? The uniforms were delivered, and Ms. Baker asked me to count them in.” He liked the idea … the two of them alone in the quiet emptiness of the high school. More time to talk. “Are you too tired?”
“Not at all.” She laughed. “Just don’t ask me to try anything on. I’d disappear in a football uniform.”
His laughter mixed with hers. “Don’t worry … just the helmets and face masks. That’s the only part you’ll have to try on.”
On the drive out, they listened to Tim McGraw and Tyrone Wells and talked about her nursing program. The teachers were going to work with her, so she could make up most of last semester’s units online over the next few months. Once they reached the school, he let them in with his keys. No one was there, but still they talked in whispers as they walked the short distance from the back door of the athletic complex to the equipment room. Cody found a chair for her and he handed her a clipboard. “I’ll count, and you write down the numbers.” He grinned at her. “Sound good?”
“Better than trying on helmets.” She grimaced just a bit as she situated herself.
“You’re hurting.” He would’ve done anything to make her feel better. “Want a different chair?”
“No.” Her expression eased. “It’s not as bad as it used to be.”
Cody started with the jerseys. He was halfway through the count when he heard footsteps in the hallway outside. He stopped and saw that Cheyenne heard the sound too.
At nearly eleven on a Friday night the janitor couldn’t be here. He held his finger to his lip, urging her to be quiet. Was it kids maybe? Someone about to vandalize the school? He moved quietly to the door, and as he opened it he heard the unmistakable sound of someone running down the other hallway, the one that led to the gym.
The flashes came at him with lightning speed, like a series of rapid-fire gunshots. Bright bursts of images … him and Art running for cover across a pock-holed desert floor. “Run!” someone screamed. “Get low!” Cody blinked, fighting the pictures in his head, resisting the urge to obey the long ago commands. Another image and another. Flashes snapping like broken tree limbs in the forest of his complicated mind.
And beside him — right beside him — one of his buddies was hit in the face. His whole face gone in an instant as he crumpled to the ground. Dust and blood and gunfire. More gunfire. “Get down.”
“What?” Cheyenne gave him the strangest look, her voice quiet and panicked. She glanced toward the sound of the running feet and back at him. “Get down?”
“No.” Cody’s voice was an intense whisper, a command to himself. “Not that. Sorry.” Help me, God … Cheyenne needs me. Someone’s here … I have to think clearly. Please, Father … please …
In the time it took him to breathe out, the images were gone. Sweat gathered across his forehead and the back of his neck and he shook like he hadn’t in weeks. Cheyenne slid to the edge of her seat, clearly concerned. “Cody … what is it? Flashbacks?”
He nodded, hating himself for this weakness. Iraq was behind him. He had no reason to get lost in yesterday at the simple sound of running feet. He wiped his forehead and sucked back a few quick breaths. He wasn’t armed … had no way to protect himself. But if he had to fight someone he wasn’t worried. Cody could handle the situation. He was trained in hand-to-hand combat, and more than once at war he’d had to prove himself. He was one of his division’s best fighters. “Stay here,” he whispered. “I’ll call you if I get in trouble.”
The sound of the footsteps faded, getting farther away. He set off down the hallway running, and at the end of the hall he turned right. Ahead of him in the distance he could see the shadowy figure of someone trying to leave the building. A guy … tall … dressed in dark clothes. Whoever it was, he didn’t have legal access to the building. And the fact that he was trying to escape told Cody he’d probably done something wrong.
Speed wasn’t a problem for Cody — even since his injury. He had competed in marathons and triathlons since coming home from Iraq, and he still did speed training. Times like this he was grateful. He intensified his run, pushing through the school doors and across the back courtyard between the administration building and the athletic complex. “Hey … stop!”
He ran faster … holding the flashbacks at bay … focusing on the figure in front of him. Faster and faster but just before he might’ve made a dive at the trespasser, the guy turned around, gasping for breath, his eyes wide, terrified.
Cody stopped short, his breathing hard and fast. “DeMetri?”
“Coach, …” DeMetri Smith sank down in a crouched position, too shaky to stand. “You scared me to death.”
“Yeah.” Cody doubled at the waist and exhaled hard a few times. “Me too.” He straightened and looked hard at the kid. “Why are you here?” Cody felt his heartbeat finding normal again. “You should be at home in bed … we have practice tomorrow.”
DeMetri rose to his feet. “I … I don’t have anywhere to stay.” The kid didn’t want to cry, that much was evident. He clenched his jaw, fighting his emotion. “My mom got arrested … they evicted me.”
Cody wanted to drop to the ground and cry right beside his player. Another kid? Another mother like his and Cheyenne’s? How many other teenagers tonight weren’t sure where to sleep? How many parents were in prison while their high school sons or daughters tried to dodge the embarrassment and figure out a way on their own? He took a few slow steps to DeMetri. “Smitty, …” He put his hand on the player’s shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
DeMetri was still breathing hard. With Cody’s understanding, he lost the battle with his tears. “It’s okay. The school’s fine.”
Dawning hit Cody again. “You’ve been staying here … sleeping here?”
“Yeah,” he stuck his chin out, like the situation was fine, as if he didn’t want any sympathy from Cody or anyone else. “It’s okay. I have some stuff in a closet.”
“Where?” His heart broke for his player. “Where do you stay?”
“The wrestling room.” He blinked, and for a few seconds he looked more like a kid than the adult he was being forced to become. “It’s fine, Coach. Really.”
“It’s not fine.” He felt a gust of anger toward DeMetri’s mom, and all those who didn’t fight harder to be parents. “You’re coming home with me.”
DeMetri blinked. “With you, Coach?”
“Yes.” Cody’s roommate was gone this weekend. Besides, they had an office, a third bedroom that neither of them really used. He could work out the details later. DeMetri wasn’t going to spend another night living in the Lyle wrestling room. His tone softened. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”
He finished counting the uniforms, and he and Cheyenne and DeMetri drove home. They dropped Chey off first, and he got out of his pickup only long enough to help her up the stairs and inside. From there she assured him she had it, and even before he could tell her goodbye, Tara appeared in her bathrobe. “You two okay out here?”
“Yes.” Cheyenne gave Cody a knowing smile. He hadn’t said much since he’d brought DeMetri back with him to the equipment room. He didn’t need to. Everything that might be said on the subject had already been said over coffee earlier that night. If anyone would understand Cody taking DeMetri home with him tonight, she would. It was one more thing they would share, one more bond between them. Chey looked at Tara. “We were just saying goodnight.”
“Well, then.” Tara waved her hand in the air and spun back toward her bedroom. “Don’t let me get in the way!”
Cody and Cheyenne laughed quietly, and he appreciated the understanding in her eyes. He hugged her, and let his face linger near hers. “I had fun tonight.”
“Me too.”
“Goodnight, Chey.” He hugged her once more, gingerly because he didn’t want to hurt her. Not now or ever.
“Goodnight.” She looked back at the truck. “Go take care of that boy.”
“I will.”
Cody waved goodbye once more. Then he headed out to his truck, to a high school boy whose skin color might be different, but who in this moment looked a whole lot like himself at that age. Frightened and determined, trying to find a way through life on his own. And as he climbed in the truck, he committed to God to do whatever it took to help DeMetri, to be there for the young man.
The way Jim Flanigan had been there for him.