Six
CODY WALKED THROUGH THE LAST SET OF THE SECURITY DOORS at the Indiana Women’s Prison and spotted his mother at a table by herself. For a moment he hesitated, taking in the sight of her. She was thinner than before, her face more lined — the consequences of the hard life she’d chosen the first time she dabbled in drugs as a teenager. He walked to her, and she spotted him. A smile found its way to her face, and her eyes softened.
She was sober for now, sweet and kind, the mother he’d always wanted. The one she could only bring herself to be when she was behind bars. Cody pulled out the chair opposite her and took her hands in his. “Hi.”
“Hi.” Her hands were cold, her voice shaky. “Thanks, Cody … for coming. Every week I … I wonder.”
“You don’t have to wonder.” Cody wouldn’t stop coming. This was why he’d moved from Bloomington to Indianapolis, after all. “I’ll be here.” He smiled, remembering to be compassionate. “I’ll always be here.”
She smiled, and tears welled in her eyes. “I … I don’t deserve you.”
Cody felt the sting in his own eyes, and he blinked. He wouldn’t spend the next hour caught in a weepy conversation. If this was the single conversation he’d have with his mother for the week, he wanted it to be at least somewhat normal. “Hey … so I love the job at Lyle.”
His mom’s shoulders straightened some. Pride filled her expression and eased the lines on her forehead. “I always thought you’d make a great teacher.”
“It’s weird.” He released the hold he had on her hands and rocked back in his chair. “The kids are so young. I mean, it feels like a lifetime ago that I was in high school. But still they relate to me.”
“Of course they do.” She beamed at him. “Look at you … so strong and handsome. They probably thought you were a student when you first stepped on campus.”
Cody grinned and stared out the window for a few seconds. His mom was right. His first week that’s exactly what had happened. On the morning of his third day a girl walked up to him in the hallway and asked if he wanted to go to the Tolo dance with her. “It’s girls ask guys.” She batted her eyes at him. “And since you’re new …”
“Sorry.” He took a step back. Flattering as it was to be thought he was still in high school, he wanted to make the chasm between him and the girl students as wide as the Grand Canyon. “I’m Mr. Coleman. The new PE teacher.”
The girl’s face turned redder than Christmas. Her mouth hung open, as if she might say something but no words would come. Then she turned and ran off to catch up with her friends who were laughing ten yards away. Cody chuckled again remembering the scene. “You’re right. They definitely thought I was one of them.”
“That’s why they’ll look up to you. You’re their age.” His mom folded her hands in front of her. “How about the coaching?”
“It’s spring league — just passing drills three days a week after school.” He paused. “There’s this one kid, DeMetri Smith. People call him Smitty.” Cody liked this, talking to his mom about life, as if they were any other mother and son, and this were a normal meeting — and not an hour-long visit at a state prison. “Anyway, he comes from a broken home, but he’s a Christian. Spends a lot of time praying.”
“Hmmm.” Sadness crept into her tone. “Like you … once you found the Flanigans.”
Cody hesitated. “I guess.” He’d thought about the similarities. It was partly why he wanted to help the kid. In DeMetri, he could see something he saw when he looked in the mirror. The sheer determination to find a path different than the one he’d been raised with. Cody had worked at Lyle High for four weeks. Long enough to understand how things ran — the small town ways and the big-hearted people. But this was the first time he’d shared details with his mom. Again, he was struck by how good it felt, how normal. Usually this hour was about her. Her Bible study. Her remorse.
Her regrets.
“Speaking of the Flanigans,” his mom brought nervous fingers to her cheeks, and finding no comfortable position she lowered her hand back to the table. “Have you … have you talked to Bailey?”
“Mom.” Cody kept his tone in check, but he’d been over this with her before. “We don’t talk about her. I told you that.”
“I wondered, that’s all. She … she was important to you. For a very long time.”
“We’ve moved on.” Every word, every syllable scraped like a knife against his heart. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I guess,” she looked down at her hands, her fingers still restless. For a long while she stayed like that, but then her eyes lifted to his. “I sort of hoped you’d find your way back to her. Have a new start.”
Cody wondered how much heartache a person could take. “You know what, Mom?” For a brief moment, his emotions raced ahead of him. “Why didn’t you think about that before you hooked up with a drug dealer?” He hesitated. “Right? I mean, did you think about how it might affect me to have some … some psycho drug king making death threats against the girl I love?”
He was breathing hard, his voice louder than he intended. A quick glance around the room told him that he’d caught the attention of other people. He rested his forearms on the table between them and hung his head. Treating her this way would get them nowhere. He looked up. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice.”
“It’s okay.” Tears welled in his mother’s eyes. “You’re right. It’s my fault. You and Bailey … I caused all of this.”
“Not all of it.” He sighed. “But please, Mom. Don’t ask me about her. What happened is in the past. It’s over.” This time he kept the anger from his voice, but he could do nothing about the defeat. It crept in and spoke louder than his words. The rest of their visit was tainted by the moment, and Cody couldn’t find his way back to the lightheartedness of earlier in the hour.
When his time was up, he held his mother’s frail hands and prayed with her, asking God to continue to work in her life and to surround her with people who loved the truth. “There are consequences for walking away from You, Lord, from Your Word … consequences for walking in the darkness.” His tone held no judgment toward her. A long time ago he had been the one risking his life for a night of going against God. He had nearly died of alcohol poisoning before the Lord got his attention. A sad sigh slipped from deep in his lungs. “Please, Father, bring healing to my mom, to our relationship. And show us both what the future is supposed to look like. In Jesus’ name, amen.”
He stood and hugged his mom. She held on longer than him, same as always. He didn’t mind. His days as a prisoner of war in Iraq had taught him what life was like in captivity. Of course his mother held on as long as she could. It was a long time between Sundays, when every day was a reminder of all that could’ve been, all that might’ve been.
As he made his way out of the prison, Cody felt like the walls were closing in on him. His mind filled with images of bars and cells and people screaming for a chance at freedom. He blinked, trying to shake the pictures. Not until he was in his truck, the doors shut and locked, did the vision hit him again. This time clearly the scenes in his head weren’t from his mother’s prison.
They were from his own.
Crouched in an Iraqi cell … dust crusted in his hair and fingernails and eyelashes. Dirt choking the breath from his throat, the only sound his raspy breathing and the scratching skittering of rats on the floor outside his cell. What was this feeling, the tightness in his chest? His heart pounded like it was looking for a way out, and he couldn’t get enough air, couldn’t shake the suffocation that had come over him like a wet blanket.
Dear God, why is this happening? Is it the prison? He gripped the steering wheel and let his head fall back against the seat rest. It’s been years since Iraq … so why the flashbacks, Father … why now?
There was no answer, and again the visions came at him, relentless and vivid. The voice of an Iraqi soldier bursting into the room, barking at him, shoving a rifle butt into the cramped cage and shouting at him in Arabic. Despite the cold air in his pickup, sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled down his temples. Help me, God … take away the pictures in my head. Please …
Again, no response.
Cody forced himself to focus. When this had happened before, the only way out was Scripture. He closed his eyes tight and remembered a Bible verse from Deuteronomy. When you go to war against your enemies and see horses and chariots and armies bigger than yours, do not be afraid of them. The Lord your God who brought you up out of Egypt will be with you.
As the verse took root in his heart, the slightest relief came. For the first time in fifteen minutes the pressure in his chest eased. When you go to war against your enemies and see horses and chariots …
Cody said the words again and again, letting the truth of God battle against the horror of his memories. It was true, of course. God had rescued him from the prison in Iraq once already. He would do so again now, and as often as Cody needed His help. That was the point of the Bible verse.
Another five minutes passed before Cody could breathe normally, before he felt ready to tackle the rest of his day. Before he could open his eyes without feeling the walls closing in around him. Thank You, Father … You care about me. I know You do.
For the first time in a long time, Cody thought about his own father, the one he’d never known. Where was he this Sunday afternoon and did he know that his son was struggling? Did he care? Cody dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. His mother had explained the situation a long time ago. His father wasn’t ready to be a dad. That’s why he hadn’t been a part of Cody’s life. But still, it was normal to wonder, to wish on a day like this that he could drive across town and have a family day with someone other than his mom. Someone not in prison.
He rolled down the window and breathed in deep. The cold air felt good against his face. How crazy to think about his dad after all these years. Nothing good could ever come from such thinking. Not now or ever. He turned the key and waited a minute while the engine warmed up. Then he headed back home. On the way he remembered a message he’d gotten yesterday from Tara Collins. He took his phone from the other seat and at the next light he tapped a few buttons and played her message again.
“Cody, listen here! It’s been too long since you dragged yourself over to my house for dinner.” Cody smiled. Even Tara’s voice was larger than life, the way everything was about her. “I’m cooking up a pot roast tomorrow and I’m setting you a place. So figure it out and take care of all y’all’s chores and tasks and whatnot, and get your hungry self over here.” She paused, laughter in her voice. “All right then. See you tomorrow.”
Tara Collins. Cody shook his head, missing the woman. She was the closest thing he had to family now that he wasn’t a part of the Flanigans. At the thought of Bailey’s family, Cody felt the sudden urge to turn his truck around, head west to Bloomington, and show up at her house for dinner or for a conversation on the porch. He would tell her that he was sorry about how things had ended and he’d make her understand his reasons for staying away. But his argument sounded weak, even to him. He had no idea how he would defend it to her.
The truth — the real truth — was that by now there had to be little danger posed by his mother’s drug-dealer friend. The guy had been arrested so he had his own troubles to deal with. Cody certainly hadn’t seen any signs of the man.
So maybe he should make the drive. What if his mother was right? Maybe he should find Bailey and tell her he was at fault, that he never should’ve let her go. Cody kept his eyes on the road. No, that was crazy. Bailey deserved someone like her father. Someone whole, with a pristine past.
My son … you are forgiven and whole. I know the plans I have for you … good plans …
The words filled the space around him and inside him, and the impact of them was so great Cody nearly pulled off the road. Cornfields and wide open spaces surrounded the highway under a gray sky and there were almost no other cars on the road. Cody decided not to stop. But even so he had trouble focusing on the drive when God had clearly just spoken to him. The Lord often reminded him of Scriptures and words of wisdom from the godly people in his life. But this? As if God was riding shotgun in his pickup?
Adrenaline worked its way through his body, and he sat up straighter, his heart beating fast again. What had the voice said, the one that resonated through his being? That he was forgiven and whole, that God had great plans for him. The words were a combination of Bible verses, and they lifted his heart and mood. Maybe not this weekend, but sometime in the next few weeks he would make a trip to Bloomington. He missed Bailey so much he sometimes wondered how he made it through an entire day without her.
Yes, he would take the trip sometime this month, once the snow melted a little more. Maybe he and Bailey could take a walk the way they used to, talk about what the last few months had been like for both of them. Again Cody felt himself relax. He couldn’t be sure what would come of such a visit, but he would take the drive, make the trip to Bloomington. But for now he would have dinner at Tara’s.
He stopped at a grocery store and picked up a gallon of vanilla ice cream, something to go with the hot dessert Tara would inevitably make. It was the least he could do. He arrived at her house just before five o’clock — early enough to help out. As far as he knew he was the only one sharing dinner with her tonight. Usually if she’d invited anyone else she would say so.
Tara met him at the screen door of her neatly manicured brick house before he reached the porch steps. “Cody!” Her voice was almost as big as her smile. She pushed the door open and held both arms out. “I knew you wouldn’t let me have dinner alone again.”
“Whatever you’re cooking, it smells wonderful.” He hugged her and followed her into the house. “What can I do?”
“See that potato peeler?” She pointed to a spot next to the sink. Then she grinned at a bowl of freshly washed potatoes. “Put it to work!”
Cody rolled up his sleeves and crossed the kitchen to the sink.
“You look real good, Cody.” Tara was ripping lettuce leaves on the other side of the counter, making a salad too large for two. “Taking care of yourself, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Cody stifled a grin. Everything about being with Tara made him feel like he belonged. The way he had always felt when he was with the Flanigans. Having dinner here took the edge off his loneliness. He glanced over his shoulder at her. “I work out with the team most days. Jog a couple miles, lift some weights.”
“Well, it shows.” She waved her knife in the air. “Art was always lifting weights, and it showed on him too. Good for a young man. Keep you strong.”
“Exactly.” Cody was about to ask why they needed so many potatoes when the doorbell rang. He raised a single eyebrow at Tara. “Thought it was just you and me.”
“Are you kidding?” Tara grabbed a dishtowel and flicked it at him as she walked past. “You don’t have half the sense of a turnip. If I didn’t invite that pretty little Cheyenne over here, you’d never see her.” She stopped and shook her head, a mock look of disapproval on her face. “Wasted youth. I tell you what …” She walked off still muttering about the fact that Cody hadn’t called Cheyenne once all month.
A strange sense of nervousness came over Cody and he doubled his effort on the potato in his hand. The way Tara was trying to set him up with Cheyenne was beginning to feel awkward, as if maybe she would truly be upset with him if he didn’t pursue the girl who was once engaged to Art. Then there was Cheyenne, and however she might feel about all this. She’d already lost so much when Art died. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.
The two of them returned to the kitchen, and Cody set the peeler down in the bowl and turned. It had been three weeks since he’d seen Cheyenne at Tara’s house, and he was struck again by her eyes. Gorgeous brown eyes with lashes that went on forever. Something about her was alluring, intriguing. It wasn’t her looks — though she was very pretty. It was more something in her soul, a quiet strength born out of loss and pain, and the ability to survive, ready to live again on the other side.
“Hi.” She smiled and crossed her arms, surveying him. She wore a pale blue turtleneck and jeans, and she was breathless from the cold outside. “I see Tara’s put you to work” She came closer and picked up one of his finished potatoes. The lines were smooth, and none of the brown peeling was left. “Hmmm. I’m impressed.” She was so close he could smell her perfume. Something woodsy or spicy maybe? “Most guys can’t peel a potato.”
Cody thought about all the times he’d made dinner for himself because his mom was passed out on the couch, or because he had to fend for himself when she was in prison. Potatoes were cheap, and his mom always kept them in the house. The first time he peeled a potato he was probably only seven or eight. Plus he’d learned his way around a kitchen watching the Flanigans too. Even the youngest of Bailey’s brothers knew how to cook basic food.
“Well …” He set to work on the next potato and grinned at her. “I’m not most guys.”
She looked at him and held his gaze. Held it for several seconds. “That much I know.”
Suddenly Cody caught Tara’s approving smile from across the room. She was chopping tomatoes, sprinkling them onto the salad. Again a sense of alarm crept in around Cody’s happy mood. What was he doing? And how come he could so easily find chemistry with Cheyenne when his heart still longed for Bailey? He made an effort to be less flirty, and the rest of the evening conversation was easy between the three of them. Tara talked about winning a promotion at work, and how Cheyenne was working hard on her classes this semester. She wanted to be a nurse — something she hadn’t been sure of the first time Cody met her.
“Art would be so proud, baby girl. So proud.” Tara stood and gave Cheyenne a side hug right in the middle of dinner. “I always knew you had the gift of sweet mercies. You go after those A’s.”
Cheyenne cast a slightly embarrassed look at Cody. She was clearly not comfortable in the spotlight. Her humility was another reason Cody sometimes felt drawn to her. He smiled and gave a light shrug, then he turned his attention back to the pot roast still on his plate. What was this connection between them, and why did he feel it more strongly tonight?
He and Cheyenne both helped with the cleanup, and afterwards Tara talked them into a game of Scrabble — which Cheyenne easily won.
“See there, Cody!” Tara threw her head back and laughed out loud. “Better not let that girl go. Right, Chey?”
“Mama.” Cheyenne hadn’t changed the familiar title. Art was gone, yes, but the love between Cheyenne and Tara would always remain. Cheyenne giggled some, keeping the tone of the conversation playful. She angled her head and shot a warning look at Tara. “Cody’s my friend. Leave him alone.”
“But you don’t have to tell me how smart she is,” Cody raised his brow at his dismal Scrabble score. “Pretty sure her game just told us that much.”
With the game over, they shared dessert and Cody dished the ice cream. As they sat back down, Tara’s easy laughter faded. “So, baby girl, how are you really? You put Art’s things away yet?”
Cheyenne clearly wasn’t expecting the conversation to go in this direction. She looked off toward a framed photo of Art on Tara’s dining room wall. She set her spoon down and shook her head — almost apologetically. “I can’t do it, Mama. I still … I still feel him all around me.” Her voice caught and she struggled for the next words. “If I take everything down, it would be like … like I’ve moved on and then,” she shook her head, “what would that say about me?”
The conversation made Cody feel uncomfortable … like he shouldn’t be there. But he had no choice, and in this moment more than any other he understood again his connection to Cheyenne. Her loss, her vulnerability. She had paid such a very great cost for letting Art go to war, for standing by while he paid the sacrifice for freedom. For the freedom they all shared. It made Cody want to take her in his arms and hold her until the pain in her heart was finally healed.
Tara covered Cheyenne’s hand with her own. In a voice that was as loving as it was stern, she looked straight at Cheyenne. “It would say you’re a healthy young woman and you still have a life ahead of you.” She gave a firm nod. “You put his things away.”
Her words seemed to touch some part of Cheyenne’s soul. She nodded, and some of the sadness faded from her smile. “We can talk about it later. Okay, Mama?”
“Okay.” Tara leaned closer and kissed Cheyenne’s cheek. “My Art would want you to live, baby girl. You get his things boxed up.”
The conversation grew light again, Tara detailing how she found a frog in her basement and chased it up the stairs and around the house before she shooed him out into the cold. “I mean, I like frogs same as the next country girl, but that’s pushing the limits.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t invite him in for pot roast.” Cody laughed and he and Cheyenne swapped another smile. “You’ll take anyone in.”
Finally, after nine o’clock — with the kitchen clean — Cody and Cheyenne hugged Tara and headed to their cars.
Like always, Tara stood on the top step and folded her arms, her cheeks sucked in. “I’m telling you, Cody Coleman. Don’t make me set you up next time. Call the girl.” She let out an exasperated cry. “Heaven have mercy if all young men moved as slow as you.”
“Enough, Mama.” Cheyenne laughed and held up her hand, waving the woman off. “Goodnight.”
“Yes, goodnight.” Cody grinned and waved the same way, making light especially of Tara’s command. “Thanks for dinner.”
They were still laughing, still shaking their heads as Cody walked Cheyenne to her car. Again Cody noticed the easiness between them, and for the first time he considered the possibility. No matter how much he cared for Bailey, they had never found a way to make things work. So maybe he should call Cheyenne, take her out for dinner. Something to break up the monotony of his weekends. Something to encourage her to box up Art’s things.
As Cheyenne slipped into the driver’s seat, he leaned in near her window. “Do you mind?”
“Mind?” She gave him a curious look. “Mind what?”
“If I call you … ask you out for dinner some time.” His stomach dropped to his knees. Was he really doing this? Asking Cheyenne on a date? “I mean, Tara’s going to make me eat in the backyard with the frogs if I don’t, right?”
“Never mind Tara.” Cheyenne’s eyes shone in the light from the street lamp. “She’s harmless.”
Cody let the silence settle in around them. A comfortable silence. “But maybe I want to, Chey. You know, just have dinner with you.”
For a long time she didn’t say anything. Her eyes found a spot on the road straight ahead and she looked like she might drive off without acknowledging his offer. But then she turned to him, her expression shyer than before. “Really?”
“Yeah … really.” He smiled, and for a moment he allowed himself to be lost in her eyes. “Are you that surprised?”
Cheyenne didn’t know about Bailey. He hadn’t allowed himself to get that close to her. But even so she must have gathered that he was closed off to the idea of dating her.
“Yeah.” She nodded, teasing. “Very surprised.”
“Hmmm.” Cody mustered up his best sheepish look. “I haven’t been very social, huh?”
She made a face like she couldn’t exactly argue with the idea. “Not really …”
He braced himself against her open window. A chuckle filled in the empty spaces, and he looked at the ground for a minute before finding her eyes again. “Okay, so, I’ve been busy. But maybe next Saturday?”
“Maybe.” A flirty look came over her and she started her engine. “I’m pretty sure Tara would want you to call and ask me, proper-like.”
Cody looked over his shoulder back at Tara’s house. She was inside, but they could see her peering at them through the living room window. Cheyenne followed his gaze and they both laughed and waved once more in her direction. She shooed her hand at them and closed the curtains. As his laughter died down, Cody nodded. “You’re right about what Tara would want. I want that too.” He stood and took a step back. “Look for that call, okay?”
“Okay.” Her smile lingered. “I’ll do that.” She put her car into gear and drove off.
Cody headed for his car, but he carried with him a handful of deeply conflicting emotions. He wanted to have dinner with Cheyenne — he really did. Especially after watching her talk about Art.
She wasn’t ready for love.
But both of them could use a friend. So why not get together? As the thought became more comfortable, another one barged in. What if Bailey was doing the same thing back in Bloomington? Meeting people … making dinner plans and calling it friendship.
The thought made him glad he was far away from the town where he’d grown up. He’d watched Bailey date Tim Reed and then be the constant companion of Hollywood heartthrob Brandon Paul. Whatever she was doing now, he didn’t want to know. The longer he thought about Bailey, the more sure he was that she couldn’t possibly be dating anyone — not even as friends. She wouldn’t be ready this soon after what the two of them had found together last summer. By the time he pulled up in front of his apartment, he realized something else. He had spent the entire ride home thinking not of Cheyenne, but of Bailey. Which could only mean one thing.
He wasn’t ready either.