Leaving (17 page)

She put her hands on either side of his face and for a long time she said nothing, but just let the ocean breeze move around them while she looked into his eyes. Finally she said the only thing she could say, the truth that had risen to the surface these past two days. “I feel it. I do, Brandon.” She laughed, nervous because she
had actually allowed herself to say exactly what was on her heart. “Wow.” She lowered her hands and took a few steps away from him. When she turned back, she brushed her hair from her face and her laughter faded. “Did I really say that?”

“You did.” He wasn’t going to let the moment pass. He walked to her and took her hands in his again. This time — for the first time — he slid his fingers between hers. Bailey felt her stomach fall, the way it did when she and her brothers rode the Viper at Six Flags in Chicago. “So, I finish up my movie … and I come to Bloomington.” His words were slow. They had a hypnotic effect over her, like everything about his presence slowed time, and made the world stand still.

“Brandon, …” She swallowed, desperate for the right words. “I feel it … I do. I never thought …” She looked up, grasping for a plan. “I figured you and I would always be friends. That your … your life would never work with mine.”

“It can. Bailey, … you have to believe that.” Slowly, ever so slowly, he pulled her close and just when she thought he might kiss her, he brushed the side of his face against hers. “Please, Bailey, … give us a chance. You’re the best friend I have.” He eased back, searching her face, her eyes. “But I’m in love with you. Completely and fully.”

Bailey had a million questions, logistics that simply didn’t line up. Brandon would finish his shoot when? In six weeks? And then he’d come to Bloomington to do what? He would be recognized everywhere he went, which meant they could really only hang out at her parents’ house. And even then eventually that would draw paparazzi. Bailey Flanigan in Bloomington might not be worth their time. But Brandon Paul staying at the Flanigan house? That would bring an army of them. And then what? She would finish her semester and move to Los Angeles? Fight her way through the maze of concrete high rises and never-ending freeways?

With all the unknowns crashing together in her mind, she
could think of just one that made sense. “Your life … Brandon, you’re busy.” She could smell his cologne from earlier in the night, and he looked impossibly handsome. Something she hadn’t really noticed working with him on the
Unlocked
shoot, or even yesterday on the
Tonight Show.
But now … when she could see his heart for God and for her … now her attraction was so strong it shook her.

He stepped back, clearly concerned. “Look at Dayne and Katy … they made it work.”

Katy and Dayne’s relationship was something she’d tried not to think about this weekend. Because if she did, if she allowed herself to picture the way her dear friend and drama teacher, small-town girl Katy Hart, had worked things out with one of the country’s hottest movie stars Dayne Matthews, then Bailey could come to no other conclusion than the obvious one: If Katy could find a way to make things work, she could too.

The hours were slipping away, and already it was nearly three in the morning. “Can we do this?” Bailey put her hand alongside Brandon’s face again, lost in his eyes the way she wanted to stay. “Let’s pray about what God wants … whether this is His plan or just …” she felt the sadness in her smile, “just a magical weekend where both of us were bound to get swept away.”

He shook his head slowly, never breaking eye contact. “It’s not that. I told you … I’ve been thinking about this since the last time we were together. You’re the only girl, Bailey, … the only one I want.” He thought for a quick moment. “I wasn’t going to point this out, because I know it’s hard for you. But, Bailey, think about it …” He ran his hand along her arm again. “You auditioned for a Broadway show, and what happened?”

She hadn’t wanted to tell him, but she should’ve known him better. Of course he remembered. She had told him about the audition the last time they talked. The disappointment rang through her again. “They didn’t call. I … didn’t get the part.”

“But see? That’s how God answers prayers, Bailey, … it is.” He hugged her again, moving ever so slowly, holding her like she was the most rare treasure. “A no to Broadway might just mean a yes to Hollywood. Maybe a bigger world needs you.” He kissed the side of her face. “The way I need you, Bailey, … here with me.”

His words hit their mark, making her feet feel ten feet off the ground one more time. If she didn’t step back, create at least a little distance between them, she would lose herself in this moment, and they’d spend the next hour kissing and making promises she had no idea if either of them would be able to keep. With a self-discipline that could’ve only come from God, she drew back, breathless. “Brandon, …” she forced herself to find a voice of reason. “Can we pray … please?”

Their closeness had gotten to him, too; she could see the intense desire in his eyes, a desire that hadn’t been there even a few minutes ago. He breathed in deep, searching for control. “Of course.” He took her hands and, after nearly a minute, he began. “Dear Lord … You’ve brought Bailey and me together for a reason. I believe that … and we both feel it. I don’t want … just any casual relationship with her, God. You’ve changed me forever. You’ve changed what I want.”

Bailey again felt her heart melt at his words. She focused on God, on His place between them as they prayed.

“What I’m saying, Lord, is I want us to take our time and … and find Your plan. So please, God … make Your path clear. And as Bailey and her family leave in a few hours, let her know that she will take a piece of my heart with her. In Your name, amen.”

“Amen.”

He pulled her close, hugging her one last time. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“I don’t want to go.” Once more she was almost certain he was going to kiss her. Here in the moonlight, with the ocean in the background and Brandon’s arms around her, Bailey couldn’t
imagine anything better. But instead Brandon released her and slipped his hands into the pockets of his dress pants. Another deep breath, and like before he seemed to struggle with his resolve. “We better get inside.”

“Yes.” Bailey almost suggested they forget about getting sleep, sit out here on his balcony and talk and dream and watch the sun come up. But that would only leave her more confused when she left in a few hours. Whatever happened, she knew this much. Her feelings for Brandon were real, and just because her night as Cinderella was over, that didn’t mean she was going to disappear from his life. She had a very strong feeling he wouldn’t let her even if she tried.

Back in the house he walked her to the foot of the stairs, where she faced him one last time. “Tonight … this weekend. It was amazing, Brandon.”

“I’m glad.” He leaned close and very gently kissed her cheek. “I prayed that it would be.”

“I’ll call you. When I get back. And I’ll pray about this … about everything.”

“I know.” He smiled. “Go get some sleep. I’ll ride with you and your family in the morning.”

They hugged again, and Bailey was glad they were inside. The limits of her self-control were beyond tested. Before she could change her mind, she ran lightly up the stairs, brushed her teeth, and climbed into bed. She didn’t sleep, because she wasn’t the least bit tired. Not then, and not as they drove to the airport, and not as she and Brandon said goodbye.

Even on the plane she couldn’t do anything but stare out the window and beg God for clarity. She missed Brandon already, but that didn’t solve some of her bigger concerns. Like how she’d handle the public eye or when they’d find time to hang out together with hundreds of paparazzi trailing them and both of them most likely working on different movie sets — maybe even in different
countries. Nothing about that life sounded like something Bailey could embrace. It was entirely different than the life she’d once pictured with Cody. But, despite her reservations, she felt her heart dance when she turned on her phone as the plane landed and there was this simple text from Brandon:

Praying … believing … knowing God will show you the way.

She sighed and kept the text to herself. Her mother had asked about her night, but she hadn’t wanted to go into detail yet. She and her mom would need an evening on the front porch for her to go over everything she and Brandon had talked about, everything she’d felt while she was in his arms last night on the balcony.

The family trudged into the house weary and dragging suitcases behind them. It was already three in the afternoon, and they all had much to do to get ready for the morning. Only by chance did Bailey wander into the kitchen and see the red light flashing on their home phone.
Strange,
she thought. Her dad had already passed this way. Usually he checked the messages.

She went to the machine and pressed the play button. There was only one message, and it was quick and to the point. “This is for Bailey Flanigan … this is Francesca Tilly.” Her voice was stern, clearly frustrated. “I’m not sure why we haven’t heard from you. I can only assume you didn’t get our first message. We didn’t ask you in for a callback, because you clearly won the role. We have a part for you, but I’ll need to hear from you on Monday.” The director left her number and then hung up.

Bailey’s hand shook as she returned the phone to the base. The last time she took a message from Francesca Tilly she’d felt completely different. She’d run around the kitchen screaming and celebrating. This time there was the familiar thrill, no doubt, and she couldn’t wait to tell her mom and dad. But the call — like a sudden storm — came with very strong certainties. Soon … in a matter of weeks … she would move away — leaving everything she knew and loved about Bloomington and life here with her
family. The producers would help her locate housing — they’d promised that at the audition — and Bailey would have to learn how to survive in the city. But there was more to her emotions than that.

Tears filled her eyes and for this moment she stood still, processing what had happened. Especially after the weekend with Brandon. She blinked, trying to rope in her crazy conflicting emotions. Why was she sad? This was her dream! She’d won a role on Broadway! A part in a real actual Broadway show, and not just any show but
Hairspray.
In almost every way she had never been more grateful, more excited in all her life. God had answered her prayers … she
had
been good enough!

But at the same time she could still feel Brandon beside her, still smell his cologne as it mixed with the ocean air. The life they’d talked about, the relationship he wanted … they had asked for God to show them, and now Bailey had no doubt whatsoever. This was the answer. Which was why her heart hurt, despite the celebration that lay ahead. Because if God was opening the door for her to live and work in New York City, that could only mean one thing.

He was closing the door on Brandon Paul.

T
HE MINUTE
C
ODY REPORTED FOR WORK THAT
F
RIDAY HE GOT
word that the principal wanted to see him. Since he’d started teaching and coaching at Lyle, he’d had nothing but glowing reports from the administration — especially the principal, Valerie Baker.

But now, as he walked to her office, he began to doubt himself. Maybe Coach Oliver had complained about him … or possibly one of his students hadn’t appreciated the way he’d handled a PE class. He couldn’t think of any single situation, but there was no way to tell. He walked toward Ms. Baker’s door and smiled at the ladies who made up the front office staff. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” The woman closest to him was younger than the other three. She always went out of her way to be friendly, but today her eyes danced and she seemed about to burst. Like she could barely contain a secret.

Cody hesitated, but only for half a second before he finished the walk to Ms. Baker’s office. After a quick knock on the door, she welcomed him inside. As always, the woman was the picture of professionalism. Her desk—though a little scattered—was full of probably half a dozen projects she must’ve been working on. She motioned to the chair opposite her desk. “Have a seat, Mr. Coleman.”

Whatever it was, she sounded serious. “Thank you.” He sat and folded his hands, not sure if he should make small talk or just wait. He decided on the latter.

Once she was situated, she pulled a piece of paper from a file and studied it. “Coach Oliver won’t be returning to Lyle.” She lifted her eyes, the consummate professional. “I want to explain the reason.” She paused. “This is a private matter, Mr. Coleman.”

Cody wanted to quietly rejoice, but he needed to wait. He didn’t wish ill on Coach Oliver or anyone. No matter how difficult the man had been to work with. He had to hand it to Ms. Baker. The coach had been nothing but rude to her, questioning her authority and talking behind her back — at least as far as Cody had seen. But here the woman refused to celebrate the man’s departure from their staff. Instead she stayed matter-of-fact as she launched into the explanation.

“Coach Oliver is a Vietnam vet,” Ms. Baker sighed. “Did you know that?”

“I didn’t.” Immediately Cody was seized with regret. If he’d been paying a little more attention he might’ve figured that out, right? The man had certain pins and insignias on his jacket, the one that hung in his office. But Cody had never been invited in, never spent more than a minute or two at the man’s doorway. He’d never had the chance to ask about the jacket or whether the man had served their country.

“Yes.” Ms. Baker studied the paper again. “I imagine … at some point back in time, Coach Oliver and you would’ve had a lot in common.” She sighed. “From what I know now, the war changed him. The strain — even after so many years — has gotten worse, apparently.”

An uneasy feeling spread through Cody’s chest. What was she saying? Could she possibly have known about the nightmares he suffered from, or the way he could, for no reason, suddenly smell the body odor of an Iraqi soldier the moment before he beat Cody? He swallowed, his eyes on his knees.

“Anyway, he’s gone out on a stress disability. The memories of war … the rejection … all of it. I guess it weighs heavy on him.”

There had been no way to tell any of this, and Cody was almost too surprised to respond. The coach had continued his verbal abuse right up until yesterday. Now—on a Friday midway through April — he was suddenly unable to come to work? What did that say about his performance and attitude, his treatment of the guys? Was it all part of his stress? If so, why hadn’t he gone out on leave a year ago?

Another sigh slipped from Ms. Baker. “Mr. Coleman, I realize that Coach Oliver has been very difficult to work with. He left us no apology, no explanation for the way he treated students and staff. Truthfully, I should’ve fired him a long time ago.” Her voice softened. “But I knew about his time in Vietnam. My father served with him.”

It was another revelation, and Cody felt his expression change. “Did … did they know each other?”

“Yes.” There was no hiding the sorrow in her eyes. “They were friends. My father died saving Coach Oliver’s life.” She narrowed her eyes, as if she couldn’t help but remember how the man used to be. “Back then … he was a much … much different man.”

“I … didn’t know.” Cody felt like someone had sucked the air from the room. So much of the past suddenly made sense. Ms. Baker’s reason for keeping the coach on staff, the man’s bitterness, his anger toward life. And in as much time as it took to exhale, all Cody could think about was himself. How would he be around people a year from now? Ten years or twenty? Would memories of the war haunt him forever, change him into someone even he wouldn’t recognize?

“What I’m trying to say, is that the school board has given approval to offer you a full-time position at Lyle, Mr. Coleman. With the understanding that you will finish your teaching credential, of course. And …” she smiled, “we’d like you to take over as the varsity football coach.”

Cody should’ve seen it coming … as soon as the principal
told him Coach Oliver wasn’t returning, the obvious conclusion was that he might take over. But still the news hit him like a sudden wind, and for a few seconds he couldn’t think of a thing to say. He was being offered his first full-time teaching and coaching position — the dream he’d spent years imagining and planning for. God had worked good out of all of it — his mother’s time in prison, his decision to leave Bloomington, his transfer to the Indianapolis campus to finish his education. He never would’ve learned about this position otherwise.

“Mr. Coleman?” A slightly bewildered expression came over Ms. Baker. “Are you … considering my offer?”

“No!” He spoke before he had time to think and then he laughed and shifted in his seat … nervous, excited energy bursting through him. “I mean, yes! Yes, I’ll accept the position. Of course.” He laughed again, trying to get his mind around all that had just happened. Coach Oliver’s situation was sad, and Cody wanted to talk to the man at some point, explain how much he could empathize with the man’s time at war. But for now it meant the kids were free! Free to enjoy football and believe in themselves and begin an entirely new and positive season at Lyle High.

“Very well,” she laughed, too. “I was beginning to wonder if this was something you’d be interested in.”

“Beyond interested.” He shook his head, still searching for the right words. “I’ve been praying for those kids … for a miracle for them and the program.” He wasn’t sure how much he should say. “I’m sorry about Coach Oliver, but … yes.” He could feel his smile filling his face. “I’m beyond thankful.” He stood to shake her hand. “You won’t be sorry, Ms. Baker. I’ll give those boys everything I have.”

She smiled, her eyes warm. “I believe you.”

He signed paperwork next, and then it was time to resume his place in the classroom — no longer a part-time teacher, but a full-fledged instructor at Lyle High. The students might not have
noticed it, but Cody had no doubt he was standing taller, walking more confidently and believing in God’s plans for his life more than ever before.

All through the day he couldn’t shake his smile, not through five PE classes, and not as he dressed out for football practice and headed to the field. “Hey, Coach,” DeMetri caught up with him as they walked to the nearest end zone. “What’s up with you?”

“Smitty!” Cody couldn’t have hidden his excitement if he wanted to. “Is it a great day to be a Buckaroo, or what?”

“Uh … I guess.” For a few steps DeMetri said nothing, just kept walking and casting strange glances at Cody. “Where’s Coach Oliver?”

“We’ll talk about that in a minute.” From this day on Lyle football would be a different team, a different experience. He would care about these kids and invest in them, and he would teach them the game of football the way it had been taught to him — at the highest level, with intensity, hard work, and compassion. And with a sense of teamwork and camaraderie that would change this group of guys from a fledgling team to a family. Cody grinned and chuckled again. “I mean let me tell you, Smitty. It
is
a great day to be a Buckaroo.”

They reached the field, where other players waited and still others were running in from the parking lot. Cody stopped and faced DeMetri, put his hands on the boy’s shoulders, and looked straight at him. “I’ll say this.” He could feel his eyes shining with possibility. “God always hears us when we pray, isn’t that right?”

DeMetri still looked baffled. “Yes, sir … of course.”

“And you, Smitty … you never stopped praying, isn’t that right?”

“That’s right.” DeMetri’s mouth hung open a little and he blinked a few times. “Can I … can I ask what’s going on?”

“It’s good, Smitty.” He winked at the player. “God heard your prayers.” Cody chuckled and turned to the group of players
gathering around him. Coach Oliver’s troubles were a sad situation, and maybe one day Cody could help be part of the solution. But for now all that mattered was the change in command here at Lyle. “Alright, everyone. Bring it in. I’ve got an announcement!”

C
ODY PULLED UP IN FRONT OF
T
ARA’S HOUSE
and checked his watch. Cheyenne was already here, and he was ten minutes late. Not surprising, with how well practice had gone. They were in such a groove, making such headway, and clicking so well that they’d gone ten minutes over.

Not until he got in his truck and checked his phone did he see the invitation from Tara for dinner that night.

“Cheyenne will be there … so I’ll just take that as a yes, Cody.” Her laughter filled the phone line with joy and life. “Besides … what else you got going on this Friday night?”

A few times in the past week Cody had talked to Cheyenne — about little Kassie and how she was doing and about Cheyenne’s schooling and his. She was one of his only friends in this new season of life, someone who had filled the empty places when he might’ve talked to Bailey or her family. He wasn’t anywhere near as close to Cheyenne, of course, and he didn’t have feelings for her like he still did for Bailey. But she was kind and intelligent, and he enjoyed the newness of her friendship more than he thought he might.

Tara was at the door to greet him, talking a mile a minute about work and the water heater bursting last week and how Indianapolis was one of the last great cities because even a repair man had the sense to use his manners and get his work done in a timely manner.

It wasn’t until they were seated at the table around meatloaf, mashed potatoes, and gravy that Tara turned to him and cocked her head. “Now, Cody, I’ve been doing all the talking … but I
know sure as the roof over my head that something’s up in that big ol’ mind of yours.” She kept her eyes on Cody, but poked an elbow in Cheyenne’s direction. “You see it, Chey? You see what I’m talking about?”

“I do.” Cheyenne giggled. Tara left neither of them any choice but to enjoy every minute with her. Chey turned her pretty eyes to Cody. “Football practice must’ve gone well, maybe?”

“Yes. Very well.” Cody laughed and set down his fork. It felt good to have these two women know him so well, to sit around a dinner table with people he felt comfortable sharing with, and who could read his expression as easily as if he were family. He’d already told them both about the tough situation with Coach Oliver and the way the players seemed defeated and discouraged and the season was still six months off.

“Actually, yes … something’s up.” He drew a long breath. “I was offered a full-time teaching position at Lyle today.”

Tara slapped her hand on the table, pushed back, and stood. “You were not!” Her hands flew to her face and she turned one way, then the other, like she wanted to run a few laps in celebration, but given the size of the house, the idea wasn’t possible. She lifted her hands toward heaven, talking fast and loud. “Merciful God, … what a great answer!”

“I know.” He laughed, enjoying Tara’s reaction. “I can’t believe it.” He paused, letting the moment build. “And … they made me the head football coach.”

“Cody!” Cheyenne’s eyes shone with pride. “That’s amazing! What happened?”

“Yes,” Tara muttered a few
Praise Jesus’
under her breath as she sat back down. “I’ve been praying for that school to come to their senses ever since I heard about all the troubles over there, so tell us … what happened?”

Without getting too detailed, Cody explained that Coach Oliver needed a stress disability … unresolved issues from decades
ago during Vietnam. Even as he said it he felt a pang of fear. What if that’s what people said about him decades from today? He pushed the thought from his mind once more. “I told the boys today at practice.” He grinned, ignoring the way his hands suddenly shook.
Breathe, Cody … you won’t be like Coach Oliver. Not ever.

“I’ll bet they celebrated loud as little girls at a princess party.” Tara clapped her hands a few times and nodded big. She had made it clear on a number of occasions that she thought there was a place in prison for anyone who berated kids. Especially young men. This time she pointed straight up. “That-a-way, God … You always get the final word.”

Cody felt himself relax again. This was a celebration, a happy moment. No reason to think about war or the ramifications his time in Iraq might have twenty or thirty years from now. He forced himself to focus. “They were happy … but first thing we did was pray for Coach Oliver.”

“Yes.” Cheyenne’s take was slightly more serious than Tara’s. “The man needs our prayers.”

“I’ll tell you what that man needs …” Tara’s expression took on that of a mother bear about to settle a score. But she must’ve caught the earnestness in Cheyenne’s tone, because she visibly relaxed and her wrinkled brow smoothed some. “Prayer.” She cleared her throat and nodded, clearly working to convince herself. She folded her hands in an attempt at sweetness. “Prayer. That’s exactly what he needs.”

They all laughed, and Cody explained that he was careful not to let the practice become a discussion about Coach Oliver’s shortcomings. “We put all our energy into the practice, and I’ll tell you what …” he shook his head and exhaled through pursed lips. “Best practice I’ve ever seen from those guys.” He looked from Tara to Cheyenne. “I’m beyond excited for the season.”