Leaving (18 page)

The conversation moved from Cody’s new position, to good
news about Kassie, whose blood counts seemed to be better than ever. “She’s not out of the woods, but she’s getting there.” Cheyenne glowed, obviously taken by the little girl. “We’ll keep praying.”

“That we will!” Tara punctuated the air with her fork. “Our God’s a great God. He’s working in that little girl’s life, I have no doubt.”

Dinner ended, and after dishes Cheyenne came to him and touched his arm. “Want to take a walk?”

Cody looked at Tara, but she was already waving her hand at him. “Cody Coleman, don’t make me lead you outta this house by your hand.” She waved at him again, making a brushing motion toward the door. “Take that girl for a walk! Don’t make her ask you twice. And whatever you do, don’t ask me to go along. I’ve got a boatload of email to answer.” When they still hesitated, she brushed her hands in their direction again. “Git … git! You hear me?”

Both Cheyenne and Cody were still laughing as they headed outside and down the steps. The mid-April night was warmer than it had been a week ago. Cody had a feeling spring would be beautiful, and for a split moment he remembered the flowers in the Flanigans’ backyard. They would be beautiful this time of year.

“I … I hope this is okay.” Cheyenne slipped her hands in the back pockets of her blue jeans. She glanced at him, her pace slow and easy. “Taking a walk, I mean.”

“Of course.” He looked at the sky through the maple trees that lined Tara’s street. The leaves weren’t open yet, but the buds were close. Stars hung low in the sky overhead, and the night air was still. “I like walking — especially after dinner.”

Quiet came over them for a little while. They walked side by side, their arms occasionally brushing against each other. “Beautiful night.”

“It is.” Again they were quiet, but Cody could sense a restlessness in her, like she wanted to talk about more than the weather but she wasn’t quite sure where to begin. He slowed, and caught her eyes as they rounded the corner. “What’s on your mind, Chey?”

She smiled. “I like that.”

“What?” He felt entirely at ease.

“Just … the way you call me ‘Chey.’” The way she said it sounded like she was saying her name and describing her personality all at the same time. Her painful past made it easy to understand why she might be a little more shy, a bit more reserved. She gave him a pretty smile. “Chey’s what my friends call me.”

“And I’m your friend.” They might not know each other all that well yet, but he could’ve told her anything. He trusted her.

“Exactly.” She smiled, laughing a little, her eyes straight ahead again. “Now that we have that settled.” Again she waited, and gradually her smile fell flat. She crossed her arms, as if a slight shiver had come over her. They were about to pass a small city park, and she pointed at a bench ahead in the darkness. She glanced his way. “Can we sit? For a few minutes?”

“Sure.” Cody had no idea what was on her mind, but he wasn’t worried. They reached the bench and sat … a few inches between them. Here, with trees all around them, the night felt cooler than before. He angled himself so he could see her. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes. With me.” She turned, pulling one knee up onto the bench. “It’s just … earlier when you talked about that coach … his time at Vietnam and his stress disability.” She narrowed her eyes, as if she were searching beyond his eyes to his soul. “I saw something change in you. For the first time since I’ve known you … it was like you were afraid.”

Her keen awareness made his heart beat faster, and after only a few seconds, he could no longer look into her eyes, no longer sit
here and let her see straight through him. He breathed in slowly through his nose and stared at a spot on the ground a few feet ahead. Should he tell her? Should she know about his nightmares and flashbacks? He was about to look up and tell her everything. How he could still smell the rancid Iraqi prison and how he could feel the sharp butt of the rifle against his ribs. How sometimes he still felt trapped in the same cage that had held him back then.

But just as he turned to her, just as he was about to speak, another image came to mind … one as strong and powerful as any flashback he’d had about Iraq. The face of Bailey Flanigan. He raked his fingers through his short dark hair and released a sound that was as much nervous laugh as it was a groan. “Nah … no fear, Chey.” And in as much time as it took to feel her honest eyes on his, Cody stood. “I guess I feel a little sorry for the old coach.” He held his hand out to her. “Come on … we have to get back.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but it put a clear end to the moment.

“Cody, …” Regret filled her eyes as she took his hand and stood before him. “I didn’t mean to push, I just … I could be wrong, but I thought …”

He made a conscious choice to release her hand as soon as she was on her feet. But even so, a part of him wanted to hug the kind-hearted girl before him and tell her exactly how right she had been.
Be careful, Cody … don’t hurt her … you’re not ready
… Bailey’s smile flashed in his mind again. He couldn’t tell Cheyenne anything as personal as his struggles with memories from war. Opening up like that would only complicate things. Instead he hid his fear below the surface of his heart and found a careful smile. “Good idea … taking a walk.”

They picked up their pace some on the way back, and Cody kept the conversation light — the drills they’d run in practice, the antics between some of the kids in his third-period PE class, and his roommate’s seeming inability to wash even a single dish.
When they returned to Tara’s, they were laughing, the brief awkwardness from earlier gone.

But that night and the next morning he couldn’t shake his thoughts of Bailey. Their separation was his fault, he was aware of that. And now that so much time had passed, she was probably no longer looking for texts or calls from him. No longer wishing he hadn’t left. Still, with everything in him he wanted to see her, spend a few hours with her.

So after breakfast he cleaned his apartment, started a load of laundry, climbed in his truck, and did the only thing he could do. He drove to the closest movie theater and bought a single ticket to see the movie he had avoided until now.

“One for
Unlocked,
please.”

He found a seat near the back, and since it was the first showing of the day, the auditorium wasn’t half full. The previews took forever, but finally, alone in the darkness, he had what he wanted. Two hours of Bailey Flanigan … her heart and kindness, her love for family and God and life. The movie amazed him, not only the tender storyline and powerful message, but the reality that Bailey was a gifted actress, able to convey her heart and soul on the silver screen.

Not that he was surprised.

He soaked in all of it, and as the closing scene came to an end, as the credits rolled and the theater began to empty, he could only be grateful he hadn’t opened up too much to Cheyenne. Because he knew one thing after spending two hours with Bailey here in an Indianapolis theater, even if she was — in reality—light years away.

Bailey Flanigan owned his heart. And like his time in Iraq, one way or another his feelings for Bailey would last as long as he lived.

J
ENNY AND THE BOYS WERE CLEANING UP AFTER DINNER, AND
all she could think as she looked around the kitchen was the obvious — this was how it was going to be with Bailey gone.

“Where’d Bailey go?” Jim had gone in the office to take a phone call.

“She’s outside on the front porch!” Ricky sank his hands elbow-deep in sudsy water and grinned in Jim’s direction. “Meaning she got out of the dishes again.”

“Meaning she’s probably texting someone.” Shawn cleared three glasses from the stove area and set them in the sink next to Jenny. “Right, Dad? When girls sit out on the front porch it’s never because they just want fresh air, right?”

Jenny laughed to herself. Shawn had asked questions since they adopted him from Haiti.

“Well,” Jim picked up a stack of dirty plates and followed Shawn to the sink. “It can mean that.”

“Yeah, because why else would she go outside right after dinner?” Justin shrugged. He wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, but he clearly liked where this conversation was going. “I mean, maybe she’s texting Matt Keagan. That would be cool, right? Matt Keagan and Bailey?”

“Last week it was Bailey and Brandon Paul.” Jim gave the boys a goofy grin, as if to tell them not to take any of Bailey’s friendships too seriously. “If Bailey falls in love, I’m sure we’ll be the first to know.”

“That won’t happen any time soon.” BJ was the quietest in the group. When he spoke, his approach was matter-of-fact and straightforward. He dragged a soapy washcloth over the kitchen counter and shrugged one shoulder. “She loves Cody Coleman. You all know that.”

For a long beat an awkward silence came over them, and Jenny was convinced as she had been a number of times before that Cody’s absence hurt the boys more than they talked about.

“Yeah, well,” Connor entered the room with an armload of dirty placemats. “If he loved her, he would call.”

“Right.” Justin gave Connor a determined, loyal sort of look. “He obviously doesn’t care.”

Jenny didn’t add to the conversation. She hurt for how the boys had to process Cody’s absence. When he was at war, the missing him was different. He had no choice but to be gone. But this time … Cody moving away without saying goodbye. The way he’d cut ties and moved on. It was hurtful. All of it.

“Anyway.” Ricky stuck out his chest, and like his brothers it was obvious he would defend Bailey to the end. “I like Matt.”

“I think he’s seeing someone else. So let’s talk about something else.” Jenny smiled at her boys, stepped back from the sink, and dried her hands. “Okay, Connor … your turn.”

Connor did as he was told, but his eyes danced more than usual. “Guess what I found out?”

“Don’t tell me …” Jim grabbed a towel and began drying the counter. “The 300-pound offensive lineman at Bloomington High is transferring to Clear Creek?”

Laughter came from all the boys and Connor pumped his fist in the air a few times. “As the quarterback I have to say … that
would
be great news.”

“Ahhh, yes.” Jim chuckled. “We live in hope.”

“Anyway,” Jenny enjoyed this and, in light of Bailey’s looming
move, she appreciated times like these more than ever. “Connor, you were saying …”

“I was saying …” He shook the water and soap from his hands and turned to the others. “I found out
American Idol
‘s auditioning in Indianapolis this summer!”

“And …” Jim froze, his hand mid-circle as he dried the stove. “You mean you’re trying out?”

Connor waited until he had the attention of everyone. Then when he couldn’t seem to hold the answer in a moment longer, he raised both hands in the air. “Yes! I’m going to audition.”

A round of cheers and celebratory jumps and slaps on the back followed. “You can do this, Connor. I know you can do it.” Ricky seemed ready to go into vocal coach mode. “We need to do a little work, but you can do it.”

Connor explained that if he made it past the first few rounds the weekend of auditions, he would be invited to audition in front of the celebrity judges. “But not until mid-December, Dad, and only for a weekend.” His tone was serious, as if he’d thought the timing out along with everything else. “So don’t worry … nothing will get in the way of football.”

The boys were still talking about
American Idol
when the doorbell rang. Jenny left them in the kitchen and headed down the hall to the foyer. She opened the door to find Roberta Johnson, her next-door neighbor. The woman was holding a plate of what looked like brownies. “Roberta!” The laughter in the background was louder than before. “Come in. If we can hear ourselves above the uproar.”

Roberta was pretty, a late-forties leukemia survivor with a strong faith and a keen sense of God’s presence at work in everyday situations. “Don’t apologize for that.” She pointed down the hall toward the sound of their laughter. “Life is too short, Jenny.” She snapped her fingers. “You blink and they’re gone.” That was
true for Roberta’s five kids — all of whom were in college or headed there.

Jenny crossed her arms and felt a sad smile tug at her lips. “You’re right about that.”

“Hmmm.” Roberta frowned, her eyes shaded with a knowing. “Bailey?”

“Yes.” Jenny tried not to think about it … tried to live in her left brain most of the time, where they had much to do before Bailey was ready to move. But in this moment tears gathered in her eyes. “She leaves in two weeks.”

“Oh, honey.” Roberta set the brownies down on the floor and took Jenny’s hands. “You’ll be okay.” She smiled, willing a certain strength with her eyes. “You’ll cry and feel like your world is falling apart. You’ll miss her with every heartbeat.” Roberta nodded. “But you’ll be okay.”

Jenny didn’t see this coming, the visit from Roberta and the emotion it would stir within her. But life was tenuous — Roberta was proof of that. As a cancer survivor, she had no guarantee about tomorrow. But then, none of them did. “She’s … she’s ready.” A sound that was part-laugh, part-cry came from her. “I guess … I’m not sure I am.”

“You never will be.” Roberta squeezed her hands gently, and then released them as she picked up the brownies again. “These are for you.” She peered beyond Jenny to the kitchen. “Rumor is you have a very special visitor tonight … Matt Keagan?”

Jenny tried to imagine how Roberta had learned that Matt Keagan was there for dinner. But she laughed instead. “That was last week. But the kids love your brownies.” Jenny took the tray. “This will be great.”

“So … I missed him?” She grinned like a kid. Then she pulled a copy of
Sports Illustrated
from her purse. Matt was on the cover. “Okay, well the next time he’s here … my son would love an autograph.”

Moments like this didn’t bother Jenny. Especially from a great friend like Roberta. She was generous to a fault, always arranging neighborhood drives for special charities involving soldiers or orphaned children. She volunteered her time at homeless shelters and raised her children to be the same sort of Christians. Jenny took the magazine. “I’m sure he’ll be by again in the next few month. I’ll ask him to sign it.”

“It won’t be a problem?” Worry flashed in Roberta’s eyes. “I really hate to ask, I mean … it’s not like me, but I thought it would just tickle my son.”

“Really.” Jenny put her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “It’s fine. Matt’s great about things like this. In fact, Jim has a few official balls upstairs in the closet. I’ll get Matt to sign one for your next orphanage benefit.”

Roberta gasped. “Oh, Jenny … that would be perfect!”

They talked for another few minutes, and Roberta mentioned her family’s upcoming mission trip to Chimbote, Peru. “You really should come. It’d get your mind off missing Bailey.”

Jenny struggled with the way that sounded, but she nodded anyway. “Yes,” she pictured her family headed off to a Peruvian mission trip without Bailey. The ache in her heart doubled. “That’d be nice. I’ll talk to Jim, for sure.”

Roberta left and Jenny took the brownies and the
Sports Illustrated
back to the kitchen where the boys were finishing up the cleaning. This time they were talking about the smell in the locker room, and whether a small woodland creature had crawled in and died in one of the equipment closets or whether certain sectors of the defense simply needed to stop eating double burritos for lunch.

Laughter rang through the kitchen, just as the boys noticed that she had walked into the room. Connor raised his hand toward the others. “Okay … Mom’s here. Enough.”

A quick look around the room and Jenny saw the giggles and
embarrassment on the boys’ faces. “You heard us, huh, Mom?” Ricky tried to contain his laughter, but it escaped in a happy outburst. “Plus, guys, it doesn’t matter. Mom knows how we are.”

“All too well.” Jenny laughed, and plugged her nose so they’d see she wasn’t too girly to join in the locker room humor. At least not vicariously.

The sight of their mother plugging her nose in the kitchen moments after the story about the defense was enough to put all the boys over the edge. Their laughter grew until they were falling against the kitchen counter or bent over trying to catch their breath. Jenny took in the moment, the way it was so different from the tender-hearted memories of sitting on the front porch swing or sharing a Starbucks that marked her time with Bailey. This was fun too. Boy humor … all of her young men in one place, lighthearted enough to laugh at silly things. Jenny was grateful that she enjoyed these times. Because this was a snapshot of her days ahead.

Her life without Bailey.

B
AILEY WALKED TO THE FRONT PORCH SWING
and sat down, setting it in motion with her feet. She was back on Facebook lately, using it the way she’d used it before — as a way to reach out to her friends, encourage them, and help them draw closer to Jesus. And once in a while to check up on Cody Coleman—just in case maybe he started up his Facebook account again, the one that hadn’t been active since his high school days.

She pulled out her phone and used the Facebook app to check her page. She commented on a few of the posts by distant friends. One was from an Indiana University girl Bailey had met at Campus Crusade meetings last semester. “Bailey,” the girl wrote on her wall, “haven’t seen any pictures of you and Cody lately … what’s happening?”

A frustrated pang of anxiety rippled across her heart as she typed her response. “Not much … how’ve you been?”

She tapped the search line, spelled out Cody’s name, and then hit enter. Immediately a list of names came up — but none of them were her Cody. The swing rocked gently, and the wind settled down some. A quick switch of screens and she called up her text window. She could write a text and in five seconds he could know she was thinking of him. She poised her fingers over the miniature keyboard and began typing. Why not text him? She could tell him hello, right? There was no harm in that. Her fingers moved faster.

Hey, stranger. Thinking of you …

But just as she was about to hit the send button, her mother’s words flashed in her mind.
Next time that boy pursues you, he better do it like a dying man looking for water in a desert.
She stared at the unsent text and the pain in her soul became a legitimate anger. The sort of anger that could fester and root itself into her heart, where she might have it always if she wasn’t careful. She closed her eyes, ordering her emotions under control. As she did, her phone vibrated, signaling a text coming in.

If this was Cody then maybe … maybe God was trying to tell her that he hadn’t moved on. That on nights like this, even after a great day, he still thought about her the way she thought about him. She opened her eyes and raced over the text.

Thinking about you, Bailey girl … not letting NY stop me. Just so you know.

The text was from Brandon, and though a part of her was disappointed, his words lifted her spirits and made her smile. What was she supposed to do with Brandon? He wasn’t leaving, he’d made that clear. His last phone call was a week ago, before he set off for some island location to work on his current movie. “I saw it in your eyes, Bailey. You care for me. If you’d let yourself fall … I think you could love me.”

“Brandon, … you’re crazy. This is all we’d ever have. A phone call every week or so.” She had to be honest. “We prayed about God shutting the door, and He did.”

“Maybe not.” Brandon’s answer was quick. “Maybe this is just a closed window, and now we’re supposed to work on finding the real door.”

He made her laugh, and that phone call was no exception. The truth was, his call had made her head spin, and her heartbeat didn’t feel normal the rest of the night. He hadn’t had cell reception since then — until now, anyway. She typed back her response.

You found a cell tower in the jungle? Or you’re back in LA.

His response came lightning fast:
LA. Missing you.

Bailey allowed a weak laugh to slip. Was God really allowing her life to be this complicated?
What am I supposed to do with him, Lord? Brandon Paul? Really? Should I take him seriously?
She thought about the craziness of his life, the paparazzi, and magazine covers, and twenty-four-seven scrutiny.

Miss you, too … The stars in Bloomington right now remind me of our night on your balcony.

Bailey hesitated, re-read the text, and then in a rush she hit send. It was true … she did miss him. Again, his response was immediate:
Everything reminds me of that night. Can I visit you tomorrow?

Bailey laughed out loud. Was he serious? He would fly to see her just like that? Without a plan or a few weeks’ notice? The answer was an obvious yes. Brandon could afford to be impulsive. She tapped out her reply.
Umm … I’m packing … getting ready to leave.

She stared at their conversation and looked again at his texts. Half a minute later, another message flashed on her screen:
Perfect. I’ll help you pack. I’m good at it.

This time Bailey’s heart danced. What was she doing? She’d show these texts to her mom later. Maybe she’d help shed light on
the situation. The dilemma she felt lately with the guys in her life was a distraction — the way she missed Cody but still felt a growing attraction to Brandon. She needed to go through everything in her room and pack her things, and once she arrived in New York, she needed to finish her semester online and rehearse for the biggest role of her life.