Sunrise (3 page)

“Bailey . . . get up. Come on!” The voice was Connor’s.

“Please . . .” She groaned and turned over. “Let me sleep.”

She had stayed up late Thanksgiving night, going over audition songs with Connor and texting Tim Reed. It was three in the morning when she’d turned off the lights and finally fallen asleep.

The door opened and Connor leaned in. “Bryan Smythe’s here. I’m serious, Bailey. You have to see this.”

Bryan Smythe? Bailey sat up. It took only a few seconds before her body responded. She jumped out of bed and ran into her bathroom. “What in the world?” She looked over her shoulder at her brother. “Why?”

Connor grinned. “You need to see for yourself.”

“Ugh. I can’t go down looking like this.” She ran her fingers through her hair and splashed cold water on her face. The mirror told her she still looked half asleep. There were pillow creases across her right cheek.

“It doesn’t matter.” Connor’s tone was almost frantic. “He’s waiting. Come on.”

After Connor left, Bailey darted into her closet, water still dripping from her face. She pulled off the T-shirt and flannel leggings she’d been sleeping in and slipped into a sweatshirt and the first pair of jeans she could find. Ever since she and Tanner Williams broke up, her social life had been one extreme or the other. Meanwhile, Tanner had been seeing a senior girl with a reputation for sleeping with her boyfriends. Bailey and Tanner rarely looked at each other when they passed in the halls, and many weeks Bailey could come home from school five days straight without so much as a single call or text from any guy.

On those days, Cody Coleman, the senior football player who lived with them, would pat her on the shoulder and smile at her as if she were a child. “Don’t worry, Bailey. They’ll be lined up one day.”

Her attraction to Cody had cooled a lot since he moved in with them. He dated a different girl every few weeks, and he treated Bailey like she was thirteen instead of sixteen. Sometimes she couldn’t wait for next year, when he’d leave for college and they could be finished with him.

Bailey pulled her hair back in a ponytail and hurried out her bedroom door. The text messages from Tim the day before ran through her head.
Do you ever think about the future, Bailey? . . . How things might wind up?
She had kept her answers short. Tim Reed was rarely in such a pensive mood, and she wanted to know what he was thinking. A few texts later he wrote,
Let’s go to the park tomorrow. You and I need to catch up
.

What was this with Bryan? She rounded the corner and headed down the hallway. Sure, he’d acted interested a few months ago. But he’d been out of the picture for a while. Rumors around CKT had him seeing someone at his high school. So why was he here this morning?

She made it to the entryway, and there, standing just inside the front door, was Bryan. He held an enormous bouquet of roses—red and yellow and white. A small note card was tucked in near the middle.

Bailey gasped softly and looked from the flowers to Bryan. “What . . . what’s going on?”

He shrugged. “I finally had a morning to myself.” He took a step toward her and held out the bouquet. As he handed it to her, he grinned. “I might not call every day, Bailey, but I’m thinking about you.” Bryan hesitated; then he moved back toward the door. “I wanted you to know.”

She wasn’t sure what to do next. “For no reason?” She lifted the flowers close and smelled them. “You brought me roses for no reason?”

His eyes answered her question before he did. In them she could see confidence and determination directed entirely at her. “You’re reason enough.” He gave her one last smile and raised his hand. “Bye. See you around.”

Then, before she could hug him or thank him or get any more information than that, he turned and jogged down her walkway.

Bailey went to the door, stepped outside, and raised her voice so he could hear her. “Thanks. They’re beautiful.”

He waved and flashed a grin that said he enjoyed this—being mysterious and unexpected and beyond romantic. He was in his car and back down their driveway before she could catch her breath.

What was he up to? And why this morning? She pulled the card from the bouquet and opened it.

White because I will always treasure your innocence, yellow because we were friends before anything else . . . and red for all that I hope lies ahead.

Always,

Bryan

Chills passed down Bailey’s neck and spine. “Okay, Bryan,” she whispered as she smelled the flowers again. “Could you be any more amazing?”

She was heading back inside, still trying to make sense of it, when from the far left side of the house she heard her mother scream.

“Mom?” Bailey set the flowers down and raced toward the sound. She heard her father and the boys running behind her.

They arrived at the guest room door at the same time, and Bailey covered her mouth. Her mother was kneeling on the floor, her eyes wide and scared. “Call 911. Hurry. He’s barely breathing.”

Connor jumped into action, racing past their mom and grabbing the phone.

Her dad rushed into the room and knelt near her mother. “Does he have a pulse?”

“Barely.”

Her dad looked like he was going to cry. He moved in closer. “How could he?”

“Pray, Jim.” Tears spilled onto her mother’s face. She looked at the rest of them. “Pray!”

“Is he . . . ?” Bailey couldn’t finish her sentence. She stayed frozen near the doorway.

Cody Coleman was sprawled on his back, his face and arms gray. The entire room was filled with a pungent smell. That’s when Bailey spotted it. Only then did she have a clue what had happened. Lying next to Cody was a bottle of liquor—hard liquor.

The bottle lay on its side, and from what Bailey could see, it was no longer full.

It was completely empty.

Jenny Flanigan stood at the window in the fourth-floor waiting room at Bloomington Hospital and stared at the rainy sidewalk below. Jim was in with Cody, watching his vital signs, praying for the kid to wake up. Bailey was on her way back from the cafeteria with coffee and hot chocolate, and Jenny was trying to understand what had happened. Why it had happened. And how they could’ve possibly missed the fact that Cody was still drinking even though he’d left his mother’s home in search of a safe place, a place where he wouldn’t even be tempted to drink.

The doctor had told them the score earlier today. If Cody had been brought to the hospital an hour later, he would’ve died. The alcohol in his body was enough to kill him. When a person passes out, the doctor had explained, alcohol stops metabolizing in the body, stops dissipating from the person’s system. Even so, alcohol in the stomach continues to be released into the bloodstream. By pumping Cody’s stomach, they’d stopped this process in time to save his life. But it might not have been soon enough.

Jenny gripped the windowsill. The scene was like some sort of macabre joke. Cody was in a coma. Every day that Dayne Matthews fought for life in his coma in LA, Jenny had prayed for him and imagined what it would be like to hold vigil near the bed of a loved one, not knowing when or if he’d ever wake up.

And now here they were.

There was a noise behind her, and she turned around.

Bailey walked in and set the drinks down on the closest table. “Any change?” Worry shaded her eyes, her expression.

“Nothing. Dad’s still with him.”

Bailey sat in the nearest chair and folded her hands. She stared at her feet and let out a shaky breath. “Why would Cody do it, Mom? I don’t get it.”

This was the hard part. She and Jim believed in being invested in the lives of kids—not just their children but others whom God brought along. That was the reason they’d adopted three boys from Haiti, and certainly it was why they’d welcomed Cody into their house. The situation with Cody reminded her that there was a price to pay for helping people. Bailey’s fear and anger, her deep worry, were some of the costs.

But there were lessons, too.

Jenny sat next to her daughter. She put her hand on Bailey’s knee. “We told you about Cody.”

“I know, but he’s been with us long enough.” She leaned back and looked at the ceiling. “You told him he couldn’t drink one time, not once.” A single tear slid down her cheek. She cast angry eyes at Jenny. “So he brings it into our house and drinks a whole bottle? I mean, who does that?”

The question hung in the air for a moment. Then, her hand still on Bailey’s knee, Jenny told her daughter the truth. “Alcoholics.” She slipped her arm around Bailey’s shoulders. “When a person drinks like that, there’s no other answer.”

Bailey straightened her back, and for a few seconds her eyes glazed over and she stared at the opposite wall. Her teeth started chattering. Not loudly but enough that Jenny could see her daughter’s fear growing. “So . . .” She swallowed. “So Cody’s an alcoholic?”

“Yes.” There was no downplaying the fact. Not anymore. “We always thought he was, but after this we know.”

Bailey leaned her head against Jenny’s shoulder. “My health teacher said that once a person’s an alcoholic, they’re an alcoholic forever.”

“That’s true.” Jenny rubbed her daughter’s arm, doing her best to ward off her chill. “Cody needs a lot of help.”

“That’s why you didn’t want me liking him?”

“It’s a big commitment, honey, falling in love with someone who has a drinking problem, someone who’s an alcoholic.” Jenny tried to be careful with her opinions. “People can get help, and they can change, but with an alcoholic it takes time to know how serious they are.”

“About not drinking?”

“Exactly.” Jenny released her gentle hold on Bailey and took her coffee from the table. “Want yours?”

“Thanks.”

She handed Bailey her hot chocolate.

A few minutes passed while they sipped their drinks in silence. Jenny cherished quiet, comfortable moments like these with Bailey. Even here, in the midst of praying for Cody and struggling with his alcohol overdose.

Bailey lowered her cup to her knees. “Was he trying to kill himself?”

“No. I don’t think so.” Jenny felt the sadness of the situation deeper than she’d felt it all morning. “Remember when we went around the table during Thanksgiving dinner? Everyone talked about what they were thankful for.”

“Hmmm.” Again Bailey’s eyes grew dim. Her voice filled with fondness at the memory. “Cody was thankful for our family and his future. And most of all for second chances.”

“He wasn’t suicidal. Cody Coleman’s an open book. In the years we’ve known him, he’s always worn his emotions for Dad and me to see. When he’s down, he tells us. And when he’s desperate, he cries.” She sighed. “Thanksgiving? He was happier than I’ve seen him in a long time.”

Bailey released a long breath. “Stupid parties.”

“Yes.”

After Thanksgiving dinner, the Flanigans had gone to the Baxters’ for dessert. Cody was invited, but he declined. “I don’t care about meeting some movie star.” He’d chuckled, his voice full of teasing. “Especially when Katy Hart’s making such a big mistake.” He puffed out his chest. “I’m the guy she should be marrying.”

“Is that right?” Jim had given him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “I’ll tell Dayne you said so.”

For a moment, alarm showed on Cody’s face. “Uh, yeah . . . don’t do that.” He allowed a nervous laugh. “I’m just kidding.”

So instead of going to the Baxters’, Cody had gone out with his friends to celebrate Clear Creek High’s third-place finish in regionals the week before. “We’ll probably make a bonfire and talk about how much turkey we ate.”

As he left the house that night, Bailey had muttered under her breath, “He’ll probably find some girl to make out with, he means.”

“Bailey . . .” Jenny was constantly warning her daughter about being judgmental. “Give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“I am.” She had frowned as they climbed into their van and headed off to the Baxters’. “I definitely doubt him. No question.”

Now Jenny wondered if they might’ve avoided all this if they had doubted Cody a little more. Parties were almost never a good idea for Cody. Not as long as they’d known him.

Jenny took another sip of her coffee. “Has anyone texted you about what happened?”

“Heather.” Bailey took her cell phone from the back pocket of her jeans and flipped it open. “She said Cody was making out with Grace most of the night.” Bailey rolled her eyes. “Which I predicted, by the way.”

“And drinking?”

“Heather didn’t know.” Bailey leaned on the arm of the chair. “But it’s always the same at those parties. People show up and start drinking; then they hook up with someone, and half the people finish out the night throwing up in the bathroom or in the bushes. The next day everyone’s talking about who did what with who and how much this person drank over that person and whether anyone was smoking weed or hookahs.” She shook her head. “Stupid parties.”

“They’re still smoking hookahs?”

“Oh yeah. Everyone’s into it.”

Jenny wasn’t really surprised. Every generation had their form of rebellion, and Bailey’s was no different. Hookahs—water-filled pipes used to smoke flavored tobacco—were often passed around at parties.

“You know what I hate?” Bailey took the lid off her hot chocolate and smelled it.

A lot,
Jenny wanted to say. Bailey was very opinionated on the decisions her classmates made, which was a good thing. Jenny didn’t worry for a minute that Bailey wanted to go to one of the parties her friends attended, let alone drink or smoke. But sometimes Bailey’s attitude bordered on a critical spirit. She studied her daughter, the tension in her posture and the way her brow was knit. “What do you hate?”

“I hate when everyone blames drinking.” She tossed one hand in the air and let it fall back to her lap. “Like getting drunk is some sort of license to do whatever you want.”

“Kids your age drink so they’ll have a reason for what they do.”

“Exactly. It makes me so mad.” Bailey’s voice grew thick, and there was no hiding the way she was suddenly fighting tears. “These are my friends, Mom. Three years ago the worst thing anyone did was cheat on a test. Now everyone’s changed. I have maybe a handful of friends who haven’t slept with their boyfriends or gotten drunk at a party.” She hung her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. After a long time she looked up again. “At least I have CKT.”

Jenny thought about her husband and how earlier this football season he’d been tempted to move the family across the country for an NFL coaching position. He had coached for years and retired to give the kids stability. But he was getting the itch again. One of the reasons he’d agreed to stay another year was because of the Christian Kids Theater group. A drama club like theirs was available in only a handful of states. If they moved, Bailey and Connor would lose their friends and a place where they could explore theater in an environment that made faith and family priorities.

She had prayed several times since then that they might stay in Bloomington, Indiana, another five years—so Connor could finish high school with the benefit of CKT in his life. Jim wanted that too. But coaching at Clear Creek High was no longer the challenge it had been at first.

Jenny had agreed that if Jim felt God leading them away from Bloomington, she would leave without looking back. For now, though, she could only agree with Bailey. Her daughter’s involvement in CKT was often the rainbow across an otherwise stormy sky. The kids weren’t perfect. Gossip and criticism sometimes reared their heads among the group. But a Christian theater program simply didn’t attract kids who partied or lived on the wild side.

“You think Katy will keep doing CKT? Even after she’s married?” Bailey finished her hot chocolate and tossed her empty cup in the trash.

“It depends.” Jenny met Bailey’s eyes. “Marriage changes things. I guess we’ll have to see.”

She was about to ask Bailey how Cody had been acting around her the week before Thanksgiving when Jim returned.

He looked five years older than he had that morning. The fine lines around his eyes were deeper, his face haggard and drawn. He shook his head. “Nothing’s changed.”

Being a coach’s wife always had its highs and lows. But being married to a high school coach meant emotional drama Jenny had never experienced before. During Jim’s first year coaching football at Clear Creek High, a third-string running back had locked his bedroom door and shot himself with his father’s gun. The kid was a loner, a guy most of the players didn’t know well. Even so, his death stunned the school and left the team reeling. Counselors were brought in to talk to the players, but most of the burden of helping kids through the trial fell on Jim and the other coaches.

For a month afterwards, Jenny would catch Jim staring into space. “What’re you thinking?” she’d ask.

His answer was always the same. “How come I didn’t see it? Why wasn’t there a sign?” Once he had confided in her that maybe if he’d let the boy start a game or two, he might still be alive.

Now Jim leaned against the doorframe. “You can go in.” He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and flipped it open. “A few of the players texted me. They’re coming down to the hospital to talk.”

“Who?” Bailey looked like she was holding her breath, her eyes glued to Jim.

“Tanner Williams, Jack Spencer, Todd Carson. The captains.”

“Other than Cody.” Jenny stood and went to her husband. She put her arm around his waist and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. This is so hard.”

Bailey got up slowly and looked at the floor. When she lifted her eyes, Jenny saw the mixed emotions there. Ever since she broke up with Tanner, she’d had hours of regretting her decision. He had been a good boy while he was dating Bailey, but recently Jenny had heard rumors that Tanner had joined the ranks of partying players. Because of that, Bailey was angry with him.

“Don’t tell Tanner I’m here, okay?” She leaned up and kissed Jim on the cheek. “I don’t want to see him.”

“You think he’s been drinking?” Resignation filled Jim’s tone.

“I do.” Bailey bit her lip. “Maybe that’s why he wants to talk.”

Jenny had to agree, but she said nothing.

“Whatever’s going on, we need to get rid of it.” Jim raked his fingers through his hair and hugged both of them. “Go see Cody. He needs people praying around him.”

Bailey nodded and then moved into the hall.

Jenny let a long sigh fall across her lips. “Have the doctors said anything?”

“They’re not sure. He needs to come out of the coma.”

“Weren’t we just saying that about Dayne?” Jenny kissed her husband. “When will the guys be here?”

“Any minute.”

“We’ll stay away until they’re gone.” Jenny gave him a sad smile. The guys wouldn’t open up if she and Bailey were in the waiting room. And the drama between Bailey and Tanner would definitely bring a halt to any meaningful talk.

Jenny went to Cody’s room. As she stepped inside, she felt her heart breaking. Bailey was standing at the far side of Cody’s bed, gripping the bed rails. Her head was bowed, and she was quietly sobbing, her shoulders shaking. She looked up and found Jenny. “I don’t understand—” her voice was choked by tears—“why he won’t wake up.”