Twenty-Five
THE WHIR OF MACHINES WAS REASSURING ONLY BECAUSE IT reminded Cody that Cheyenne was alive. For now, anyway. He sat in a chair beside her bed, and across from him, Tara Collins sat in the other one. They had kept vigil next to her since she’d been brought in — Tara around the clock, since she had sick time she could use from work. As for Cody, other than school and football hours, he was here.
This morning’s practice let out early so he could hurry back, sit by her side. He’d only been here a few minutes when the doctor appeared at the door. He knocked lightly and stepped inside. “Hello.” He had been by a few times, so the man was familiar. He knew that Tara and Cody were the only family Cheyenne had.
“What’s the latest?” Tara was on her feet, her arms crossed. Worry deepened the lines on her forehead as she waited. “Is she coming out of it?”
“Now remember, we don’t want her to wake up just yet.” The doctor seemed nervous, like there was something big he wasn’t ready to tell them. “Her brain is still swollen … so it’s very important that she lays still until we see most of that cleared up.” He talked about the possibilities, the way he had every time he’d stopped by. Cheyenne had a possible brain injury and her spinal cord had been damaged enough that she might have partial paralysis. Beyond that there was the possibility that her lacerated liver might quit working, sending her into immediate shock and perhaps death.
The possibilities.
Cody took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds. As he released it, he looked at Cheyenne. Her face was full, still battered from the effects of the crash. The fact that she was still alive was a miracle — they’d been told that a number of times. But still he believed. “She’s in there,” he turned to the doctor. “She can hear us when we talk to her. I think her brain’s going to be fine.”
“It may be.” He nodded, quick to agree. “We’ll keep monitoring her. I’ve scheduled another CAT scan for mid-afternoon today.”
With that the man moved on. Another ICU patient, another life interrupted just down the hall. Cody watched the man go, grateful this wasn’t his job — working around tragedy every day of the week. If it were, his flashbacks from Iraq would never go away. He turned to Tara. “What do you think?”
She looked at Cheyenne. “Do you hear him, baby girl? He wants to know what I think.” Tara stroked Cheyenne’s thin hand and leaned over the bedrail a bit. “But you already know, don’t you? I think you’re going to hurry up and get better so you can get out of this hospital bed and back to school. Where you belong.”
Cody smiled. Even here in the face of disaster, Tara had a faith that defied logic. God was with them … Cheyenne would be fine.
“Art would want you to fight, Chey. So you keep fighting.” Tara looked pointedly at Cody. “And what do you think, Mr. Cody?”
“I agree.” He nodded and stood, looking down at his friend. “Cheyenne’s going to come out of this, and we’ll cheer her on when she does.”
“Exactly.” She fell quiet for a few minutes, and that’s when Cody knew the truth. Because Tara was never quiet. Her silence now could only mean one thing — that deep down she was worried. Maybe far more than she let on.”
“You have feelings for her, don’t you?” Tara let five minutes pass before she sat back in her chair and directed the question at Cody.
With Tara, there was really only one right way to answer the question. Especially in light of how much she cared for Cheyenne. “Of course.” Cody stared at the beautiful girl in the hospital bed. “She’s one of the kindest girls I know.”
Tara squinted, trying to see to a place in Cody’s soul that had always been off limits. “So what is it … what holds you back?”
“Maybe it’s Art.” Cody sighed, too tired to find a way to turn the conversation back to something safer. “She was in love with him, after all.” He hesitated. “Maybe she still is.”
“That’s horseradish and you know it.” Tara waved a frustrated hand in his direction. “Art’s happier than ever up in heaven with the good Lord. Last thing he’d want is Chey living down here all alone without him.” She crossed her arms again. “Chey’s moved on … I know that.”
Cody remembered that Cheyenne had boxed up Art’s things … so maybe Tara was right. Which meant what? That the holdup was his? He kept his eyes on Cheyenne, so Tara couldn’t see through him, to the real reason why he hadn’t allowed himself to feel more than friendship for her. “It’s complicated, Tara.” He met her eyes briefly. “Life can be very complicated.”
He was about to explain that he’d had a life too, before he met Cheyenne. But before he could say anything there was a sound at the door. Cody turned and in an instant his heart fell to his shoes. He stood, and her name was the slightest whisper on his lips. “Bailey …”
Tara followed his stare, but Cody was barely aware of anyone but the girl standing at the doorway. The girl who still took his breath with a single look. He stood and slowly he walked to her. For a long time they stared at each other, their eyes remembering everything the way it had been between them. Then he hugged her — a quick embrace that felt unnatural. Like their bodies had forgotten there was ever anything between them. “How … how did you find me?”
She held a shoebox in one hand, and with the other she brushed a section of her long hair back from her face. With a quick look at the girl in the bed, she met Cody’s gaze. “I visited your mom today.” She paused, her eyes locked on his, but all he could see there was the concern she must’ve felt for Cheyenne. Beyond that her heart was no longer available to him the way it had been when they first saw each other. “She told me what happened … and where you were.”
They couldn’t have this conversation here. Cody looked back at Tara and found her watching them, one eyebrow raised. He had never explained Bailey to Tara, and now he chided himself for the fact. Either way, he would have to tell her later. For now he needed to talk to Bailey. He motioned for her to follow him into the room, and she did. “Tara, this is Bailey … she’s a … a longtime friend of mine.” Longtime friend … the words felt like glass on his tongue. How had Bailey gone from being the girl of his dreams to a longtime friend? He let the moment pass as he looked back at Bailey. “This is Tara, my buddy Art’s mother.”
The two said hello to each other, and then Tara nodded at the door. “Go ahead, Cody. Go talk. I’ll be here.”
“Okay.” He could’ve hugged her. But instead he nodded. “I won’t be long.”
“Take your time.” Again she raised her brow, but her tone was kind like always. Even so her expression let Cody know without a doubt they’d talk about this later. She smiled, as if she remembered she hadn’t smiled once since Bailey walked in the room. Again she waved them toward the door. “Go … go on. Looks like you two have lots to catch up on.”
Bailey thanked Tara, and Cody led the way out of the room and down the hall. “There’s a private waiting area at the end of the hall.” Cody had sat there a few times since Cheyenne’s accident. When he needed a quiet place to pray so he wouldn’t go crazy with worry for her.
Once they were inside, Cody faced her, his eyes searching hers. “You’re here … I can’t believe you’re here.”
Like before, she refused him her eyes. She looked at the box in her hands, but when she turned to him, she caught his eyes only briefly. “I’m moving to New York.”
“What?” Cody felt the ground beneath him shift, like the carpeted floor was no longer sturdy enough to hold him. “When?”
“Tomorrow.” Guilt was written across her face, and again she looked briefly away. Down at her feet this time. “I won a part in the show Hairspray. I’ll be living and working on Broadway.” Her tone held none of the thrill that must’ve been a tremendous part of her recent days. Like she was merely conveying a dry set of stats to a casual acquaintance. As if she intended only a few minutes’ conversation before she’d be on her way. “We start rehearsals in a few weeks.” She looked at him again, but still with the coolness of a stranger. “Here.” She held up the box. “I brought you this. Things I found when I was packing.”
He took the box and opened it. But after only a few seconds, he knew he couldn’t do this, couldn’t sort through the box and look at things that had once held great meaning for the two of them. Not while she seemed to be pretending they’d never been close at all. He set the shoebox and the lid on the nearby vinyl sofa and turned to her. “Bailey, … look at me.”
She did, but only with the greatest reluctance. “This doesn’t have to take long … it’s okay, Cody.” She narrowed her eyes, refusing to linger anywhere near his. “She needs you.”
Understanding dawned on him. So that was it … Bailey was upset about Cheyenne. “She does.” He hesitated. “But what about you, Bailey?” For the first time since she’d arrived, he let his tone show a little of the hurt he’d felt in the last few weeks. “Did you and Brandon Paul already say your goodbyes?”
An exaggerated exhale sounded on her lips and she crossed her arms. “I don’t want to fight. That’s not why I came.”
“Then why?” He took a step closer and tried to take her hand. But she folded her arms just as he was about to touch her. His hurt and frustration doubled. “Bailey, don’t do this.”
“It’s too late.” She looked uncomfortable, like she didn’t want to draw out this moment more than she absolutely had to.
“You don’t think that. Otherwise you would’ve mailed the box.”
She leaned back against the door and looked away, at an ocean landscape that hung on the sidewall. “I didn’t want to mail it.” Gradually, like ice melting on an April day, the stonewall she’d brought in with her, the one around her heart, began to crumble. “I wanted to see you.”
“Bailey, …” He touched her arm, just the lightest brush of his fingers against her skin. “Come here. Please.”
She held her ground, brought her fingers to her face and hung her head. “I never … I never wanted it to end like this.” Once more her eyes met his, but not long enough for him to read her. “You told me you’d be my friend … that you’d try. But …” She lowered her hand, defeated. For the first time since she’d shown up, tears flooded her eyes. “You haven’t called, Cody … you haven’t tried.”
How could he tell her that he never planned to call? That his mother’s boyfriend was a gun-wielding drug dealer, and back then if she’d shown up somewhere with Cody, they both could’ve been killed. Now she was dating Brandon Paul … he’d seen proof of that himself. The whole situation was a mess. “I told you … our worlds are different.”
“And I told you it didn’t matter.” Her voice rose and she let out a loud breath, clearly trying to compose herself. “All this time, Cody? Really? That’s all I mattered to you?”
Cody hadn’t expected this, couldn’t have seen it coming. “I figured you were busy … the movie and the premiere and Brand—”
“No! Stop it!” This time she didn’t try to quiet her voice. She walked straight up to him, her eyes blazing anger. “I told you, Cody. We stood there outside that prison in the snow and I told you I loved you.” Saying the words again, even repeating them for the sake of the story, seemed to break her. Her anger remained, but now her heartache was obvious. Tears fell onto her cheeks and her voice was softer, pinched with everything she must’ve felt these past four months. “I’ve never said that to anyone but you.”
The realization of what he’d done to her, how his silence had hurt her since January hit him full force. He had intended to let her go, planned on staying away from her for her sake. But he hadn’t told her that. He closed his eyes and hung his head, and for a long while he rubbed the back of his neck. When he lifted his head, she was looking at him, and when their eyes met the walls were gone completely. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?” She wasn’t pretending anymore, but she was still very upset. “You told me you loved me too, so how come … how come I didn’t hear from you?” She spun around and walked to the door and for a few seconds it looked like she might leave without a goodbye. But instead she whipped around and came back to him. “Did you think I wouldn’t miss you?” Her eyes blazed and he couldn’t see where her pain ended and her fury began. “I told God I’d be patient, I’d wait for Him to work in your heart … so you would know you were all I ever needed. But no!” She was crying harder now, and she wiped her cheeks lightly with the back of her hands. “I just …” She threw her hands in the air and let them fall to her sides. “I don’t get it, Cody. I can’t understand.”
He hadn’t said much, and the more she shared her heart the less he had to say. He could remind her again that she had Brandon, but there was no point now. The damage was done … they’d both moved on to some extent. He came to her, touched her arm once more, and this time his fingers found hers. “I still love you, Bailey … I do.” He took hold of her hand and for this one last time she let him.
“Don’t play with my heart.” She whispered the words, and her eyes looked deep into his, past this moment to that long ago place where they had first connected. “Never mind about Brandon … you know how I feel, Cody. Please.” She tightened her fingers around his.
“You’re right.” His words were quiet, like flags of surrender. “I thought you were better off without me and … maybe I was wrong.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her, couldn’t help but wonder what might’ve happened if it hadn’t been for the drug dealer’s threats or his mom’s latest arrest. Or if he wouldn’t have cared about all that.
Bailey groaned and wiped her eyes again. She seemed to have found at least some of her composure. She withdrew her hand and crossed her arms. “This meeting … it wasn’t supposed to go like this.” She waved her hand toward the waiting room door. “I didn’t know about … about Cheyenne. Not until I talked to your mom.”
She didn’t ask, but Cody felt the need to clear things up where Cheyenne was concerned. “We’re friends, Bailey … nothing more.”
For a long few seconds, she only looked at him. Right at him. Then she looked off again and shrugged one shoulder, a sad sort of shrug. “You’re here aren’t you?”
“Bailey …”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t be. That’s fine.” Sincerity rang in her tone, because she cared about the tragedy at hand. Bailey was nothing if not deeply caring. “I’m very … very sorry about the accident.”
He couldn’t think of anything to say, anything that would make the strain between them lessen. But there was a question he needed to ask … just so he’d know where her heart was. “You and Brandon … is that … is it serious?”
For a few seconds she said nothing, just looked up at him, the way only she could do. “Not yet.” She was only inches from him, but she looked closed off again. “It could be, I guess. We’re … we’re talking.” She nodded to the door again. “And Cheyenne … you have to be here for her.”
He could do nothing but agree on that point. “I am.” Never mind that Cheyenne might never wake up, or if she did she might never be the same. That wasn’t the point.
“Anyway … I need to go. I have to get back home.”
Panic welled inside him. She couldn’t leave yet … she’d just gotten here. And now things felt worse between them — like they were dating other people and maybe this might be the last time they saw each other. Even if none of that was true, it felt that way. “What about the box … can I look at it … do you have a minute?”
“I don’t.” She was already pulling away. She glanced a few times at the door. “I have to go, Cody.”
He felt more defeated than at any time in his life. “Can I ask you something?” She waited, and he took her silence as a yes. “How did you think this was going to go? You coming here?”
The hurt in her eyes was so great he felt it as a physical blow. “I didn’t know about Cheyenne.”
“But you have Brandon …” Again, he didn’t want to argue with her, but the truth remained. “So tell me, Bailey …” he kept his tone kind, his voice softer than before. He reached for her hands and like before she didn’t pull away. “Tell me. How did you picture it?”
Seconds passed and he could almost read her eyes. But not like before. “I don’t know.” Her anger was gone, and in its place a resignation. Their time was coming to a close. The only thing left to say was goodbye.
He took a chance, mainly because he didn’t have more than a minute or so. Without asking her or doubting himself or the wisdom in whether he should leave her this way, he drew her slowly to himself. “Please, Bailey … let me hold you.” He whispered the words against her face, her hair.
And this last time she came to him. She eased her arms around his waist and he wrapped his around her shoulders. Whatever ways she had wanted to keep her distance during this visit, she was no longer able. It was the only redeeming aspect of her visit so far. “No matter how things look …” he breathed against her hair, his words quiet, straight from his heart to hers. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know … how much it mattered to you.”
“How much you mattered.” She pressed her head against his chest, the way she’d done the last time they were together in January. “I won’t forget you …”
Cody wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but neither of them said anything. What could they say? There were no promises to make, no pronouncements of friendship or future visits. She was moving to New York. Their time for friendship had passed. But here … in a brightly lit hospital waiting room, Cody held onto her as long as she would stay in his arms.
She must’ve felt the same way, because minutes passed and still she held him. When she finally pulled back, her eyes were the same ones he’d loved since she was a senior in high school. “Goodbye, Cody.” Her voice was barely loud enough to hear. She smiled, ignoring the new tears in her eyes. “You know how to reach me.”
He wanted to kiss her, wanted to put his hands alongside her face and show her how much he still cared — how much he would always care. But she deserved better than a rushed kiss in her hour of goodbye. Instead he slowly stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers. “Knock ‘em dead on Broadway, Bailey. I know you will.”
“Thanks.” Her smile was as familiar as his own heartbeat.
“By the way … you were amazing in Unlocked.”
“You saw it?” She had one hand on the door already.
He hesitated, hoping she could see in his face everything he couldn’t say. “Of course I saw it. I loved it.”
“Well … thanks.” Her smile died. “I’ve got to go.”
“Bailey, … please.” He wasn’t sure what he wanted her to do. Clearly she had to go, but the idea of watching her walk away now was more than he could bear.
“Goodbye, Cody.” She came to him in a rush then, and hugged him one last time. As she did, her body trembled against his, the emotions too much for them. This time when she pulled back, she said nothing. Just looked straight at him for a long moment, and then opened the door and walked out.
Cody stared at the place where she’d just stood. Maybe he should run after her … tell her how wrong he’d been. They could make things work, no matter what his past held, because what did it matter, anyway? No one would ever love her the way he did. But he couldn’t bring himself to make a move.
Not here. Not in this season of their lives. She was grown up — leaving Indiana, heading off to New York where she needed to make her way in life. Down the road, he would find her again … look her up and see if Brandon was still in the picture or if by some miracle of God she still loved a football player she’d watched grow up … a guy who had come back from the war for her alone.
Cody smiled, despite the aching emptiness in his heart. Whether she knew it or not, Bailey had left him with more than whatever was in the shoebox. She’d left him this: In their final minute together she had held back nothing. Her eyes had told him everything he had only guessed at since January. The look was something he would hold onto forever, a memory that would never dim. Because no matter what she thought about Brandon, or how much time had passed, or how hurt she was about
Cheyenne, the truth was clear in her eyes. As clear as the water in Lake Monroe. Her eyes told him that she hadn’t only loved him back then. She loved him now.
The way she just might love him forever.