Learning (30 page)

“You’re crazy.” She beamed at him — glowing from the inside out. The necklace. The question. And now this … Brandon wanted the whole world to know how he felt. That he was in love with her.

She still felt breathless, her heart still pounding as he returned to her and took her gently in his arms again. They hugged for a
long time, until Bailey was glad when he eased back a little. If they were going to do this … be in a serious relationship … they would have to take every step carefully … make every decision slowly.

He kept his arms around her waist, and now he looked into her eyes. “Girlfriend?”

“Yes …” She laughed, but not enough to pull her from the bond between them.

“I have an idea.”

“You’re good at that.” At this point she was willing to go with just about any idea he had. She put her arms loosely around his neck and tilted her head, curious … waiting.

“So … you know our love story?”

“The one we
are
going to film someday …” She loved the feeling of being in his arms.

“Yes … that one.” He looked like he was struggling to concentrate, as caught up in the closeness between them as she was. “Anyway … I think maybe we should practice … you know, just in case they call us in for a cold read or something.”

“Right …” She had a feeling she knew where he was headed with this, and she was glad. “Cold reads can be tricky.”

“Exactly.” He moved closer, brushing his cheek against hers, capturing her, mesmerizing her. He looked straight at her and suddenly there were no words needed. He brought his hands slowly to her face and he kissed her … tenderly and with great restraint, in a way that showed her how much he wanted her, but even more how much he cared.

The kiss didn’t last long, and Brandon didn’t try to kiss her a second time — even though Bailey sort of hoped he would. Instead he stepped back, trembling. “I promise you, Bailey … I’ll respect you. We’ll do this God’s way.”

She wasn’t sure what to say, or how to respond. This was what her parents had prayed for her since she was born — that the guys
in her life might cherish her. And now Brandon was promising just that. She hugged him again. “That means so much.”

Bailey held tight to the way it felt to be kissed by Brandon Paul on the rooftop of her apartment building amidst the prettiest secret garden in all of New York. After they’d said goodbye, and after he left the building to what was no doubt a flurry of photographs and shouts from paparazzi, she knew one thing with absolute certainty.

She was totally and completely in love with Brandon Paul.

T
HE MIRACLE CONTINUED TO PLAY OUT, AND CODY COULD DO
nothing but stand by and humbly credit God for every great thing happening to the Lyle High football team. The changes happening to the small town. After the Arlington win, the Buckaroos played road games against Lawrence Central, Warren Central, and Cathedral and pulled out wins at each.

Tonight they were back at home against John Marshall High — their last Friday night game of the season. A win tonight and Lyle would go from a winless two years to an undefeated run heading into play-offs. Cody was alone in the locker room again, this time at his desk in the office, going over plays. But he couldn’t keep himself from thinking back over the last three months.

His flashbacks to his time in Iraq had all but faded from his waking hours. Only in a dead sleep did he occasionally have nightmares of that time. His counseling hours had dwindled because he simply didn’t need them. On top of that he’d kept up on the visits with his mother, usually every Sunday afternoon. Cody hadn’t brought Cheyenne along yet. Not when his mom still asked about Bailey at least every other visit. She still wanted to blame herself, believing that Cody and Bailey would be together if it weren’t for her. Privately, Cody agreed with her, but her situation wasn’t the only problem. Bailey didn’t need him … he understood that now. At any rate, things had turned out this way, and now there was no going back and rewriting the past.

“I want you to meet Chey one day,” he told her last time they were together. “But you can’t bring up Bailey.”

“I know.” His mother nodded, obviously frustrated with herself. “I’m trying, Cody … but that girl’s in my heart.” She reached for his hands and gave them an understanding squeeze. “I know somewhere … deep inside of you … she’s in your heart too.”

Comments like that meant that bringing Cheyenne was still a long way off. But the rest of their visit had gone better than most, more uplifting and encouraging. Cody brought a makeshift scrapbook with some of the articles that had been written about him and the team. His mother had only limited computer access, so the scrapbook gave her a window to his football season and all that was happening.

Before he left, her eyes teared up. “Cody … I’m so proud of you.” She pulled the scrapbook close and gave a bewildered look, as if there were no words that might sum up how she was feeling. “Look at you, son … you’re famous. Everyone knows about you.”

Not everyone, he reminded her. But he told her then about the
Sports Illustrated
article, and the possibility that they would do a feature story on him after this week’s game. Again she was stunned, happier than he’d seen her since she’d been locked up. “The impact you’re making … I can’t believe it, Cody … even with a mess-up of a mother like me.”

Cody spent their last ten minutes together convincing her that she wasn’t a mess-up, but just a person whose addictions were stronger than her. And like always he encouraged her to keep up with her accountability group. “I love you, Mom.” He stood and hugged her shoulders, letting her lean on him. “Read your Bible and believe what it says. You’re free. Now you need to start living that way.”

The memory of their visit faded and Cody stared at the playbook on his desk. But once again the images and words blurred together and all he could see was Bailey Flanigan’s Facebook
page, the way it looked last night. He and DeMetri had talked long about the game and then the kid had turned in for bed. And like he hadn’t often done in the last few weeks, Cody found his way to Facebook.

She was in a relationship, of course. Same as him. Facebook photos didn’t lie, and now in addition to the photos they’d taken of themselves, the one Bailey had in her album marked “Fun in the City” … there were pictures taken by fans, where Bailey and Brandon were tagged as a couple. Of course, he didn’t need to go to Facebook to see how close the two had become. He could see that at the local Safeway. The two of them had been photographed at the zoo in Central Park, and again heading into her apartment building.

As much as it still hurt to see her with Brandon, he wished he could make a public statement in response to some of the comments people had made about those pictures. People wondering why a good Christian girl would take Brandon into her apartment. Cody released a sad chuckle. Anyone who would question Bailey’s faith and innocence didn’t know her. It was that simple.

Anyway, at least she was happy … as much as it was hard to think about. Still Cody was glad to see the smile on her face, glad she was making an impact in New York City. And she was … Cody had no doubts. Bailey wouldn’t have settled for anything less than making an impact on the people around her. So the fact that she was smiling had to mean her life was going well.

Cody sighed and tried once more to focus on the playbook. Cheyenne had looked over it with him last night, and they both laughed at the way she tried to interpret the X’s and O’s. “Okay,” she finally admitted, “I give up. It looks like a tic-tac-toe game.”

Sweet girl,
Cody told himself.
Wonderful girl.
Cody gathered his thoughts and ordered them safely to the back of his mind. If he was going to help his team take care of business tonight against
John Marshall, he needed to focus. And with an hour before the team arrived, there wasn’t a minute to lose.

The time passed quickly, and in a rush of activity the team arrived and dressed down in their uniforms, taping ankles and adjusting shoulder pads, their voices a chorus of anxious nervous energy and absolute determination that tonight the league title would be theirs to take.

Cody gathered them twenty minutes before kickoff. “You’ve risen to the challenge … you’ve done what we set out to do that first day at spring practice. You’ve played Lyle football His way … God’s way.” Cody didn’t want the season to end. He’d loved these guys, their struggles and foibles and miracles and mishaps. The few who had been drinking had sworn off partying, and Arnie Hurley’s girlfriend found out she wasn’t pregnant, and the two of them broke up when she wouldn’t adapt to the cleaner life Arnie wanted. Yes, Cody’s players had listened and believed him. And along the way they had allowed Cody to lead them in faith through the most unlikely football season of all.

Not an eye in the room wasn’t full of intensity and passion as they came together, their fists raised in the center of their huddle this one last time before the regular season came to an end. “One more time, men … you’re going to go out there and take care of business one more time.” He raised his voice. “Whose way?”

“His way!”

“Whose way?”

“His way!” The sound grew and filled the locker room. “Whose way?”

“His way!” The guys shouted and bellowed their approval, their belief in the common purpose between them.

“Okay, men … league title on three.” He hesitated, feeling the echo of their battle cry deep in his heart and soul. “One … two … three …”

“League title!”

With that Cody and his assistant coaches jogged out to the field behind a stampede of Lyle football players. As he reached the edge of the field, Cody almost stopped mid-step. If he’d thought the place was packed before, it was half empty compared to the people who had flocked to the field tonight. Before he could go another yard, a man jogged up to him and motioned for him to stop.

“Coach … I’m Hans Tesselaar … reporter with
Sports Illustrated.”
He grinned. “I had to see this one for myself.”

“Great,” he shook the man’s hand. Of all the writers at
SI
, Hans wrote the best stories. He had a way of mixing real life with lore and leaving a person deeply moved by the power of competition and the bond of teamwork. “You can follow me over to the bench. Hang out on the sidelines. Then we can talk afterwards, if that’s okay.”

“Perfect.” Hans was younger than Cody expected … in his midforties maybe with a kind smile. Cody had a feeling the guy would be blown away by tonight’s game. Not just his team’s performance, but the presentation that would happen at halftime. Yes, this was the perfect game for the reporter to attend. Now it was a matter of getting down to business and winning it. Cody hurried the rest of the way to his team’s bench, organized his clipboard, and reviewed his plays once more. Then — with the roar of the crowd behind them — John Marshall kicked off.

Cody called in a play for DeMetri, a fake pass that if done right could open the game with a touchdown. He crouched low over his knees, his eyes on the team. “Come on, Smitty … you do this … you got this …”

The snap was good, Arnie reeled back like he was going to throw to one of his wideout receivers, but in a blur of motion DeMetri took the ball and sprinted for daylight. Cody and the rest of the team ran along the sidelines, cheering him on. As the Buckaroos took a seven-zero lead, Cody exchanged a quick grin
with the
Sports Illustrated
reporter. Already he could see the man was swept up in the small-town support and the miracle unfolding beneath the Friday night lights.

John Marshall hadn’t had a losing season in ten years, so it was no surprise when they responded with a touchdown, marching eighty yards and knocking seven minutes off the clock to tie the score. Lyle was up by just three points heading into halftime, but before the team ran for the locker room, they lined up on the field and watched as Larry Sanders met up with his little sister near the jam-packed stands. He hoisted her onto his sturdy shoulders and brought her out to the fifty-yard line.

The athletic director handed him a mic, but before he could say a single word, the applause began. Slowly at first and then louder, with an intensity that brought the entire town to their feet, cheering and hollering and clapping for Larry and his sister and the love of a football team that would give everything they had to save the life of one sick little girl.

In the end, there wasn’t much Larry could say, not much he needed to say. He thanked the businesses and families, the backbone of Lyle … and then he turned to the sidelines and thanked his teammates. Finally he hugged his sister tight, holding onto her for a long time before the two of them left the field together, the girl on his shoulders once again.

Cody caught a glimpse of Chey and Tara in the stands, the two of them hugging the way so many of the fans were. The clapping continued and Cody looked back at the reporter again. He was wiping his eyes, and the sight made Cody know for certain one thing: Hans Tesselaar got the story. Got it with his heart — where the message mattered most.

The reporter joined them in the locker room for Cody’s halftime talk, and though he didn’t ask questions, he scribbled furiously. As Cody drew his men into a huddle once more, and as
they chanted the words that had become familiar, Cody mouthed a message to the man. “You might want to get this.”

Hans nodded and pulled out a small video camera. Cody led the guys one more time through the cry that by now came from deep within their souls. When it was over, the team ran out onto the field and proceeded to tear apart the John Marshall defense. Hurley threw touchdown passes of seven and thirty-eight yards to Larry Sanders, and after he caught the last one he ran by the stands and pointed to his little sister.

Again the crowd erupted into a standing ovation, one that lasted through much of the fourth quarter. At the final whistle the Buckaroos had soundly taken hold of the league title with a forty-five to fourteen thrashing of John Marshall. Like most of their home games, the fans poured onto the field, filling every open spot and clamoring around the football players for a chance to congratulate them, pat them on the back, or wish them the best for their upcoming run through play-offs. But before they could do that, DeMetri yelled for the team to follow him.

Every day after practice last spring, DeMetri had taken the jog to the end zone and prayed by himself, prayed for the coaches and the players and his role on the Lyle team. But here, beneath the lights of their last league game, the entire team took the jog with him. In the end zone they all dropped to one knee, close together so that it was impossible to tell who had their arms around whose shoulders. Cody and the other coaches ran over to join them, and for the next several minutes the guys took turns thanking God … for the season, for the unlikely wins, and for bringing Cody to them. But most of all for the miracle He was giving Larry’s little sister.

“Really, God,” DeMetri finished the prayer, “the miracle was for all of us. We were all sick in one way or another.”

Cody thought about DeMetri’s low point — when his mother
had been put in prison and the kid had been sleeping in the wrestling room at school. He blinked back tears, listening.

“We set out to play football your way, and we did that,” DeMetri continued. “Now we ask that You do one more thing for us … help us never forget this season. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

Hans found Cody and shook his head, his eyes wide. “I didn’t know this still existed. I feel like I’m on a movie set.”

Cody grinned and looked around him, at the celebrating and rejoicing, and even at Cheyenne still grinning ear to ear up in the stands. “Yes … I’ve felt that way all season long.”

They made a plan to talk more the next day. Hans even hoped to fly Cody to New York for a weekend to meet the rest of the
Sports Illustrated
staff. Again Cody could hardly take it in. He agreed, and they parted ways. Cody finished talking with parents and well-wishers from the town, and finally an hour later he and Cheyenne drove back to Indianapolis. DeMetri was staying the night at Joel Butler’s house — where most of the team was meeting to watch
Remember the Titans
and get pumped up for the play-offs.

Cody was glad the team wanted to spend time together. Better than going their separate ways when they had so much to celebrate — and certainly better than partying the win away like so many football players around the country would do after a game like tonight’s.

The ride home was quiet, and Cheyenne admitted to having a headache. “I’m sorry, Cody. I’m so happy for you … really. Maybe I need more sleep.”