Leaving (25 page)

T
HE 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.”