Leaving (8 page)

“You’re Bailey Flanigan?” A girl with long red hair looked her over. “I heard Francesca … you’re in
Unlocked,
right? With Brandon Paul?”

“Yes.” Bailey felt strangely ashamed of the fact. She wanted to tell the dancer her involvement in the movie didn’t give her an edge here. But she wasn’t completely sure.

“Why’d you bother to show up?” The girl tossed her bag over her shoulder. “You’ll get a part for sure.” She turned and left without another word to Bailey.

Heat filled Bailey’s cheeks. It wasn’t true. The part wasn’t hers because of her role in
Unlocked.
She had to work hard at the audition — same as everyone else, right? A part of her wanted to run after the redhead and tell her she was wrong. No one was giving her any favors. But the shame she’d felt a moment ago still lingered and she remained in place.

She leaned against the wall and pulled out her cell phone, realizing something that was only now hitting her. She had a chance. She really had a chance. Not because of her acting resume, but because she’d made it this far on her own merit, her own hard work.
Thank You, God … because of You I left nothing behind. Nothing.
She had no idea if she’d get a part, but she knew this much: She had done her best. No, better than that, she had done the best she could in God’s strength.

Now she could hardly wait to tell her mom.

C
ODY WALKED THROUGH THE LAST SET OF THE SECURITY DOORS
at the Indiana Women’s Prison and spotted his mother at a table by herself. For a moment he hesitated, taking in the sight of her. She was thinner than before, her face more lined — the consequences of the hard life she’d chosen the first time she dabbled in drugs as a teenager. He walked to her, and she spotted him. A smile found its way to her face, and her eyes softened.

She was sober for now, sweet and kind, the mother he’d always wanted. The one she could only bring herself to be when she was behind bars. Cody pulled out the chair opposite her and took her hands in his. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Her hands were cold, her voice shaky. “Thanks, Cody … for coming. Every week I … I wonder.”

“You don’t have to wonder.” Cody wouldn’t stop coming. This was why he’d moved from Bloomington to Indianapolis, after all. “I’ll be here.” He smiled, remembering to be compassionate. “I’ll always be here.”

She smiled, and tears welled in her eyes. “I … I don’t deserve you.”

Cody felt the sting in his own eyes, and he blinked. He wouldn’t spend the next hour caught in a weepy conversation. If this was the single conversation he’d have with his mother for the week, he wanted it to be at least somewhat normal. “Hey … so I love the job at Lyle.”

His mom’s shoulders straightened some. Pride filled her
expression and eased the lines on her forehead. “I always thought you’d make a great teacher.”

“It’s weird.” He released the hold he had on her hands and rocked back in his chair. “The kids are so young. I mean, it feels like a lifetime ago that I was in high school. But still they relate to me.”

“Of course they do.” She beamed at him. “Look at you … so strong and handsome. They probably thought you were a student when you first stepped on campus.”

Cody grinned and stared out the window for a few seconds. His mom was right. His first week that’s exactly what had happened. On the morning of his third day a girl walked up to him in the hallway and asked if he wanted to go to the Tolo dance with her. “It’s girls ask guys.” She batted her eyes at him. “And since you’re new …”

“Sorry.” He took a step back. Flattering as it was to be thought he was still in high school, he wanted to make the chasm between him and the girl students as wide as the Grand Canyon. “I’m Mr. Coleman. The new PE teacher.”

The girl’s face turned redder than Christmas. Her mouth hung open, as if she might say something but no words would come. Then she turned and ran off to catch up with her friends who were laughing ten yards away. Cody chuckled again remembering the scene. “You’re right. They definitely thought I was one of them.”

“That’s why they’ll look up to you. You’re their age.” His mom folded her hands in front of her. “How about the coaching?”

“It’s spring league — just passing drills three days a week after school.” He paused. “There’s this one kid, DeMetri Smith. People call him Smitty.” Cody liked this, talking to his mom about life, as if they were any other mother and son, and this were a normal meeting — and not an hour-long visit at a state prison. “Anyway,
he comes from a broken home, but he’s a Christian. Spends a lot of time praying.”

“Hmmm.” Sadness crept into her tone. “Like you … once you found the Flanigans.”

Cody hesitated. “I guess.” He’d thought about the similarities. It was partly why he wanted to help the kid. In DeMetri, he could see something he saw when he looked in the mirror. The sheer determination to find a path different than the one he’d been raised with. Cody had worked at Lyle High for four weeks. Long enough to understand how things ran — the small town ways and the big-hearted people. But this was the first time he’d shared details with his mom. Again, he was struck by how good it felt, how normal. Usually this hour was about her. Her Bible study. Her remorse.

Her regrets.

“Speaking of the Flanigans,” his mom brought nervous fingers to her cheeks, and finding no comfortable position she lowered her hand back to the table. “Have you … have you talked to Bailey?”

“Mom.” Cody kept his tone in check, but he’d been over this with her before. “We don’t talk about her. I told you that.”

“I wondered, that’s all. She … she was important to you. For a very long time.”

“We’ve moved on.” Every word, every syllable scraped like a knife against his heart. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I guess,” she looked down at her hands, her fingers still restless. For a long while she stayed like that, but then her eyes lifted to his. “I sort of hoped you’d find your way back to her. Have a new start.”

Cody wondered how much heartache a person could take. “You know what, Mom?” For a brief moment, his emotions raced ahead of him. “Why didn’t you think about that before you hooked up with a drug dealer?” He hesitated. “Right? I mean, did
you think about how it might affect me to have some … some psycho drug king making death threats against the girl I love?”

He was breathing hard, his voice louder than he intended. A quick glance around the room told him that he’d caught the attention of other people. He rested his forearms on the table between them and hung his head. Treating her this way would get them nowhere. He looked up. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have raised my voice.”

“It’s okay.” Tears welled in his mother’s eyes. “You’re right. It’s my fault. You and Bailey … I caused all of this.”

“Not all of it.” He sighed. “But please, Mom. Don’t ask me about her. What happened is in the past. It’s over.” This time he kept the anger from his voice, but he could do nothing about the defeat. It crept in and spoke louder than his words. The rest of their visit was tainted by the moment, and Cody couldn’t find his way back to the lightheartedness of earlier in the hour.

When his time was up, he held his mother’s frail hands and prayed with her, asking God to continue to work in her life and to surround her with people who loved the truth. “There are consequences for walking away from You, Lord, from Your Word … consequences for walking in the darkness.” His tone held no judgment toward her. A long time ago he had been the one risking his life for a night of going against God. He had nearly died of alcohol poisoning before the Lord got his attention. A sad sigh slipped from deep in his lungs. “Please, Father, bring healing to my mom, to our relationship. And show us both what the future is supposed to look like. In Jesus’ name, amen.”

He stood and hugged his mom. She held on longer than him, same as always. He didn’t mind. His days as a prisoner of war in Iraq had taught him what life was like in captivity. Of course his mother held on as long as she could. It was a long time between Sundays, when every day was a reminder of all that could’ve been, all that might’ve been.

As he made his way out of the prison, Cody felt like the walls were closing in on him. His mind filled with images of bars and cells and people screaming for a chance at freedom. He blinked, trying to shake the pictures. Not until he was in his truck, the doors shut and locked, did the vision hit him again. This time clearly the scenes in his head weren’t from his mother’s prison.

They were from his own.

Crouched in an Iraqi cell … dust crusted in his hair and fingernails and eyelashes. Dirt choking the breath from his throat, the only sound his raspy breathing and the scratching skittering of rats on the floor outside his cell. What was this feeling, the tightness in his chest? His heart pounded like it was looking for a way out, and he couldn’t get enough air, couldn’t shake the suffocation that had come over him like a wet blanket.

Dear God, why is this happening? Is it the prison? He gripped the steering wheel and let his head fall back against the seat rest. It’s been years since Iraq … so why the flashbacks, Father … why now?

There was no answer, and again the visions came at him, relentless and vivid. The voice of an Iraqi soldier bursting into the room, barking at him, shoving a rifle butt into the cramped cage and shouting at him in Arabic. Despite the cold air in his pickup, sweat beaded on his forehead and trickled down his temples.
Help me, God … take away the pictures in my head. Please …

Again, no response.

Cody forced himself to focus. When this had happened before, the only way out was Scripture. He closed his eyes tight and remembered a Bible verse from Deuteronomy. When you go to war against your enemies and see horses and chariots and armies bigger than yours, do not be afraid of them. The Lord your God who brought you up out of Egypt will be with you.

As the verse took root in his heart, the slightest relief came. For the first time in fifteen minutes the pressure in his chest
eased.
When you go to war against your enemies and see horses and chariots …

Cody said the words again and again, letting the truth of God battle against the horror of his memories. It was true, of course. God had rescued him from the prison in Iraq once already. He would do so again now, and as often as Cody needed His help. That was the point of the Bible verse.

Another five minutes passed before Cody could breathe normally, before he felt ready to tackle the rest of his day. Before he could open his eyes without feeling the walls closing in around him.
Thank You, Father … You care about me. I know You do.

For the first time in a long time, Cody thought about his own father, the one he’d never known. Where was he this Sunday afternoon and did he know that his son was struggling? Did he care? Cody dismissed the thought as quickly as it came. His mother had explained the situation a long time ago. His father wasn’t ready to be a dad. That’s why he hadn’t been a part of Cody’s life. But still, it was normal to wonder, to wish on a day like this that he could drive across town and have a family day with someone other than his mom. Someone not in prison.

He rolled down the window and breathed in deep. The cold air felt good against his face. How crazy to think about his dad after all these years. Nothing good could ever come from such thinking. Not now or ever. He turned the key and waited a minute while the engine warmed up. Then he headed back home. On the way he remembered a message he’d gotten yesterday from Tara Collins. He took his phone from the other seat and at the next light he tapped a few buttons and played her message again.

“Cody, listen here! It’s been too long since you dragged yourself over to my house for dinner.” Cody smiled. Even Tara’s voice was larger than life, the way everything was about her. “I’m cooking up a pot roast tomorrow and I’m setting you a place. So figure it out and take care of all y’all’s chores and tasks and whatnot, and
get your hungry self over here.” She paused, laughter in her voice. “All right then. See you tomorrow.”

Tara Collins. Cody shook his head, missing the woman. She was the closest thing he had to family now that he wasn’t a part of the Flanigans. At the thought of Bailey’s family, Cody felt the sudden urge to turn his truck around, head west to Bloomington, and show up at her house for dinner or for a conversation on the porch. He would tell her that he was sorry about how things had ended and he’d make her understand his reasons for staying away. But his argument sounded weak, even to him. He had no idea how he would defend it to her.

The truth — the real truth — was that by now there had to be little danger posed by his mother’s drug-dealer friend. The guy had been arrested so he had his own troubles to deal with. Cody certainly hadn’t seen any signs of the man.

So maybe he should make the drive. What if his mother was right? Maybe he should find Bailey and tell her he was at fault, that he never should’ve let her go. Cody kept his eyes on the road. No, that was crazy. Bailey deserved someone like her father. Someone whole, with a pristine past.

My son … you are forgiven and whole. I know the plans I have for you … good plans …

The words filled the space around him and inside him, and the impact of them was so great Cody nearly pulled off the road. Cornfields and wide open spaces surrounded the highway under a gray sky and there were almost no other cars on the road. Cody decided not to stop. But even so he had trouble focusing on the drive when God had clearly just spoken to him. The Lord often reminded him of Scriptures and words of wisdom from the godly people in his life. But this? As if God was riding shotgun in his pickup?

Adrenaline worked its way through his body, and he sat up straighter, his heart beating fast again. What had the voice said,
the one that resonated through his being? That he was forgiven and whole, that God had great plans for him. The words were a combination of Bible verses, and they lifted his heart and mood. Maybe not this weekend, but sometime in the next few weeks he would make a trip to Bloomington. He missed Bailey so much he sometimes wondered how he made it through an entire day without her.

Yes, he would take the trip sometime this month, once the snow melted a little more. Maybe he and Bailey could take a walk the way they used to, talk about what the last few months had been like for both of them. Again Cody felt himself relax. He couldn’t be sure what would come of such a visit, but he would take the drive, make the trip to Bloomington. But for now he would have dinner at Tara’s.

He stopped at a grocery store and picked up a gallon of vanilla ice cream, something to go with the hot dessert Tara would inevitably make. It was the least he could do. He arrived at her house just before five o’clock — early enough to help out. As far as he knew he was the only one sharing dinner with her tonight. Usually if she’d invited anyone else she would say so.

Tara met him at the screen door of her neatly manicured brick house before he reached the porch steps. “Cody!” Her voice was almost as big as her smile. She pushed the door open and held both arms out. “I knew you wouldn’t let me have dinner alone again.”

“Whatever you’re cooking, it smells wonderful.” He hugged her and followed her into the house. “What can I do?”

“See that potato peeler?” She pointed to a spot next to the sink. Then she grinned at a bowl of freshly washed potatoes. “Put it to work!”

Cody rolled up his sleeves and crossed the kitchen to the sink.