Part 14 (1/2)

Cody preferred to think about Bailey, about finding a way to connect with her again. He didn't want the task of facing off with the radical kid in his cla.s.s, but someone had to do it. He hadn't gone to Iraq and lost his leg so that he could take a backseat when his country's freedom was being discussed. ”I was one of those guys who enlisted in the army after high school.”

A hush fell over the cla.s.s. Across the room, Peter slowly took his seat, one eyebrow raised suspiciously in Cody's direction. The professor nodded. ”Go on, Cody.”

”I enlisted because I believe in the United States of America, in her freedoms for all people, and in her strength as a nation of peace, prosperity, and human dignity.” His voice took on a strength that built as he continued. ”I enlisted because I was then, and I am now, willing to risk my life to defend this nation. Because this country will fall into enemy hands if our generation is not willing to take a stand.”

”Rhetoric,” Peter mumbled under his breath.

”No.” Cody's voice sharpened. He stood and took a step toward his fellow cla.s.smate. ”Not rhetoric. The battle for freedom is real, one that requires people to act on what's right.”

”War in Iraq?” The kid didn't seem as sure of himself as before. ”That's what you think is right?”

”No war is right, but sometimes ...” Cody s.h.i.+fted to take some of the pressure off his prosthetic leg. ”Sometimes war is necessary. In order to defend the privileges and freedoms we have as Americans.”

He paused, not sure if he should go on. Finally he decided he'd said enough, but even as he lowered himself to his seat, a few guys at the far end of the cla.s.sroom stood and began to clap. A girl and another guy joined them, and then most of the front two rows. Ten seconds pa.s.sed while one student after another rose to their feet and joined in the applause. Finally only Cody and Peter and the professor remained seated.

The outpouring was more than Cody had imagined, and it touched him deeply. Even so, by the time the cla.s.s was over, Cody felt exhausted, drained from the emotional battle of defending himself and his decision to serve. He was finished with his cla.s.ses for the day, and he needed fresh air to clear his head. Snow still clung to the ground in patches, but the gra.s.s showed through along the campus mall. He took the long way around, purposefully walking past the football stadium and the practice field. A group of guys dressed in sweats were throwing the ball, working with a couple of coaches near the fifty yardline.

Cody stopped and watched.

Wasn't it just yesterday that he'd been the guy throwing the ball? Before Iraq, before he lost his leg? Back then he and Bailey had been more like brother and sister, and he'd known for sure he'd play football at the college level somewhere. But the offers didn't come the way Cody had imagined, and with his home life a mess, enlisting seemed like the best option. It still seemed that way.

While he was in Iraq his existence had centered around surviving one day to the next. But now that he was home ... his ideas about the future had s.h.i.+fted with every quarter. He'd thought about being a doctor, and then maybe a firefighter or a paramedic - if they'd take him with his prosthetic lower leg. He even considered going into law so he could help defend freedom in a different way.

But standing here facing the football field, he felt a certain familiarity, one that had filled him and consumed him more often lately. He wanted to be a football coach. Like Jim Flanigan, he wanted to spend his days around the game he loved, influencing kids so that a generation of young men would grow up understanding sacrifice, hard work, and dedication. The sorts of things that came through in the game of football.

Yes, that's what he wanted to do. He would teach high school history and coach football, and he would pray to be an influence for generations of kids like himself. Kids drawn to drinking and partying, kids with little or no family influence who would be lost without the coaches and role models in their lives.

His vision blurred and he could almost see himself working with the quarterbacks and receivers, teaching them how to look for the open man and throw a ball downfield.

Teaching them about life.

He kept walking and as he turned away from the football field, another image came to mind. The face of Bailey Flanigan. She had to be part of this future too. But she was still dating Tim, still barely returning his text messages, and rarely answering his calls. She had a wall up around her heart, and he didn't know how to tear it down. If he could convince her to trust him again, then he could figure out her relations.h.i.+p with Tim, whether she was really in love with him. A thought that terrified him.

He kept his eyes down as he walked the path to the parking lot and found his car. He needed time away from campus, away from his constant search for Bailey between cla.s.ses. He had a new job at the grocery store in Clear Creek, bagging food and helping people out to their cars. It paid more than the last one and helped him keep up his end of the rent. But today he had four hours before his s.h.i.+ft, so he took the turn to Lake Monroe.

The leaves were just starting to bud out on the trees that lined the two-lane highway. Spring wanted a chance, if only the cold temperatures would let up. He reached the water and parked in his favorite lot, the one near the footpath that circled the lake. For five minutes he walked hard and fast over the trail, ignoring the pain in his leg, until he reached an outcropping of rock, a place where he'd come before to think and talk to G.o.d. He walked out onto it and sat down on a smooth, flat area. A breeze blew across the water and stung at his eyes, but he didn't care.

G.o.d, I have so many questions. So many unknowns about tomorrow. He squinted against the wind and lifted his eyes to the clear blue beyond the lake. Your Word says You have great plans for me, to give me a future and hope and not to harm me. But how do I know which way to turn?

My son, do not be troubled ... Do not be afraid ...

The words whispered to him in the rustling of tree branches on either side of the rocky point. As if G.o.d were indeed here with him, holding him up and encouraging him.

Sometimes he wanted a new start, a new university a thousand miles away from Bailey and his life in Bloomington. A place where people wouldn't know him as the GI who came home without his lower left leg. Where he wouldn't have to look for Bailey every time he walked out of cla.s.s. But then, he'd only miss her more.

She belongs to someone else, G.o.d. Why can't I get her out of my head?

Wait on me, my son. Remember the fruits of the Spirit.

Cody closed his eyes and the words came back to him, words Jenny Flanigan had drilled into the minds of her kids, including him when he lived with them. Love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, gentleness, thoughtfulness, and self control.”If you truly seek G.o.d's plans for your life,” she would tell them every day or so, ”then your life will show fruit.” And she'd go into the list again. Love, joy, peace ...

Patience was one of the fruits, but Cody was tired of being patient. He had a few friends, guys he'd played football with at Clear Creek High, but most of the old team was into heavy partying now. He'd rather stay home and study. But today - today he wanted the friends.h.i.+p of Bailey and her family so intensely he could feel the ache with every breath.

Show me, G.o.d. I want to be her friend. I can't lose her now.

Again the fruits of the spirit flashed in his mind. Love and joy, peace and patience, goodness and kindness ... Maybe that was it. If he was going to show those fruits to the world, then he needed to stop avoiding the Flanigans. He'd turned his back on the family as surely as he'd turned his back on Bailey. Regret surrounded him. Ricky's tests had shown he didn't need another open heart surgery. Not yet. But he might someday soon. How could Cody justify staying away when tomorrow wasn't guaranteed to any of them?

He stood and breathed in deeply. G.o.d was here with him; Cody could feel His presence. And at least now he had a plan. Bailey could be busy with Tim, but that didn't mean he had to stay away from her family.

They were his family, too, and they always would be.

He walked with determination back to his car and made just one stop on the way out to the Flanigans' - his mother's house. He parked out front and stood on the porch, knocking, waiting.

”Mom?” The door was unlocked, and when she didn't answer it he went inside. ”You home?” He heard something in the back bedroom, but she still didn't answer. ”Mom?”

He'd made a point of spending more time with her - especially since Christmas. Their trip to see Scrooge had been sort of a new beginning, but every time he came to see her he had his doubts that maybe she was using drugs again. She was an addict, same as him. That meant the temptation would always be there.

He walked past the kitchen and there on the counter was something that stopped him cold.

A small mirror, and in the stream of light from the window he could see the hint of white dust on it. He didn't want to think so, but the mirror had the distinct look of something someone had used for cocaine. He grabbed hold of it and glanced around the counter for a razor blade - which would pretty much guarantee his suspicions. But there was nothing. He carried the mirror toward the bedroom. ”Mom?”

”Yes!” She sounded too cheerful. ”I'm in here.”

He followed her voice into the bedroom and found her bustling about, making her bed and straightening her pillows. ”Sorry.” She stopped and put her hands on her hips, breathing deeply. ”I didn't hear you. Today's cleaning day.”

The last thing he wanted was to ask about the mirror, but he had to. She needed to know that he was watching, checking her behavior. He held it out to her. ”I found this on the counter.”

She hesitated for half a second. ”Oh, that. It goes in my bathroom. I set my perfumes on it.” She took it from him. ”I was going to spray it with Windex, and I got distracted.”

He released it to her and studied her for another half a minute. ”I never noticed it before.”

”I've had it forever.” She hustled the mirror into her bathroom and came back empty handed, brus.h.i.+ng her palms against her jeans. ”So much to do. The place was a mess.”

Cody wanted to believe her. A mirror, in and of itself, was not proof that his mother was doing cocaine or any other drug. But he had reason to wonder. Every other time she'd been released from prison she went back to using. He had prayed this time would be different, and so far he believed it was. But she needed the strength of Christ, same as he did. ”You going to church with me this weekend?”

”Of course.” She laughed easily. ”Church and Sunday school.” She'd found one for recovering addicts, and combined with her midweek drug cla.s.ses, she seemed more grounded than before.

But still Cody worried. ”Okay, then.” He came to her and kissed her cheek. ”I was just driving by. Thought I'd check on you.”

”I'm fine, silly, but thanks for stopping.” She didn't mention the drugs. Neither of them liked talking about the possibility. ”My neighbor Linda invited me for dinner, so I have to get my cleaning done before then. She's a widow, you know. The two of us keep each other company.”

Cody hung around another few minutes before leaving. His mother's quick actions and rattling conversation worried him, but he hoped she was telling the truth.

As he left he checked the clock on his dashboard. He still had more than two hours before his work s.h.i.+ft, and only one place he really wanted to go.

He pulled into the Flanigans' driveway ten minutes later, parked his car in the familiar place, and walked the length of the covered porch to the front door. Jim met him and the two hugged. ”I've stayed away too long,” Cody said as he stepped inside.