“You need to do more than think about it.” Jim seemed to realize he was being harsh. He relaxed his expression. “You better pray God gives us both a plan. Otherwise we can’t have you here, Cody. I won’t have you drinking around my kids.”
Tears filled the boy’s eyes. “I understand.”
Jim gritted his teeth, obviously struggling over Cody’s request. Finally his shoulders fell a little. “Fine. We’ll talk Wednesday. Until then you can catch up on your homework until you’re ready to go back to school. I want you in bed by ten o’clock each night.”
“Yes, sir.” Cody’s brows were raised, his eyes nervous. “I’ll do the dishes.”
“That’s a good idea.”
Jenny watched Cody collect the remaining plates and silverware from the table.
When Cody was gone, Jim gave her a defeated look. “Was I too hard on him?”
“No.” Jenny reached across the table and held Jim’s hand. “Maybe we can pray with him before he goes to sleep.”
“Okay.”
“Hey.” Jenny felt for her husband. “Don’t be hard on yourself. I think he learned something over this.”
“We’ll see.”
Jenny hoped Cody really had learned something, and she’d prayed about it that night when they put their hands on Cody’s shoulders and lifted their voices to the Lord as well as over the next two days when Jenny and Jim wondered whether Cody truly understood the seriousness of what he’d done. In some ways, their hands were tied. Cody wasn’t their son, so they couldn’t deal with him the way they would if he were one of their own kids.
For instance, Cody had a clunker four-door sedan and a cell phone, things his mother had given him before she was arrested. Cody worked Saturdays at the local batting cage and made enough money to cover his expenses. But his car and cell phone gave him the freedom to get into trouble. If he were a Flanigan son, Jenny was sure they would’ve grounded him from both.
But in this situation they would have to rely on reason and divine intervention.
“Pray for me that I’ll have the right words . . . the right attitude,” Jim had told Jenny. “I can be too gruff with the guys. I know that. I’m just so mad about this—my whole team drinking.”
Jenny understood. Cody was a leader on the team, and his bad example over the years had contributed at least somewhat to the decision by the other captains to drink at the Thanksgiving party. Jim had kept his feelings to himself since Sunday, but they were apparently brewing deep inside him. Waiting until today to have the talk was a good decision.
On Wednesday evening, Cody sought Jenny and Jim out before dinner. “After we eat, let’s talk, okay?”
The meal was quiet, the way their dinners had been since Cody was home. When it was over, Bailey took the boys into the family room. She gave Jenny a look that said she’d be praying for the best. She had admitted she was worried about Cody, worried he would disconnect with their family and fall into a hole too dark and deep to ever climb out of.
They moved into the living room, and Cody sat at the far side of the sofa. Jenny took the chair by the fireplace, and Jim sat next to the piano in the chair closest to Cody.
Cody ran his tongue over his lower lip and anchored his elbows on his kneecaps. He looked scared to death. “First—” he swallowed hard—“I want to say I’m sorry. What I did was . . . totally wrong, and I . . . I want you to know that—” His voice cracked, and he hung his head low between his shoulders. After a few seconds, he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. He didn’t look up. “I’m . . . I’m sorry.”
Jenny felt tears in her own eyes. She wanted to go to him, sit beside him, and put her arm around him. But she would follow Jim’s lead. Cody was his player, and the two shared a special bond. When it was time for hugs, Jim wouldn’t hesitate.
After an agonizing minute, Cody finally dragged the back of his hand across his cheeks and lifted his head. Futility defined his expression. “Drinking . . . it’s all I’ve ever known.”
Jim’s eyes softened some. “But it has to stop. You must see that.”
“Of course.” Anger flashed in his eyes and left a trail of hurt. “My mother mixed drinks for me and my friends when I was twelve. Twelve years old.”
A pit formed in Jenny’s stomach. If only they could’ve rescued Cody sooner, called social services and had Cody removed from his house. “Was your mom using drugs back then?”
“Definitely.” Cody waved his hand. “She had a drawer full of needles, bags of powder. She tried to hide them, but I knew where they were.” He folded his arms. “I knew she was stealing, too. Sometimes she did it right in front of me.”
“That wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right.” Jenny wished the woman were here now to see what her selfishness and sickness had led to for her son. “You should’ve stayed when you came the first time.”
“I know.” Cody stared at his knees. He had been a freshman the first time he spent three weeks with them. He and his mother lived in an apartment a few blocks away, and it was nothing for Cody to walk over. Back then, same as now, Jim had been the father figure Cody never had.
“So let’s talk about the party. . . . What happened?” Jim leaned back in his chair. He crossed his ankle over the other knee and waited.
“Karl’s parents were out of town. He had basketball practice, so he stayed home alone.” Cody shrugged, but the gesture held no defiance. He wrung his hands and tried to meet Jim’s eyes. “Karl asked the team and a bunch of girls over, told us there’d be lots to drink.”
Jenny glanced at her husband. This was what he’d feared, what his three captains had confirmed in the hospital waiting room. Jenny wasn’t sure how the rest of the school year would unfold, but Jim had a plan. Something about the retired police officer who volunteered as security at the Clear Creek games. Either Jim’s players would stop drinking or they wouldn’t be on the team. She was sure about that much.
“Let’s get a few things straight.” Jim narrowed his eyes. “You’re an alcoholic. You told me that months ago, remember?” He pointed to an empty chair. “You sat right there and told me you’d blacked out again, drunk so much you nearly died. You said you needed another chance to live here and that you would never, ever touch a drink again. Remember that?”
Cody seemed to shrink a size. “Yes, sir.”
“Still think you’re an alcoholic?”
The boy didn’t hesitate. “Yes, sir.”
“So one of the guys asks you over and says there’ll be lots to drink, and what should you have done?”
“Gone to the Baxters’ with you.”
“Exactly.” Jim looked restless, as though he was ready to get up and start pacing. “Not only that, but you should’ve told me about Karl.” He jabbed his finger in Cody’s direction. “You know how I feel about drinking. And if someone had been killed that night, one of your teammates or someone they might’ve run into, you would’ve lived the rest of your days knowing you could’ve done something to prevent it.”
Jenny felt sorrow in her throat. Jim—more than many people—understood drinking and the cost it demanded from a person. His own story of loss was one that he wanted to share with Cody soon. It was painful for Jim to tell, but Jenny had a feeling that Cody would be changed by it.
She agreed with Jim, but it was tough for any teenager to come clean about the wrongdoings of a teammate, let alone a teenager with Cody’s upbringing. She slid to the edge of her seat. “Did you consider that? telling us the truth?”
Shame shrouded Cody’s face. “Not really.” He turned to Jim. “The guys have been drinking since the season ended.”
“And you?”
“No, sir. Not until Thanksgiving.”
“Okay.” Jim ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. “So we’ve got a couple problems. Big problems.” He straightened. “I’ll deal with the team, one way or another. I’m not coaching at Clear Creek just for the wins. But you, Cody. You’re my biggest problem of all.” Emotion crept i
nto his tone. “Do you know how serious things were on Friday?”
Cody stared at the plush carpet between his feet. His regret and sorrow, his humiliation and fear were plain. Jenny had seen Cody sorry before. But nothing like this. When Cody lifted his eyes, he looked more frightened than ever before. “I almost died.”
“If they’d pumped your stomach an hour later, you wouldn’t be here.” Jim stood and sat next to Cody on the sofa. “You need help. There’s no other option.”
Cody’s chin quivered. He nodded, but he was clearly too emotional to speak.
“Jenny and I found an alcohol intervention program through church.”
“I want that.” He faced Jim. Then he pulled his cell phone from his jeans pocket. “I went and had my number changed.” He handed it to Jim. “Check the names.”
The surprise on Jim’s face matched that in Jenny’s heart. The idea of Cody making changes on his own was the best news so far, further proof that he was serious.
Jim flipped the phone open and clicked some buttons. After a few seconds, he glanced at Cody. “It’s a short list.”
“Just you and the youth pastor at church and the number to the prison where my mom is. The others are kids who don’t drink ever.”
Jim handed the phone back. “Brandon Reeves, the kicker?” He sounded doubtful. “He’s pretty social.”
“Never, Coach. The guy’s as clean as they come.” Cody took the phone. “Him and JJ Warrick. Everyone knows where they stand.”
Jenny clasped her hands. “So have them over, Cody. We have a hot tub and a pool table. Guys like that are the ones you need as friends.”
He raised his phone. “That’s why I kept their numbers.”
“Let me tell you what we know about the alcohol program.” Jim folded his hands. Jenny knew that he’d done the research on Monday, and he’d been waiting since then to share it with Cody. The program took place in the evening. For the first two months, participants were required to come four days a week. The meetings lasted an hour, and afterwards there were thirty-minute private sessions with one of the volunteer counselors—all professionals from the community who gave up a night each week to work with the program.
“Everything they teach and everything they walk you through is all done in Christ’s strength.” Jim seemed to search Cody’s eyes. “There’s no other way to stand against this enemy.”
Again Cody looked smaller than usual. Not the bigger-than-life football player everyone knew him as. Even so, his tone was steady. “I know that, Coach.”
“After the two months, they recommend attending a meeting twice a week. And that’s forever, Cody. Alcoholism never goes away. It lies in wait, looking for the moment when you think you’ve got it beat.”
When Jim finished talking, Cody gripped his knees. He drew a sharp breath. “When can I start?”
“Tomorrow night.” Jim pursed his lips. “If you’re ready.”
“I am.” Cody’s gaze shifted and he hesitated. After several seconds he looked at Jim again. “I have some bad news, Coach.”
Jenny felt her heart skip a beat. Bad news with Cody could be just about anything. Had he gotten one of the girls at school pregnant or done something terrible between the party and coming home on Thanksgiving night? Jenny held her breath.
“You wanna talk about it?” Jim didn’t look fazed. With all that he’d found out about his team in the past week, whatever else Cody wanted to say was probably not going to shock him.
Cody pressed his knuckles against his forehead. He released a shaky sigh, and when he looked up, he found Jenny’s eyes this time. “I checked with the counselor at school. My grades are horrible. Worse than I thought.”
Jenny exhaled. Having bad grades was a problem they could work through. “What’s your grade point average?”
“Just under a 1.5.” He squinted. “The lady was straight with me. I have a couple fails and Ds. She said I had no chance at a scholarship.”
“What about summer school?” The disappointment shone in Jim’s eyes.
Jenny felt it too. Jim had hoped Cody might get a scholarship to a Division II school. He’d talked to a few college coaches who were friends of his, and they’d promised to consider Cody. He was a strong enough football player that if he had even average grades, he could get a full ride somewhere.
But not with that GPA.
“Actually, Coach, I made a decision.” Cody straightened his back. This time he didn’t waver a bit. “At the end of the school year, I’m enlisting in the army. I’ll leave for boot camp in late August.”
The army. Jenny wanted to beg God for Cody’s protection before another minute passed. But she wanted to show her support too. The army would be good for Cody as long as he stayed away from drinking.
Memories rushed at her of the times when TV networks had run specials about the terrorist attacks on New York City.
Every time, Cody would get up and leave the room. “I can’t watch it.” He’d shake his head. “That’s my country they’re hitting. No one does that to the USA.”
Some kids were born patriotic, and Cody Coleman was one of them.
“I’m proud of you.” Jenny stood and went to him.
Cody rose and so did Jim. “I’m proud too. I think it’s a good decision.” Jim patted his back.
There wasn’t a lot to say. Cody had already made up his mind. He had a semester of school and one summer left, and then he’d be a soldier. In the meantime, Jenny and Jim and their kids were the only family Cody would have. It wasn’t time to debate the decisions that had led to this moment.
It was time for a hug.
Tears trickled down Bailey’s face, and she stepped back from her hiding spot. She’d wondered what was taking so long, what her parents and Cody could possibly be talking about. And as she left the boys watching ESPN in the family room and tiptoed down the hall, she wondered about the hushed tones, the serious voices.
Her parents were going to give Cody a choice: either he could enroll in a program for people with a drinking problem and stay with their family, or he could move out and find a solution on his own. Bailey hadn’t talked to Cody privately since he came out of the hospital, but she knew him well enough to know what he would do. He’d take the program, clear and simple.
So why all the talking?
She’d reached the end of the hallway and stood next to the open door of the guest bathroom. She felt a little wrong about listening in, but once she caught part of the conversation, she couldn’t pull away, and now she knew.
Cody was joining the army.
She brushed her knuckle beneath her eyes and sniffed. Three boys from Clear Creek High—guys who had been seniors when Bailey was a freshman—had enlisted after graduation.
One of them lost his leg when he stepped on a land mine. He’d been home for nearly a year now, taking classes at Indiana University. When Bailey and her family saw him at the market once, Bailey had looked away. She didn’t know if he’d recognize her, but if he did, she wasn’t sure what she would say. He’d run track and done 4-H and mowed his dad’s fields every summer. The idea that he didn’t have his left leg was unthinkable.
And now the same could happen to Cody. Or worse.
Bailey shuddered and turned from her hiding place. As she did, her phone vibrated in her pocket. A text message. Bailey waited until she was in the kitchen; then she leaned against the counter and opened her phone. The message was from Bryan Smythe—the fourth day in a row that he’d texted her.
She’d prayed about Bryan a few times in the past week. When they talked, she told him she didn’t want a boyfriend. Because it was true and because she wanted to test him. If he knew she wasn’t interested, then maybe he wouldn’t keep contacting her.
But her preference didn’t seem to change Bryan’s mind. In fact, every time she mentioned her intentions to stay single, he practically agreed. “We’re too young for serious relationships,” he’d told her yesterday when they talked. “If we put God first, He’l
l make everything else fall in place.” She could hear the smile in his voice. “Besides, I’ll be here waiting, whenever you’re ready.”
Talk like that was enough to make her lie awake thinking about Bryan, the way she had last night. Because maybe he was the real deal—the realest one of all. If he was willing to wait as long as it took until she would agree to be his girlfriend, then he wasn’t like any of the other boys she knew. Except maybe Tim Reed. But Tim never acted interested in her for longer than a few days at a time. Before she fell asleep last night, she’d felt like God was telling her that she needed to spend more time with Bryan before she could make up her mind.
She clicked OK and read the message. Hey, beautiful . . . I’m out driving around trying to think how I can get through the night without seeing you. Think you could help?
Bailey sniffed and wiped at what remained of her tears. She felt a smile tug at her lips. Her fingers flew across the keypad, and her return message took shape. You might just be beyond help. She hit Send and took a glass out of the cupboard. She filled it with water, took a sip, and felt the familiar vibration of her phone.
She opened it again. How ’bout we meet at the end of your driveway in five minutes? I won’t stay long. Just long enough to see the stars in your eyes.
Bailey felt a rush of adrenaline. Meet Bryan now? In the cold dark night, when lights-out was just around the corner? Her parents would never go for such a thing. But then . . . they were caught up in the conversation with Cody. And Bryan only wanted to see her for a minute.
She reread the message. Just long enough to see the stars in your eyes. Her heart pounded hard against her chest.
She had to say yes. It wouldn’t take long. She’d be back inside before her parents knew she was gone. Besides, she wouldn’t even leave the property. Their driveway was long enough that she could meet Bryan without anyone hearing his car, then get back inside without her parents knowing it. She could tell her mom later, the way she always did with things that involved her friends.
The thrill of the secret meeting was too much to risk her parents saying no. Bailey opened her phone and tapped in her answer. I’ll be waiting. Then she slipped on her coat and her shoes and went to the opposite side of the house.
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