Longing (5 page)

“Right.” Cody nodded. New York City in January. He narrowed his eyes, squinting against the glare of the setting sun. “I’m honored. Tell your friend thanks. And tell him I’ll be in touch.”

He talked to Hans for the next few minutes, filling him in on the team’s preparations leading up to the championship game and sharing the news about DeMetri’s decision to attend Liberty University and become a pastor.

Hans shook his head. “Like a movie script … seriously.”

Cody blinked and in the fraction of an instant when his eyes were closed he was suddenly not on the plush artificial turf of Memorial Stadium. He was back at Clear Creek High, suited up to play quarterback against Bloomington, and Bailey … Bailey was in the stands cheering him on. The moment passed and a chuckle worked its way from Cody’s heart. “Yeah, like a movie. Almost.” He scanned the stands. If the Flanigans were coming, they would be here soon. Jim Flanigan would never be late to this game.

Instead he saw Tara and Cheyenne making their way up the home bleachers. They didn’t see him, and Cody didn’t have time to make a trek over to talk to them. He’d see them later, when the team took the field for warm-ups.

Hans thanked him for his time and pointed to a spot near the end of the bench. “I’ve got a quick appointment with Lance Egbers.” He nodded at Cody. “Good luck tonight, Coach.”

“Thank you.” Cody was about to head back to the locker room when he spotted them: the Flanigan family entering the stadium halfway up the structure. Again he was back at Clear Creek High, back when he could always sense her arrival at any game. He froze and watched them file in. Jim and Jenny, the boys trailing behind them. And beside Connor near the end of the line … yes, it was her.

Bailey had come.

Cody shaded his eyes, watching them make their way along the cement aisle, searching for seats in the Lyle section. Cody let his eyes settle on Bailey. The other Flanigans, the faces in the crowd, every sound … all of it faded. There was only Bailey, the way there hadn’t been for too long.

Even from here he could see she was more beautiful than ever, her long layered brown hair and the graceful way she walked alongside Connor. She stopped, and he could tell she was searching the sidelines, looking for him. And just like that, it happened. She froze and their eyes found each other. The look on her face had a way of erasing the distance between them, even from twenty yards, way up in the bleachers.

“Cody!” The voice was familiar, but it took Cody a few seconds to pull himself from Bailey’s gaze, to look away when all he wanted was to freeze time, run up the stadium stairs, and take her in his arms.

“Cody … over here!” The voice was Tara’s. Cody blinked and turned toward the sound. And there she was with Cheyenne at the edge of the railing, only a few feet above the sidelines. Tara waved, a grin stretching across her face, her big sunglasses still in place. “Can you believe this?” She couldn’t keep the enthusiasm from her voice.

But Cody could hardly focus on Tara. He was too busy noticing the direction of Cheyenne’s gaze. She wasn’t looking at him the way Tara was. She was looking at whatever had held Cody’s attention for the last few seconds. In the exact direction of Bailey Flanigan.

Cody glanced that way once more, but Bailey was already seated, talking to Connor, and caught up in whatever conversation her family was sharing. There was no way to tell if Bailey had seen Cheyenne and Tara. But one thing was certain: Cheyenne had seen Bailey. He quickly headed toward the spot where Tara and Cheyenne still waited. “You’re here early!”

“Of course.” Tara took the lead. She was dressed in Lyle blue, and she carried a cardboard sign painted with the words
Lyle Buckaroos All the Way.
She waved the sign in his direction. “Whooo-wooo! Biggest game ever!”

Cody smiled, but his eyes found Cheyenne. Her expression told him everything he needed to know. She wasn’t angry or upset, not jealous or insecure. But he had no doubt she’d seen the exchange between Bailey and him, and now her soft smile held a knowing, a walls-up sort of understanding. As if she understood how Bailey might’ve captured his attention, and in some sad sort of way she expected it.

Cody felt uncomfortable. Cheyenne deserved to be first place in his heart. The place he thought he’d reserved for her. “How’s the team?” Tara still seemed oblivious to the silent exchange happening between him and Cheyenne.

“Good.” He shouted his answer, so she could hear him. Then he gritted his teeth. He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t make casual conversation. Not now. “Gotta get back to the guys.” He smiled, waved big at both of them, turned, and jogged back to the locker room without checking the stands again to see Bailey, to satisfy his curiosity about whether she was watching him again or not.

He didn’t need to look. He already knew she would watch him tonight, same as he would be keenly aware of her position in the stands, her presence behind him. He would be focused on the game, for sure. But he felt certain about how the next few hours would play out. No matter what else consumed his heart and mind, one thing was certain. And it continued to trouble him deeply as he rounded up the guys and brought them out onto the field for warm-ups.

Regardless of Cheyenne’s presence, as long as Bailey was here, a part of him would be only hers.

Always hers.

B
RANDON HADN’T HEARD FROM
B
AILEY ALL DAY, BUT THEN
he’d been busy—his phone off most of the afternoon. His meetings that day had blended together, one into the other. A handful of producers and directors all linked to the biggest studio in the country, meeting around an impressive table in a boardroom where some of the biggest movie deals in history had gone down.

His manager and his agent sat on either side of him.

Since ten that morning a dozen projects had been laid out, any one of which would advance his career in the direction everyone saw him headed — a move from teen heartthrob to serious actor. Already Brandon had agreed to a couple pictures, films that would be shot in Los Angeles and wouldn’t take more than eight weeks a piece. But the movie he was looking for still hadn’t crossed the table: “What about a love story?”

The team surrounding him nodded thoughtfully, and his agent turned slightly to face him. “There’s a love story element in just about every one of these pictures.”

“I know.” Brandon pictured Bailey. “I mean a love story. Something people will remember forever.”

“This is about your
Unlocked
co-star, right?” His agent sounded slightly irritated.

“Her name’s Bailey.” Brandon sat back in his chair, calm in the face of whatever resistance came from the people around him. “And, yes, I want to do another picture with her. I think the fans want that too.”

“Listen, Brandon …” His manager leaned onto his forearms and folded his hands. “We all like Bailey Flanigan. But she’s a little … I don’t know, a little wholesome, to be honest. Some of these projects,” he waved his thumb toward the pile of scripts, “they demand an actress with a little more of an edge.”

“An edge?” Brandon shifted in his seat. “Maybe I don’t want edgy.”

“That’s why we’re having this meeting.” One of the studio execs cleared his throat. “We’re trying to make decisions that are best for your career, Brandon.”

“Not what’s best for your relationship with Bailey.” His agent muttered.

“Listen. We have a few girls coming in to meet with us …” His manager swapped looks with the producers at the end of the table. “Just to see your thoughts … initial chemistry … that sort of thing.”

“Why isn’t Bailey one of them?”

“We already know Bailey …” His agent used that irritated tone, the one that bordered on patronizing. “We’re looking for fresh talent, someone a little racier.”

Anger blew hot against Brandon’s understanding. He nodded slowly and then pushed his chair back from the table. “I’m taking five. We can talk after the break.”

Out in the hall he turned a corner and found a quiet stairwell where he could sit and think. Too wholesome? Wasn’t that what people wanted these days? Films that gave people a message of hope and faith? A renewed purpose in life? Then how come the people around him thought he should do edgier projects with edgier actresses? He reached into the back pocket of his jeans, pulled out his cell phone, and found Bailey in his favorites. A single tap and her phone began to ring.

Answer, Bailey … please, answer.

“Hello?” She was there … but the noise in the background was so great, her voice was barely audible.

“Bailey?” He checked the time on his phone. Nearly four o’clock. Almost kickoff in Bloomington, Indiana, where Bailey was at the game. He covered one ear, and tried to make himself heard above the commotion. “Hey, can you hear me?”

The noise grew louder. “Brandon?” She shouted his name, but clearly she couldn’t hear him. She was trying to say something about the game when the call failed. Something that he knew happened often in this part of the building.

Brandon thought about trying again, but why? The noise was too much and the cell reception too sketchy. They’d have to talk later, when the game was over. He hung his head for a moment.

What do You want me to do, God? Why can’t Bailey be in one of my films? I want to be with her … not some other actress.

The answer came readily to his heart:

I know the plans I have for you, my son. Plans to give you a hope and a future …

The verse was from Jeremiah 29:11, one of Bailey’s favorites. He exhaled slowly. God would lead him. As long as he didn’t compromise his faith by taking the wrong role; if this wasn’t the time for Bailey and him to star in a picture together, then maybe later. He stood and moved easily back down the stairs and into the hallway.

All he wanted was to finish the meeting and the dinner with his manager and agent after that and get home before eight o’clock. If there was time he wanted to Skype with Bailey. So he could look in her eyes and be absolutely sure that no matter how the evening at her old boyfriend’s game had gone, everything was still okay between them.

The way he was sure it would be.

He couldn’t see a day ahead without her. She had worked her way into the fiber of his being, and he would fight to hold onto
her, to never let her go. Forever wouldn’t be long enough to love her, Brandon was convinced. The idea of that stayed with him as he finished his meetings and headed to dinner with his team. Lately when it came to Bailey he didn’t wonder so much about the answers, but about the question, no matter how far off.

One question.

T
HE FIRST TWO QUARTERS OF THE CHAMPIONSHIP GAME
flew by, and after a blur of the most intense football they’d played all year, Lyle ran off the field at halftime down twelve points, 18 – 6. Cody trailed his players, not sure what had happened, what had gone wrong.

Yes, Coach Egbers’ Whitinsville Christian team was strong at every position. But his guys seemed like they were going through the motions — as if they were happy just to be here. Nothing about their offense even remotely reminded Cody of the team he’d coached all year. Whether it was the roar of the enormous crowd or the reality of playing in Memorial Stadium, Cody wasn’t sure. But if something didn’t change at halftime, the outcome was easy to predict.

Not only that, but the physicality of their opponent had taken its toll. Larry Sanders limped on a sprained ankle, and Josh Corothers was out with a knee injury. Cody knew they could do this; they could rally their efforts and talents and come out with a winning second half. But he wasn’t sure whether his guys actually believed that.

Around them the crowd was on its feet cheering as they ran off the field, and even before the noise died down, as soon as they rounded the corner into the locker room, DeMetri jumped onto the nearest bench and glared at his teammates. “No!” he shouted at them. “No, we did not come this far to hang our heads and let that team get the best of us!” He wasn’t angry, just intense. Blazing
from a fire that burned deep within him. “Come on, guys, get in here. Get close.”

Cody watched his players respond. They were sweaty and exhausted, still breathless from the action in the first half. But the fire in DeMetri was contagious. Cody could see it in their faces.

“Come on … we’re gonna cry out to Jesus, y’all. You understand? Cry out to Him … because I will not go out my last game a loser. I wanna hold my head high and know I gave everything … everything for this team and for Coach and for God who brought us together.”

In all his days as a player and coach, past and future, Cody knew he would always remember this moment, the passionate confidence of a player who only six months ago had been sleeping in the school weight room, without a home or a family, without a hope. The changes God had brought about in DeMetri were proof of His existence all by themselves.

“All right.” DeMetri’s voice still filled the locker room, a fierce cry louder than the packed stadium on the other side of the brick wall. “Let’s pray. Because that’s when we’re strongest … when we’re laid bare before Him, no hope but the hope we have in Him.”

The others nodded, pressing in closer, closing their eyes and hanging their heads. A few of them raised their hands, the way they might do during a church service. Cody felt a chill run down his arms.

God, they’re getting it … they know how badly they need You.

He held his breath, watching … waiting.

Meet us here, Father … please meet us.

“Lord, we are nothing without You. All season we’ve relied on You. Every touchdown, every tackle, every play by every man here. You’ve brought us together and given us a strength beyond ourselves.” DeMetri’s voice held a cry, and sure enough two trails of tears made their way down his cheeks. “We haven’t given everything out there, God … we’ve been playing in our own
strength … like maybe we think we’re all that.” He sniffed and kept his words steady, strong. “But we’re nothing without You, God. Go with us onto that field in the second half. Every man here including myself … Lord, we cry out to You. Not that we would win the game, but that we’d play beyond what we’ve played so far. Because after this, we’re done. This Lyle team will only be a memory. That’s the point, God … that we would be remembered not for what we did, but for what You did through us.” He was breathless, nearly overcome. “In Jesus’ name, amen.”

A resounding
amen
followed, and for the remainder of halftime the guys were quiet. They tightened wraps on their ankles or sat quietly, stretching their legs, heads bowed. For all the ways they’d come together over the season, Cody had never seen them like this, so focused and intent on the task ahead. He had a feeling God would indeed meet them on the field in the minutes to come and that the result would be something the people of Lyle would remember for a very long time.

Before halftime was over, the team came together one last time for the battle cry that was now as familiar as their uniforms.

“Whose way?” Again DeMetri led them, and Cody held onto the moment, convinced that someday — not too far from now — DeMetri wouldn’t only become a pastor. He would become one of the best.

“His way!” The chorus of their voices was deafening, louder than any time they’d done this in the past.

“Whose way?” It was a fierce shout of determination, an insistence that the guys believe in the mission ahead.

“His way!” A few more times back and forth and the frenzy was in full force. When they ran back out on the field Cody wondered if the fans would even recognize them. Sure enough Lyle had the ball in the opening drive of the third quarter and after seven solid plays, quarterback Arnie Hurley connected with his
best friend, Joel Butler, for a touchdown that brought the Buckaroos within five.

In the back of his mind, Cody was aware that Bailey and Cheyenne were there, but all he could think about was the matter at hand: stopping the Crusaders. “I need you to dig down, guys,” he yelled at his defensive unit, struggling to be heard over the sound of the crowd. “Remember DeMetri’s prayer. Don’t hold back. Give Him your best.”

The guys responded at a level Cody hadn’t seen before, and with seven minutes left in the half, Whitinsville remained scoreless in the second half. Lyle had the ball again, but they were struggling to advance when Larry Sanders found Cody. “I can do this, Coach. If my sister can battle cancer, I can play on a sprained ankle. I mean it.” Fierce tears cast a watery layer over his eyes. He blinked, his jaw set. “I can do this.”

Cody nodded and slapped Larry on the shoulder pads. “All right then … go get ‘em.”

The marching band played the Lyle fight song and the entire town sang along as Cody watched Larry take the field. The first few passes his direction fell flat, but on third and ten he ran for the end zone and looked back just long enough to catch the best pass Cody had ever seen his quarterback throw—and, like that, Lyle had a two-point lead.

But, with four minutes left in the game, Whitinsville marched down the field, chewing up half the remaining time before kicking a forty-three-yard field goal. Down by one, the Buckaroos had a final chance. One drive to play out of their minds and find the most unexpected ending to the most unexpected season.

As his team took the field, Cody felt a quiet even at the center of the screaming crowd. They didn’t need a win tonight to prove what God had done among them, to put an exclamation mark at the end of the miracle the Lyle football team had been a part of. But, even so, Cody believed in one as he stood with his toes
against the sidelines calling in the plays and willing the guys to do the undoable one more time.

A few yards forward, a few back, a breakaway run and another set of downs, and suddenly there were nine seconds left and Lyle was against the wall. Fourth and two on the Whitinsville forty-five. Too far out for a field goal. Cody didn’t have to look at the huddle, didn’t have to catch the eyes of DeMetri Smith to know who was getting the ball. The kid had led the team from the beginning. Cody could remember his first day at Lyle, walking out of the gym and certain he wouldn’t consider taking the job. It had been DeMetri praying in the far end zone of the Buckaroos practice field, one knee in the snow, that had changed his mind. DeMetri who had jogged past him and casually explained that if he were the new coach, the prayers had been for him.

Sweep right to DeMetri. He called the play in to Arnie and settled back on his heels. The play took shape in slow motion, the sound of the crowd, the chaos of media and marching bands quieted completely until there was only the sound of his heartbeat and the ticking of the clock. Seven … six … five …

DeMetri took the handoff and darted between two defenders.

Instead of sweeping right he spotted the slightest sliver of daylight and ran for it as if his life depended on it. And just like that he pierced the defense straight up the middle and in the most unexpected ending possible, with four seconds on the clock, DeMetri had nothing ahead of him but open stadium grass. The Lyle bench was on its feet, the screams of the crowd once more thunderous around him.

“Run, Smitty!” Cody ran along the sideline with half the players, all cheering and shouting and doing their best to keep up with DeMetri. But on this night he was faster than anyone in Memorial Stadium. Faster than Coach Egbers’ award-winning defense, faster than any of his teammates, faster than he’d ever run in all his life. Several strides before he crossed the finish line, the clock
ran out, and as the referee signaled the touchdown, as the buzzer sounded bringing an official end to the game, the players of Lyle High School stormed the field and surrounded DeMetri. Cody joined them, but as the group reached the end zone his players didn’t jump into a celebratory pile.