“What’re you thinking?” Bailey was riding beside him, the warm breeze on their faces.
“About you.” Cody smiled at her. The sun was setting, and the sky was streaked with pinks and pale blues.
They turned right out of her parents’ driveway, down a hill toward a dead-end cul-de-sac.
“Oh, yeah?” Bailey’s eyes danced. “What about me?”
“How you really should become a triathlete. I mean, the power in your pedaling is impressive.”
“Stop.” She laughed, her head back. Then with a burst of speed she took the lead, lowering her body over the handlebars and flying down the hill. At the bottom, she skidded to a stop and pointed at him, her face taken up by her smile. “See, I can ride a bike.”
“I know.” He was out of breath, but more from the thrill of being with her than any exertion from the ride. “Maybe you could train me.”
They were at the bottom of the hill at the end of the road, where a gravel path took off through a section of woods surrounding the Flanigans’ neighborhood. She was still laughing when she climbed off her bike and shaded her eyes. “The sunset’s so pretty.”
“It’s one more reason I love living here.” Cody stepped off his bike, too. He had a feeling Bailey wanted to walk the path. Either way he enjoyed this, being alone with her. A short walk through the woods would be nice. There was a stream a quarter mile in where a family of box turtles had created a home, probably preparing to hibernate for the coming winter. “Let’s go find the turtles.”
“The ones Ricky says are in there somewhere?” She took a few steps toward the gravel path. “As long as we stay away from snakes.”
Earlier in the summer Bailey’s brothers had come across a copperhead snake, and Bailey hadn’t forgotten it. Cody laughed. “They’re in for the night by now.”
“I’m not sure.” She waited for him to start out on the path, and she walked alongside him.
This was the sort of moment they hadn’t shared much of this summer. Cody could’ve pushed for it, but again he wanted to make sure Bailey was comfortable with things between them first. He reached for her hand and gently eased his fingers between hers.
“I still can’t believe it.” She walked close enough to him that their arms brushed against each other.
Cody didn’t have to ask. He knew very well what she was talking about. “Me either.”
“Tell me something.” She lifted her eyes to him, their pace slow. The trees were still a ways off, so for now the sunlight still danced on her face.
“Anything.” He didn’t look away, didn’t want to be anywhere but lost in her eyes.
“Why did you tell me to stay with Tim when you came home from Iraq?” The slightest shadow fell over the moment. “I figured you didn’t see me…” she lifted their joined hands, “…like this. You know?”
How could he answer her? It was too soon to put his feelings for her into words—the intensity of how he felt might scare her off, even now that they’d found this connection. He swallowed hard and looked straight ahead. “I told you why.”
“You said he was better for me.”
“I thought he was.” Cody slowed his pace and looked at her. “His background isn’t complicated like mine…he doesn’t have a past. I felt old, like I’d seen too much. I guess I wanted to keep you away from all that.”
“I care about your past.” Her voice was kind, but still a little hurt. “It’s not your fault…what happened in Iraq.”
“Not just Iraq.” He thought about his drinking problem, and the trouble with his mother. “I come with baggage, Bailey. You know that.”
“None of that matters.” She smiled, but there was sorrow in her eyes. “You know what I wanted you to say that day? The day you came home from Iraq?”
“What?” He ached to take her in his arms, but he resisted. He focused on her eyes, her heart.
“I wanted you to tell me to leave Tim. I wanted you to say you’d been thinking about me the whole time you were at war.”
Again Cody wasn’t sure how much to tell her. They kept walking, heading into a thicket at the entrance to the woods. They could hear the creek somewhere up ahead. “I wouldn’t have told you to break up with him.” He kept his tone soft, tender. “That had to be your idea.”
“You could’ve said that.” She wasn’t trying to fight with him, that much was obvious in her expression. “Instead I spent every day from then until this last Fourth of July thinking you weren’t interested.”
At that, a single laugh rattled in Cody’s throat. “Yeah, Bailey…I was interested. I was always interested.”
He could feel her smile. “Really?” She gave his hand a slight squeeze. “Always?”
Cody stopped and touched her cheek as gently as he could. “Always, Bailey.” They hadn’t talked about this, even since the Fourth of July. Almost as if it had been enough that they’d found something special together. Like they didn’t need to define it or analyze it or wonder about why it hadn’t happened sooner. Not until now. “Every moment…every day.”
She smiled, and for a moment it seemed like they would kiss again. The electricity between them, the connection was enough to stop his breathing. The air was cooling, and the deeper they got into the woods the less the fading sun cast light on the path. He wanted to talk more about this, but not here, with darkness falling around them. What if there really were snakes out here? They didn’t bother him, but he’d never forgive himself if something happened to her. “I think the turtles are a few yards up.”
The stream was on their right, and Cody led her off the path toward the water. He slipped his arm around her waist, the two of them standing shoulder-to-shoulder. “Keep quiet. We might hear them moving.”
Bailey snuggled against him, waiting—the air around them silent except for a subtle rustle of leaves overhead. Suddenly, further on a little, came the sound of something splashing into the water. Bailey gasped. “Was that a turtle or a snake?”
“Snakes aren’t that loud.” He kept from laughing, since she was serious. “It’s gotta be the turtles. Maybe a couple of them.” They kept walking, slowly, softly, and there in the last remaining rays of sunlight were two turtles swimming in the stream.
“Oh,” Bailey whispered. “They’re so cute.”
“They are. That’s why there aren’t lots of them left in the countryside. People take them home for pets.”
“They like it out here.” Bailey rested her head on Cody’s shoulder. “They look happy.”
He smiled. “Sort of like they’re smiling.”
“Exactly.” She giggled softly.
For a few minutes they stayed, watching the turtles swim together, and then exit onto a bank at the other side of the creek. When the turtles were out of sight, Cody led her back to the path. He wanted to kiss her so badly, here in the woods amidst the wonder of the turtles and the seclusion of the trees. But something about making that sort of move didn’t feel right. Especially with the questions Bailey had. She deserved his conversation first.
They were on the edge of the woods, with the clearing and their bikes in sight, when Cody spotted a fallen log. He pointed to it. “Let’s sit a minute.”
Side by side they sat, hands joined, their bodies close. The humidity had let up, and the slightest damp chill filled the air—a first hint of the impending fall. Cody enjoyed the warmth of her there next to him. He took a full breath and looked at her, straight into her heart. “You mentioned Iraq…how you hoped I’d been thinking about you when I was there.”
“Yeah. It was a fantasy, I guess.” Despite the shadows that fell across her face, her eyes shone with a depth that was unmistakable. “Before you left…I don’t know, I thought you and I found something special.”
“We did.” Cody wasn’t ready to tell her he silently cried into his pillow all the way to the airport when he shipped out, but it was time she knew a few of the details of that time in his life. “I thought about you constantly. Back when we were writing to
each other.”
“I remember that.” Her eyes took on a faraway look. “I was so worried. I prayed for you every day.” She shivered a little. “I’ll never forget hearing that you were missing. After a while I thought…” she looked down and for a long time she said nothing. When she lifted her eyes to his, they were flooded with unshed tears. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
She didn’t have to say it, but the truth remained. It was after that time—after he escaped life as a prisoner of war—that Cody’s letters grew further apart, his tone more distant. Eventually Bailey started spending more time with Tim. By the time Cody returned to Bloomington, Bailey had a boyfriend. None of that mattered now, because here they were. But still Cody struggled to explain why he’d distanced himself. The truth was, he didn’t think Bailey deserved him battered and broken. His baggage was too great.
He sighed. “When they captured me, I believed every single day I’d find a way out.” An intensity filled his voice, passion and pain over the memory of that time. “I couldn’t stand up in my cell, couldn’t straighten my legs or raise my arms. They beat us every day. Gave us some sort of watered down cereal and crusts of moldy bread.”
Bailey slid her hand up his arm and held on, clinging to him. “I hate that. I can’t picture you trapped that way.”
“At night there were rats.” He looked straight ahead, seeing life the way it had been those lonely weeks. “You could hear them in the dark, scurrying on the floor. Some of the guys wanted to give up, so that was the other part. Keeping them strong, making them believe.” He spared her the graphic details, because that time was behind him. He would tell her someday, if the two of them stayed together. But for now she needed to know only one thing. He shifted so he could see her better. Then he brought his hand to her cheek. “God was with me, that was my constant hope.”
Her expression told him she had no idea what was coming.
“Every day, every long night—not for a single moment did I think I’d die there. I prayed and I always believed I’d get out.” He lifted her chin with the crook of his finger. Their eyes met, and after a few seconds he watched her fears ease some. “You know why?”
She shook her head.
“Because of you.” He hadn’t intended the conversation to get so intense, but she needed to know. She was right; he’d kept his feelings from her for a very long time. He was finished believing he wasn’t good enough for Bailey Flanigan. God had brought them together, and now nothing could make him leave. He would fight for her, stand by her, and here…here he would tell her how he felt because he loved her that much.
“Me?” Her voice was barely a whisper. She searched his face, not believing him. “You thought about me?”
“I wasn’t sure we’d ever have this.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers. “But if I could see you again, spend an afternoon with you again, I was going to find my way out.”
“Cody…” Tears filled her voice. “Why didn’t you tell me?” The sky was dusk now, the pinks and blues faded to charcoal gray. The early evening shadows created an intimacy they hadn’t shared together since the Fourth. “You came home and I thought…I thought you’d changed. That you didn’t care about me the way you did before. I wasn’t sure you ever cared in the first place.”
“I cared.” He wasn’t sure if he should kiss her, but the timing seemed right, one of the only ways he could let her know how he felt then, how he felt now. He drew closer to her until his lips found hers. The kiss was marked with a passion and longing, a desperation…because what if he hadn’t made it home? He drew back and let himself get lost in her eyes again. “I always cared.”
“Mmm.” She returned his kiss, bringing her hand up alongside his face and pushing her fingers into his hair. The kiss was slow and filled with emotion, the years of wondering answered in this single moment. She drew back and her eyes were so blue, so full of love. “All that time?” She kissed him again, briefly and the moment was interrupted by a ripple of her sweet laughter. “Really?”
“Really.” He resisted the desire to kiss her again, longer this time. Her touch reminded him he still had to be careful. No matter how much control he thought he had, he couldn’t let his desire get ahead of him. He kissed her one last time, letting his fingers linger alongside her pretty face. For a long time he looked at her. “Sometimes I can’t believe this is really happening.”
“Me, either.” Her tears from earlier were gone, and her eyes danced.
Cody could feel his resistance fading, so before he could find a reason to stay he stood and helped her to her feet. “We have to get back.”
“Okay.” But instead of heading toward the bikes, she turned to him and hugged him, laying her head on his chest. “Thank you.” Her eyes found his once more. “For telling me.”
“There’s more.” He could feel himself regaining control as they walked slowly down the gravel path. He smiled at her. “But we have time.”
“We do, don’t we?” She grinned at him. Then after a brief hesitation, she turned and raced ahead. “First one home’s a triathlete.”
Cody laughed and it cost him a few seconds. By the time he reached his bike, Bailey was already pedaling up the hill, lowered over the handlebars once more, pushing herself toward home. Cody let her keep the lead, because he wanted to savor everything that had just happened, the conversation, the closeness they shared. Their kiss. They had found something rare and special these past few months. They had laughter and longing—and a faith that could get them through whatever tomorrow held. And they had something that made every day better than the last.
They had time.
Four
NOT ONCE SINCE SHE’D FIRST STEPPED FOOT in the adoption agency had Andi Ellison wavered about her decision to give up her baby, but today was bound to be difficult. There was no way around it. Today she and her mom would walk into the doctor’s office where she would have her second ultrasound. The first had shown her the baby’s heartbeat.
This one would tell her if she were carrying a boy or a girl.
“How’re you feeling?” Her mom was driving and already they were halfway to Indianapolis.
“It’s weird.” Andi put her hand on her stomach. “The baby’s moving more today.” She looked at her mom. “I guess it’s making me think.” She was five months along, and her belly was growing, pushing against her dance pants and making jeans no longer an option.
“You’re still sure?” It was the question her mom and dad never asked, the one they all walked around and didn’t mention. But here…on the way to this very key appointment, it was time. If her mom didn’t ask the question, no one would.
Not even Andi.
“I think so.” She spread her fingers across her middle and thought about the little life growing inside her. Yes, the child was Taz’s baby, and in that sense she could let go. He had kept his distance since the day he walked out of her life and even now—when he knew about the baby—he didn’t care enough to even ask how she was doing. She could give up Taz’s baby, for sure. She’d already picked the adoptive family—the husband and wife who had looked so much like Katy and Dayne Matthews—Luke and Reagan and their kids, Tommy and Malin. Andi still didn’t know their last names, and she hadn’t yet showed their photo-page to her parents. But they were the family she was sure would take her baby.
At least that’s how she thought she felt.
“Honey,” Lisa Ellison’s voice was soft, not wanting to push her daughter too far on the topic. “Are you doubting this? The adoption?”
“I don’t know.” Andi sighed. The part she hadn’t acknowledged until the past few weeks, when she began feeling the baby move inside her, was the obvious: the baby was hers too. Her firstborn child. She ran her thumbs over her firm stomach. Her mom was still waiting for an answer, and she shifted in her seat so she could see her better. “It’s harder. Feeling the baby move makes me realize…my daughter or son is growing inside me.”
“It’s an
amazing feeling.” Her mom reached over and took hold of her hand. “I remember when you were that small, the fluttering…realizing I was finally going to be a mother.”
“Do you think about the babies you lost?” Andi had thought often lately about her lost siblings—the babies her mom had lost through miscarriage.
“Of course.” Her mom kept her eyes on the road, but she could see a shine that hadn’t been there before. “We wanted four kids or five. But after three miscarriages…all of them so late in the pregnancies…It was time.” She looked sad, like she still carried the loss with her. “The doctor told us we were done.” Her chin trembled a little and she shrugged one shoulder. “That was that.”
Andi had never talked about it. She didn’t know about the miscarriages at all until their last year in Indonesia. Andi was fifteen and even then her parents hadn’t talked about the details. “They were all boys, right?”
“They were.” Lisa smiled, but her eyes still showed her sorrow. “I like knowing that one day you’ll meet them. Your little brothers.”
For a while they were quiet, and she wondered about the boys—the three that were lost. Maybe if they’d lived, Andi never would’ve gone to Indiana University. She might’ve stayed home so she could be part of their lives, and she never would’ve met Taz. Never would’ve been in this situation. It was a loss she hadn’t truly felt until now. She gave her mom’s hand a squeeze that told her without words how sorry she was for her heartache. For the loss their family had spent a lifetime living with.
“I remember when you told me about losing the babies, how they were all boys,” Andi looked at the highway ahead, but all could she see was herself, the way she was back then, so sure she could solve any problem. “I figured one day I’d have a whole houseful of boys. All the boys you never got to raise, all the brothers I never got to have. And somehow that would make up for it.”