Leaving (4 page)

He looked at Ms. Baker. “I was nearly killed in Iraq, ma’am. With this second chance, I want to make a difference. The way a few teachers and coaches made a difference for me.”

She nodded slowly. “I respect that.” Another glance through the folder in her hands. “You’re aware you would be taking this position on an emergency credential basis.” Her eyes lifted to his. “It’s a temporary position, Mr. Coleman. We couldn’t offer you a full-time job until you complete the credentialing process — after you graduate.”

“I understand.”

The interview lasted another fifteen minutes while they talked about teaching styles and the importance of hard work and family and faith to the kids of Lyle. “It’s a public school, yes. But this is a community that lives and dies by the success of the crops that surround us. The people of Lyle understand hard work and they’re early to church every Sunday.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Cody felt the light in his eyes. “I can relate.”

Ms. Baker’s expression softened. “I thought so.”

A few more minutes and the principal led Cody to the school’s gym. Inside, a class of maybe thirty guys was counting off jumping jacks while the coach barked out orders. “Faster! Louder! Come on guys. This is February. Champions are made in the off-season!”

Cody wondered if he’d like the man. Some coaches could yell and still get their point across, still show love and concern for their players. Others were mostly a lot of hot air. They stepped inside, and Ms. Baker waited until the coach spotted her. He blew his whistle. “Take five. Get some water. We’ll try it again after that.” The man’s scowl remained as he walked over. “Ms. Baker,” he nodded, terse, serious.

“Coach Oliver, this is Cody Coleman. The candidate sent over by the university.”

“Right.” The man gave Cody a quick once-over. “The kid on the emergency credential.”

A slight look of irritation came over Ms. Baker’s face, but only for a moment. “I’m prepared to offer him the position if he’ll take it.” Her approval of Cody was clear. “But he’ll be your assistant. I’d like the two of you to talk for a few minutes, and then include Mr. Coleman in your practice this afternoon. So he can know if he’d like to be a part of our program.”

“Got it.” Coach Oliver’s surly attitude remained. “Thank you, Ms. Baker.”

She nodded and smiled again at Cody. “Talk to me before you leave. I’ll be in my office.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Cody wasn’t sure what was going on, but clearly there was tension between the coach and principal. It was easy to pick sides.

Ms. Baker left and Coach Oliver stared at him. “Notice she didn’t say, ‘Winning program.’” He sneered. “I’ve been coaching here for two years, and we haven’t won a game.” He took a step closer. “Know why?”

“No, sir.” Cody crossed his arms.

“Because of Coach John Brown.”

Cody could imagine how baffled he must’ve looked. “I’m … sorry, coach. I don’t know John Brown.”

The man raised his eyebrows. “I thought you were from Bloomington.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Boy … everyone in the state knows John Brown. He’s a legend. Won a state title with Lyle for the 1A division six years in a row.” He tossed his hand. “Retired two years ago when the talent dried up.” He lowered his voice and leaned closer. “Even John Brown couldn’t make a winning season out of this sorry group a’ kids.”

Cody nodded. He glanced at the guys, huddled in clusters around the drinking fountain. A couple of them were big — six-four, six-five maybe. Nothing about the group looked especially inept.

“Sure.” The coach shrugged. “I need an assistant. I need an offense and a defense, for that matter. You can at least help me coach. Give the parents someone else to be angry at.”

Cody crossed his arms. If this was Coach Oliver’s sales pitch for Lyle, it was falling flat. He nodded absently, not sure if he was supposed to respond.

Without warning, the man turned to the kids and blew his whistle. “Time’s up. Back in formation.”

Interview over,
Cody thought. He could already picture himself telling Ms. Baker no thanks. He didn’t want to drive out here every day, and he had no desire to take heat from parents because of the defeated mind-set of Coach Oliver. A few minutes later — when the coach was finished with calisthenics — he led the team outside to the bitter cold field. Cody didn’t want to be rude, so he followed.

The temperature had dropped and the clouds were dark and building fast. Forget a light snowfall … a blizzard was about to break loose. Cody anchored himself on the sidelines and watched. The outdoor practice was more of the same: Coach Oliver barking and snapping while the kids walked through a series of passing drills. By the time the coach blew the whistle for the last time, Cody was ready to chock up the entire afternoon to nothing more than experience. A lesson in what he didn’t want to do and where he didn’t want to work.

“There you go, kid.” The coach shrugged again. “Take it or leave it. That’s Lyle.” He walked off with his clipboard and whistle before Cody could respond.

That’s that,
he thought. He was about to find Ms. Baker and decline the offer when he spotted a player headed toward the opposite end zone. The guy stopped at the forty-yard line — or what looked like roughly the forty. He froze in a receiver’s ready position and sprinted across the field. Once he crossed into the end zone, he turned around, jogged to the other forty, and did the same sort of sprint across that part of the field.

A couple stragglers stopped and one of them shouted. “Smitty, you’re crazy! Ain’t no runnin’ gonna help you catch the ball.” The player was a short redhead. He laughed out loud. “You don’t get it.”

His buddy chuckled too, and then both of them walked to the
locker room. As they passed Cody, they gave him a curious look and a distant kind of nod. The kind players might give each other when they want to look tough.

“Gentlemen,” Cody said. He made eye contact with the guys, but only for a moment. Then he turned his attention back to the kid on the field. The player was running another sixty-yard burst, and this time when he reached the end zone he dropped to one knee. He planted his elbow on the other and bowed his head.

Cody narrowed his eyes. Who was the kid, and why was he on the freezing wet ground? He watched as the guy stayed there for a minute, stood and jogged back toward the building, toward Cody. He was about to pass when he slowed up and squinted. “You the new assistant?”

“Uh …” A strange guilt flooded Cody’s heart. He hesitated. “I’m … I’m thinking about it.” A second or two passed, but Cody didn’t want the kid to leave. Not yet. He nodded to the field. “You do that … after every practice?”

“Yes, sir.” The kid crossed his arms. He was black, maybe an inch shorter than Cody, with arms that proved time in the weight room. Something about him reminded Cody of himself, the way he might’ve been in high school if he’d had the grasp of faith he had now. The player stared at the end zone. “I’m dedicating the season to God. Every game … every drive. Every play. Every practice. Trusting God for what’s ahead.”

Compassion for the kid came over Cody. He nodded slowly. “You were praying?”

“Yes, sir.” He let loose a lighthearted laugh and gave a shake of his head. “I’m a junior. If you know anything about Lyle, we need a lot of prayer.”

“I hear.” Cody liked the kid. His leadership and determination. The way he didn’t care about his teammates laughing at him. “What’s your name?”

“DeMetri Smith.” He smiled. “Guys call me Smitty.”

“Coach Coleman.” Cody reached out and shook DeMetri’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” DeMetri grinned, gave a quick wave and jogged off.

He wasn’t too far away when Cody called after him, “DeMetri.”

The player stopped and turned. “Sir?”

“What were you praying for today?”

DeMetri’s smile filled his face. “You’re here because of the job, right?”

“Yes.” Cody paused, but only briefly. “Yes, I am.”

“Then that’s easy.” He started jogging again, his eyes still on Cody. “I was praying for you.” One last grin and he turned and finished the trek to the locker room.

Cody stood there, unable to move. In a moment’s time, he remembered a message from one of the Campus Crusade meetings. The group leader had talked about service to Christ and the purpose of life. The guy’s voice rang in Cody’s mind again: God never said life would be easy. The purpose in living isn’t about our personal happiness … it’s about serving God. When it comes to our relationship with the Creator, we should always … always have our yes on the table. If God asks us to do something, we do it. Our yes is a given.

If Cody had wondered whether God was calling him to Lyle High, he had no doubts now. None whatsoever. DeMetri Smith had given him all the answer he needed. He began the walk to Ms. Baker’s office. Now he would give the principal the answer she needed. Cody would take the job.

His yes was on the table.

He signed papers and promised to start the following day teaching five PE classes and helping out with the Lyle football program. Twenty minutes later Cody was ten miles into the drive home when snow began to fall. It didn’t flutter slowly or take its time deciding whether it meant business. The clouds simply opened up and dumped. Cody slowed and focused on the road.
His lights were on, but they did little to shed visibility on the road ahead.

He drove that way—not more than twenty miles an hour — until the storm let up. The whole way, he couldn’t help but think of Bailey: what she was doing right now on Valentine’s Day, what her family was doing, and whether she ever thought about him. The storm was a lot like his life. He could focus all his attention on the road, stare through the blizzard as intently as possible, but that didn’t mean he could see what was ahead. No, the future was as much a whiteout as the afternoon. He — like DeMetri Smith — had to trust God for what lay ahead. With the drive home. With Lyle High. And with Bailey Flanigan.

With Bailey most of all.

A
SHLEY
B
AXTER
B
LAKE SPREAD PINK FROSTING OVER A COOLED
batch of chocolate cupcakes and still managed to keep her attention on Cole, her twelve-year-old son. He was sharing his valentines from his sixth grade class, reading each one and explaining why that person was important and how he didn’t necessarily like this girl or that one.

“This one’s from Carrie,” he gave a slight roll of his eyes, but he couldn’t hide his grin. “She’s the one who writes on my arm all the time, remember?”

“I do.” Ashley picked up another cupcake, her eyes on Cole. “The cute one with the dark hair.”

Cole shrugged, but his eyes sparkled. “I don’t know how cute she is, but yeah … she writes on my arm.” He took the valentine from its envelope and held it up. “Hers have these ballerina Barbie girls all over them.”

“Which one did she give you?”

“It says, ‘Valentine, I’d leap across the stage for you.’” Again he gave a slight eye roll. “But she doesn’t really mean it, Mom. Half the cards in the box probably say that.”

Ashley laughed. “She might mean it.”

“Anyway …” Cole’s cheeks were a little redder than before. He moved on to the next valentine.

Across the kitchen, five-year-old Devin was helping little Janessa Faith color a Valentine’s Day card for Landon. “That’s right, Nessa … Daddy loves pink.” He pointed to part of the paper.
He kept his voice low, because Cole was still going through his cards. “How ‘bout drawing a circus tent on this part? Daddy loves circuses.”

Ashley glanced at him, struck as she sometimes was by how much he sounded like Cole at that age, how much the two of them looked alike. And Devin definitely had Cole’s imagination. Everything was all about circuses lately. Even, apparently, Janessa’s valentine picture. Not that she could really draw much of anything at three years old. But she liked to try.

“And this one’s from that mean kid, the one who always makes fun of the short girls.”

“Collin?”

“Yes.” Cole shook his head. “I told him to quit it, but he likes the attention. He thinks he’s funny even when the teacher tells him to be quiet and he has to go sit in the back of the—”

From the front of the house came the sound of the door opening, and at the same time Ashley heard Landon cough. Not once, but three times. Hard enough that it made her heart skip a beat. She tried not to react, but she set the butter knife on the counter and held up her index finger in Cole’s direction. “Dad’s home. Hold on a minute.”

She wiped her hands on a damp rag and hurried toward the foyer. Landon was setting down his gear, and as she rounded the corner he coughed again. “Landon …”

He straightened and caught her eye just before she reached him. “Hey,” he smiled big. “Come here.” His voice was hoarse, his cheeks smudged with dirt.

“A fire?” She wrapped her arms around him and pressed the side of her face to his navy button-up uniform shirt. The smell of smoke was all over him. “Oh, baby, not another fire.”

“A warehouse.” Landon turned slightly and coughed two more times. “It wasn’t bad. We saved most of it.”

“But listen to you.” She closed her eyes, her face still up
against his chest. As if by pressing against him she might hear his lungs or help stop whatever was happening inside them. “Your cough’s bad.”

“Daddy!” Devin’s voice rang through the house. He padded barefoot across the wooden floor and into the entry way. “Hi, Daddy! We’re making you val’tine cards.”

“Hey, Dad,” Cole called from the other room. “Come here and see all my valentines.” Cole’s voice was happy, upbeat. He was oblivious to his father’s cough. “We had our party today.”

“Landon,” Ashley whispered his name. She searched his eyes and wondered if he could see her anxiety. The dangers of fighting fires had been there from the beginning. It was after a fire nearly killed Landon years ago that Ashley finally faced the way she felt about him. The fact that she was in love with him. But he’d been coughing more lately—even when he hadn’t been around a fire in weeks. Every time she had to wonder … was his cough some side effect of his time at Ground Zero? Landon had spent more than two months volunteering at the pile, moving debris and looking for victims and breathing the worst possible air.

No wonder every cough made her frantic with the possibilities.

“Daddy, … come see.” Devin jumped around and grabbed Landon’s hand. Janessa took up her position on the other side, her arms wrapped around his leg.

“Just a minute, Dev,” he laughed, and stifled another cough. He kept his eyes on Ashley’s, deep to the places where their love knew no limits. Where it never had. “It’s okay, babe.” He touched his fingers to her hair. “Fires always do this to me.”

Ashley wanted to believe him, wanted to convince herself that if she stayed here lost in his eyes, what he said might be true. Either way, she could do nothing by worrying. Especially now, when they had a Valentine’s Day family dinner planned. She tried to hand her fears to God, and what she kept for herself she stuffed
in the corner of her heart. “Happy Valentine’s Day,” A smile tugged at her lips, even as the kids bounced around at their feet.

“Happy Valentine’s Day.” He put his hand alongside her face and kissed her, tenderly, with a passion that told her there would be more later. When the kids were in bed. “I love you.”

“I love you more.” She felt her heart grow lighter. “Come on.” She ran her fingers over Devin’s blond hair. “The kids have been busy.”

They returned to the kitchen, and Landon fussed and raved over the kids’ handmade cards. He listened to Cole do a second round of explanations about his class party and the cards from his peers, but Ashley caught him taking a few spoonfuls of cough syrup. After that he let only a few coughs slip. Otherwise his lungs seemed to settle down.

Ashley felt the relief to her core. Maybe he was right — the coughing was because of the warehouse fire and not the months at Ground Zero. Never that.

Dinner was spaghetti and meatballs, because, as Devin said, “Busgetti is red, and red is a val’tine’s color.” Landon helped Ashley set the table, and Cole tossed the salad. “Thanks for the ranch, Mom. It’s the best.”

“Sorry it isn’t pink or red.” Ashley laughed, and the relief in her voice was genuine. Landon would be okay. Of course, he would be okay.

“Yeah, but mom it still works,” Cole pointed out. “Red, pink, and white — they’re all Valentine’s colors.” He nodded toward his bag from school. “At least if you look at all those cards.”

When they were seated and holding hands, Landon prayed. “Father, we thank you for this food, for providing for us. And we thank you for our family, where every day is a celebration of love and where every moment is a gift. We love you, Jesus. In your name, we pray. Amen.”

They opened their eyes, put their hands together at the middle
of the table, and did something Cole had started this year after his flag football season. “One … two … three … team!”

Janessa looked a little bewildered, like she wasn’t quite sure what the cheer was. But she liked it anyway, and she gave a happy bit of applause before they all started eating.

“I think we’ll have busgetti at my circus, Daddy,” Devin was in a chatty mood. “Busgetti is a good circus food, right?”

“Yes,” Landon looked at Ashley, and the two shared a quiet smile. “I think spaghetti could be as good a circus food as any.”

“Dad,” Cole set his fork down. “At least tell him the truth.” Cole leaned over the table and smiled at Devin the way a teacher smiles at a kindergartner. “Hot dogs and hamburgers, Devin. That’s better circus food.”

Ashley raised her eyes in Landon’s direction. Cole and Devin were best friends, but when Cole played the older brother card, Devin sometimes resisted. Ashley had a feeling this was one of those times.

Devin frowned. “But I want busgetti for my circus,” he turned to Landon. “Right, Daddy? I can have busgetti at my circus, right?”

“More ‘getti, peease.” Janessa’s interruption came at the perfect moment.

“Yes, sweetie.” Ashley stood and went to their daughter’s highchair. While she served her, she smiled at their oldest son. “You’re right. Hot dogs and hamburgers are a more traditional circus food.” She turned to Devin and gave him a silly grin. “But spaghetti would make your circus more interesting.”

Devin processed that for a few seconds and puffed out his chest. “Yeah, I’m in’eresting.”

Cole looked like he might counter with something only a witty twelve-year-old might come up with, but he caught a look from Landon. He gave a quick shake of his head and laughed quietly instead.

“Okay, so here’s the dinner talk for tonight.” Landon always
had a way of keeping things upbeat, just like Ashley’s father had done when she and her siblings were young, when they were being raised in this very house. “Let’s go around the room and say something we love about each person in our family.”

“Me!” Devin shouted. “I’ll go first!” He gave a quick look at the faces around him, and he started with Ashley. “Mommy, I love that you can paint pictures and cupcakes.”

“Thank you,” Ashley gave Devin a polite nod. “I try my best.” She giggled in Cole’s direction and felt the slight tension from earlier leave the table. Under Landon’s careful, loving leadership they would finish dinner on a happy note.

“Daddy, I love that you have the strongest arms in the world.” Devin couldn’t say his R’s just yet.

Cole sat beside Landon and gave his father’s bicep a squeeze. “You’re right about that, buddy,”

“And, Nessa,” Devin patted his little sister on the hand and then wiped his fingers on his jeans, “I love that you have a highchair, so we don’t get that mess all over us.”

Ashley tried, but she couldn’t stifle her laugh.

“And, Coley.” Devin narrowed his eyes at his big brother. “I love that you … will cook the busgetti at my circus!”

Cole hesitated and glanced at Ashley, but only for a moment. “Yeah.” Cole pumped his fist weakly in the air. “I love cooking spaghetti. Thanks, Devin.”

“There.” Devin sat back, satisfied. “That’s everybody.”

Cole went next. He loved that Janessa was learning to talk better, and that Devin was a good drawer like their mom, and that Ashley was the best mom in the world. “And I love you, Dad,” he turned adoring eyes on Landon, “because you’re my hero and my dad all in one.”

The muscles in Ashley’s throat tightened and her eyes grew watery. Cole had always been able to speak his mind, and tonight was no exception. It was her turn, and she swallowed, blinking
back the unshed tears. “I have to agree with Cole,” she smiled at her son and then at Landon. “I love Daddy because he’s my hero. And because he taught me how to love.”

“Really?” Devin cocked his head, curious. “He gave you lessons?”

Ashley and Landon and Cole all laughed, and Devin shrugged and joined in. After a few seconds, Janessa added her baby-girl giggles so that the whole family was laughing. They finished up with Ashley telling Cole that she loved his honesty and leadership, and Devin that she loved his imagination.

Landon took his time, making silly faces and causing the boys to erupt in more laughter. Finally, when they’d settled down, he looked at Cole and Devin both. “I love that you’re my sons. That’s what I love most.”

Again Ashley’s heart felt full. She had Cole long before she and Landon started dating. But from the beginning he had treated Cole like his own son. His words tonight were more meaningful than either of the boys could possibly know.

Landon turned to her. “And I love your mom … because she has the most beautiful hair.”

“Hmm.” Cole nodded. “She does have pretty hair.”

But by then Ashley and Landon were already giggling again. When she and Landon first started out, Ashley worked at an assisted living home for Alzheimer’s patients. One woman named Irvel — Ashley’s favorite patient — had a habit of constantly complimenting Ashley’s hair. Landon had adopted the practice as a way to lighten certain moments. And always his timing was impeccable.

Even tonight when he knew exactly what she needed. In the wake of his coughing and her concern, she didn’t need an emotional statement or something overly sentimental. She needed to laugh.

Only Landon would know that.

When dinner ended and the kids had pink frosting on their faces, Cole reminded them that tomorrow Landon was off work and school had a late-start day. “And then there’s tryouts tomorrow.”

“Tryouts for me too?” Devin’s eyes got big and he spun fast in Landon’s direction.

“No, buddy.” Landon chuckled. “You’ll play T-ball this season. You don’t need a tryout.”

“But I do.” Cole’s voice seemed to get deeper, and he lifted his chin some. “I’m in Nationals now. That’s the highest we go for Little League around here. Right, Dad?”

“That’s right.” Landon winked at Cole. “I have a pretty good idea you’ll make it. You were in All-Stars last year.”

“Still …” Cole looked at Ashley. “Can we watch a family movie tonight? Like
Sandlot?
To get me in the mood for tryouts?”

The Sandlot
was a family favorite. There were a few unnecessary scenes, but for the most part Ashley loved the story: the tale of neighborhood boys playing ball together and believing that somehow their time at the local sandlot would go on forever.

“You too tired?” She looked at Landon. He hadn’t coughed since earlier, and it was only seven o’clock. But still, she didn’t want him worn out. If he needed rest, he should get it. “Should we wait till the weekend?”

“Nah,” Landon put his arm around Cole’s shoulders. “I say we get the league’s best catcher in the mood for a little baseball.”

“Yay!” Devin jumped around.
“Sandlot! Sandlot!”

Janessa had crawled up onto the couch and was already falling asleep. Ashley took a blanket from a wicker basket on the floor and spread it over her little daughter. In a matter of minutes they were snuggled together, all five of them beneath blankets with the lights dimmed. Ashley sat with Cole on one side and Landon on the other, and even before the movie started she caught herself realizing the importance of tomorrow.