A Thousand Tomorrows & Just Beyond the Clouds Omnibus (15 page)

“Mrs. Daniels…” He stood in the doorway, his heart racing.

She turned and looked at him. “Hello, Cody.” A dishtowel hung over her left shoulder; her hair was pinned up.

“Ma’am, can I talk to you?” Cody walked the rest of the distance into the kitchen and anchored himself a few feet from her.

“Sure.” She set the big plastic spoon on the countertop, blew at a wisp of hair, and turned to face him. “What’s on your mind?”

“Well.” His hands were sweaty. He wiped them on his Wranglers and reached into his pocket. The ring was there
and he pulled it out, keeping his fingers tight around it. “Has Ali told you anything about the two of us?”

“Yes.” Sarah Daniels’ expression closed off some. “She tells me the two of you are friends.” She raised one eyebrow a bit. “Nothing more.”

He gave a nervous chuckle and ran his thumb along the ring, keeping it hidden in the palm of his hand. “To be honest with you, ma’am, things have changed. They’ve been changing for a while now.”

“Changing?” She leaned against the counter.

“Yes, ma’am. See…” This was the hardest thing he’d ever said. Ali had been sheltered all her life because of her health. What would her mother think of her sick daughter falling in love with a bull rider? Cody clenched his teeth and continued. “I love her. I’m in love with her. We have… we have very strong feelings for each other.”

Mrs. Daniels crossed her arms, her knuckles white. “Does Ali know you’re talking to me?”

“No.” Cody’s answer was quick. “I went into town today and I bought this.” He held out his hand and opened it. The ring caught the light and sprayed it across the kitchen. It was even more beautiful outside the velvet box. “I want to marry her, Mrs. Daniels. I wanted to talk to you and her father first, but since he was asleep I thought I’d show you the ring and—”

“No, Cody.” She held her hand up and made short desperate shakes with her head. She brought her fingers to her face and covered her eyes.

Her obvious distress stopped him from saying anything else. He held the ring between his thumb and forefinger, and
let his hand fall to his side. Was she that surprised, that upset about the idea? Was he such a poor choice for a husband that she couldn’t hear him out?

Through the cracks between her fingers he could see the color leaving her cheeks. Her forehead was creased in a strong mix of grief and sorrow Cody hadn’t expected. He felt his heart sink. Whatever the future held for Ali and him, it wouldn’t be easy.

Finally, she folded her arms and drew in a shaky breath. When her eyes met his, he saw there were tears on her cheeks. “We asked Ali to tell you.”

Cody felt light-headed. What was she talking about? Ali didn’t need to tell anyone anything; that was his job. He was the one who wanted to ask the question. He blinked twice. “Tell me what?”

Ali’s mother came closer and put her hands on Cody’s shoulders. “Ali’s dying.”

He took a step back, letting her hands fall from him. Why would she say that, especially now? Ali was fine. She was better than she’d been at the end of the season. He shook his head, his eyes holding tight to hers. “That’s a terrible thing to say, ma’am. Her doctor told her she was doing better.”

“Cody.” The woman’s voice was tired, but steadier than before. Fresh tears filled her eyes. “For years I’ve prayed Ali would fall in love, that someone might come along to make her forget about horses and barrel racing. Someone who would keep her indoors, where she could be safe.” She made a sound that was more cry than laugh. “Instead, she met you. Someone who loves rodeo as much as she does.”

“Ma’am”—he was shaking from head to toe, his world spinning out of control—“Ali told me about her disease. She said it would take years off her life, but she could live a long time still. Decades, even, right?”

“No.” The sadness in her eyes was deeper, stronger than before. “Ali doesn’t need a wedding, Cody. She needs a lung transplant. Otherwise…” Her voice caught and she brought the back of her hand to her mouth. Two sobs filled the space between them. She hung her head. “Cody, I’m sorry; Ali… Ali should’ve told you.”

He couldn’t draw a breath, couldn’t feel himself standing there. It wasn’t happening; he wasn’t hearing this. He bent over, his forearms on his knees.
Breathe, Gunner. Get a grip
. Nothing was going to happen to Ali, nothing. He straightened and stared at Ali’s mother. “What are you saying? She’s sicker than she’s let on?” His tone was angrier than he intended. “Is that it?”

Mrs. Daniels still had her hand near her mouth. She moved it now, her lips quivering. “Ali will be dead in a year without a lung transplant.
That’s
what the doctor said the last time he saw us.” She hugged herself and three more quiet sobs shook her shoulders. “We’ve all known it was coming.”

Cody felt the wood floor beneath his feet buckle. Her words didn’t make sense, didn’t connect with the conversations he’d had with Ali even the day before. She was feeling better, anxious to get back on Ace, making plans for the coming season. Ali Daniels wasn’t dying, not even close.

But that reality clashed hard with the one before his eyes. Her mother was crying, weeping for Ali and the pain she
clearly believed lay ahead for all of them. He began to shake and sway a little. He couldn’t get his words to come. Was it true? Could Ali have known this and kept it from him? Upstairs, the water was still running. Ali wouldn’t be down for a while.

“Mrs. Daniels…” He waited until she opened her eyes, until he could see for himself whether Ali was as bad off as she’d said. “Ali won’t live another year without a lung transplant? Is that right?”

“Yes, Cody.” She looked at him, and in that moment he knew. “We’ve talked about a live transplant, but that won’t work.” A catch sounded in her voice. “She’s on a donor list; that’s all we can do.”

Cody’s head was spinning. It was true, all of it.

Ali’s lungs really were that bad, no matter what she said or how she felt or how determined she was to be at the season opener in January. She was dying. And suddenly all the fuzzy lines of their relationship came into crisp, clear focus. Of course she hadn’t wanted to be more than friends.

What had she told him that day, half a year ago, when he saw her riding Ace in the fields behind one of the arenas? She didn’t want to be caught, right? But he’d gone after her anyway, even after she told him straight-up not to chase her. Only he couldn’t stop himself.

And once he caught her, she couldn’t stop herself, either.

A suffocating pressure settled on his chest, and he leaned his hip into the counter closest to him. There would be no wedding, no future together, not if she only had a year. Ali would never agree to it. She would cling to her thought that
if she told him no, if she pulled away, she could somehow spare them both the pain that would eventually come.

The reality was still sinking in, still exploding through his heart and soul. Ali Daniels was dying. She was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing he could—

What had her mother said?

Think, Gunner
. There was a solution here; there had to be. She was on a donor list, but there was something else, right? Something about a live transplant, wasn’t that it?
Live
had to mean someone living could give her a lung, at least it sounded that way. That would be serious, of course, but it could be done. And if it could be done then there was still hope; there had to be. He sucked in a full breath.

“Okay.” He grabbed the thin string of hope and clung to it with his whole being. He studied her mother’s face. “Let’s get her a lung transplant. Then she’ll be fine, right?”

Ali’s mother closed her eyes and shook her head. New tears splashed onto the floor. “She’s on a waiting list, but she’s not a top priority, not yet.”

His mind raced. He pinched the bridge of his nose, demanding his mind to focus. “Tell me about this live transplant thing. Why won’t that work?”

She sniffed and brought her fist to her lips for a moment. “They can do a transplant with two living donors. Her father’s a match, but I’m not.” She shook her head and opened her eyes. “We’ve never been close to Ali’s two aunts, and besides, she doesn’t want to ask. She says it isn’t anyone’s fault but her own that she needs a transplant this soon.”
Defeat deepened the lines on her forehead. “Without a second donor the idea of a—”

“Wait!” The answer was easy. “I’ll give her one of mine.” Cody’s heart pounded with hope. That was the answer. Of course it was. He could get by on one lung, couldn’t he? People did it all the time. Hadn’t he read about a rider who took a horn to the ribs, lost a lung, and kept riding? Or what about his grandfather? The man had lung cancer and lived another decade with just one lung. Possibility rushed through him. “I’ll do it, Mrs. Daniels. I’ll give her one. Then she can get better.”

“Cody.” Ali’s mother came closer, her eyes begging him to understand. “Ali won’t ever get better.” She sucked in four quick breaths and gave another shake of her head. “A new lung will buy her three years at best. Three years, Cody.”

Three years?
Cody held his breath. It wasn’t long enough, but it was better than one. And maybe sometime during those three years they’d find a cure, a way to help cystic fibrosis patients live longer.

Three years was an eternity if it meant keeping Ali alive.

“Mrs. Daniels”—his tone was calmer now, marked with a steely determination—“I’ve measured my whole life in seconds.” He took her hands and squeezed them. His mind was made up. “On the back of a bull, eight seconds feels like a lifetime.” A catch sounded in his voice. “Three years…?” He studied her. “That’s a thousand tomorrows, ma’am. Forever to a cowboy like me.”

Ali’s mother tried, but nothing she said after that came close to changing his mind. He turned in early, not sure he
could face Ali without letting her know the truth—that her secret was out.

His conversation with her mother stayed with him as he headed for the guesthouse and long after the lights were out. He would give Ali a lung, and maybe she would get back five years or ten. Maybe someone really would find a cure. They could get married and force a lifetime of love and memories into whatever time she had. The more he thought about it, the more he was sure it would happen. And if it only bought them three years then so be it.

Because three years with Ali was better than all of eternity without her.

Chapter Thirteen

B
efore he could do anything else, before he could think about the future, he had to know if he was a match. The first test was simple. If his blood type matched hers, if he was healthy and bigger than her, he could be a donor. After that more specific testing would mix a sample of his blood with a sample of hers, to check for compatibility.

The next day he drove into Denver and headed for the office of Dr. Cleary, the man who knew how bad off Ali really was. A receptionist made him wait half an hour, but finally the doctor saw him. When Cody explained the situation, he was happy to draw the blood.

Cody had no anxiety while he waited. He knew the answer long before the nurse presented him with the results. He was a match; of course he was. He and Ali were so close their hearts beat in time with each other. How could his blood type have been anything but the same as hers? The
other test results wouldn’t be available for several days, but Cody felt confident.

That afternoon as he walked up to the house, he heard loud voices inside. He opened the door quieter than usual and listened.

“I don’t care! You had no right to tell him.”

“Ali, he loves you; he had to know.” It was her mother. Cody sank against the doorframe and listened.

“I would’ve told him, can’t you see that? How am I supposed to face him now?” She was crying, her breaths short. He wanted to go to her, but he steadied himself, waiting, listening.

“Ali, calm down. You do yourself no good by getting upset.”

“I don’t care!” She uttered a cry. “So where is he now, huh? Where’d he go?”

“I told you; he’s getting a blood test.” She sounded tired, deliberately calm, the sorrow from the previous night hidden, no doubt for Ali’s sake. “Ali, he
wants
to give you a lung.”

“No!” She shouted this time, her voice ringing with anger and fear. “I won’t take it!” He heard footsteps and then the sound of the back door opening and slamming shut.

“Ali!” He heard her mother open the door again and shout after her. “It’s too cold out there! Come back and talk to me!”

That was all Cody needed to hear. He ran into the house, grabbed Ali’s black wool jacket from the chair, and exchanged a glance with her mother. “I’ll bring her back.”

“Please, Cody.” Relief rang in her voice. “Get her inside.”

Cody tore through the door in time to see Ali sprint across the backyard toward the barn. She was going for Ace, no doubt. Ali hadn’t been on him since they’d been home, and he knew how badly she wanted to ride.

He had never seen Ali run on anything but a horse. Watching her now, he wasn’t surprised. She ran fast, a picture of grace and beauty, the same way she was on Ace’s back. He picked up his speed as she turned and dashed through the barn doors. By the time he made his way inside, she was already saddling Ace. She turned, startled by his presence.

“Cody!” She pulled the cinch strap tight, put her boot in the stirrup and swung herself into the saddle. Shame darkened her features. She led the horse a few steps toward him. A wheeze sounded between her words. “Go away… I want to be alone.”

“I’m not leaving.” He held tight to her coat. Then he closed the distance between them, grabbed the saddle horn and swung himself up behind her.

“Fine.” She didn’t skip a beat, but dug her heels into Ace’s sides and leaned forward.

The horse took off like lightning, tearing out of the barn and out into the open fields. He could feel her shaking, shivering from the combination of cold and fury. His body sheltered hers, but it wasn’t keeping her warm, not with the wind in her face. He leaned in and yelled loud enough for her to hear him. “Stop! You need your coat.”