A Thousand Tomorrows & Just Beyond the Clouds Omnibus (21 page)

The cost became an issue as they neared the transplant date. Ali’s parents cashed out the stocks they’d been saving, but they were still short. As soon as he was aware of the situation, Cody paid the difference. Most of his winnings were bankrolled. Other than the cost of riding every week during the season, he didn’t need much.

He shifted on the gurney. He had expected to feel the
adrenaline, the same sense of heightened alert he experienced whenever he climbed onto the back of a bull—ready to fight for his life. Instead, he was antsy with anticipation, anxious to get the transplant over with.

Ali was much worse now. She couldn’t sing or take a walk without getting winded. Even a shower was impossible because the humidity made it too difficult to breathe. The bacterial infection in her lungs wasn’t going anywhere; the lung transplant was her only hope.

Cody would’ve done it back when she first grew worse, but the procedure took time and preparation. Fewer than a hundred live-donor lung transplants were performed each year, most with huge success. Still, the surgery was rare. The right team of doctors at the University of Colorado Hospital in Denver had to be assembled and ready in order for it to be the success they were looking for.

The sun beat on the window of Cody’s room, but in the spray of light all he could see was Ali’s face, the way she looked the night before when he held her, stroking her hair and memorizing her. It would go well; it had to. They hadn’t come this far to run into trouble now. It would be okay for all of them and when transplant and recovery were over, Ali would be stronger, more alive than ever.

He adjusted the sheets and shifted to his side, his back to the door. As he did, he heard someone walk in. Probably another nurse, looking for a sample, ready to poke him with another needle. He turned and what he saw made his stomach drop.

“Hello, Cody…” His father shut the door behind him
and took a few steps closer. His sleeve was rolled up, and a bandage ran around his elbow. “The doctor told me I could have a few minutes with you.”

Cody stared at him, unblinking. How dare his father come now, when he was lying on a gurney, when he couldn’t run away, couldn’t do anything but face the man? This was a private time between him and Ali and her parents. What would his father know about the sort of love he and Ali shared? Why had he come—and how could his mother have allowed it?

With everything in him, Cody wanted to be mad.

But after a month of being married to Ali, after waking with her in his arms and knowing the intimacy of her touch, it didn’t matter how much he wanted to be angry.

He couldn’t remember how.

His father took another step. “I’m sorry, Cody.” His eyes shifted to the smooth tiled floor. When he looked up again, defeat was written across his face. “You don’t have to forgive me; I don’t blame you.”

Cody blinked and the moment changed. He wasn’t in a hospital room a few feet from the father he hadn’t talked to in almost fifteen years. He was a boy again, and his father was throwing his things into a yellow cab, walking around to the passenger door and waving good-bye.
This is it, son… be good for your mama. This is it
… And he was watching his father climb into the cab and shut the door, watching the cab drive off down the street, and he was running after it, as fast and hard as his eight-year-old legs would take him.

And suddenly he thought of something he hadn’t thought of in all those years without his father. Why had he run so
fast and hard? Why had it mattered so much that he catch the cab, that he stop his father from walking out of his life? The answer came swift and certain, choking his soul and making his eyes blur. The reason was obvious. He ran after him because he loved him, loved his father with an intensity he hadn’t known again until Ali Daniels.

Mike Gunner was a pro football player. What little boy wouldn’t have thought him bigger than life, a hero who came home and shared a dinner table with them. But Cody’s father had been so much more than an image. Back when they were together, Cody was the happiest little boy in Atlanta. He and his father played make-believe football games, and Cody would savor the long afternoons when his dad threw him a ball or tackled him on the living room floor. The sun rose and set on the man because that’s how much Cody loved him.

That’s why he ran after the cab that day.

For some crazy mixed-up reason, he had blamed his mother for the loss, as if she were at fault for letting him go. But even all of that had been fueled only by the crazy love of a little boy for his daddy. A bond that even hatred couldn’t sever. In fact, his hatred for his father was equaled only by the love he’d once felt for him, the love he’d lost. A love that was still alive, because Cody could feel it rushing to the surface, taking away his ability to speak or cry or even breathe.

His father cleared his throat. “I came to say a few things; I might as well get them said.” He rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture Cody recognized as his own. Their eyes met and his father’s were marked by a vulnerability, an openness
that seemed to bare his heart. “I was selfish and wrong when I left you; I couldn’t see anything but me.” He turned his hands palms up. “It was all my fault, Cody. I couldn’t let you…” He gestured toward the hospital room. “I couldn’t let you go through this without telling you how sorry I am. You and Carl Joseph, you deserved better.”

“We…” Cody pressed his lips together to keep from crying. “We needed you, Dad.”

“I know.” Only a few feet separated them, and his father closed the distance. He reached toward Cody with his bandaged arm and held his hand out. “I’m sorry.”

Somehow this attempt was different from the time his father showed up at the rodeo. There it felt like a stunt, his way of cashing in on Cody’s success and popularity. But here… Cody coughed, working out the thickness in his throat. He pointed to the bandage on his father’s arm. “What happened?”

He grabbed the spot with his other hand and shrugged. “I gave blood. In case you or Ali or her father need it during the surgery.”

Cody blinked, too stunned to move. His father had done what? He’d given blood for them? Not knowing whether Cody would even talk to him, he’d flown to Denver and given blood?

Voices talked in hushed tones in the hallway, and buzzers from a nearby room filled the air. Cody barely noticed. In painful slow motions, the walls in his heart came crumbling down. He still loved his dad, he actually did. No matter how many years the rage had consumed him or how hard he’d
tried to battle it into submission. The love was there as long as the little boy in his heart still lived. Tears spilled onto his cheeks. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t tell his father the things he wanted to say, things that were still awkward. But he did the one thing he could do.

He reached out and took his father’s hand.

A
LI COULD BREATHE
again.

This was her first sign that the surgery was over, and that it had gone well. She was still sedated, still not quite awake. But she could breathe. For a long while she lay there, savoring every breath, every sweet, life-giving breath.

The rest of her days she would have a part of Cody inside her, a part of him, and a part of her father. Their gift would give her the chance to think about riding again or having a family or beating CF once and for all. The chance to think about tomorrow and all it might offer. Her father had always been a part of her. But now and forevermore, Cody’s life would course through her, giving her strength and hope and time. Giving her a future.

She heard someone walk into the room and come close. “Hello?” Her throat sounded dry, her voice thick and hoarse.

“Ali, sweetheart.” It was her mother. The clear, kind voice of her mother. “How are you feeling?”

“Mama…” Sleep hung over her, making her eyelids heavy. But she fought to open them. When she did, she squinted,
trying to make out her mother’s face. “How’s Daddy and Cody?”

“They’re wonderful, honey.” Her mother kissed her cheek. “The surgery was a success for everyone.”

Ali closed her eyes, relief adding to the other wonderful feelings awakening throughout her body. But none of them meant anything if she couldn’t see him, couldn’t be with him. This time she spoke without opening her eyes, her words slow and raspy. “Take me to him, Mama, please. Take me to Cody.”

C
ODY WAS COMING
around, trying to open his eyes. The room was quiet, but he had the strangest sense he wasn’t alone.

He’d been through a surgery, he remembered that much. His lung was gone by now, gone to Ali, where it belonged. But what had happened before the operation? Had he been dreaming or had his father come by with a bandage on his arm, talking about mistakes and seeking forgiveness?

His head was heavy, groggy from the medication, but he opened his eyes and instantly he had the answers. It wasn’t a dream. His father was sitting a few feet away, his head in his hands. Next to him was his mother, and standing near the door was—

“Brother!” Carl Joseph lumbered across the room and shook his hand, too excited to contain himself. “Brother, I’m happy to see you!”

“Thanks, buddy.” Cody struggled to bring his hand to his face and massage his brow. “I can tell.”

Their parents stood and looked at him. His father took a step forward. “Ali’s doing great, son. Her father, too. We’ve all been praying and… the surgery was everything they hoped it would be.”

Cody lifted his eyes to his father’s. He cared that much? Was he really that different now? In that minute, Ali’s request came back to him, the one she’d made on their wedding day. That he might make amends with his parents.

She was right, wasn’t she? Life would be better for all of them if forgiveness won out. He’d been given the greatest gift of all—a little more time with Ali Daniels. What right did he have to hold on to anger now, when his whole life was marked by the most amazing sort of love? Life was too short to hate; Ali had taught him that.

“Brother, guess what?” Carl Joseph still had ahold of his hand. He pumped it again. Never mind that Cody had ignored him for the past year, that he’d walked right past him at the last rodeo, the one where Ali had gotten sick. Carl Joseph’s love never skipped a beat, never took offense.

“What, buddy?”

Carl Joseph’s eyes grew wide. “Dad’s here, too. Remember Dad? He’s here, brother!”

Their mother took Carl Joseph’s hand then and led him back a few steps. Her eyes met Cody’s and he saw the fear there, the concern that Cody would break into a fit of rage the way he had before.

Instead, he smiled at her. Then he shifted his gaze and
looked at his father, the two of them unblinking. Whatever his father had done before, the man was sorry. He really was. Cody ached for all the years the two of them had missed, the lonely days when, as a boy, he’d needed his dad. But those days were behind them. Here and now he was overcome with a need to be held by the man again, the way he’d been held by him a lifetime ago.

He held out his arms and said the only word he could manage. “Dad…”

His father came to him, hugging him so tight it hurt the incisions on his chest. But Cody didn’t care. A torrent of sorrow released and Cody wept for all they’d lost, all they might never have found if not for Ali.

And in that moment Cody realized that all those years of bull riding, he’d been kidding himself. The battles he’d fought in the arena had done nothing to ease his hatred for his father, the same way the years had done nothing to ease his need for the man.

Only this could empty him of the rage and bitterness and years of unforgiveness, this embrace that tore at the enemy lines and built a bridge that would take them out of yesterday and into tomorrow.

His dad straightened a bit. “I’m sorry about Ali.”

“Me, too.” He tried to smile, but his chin was quivering too much. “She’s a fighter, Dad. I think the doctors are wrong.” He sniffed. “I think she’ll get ten more years at least.”

“At least.” His father hesitated. Then he hugged him again, even tighter than before.

That’s when Cody realized his father was crying, shaking as the two stayed locked together. Cody’s face was wet, and he wasn’t sure if it was from his father’s tears or his own. Here, in his father’s arms, he was a boy facing the biggest battle of all, the battle for Ali’s life. If he was to survive it, he needed all the help he could get. When he could talk, Cody mumbled into his father’s shoulder, “I’m afraid, Dad. I can’t live without her.” He grabbed a couple of quick breaths.