A Thousand Tomorrows & Just Beyond the Clouds Omnibus (27 page)

The music’s effect was contagious. Gus stood and waved his hands over his head, swaying his hips from one side to the other. Even Sid pointed at a few of the other students and managed the slightest grin.

When the song ended, Daisy and Carl Joseph were out of breath. They held hands and did a dramatic bow. Four students rushed to their feet, clapping as if they’d just witnessed something on a Broadway stage. Daisy waved her hands at them. “Wait… one more thing!”

Elle stepped back. A situation like this one was good for Daisy. She had spent all her life around able-bodied people, people blessed with social graces. She wasn’t skilled at trying to command a group of people with Down Syndrome.

“Hey…” She waved her arms again.

The other students danced merrily about, clapping their hands and laughing. Even Sid was on his feet.

“I said… wait!” Daisy’s happy countenance started to change.

But before she could melt down, Carl Joseph stepped up. “Sit down!” his voice boomed across the room.

Instantly the students shut their mouths. Most of them dropped slowly to their seats. Sid and Gus stayed standing, but neither of them said another word.

“Thanks, CJ.” Daisy looked at him, her hero. She turned to the others. “We have one more thing.”

“Yeah.” Carl Joseph chortled loudly and then caught himself and covered his mouth again.

Daisy nodded at him. “I go first, okay?”

“Okay.” The loud whisper was back.

“Here it is.” Daisy looked at Elle and grinned. Then she held out both hands toward her classmates. “M-I-C…”

Carl Joseph saluted. “See you real soon.”

“K-E-Y…”

“Why?” He put his hands on his hips and then pointed at Gus. “ ’Cause we like you.”

Then he linked arms with Daisy and together they finished the chant. “M-O-U-S-E.”

Sid tossed his hands in the air. “Yeah, but did you go to Disneyland yet or what?”

“Not yet.” Daisy grinned at Carl Joseph. “One day very, very soon.”

The two of them sat down as Gus jumped to his feet and scrambled to the front.

“Gus… you want to go next?” Elle moved in closer.

“Yes.” He said it more like a question, and instantly he returned to his seat. “Sorry, Teacher.” He raised his hand.

“Gus?”

“Can I go now?”

“Yes.”

The training continued for the better part of an hour. Each student was progressing toward some form of independent living—either in a group home or in a supervised setting with daily monitoring. Already twelve graduates had moved on to find independence. They attended twice-weekly night sessions so that they could hold jobs during the daytime.

Elle leaned against the wall and watched Gus begin a dramatic story about playing a game of chess with Brian, a redhead who at sixteen was the youngest student. After Gus had received a standing ovation for his story, they heard a poem by Tammy, the girl with long braids—Sonnet Number 43 by Elizabeth Barrett Browning.

When the girl struggled with one line, Carl Joseph stood and went to her side. He pointed at the paper and put his arm around her shoulders. “You can do it,” he whispered to her. “Go on.”

Daisy raised an eyebrow but she didn’t say anything.

Tammy was shaking when she finally found her place and continued. Her next few sentences were painfully slow, but she didn’t give up. Carl Joseph wouldn’t let her. When the poem was finished, Carl Joseph led her back to her spot on the sofa, then returned to his own.

Finally Sid told them about a movie his dad had taken him to see, something with dark caves and missing animals and a king whose kingdom had turned against him. The plot was too difficult to follow, but somehow Sid managed a question-and-answer time at the end.

They worked on table manners next, and before Elle had time to look at the clock, it was three and parents were arriving to pick up their students.

Elle spotted Daisy and Carl Joseph near the window waiting for his mother. She went to them and patted her sister on the back. “Nice dance today.”

“Thanks.” Daisy grinned. “Carl Joseph has good news.”

“You do?” Elle looked at the young man. There was an ocean of kindness in his eyes. “What’s your good news, Carl Joseph?”

“My brother.” He flashed a gap-toothed smile. “Brother’s coming home tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Elle put her hand on Carl Joseph’s shoulder. He’d talked about his brother before. The guy was older than Carl
Joseph, and he rode bulls. Or maybe he used to ride bulls. Elle wasn’t sure. Whatever he did, the way Carl Joseph talked about him he might as well have worn a cape and a big S on his chest. She smiled. “How wonderful.”

Carl Joseph nodded. “It is.” His voice boomed. He pushed his glasses back into place. “It’s so wonderful!”

“CJ… shhh.” Daisy patted his hand. “We can hear you.”

“Right.” He covered his mouth with one hand and held up a single finger with the other. “Sorry.”

Elle glanced at the circular drive out front. It was empty. She settled into a chair opposite Daisy and Carl Joseph. “Does your brother still ride bulls?”

“No… not anymore.”

“Did he get tired of it?” Elle could imagine a person might grow weary of being thrown from a bull.

“No.” Carl Joseph’s eyes were suddenly sad. “He got hurt.”

Daisy nodded. “Bad.”

“Oh.” Elle felt a slice of concern for Carl Joseph’s brother. “Is he okay now?”

Carl Joseph squinted and seemed to mull over his answer. “After he got hurt, he rode bulls for another season. But then he didn’t want to.” He raised one shoulder and cocked his head. “Brother’s still hurt; that’s what I think.”

“What’s his name?” Elle spotted Carl Joseph’s mother’s car coming up the drive.

“Cody Gunner.” Carl Joseph’s pride was as transparent as his smile. “World-famous bull rider Cody Gunner. My brother.”

Elle smiled. She was always struck by her students’
imagination. Carl Joseph’s brother was probably an accountant or a sales rep at some firm in Denver. Maybe he rode a bull once in his life, but that didn’t make him a bull rider. But that didn’t matter, of course. All that counted was the way Carl Joseph saw him.

“Your mom’s here, CJ.” Daisy pointed at the car. She stood and took Carl Joseph’s hand. “It’s your big day. Your brother’s coming home tomorrow.”

Carl Joseph’s cheeks grew red and he giggled at Daisy. “Thank you, Daisy. For telling me that.”

They walked off together, and at the door Daisy gave him a hug. They hadn’t crossed lines beyond that, and Elle was glad. Their relationship needed to progress slowly. What they shared today was enough for now. As the last few students left, she and Daisy straightened chairs and tables and closed up for the day.

On the way home, Daisy was quieter than usual. Finally she took a big breath. “We should pray for Carl Joseph’s brother. For the world-famous bull rider.”

Elle was heading down the two-lane highway that led to their new house. “Because he might still be hurt?”

“Yeah, that.” She furrowed her brow. “It’s hard when you get hurt.”

“Yes, it is.” Elle looked at her empty hand, the finger where her ring had been four years earlier. “Very hard.”

Daisy pointed at her. “You pray, Elle. Okay?”

“Okay.” Elle kept her eyes on the road. “Dear God, please be with Carl Joseph’s brother.”

“Cody Gunner.” Daisy opened one eye and shot a look at Elle.

“Right. Cody Gunner.”

“World-famous bull rider.” Daisy closed her eyes again and patted Elle’s hand. “Say it all.”

“Cody Gunner, world-famous bull rider.” Elle allowed the hint of a smile. “Please help him get well so he isn’t hurt anymore.”

“In Jesus’ name.”

“Amen.”

For the rest of the ride Elle thought about the anniversary of a moment that never happened, and the picture of Daisy dancing in Carl Joseph’s arms. The world would look at her and Daisy and think that Elle was the gifted one, the blessed one. Elle, who had it all together, the beautiful, intelligent daughter for whom life should’ve come easily and abundantly. Daisy—she was the one to be pitied. Short and stout with a bad heart and weak vision. A castaway in a world of perfectionism, where the prize went to high achievers and people with talent, star athletes and beauty queens. Daisy was doomed from birth to live a life of painful emptiness, mere existence.

Better to be Elle, that’s what the world would say.

But the irony was this: Nothing could’ve been further from the truth.

Chapter Two

C
ody Gunner sat next to professional bull riding’s best-known cowboy and tried to find the passion for another go-round. They were in Nampa, Idaho, the last day before a six-week break. Cody wasn’t signed up for the second half of the season. The way he felt now, he wasn’t sure he was coming back.

“Folks, we’ve got a ton o’ fun in this first bull.” Sky Miller, four-time national champion, sat on Cody’s right. He was the primary announcer for tonight’s event. Cody would handle color. “No bull rider’s lasted eight on Jack Daniels since February in Jacksonville.”

Cody looked to the side, to the place where the barrel racers would’ve been warming up back in the days when the best bull riders rode the Professional Rodeo Cowboys Association circuit, back when he and Ali had toured together during that handful of amazing seasons.

Good thing he’d switched over to the PBR, the way most
of the bull riders had. Here there were no blonde horseback riders tearing around the barrels, making him think even for a fraction of a moment that somehow—against all odds—she was here, in the same arena with him. The way she had been all those seasons ago.

“What do you say about Joe Glass, Cody? One of the tough guys, right?” The glance from Sky told him he’d missed his cue.

“One of the toughest.” Cody grabbed a sheet and scanned it for the bull rider’s information. “Joe’s won three events this year and stayed on more than half the bulls he’s drawn. That’s one reason why he’s sitting pretty at Number Nine in the overall standings.”

Cody stayed focused for the next nine riders. When the network went to a longer break, he stretched. “Sorry ’bout that.” He patted Sky on the shoulder. “Something to drink?”

“Coke. Thanks.” Sky gave him a wary look. “You somewhere else tonight, Gunner?”

“Maybe.” Cody took a few steps back.

The legend held his eyes for a beat. He knew better than to ask if the reason had something to do with Ali. It was common knowledge in the rodeo world that Cody hadn’t gotten over her.
There goes Cody Gunner,
they’d say.
Poor Cody. Still pining away over that wife of his.
Yeah, he’d heard it all, the whispers and well-intentioned remarks about moving on and letting go. That was okay. Cody climbed down seven stairs to the dirt-covered arena floor. Let them think he was crazy for holding on this long.

They hadn’t loved Ali. Otherwise they’d understand.

It was eight years ago that they’d shared their last season on the circuit. Back when her cystic fibrosis had seemed like merely one more mountain they’d need to climb on the road to forever. Not like the eliminator it turned out to be. He steeled himself and stared at the ground as he walked back to the network food tent.

He and Ali had that one last season, and then they married. Cody gave her everything he had to give that year—his heart and soul, a lifetime of love, and one of the lungs from his own chest. “What happened?” people would ask when they heard about the lung. “You gave her a lung and it didn’t take?”

Cody would only narrow his eyes and remember Ali, her honesty, the depth in her voice. “It worked.” That’s all he would say.
It worked
. Because it did. The doctors had told them the transplant would buy them only three years. And in the end that’s exactly what it did. Three years. About a thousand tomorrows.

He would’ve given her his other lung, if he could’ve.

“Gunner!” The voice was familiar.

Cody looked up and into the eyes of Bo Wade, a cowboy Cody had competed against that last year—after Ali died, when Cody came out of retirement to do it all one more time, to win the championship for her, the one Ali never managed to win. Bo was in the top five back then, but he had hung it up a few years ago. Cody held out his hand and found a smile. “Bo Wade, watcha up to?”

“Workin’ for the network.” He grinned. “Hoping to be in your spot someday.”

“Yeah.” Cody grinned. “Same old story.”

They talked for a minute or two about the season and the rise of the PBR. “Things are different now.”

“No doubt.” Cody checked his watch. He had ten minutes to report back. “Some of those bulls are wicked mean.”

“And huge. Makes you wonder what they’re puttin’ in the feed.”

Cody was about to wind up the conversation when it happened.

Bo’s expression changed. He looked down at his dusty boots and then back up again. “Hey, man. I’m sorry about Ali. I never got to tell you.”

Cody’s breath caught in his throat, the way it always did at the mention of her. He’d tried a lot of different answers when people brought her into the conversation. He would sometimes shrug and say, “Things happen,” or he’d look up at the bluest piece of sky and say, “She’s still with us. I can feel her.” Once in a while he’d say, “She’s never really gone.” All those things were true, but for the past year he’d kept his answer simpler.

“Thanks, Bo.” Cody squinted. “I miss her like crazy.”

“I bet.” The corners of Bo’s mouth lifted. There was no awkwardness between them. The two had ridden the circuit together for five years. That made them family on a lot of levels. “I remember back before the two of you got together.” He shook his head. “Nothing could stop you like seeing Ali Daniels on a horse.” He paused. “We had no idea she was sick.”

“No one did.” The conversation was too painful, the
subject still too raw. Cody clenched his jaw. “Good seeing you.” He shook his friend’s hand again and nodded toward the arena. “Gotta get back.”

“Okay.” Bo slapped Cody’s shoulder. “Take it easy, man. Maybe see you around the second half of the season. The network just made me permanent tech advisor.”

Cody congratulated him, found a Coke and a bottle of water, and headed back to the booth. He kept his eyes straight ahead, but all he could see was Ali, her blonde ponytail flying behind her, racing around the barrels on Ace, her palomino, or standing in the tunnel after a ride, gasping for air while Cody brought her the inhaler. Ali in her compression vest back at the ranch her family owned. Ali beside him on a grassy bluff promising to love him until death had the final word.