A Thousand Tomorrows / Just Beyond the Clouds Page 8

  “Thanks for talking.” He slid his hands into his pockets again. “Go in and get warm.”

  He hesitated, and she wondered if he was going to hug her. But then he took two steps back and tipped his hat. “Good night, Ali.”

  “Good night.”

  She was inside before she acknowledged the subtle ache in her chest. She was breathless, flushed, the way she felt when she needed her inhaler. Only this time the feeling was different, and Ali knew why. She wasn’t breathless because of the night air or the long day or the battles she fought with cystic fibrosis.

  She was breathless because of Cody Gunner.

  ALI DROVE HIM in ways he didn’t dare tell her.

  That first night was the beginning of many. Through summer and into fall, for the rest of the season, Cody was driven by a different set of feelings. He enjoyed the bulls more, embracing the adrenaline rush and smiling more often when he lasted eight seconds. After a good ride, he would raise his fists to the crowd and grin at their applause, or toss his hat at a bull that had given him a winning ride. For the first time, Cody identified with the other cowboys on the tour. It was a rush, riding bulls, a rush Cody had missed too often in the years when every ride was consumed with thoughts of his father.

  Now, when the familiar anger kicked in while he was lowering himself onto a bull, when it churned in his gut and made him grit his teeth during his final seconds in the chute, it was less about his father than something else, something new.

  A lung disease called cystic fibrosis.

  He and Ali talked about everything, and their talks became a lifeline, the difference Ali made in his life too big to measure. Because of her, he didn’t go through the day angry, he didn’t waste the nights putting out the embers of hatred with a six-pack. Rather he spent his days waiting for the one night each weekend when he and Ali could be together.

  Always he’d known that if he fell for a girl, his riding days would be numbered. Because love was a light that wouldn’t allow darkness to reign in his soul. And without the darkness, what reason did he have to battle it? To get in the arena with a snorting beast and fight for his life? Without the rage? There would be no point.

  But with Ali it was different.

  What he felt for her was more pure and honest, more intense. And it made everything about riding bulls more intense, too. It wasn’t love, not in the conventional sense. His feelings for Ali were deeper, stronger, the same sort of emotions he felt for Carl Joseph. He would’ve protected Ali Daniels if it meant jumping in front of a train or taking a bullet in the chest.

  Feelings that strong.

  As the season played out, the two of them stayed near the top of the leaderboards. Since talk on the tour flowed like cheap wine, Cody kept his distance during the day. Neither of them wanted their names linked for any reason other than the obvious—they were both among the best in the business.

  But at night, after the championship buckles had been handed out and the crowds had gone home, Ali and Cody would sneak out and take their places in the familiar chairs in front of her trailer. There they opened themselves to a world neither of them had ever known before.

  The world of friendship.

  He told her the story of his childhood, how his father had left, and how there would always be the struggle to forgive the man. Some of the more private details he kept to himself, sparing her the part about Carl Joseph’s handicap and running after his father’s cab and how he felt no connection with his mother.

  Still, what he did share was more than he’d ever told anyone.

  No matter how late they stayed up, whispering in the moonlight, they never ran out of things to talk about. Once in a while a comfortable silence would fall between them and Ali would smile at him, her eyes dancing.

  “You aren’t chasing me, right?”

  He would raise his eyebrows in mock surprise. “Chase you?” His chin would lift a few inches. “Come on, Ali. I don’t chase girls. You know that.”

  “Good.” She’d pull her feet up, her voice full of teasing. “I don’t want to be caught, remember?”

  “Yes, Ali, I remember.” He’d hold his hands up in surrender. “You’re safe with me; I don’t want to be caught either.”

  Ali Daniels was the most serious girl he’d ever known. But after a few weeks, he found ways to make her laugh. Before turning in for the night they’d sometimes be in tears from trying to stifle their bouts of laughter, keeping quiet so they wouldn’t wake her mother.

  By the end of the season they both qualified for the National Finals Rodeo in Las Vegas. Usually after a long year, Cody was anxious to get to the NFR, ready to take a shot at the title and head home. But this year he had no home to go back to. His father had moved in, and from what his mother said he was sleeping in Cody’s bedroom. There was even talk that the two of them might get remarried. Apparently, Carl Joseph was thrilled.

  Cody wanted nothing to do with any of them.

  So instead of looking forward to the season finale, he was dreading it. Ali was coughing harder, looking tired more often. She wanted a national championship in the worst way, but her times had been a whole second or two slower in the past weeks. They would compete like crazy and when the final buzzer sounded he had no idea what he was going to do.

  But that wasn’t why he was dreading the final. He dreaded it because after the finals he wouldn’t see Ali again until late January in Denver. The truth was something he recognized. He could barely last a week without her.

  How was he going to survive two months?

  Chapter Nine

  For Ali Daniels, there was no worse place to compete than Las Vegas.

  A constant wind blew across the desert floor, stirring up dirt and pushing the smog from one side of the valley to the other. The National Finals Rodeo was held at the Thomas and Mack Center, a huge indoor arena that sat more than fifteen thousand fans. Not only would the dirt be softer, more likely to fill the air, but NFR organizers used indoor fireworks before each day’s events.

  And the NFR didn’t happen in a weekend like other rodeos throughout the year. It ran ten days straight. Ten days of racing barrels through dust and fireworks smoke and the stuffy confines of one of the biggest indoor arenas of the year. Even the locker rooms were worse, because officials at the University of Nevada at Las Vegas covered the tunnel and locker room floors with plastic. That meant the dirt wasn’t packed down the way it was in most arenas.

  No wonder she hadn’t done well at her first two NFR showings.

  This year, though, she had a plan. She would wear the compression vest ninety minutes, three times a day. The longer she spent in the vest, the more relief she felt, and the longer that relief lasted.

  It was the first day.

  She and her mother had found a nice spot at Sam’s Town for their trailer, an oversized space with trees along one side. Ali liked that; it would give her and Cody privacy for their late-night talks. Cody had a room at the hotel next door, so after the rodeo each night, they wouldn’t have trouble meeting up.

  Ali slipped on her vest and zipped it up. She and her mother had spent the past two weeks at home, the first three days in the hospital. The doctor’s warnings were just as strong as before, but he stopped short of badgering her. When the season was over, when she had her national championship in hand, then she could think about quitting.

  Not until then.

  She flipped on the compression switch and felt the vest fill up. At the same time, the door opened and her mother walked in, a bag of groceries in her arms.

  “Again?” She set the bag down and began unloading it. “Didn’t you get an hour earlier?”

  “Ninety minutes. I’m going longer for the next ten days.”

  Her mother was quiet, unusually so. She finished putting away the food and took the chair opposite Ali. “Honey, we need to talk.”

  Ali felt her heart skip a beat. Her mother was easy. Whatever hardships being on the Pro Rodeo Tour caused, however difficult it was being
away from home, her mother never let on. She wanted Ali to be happy. It was the reason she’d agreed to travel with her in the first place. But the concern written into her expression now was something Ali almost never saw.

  “What’s wrong, Mama?”

  A tired breath made its way from her. “I was in line at the store, and two bull riders were in front of me.”

  Two bull riders? Ali wasn’t sure what to say. She waited for her mother to continue.

  “They were talking about Cody Gunner. One of them laughed about how tame he was these days, none of the partying and loose women he used to associate with.”

  Ali had a feeling about what was coming. But how could anyone have known? They hadn’t so much as shared a conversation in front of the other riders. She swallowed. “Okay… I guess that’s good, right?”

  “There’s more.” Her shoulders dropped a notch. “The other cowboy said, ‘You know what happened to Cody, right?’ And the first guy nodded and said, ’Ali Daniels, that’s what happened to him.’ ”

  She blinked, searching her mind’s list of possible replies.

  “I’m with you all the time in the arena, Ali. Ever since that first night when you and Cody talked, I’ve watched you and seen nothing. Absolutely nothing between you.” She turned her hands palms up. “Have I missed something? Are you dating that boy behind my back?”

  Her secret meetings with Cody were never supposed to be anything but temporary, small chances for a friendship that had made the entire last half of the season her best days of all. From the first she’d looked for a way to tell her mother about her time with Cody.

  Now she was getting her chance. She cleared her throat. “We’re not dating, obviously. You’d know if I was.”

  “Then what? Why would they say that?”

  “Because…” The vest made it harder to talk in whole sentences. She didn’t want Cody to come between them. She closed her eyes tight and then opened them, her tone flat. “Because sometimes Cody comes by our trailer at night.”

  It took a minute for Ali’s words to sink in. “What?” Her mother’s voice was tight, disbelieving. “After I’m asleep?”

  “Yes.” Ali winced. Sometimes she had to remind herself. The vest wasn’t squeezing the life out of her; it was pressing life back into her. “Yes, after you’re asleep he comes by and we… we sit outside in the folding chairs.”

  Her mother’s expression was a study in control. Shock and surprise added to the fine lines around her eyes. She wasn’t angry. Hurt, maybe, but not angry. For a while the only sound between them was the steady rhythmic whirring of the vest as it worked on her lungs. What was she thinking? Was she disappointed, frustrated? Was she ready to take the two of them home for good?

  Finally Ali couldn’t handle another minute. “Mama? Say something.”

  Her mother leaned her elbows on the arms of the chair and looked at Ali. “Do you love him?”

  The question made Ali hesitate, and that hesitation terrified her more than anything her mother could’ve said or done. Did she love him? Of course not, right? The idea was absurd, falling in love with a reckless bull rider like Cody Gunner.

  But then why did she hesitate?

  Ali ran her tongue over her lower lip. “No, Mama, it’s not like that. He’s my friend; nothing more.”

  Her mother’s words were calm, deliberate. “Then why hide your visits? Did you think I wouldn’t approve?”

  “Do you?” Ali’s answer was sharper than she intended. Her heart melted and she felt her expression soften. “I kept thinking about what you said. Heaven forbid it be someone like Cody Gunner. I didn’t think you’d want me talking to him.”

  Her mother drew a slow breath, her eyes searching Ali’s. “How much have you told him?”

  If she was going to be honest, she couldn’t stop now. “Everything. He knows about my CF.”

  “Well…” her mother slid back in her chair. She turned it so she was facing the opposite window. “It’ll be all over the tour by January, if it’s not already out there. If that’s what you want, then I guess it’s okay if—”

  “Mama!” Ali was supposed to relax when the vest was on, work with the compressions so they were more effective. But she was too upset to relax. She flipped the switch and the machine fell silent. “Turn around and look at me. Please!”

  Her mother spun around. “Don’t use that tone with me, young lady. Cody Gunner’s reputation precedes him. In the arena and out. He’s not your type, not our type.”

  “Be quiet, Mama.” Ali’s voice rang with passion. “You don’t know him. He won’t tell a soul about my CF.” She pressed her hand against her chest. “He’d do anything for me. Anything at all.”

  Her mother’s mouth hung open. “Dear me.” The words were the slightest whisper. “You’re in love with him and you don’t even know it.”

  “I’m not in love with him. He’s my friend. The first friend I’ve had since I started riding professionally.” Ali’s throat was tight, her lungs heavier than usual. “Can’t I have that, Mama? One single friend?”

  For years, her mother had been forced to hold back her opinions, forced to let Ali make her own decisions about the way she spent her time. Even when those decisions might take years off her life. Now, Ali could see the same struggle playing out. Her mother didn’t want Cody Gunner around any more than she wanted Ali on a horse.

  She crossed the small space between them and knelt at Ali’s feet. With gentle movements, while her eyes filled with tears, she put her hand on top of Ali’s knee. “I’m sorry, honey. I never meant to upset you.”

  Ali put her arms around her mother’s neck. “I don’t love him, Mama. I promise.” Tears filled her own eyes, because it wasn’t fair. She was twenty years old and she wouldn’t see thirty. Tears because her mother had given so much, and now she was afraid Ali would somehow share what was left of her time with Cody Gunner.

  “It’s your life, Ali.” She whispered the words against Ali’s cheek. “I promised you a long time ago—I won’t tell you how to live it.”

  There it was. The bottom line, the thing her mother always said whenever they had these discussions. After Anna’s death, when the idea of horseback riding seemed suicidal, time and again when Dr. Cleary insisted that barrel racing would cut years off her life, and now—when Ali wanted the green light for a friendship with Cody Gunner.

  Ali closed her eyes and a stream of hot tears spilled onto her cheeks. Her mother’s words ran through her mind again. It’s your life, Ali… I won’t tell you how to live it. Exactly what she needed to hear.

  “It’s okay, honey.” Her mother took her hand and squeezed it three times. Their silent way of saying the three most important words of all, I love you. “It’s okay.”

  She sniffed and blinked her eyes open. “Can I have him come earlier tonight? Before you go to bed.”

  “Yes.” Her mother reached out and dried her cheeks. “I’d like that.”

  Ali took second that night, putting her in position to make a run for the championship. She had only a minute to pull Cody aside and tell him about the conversation with his mother.

  “She must hate me for keeping you out late.”

  “No.” Ali shook her head. “Give her a chance. She’s on our side, Cody. Really. Come by early tonight; you’ll see.”

  At 10:30 he knocked on their trailer door, and Ali let her mother answer it.

  “Cody.” Her mother hesitated, but her voice was warm. “Come in.”

  From the back of the table where she sat, Ali felt herself relax. Everything was going to be fine, once her mother got to know him.

  “Yes, ma’am.” Cody’s voice rang with cowboy respect. “Thank you.”

  Ali’s mother stepped back and gestured toward the small table where Ali was sitting. “How’d you ride tonight, Cody?”

  “I took third, ma’am. The bull could’ve been better.”

  “We’ll be pulling for a better draw tomorrow.” She gave him a smile that eased t
he tension. “Iced tea?”

  “Yes, ma’am, that’d be nice.” Cody shot a nervous glance at Ali. “I appreciate you having me.”

  Ali’s mother was at the small refrigerator, pouring three glasses of tea. “Well…” She looked at him over her shoulder. “It’s about time you saw the inside of our trailer.”

  The silence was interrupted by Ali’s giggles, and not long after, her mother and Cody joined in. After that, the ice was broken. Their evening visits continued to be early every night that week, and always, sometime around eleven, Ali’s mother would turn in. Ali would get into her sweatshirt, and she and Cody would find their familiar places in the chairs outside.

  Over the next few days, most of their talk was about the competition. Cody held a strong second place, but Ali was frustrated with her times. She wasn’t riding as fast as before, and she didn’t know why. Her times had her sitting at fourth overall, but she would need a few first-place finishes in the remainder of the races if she were to have a chance at the championship.

  “You’re still holding your breath?” Cody was sitting beside her, closer than when they first started meeting together.

  “Definitely.” She frowned and stared straight ahead. “I do the ride in my mind a hundred times a day; I can’t figure out how to catch that extra step.”

  “Hmmm.” Cody stretched his legs out and folded his hands behind his head, the way she was familiar with now. A grin started in his eyes and made its way down to his mouth. “Someone once told me the secret was anticipation.” He bumped her arm with his elbow. “Sound familiar?”

  She chuckled, careful to be quiet. “Must’ve been someone smart.”

  “Yes.” He tapped her head, letting his fingers run along her hair for a few seconds. “And did I mention focus. She thinks focus helps, too.”

  “Ah, yes. Focus.” Ali did an exaggerated frown. Focus had been easier before, back when her mind didn’t share time between racing and thinking about her conversations with Cody Gunner.

  At most rodeos they talked for a few hours a weekend. At this one, they were together that long every night. By the sixth day, she met him outside the arena.