“It’ll get harder to breathe. Harder every day.” He angled his head, his expression as honest as it was anguished. “You’ll know, Ali.”
Three days later, they brought Ali back to the ranch, and the doctor was right. Her breathing grew worse, labored by heavy bouts of coughing that nothing could touch. Not her compression vest or medication or even the prayers Cody and her parents uttered constantly on her behalf.
Cody took to sleeping light, in case she needed him. A glass of water, a cold cloth, or the comfort of his arms around her. One morning, Cody was half asleep when he felt her hand on his shoulder.
“Cody?” She was wheezing, her breathing shallow. “Wake up.”
“What?” His eyes were open before she finished his name. He sat up, his heart pounding in his throat.
She met his eyes, the intensity between them so deep, so strong it hurt. “Take me out on Ace.” A smile just barely lifted the corners of her mouth. “Please.”
Cody hesitated. He wanted to tell her no, she was in no shape to go outdoors, let alone on a horse. But he couldn’t. This determination, the will to live no matter the cost, it was part of what he loved about her.
“Okay.” He took her hand, helped her to her feet, and found two sweatshirts for her. She was thinner than she’d ever been, and cold most of the time. Some days she wore multiple layers and a jacket. But the air had warmed over the past week, so two should be enough.
Together, without saying anything, they headed for the barn.
Rain would’ve fit the feelings in Cody’s heart, but the morning was clear. Sunshine splashed across the bluest sky of spring and only a few puffy clouds hovered near the distant mountains. Leaves were unfurling from the branches of the oak trees, and clumps of grass grew thick and bright green at the base of the pines on the north side of the house. Everywhere, new life was springing up across the ranch.
Everywhere except in Ali.
Cody kept his arm around her as they walked, protecting her, letting her determine the pace. He was horrified at the changes in her from the day before. She was slower, her steps shaky, a pasty gray had taken over her complexion. And the rattling in her chest didn’t go away no matter how often she stopped to cough.
Fear tried to push its way between them, but Cody refused it. If Ali wanted this, he would give it to her. And with everything in him he would pretend things were different, that they were heading out for a ride because the bright spring morning demanded it.
They were almost to the barn doors when Ali turned to him. “Thanks, Cody. This means a lot.”
He smiled at her because he couldn’t talk.
Once inside, Ace looked up and whinnied, soft and curious. Cody had been taking care of him, riding him when Ali slept in the afternoon. But this was the first time she’d seen him since just after Christmas. When they were a few feet away, Cody let her take the lead.
“Hey, Ace.” Ali pushed herself, her pace stronger than before. She opened the gate, and when she was inside she put her arms around his neck.
The horse responded, softer this time. He turned his head, brushing his chin against the side of her face.
She rested her head against his mane. “Ace… I missed you, boy.”
Cody’s throat was so thick, he could barely breathe. This was the horse Ali had raised from birth, the one she had broken and trained and taken across the country three times over. Ali had once told him that Ace understood things a horse shouldn’t understand. When it was a big rodeo, when a championship or high-stake prize money was up for grabs, Ace would sense her excitement and give her a ride equal to the task. Likewise, he sensed when she was sick and responded with a gentler ride.
Watching now, Cody knew it was true.
There were tears in her eyes when she turned to him. “Ready?”
He gave a short nod and went to work. Once Ace was saddled, Cody climbed on and helped her up in front of him, the way he’d done so many times before. Often when they’d ride around the ranch together, he’d hold the reins by putting his arms around her waist. But this time he handed them to her.
Ali set out at a trot, but as she left the area around the corral, she broke into a run. Not the all-out record-breaking run she and Ace were capable of, but a gentle run that mixed grace and strength and restraint with every stride. He held tight to her, willing her to breathe, to survive this ride without anything worse happening.
It took only a few minutes to realize where she was going. She was taking Ace on the familiar route, the one around the perimeter of the ranch. Cody’s heart kept time with the pounding rhythm of the horse’s hooves. What if Ali couldn’t catch her breath? What if she fainted, too far from the house to get help? Why had he agreed to the ride without telling her parents where they were going?
Halfway around—near the back fence—she brought Ace to a stop and fell back against his chest. “Ali?” He took hold of her shoulders and leaned his face in close. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Her breathing was hard and fast, but it wasn’t raspy like it had been back at the barn. “I feel wonderful.”
The tension in his muscles eased some. “Can you breathe? Maybe we should get back just in case you—”
“Cody.” She angled herself so she could see him. “I’m fine.” She pressed her shoulder into him, and turned Ace so she could see back across the expanse of her parents’ ranch. “The day after Anna’s funeral, I sat in my bedroom alone. Nothing felt right, so I walked to the window and looked out at all the grassy meadows and bushes, beyond our ranch to the neighbor’s farm.”
He pictured the scene, studying her so he wouldn’t miss a word.
“The neighbor had a palomino horse; every day Anna used to dream of riding him. Only she never got the chance.” Ali lifted her eyes to an evergreen a few feet away. “So that day I snuck out of the house and ran through the grass and past the bushes.” There was a smile in her voice. “And I knew, I just knew Anna was watching me.”
He waited, his fingertips light along her outside arm.
“From the moment I stood next to that horse, I was sure I’d never go back indoors.” She smiled up at him. “Except to sleep.”
“You’re a fighter.” He kissed the top of her head.
“I told myself no matter what happened I’d have no regrets.” She looked at him again. “But I was wrong.”
He shook his head. “No, Ali.”
“Yes.” Her eyes held his. “My only regret is that maybe…” Her voice cracked. She brought her hand to her throat and hesitated. “Maybe if I’d stayed inside more, I could’ve had more time with you.”
“Ali…”
“I just wanted you to know that.” She sat up a little straighter. The familiar wheezing was there, but it was better than it had been in days. She held his eyes with hers. “Every time you ride Ace, every time you look at him, I want you to see me, Cody. I want you to remember how every day with you was a gift. You…” She swallowed, her voice tight. “If you hadn’t chased me, I never would’ve caught you.”
“Oh, I see.” Cody leaned his chin on top of her head, his tone easy. “You caught me, is that it?”
“I was keeping it a secret.” She giggled, but the effort led to a short bout of coughing. When she caught her breath she folded her hands around his. “This is my last time out, Cody. The doctor was right.”
Cody’s heart beat faster. “Ali, please.” He shook his head. “Don’t say that.”
“It is.” She drew a long breath, one that made her wince. “The doctor said I’d know, and I do. I knew this morning.”
Tears blurred Cody’s vision and he blinked hard. Was she right? Was this the last time Ali Daniels would sit on a horse, the blazing Ali Daniels? He remembered her question. “I’ll always see you, Ali.” He snuggled closer to her. “How could I see Ace and not see you?”
She smiled. “My mama always said we looked alike, me and Ace. I guess it’s the blonde hair.”
They were quiet for a while. Cody wil
led his anxious soul to settle down, but it wasn’t listening. He couldn’t get the thought out of his mind. What if she was right? What if this really was her last ride? The possibility made him crazy with fear.
After a few minutes, Ali took hold of the reins. “Ready?”
“No.” He wanted to scream at the heavens, jump off Ace, and run until he couldn’t take another step. No. A million times no. He would never be ready to leave their private shared world of horses and open ranchland and April blue sky. He couldn’t believe for a minute that this was the last time he and Ali would ride together, the last time he would feel her body against his as they pounded out an ageless rhythm across the fields.
“Cody?” She looked over her shoulder at him. Her breathing was getting worse.
“Okay.” He pressed his cheek against hers and closed his eyes.
The whole way back he kept his arms around her waist, his eyes shut, memorizing the feel of her as her back brushed against his chest, the sensation of her silky blonde hair dusting his cheeks.
Just before they turned into the barn, she pulled to a stop. Ace must’ve sensed she was in trouble, because he lifted his head, offering her his neck to lean against. She smoothed his blonde mane and patted the side of his head. “Attaboy, Ace.”
She turned to Cody. “I read something the other day.”
He moved his hands up from her waist, running his fingers along her arms again. “Hmmm?”
She looked away and coughed twice. “It was a quote from some guy.” A hawk circled overhead and she raised her eyes toward it. “He’s dead now.”
“Too bad.” Cody kept his voice even. He hated talking about death. “What’s the quote?”
“Before he died, he told people, ‘Soon you will read in the newspaper that I am dead. Don’t believe it for a moment. I will be more alive than ever before.’ ” She looked at him, beyond his confident facade to the terrified places of his soul. “That’s what I want you to say about me, okay, Cody? Tell everyone.”
“Ali…” He placed his hand on her cheek and cradled her head against his chest. If only she could stay this way, safe in his arms.
“I mean it.” She covered his fingers with hers. “It won’t be long. Tell them I’m not dead, I’m alive.” She hesitated and when she talked again there was a smile in her voice. “Tell them I’m riding with Anna, chasing her across the fields and playing hide-and-seek in the bushes. Okay, Cody?”
“Do you…” He didn’t want to say the words. “Do you really think it’s soon?”
“Yes.” She coughed again, and the struggle was back with every breath. “Will you tell them?”
He turned himself toward her, framed her face with his hands and kissed her, a kiss that willed life into her, one that wanted her to be wrong about the timing. But he wouldn’t keep her waiting, not for another moment. He pulled back and searched her eyes. “I’ll tell them.”
“Thank you, Cody.” She pulled the reins to one side and headed into the barn.
He climbed off first and then helped her down. She walked around and stood in front of Ace, the horse she’d ridden and counted on and competed with for a decade. Ace, who for years had been her only friend.
For a long time she stared at her horse. Then she leaned in, looped her arms around his neck and kissed him on the bridge of his nose. “Be good, Ace.”
With a single step, she turned to Cody and fell into his arms. Her tears came then, waves of them. Wrapped in his embrace, she shook, ripped apart by a sorrow that knew no limits.
He rubbed her back, and when she had control again, she looked up. “I’m not sad.”
A half smile raised his lips. “I can tell.”
She made a sound, but it was more cry than laugh. She brought her fingers to her mouth and shook her head. “What I mean is, I didn’t sit in a room and watch life through a window.” She held on to his shoulders and kissed him. “I didn’t win a national championship, but I did everything else I ever dreamed of doing. And now… I’m not afraid.” She smiled, her eyes warming him to the core. “I just wish”—her voice caught and she waited a beat—“I just wish I could take you with me.”
“Oh, Ali…” He forced himself to find his voice. “Me, too.”
Once more she glanced over her shoulder at Ace. Then she turned and held out her hand. “Take me in.”
She didn’t look back again after that.
Not when they left the barn or when they headed into her parents’ house through the back door. From the moment she was inside, her breathing grew worse, more strained with every passing hour. None of the usual methods brought her relief.
Her decline was swift and sure, and she slept through much of it.
By that evening, Cody was convinced. The ride earlier that day, their conversation, all of it had been a miracle, nothing less. Ali might not get better, but they’d been given one single, spectacular morning, a morning that would forever cast light on the broken places of his heart.
Dr. Cleary was contacted, but he gave Ali a choice. She could come to the hospital and have a few more days. Or she could stay home with her family. Ali chose to stay home. The days blurred, Ali fighting her disease the way she’d always fought it, with rolled up sleeves and gloves off.
“I’m trying to hold on, Cody,” she told him one night as he lay beside her, studying her. “I’m still trying.”
“I know.” He ran his fingers through her hair, willing life into her, believing that somehow, someway, they still had a chance. “Don’t ever stop; there’s still a chance.”
Ali smiled. “That’s what… I love about you.” She swallowed, every word a breathless struggle. “You never stop… believing in me.”
“No, baby, never.” He leaned in and brought his lips to hers. “You can do anything.”
“Hold me.”
He worked his hands beneath her shoulder blades and hugged her lightly. Any pressure on her chest would make it harder for her to breathe. “Stay with me, Ali.”
“I will.” She pressed her face to his. “I’ll just… never let go.”
She lived two days longer than Dr. Cleary thought possible, clinging to Cody and life, and promising to never stop.
But in the end it wasn’t enough.
On a clear late-April day, two weeks after their morning ride, Ali died in his arms.
For a long time—after her parents left the room and after someone had been called to come for her body—Cody held her, clinging to her, breathing in the smell of shampoo still fresh in her hair.
The media learned the story overnight. Hundreds of cowboys and barrel racers and organizers from the Pro Rodeo community attended the funeral. Ali Daniels was no longer a mystery, and they were collectively stunned at the truth, rallying together in their support of Cody and her family.
Cody’s parents and Carl Joseph flew in, too, surrounding Cody with a sort of love he had craved all his life.
Carl Joseph came up to him before the service. “Brother.” His lower lip quivered. “I’m sorry about Ali.”
“Thanks, buddy.” Cody crooked his arm around his younger brother and hugged him hard, rocking back and forth.
“She was a good horse rider.” Carl Joseph pulled back, his brow furrowed, sincerity and sorrow written in the lines of his face. He raised his hand and pointed to the sky. “Up there, you know what I hope?”
“What?” Cody still had one hand on his brother’s shoulder.
“I hope God gives her a horse.”
Cody closed his eyes and he could see Ali and Ace, running like the wind together, blazing a trail across the fields behind her house. He opened his eyes. “Me, too, buddy.” His throat ached from the sadness. “Me, too.”
Ali was everywhere that day.
She was in the eyes of her mother, quiet and stoic, mindless of the tears that streamed down her face. She was in the strength of her father, as he placed a bouquet of daisies on her coffin. And she was with Cody, also. In the way he took the microphone and talked about
Ali, her determination and grace.
“Ali wanted me to tell you something.” He looked at the crowd of familiar faces. “You think she’s dead, but don’t believe it.” Her voice played in his mind. “She is more alive now than ever before.”
She was there when he returned to his seat and took his mother’s hand, and again in the long hug he shared with his father.
Cody thought it fitting.
Ali had taught him to love; and now that love would be her legacy.
But she never taught him how to let go.
And when the funeral was over, when his parents and Carl Joseph boarded a plane and headed back home to Atlanta, something happened that Cody didn’t expect.
The old anger came back.
Or maybe it wasn’t the old anger, but a new, unfamiliar anger, a feeling of rage and helplessness and a strange sort of not knowing. Not knowing what to do or where to go or why he should climb out of bed or how he was ever supposed to feel right again.
Whatever it was, habit suggested he keep it inside.
He stayed the summer at her parents’ ranch, most of it on the back of Ace. Out on the ranch, missing her, doubts peppered him like springtime hail. Why wasn’t she allowed to live? Heaven would have her for eternity; all he’d wanted was a few decades.
And why hadn’t she won the national championship? Strange, but some days that bothered Cody most of all. One barrel? One lousy barrel had made the difference? It wasn’t right.
“Cody, we’re all missing her,” her mother would say every few days. “If you want to talk, I’m here.”
Every hour made the strange feelings inside him clearer, more intense. Finally he figured it out. The pain wasn’t anger at all; it was sorrow. A sorrow with fingers that sometimes squeezed his soul, creating an ache that spread from his chest to his shoulders and knees and feet. Other times sorrow was an ocean, deep and wide and vast, and he a lone swimmer, drowning, without any hope of reaching the shore.
Sorrow was a lot like anger.
He could hide it from people, but it was there when he woke up, and when he closed his eyes at night. And nothing, not the act of saddling Ace or tending the cattle or fixing fences or talking to Ali’s mother, made it any better. Cody Gunner knew only one way to deal with the pain.
A Thousand Tomorrows / Just Beyond the Clouds Page 18
