Sunrise (24 page)

They went a few more rounds before Landon stepped in and asked them to cool it. “No one knows yet. You can celebrate in a few months.”

“God knows.” Maddie stepped up to Landon and smiled. “Right, Uncle Landon?”

Landon grinned. “Okay, yes. God knows.”

Katy took her turn hugging Ashley and then Kari, congratulating them and repeating how happy she was for them. But as the reaction died down, as people made their way back to their seats for coffee and apple pie, she couldn’t help but feel a little envious. How long would it be before the announcement would be theirs?

She was slightly pensive even as Dayne drove her back to the Flanigans’ later that night. On the way they laughed about Jessie dropping an entire apple pie and offering to pick out the broken glass so people could still scoop some off the floor and eat it. But the double announcement was still in her thoughts.

“You’re thinking about something.” Dayne glanced at her as he pulled his 4Runner into the driveway. He reached for her hand. “What’s on your mind?”

“Mmmm.” Katy turned so she could see him better. “I was thinking about the babies.” She smiled and let herself get lost in Dayne’s eyes. “How wonderful for Ashley and Kari, being pregnant at the same time, having babies together. Going through all the stages side by side.”

“I thought you were feeling that.” Dayne placed his hands gently on either side of her face. “Wondering how long before it’s our turn.”

“We have a lot to get through first.” She whispered the words.

“But our day will come.” He kissed her, slow and tender. “God’s brought us this far. He’ll make it clear when it’s time to be parents.”

His nearness was making her feel dreamier about the here and now and less concerned with the future. She kissed him, a kiss that didn’t last long but one that made her heart beat faster. The talk about babies reminded her of the intimate moments, the passion that lay ahead for them. She breathed close to his ear, “I can’t wait. . . . Know what I mean?”

A soft groan came from his throat. He held her a little tighter than before and kissed her again. When he drew back, he searched her eyes, looked to the depths of her soul. “How can you ask? Every night I wish I could take you home with me.” He moved so there’d be space between them and leaned against the SUV door. The sigh that crossed his lips said that the struggle to honor her purity was one he wrestled with daily. He smiled and seemed to find a level of composure. “Which . . . is why we should talk about the wedding.”

Katy pinched her lips together and exhaled slowly. “Definitely.” She was grateful for Dayne’s commitment to honor her. Grateful beyond words. And at a time like this, he was right. Changing the subject was a better idea.

“What’s the latest from Wilma?” Katy leaned back too. As she did, she noticed that it was snowing. Not the usual hard, fast snow that could cover a front lawn in half an hour. But a slow-motion sort of snow with enormous flakes, floating and swirling in the glow of the Flanigans’ house light. “We’ve got the flowers figured out—white roses and baby’s breath—and the colors.”

“Cornflower and . . . coral.” Dayne angled his head, teasing her. “I think I have it now.” He said he liked the fresh and tropical colors, and he agreed they’d look great set against the white flowers. But until recently he kept calling them blue and orange. “Anyway, yes. Wilma called and told me that we’re on schedule. The things we’re asking for are available at the resort.”

Katy watched the snow for a minute. It was getting cold in the SUV, and she needed to get inside. They talked a few more minutes about the shopping she was going to do that week for bridesmaid dresses. Katy hadn’t found a wedding dress yet, but she was committed to finding one sometime soon.

Finally, Dayne walked her up to the door and wrapped his arms around her. “Thanks.”

“For what?” She snuggled close to him, wishing she didn’t have to go inside.

“The greatest Christmas ever.” His expression showed the depth of his sincerity. “I’ll never forget a minute of it.”

She pressed the side of her face against his. “It’s only going to get better.”

And it was true. Long after Dayne had driven away, Katy thought about the years ahead. They had so much to do before they could consider having a baby. The wedding and the rest of his movie contract. If she started a stint of acting alongside Dayne, then pregnancy could still be a long time away. But it would come. And one day—with the people they loved gathered around them—the announcement wouldn’t belong to Ashley or Kari or any of the others.

For now she would focus her thoughts on the joy she felt for Ashley and Kari and their incredible news about the babies who would be more than additions to the Baxter family.

They would be her nieces and nephews.

Jenny was worried about her daughter.

Their annual New Year’s Eve party was in full swing, and Bailey was somewhere in the house, visiting with the handful of friends who were willing to celebrate the new year without a keg of beer. Bryan Smythe was one of the teens who’d come over, his attention on Bailey.

But Jenny had heard things about the boy that troubled her. Brandon Reeves, one of the guys on the football team who didn’t drink at the Thanksgiving party, had stopped by last week and commented that he’d known Bryan for years. They’d played tennis in the same circles and attended the same middle school.

“I was sort of shocked when I heard him and Bailey were hanging out,” Brandon had told Jenny. “He’s changed a lot lately. Everyone knows it.”

Jenny had asked how Brandon could tell.

“Easy. He’s hitting on half a dozen girls. Bailey’s just one of them. Some of the girls aren’t . . . well . . . they aren’t the best girls. If you know what I mean.”

The news didn’t set well with Jenny. If Brandon was right, Bryan was capable of great manipulation. For a kid with a silver tongue, that could be a problem.

Brandon’s words replayed in Jenny’s mind tonight, and she made a point of walking around the house more than usual, working her way past the circles of neighbors and friends to the living room, where a dozen teens were gathered around the piano. Connor was playing music from
The Phantom of the Opera
, and two girls were standing near the piano singing.

Bryan was next to Bailey on the couch, his arm around her shoulders. That wouldn’t have bothered Jenny except for the look on Bailey’s face. She was smiling, but she looked tense—too tense for someone enjoying a party with a guy she liked.

“Hey, Mrs. Flanigan . . . those meatballs were the best.” Bryan grinned at her. “I’m always telling my mom if she could only learn to cook like you!”

Jenny smiled but not on the inside. “Thanks. But I’ll bet your mom’s pretty good too.”

“Well, either way.” He talked louder than anyone in the room. As if he wanted people to hear what he had to say. “As long as you’re cooking, I’ll be here, Mrs. Flanigan. You’re amazing.”

She gave him a pleasant nod and noticed Tim Reed sitting on the opposite side of the room. He’d been quiet all night, and Jenny had the feeling he was upset about Bryan, about the way he stayed by Bailey’s side and didn’t seem to let her visit with her other guy friends.

“Tim, come here for a minute.” Jenny motioned to him.

He hopped up and followed her into the dining room.

She found a bowl of noisemakers and handed them to him. “Can you pass these out when it’s closer to midnight?”

“Sure thing.” Tim was about to turn back to the living room, but then he stopped and lowered his voice. “Hey, what’s with Bryan Smythe?”

Jenny peered into the room, but from where they were standing, Bailey and Bryan weren’t visible. “I’m not sure. He’s been coming around a lot. Calling, texting. I think he likes her.”

“Looks mutual to me.” A depth showed in his eyes, one that he rarely exposed. “I thought Bailey was smarter than that.”

Jenny’s heart skipped a beat. “Why?”

“Haven’t you seen his MySpace?” Tim laughed, but the sound wasn’t the least bit funny. “Under occupation, he’s got
player
. And he isn’t talking about tennis. He also admits to smoking weed.”

A sense of alarm filled Jenny’s heart and throat. She was about to thank Tim, about to head back into the living room and ask Bailey to step outside for a talk. Never mind that it was twenty degrees outside. Bailey needed to know what Tim had seen on MySpace. But before she could make a move, Cody entered the dining room from the other side.

“Can I talk to you?” He noticed Tim and took half a step back. “I mean, if you have a minute.”

“I do.” Jenny turned to Tim. “Talk to her, okay? And pray for her.”

“I will.” Tim held her eyes a beat longer. “I pray for her all the time anyway.”

Jenny hesitated, and a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “I didn’t know that. Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

Tim left and Jenny went to Cody. He’d been doing great since he’d been out of the hospital and started the alcohol classes. And at least as impressive was the fact that the entire football team seemed changed by Jim’s talk with them that night in the locker room. Most of them were supposed to stop by the party sometime tonight.

Cody leaned against the doorframe. Only then was the worry in his eyes obvious. “I found out something. I wanted to talk to you first, then Coach.”

Jenny resisted the urge to sigh. She loved helping Cody, but she was beginning to sense that she was neglecting her own kids.

Bailey, for one. So much was happening in her life, and prior to Cody’s struggles, Bailey had shared with Jenny every conversation and nuance within each of her friendships. Now they could go days without so much as a heart-to-heart.

When Jenny asked her about it, she would only brush off the possibility. “I’m fine,” she’d said yesterday when Jenny brought up her concerns. “I know Cody needs you. Besides, auditions are at the end of this week. I’m working on my song and talking with friends.”

Jenny wasn’t so sure that was a good thing.

She studied Cody for a few more seconds. “Let’s go to the office.” She led, and once they were inside, she flipped on the lights and shut the double doors. “What’s going on?”

He looked down at his shoes and fidgeted with a paper clip sitting on the edge of the desk. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

She folded her arms. “Tell me, Cody.”

“It’s the team.” He ran his hand over his forehead and into his hair. His angst was painful to watch. “Bunch of guys are drinking tonight. Coach said if anyone drank, he wanted to know.”

Someone might as well have poured wet cement on her shoulders.
Please, God . . . not this again. Please . . .
“Are you sure?”

“Yep. If I tell him, he’ll go there. I know he will.”

This wasn’t how the night was supposed to play out. Anxiety added to the feelings of frustration and futility. If Jim broke up a player party, he’d have to kick kids off the squad. And if he did that, he’d be in hot water with half the parents and a few members of the administration. Jenny swallowed hard. “If he asked you to tell him, then tell him. God will take care of the details.”

Cody nodded. “The guys’ll hate me for sure.”

“At first.” Jenny touched his arm and found a sad smile. “Either way it’s the right thing.”

Together they found Jim, and Jenny watched the anger and disappointment fill his expression.

“I need directions to his house.” Jim grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. Once Cody had supplied the information, Jim stood and hugged the kid. “We’ll all get through this. I just don’t want to be talking about it at a funeral home.”

“I keep thinking how I felt before I passed out. You know, Thanksgiving night.” Cody looked paler than before, still terrified at the memory. “When I thought I was gonna die.” He shrugged. “I care about those guys; that’s all.”

When Cody was gone, Jim turned to Jenny. “I have to do this.”

“I’ll pray.” Jenny bit her lip. She wanted to ask him to be careful, remind him that whatever he said or did, even if he only accused a player, the kid could tell his parents, and the parents could have him fired. It happened all the time to coaches trying to raise the bar for their athletes.

But Jim already knew the possibilities.

Now it was a matter of trusting God for the outcome.

Jim’s heart pounded against his chest as he made the short drive to the party. He had with him his cell phone and a file with the names and phone numbers of every guy on his team.

The whole way there he questioned himself. Wasn’t the video enough? Had he missed something along the way? some signal or sign about how to reach these kids? Or maybe the only way they’d stop drinking was if they felt the pain themselves. He exhaled and forced himself to relax
. God, be with me. Give me wisdom here so the guys understand why I’m doing this.

My son, in this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.

The whispered voice permeated his heart and mind and soul. It was a verse from John chapter 16, a Scripture he’d read a thousand times before, starting with the high school days after Trent died. Jim had read it again after Cody’s alcohol poisoning. Now he was grateful for the reminder, one that felt as if God had spoken it here and now to give him the strength to carry out what he was about to do.

Jim pulled onto the street and had no trouble spotting the right house. Dozens of cars were parked in front and in the driveway, even on the front lawn. Already he could hear the pulsating bass of music being played inside. One couple was making out against a tree near the curb.

He had a choice to make now. He could call the police and wait until they arrived. Then as the kids piled out, he could write down the names of his players and kick them off the team when Christmas break was over. But then he wouldn’t know which kids were actually drinking. And the administration would insist on that detail.

Jim sucked in a full breath, and before he stepped out, he grabbed his phone, the folder, and a pen and checked the time—10:45. The players who had chosen to break his contract would probably be partying hard by now. Jim walked past the kissing couple—neither of whom seemed to notice him. The scene reminded him of that long-ago night at the park and of the way kids who drank lost all sense of reality or their surroundings.

He strode up the walkway to the front door and knocked, but after a few moments it was clear that no one inside the party could possibly have heard him. The music pulsed and shook the house, and he could hear people yelling and laughing inside. He tried again, but after a minute he figured he had nothing to lose. He opened the front door and stepped inside.

The room was full of kids swaying to the music and couples kissing, oblivious to everything around them.

Jim gritted his teeth and stayed by the door. Beer bottles littered the room, and in the kitchen kids were lining up to get beer from a keg. There were also bottles of what looked like gin and vodka open on the table.

He spotted Jack Spencer in a chair at the corner of the room. Jim’s punt returner had one hand wrapped around a beer and the other arm around a blonde girl, giggling on his lap.

Jim hadn’t been sure how he was going to handle this. Now it seemed obvious. He opened his folder, and on the blank sheet of paper he’d stuck inside he wrote:
Jack Spencer—drinking a bottle of beer
. Then he found Jack’s parents’ numbers. He called their home first, and on the second ring, kids started to notice him.

“Coach!” The shout came from a big kid dancing with a girl half his size. He’d played football his first year but dropped out. The dizzy look in his eyes told Jim he was probably working on his fourth or fifth beer. At least.

The call went to Jack’s parents’ answering service. Kids were stopping, turning his way, but Jim didn’t care. Acting more calm than he felt, he hit the End button on the phone and dialed Jack’s father’s cell phone number.

By the time a man answered, Jack was on his feet. He tried to set the beer down on the fireplace mantel a few feet from him, but he missed. The bottle crashed to the floor and shattered, spraying beer and glass on the hearth below.

“Hello, this is Coach Flanigan, Jack’s football coach.”

“Yes.” The man sounded irritated and confused. “I know who you are.”

For a few seconds Jack looked helplessly at the mess he’d made; then he straightened and stared at Jim. His eyes were near circles, and around the room other kids were slowly figuring it out. Coach Flanigan was here at their party!

Jim searched the group, looking for other players. So far he saw none. At the same time he pressed his phone closer to his ear. “I’m afraid I have bad news.” He explained where he was. “Jack’s here and he’s drinking, Mr. Spencer. You need to come pick him up.”

The man sounded as if he might argue, but he caught himself. “We’ll be right there.”

With each passing second, the significance of Coach Flanigan standing near the front door was impacting everyone in the front room and kitchen. Someone turned off the music, and everywhere Jim looked kids stood frozen, staring at him. Most of them with drinks in their hands. Suddenly it hit him. This was going to take longer than he thought. He couldn’t let even one of these kids drive home drunk—player or not.