across the room the doctor was assuring Landon that since he didn’t have polymyositis, he definitely had some form of chronic obstructive pulmonary disease.
“COPD, it’s called.” His expression was more matter-of-fact than regretful. “You can most likely return to work, but it’ll be at a desk, Mr. Blake. One fire like the last one you were in and you might not make it out.”
The reality made Ashley dizzy. Landon might not have a fatal disease, but his career was dead. He would never fight fires again. Ashley felt the oxygen leave the room, felt an oppression squeeze in around them. They thanked the doctor, and Landon dressed again. This time he didn’t put up a cool front, or pretend not to care. As they walked to the car, he slipped his arm around her waist and leaned on her, drawing strength from her.
When they reached the van she saw that his tears were back — the man she had only seen cry a handful of times in her entire life was crying for the second time today. Sure he was going to live — and for that he was certainly grateful. But Landon was a firefighter. It was the job he felt born to do, the job he loved. But with today’s appointment, something he had only dreaded was confirmed true.
His days of fighting fires were over.
Ashey offered to drive, but Landon shook his head. The look in his eyes was clear. He couldn’t fight fires, but he could drive her home. At least that. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. She remembered what Jenny Flanigan had told her earlier that day. When God’s people couldn’t take another step, He was there to carry them. The truth soothed the broken places in her heart and soul, and as they pulled out of the parking lot, Ashley was convinced of one thing: If she could’ve looked back at their path from the medical building to the van, she wouldn’t have seen two sets of footprints leading to their van.
She would’ve seen one.
Eleven
CHEYENNE WAS MAKING TREMENDOUS STRIDES, SO MUCH SO that through the first month of summer Cody was consumed with gratitude. Her cast was off her leg now, and tonight — after a full five days of tough football practices, Cody was doing something he’d wanted to do ever since Cheyenne was released from the hospital.
He was taking her out on a date.
She still had her walker, so he didn’t want to take her anywhere that might cause an issue with her mobility. He settled on a movie — a romantic comedy the media was talking about. It had been out for several weeks, so when they arrived at the theater just outside Indianapolis, they didn’t have to fight a crowd.
They walked slowly toward the theater. It was the last Friday in June and the night was comfortably warm. Still too early for the humidity to come. As they finally reached the front doors she gave him an apologetic look. “You’re patient.”
“Don’t be silly.” He slipped his arm around her shoulder. “You’re like a marathon runner the way you’ve gotten through rehab. No one thought you’d be walking yet.”
She paused, her eyes shining with the reflection of the light from the marquis. “You did.”
“True.” He sensed that she was feeling more emotional than usual, but the idea scared him a little. He worked to keep things light between them. “But that was only so I could get you out to a movie. The guys on the team wouldn’t see this movie if you paid them.”
Laughter filled the slight spaces between them as Cody bought the tickets and helped her inside. They sat in the front row of the upper section in two handicapped-accessible seats. “I take longer, but I get there …”
Cody remembered when the same could be said about him, after his time in Iraq. His leg had required all of this rehab and more. Again it was another reason he felt close to her, because they shared the hardship of the climb, the overwhelming determination to come back from something that had nearly killed them. He stayed at her side until she was seated, then he bought popcorn and water bottles and took his place beside her.
The movie was a chick flick, for sure, but it held his attention. More than the film he enjoyed being with her. This was the first time their evening together had been less about her progress, her needs, her schedule of