A Lova' Like No Otha' (22 page)

“Man, he may never play ball again,” one of the players said.

I looked at the player in shock, then turned all of my attention to Chase. I wasn't concerned about whether he'd be able to play ball again; I prayed that he would be able to walk.

“Get up, Chase! Get up,” I yelled, trying not to think about the dreadful possibilities. I ignored the people who turned toward me and stared as if I were a raving lunatic. I didn't care. There, still and helpless, lay the guy who had my heart. I knew there was only one thing to do. I thought about dropping to my knees, but instead I just closed my eyes.
Lord, You have to help him,
my heart cried.

A miracle had to be on its way, because the forecast on the field was grim and foggy.

Chapter 14

A
fter holding my breath for what seemed like an eternity, the crowd in the dome started cheering. I looked up to the big screen to get a better view, and though Chase was still lying on the field, he was wiggling his fingers and toes.

My heart started beating again. “Thank you, Lord,” I cried out loud.

I headed back to my seat, keeping my eyes on the screen as best as I could. When I sat down, Shay grabbed my hand and clutched it tightly.

“Looks like he probably blew out his knee, huh?” she said.

“Gosh, I hope not.”

“I guess it's just a good thing he's alive.”

“Yeah, no kidding. Who knows? Maybe God figures Chase has gone far enough in his career, and he needs a break. And not just his leg, you know what I'm sayin'?”

“Yeah, girl, I feel you.”

A gurney was driven onto the field, and the rescue team worked to place Chase on the stretcher, then wheeled him off the field. The fans cheered and screamed. I cried.

“I'm sure he's okay,” Shay assured me.

“I can't believe this.” I bent my head to my lap.

“Hey, what's Byron doing?” Shay said.

I looked up and saw Byron signaling for Shay to come down to the field, near where I had been standing. My eyes followed her as she ran down to the field, talked with Byron for a moment, then started back toward me.

“Is Chase okay?” I asked Shay when she returned.

“I don't know, but Byron said that Chase asked if you were here, and when he heard you were, Chase asked him to bring you to the locker room right away.”

I jumped up, anxious to go. “But I don't have a pass.”

“Byron said the guy at the door will let you in.”

“Okay,” I said, half out of my mind.

I rushed up the stairs, then got on the elevator that took me to the locker room. Every part of my body was shaking when I knocked on the locker room's door.

“I'm here for Chase Farr,” I told the guard. “My name is Zoe Clarke.”

“Follow me, Ms. Clarke,” he said as if he'd been expecting me.

He escorted me to a small room where Chase was still lying on the gurney When the trainer saw me, he patted Chase's arm, nodded, then left us alone.

I stood there for a moment and stared at him. Then his tears came. I had seen Chase cry only one other time. He was always confident, rarely distressed. At that moment, he seemed like a lost child. How I wished I could remove his pain.

“It's okay,” I uttered, then I kissed his forehead.

“This is crazy,” he said. “I know God is trying to tell me something, but I must not be getting it.”

“I don't think that's what it is, Chase,” I said, taking his hand gently.

“I was just told before the game that I would be going to the Pro Bowl.”

“That's great,” I said, wiping his tears with my fingertips.

“No, it's not. I might not be able to play out the rest of the season.”

“Until you know the extent of the damage, you shouldn't speculate.”

He reached up and put his arm around my neck, pulling me closer. He kissed my lips, then said softly, “Thanks for being here.”

I nodded, unable to speak after his kiss.

“I'm sorry I haven't called you,” he continued. “With everything that's been going on, I haven't been the happiest guy in the world, and I needed the time alone. But I did get your messages, and I appreciate your prayers.” His eyes scanned my face. “I miss you like this.”

I frowned, not understanding what he was saying. “Like what?”

“By my side. I miss having you by my side.”

I smiled and felt my heart warm. I was so happy to be by his side. It was an answer to every prayer.

The trainer returned. “Sorry, but we need to get him to the hospital to do some tests.”

“Of course,” I said, backing away.

The trainer secured the straps on the gurney and then wheeled Chase to a waiting ambulance. I followed, and then tried to get into the vehicle with him.

“Sorry, miss,” the driver said, starting to shut the doors.

“No,” Chase protested through the nearly closed doors. “She's got to come with me.”

The driver looked from me to Chase, then shrugged. “Go ahead.”

I smiled gratefully and climbed into the back. Within seconds, the ambulance took off.

I looked down at Chase. Though he tried to smile, his face revealed the terrible pain that had to be pulsating through his body. I wanted to take it away, make it all better for him, make it not hurt so bad.

But I wasn't God. I could only hope and pray that the sun would shine again for him soon.

“You know, the battle's not mine,” he mumbled.

I glanced at the paramedic seated next to me, then back at Chase.

“What?” I asked.

“I said the battle's not mine. My life is crazy right now. I got that girl pressin' charges against me. My knee's blown out. I might not be asked back to the team. And I've let one of the most important things in my life slip through my fingers.”

“Don't worry about that,” I said, wondering which thing he meant.

“Maybe that's why I planted my foot the wrong way. In my mind, I was trippin' off stuff going on in my life instead of focusing on the game and letting God work everything else out.”

“Chase, you don't have to talk about this now.”

He continued as if he hadn't heard me. “It's not my battle. It's His. And there's nothin' He can't fix. God can do anything,” he said as if he were trying to convince me…and himself. “But His ability to work in my life decreases when I take the focus off the fact that He is God.”

I wasn't sure whether or not Chase realized it, but in this moment of his great pain and need, he was encouraging me.

Everything happened quickly when the ambulance pulled up to the hospital. Before I knew it, Chase had been wheeled in, and I was left in the waiting room, where I sat like a zombie.

After more than twenty minutes, a nurse came into the waiting room.

“Are you Zoe Clarke?”

I nodded.

“You can go back there now.” She pointed toward the double doors, but I was through them before the nurse had even finished her sentence.

I rushed to the first section, where Chase lay on a single bed. I took his hand.

He smiled at me but remained silent.

A moment later, a white-coated doctor, with glasses halfway down the bridge of his nose, walked in with papers attached to a clipboard.

“Hello,” he said through unsmiling, tight lips.

I held my breath as I anticipated his next words:
I have bad news.

“Well, Mr. Farr,” the doctor began. “It looks like you tore your PCL.”

My eyes moved from the doctor to Chase, not really understanding what the doctor meant.

I breathed when I saw that Chase seemed relieved.

“What does that mean, Doctor?” I asked, turning back to the doctor.

“It's relatively good news,” he explained. “You see, an ACL tear—”

I cut him off and said, “What?”

“Sorry. An Anterior Cruciate ligament tear would have meant that the main ligament in the knee was separated. That ligament doesn't grow back naturally, so surgery would be the only way to repair it. But Chase has a Post Cruciate ligament tear. That ligament is in the back of the knee, and it usually repairs itself naturally. It takes about six weeks to heal, as opposed to a year or longer.”

I calculated it all in my head. Chase would be out of the play-offs. But if his team made it to the Super Bowl, he could be ready to play.

“Thank God,” Chase said. Then he turned to the doctor. “Thank you.”

The doctor nodded and finally smiled. “Now, it's going to take some work, and if you stay off your leg and do what I say, I think you'll be fine.”

Chase nodded.

“I'll be right back.”

When we were alone, Chase squeezed my hand. “Thank you too, Zoe.”

I smiled as my body warmed to his words. “You don't have to thank me. I'm just glad that you're going to be fine.”

The doctor and one of the team's trainers returned to the room and I backed into the corner, letting them have space to instruct Chase on what he had to do to heal.

As they talked, I talked to God. I thanked Him for His goodness and mercy and for sparing Chase. And I thanked Him for bringing Chase back into my life. I didn't know what this meant—I didn't know where this would lead. I didn't care. I just wanted to enjoy where Chase and I were right now.

The trainer drove us to Chase's apartment through a rain shower that began while we were in the hospital.

“What happened in the game?” Chase asked.

The man hesitated. “Storm lost. By six points.”

Chase groaned and slumped down in the front seat.

From the back, I looked out the window and wondered if the Storm would be able to win any games without Chase. The play-off race was close. This was a bad time for Chase to be out.

The trainer helped Chase into the apartment, and I fumbled through the familiar rooms, trying to find where Chase had placed things so I could get him settled.

After the trainer left, I helped Chase into the bed, and as he lay down, I was reminded of what had separated us in the first place. I placed a pillow under his leg to prop it up, then opened the drapes for a little light.

My mind rambled back to a similar encounter. I remembered my mom entertaining Mr. Donaldson. He owned the corner liquor store and was married.

One night, somebody robbed him and beat him up. It wasn't his wife who nursed him back to health either. It was my mama. She loved on that man all night. I watched through the peephole and fell asleep there. The routine of watching her was far more damaging than any R-rated movie could ever have been. Of course I didn't know it then. When Mr. Donaldson left the next morning, he tripped over me. After apologizing and then scolding me for looking, he told me not to tell nobody he was there. He took my frail hand and placed three $100 bills in it. “This ain't yours. Go give that to yo mama and tell her thanks.”

My mom did a lot for me. My soul had to forgive her because she gave so much for me.

“Looks like it stopped raining,” I said, sitting on the edge of the bed, smiling as I came out of my daze.

“Yeah, but it's still drizzling,” he muttered. “Just like my life.” He took a deep breath and grasped my hand. “I know it's only been a few weeks, but I want to catch up. What's been going on with you?”

“Well,” I began with a sigh. “Things have been kind of rough for me too.” My mind filled with images of my mother, and I wished I could call my mom right now and talk to her. How many chances had I missed to do that when she was alive? Now, when I wanted to, she was gone.

Chase squeezed my fingers, interrupting my thoughts. “Please tell me about it.”

“Well, my mother…” I lowered my head, fighting back the tears. “She…She passed away.”

“I'm so sorry,” he said, tightening his grip on my hand.

“She's had cancer for a while, but the day before Thanksgiving, my brother called me. She passed away Thanksgiving night.” With watery eyes, I looked up at him. “I'm surprised that Shay didn't tell you.”

He shook his head.

“I guess she was just honoring my wishes. I didn't…After what happened, I didn't want to bother you.”

“Oh, Zoe, I wish I could have been there for you.” He pulled me close to him, and I found comfort in his strong arms. For the first time in weeks, I felt safe and secure.

As I lay in Chase's arms, we talked, and we talked for hours. I told Chase about the plane that nearly crashed and the dramatic night when Aisha held a gun to my head, though I left out the part about being alone in Devyn's bedroom. I didn't want to be dishonest with Chase, but I didn't want him to take it the wrong way.

He squeezed me tighter as I talked, as if he realized how many times he could have lost me.

We were sitting totally in the dark when I realized how much time had passed. The last thing on earth I wanted to do was leave this man's side. But I knew I didn't dare stay.

“It's getting late,” I said, sitting up. “I'd better get going.”

“I wish you didn't have to.”

Inside, I longed to climb into bed with this man, rub him all night long and make him feel so good he wouldn't ever want to let me go. But I had grown a lot in the past weeks, and although the voice of desire still spoke to me, I was able to control my passion, thanks to the One who gave me strength.

“I wish I didn't have to go too,” I said, then stood. “But I do.” I softly kissed his forehead. “Call me if you need anything.” Then I turned around and went home.

The following Saturday, I gave Shay a wedding shower. It was easy to organize, even though I had only been back in town for a short while. Most of the wives and girlfriends of the team members attended.

“You're amazing, Zoe,” Mrs. Spalding said, sipping a glass of punch. “Wherever did you come up with the idea of having the party in a bridal boutique?”

“Well, when I was helping Shay pick out her dress, she kept talking about how beautiful this store was. And the more she talked about it, the more the idea came to mind. I thought it would be special and unique.”

“How did you convince the store manager to close shop on a Saturday?” Mrs. Simmons asked.

I grinned. “I told him we'd take some publicity shots of the wives and girlfriends of the Storm players trying on dresses, and mention the location in the article.”

The women laughed, and it was a chuckle of admiration.