Bobbi and Soul

by J. B. Marsden

  “Me? Nope, can’t say I know anything about it. Oh, I like to look at classics sometimes. That one painted in Iowa. The gothic whatever, that one with the farmer and his wife. It tickles me.”

  “You mean American Gothic by Grant Wood, painted in 1930. I love it. I try to see it any time I’m at AIC.”

  Bobbi smirked at Erin.

  “What? Can’t I like art? You think I’m too blue collar to be cultured?” Erin crossed her arms over her chest.

  “No. No. You just amuse me. Classical violin. Art lover. Is there anything else I’m missing from your résumé?”

  Erin smiled; pretending to think, she said, “Let me get back to you on that one. I may have some other tricks up my sleeve.” She turned to sit on the couch. “Come and have some cheese before I bring out the stew.” She patted the seat next to her on the coach.

  Bobbi plopped down and took a piece of the cheese. “I reckon this is gourmet cheese?”

  “No, smartass. It’s good old goat cheese from one of the local farms.” Erin lightly punched Bobbi’s upper arm.

  “Hey.” Bobbi faked hurt. Her heart did a quick uptick, but that’s all. The punch hadn’t registered as a Stephanie moment, thankfully.

  Erin shook her head and laughed. Then she became more serious. “So, Doctor, tell me how your week was. You look a little worn out.”

  Bobbi looked down at her wrinkles and stains. “Oh, shit. I knew I forgot something. I didn’t change clothes. My last patient ran over time, so I just skedaddled out of the clinic over here. Sorry, I’m a mess.”

  “Well, I don’t care about your clothes. But you look very tired. Are you all right?”

  Bobbi brushed a hand through her hair, a habit Erin recognized as a tactic when Bobbi felt out of control. “I’m fine. A couple of long nights, is all. Not something I haven’t had before.” With that, she let out a large yawn. “God. I’m sorry, that was rude.”

  Erin laughed again. She could tell Bobbi was underplaying her tiredness, but she let it go. Doctors and their egos, she thought.

  After eating a few pieces of cheese and talking, Erin decided to get the dinner on the table.

  Bobbi looked at the stew. “This looks interesting.”

  “It’s got middle eastern spices, with chick peas, tomatoes, and few other goodies. I hope you’ll like it.”

  Bobbi had her spoon in the stew, when Erin said, “I usually say a short prayer, if that’s okay.”

  Bobbi quickly returned the spoon to the bowl. Erin prayed three lines of thanks, and they ate.

  “I didn’t know you were a vegetarian,” Bobbi said.

  Erin contemplated her answer. “I’m not, normally, but during Lent I like to cut back on meat.”

  “Lent. What does that mean, exactly? I saw people at the hospital Wednesday with stuff on their foreheads, which I understand as ashes. And I know it comes after Fat Tuesday and Mardi Gras. In other words, you party and then you repent?”

  Erin’s mouth lifted in a small grin. She relaxed back into her chair. “Something like that. Lent used to be a much more solemn and painful time for parishioners in the past. People would give up something important. But then Lent began to be very superficial. My friends at Loyola one year decided to give up broccoli.” She huffed in laughter and shook her head. “But I tell my parishioners that Lent is a time of repentance in preparation for the resurrection of Christ. Not a time of beating your chest with how awful you are, but of really contemplating how you mess things up. Then you contemplate taking action to make your behavior more in line with your faith.”

  “You mean, like I can be arrogant. So, during Lent, I would think about that and try to make better decisions when I feel I need to defend myself. When someone or some event threatens me, and I tend to be huffy and self-important.”

  Erin looked at Bobbi with understanding. “Yes. You gave a good example. Prayer is important in this Lenten process too, though. You just don’t think about your sins, you pray about them. God answers with love and grace.”

  “Love and grace. That sounds nice.” Bobbi’s eyes looked into the middle distance.

  Erin smiled at this. “God’s love causes us to strive to be our best selves. God doesn’t make junk.”

  “God doesn’t make junk. Yeah…Huh. I never heard that before.” Bobbi smiled at Erin and continued to eat her stew.

  “You never went to church?” Erin hated to tread into these religious waters, but she felt Bobbi could handle it.

  “Nope. Mom and Dad said religion was a bunch of bunk. They were forced to go to church as children. Both Roman Catholic. They fell away from church in college and never went back. When they met, they both hated their upbringing and the strictures they’d lived under at home. So, our family never went to any church, and we didn’t celebrate stuff either. Well, except for Christmas, when we gave presents, had parties and such.”

  “You’re not alone in our generation. Hardly any of my college friends went to church, and many of them grew up in the church. Although, like you, some of our generation never have been in a church. Those who do often never return. But, religion is irrelevant to most Americans.”

  “Then why…How did you become a priest?” Bobbi looked up from her bowl. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

  Erin placed her spoon into her bowl. “Hoo boy, I’ve had to answer that question about a million times. Between my ordination process, parishioners, and sermons, I’ve told that story every few months since my days at Loyola.” Erin remembered the hardest of those times, from committees with the power to veto her ordination. “It’s simple, my story, really. I never rejected God or church, even though my father is a priest, and many clergy kids get out of religion altogether. But I did resist the sense that God was asking more of me. I got my pastoral counseling degree right out of undergrad in psychology. I thought that was the answer. But as I was finishing that program, I still felt I hadn’t done enough. That God still had something more for me. And one day, in chapel, alone, God told me I belonged in the priesthood.”

  “God told you?” Bobbi raised her eyebrows.

  “I know you might not believe me. But, yeah. I heard an internal voice, not my own, but one very close to me, a very loving voice. It said, ‘I ask you to be my priest.’” Erin looked down at her plate. Telling the story always took her breath away. She shrugged. “That’s it.”

  Bobbi looked silently at Erin. “Wow,” she said quietly. They sat without speaking for some moments. “You know, it was like that for me too, in a way. No voice of God. But one day, helping my dad with a lamb who had broken its leg, I knew I was meant to be a doctor. I was twelve or thirteen at the time. From that time on, I wanted nothing else. It’s as if an angel or something had touched me. And I don’t believe in angels.”

  “You don’t have to believe in supernatural forces to be touched by them.”

  Bobbi and Erin sat quietly, finishing their meal. Erin felt the silence matched the gravity of their conversation.

  Erin looked over at Bobbi and resolved to see what was going on. “You know, you look really beat. Did something happen this week?” Erin gazed tenderly at her.

  “A pediatric patient died on me Wednesday night. My first baby. It was hard to see that little girl leave life without having lived it.” Bobbi stated matter of factly, but Erin could see that Bobbi’s eyes were haunted.

  Erin nodded and sat silently. She’d never seen Bobbi claim vulnerability before, doubting that it happened very often.

  Erin watched Bobbi fiddle with her napkin. “I’ve never wanted my own children. I figured I wasn’t a good candidate for being a parent, given my schedule. Although I grew up in a loving home and know what good parenting is about. How they are there for you through thick and thin. You know, the unconditional love they give us. But when I saw that mom and dad at the hospital Wednesday night, I couldn’t conceive of the pain they were going through.”

  “Mmm,” Erin said. She didn’t want to break into Bobbi’s story.

 
“I just…That baby’s death was so meaningless,” Bobbi said in a choked voice.

  Erin could see her eyes swimming with unshed tears.

  Bobbi sniffed and sat back. “Can I help you with dishes?”

  Erin could tell the emotional moment had affected Bobbi and now she reverted back to Take Charge mode. “No way. Mine is a one-butt kitchen, so go sit and relax.” She began to stack their bowls. “I have a little light dessert, and tea or coffee. There’s not much to do.”

  “Tea for me, thanks,” Bobbi said.

  Erin took her time stacking the dishwasher, hoping to give Bobbi some moments on her own to deal with her emotions. She then prepared tea, while arranging a plate with cookies.

  By the time she entered the living room, Bobbi’s head was canted against the back of the couch. Erin leaned over and peered into her face, watching her chest rise and fall in a steady, deep rhythm, her eyes closed. “Bobbi?” she said quietly. When Bobbi didn’t stir, Erin removed her shoes, then laid a throw from another chair across Bobbi’s lap. She smoothed Bobbi’s hair from her forehead and whispered, “Sleep well, sweetie.”

  She must trust me if she fell asleep here, Erin thought. Her angular face looked handsome in the light, but her gray complexion spoke of needing rest and rejuvenation. The arrogant doctor was giving way to a real person, with weaknesses like anyone else. Erin felt her heart open to this more real Bobbi.

  Chapter Eighteen

  By weekend standards, the Valley Pub held fewer people on Sunday nights. Erin walked into the fairly quiet microbrewery, excited to be hosting the first Beer and Bible group. Her church invited all young-adult parishioners, and Erin had added some of her friends from other churches, through her contacts in her clergy group. She expected a light attendance on this blustery March night, though.

  She arrived right on time, entered the dark, yeasty-smelling place, and found the table reserved for them in a quiet corner in the back, away from the acoustic guitar player.

  No one else had arrived yet, so she ordered a wheat beer, and sat back to watch for her people entering, when the server plunked it down in front of her. The guitarist played and sang country and folk music, which was fine. At least it wasn’t loud, and she sounded pretty good.

  Bobbi and another woman suddenly appeared at the door. It must be a date, because Bobbi’s hand guided the woman on the small of her back. Erin didn’t know the woman, but she seemed familiar. She had light brown hair pulled into a ponytail and wore casual jeans and a blue frilly shirt under a long, slinky sweater. Bobbi was dressed similarly, except her shirt was plaid and her sweater a conservative cardigan. She carried herself with a powerful walk and upright posture, towering over the other woman by three or so inches.

  Erin had last seen Bobbi Friday night when she woke with a start in Erin’s living room, around ten p.m., embarrassed at having fallen asleep. Erin had been glad to give her the safety of some rest. After Bobbi left, Erin felt surprised that the haughty doctor no longer held her contempt. In fact, Bobbi’s vulnerabilities, her gentleness, and her ethics grabbed at Erin’s heart. The anxiety attack she’d witnessed over dinner at Kenny’s Tavern worried Erin, though.

  And here Bobbi was, with a date. Erin didn’t have a chance of getting to know her better tonight unless she made a move.

  Bobbi scanned the room when she saw Erin, lifted her hand in recognition, and briefly smiled. They walked up to Erin’s table.

  “Are you alone?” Bobbi asked.

  “No. At least I hope not. I’m hosting a Beer and Bible group tonight. Our first night and I’m the first one here.”

  Over Bobbi’s shoulder, Erin caught the eye of three people whom she’d invited. She waved them over to the table.

  They all greeted Erin. Erin introduced them to Dr. Roberta Webster. Bobbi shook their hands, and then caught the disappointed look on her date’s face. “Oh, sorry. Everyone, this is Amanda. She’s a nurse at BCH. Whenever we’re both off, we like to come over for a beer. Well, more accurately, I have a beer. Amanda’s more of a wine drinker.”

  Amanda’s smile didn’t reach her eyes, Erin noted, as she greeted each of the others.

  Three more people walked to the table and all began to sit, after greeting Erin, Bobbi, and Amanda. A couple of the young adults didn’t know each other and Erin did the introductions.

  Bobbi stood next to Erin’s table, watching the group gather, now numbering nine, when two more joined the table and brought chairs with them from other nearby tables. The group laughed together. Bobbi smiled, not moving, while Amanda stood with her arms crossed at her chest, definitely not smiling.

  After the commotion of the last people arriving had died down, Bobbi asked Erin, “What is Beer and Bible?”

  Erin looked at her group of young adults. “We don’t know yet, do we, gang?”

  They all laughed.

  “We don’t have a schedule or plan. The general idea is for someone to name a topic from the news or another source and we talk about it from the standpoint of our faith.” Erin looked around the ring of people at the table to nodding heads. “Yeah?”

  “Sounds good,” one thirty-something man with tats covering his neck answered. “I’m ready.”

  Bobbi looked intrigued. Erin asked, “Would you two like to join us?”

  Grinning widely, and without glancing at Amanda and noticing her slight frown, Bobbi answered, “Sure.” She then also missed Amanda’s slight eye roll. Bobbi grabbed chairs for them and they all ordered their drinks. Erin wondered what their relationship entailed.

  Erin looked at her group and tried to make sure everyone felt comfortable by asking each person first to share their name and occupation. She knew most of them by name except those whom others had brought tonight. But she didn’t know them well enough to know what they did for a living, since most of them were only occasional churchgoers. Two of the young adults worked at technical companies, in Denver and Colorado Springs, but those living closer, in Johnson or Babcock Counties, worked in local insurance agencies, construction, or banking. One had a salon. The other three were health care professionals. When Bobbi introduced herself as a physician, many of them widened their eyes. The health care types among them looked on her with awe, and she blushed adorably.

  Erin then asked them each to share why they came tonight. The reasons varied greatly. Some wanted time with others their age that didn’t include singles clubs in Denver and drinking. The “meat market,” one of the young women called it. Several nodded their heads. Others wanted to learn more about Christianity, or to be better Christians in their daily life. All agreed that church on Sunday didn’t appeal to them as a way to accomplish this.

  Then Bobbi answered, “I don’t know why I’m here. Christianity intrigues me but I’m not really religious. I’ve never thought of religion. I’ve never attended church except for a couple of funerals and some weddings. Even most of the weddings haven’t been in churches.”

  One woman put in, “Most of my friends wouldn’t be caught dead in church.” Several people nodded and laughed.

  Erin said, “Go on, Bobbi. You don’t have a relationship with church, but do you have a relationship with God?”

  Bobbi stared at the table for a long moment. “Of course, I can’t be a doctor without believing there’s a higher being out there. I’m so privileged to be present at the beginnings and endings of the miracles of life. And healing. I don’t presume to take all the credit for someone’s healing.” She sighed. “Although I can’t say I understand prayer or why people pray.”

  At that statement, several heads nodded. The banker added, “Yeah. I don’t know what prayer is. How to pray, what to pray for. And if God knows us inside and out, why do we have to pray? Doesn’t God already know what we need?”

  Erin smiled inside. This was exactly the kind of meaty topic she had hoped would engage her new group. She rubbed her hands together. “Okay, let’s discuss this. Why do you all think prayer is important?”

  Bobbi frowned. �
�Wait, aren’t you supposed to answer our questions? Aren’t you the resident expert at the table?”

  “No way. I’m a baptized person just like you guys, just trying to make my way along a path. Just because I’ve got book learning doesn’t mean I understand all the mysteries of God.”

  Bobbi slowly nodded. “Well, just for the record, I’m not baptized.” She gazed directly into Erin’s eyes. “And, why aren’t you the expert? You’re a priest; how can you struggle with God?”

  The physician assistant in the group said, “But she’s a normal human being, too. Being ordained doesn’t give you an inside track on God. At least I don’t think it does. And I agree with Dr. Webster. Having a patient’s life in your hands gives you lots of power that I don’t want. I want to know that God’s presence also guides me and accompanies the patient in their suffering.”

  Erin beamed. The group began to discuss prayer and healing and other topics related to faith. Her first group started with a bang.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Oh, look.” Gen showed Yancy the picture on her phone. “It’s Erin’s first Beer and Bible group at the brewery.”

  Yancy peered over Gen’s shoulder while Gen flipped through three more photos. “Whoa. Go back to the last one.”

  “Oh, my God. It’s Bobbi Webster.” Gen gazed closely at Bobbi’s unmistakable face.

  “What the hell do you think she was doing there?”

  “Well, darling, I have no idea. But it is surprising.” Gen grinned, looking at the picture. “She’s so professionally focused, I’d never predicted her being involved in Erin’s church.”

  “Me neither.” Yancy yawned. “Are you about packed?”

  “Hmm,” Gen answered, still thinking about Bobbi being in the picture. “Are you tired?”

  “Didn’t sleep the best. I never seem to the night before flying. I’m always afraid I’ll miss my flight. Stupid, I know.” Yancy sidled up to Gen and took her in her arms. “What an amazing honeymoon. Are you as happy as I am?”