A Lova' Like No Otha'

by Stephanie Perry Moore

  “Sir, my name is Zoe Clarke. I work in the front office with publicity. I met you at the beginning of the season. I'm Chase's…ex-girlfriend.” The word stuck in my throat.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked in a weary voice.

  “I've got to tell you something about Chase, sir. It's…private.”

  He crossed his arms and peered at me. I looked around to make sure we were alone, then whispered, “I can assure you Chase did not rape that girl.”

  “And how would you know that?”

  I lowered my voice further. “Chase has never had sex. We broke up because I wanted him to be physical with me and he wouldn't go there.”

  Coach's head tilted. I definitely had his attention.

  “Look, I don't have any financial resources to bail him out. But I know you do. That man has given his heart and soul to this team. I'm telling you, he's innocent. Please keep him out of jail.”

  Coach Sykes unfolded his arms. “Thank you, young lady.” He placed his hands on my shoulders. “I promise we'll get Chase out of jail. I understand the prosecutor plans to make an example out of this case. So, it won't be easy.”

  I thanked him, shook his hand heartily, thanked him again and returned to my desk.

  “I don't believe this,” I grumbled to Shay, pacing in the apartment after work on Tuesday. “I've left countless messages on Chase's cell phone and at his apartment, but I've heard nothing. I know he's been out of jail”—I stopped and looked at my watch—“for at least four or five hours.”

  “Do you want to drive over to his apartment and see if he's there?” she asked.

  I was waiting for Shay to ask. I had almost driven to Chase's apartment when I left work, but I didn't want to show up there alone. I didn't want him to think that I was tracking him down.

  We jumped into my car, but as soon as we pulled through the gate of his guarded community, we saw hordes of media vans jammed in front of his house. And the media members were peering into every car that rolled past Chase's home.

  “He couldn't be home,” Shay observed, “or those pesky reporters wouldn't all still be here.”

  I nodded and turned the car around. “Where else can we check?”

  “I don't know,” Shay said. “Look, let's just go back to our place. We can't drive around town aimlessly looking for him.”

  My eyes filled with tears. I had to find Chase. I had to find out what was going on with him because no matter what, I still loved him. “Shay, my heart says he's hurting. I don't know where he is, but I just have this feeling he's in pain.”

  “Pull over,” she said.

  I didn't really know why, but I followed Shay's instructions. I pulled the car over to the curb and parked.

  “Let's pray for him.” We closed our eyes and Shay took my hands. “Father,” Shay began, “Chase has got some serious stuff going on right now. Lord, we ask that You comfort him. Work this situation out so his name can be totally cleared. Expose this cheerleader for what she really is. I pray for Zoe's peace so she won't worry. Help her to know that You've got it all under control. All these things we ask in Jesus' name. Amen.”

  I opened my eyes. “Thanks, Shay,” I said, sniffing. “I know you're right, and I've got to believe that God is handling this.” I shook my head. “This isn't even my sin, and here I am acting all crazy. But things were going so well for Chase, and then, out of the blue, comes this huge mess. This kind of thing shouldn't be happening to him. I'm the one who deserves a big disaster.”

  “What are you saying, girl?” Shay argued. “You think you deserved all the bad things that have happened to you?”

  “I know it sounds dumb, but—”

  “Yeah, it does,” Shay said strongly. “Now, I agree we do cause messes for ourselves sometimes. But God doesn't punish us for that. However, He does use circumstances to draw us closer to Him. Who knows? Maybe somehow He's gonna bring more people to Christ out of this whole situation.”

  Her words calmed my heart a bit. “You're a good friend, Shay. You should be concentrating only on your life and your wedding right now, and here you are driving with me all around town, helping me try to find a guy that ain't even mine.”

  “Well, let's leave Chase in God's hands and call it a night, okay?”

  “Yeah.” I turned on the ignition. “It's time for me to get us home.”

  For the rest of the week, I muddled through, trying to concentrate on work. But it was difficult. I hadn't heard from Chase. Even though I had left messages on every machine he possessed.

  Being in the office didn't help. No one had any information—or at least no information that he or she was willing to pass along. Chase was in hiding, and there was no way I was going to find out where he was.

  On Saturday, though, I was still hopeful. I stayed in bed all day, pager in one hand, cell phone in the other and my cordless phone just a few feet away.

  It was incredibly frustrating not to have heard a word. I felt like my hands were tied and there was nothing I could do to help him. But I had to realize that God was there for Chase.

  So, by the time Saturday evening rolled around, I decided to put my efforts elsewhere. I would help Chase by sending up as many prayers as I could on his behalf.

  “This crazy nightmare of yours will end, Chase,” I whispered into the air. “I know it. You just have to hold on.” If I couldn't tell him directly, I hoped he could somehow hear my thoughts and feel my prayers.

  I hardly slept Saturday night and was up before the sun on Sunday. Shay and I had made plans to attend the game and we got to the stadium well before the game started.

  As we walked through the crowd, I heard nothing but conversation about Chase. My ears perked up to hear what the fans were saying.

  “Everyone is innocent until proven guilty,” one man was saying to another. “Chase Farr should be able to play until someone can prove that he raped that girl.”

  Another man complained, “This is football. All of that off-the-field stuff has nothing to do with playing ball.”

  Then I heard a woman say, “Well, if someone could commit such a crime against women, or even be accused of it, he shouldn't be able to play until the situation is cleared up. I tell you, if I see Chase Farr on the field, I will boycott the Storm for the rest of my life!”

  Oh, brother! I wanted to scream. I was tired of hearing about it. And even more tired of not being able to do anything about it.

  Shay and I sat in anticipation as we watched the teams run their pregame drills. I searched for Chase's number but couldn't find him.

  “Are you sure Byron didn't say anything to you?” I asked Shay for at least the fiftieth time since I woke her up this morning.

  She shook her head and answered patiently. “No. The team hasn't been told anything.”

  “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to our stadium this first day of December. It's a great day for football. May I have your attention, please.” The voice from the announcer's booth almost immediately silenced the stadium. Everyone was anxious for the news. “We'd like to announce that Chase Farr will be starting in today's game.…”

  I wasn't sure if the announcer said anything else. The people in the stands exploded. But they weren't all cheers. When Chase ran onto the field, half of the people in the stands booed. I couldn't believe it. This guy had single-handedly led the team to a winning season. What a trip!

  Ignoring the derision, Chase ran through the mist and came out lifting his hand as if to say, Though they scorn me, yet will I trust the Lord.

  I sat on the edge of my seat as the game started. On the first drive, the fifth play, Chase caught a pass in the end zone for a touchdown. The boos turned to cheers.

  But it didn't last long. The next time Chase touched the ball was horrendous. The quarterback overthrew the ball and Chase jumped high to get it. When he landed, his left foot turned on an angle, hitting the turf awkwardly. Chase fell to the ground.

  I jumped from my seat, covering my mouth with my hand. I wanted t
o run to Chase—to make sure that he was all right.

  The stadium was disconcertingly quiet. As the coach, the trainer and several team members surrounded Chase, Shay turned on her pocket radio, and I held it to my ear.

  “Looks like Chase Farr has hurt more than just his leg,” the announcer stated.

  I tossed the radio back to Shay and ran from my seat. Shoving people out of my way, I ran to the sideline wall. When I caught a glimpse of Chase, he wasn't moving.

  “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

  After 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.