by Pat Simmons
“Shae, we’ve got a house that’s cookin’. You and Jeff need to get there ASAP!” the news director yelled across the room from the assignment desk area.
Thank You, Jesus! She scrambled to her feet while gathering her purse and tablet.
“All companies evacuate the building…all firefighters evacuate the building,” came the dispatcher’s urgent warning over the EMS/fire scanner.
Not good. That could only mean the structure wasn’t secure and might collapse any minute. Shae and Jeff raced out of the newsroom. In the news vehicle, Jeff weaved in and out of traffic to get to the location. When they made it to the scene, EMS workers were loading victims into ambulances. One was a firefighter. Shae surveyed the residence. One side of the upper floor had indeed buckled.
Jeff heaved the camera onto his shoulder. Shae waited for him to adjust his focus before she conducted the first interview in a crowd of bystanders.
“Sir, can I get your name, and will you spell it?” Shae asked a man, holding the microphone to his mouth.
“John Brody.” He was an elderly gentleman with dingy overalls, curly gray hair, and several missing teeth. “That’s B-R-O-D-Y.”
“Mr. Brody, can you tell me what happened?”
“It’s a shame that somebody’s been setting fires in these vacant houses. I knew someone was going to get hurt. Sho’nuff. See what happened.” He pointed to the dwelling that was still sweltering.
Thanking him, Shae moved on as others vied for her attention. She tried to keep the interviews to a minimal length, looking for the best sound bite. Then she went in search of the neighbors whose houses were threatened by the blaze.
The situation turned out to be more complicated than she had first assumed. Most folks believed victims were trapped inside. There was no way she could piece together a coherent story in the short amount of time allowed. She called the station for a backup writer, dictating the main points, so a script could be typed while Shae continued to gather information in the field.
Too soon, the five o’clock producer advised Shae through her earpiece to stand by. The fire was the lead story, and she had secured an official on the scene who was willing to speak on camera.
Shae positioned her microphone and looked into the camera as she listened to the station’s theme music and waited for the anchor’s introduction. Then, on cue, she began. “Firefighters discovered two people inside a house while battling a blaze in the fifty-seven hundred block of Clemens on the city’s West Side. Captain Royce Kavanaugh, can you tell me what happened?”
The exhausted fire chief wiped his brow. “The house appeared vacant, but after the fire was extinguished, we found two victims near the kitchen area. They’re in extremely critical condition.”
Jesus, please help them, she silently prayed. “Any idea who they are and how the fire started?” she prompted him.
“The fire is still under investigation, but preliminary findings suggest the man and woman may have been squatters. We did find traces of some accelerants, so the fire marshal has been called.”
“Could this fire be connected to the other recent blazes on adjacent blocks?”
“We’re not sure at this time.”
“Thank you, Captain Kavanaugh.” Shae faced the camera. “Many questions remain, but KMMD will stay on top of it to give you the answers. Reporting live on the West Side, I’m Shae Carmen for Channel Seven News.”
She waited until Jeff said they were clear before she relaxed her stance. They remained on the scene to give live updates on the ten o’clock news.
Back at her desk in the newsroom, Shae wrote notes for the morning crew to follow up on the story. As she signed off and gathered her purse, she eyed the flowers from Rahn, which were a symbol of his love—and a reminder of the secret she carried because of that love. With her purse on her shoulder and keys in hand, Shae said good night to the handful of lingering staffers and then headed home.
“No,” Shae whispered. Rahn’s car was parked in front of her building when she arrived. Any other time, his presence would have been a welcome sight, but tonight, she felt the uncertainty about what would happen to him—and them—while the steroid investigation dangled over their heads. She sighed, feeling defeated in her spirit. Rahn was already coming out of the door to meet her. Once she captured his swagger, Shae smiled.
All it took was one look into his soulful brown eyes, then being swallowed up in his strong arms, and Shae dismissed any reservations. She involuntarily protested when he released his hold. His cologne was drugging. “You smell good.”
With a chuckle, he squeezed her again, then brushed a kiss against her cheek. “And you smell like my favorite perfume mixed with smoke. God knows I’ve missed you, woman.”
“I’ve missed you, too, but I’ve needed you here with what’s going on.”
“I know.” Securing her hand in his, he turned and guided her inside. “The press was at the airport.”
Waving at Mr. Chapman as she cleared the door, Shae steered Rahn to the lounge area in the lobby. Her condo was still off-limits to him, with no chaperones around. Finding a more secluded spot, they sat and snuggled together. Shae stared out the window.
“Talk to me, baby.”
Angling her body, Shae faced him. His loving smile made her words more difficult. She admired the beard and mustache that outlined his full lips. Shae exhaled at the long lashes that were the envy of any woman. She continued her assessment. Rahn’s skin was void of any razor mishaps, making it smooth to the touch. But Shae already knew all of that. Why was she stalling? “This is hard. I don’t like secrets, and—”
“Shh.”
Shae’s eyelids drifted closed as Rahn brushed his fingertips on her lips.
“Me, either,” he whispered. “But we could be worrying over nothing. If my name doesn’t show up on the radar, then it remains in the past.” He sounded hopeful.
Opening her eyes, she gritted her teeth. “I hate to be the bearer of unpleasant news, but your name is already being circulated around my newsroom.”
Rahn’s body stiffened. “What do you mean, ‘circulated in your newsroom’? Please tell me you didn’t mention anything we talked about.” He squinted as his nostrils flared.
His apparent attitude caused her to develop one of her own. “Of course not!” Did he really think she would betray him? His accusation stung. Yet, Shae tried to shake it off as she reasoned with him. “Just think about being proactive, babe. Don’t wait for someone to run your name in the mud. Beat the devil to the punch, so you won’t have to look over your shoulder when this story resurfaces. I guarantee you, this isn’t going away.”
Bobbing his head, Rahn glanced around the quiet lobby. That gesture proved he was at least thinking about what she’d just said. Then he said quietly, “And my reputation will be tainted forever for a stupid decision I made. I can’t believe you’re suggesting this. I refuse to look back. I’ve repented, and God has forgiven me. It’s a done deal. I’m guiltless.”
He frowned. “What’s the real motive here? Will my admission make you look good among your peers?” Rahn didn’t wait for her response. “I don’t know what’s going on inside that beautiful head of yours, but if you broadcast any word of what I’ve confided in the woman who professes to love me…” His mouth twisted; Rahn was quiet as he avoided eye contact with her. “I’ll deny it.”
Surely, she hadn’t heard right. She blinked as her heart sank. Was he basically daring her to say anything, and had he no qualms about backsliding so easily into a lie? What kind of Christian man was this? Alex’s face flashed before her eyes. Not again.
Girl, don’t take that! the devil taunted her.
In this instance, Shae took the devil’s bait. Getting to her feet, she stared at Rahn. The hurt, the love, her faith in him—all the emotions battled for dominance. She opened her mouth to call him a coward, and a few other choice words she would never utter to the man she loved, so she closed her mouth and took a deep breath. “Good night.�
�
With her head held high and her heart sinking low, Shae carefully measured each step to the bank of elevators without a backward glance. Otherwise, she would collapse, coming to grips with the fact that she had lost again. This time, there might not be a recovery.
31
Rahn shook his head. What was I thinking? Why did I say that? Standing, he stuffed his hands into his pants’ pockets and watched Shae’s beautiful, retreating figure. That wasn’t the homecoming he’d wanted or expected. What she was asking of him was career suicide. How could she even suggest that he put himself out there unnecessarily?
Once the elevator doors closed, Rahn rubbed the back of his neck and stormed out of the building. He passed Mr. Chapman as if he wasn’t there. The tranquility of the stars twinkling in the night sky did nothing to calm him. He fought the temptation to turn around and count the floors to her window for that beacon of light.
Was this their first argument? He had too much on his plate to think about an apology. Rahn got behind the wheel of his Audi and pulled into traffic. The drive back home seemed twice as long with the constant instant replays plaguing him: what she had said, what he had said, and what she had said again.
He had to question himself: “Am I willing to lie?” He shivered in disbelief of his statement and actions. “Pitiful. God, what kind of example am I of You?” His vision blurred temporarily.
As he accelerated to change lanes on the interstate, Rahn continued to berate himself. This was not how he had anticipated his Christian walk to be. Wasn’t life supposed to be easier?
Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but I will deliver you out of them all. God made His presence known, reminding Rahn of Psalm 34:19.
Can You, Lord? Can You get me out of this web I’ve gotten myself tangled in? Rahn wanted to believe Jesus could.
A construction sign about an upcoming detour caught his eye. As he passed the exit, Rahn thought it appeared to be legit, but so had the one the night of the ambush. “Lord, it seems my life has been a constant detour for more than a week.”
Rahn had no one he could confide in. He had already upset his mother and angered the woman he loved; and after Marcus’s speech, Rahn had begun to pull away from him, too. This had become a nightmare. Who else did he have?
You have Me. Come unto Me when your burdens are heavy, and I will give you rest, God urged him.
He had read that in Matthew somewhere, but how could it be that easy? “Lord, why would You even have anything to do with me? If I’m so quick to sin, maybe You haven’t saved me.” He couldn’t shake the doubt.
Do you not know that I call many but choose few? God reasoned with him from that same book in the Bible. Once I speak something into existence, My Word shall accomplish that which I please. Your salvation is sure and shall prosper. Read My Word in Isaiah 55.
The Lord’s voice ceased as Rahn reached his estate. He was in awe that God still loved him, but he hungered for more time with Jesus. Inside his house, Rahn walked straight to his home library and retrieved his study Bible from his desk. At this point, he needed all the Scriptures to make it through and out of this mess.
Feeling like a fool, Rahn called Shae to apologize, but he wasn’t surprised when he got her voice mail. He debated whether to leave a message when he wanted the real thing. They had had spats over silly stuff, but never had they hung up angry at each other. “I know this is a strain on our relationship and a test of our love. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things to you. I’m still struggling about what I should do. Keep praying for me, baby. Night.”
She never called back.
***
Shae rolled over in bed and used the pillow to both drown out the ringing and catch her tears. Her head was still pounding after her argument with Rahn. “Why torture yourself?” she asked as she reached for her phone. Then, she held her breath as she listened to his voice mail.
He was wrong about one thing. It just didn’t feel right in her spirit to accept his decision on this matter.
The next morning, her phone rang again. Lethargic from a lack of sleep, she knocked it off her nightstand first, then grabbed it before it went to voice mail. The name on the caller ID was blurred as she answered. “Hello?”
“Okay, what’s going on?” Shari was on the other end, speaking in her attorney tone.
“I’m trying to sleep.” Shae moaned, hoping her sister would catch the hint that this wasn’t a good time.
“Wake up. I’m hearing rumors that the list of players using steroids is growing. Is Rahn one of them?” She never beat around the bush.
Blinking until she was fully alert, Shae sprang up into a sitting position. There was no way she could answer that. Rahn had already accused her of being a snitch. That hurt more than his threatening to lie. “What are you talking about?”
“Stupidity doesn’t run in our family. My advice—as your sister first and then as your attorney—is to distance yourself while this is front-page news, or, as your profession would say, the top story. Your credibility as a journalist could come into question if the public finds out that you knew something but failed to report it. Next to us attorneys, the media is supposed to stand for justice and be unbiased.”
“I love him,” Shae whispered, still evading the question.
“Sis, I like Rahn. The entire family does. I know you love him, but you’ve been through the fire before with a man, and you were a hot mess when you came out. Stay out of the fire and protect your heart and image first. This is his trial. Let the Lord fight his battle.”
But alone? Shae sniffed as uncontrollable tears trickled down her cheeks. When her sister began to pray, Shae listened silently. “Thank you.”
“Anytime. I’ll have my clerk bill you for the consultation.”
That remark made Shae crack a smile until laughter exploded from within her. Shari joined in. Once Shae was quiet, Shari threw her a kiss, then hung up.
It was mid-morning on her day off. Any other time when Rahn was at home, they would be sharing breakfast, exploring the city, or relaxing at a matinee. None of the above. Not today. Her sister had been right to verbalize what was going through the back of her own mind. Would her colleagues view her silence on the scandal as guilt by association?
Rahn had made a choice. “And I have to make mine,” she decided, right before calling him back. When he answered, the deep richness of his voice made her tongue-tied. Her heart fought her resolve. He didn’t rush her as they waited to see who would be the first to speak.
“I’m sorry, too,” Shae finally whispered.
His heavy sigh sounded like one of relief. “Baby, this shouldn’t have come between us. I need your support on this. Agree?”
This was more than a simple “agree to disagree” argument. She shook her head before answering, “No, I don’t agree. The devil will ride your back every time someone else releases a new book or someone else is caught and wants to bring others down with him. I disagree, and I’m a nervous wreck. I love you, but I need to—”
“What? Walk away?”
She didn’t like his tone. “No…not be so visible, so up-close and personal. I can be your cheerleader from afar.”
“Shae, why skirt the issue? I need a woman by my side through thick and thin. I thought you were that woman.” Rahn disconnected without saying good-bye.
What? Her jaw was still slack as it registered he had hung up on her—the ultimate no-no. Now she was really mad. Hurt, too, but madder that he’d had the nerve to end their call so rudely.
The next few days proved very difficult to love Rahn from afar, especially with the team playing at home. Not that Shae attended all of his home games, but she tried. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait until his next road trip. She needed the distance between them, because knowing they were so close but not together was almost unbearable. She exhaled when he left town for a long road trip.
It was upon his return that Shae ignored—or tried to ignore with dignity—the whispers at work
on speculations why Rahn’s flowers had stopped coming to the station. When her colleagues asked about Rahn, Shae’s reply was short and sweet: “We’re not together anymore.” Her tone indicated there would be no further Q&A, but that didn’t stop her news director from prying.
“Perfect.” He grinned and leaned on her desk with both hands, almost panting like a puppy. “What do you know?”
“Excuse me?” I care about this man, and you’re ready to destroy him! she wanted to scream. “Nothing that I could pass on.” She held her ground. Rahn had confided in her, and she loved him enough to honor his confidence, even if she couldn’t honor his decision.
32
Rahn had voluntarily submitted to a drug test along with hundreds of other players. The results would hopefully bring an end to the controversy and quiet the allegations against him. He hadn’t spoken to Shae since the day of their disagreement.
“The poor girl. That’s way too much to put on someone in her position,” his mother said, defending Shae’s actions. “The only reason I can’t disown you is because I birthed you.”
“That comforting,” Rahn said dryly. “Thanks.” So it is what it is.
Despite the chaos around them, the Cardinals held on to their lead in the National League Central Division against the Atlanta Braves by seven games. The heat the media and the Baseball Commissioner put on the team only served to fuel the players’ determination to prove they were worthy of all accolades. A week before the playoffs, the Baseball Commissioner announced a press conference. Marcus and Rahn were in the hotel with their eyes glued to the flat-screen television.
After fumbling with the microphone, the commissioner steadied the device, looked sternly into the camera, and apologized to sports fans. “We want baseball to remain the pastime of American sports. In order to do that, we must uphold the integrity of the game.
“Unfortunately, we keep revisiting this infesting issue within our organization. In two thousand and two, when we started testing players for performance-enhancing drugs, we thought the fines and penalties would deter further unethical activity. Players had five chances to get their act together. There was a ten-game suspension after a first positive test result, a thirty-game suspension after a second positive result, a sixty-game suspension after a third positive—that’s one-third of the season—the fourth was one full year, and then the fifth was a penalty at my discretion. Yet that was not enough.” He shook his head with a look of disgust before continuing.
