Love Finds You in Romeo, Colorado

by Gwen Ford Faulkenberry

  Dr. Banks followed, and Joe noticed that he scarcely looked at the page in his lap as his voice resonated: “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he restores my soul. He guides me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.”

  Dr. Banks paused tentatively, as though he could barely keep himself from going on.

  Jerry smiled at him. “Okay, that’s great. I know Psalm Twenty-three in its entirety is precious to many of us, but I just want to focus on one aspect of it tonight.”

  He wrote several phrases on the board:

  Good Shepherd.

  I know them.

  Hear My voice.

  Know Me and follow Me.

  “I was thinking earlier about what it means that Jesus is our Good Shepherd. There are many, many things we receive because He is our Shepherd, but in these verses, I want to focus on His guidance.”

  Jerry went on in his quiet, methodical way, drawing out the relationship between a sheep and a shepherd. He explained how, as the Bible says, they know one another. The shepherd knows all about his sheep and their needs, and the sheep know and rely on their shepherd. His voice is the one they listen to for guidance.

  “Joe, when you didn’t know what to do today, the voice of the Holy Spirit spoke to your heart.”

  “That’s true, man. It was as clear as a bell. One moment I had no idea where to turn—I thought everything I’d tried to do with Mickey was lost—and then the guidance came in the nick of time. And look at Mickey’s response—it’s amazing. I know it was the Holy Spirit working in both of our lives to bring us to that point.”

  “We’ve been praying for you both,” Martina said. She had left the restaurant early to come to the home group, while Jesús stayed behind and cooked.

  Frieda spoke up next. “It reminds me of another verse, here in Isaiah chapter thirty, verse twenty-one, which says, “Whether you turn to the right or to the left, your ears will hear a voice behind you, saying, ‘This is the way; walk in it.’”

  Stephen elbowed Joe and whispered, “Sounds like the coach got some coaching today.”

  “Yeah, and I needed it.”

  Jerry turned back to the marker board to write, Feed My sheep.

  “One last thing I wanted to touch upon has to do with a command Jesus gave to his disciples. In John twenty-one, verse seventeen, He told them—and us, too—to feed His sheep. What do you guys think that means?”

  “I’ve heard lots of preachers say they feed people by preaching,” Dr. Banks remarked.

  “Okay, yeah. What else?” Jerry asked.

  “Probably teaching, witnessing, those types of things,” Martina added.

  Stephen surprised Joe by clearing his throat.

  “Well, I suppose this is not very sophisticated, but I have a couple of sheep, and when I feed them I’m just meeting their basic needs.”

  Everyone in the room focused their attention on Stephen, who spoke more like a simple farmer than an MD. “I’ve got one penned up in the barn with a broken leg right now, and if I don’t bring her food, she can’t get it any other way. It’s not always convenient, but she would die if I didn’t feed her.”

  Joe noticed Frieda smiling and Dr. Banks nodding his head.

  Jerry clasped his hands together. “That’s an interesting perspective, Stephen, and I sense a good one to end on. Gives us all something to think about. How can we witness to people if we’re not meeting their basic needs? Thanks, man, for that.”

  The meeting concluded with a hymn that Sue played on the piano and Frieda, in her great soulful alto, led.

  “Savior, like a shepherd lead us,

  Much we need Thy tender care;

  In Thy pleasant pastures feed us,

  For our use Thy folds prepare:

  Blessed Jesus, Blessed Jesus,

  Thou hast bought us, Thine we are;

  Blessed Jesus, Blessed Jesus,

  Thou hast bought us, Thine we are.”

  After football practice the next day, Joe was prepared to run the sleds with Mickey, even looking forward to it. But he didn’t have to. A group of seniors on the team lined up across the field and took turns with Mickey until all ten sets were done. Then they repeated this action the next day—which was the last.

  If he had tried to plan it on his own, Joe could not have come up with a better exercise to build teamwork. The seniors were unified and leading, the rest of the team was fired up and following, and Mickey was stronger than ever. By game time on Friday, the Manassa Grizzlies would hit an all-time physical and emotional high.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  “Mom! We have to go to the football game tonight! Billy Sanford says the Manassa Mauler is going to break the school record for tackles.” Graeme brimmed with excitement as he opened the car door in front of Manassa Elementary. Climbing into the backseat, he buckled himself loosely in the center so he could lean in and talk to Claire better. “I’m so glad you let me get out of that booster seat. It was a little humiliating!”

  Claire grinned at his use of such a big word. Before pulling out of the school’s driveway, she leaned back and kissed him on the cheek.

  “You know I just want you to be safe. But I agree with you that it was time.”

  “Yeah, I mean Billy Sanford and even Gabbie don’t have to sit in boosters anymore. You’re not supposed to in kindergarten!”

  “I know, I know. And while we don’t set our standards for safety—or anything else—by other people, you are legally big enough,” Claire explained, feeling like a square. “Did you have a good day?”

  “Yeah, I did. We got to play with modeling clay in art, and I made this one-eyed monster with snakes coming out of his head.”

  “Sounds…cool.”

  “Billy Sanford and I were sitting together at the table and we had a war with our monsters.”

  Graeme’s face was very animated, and he spoke with the conviction of Muhammad Ali.

  “His was wimpy, though. It looked like a spider. Mine was round and could take its eyeball out and roll right over his, smashing it flat like a pancake.” Graeme clapped his hands together and squeezed, to emphasize his monster’s flattening prowess.

  Claire laughed. “Sounds like that monster was a Manassa Mauler in art today.”

  Graeme admonished her. “No, Mom, it was a Medusa monster. That’s what I named it because of the snakes.”

  Claire was impressed, as usual, by her son’s intellectual process. “Oh, I see. Well, what did you make the snakes out of?”

  “Pipe cleaners. They were all different colors. And I twisted them around all spirally.”

  “Sounds like my hair when I get out of the shower.”

  “Yeah, it is kind of like that,” Graeme said thoughtfully. “But you have two eyes.”

  Claire was chuckling silently to herself when her cell phone rang. She flipped it open. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Claire.”

  It was Stephen! Claire’s heart skipped a beat.

  “May I speak to Graeme?”

  What’s he up to? “Uh, sure. He’s right here.”

  Claire handed the phone, a little warily, back to Graeme.

  “It’s Dr. Reyes,” she told him.

  “Hi,” Graeme said cheerfully into the receiver. He loved engaging in such a grown-up activity as talking on the phone.

  Claire could hear Stephen’s voice, but it sounded to her like an adult figure on a Peanuts movie. She could not make out the words.

  Graeme spoke up excitedly. “Yeah, I know! Billy Sanford says it’s the biggest game of the year!”

  Claire negotiated a turn, leaving Manassa for Romeo, while Graeme and Stephen continued their conversation.

  “Uh huh,” Graeme was saying. “Yeah. That sounds really cool.”

  There were more unintelligible sounds, and then Graeme said, “Okay. I’ll ask her. Hold on a second.”

  He held the phone out from his ear, covering the mouth
piece with one hand. “Mom, would you go on a date with me and Dr. Reyes tonight?”

  “You and Dr. Reyes?” Claire was incredulous.

  “Yeah. We really want to go to the football game, and we’d like you to go with us.”

  “I see.”

  Graeme grinned conspiratorially from ear to ear. He was unbelievably cute, even if he was her kid.

  “What time would we be going?” Claire asked him.

  “What time would we be going?” Graeme repeated verbatim into the phone and then listened carefully for Stephen’s answer.

  Whatever Stephen said, Graeme made a face. “But I wanted to pick.”

  Claire could hear silence from the other end as Graeme seemed to be considering his options.

  Finally he sighed, covering the mouthpiece again with his hand, and said, “He could come get us about five thirty, and you get to pick where we eat. That’s because we’re gentlemen.” Her son looked less than convinced about the value of the last part.

  Claire smiled at him. “Do you want to go?” she whispered.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “Okay. Then tell him I accept. We’ll see him at five thirty.”

  “We’ll see you at five thirty!” Graeme called into the phone. “’Bye!” And he flipped the phone closed before he handed it back to Claire.

  Stephen pulled up to the Casa at five thirty sharp. Graeme, who watched the road from Claire’s bedroom window while she got ready, announced his arrival with a “Whoop!” and rushed down the stairs to meet him.

  Claire’s heart was touched at the sight of Graeme so happy and excited. She thought it was ingenious of Stephen to arrange the date as he did. A month ago, she might have been offended at the short notice, even angered by Stephen’s presumption and her lack of control in the matter. But at this point, she felt only joy. How nice it was to be this comfortable with someone, to feel she’d made a real friend.

  Claire turned around in front of the mirror, lingering just a moment over her appearance in her black pants and turtleneck. She’d tried a new, copper-colored eye shadow and was pleased with how it enhanced the color of her eyes. As she pulled on her green wool blazer and sprayed just a whisper of perfume, she congratulated herself on her outfit—and her newfound ability to let go and live a little. Only maybe it wasn’t newfound, she corrected herself. Maybe it’s just being resurrected.

  Claire walked down the stairs into the great room, measuring her steps so as not to seem too eager. Graeme and Stephen were not at the door, as she expected them to be; she could hear by their voices that they had moved to the living room. As she approached, she saw Stephen closest to her on the slip-covered couch next to Graeme, who was setting up Dino-checkers. Abuelita was sitting across from them in her rocking chair. They hadn’t noticed her yet. Claire stopped just short of the arched stucco doorway.

  “Graeme, I don’t believe you have time for Dino-checkers,” Abuelita was saying. “At least not if you are going out to eat before the ball game.”

  Graeme looked back and forth from Abuelita to Stephen, contemplating whether to push it.

  “How about a quick Dino-battle instead?” Stephen picked up one of the plastic dinosaurs from the checkerboard and held it in attack position.

  “I get the T. rex!” Graeme yelled, grabbing it off a square.

  “Roar!” Stephen snarled as he sprinted his brown stegosaur forward on the couch like a charging bull.

  Graeme growled back, baring his little teeth and gnashing them together, sending a shower of saliva into Stephen’s face. He plunged the tyrannosaur’s mouth onto the stego’s front leg and wiggled it wildly, dramatizing what would have been the loss of that dinosaur’s leg had Stephen not fought it loose.

  Stephen then turned his dinosaur around and butted Graeme’s green T. rex with the stegosaur’s rubber bony plates. “Take that, and that, and that!” he said with emphasis as he slashed the stego’s tail back and forth.

  “Did you know those spikes on the stego’s tail were probably three feet long?” Graeme asked him.

  Stephen paused in his action and looked at Graeme sideways. “Really?”

  “Really!” Graeme confirmed. Then, seizing his opportunity, Graeme grabbed the stegosaur again with the T. rex’s teeth, wrenching it free from Stephen’s grip. “But they are no match for the T. rex’s giant razor-sharp teeth!” He shook the smaller dinosaur like a dog would a piece of meat and then tossed it across the room, where it landed on Abuelita’s stockinged foot.

  “Watch it!” she warned.

  “Man!” Stephen exclaimed. “You got me.”

  “I guess my T. rex outsmarted your walnut-sized brain,” Graeme remarked, raising his eyebrows and nodding his head coolly while Stephen laughed.

  “Graeme!” Abuelita chided. “Watch your mouth.”

  “I didn’t mean he had a walnut-sized brain, Abuelita, just the stegosaur.”

  Abuelita shot him a look that was clearly skeptical.

  Claire walked into the room then and clasped her hands together. “Is everybody ready?”

  “Wow—you look pretty,” Stephen praised her, rising.

  “I just defeated Stephen in a Dino-battle,” Graeme said proudly. Her son’s face was lit up in a full-wattage smile.

  “I see. Well, congratulations. But don’t you mean ‘Dr. Reyes’?”

  Graeme looked back and forth from his mother to Stephen. Then he gave Stephen a slight punch on the arm, like they were old comrades.

  “Actually, I mean Stephen. He said I could call him that, didn’t you, Stephen?”

  Claire searched Stephen’s face for any hint of uncertainty. She found none. “You did?”

  “I did,” he admitted, suddenly looking like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “I mean—if that’s okay with you,” he added sheepishly.

  Claire and Abuelita exchanged a look. Then Claire punched Stephen lightly on the arm. “Well, that’s okay with me,” she conceded.

  He grabbed her hand and squeezed it before letting it go.

  “Why don’t you come with us?” Stephen offered to Abuelita, who had also risen from her seat.

  “I can’t, but thank you for the invitation,” Abuelita said.

  “What are you doing tonight, Abuelita?” Claire asked.

  “I am hosting a meeting of the OFS,” Abuelita told her. “In fact, I need to get my tapas together before everyone arrives.”

  “Hmm.” Stephen seemed to be considering the acronym. Claire widened her eyes at him and shook her head, but he didn’t seem to get the message. “What is the OFS?” he finally asked.

  “It is a pillar of this community,” Abuelita answered. “A very old and prestigious institution.”

  “Really,” Stephen said. “Sounds interesting. I’m surprised I’ve never heard of it. What does OFS stand for?”

  Abuelita’s smile was so sweet it might as well have been dripping with honey. “OFS—the Old Farts’ Society.”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  The Manassa Grizzlies rode in a caravan to La Jara, which was only about fifteen minutes away. The team buses led, the band followed, a pep bus full of students came next, and the cheerleaders, in the school’s minibus, brought up the rear. Of course, trailing them like a string of colorful beads were cars full of parents and other fans, headed by Jesús and Martina Rodriguez. They had closed Art and Sol for the occasion, and it was just as well, because from the looks of things, Romeo would be a ghost town tonight. Most of the town’s population, including Stephen, Claire, and Graham, were on their way to the game.

  All along the twelve-mile stretch from Manassa to La Jara there were signs on butcher paper taped to the fences near the highway. Some of them, compliments of Frieda’s Grizzly cheer squad, sent encouraging messages. Go Grizzlies, one read. And another, Bears are #1.

  But the closer they got to La Jara, the more ominous the signs became. Falcons Rule the Roost and Bears, Go Back to Your Den, they taunted. The worst one of all was on the gate leading
into La Jara High School. It said, Welcome to Your Worst Nightmare.

  Stephen loved football. After all, he was a high school standout and a college quarterback. For football in southern Colorado, it didn’t get any better than La Jara versus Manassa, and this particular game was an important one.

  Plus, Stephen’s best friend was the coach, so he had a personal stake in what was happening on the field. The record-number crowd was going crazy. Any other time, he would have been glued to a game like this. But tonight Stephen couldn’t take his eyes off Claire Caspian.

  Graeme had found his friend Billy Sanford in the nosebleed section, thanks to Billy’s carrot-red hair. That was where the only remaining seats could be found by the time they arrived during pregame warm-ups. Claire and Stephen had followed Graeme’s lead up the cold metal bleachers to the fourth row from the top. There, Graeme plopped down by Billy, Claire beside Graeme, and Stephen next to her. A family of four filed in behind them, squeezing everyone together on the row like sardines. But Stephen didn’t mind.

  He could smell the scent of jasmine in Claire’s hair. The wool of her green jacket scratched against the sleeve of his leather one every time she moved. Their legs touched, and once in a while she rested her small, lovely hand on his knee. Graeme appeared happy; Claire seemed happy; Stephen was happy. It was a winning combination.

  “Do you want to go to Taos with me tomorrow?” he whispered loudly in her ear, trying to make sure she heard above the cheering Grizzly fans.

  “Yes,” she said simply.

  Stephen hoped she had heard him correctly. He wasn’t used to her answering him with such little reserve.

  “What’s in Taos?” Exuberance spread over her face like a sunrise.

  “A cool art gallery, an excellent restaurant, and you, if you’ll go with me,” he grinned. She had heard him.

  “Sounds good to me. I’ll check with Abuelita about Graeme, but I know it will be okay.”

  Stephen imagined Abuelita at her meeting of the OFS. “Your abuelita is very naughty,” he commented.

  “I know. And you walked right into that one. I tried my best to warn you.”