Stephen looked out at the landscape through which they were driving. With its pristine blue sky and long stretches of nothingness, it was similar to where they lived in the San Luis Valley. The San Juan Mountains bordered the road to the west, standing like silent guards, and after a stretch of desert, the Sangre de Cristo Range rose up around them in the east. Claire could tell by Stephen’s brows and the set of his jaw that he was thinking about something.
“Claire?”
“Yes?”
“Do you believe that everything happens for a reason?”
“I do—but I hate it when people use that phrase.”
Stephen laughed lightly. “What do you mean?”
“Well, it was ingrained in me early. I can still remember people telling me that when my parents were killed. Maybe they don’t mean it this way, but when people use that expression, the implication is that whatever happened was worth it. You know? ‘God killed my parents so that many people would be saved.’ That didn’t make sense to me then, and it still doesn’t. It would never be worth it to a kid—or to anyone who has seen a loved one suffer. I have never wanted anyone to say that to Graeme.”
“Have they?”
“A few times. It’s a pretty typical response for some Christians, especially those who don’t have a clue.” Claire was instantly sorry for how bitter she sounded, and she said so.
Stephen assented. “What did you tell him?”
“I told him the same thing my abuelita told me. God loves us, and He loved Daddy. Sometimes things happen that nobody understands. Our job is to trust.”
“Sounds good—and hard.”
“I’ve said it so many times it’s become like a mantra.”
“Has it gotten any easier to believe…or to trust?”
“For a while it seemed to be impossible, but believe it or not, I think it is getting easier.”
“That’s interesting,” Stephen said. “Did you know there’s a scientific explanation for that?”
“No, I guess I was thinking of it as a spiritual thing.”
“It’s amazing to me how often the two coincide.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, for some of my continuing education, I’ve been studying up on the brain and how it can retrain itself after injury. I came across this concept called neuroplasticity, which refers to the way we can actually reshape our thought patterns—train our minds to think in different ways.”
Stephen glanced over at Claire as though he was trying to gauge whether he was boring her, but she was totally hooked.
“One of the ways is by telling ourselves things over and over, or meditating. That probably sounds so Oprah—but if we meditate on truths from the Bible—well, that’s where there’s real Spirit and life. That’s how we can really be transformed.”
“Like, ‘Pray without ceasing.’”
“Yeah, or ‘Rejoice in the Lord always.’”
“Stephen, that’s so cool!”
“I know, but I can’t take any credit for it. There’s this doctor in Arkansas—you may have heard of her—Bernadette Alberty—who put it all together. I’ve just read some of her stuff. She calls it common sense, but I think she’s probably going to start a revolution in the medical community.”
Claire hadn’t heard of Dr. Alberty, but she was impressed. “Wow,” she said, grinning. “You’ll have to tell Carlos about her. He thinks only hicks come out of Arkansas.”
Stephen turned left at Tres Piedras and onto Highway 64 toward Taos. “We kind of got off the subject,” he said, “but I want to go back to something. You said that you do believe everything happens for a reason, even though you hate that phrase.”
“Gosh, you should have been a lawyer.”
“I’m not trying to interrogate you—I just want to learn about you, remember? ‘Claire 101’?” Stephen reached over and patted her knee.
Claire took up his hand and played with it, tinkering with his long, surgeon-like fingers. “Well, Abuelita and I have talked about this a lot. Her take on it has always been that everything in the universe ultimately happens to bring glory to Jesus. He doesn’t owe us any other explanation.” She slid her fingers through his and rested their entwined hands on her knee. “Abuelita has two mantras: ‘In acceptance is peace,’ and ‘In trust is joy.’”
“She must have been at those for a long time,” Stephen said.
“As long as I can remember.”
Just northwest of Taos on Highway 64, Stephen asked Claire if she wanted to stop at the Rio Grande Gorge Bridge. She did, and they pulled over along with a few other tourists and walked up to the gorge. The cold wind whipped Claire’s hair, and she was grateful for the warmth of Stephen’s arm around her.
The view from the bridge was magnificent. Six hundred and fifty feet below, a tiny yellow raft flowed by, carrying a group of adventurers down the Rio Grande River. Claire had done that before with her church youth group. As she stood there beside Stephen, random thoughts of people and experiences surfaced in her brain, and she wondered briefly what he was thinking about. The bridge reminded her of Thornton Wilder. It also reminded her a little bit of her dream. She was getting lost in a reverie when Stephen’s voice broke through the silence.
“I wish I had my camera,” he said, his breath warm beside her ear.
Claire turned to him. “We can buy a postcard, I’m sure.”
“I didn’t want a picture of the gorge.”
Like a magnet, his smile pulled her forward.
“You know, you’re a really good kisser,” he told her when they were back in the truck.
Claire reddened. “So are you—a little too good.”
When they reached Taos, Claire was stunned to see how much the village had changed. As a teenager and even a college student, she had been there several times to snow ski. She, Rob, and a group from the Honors College at Adams had done a service project once at the Taos Pueblo, to interact with the Native American village and tribe. That was their senior year. But she hadn’t returned to Taos since she left college. Even though it was only an hour and a half from Romeo, she and Rob had never driven back there during their visits to Abuelita’s.
“We can do whatever you want, but I was thinking we’d park downtown and then walk around. There’s a restaurant my sister told me about, tucked into a little hole in the wall. It’s on Kit Carson Road. She says it’s the best in town.”
“How is your sister doing?” Claire asked. “I sure appreciate how she takes care of Graeme. His asthma is well under control.” Since the mystery of Maria’s relationship to Stephen was solved, Claire had realized how much she liked the other woman.
“She’s great. I just talked to her this morning; she was at the airport in Colorado Springs. Her husband finally made it home from Colombia, and she took this week off to be with him. I’m going up there Monday night to see them both.” He pulled into a public parking space. “Is this okay with you?”
“This is great. I love to walk.”
Claire waited while Stephen came around the truck to open her door, and she hopped out. It was not nearly as windy in Taos proper as it had been at the gorge, but she still needed her jacket. Stephen grabbed his from the backseat.
“Are you hungry? Do you want to eat now?” he asked her.
“Actually, I am. I didn’t eat much breakfast.”
Stephen glanced at his nickel-colored watch. “Well, it is almost noon. Why don’t we head on over to find Roberto’s?”
They crossed the street in front of them and started down Kit Carson Road. Forgetting her hunger, Claire was tempted to stop at several of the quaint shops and studios that lined the street. Sculptors, glass artists, metalworkers, and weavers sitting in their doorways drew her in.
She and Stephen reached the end of the street before she knew it. There, on the corner under a faded red awning, was a wooden door. Hand-painted letters, in peeling white, pronounced Roberto’s. But there was one problem. A sign written on notebook paper was tape
d to the door. In haphazard letters, it read, “Gone skiing. Be back at dinner.”
“Oh, man!” Stephen looked really disappointed.
“That’s pretty funny. I’ll have to tell Martina and Jesús about that one.”
“I’m sure there’s other good food here, but that’s the only place I know about.” He looked at Claire hopefully. “Do you know of any others?”
“Well, there used to be a fun little place in the ski valley called Tim’s Stray Dog Cantina, but we’d have to drive out there,” Claire told him. “Then there’s Lambert’s—it’s kind of fancy. They serve antelope and other stuff like that. We passed it on the way into town. But I don’t know if they’re open for lunch.”
“Do you want to drive out to the ski valley?” Stephen asked her.
“Nah. Let’s just find a place around here. Anything’s fine with me.”
When she said that, Stephen seemed to relax. It was cute to Claire that he felt so responsible, and she wanted him to know she was having a good time. A great time, actually. The best she’d had in years.
“Back up the street there’s a place called Tapas,” Claire offered. “I saw it when we passed. Want to try it?”
“Sure—okay.”
The food at Tapas was nothing special, but that didn’t keep Claire and Stephen from having fun.
“The best laid plans of mice and men—” he began as they exited the restaurant.
She finished his sentence, linking her arm through his. “—sometimes go awry.” And as they walked across the Plaza, she added, under her breath, “And sometimes God has other plans.”
“Your abuelita would be proud.”
They browsed through the many art galleries, which featured oil paintings, watercolors, photographs, drawings, pottery, woodworks, and ceramics.
In one jewelry store Claire was particularly taken with a pendant made from old stained glass. It was a fragment in the rugged shape of a raindrop, and the color was a dazzling aqua blue. The artist said he gleaned the piece from a broken church window that had been thrown away. Some forgotten process, done to the original window, gave it a luminous quality. He didn’t know what the piece of glass had been a part of, perhaps the sky or the sea, he suggested. It was set in a gleaming silver lining.
Claire turned it over and over, and it shimmered in her hand. She fingered the glass reverently, thinking about its story. Is this what it means to be redeemed?
While she was pondering that question, deep in her own thoughts, Stephen bought an eighteen-inch box chain and looped it through the pendant in her hand. Then, to her enchantment, he lifted her hair and fastened it around her neck. Claire didn’t know what to say, so she just hugged him for a long time. He kissed her on the head and rubbed up and down her back with a strong hand. When they walked together out of the store, the necklace sparkled like a medal on her chest.
It was late in the evening when Stephen and Claire started back to Romeo. They had strolled the streets of Taos long enough to eat a world-class dinner at the famed Roberto’s. Claire insisted on buying Stephen’s meal. This seemed to nearly do him in, but in the end he relented. She couldn’t let him pay for the whole trip and the necklace. It was just too much.
On the way home they chatted easily about Joe and Frieda, Graeme, the Patricks, the Rodriguez family, and their jobs. Claire couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so relaxed and comfortable in her own skin or with another person. She sighed contentedly. It had been a perfect day.
“What are you all doing for Thanksgiving?” Stephen asked her.
“Well, Abuelita has this idea in her head of hosting a Thanksgiving dinner for the community.”
“Really? At the Casa?”
“No, she wants to have it at the community center. That’s what the OFS was meeting about the other day.”
“I see,” Stephen said, laughing at the memory. Then he added, “That place looks pretty deserted.”
“I know—that’s what I told her—but she said there was an event there last spring. She thinks it mainly needs to be mowed and cleaned on the inside.”
“Well, let me know, and maybe I can help with that. And I might be able to round up a few others.”
“That would be great. I’ll tell her.”
“I’d like to score a few points with your abuelita,” Stephen admitted.
Claire grinned. “I think you’re doing all right in that department—with her and with Graeme.” And with me, too, she thought but didn’t say.
“What’s coming up for you this week, Stephen?” she asked him as they turned onto Highway 285.
“Well, I’m doing a pro-bono clinic on Tuesday. Dr. Banks and I worked it out at the Wound Care Center.”
“Really? Do you do that regularly?”
“No. This is the first time. But it may become a regular thing.”
“That’s interesting. What will it be like?”
“It’s for people who can’t afford to go to the doctor. Women who need breast exams and pap smears but don’t get them, men who need prostate screening. Stuff like that.”
Claire marveled at some of the subjects that so easily rolled off his tongue, but he took no notice. She supposed that to him it was all the same.
“Many of the people who need these services don’t speak English, so I hope I can effectively communicate with them. I really need to find a good Spanish tutor.” He grinned at her.
“What was the impetus for starting something like this? I mean, I think it’s great. Some of my students probably need to know about it.”
“Send them on,” Stephen said. “Dr. Banks and I got the idea the other night after Bible study. It was really more his idea—but it was in response to something I shared.”
“What’s that?” Claire was curious.
“Well, the group leader talked a lot about Jesus being the Good Shepherd and us being sheep, and then we talked about that verse that says we’re supposed to feed the sheep.” Stephen ran his hand through his hair. “Different people shared what they thought that meant, and I just told them what it’s like to do it literally. Because I have sheep, you know.”
“So this is about feeding sheep? You lost me somewhere.”
“Dr. Banks suggested we feed the Lord’s sheep by meeting some basic needs for people. You know, as a way to minister.”
“Oh! Now I get it. Abuelita’s big on that.”
Stephen grinned. “Well, you be sure to tell her I’m doing it, then.”
Claire laughed and promised that she would.
When they pulled through the gates of the Casa, it was nearly nine thirty. Stephen cut the engine and walked around to open Claire’s door. He was clearly planning to walk her to the front, but she stopped him at the garage.
“I’d invite you in, but I think I should go straight in to Graeme and give him some attention. I’m going to slip in through here. He’s probably not asleep.” She got out her garage-door opener from her purse.
“Thank you for a wonderful day,” Stephen said simply.
Claire thought in that moment that she’d never seen more honest brown eyes.
“Thank you,” she said.
Then he did something that surprised her. He reached out his hand for a handshake.
Intrigued, she offered hers in return.
“You’re going to have to help me,” he said as he gripped her hand tightly, still keeping a distance.
“Okay—uh—with what?”
“With purity.” Stephen looked down. “I don’t want to mess things up.”
This was a new one for Claire. Wow. Even Rob, when they dated, had never said anything like that.
“You’ve got a deal,” she said as she shook his hand to seal it.
Chapter Thirty
Stephen had been checking on patients in the hospital since seven o’clock, and he had just a few minutes to spend in his office before his first appointment. From the looks of his computer screen, he had a loaded schedule ahead of him, and he wasn’t lookin
g forward to it. To make matters worse, Desirae was out, having somehow managed to contract hepatitis, and he would have to go through the whole week—maybe longer—with Ashli as his substitute nurse.
“I didn’t move to a small town to be this busy,” he said to no one in particular.
“Dr. Reyes?” Irene’s nasal voice came over the speaker in the hall. “Dr. Reyes, line one.”
Stephen snatched up the phone on his desk and pressed the appropriate button.
“This is Dr. Reyes.”
“I’ve got a Nell Patrick on the phone who says she has to talk to you. Says it’s urgent. I told her you were booked solid today.” The condescension in Irene’s voice annoyed Stephen, and he could visualize her at her desk, looking down her nose through her horn-rimmed glasses.
“Put her on,” he growled.
Irene said sweetly, “Mrs. Patrick, here’s Doctor Reyes.”
“Stephen?” Nell said, her voice sounding a little ragged around the edges.
“You can hang up, now, Irene. I’ve got it.”
There was a click.
“Nell, is everything okay?”
“What rock did you find her under?”
Stephen was glad to hear that Nell’s humor was intact. He laughed. “How’s it going on the farm?”
“Oh, same as usual. Gene’s fine; I’m fine. You workin’ hard?”
“Hardly working.”
“I know that’s not true,” Nell snorted. Then, in a softer tone, she said, “Hey, you know I’d never ask you this if I didn’t think it was important. But I’ve a notion to get Marsha Evans in to see you today.”
“Really? What’s going on?”
“Well, Stan came by himself to church again yesterday. He was going to get baptized but said he’d better wait a week. Marsha didn’t feel like coming with him to watch him. Now that’s just not normal for her.”
“Have you seen her?”
“I went down there last night—she looked awful. I bet she’s lost twenty pounds. I thought about what you said about the medicine and all, and I told her we might better go to the doctor today.”
“Did she agree to come?”
Love Finds You in Romeo, Colorado Page 23
