A Lova' Like No Otha' (21 page)

He sounded happy as he told me the news, and I was actually happy for him. Devyn had always wanted a son. I hoped this little life would make him step up to the plate and take responsibility for what was his.

And it was time for me to take responsibility for my life as well. I didn't even want to think about what was going to happen next in my life. There was always something going on. I just wasn't sure what shape the next challenge would take.

I wanted to continue to look at things through God's eyes and hold on to Him for strength, like a blind man trusting his dog to lead. I was determined to learn that lesson and live it.

My thoughts were interrupted when my phone rang.

“Zoe, it's Shay.”

“Hey girl,” I exclaimed, glad to hear from my friend. I had only spoken to her for a minute when I was in Miami. “I was about to call you to see if you got my note saying I was back. I didn't want to wake you. Do you want me to cook dinner tonight? I have a lot to tell you.”

“Dinner? Zoe, haven't you heard about the rape?”

My breathing became erratic. The next challenge was rushing at me already. “What are you talking about?”

“It's all over the news. The police said Chase raped that cheerleader.”

“What?” I nearly dropped the receiver.

“Coach Sykes is supposed to hold a press conference from your upstairs offices. What are you doin' sittin' at your desk, girl?”

I peeked over the wall of my cubicle. The rest of the staff was gone. The place was as quiet as a tomb. Now that I thought about it, I had noticed a frantic atmosphere when I came in that morning. I'd just figured, with the team doing so well, everyone was hyped about the play-offs. I never thought about the possibility of there being trouble. Especially not this kind of trouble. And not with Chase!

“Find a TV quick, girl,” Shay shouted. “The reporters are talkin' to your boy, and he's sittin' in the back of a police car.”

Hearing lots of sirens, I dropped the phone and ran to a window overlooking the parking lot between the offices and the stadium. Media vans were everywhere, surrounding a black-and-white cruiser with its lights flashing. Reporters wielding microphones followed the vehicle as it drove away. I couldn't see if Chase was in the car, but I hoped it wasn't him.

I rushed toward the conference room, shoving my way through a mass of television news crews. “Where have you been?” Mr. Ware asked, ushering me to a seat in the front row.

“I didn't know we were holding a press conference,” I said meekly.

“I was sure someone would have told you,” he said. “I'm sorry.”

Our hushed conversation was interrupted by the coach clearing his throat at the podium. A dozen microphones were planted in front of him, and cameramen flashed photos every two seconds.

“I have had the chance to speak to Chase Farr,” the coach began, “and we are firmly standing behind him. He has denied these allegations, and anyone who knows him will testify that he's a model human being, both on the field and off.”

“This is crazy,” I whispered to myself. Chase? Accused of rape? I had tried to give it to him and he turned me down. I know he would never take it from anybody. “This is a bunch of bull,” I muttered.

Coach Sykes acknowledged one of the reporters, all of whom were flailing their hands in the air, trying to ask questions.

“Sir, the Storm cheerleaders have a reputation for conducting themselves with high moral standards. Do you really think this girl is lying?”

Oh, hush,
I wanted to shout.
You don't even know Chase. Or that witch of a cheerleader. If you did, you'd know perfectly well which one was lying.

“We do stress to all of our cheerleaders the importance of high ethical standards,” Coach answered. “However, I do not have direct interaction with these girls. I don't know this particular young lady personally. I hope this was all simply a misunderstanding. Until we have further details, that's all I can say at this point.”

Another reporter asked, “Coach Sykes, you've got a big game coming up this weekend. Is Chase Farr going to play?”

“We're hoping so,” Coach answered. “We need him on the field, and I am going to do everything in my power to make sure that happens. But at this time, the most important thing is for this situation to be cleared up.” He looked around the room. “One more question, and then I must get back to my team.”

Several reporters fought for the privilege. Coach Sykes chose one.

“Last week the GM said you were hoping to sign Chase Farr to an extended contract, making him one of this team's franchise players. That deal allegedly had a lucrative signing bonus. Will those negotiations be tabled until it's determined whether or not you have a criminal on your hands?”

The room buzzed. The coach's voice silenced the din. “All I can say right now is that Chase Farr is an outstanding player, and our organization would be happy to have him with us for a long time. Our other players, many of whom have been here for years, are playing to a higher level now with Chase on board. This young athlete gives an incredible amount of physical talent to this team. But more important, he also gives his heart. Chase Farr really cares about his team, his teammates and this community. He has shown us all how to step up a notch and make great things happen.”

I was thrilled to hear something positive being said about Chase in the midst of all this rubbish.

“It's a tragedy that such a man is accused of this heinous crime,” Coach Sykes continued. “Until we have some solid evidence to the contrary, I personally am going to believe he's innocent.” Coach Sykes left the podium, surrounded by insistent reporters.

I followed the reporters until they gave up chasing Coach Sykes. Then I continued to trail him down the hall. “Coach,” I said.

He turned, looking exasperated. “Yes, young lady?”

“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 to 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.