Perfect Match (15 page)

Too late. The door closed, and the elevator descended,
Roscoe hoping that it would bypass all the other floors. Not that lucky. The
elevator stopped at each floor, gathering an assortment of hospital personnel
and visitors. One nurse kept eyeing him; he had rolled his chair into the back
corner as more passengers filled the elevator.

On the ground floor the remaining passengers flooded into
the hall. Roscoe eased out the door, scanning the directional signs quickly. As
he was turning to follow the sign pointing to entrance, the nurse who’d been
glaring at him on the elevator said, “You look a little lost.”

He was growing tense as she continued to stare. “Oh, no
ma’am. Got to go see the orthopedic assistant. One of my crutches needs an
adjustment.”

“Orthopedic is on second floor; you’re on the first.”

“I know. Thought I’d first get a couple of newspapers out
front. Never know how long the wait might be.”

She grunted. “You’re right about that. Good luck.” She
rustled off down the hall.

He felt prickly heat. He wondered why in the hell do women
have so damned many questions. What business is it of hers?

He maneuvered his wheelchair through the myriad of people as
he headed to the front entrance, through the sliding doors, down the sidewalk,
and up to the Antelope Taxi waiting for him. The driver said, “What about the
chair?”

“Leave it.” Roscoe backed himself into the rear seat,
pulling his crutches in and slamming the door.

As the cab pulled away from the patient loading zone, he
relaxed against the seat, looking back at the front entrance of Cobalt Medical
Center, and thinking, made it past the second checkpoint.

He noted the driver’s smudged plastic covered ID on the
dashboard. Ned Stringer. White male, looked about twenty-five. Gangly, shaggy
haircut, and dressed in faded jeans and bright plaid short-sleeve shirt.

“Ned, I’m Roscoe.” He had written the address on a scrap of
paper. He handed it over Ned’s shoulder. “Here’s where I need to go.”

Ned looked at it. “Got it, Rocky. Know where it’s at.” He
joined the cars on the main road, announcing his entry into the afternoon
traffic with a long blare of the horn.

Roscoe put the back windows down, relishing the balmy spring
air whipping through the cab. A bank sign coming up on the right flashed the
time of 4:50 PM and a temperature of 74 degrees. The familiar sights made his
weeks in the hospital fade quickly, except for the haunting thoughts he had of
Selena. Those thoughts didn’t fade.

He stuck his head out the window and yelled,
“Wa-a-a-who-o-o!”

The driver jumped and jerked the wheel. “Hey, what the hell?
You want to get us arrested for disturbing the peace? What’s the yelling
about?” His eyes watched Roscoe in the rearview.

Roscoe pulled his head back inside the window. “I’m outside,
man. I’m outside.”

The driver hunched over the steering wheel, half-mumbling,
“Is this the first time you ever been outside?” The cab sped through a red
light.

When the cab turned into the drive, Roscoe glanced at his
watch, reminding himself that he’d have to keep tabs on the time.

The driver announced the fare, but Roscoe said, “This is a
round trip. Remember? You need to wait.”

“How I know you ain’t gonna skip out the back entrance or
somethin’, and not pay?”

Roscoe thought, welcome back to the real world. He pulled
his wallet out, held up a twenty-dollar bill, and said. “Ned, this is your
tip,” he tore it in half, “but you won’t get the other half if you don’t wait.
I thought I made that clear to your dispatcher.”

“Whatever.” Ned snatched his half of the twenty. “I’ll
wait.” He sunk in the seat, tipping his ball cap over his nose.

Roscoe stumbled from the cab, his crutches thumping him
toward the side white office door.

He was greeted inside by a high-school-age female. “Welcome
to Faith United Mission Church. You must be Mr. Fallington. I’m Ariel.” She
pushed a button on her phone console. “Our pastor is expecting you.”

Roscoe nodded. “Nice to meet you too, Ariel.”

An oak door opened and out walked a thirty-ish woman with
long blonde hair, bright smile, dressed in a long sleeve white cotton blouse
and snug-fitting faded blue jeans, and sandals. She extended her hand. “I’m
Ramona Brimstone, Pastor of Faith. Come into my office and rest yourself.”

She led the way and pointed to a padded rocking chair beside
a small table. It was a definite improvement over the collapsed back seat of
the cab. He placed his crutches to the side of the chair as he sat.

The pastor pulled her rocking chair around facing him. “I
just brewed some fresh tea. How about some? Hot or cold?”

“Cold sounds good.”

She busied herself at a small sink with a dorm-size fridge
on the counter. Roscoe took in her shapely figure from the back and front, when
she walked back and placed their tea on the table. No rings on her fingers. She
took her chair.

“Tell me about yourself and what brings you to Faith. The
notation on my appointment calendar said you wanted to discuss a ‘spiritual
concern.’” Then she added, “Oh, and that you’re Roscoe Fallington. That name is
familiar somehow.”

“Probably. I recently had a bad accident, speeding, so I
guess my infamy precedes me.”

She took a sip of tea, and then nodded. “Is that why you
wanted to see me?”

“No. Someone told me you were a very good pastor and hoped
that I would meet you some day.” He looked at her graceful neck.

She smiled. “Well, who made that nice recommendation, one of
our members?”

“Yes. Her name is Selena.”

Roscoe noticed a slight hitch in her smiling expression when
she said, “Oh, yes, that very special Selena Sanchez. How do you know her?”

He had not known her last name until just now. How’d that
slip by me, he thought.

“I met her at the hospital. Our rooms are on the same
floor.” He took a drink of tea. He shifted in his seat, looking at her neck.

“You keep looking at my half-hidden tattoo on my neck.” She
pulled the collar of her shirt back so he could read the full inscription,
“Free love for the asking.” She smiled. “Want to ask me how to get some?” Her
eyes narrowed and took on a sultry look.

Holy Jesus! What kind of kinky stuff has Selena gotten me
into? Damn! I should’ve known this was some kind of quirky joke of hers.

“I see the shock on your face. Let me explain.” She
chuckled. “Roscoe, I was a prostitute for about three years. Made a lot of
money; spent it all. During one wild drug binge I got this tattoo. When I
decided to enter the ministry I started to have the tattoo removed, but decided
to leave it, since I really am in the love business now. I used to be in the
fake-love business. Lots of people ask me about the tattoo, and it gives me the
opportunity to tell them about the free love of Jesus Christ.”

He nodded, believing, but then on the other hand not
believing. What a mixed up world. “So the tattoo wasn’t…the church didn’t—”

She interrupted. “The United Mission Church, headquarters,
knows everything about my past. As a denomination they accept me just as I am.
However to enter their pastor ranks they expected me to give up my past and
study very hard while in seminary.

“I’ve given up my past life, completed my masters, and I
continue to study every day. I know this church loves me like I’ve never been
loved before…and I love this church.” A smile brightened her face. “Something
you should know about our church…we welcome you as you are, but we value you
for what you can become.”

Roscoe studied her, as he exhaled a long breath, took more
tea.

“So tell me about the ‘spiritual concern.’”

“Not quite sure how to say it, but I’ll try. In talking with
Selena, it seems to me that she has a tremendous amount of belief,” his arms
became animated, “or faith in the church, Jesus, and even you, and yet…and
yet…”

“Say it.”

“And yet, she tells me she’s dying…she’s dying.” He shook
his head. “I’m having a hard time accepting that happening to such a good kid,
with such a…a…strong devotion to her church or faith.” His face now carried a
pained expression. “Why can’t the church, and you, do something for her? I feel
like she’s all alone.” He paused a split-second, and then added. “And where’s
Jesus in all this?”

She sensed the moment, picked up his crutches, and said
quietly, “I want to show you something through this other door…just a few
steps.”

He rose on one foot, took the crutches, and followed her,
through the door opening into the church sanctuary. The lights were dim, but
illuminated the old wooden pews that would seat a tight three-hundred people.

“Let’s sit here on the front pew.” She helped him with his
crutches again, and sat beside him, sweeping her hands around. “This is where
the people of Faith gather to worship. They bring everything that has happened
to them out there in the world and place it before God, Creator of the
universe. We mingle and fellowship. We sing favorite songs. The pastor shares a
message with the people and…” She reached for her phone on her hip, and stood,
glanced at it, and said, “This will only take a few minutes, but it’s
necessary. You understand?”

He nodded.

“Good. Just sit quietly until I get back. There are some
things I want to share with you.”

“Fine.”

She hurried back to her office.

He welcomed the quietness of the sanctuary. Maybe I can get
my head on straight before she gets back. What an experience!

Back in her office she flashed the receptionist. “Ariel,
don’t let anyone else enter the sanctuary, until I let you know.” She checked
her watch, refreshed her cup of tea, sat in her rocking chair, with a bowed
head, and prayed, “Lord, why don’t you spend a few minutes alone with Roscoe.
Your Presence is much more powerful than mine.” She took another sip of tea.

Roscoe listened to the sounds of the old building. But he’d
noticed new construction on the property, when he arrived. His eyes followed
along the church railing where people could kneel on cushions. Wonder what they
think about? He gazed up at the simple pulpit where the pastor ‘shares a message’
with the people. Wonder what she preaches about? Free love? Tough love? Maybe I
need to start with the basics of simple love.

His gaze stopped on the quilted wall-hanging, covering the
entire wall behind the pulpit and choir area. An accent light from above
brought out the bright multi-colors and textures of one large cross flanked by
two subdued smaller crosses. The background of the quilt was splashed with a
blend of dark and light colors giving the perception of sky, light rays, spring
flowers…new life.

He thought about the few times he’d gone to church, and how
he hated it, but it seemed different sitting here in the stillness. The sun’s
rays, striking the church window panes, had begun their late afternoon slant.
He was aware the time was moving on, and he’d have to get back, but he wished
he could enjoy this feeling through the night.

He wasn’t aware that the pastor had returned, and was
sitting beside him, until she quietly said, “Tell me more about your concern
for Selena.”

“I guess I was hoping more, or
something
could be
done for her.”

She nodded. “Let me tell you a few things that Selena has
done for Faith. She and her mom have attended for about five years. Selena has
been very active during that time. She’s been a leader with our youth group.
She started a reading tutoring program in our church for young children in our
surrounding neighborhoods.

“The little kids love her, and any of the adults would love
to have a daughter like her. She’s been helping with our church newsletter,
until her health declined recently.” She turned to Roscoe. “She’s a writer,
very talented. Have you read any of her writing?”

He shook his head. “Not yet.”

Her eyes grew wide with excitement. “Ask her about her
writing. Very smart young woman in the right places.” Ramona pointed to her
head and her heart.

He nodded. “She’s…amazing.” He smiled just thinking of
Selena.

“Yes, she’s amazing. Imagine how her young single life has
touched so many people around the area.”

He nodded again, as he looked at the huge watercolor quilt behind
the pulpit.

“You asked about what’s being done or what more can be done
for her. The congregation has held a number of fund-raisers to help pay some of
Selena’s medical expenses. A few years back her mom lost her job, so they’ve
experienced some struggles.”

Ramona stood and slowly paced back and forth in front of
him, emphasizing with arm and hand movements. “Selena remains on the church’s
prayer list. As I begin my day as a pastor, I submit my prayer list to Jesus;
Selena is on that list. Her youth group recently had a “Sunday for Selena
Service”. They gathered for a snack meal, sang Selena’s favorite songs, and
each one read their special Bible verse, dedicating it to Selena, as they lit a
candle for her. And they closed their service with prayer for Selena.” Nothing
the pastor said was expressed defensively.

She stopped pacing in front of Roscoe, turned to him and
said, “But it just dawned on me that everything we’ve done hasn’t been enough.
We need more help.” She let that sink in.

Roscoe waited.

She sat beside him again, looking at his eyes. “May I ask
you a very personal question?”

He nodded slowly, before saying, “Yes, I think so…go ahead
and ask.” He held his breath.

“Will you pray for Selena?”

Stunned and growing frustrated, he said, “Look, I don’t
know…I don’t know much about church things…I’m here because Selena sent me…I…”
His voice drifted.

“Did you catch what I just heard? ‘I’m here because Selena
sent me.’ And here you are, sitting in her church, where she has sat many times
on this very pew.”