Carol Steward - Finding Her Home

Tori gazed up at the vertical stone formation. “Just overwhelmed by old memories.”

“You sure that’s all?”

Her smile faded to a guilt-ridden grin. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been here. I was highly tempted to head back to my grandparents’ house before anyone saw me.”

Tori’s sudden insecurity intrigued Steve. If she didn’t want to see everyone, why had she agreed to come? He wanted more than anything to believe her reason included him, but he wouldn’t take that for granted, either. “Before you change your mind, why not say hello?” Steve touched his hand to the small of her back, encouraging her to join the festivities.

wrote daily to a pen pal for ten years, yet writing as a career didn’t occur to her for another two decades. “My first key chain said ‘Bloom Where You’re Planted.’ I’ve tried to follow that advice ever since.”

Carol, her husband and their three children have planted their roots in Greeley. Together, their family enjoys sports, camping and discovering Colorado’s beauty. Carol has operated her own cake-decorating business and spent fifteen years providing full-time child care to more than one hundred children before moving on to the other end of the education field. She is now an admissions advisor at a state university.

As always, Carol loves to hear from her readers. You can contact her at P.O. Box 200269, Evans, CO80620. She would also love for you to visit her Web page at www.carolsteward.com.

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The LORD said to me, “Do not say,

‘I am only a boy’ for you shall go to all

to whom I send you, and you shall speak

whatever I command you.”

—Jeremiah 1:7

Dedicated to all teachers and educators,

but mostly to my late grandmother, Mildred Call,

my sisters, Cindy and Cynde Bohannan,

my late brother-in-law, Dan Correll, and the

Steward family of educators, Mildred, Jack, Marty,

Dave, Doug, Karen, Charles and Deb Haverfield.

Thank you for your dedication!

Dear Reader,

This generation is supposed to learn more at a younger age, and with that comes the expectation that teachers and educators wear more hats than ever before. They’re often expected to fill the shoes of social worker, friend, advocate, mediator, parent liaison, police, counselor, coach and last, but most importantly, teacher. And when administrators move from the classroom into leadership, the expectations double.

Twenty-six years ago I married into a family of educators. I first met my future father-in-law as a student anxiously sitting in the junior high principal’s office. Throughout the years he grew to appreciate the many expectations of his job. Whether it was to discipline an ornery student, intervene with disagreements between student and teacher, or rush to the school in the middle of the night because fire alarms had gone off, the job never ends.

Now my husband is a principal, and the inspiration for Finding Her Home. I’m continually reminded God is present in all schools, with administrators, teachers, staff or students, giving His children courage and patience to face what each day brings. And with quiet faith can come countless opportunities to make an impact on those in need.

Please pray for all of our schools and our educators, that all will be willing to speak up when God commands.

I love to hear from my readers. Please feel free to contact me at P.O. Box 200269, Evans, CO 80620 or at csteward37@comcast.net. Don’t forget to visit my Web site at www.carolsteward.com.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

“It’s four-thirty in the morning. Who would be calling at this time of day?” Tori Sandoval picked up the phone, startled to hear her grandfather’s voice. “¿Abuelo? Calm down. What’s wrong?”

“Victoria, Abuela collapsed. The doctor at the clinic is having her flown to Pikes Peak Hospital. Can you meet her there?”

“Of course. What happened? How is she?” Tori choked back tears, allowing his announcement to sink in.

Tori heard Grandfather sob. “She fell…” he said, pausing to blow his nose. He rambled on, telling every detail. “I had to call the paramedics. I couldn’t do anything for her.”

“That’s their job. You shouldn’t be lifting her. Are you okay?”

“Fine. I’ll drive up after sunrise.”

Tori sat up in bed, the thought of her eighty-two-year-old grandfather making the 150-mile drive alone completed the wake-up process instantly. “No! I’ll come get you.”

“Abuela needs you. I’ll take it slow and do just fine. The nurse says my Maria will be in the hospital a while. You get to the hospital now, angel. Don’t worry about me.”

“¡Abuelo!”

Silence.

Thirty minutes later Tori Sandoval pressed the brakes of her four-wheel drive as she entered the already-busy hospital parking lot.

She parked the vehicle then punched in the number on her cell phone. “Sheriff Martinez, this is Victoria Sandoval….”

“Victoria, I’m sorry about your grandmother. I’m trying to find someone to bring Jose to Colorado Springs. He shouldn’t be driving in town, let alone on the highway.”

Relief washed over her. “Yes, I know. That’s what I’m calling about. I could come get him if you could stop him….”

“Don’t worry about coming here. I’ll make sure Jose gets a ride.” They spoke a few minutes longer and she gave Sheriff Martinez her cell phone number in case he needed to reach her.

“You holler if you need anything. We’ll keep a close watch on the house.”

“Thanks, Sheriff.” Tori disconnected the call and stuffed the phone into her briefcase. “Abuela and Abuelo need to realize it’s time for them to move here so I can help out more,” she said aloud to herself. “I can’t move to Segundo now, I’m so close to finishing my thesis, and school’s just starting….”

Tori rushed across the parking lot and through the automatic doors to the emergency room. She stepped up to the counter. “Excuse me, my grandmother was being transported here from Segundo Emergency Clinic. Is Maria Sandoval here yet?”

“Let me go check.”

The nurse returned a few minutes later, shaking her head. “Her flight was delayed. If you’ll have a seat in the waiting room, we’ll call you when she arrives.”

“Any idea how she is?”

The middle-aged woman smiled. “She’s stable. We’ll send her directly to the neurology center.”