Shelter of Hope Page 11

  “Let me know if you or your grandmother needs anything. If you’re hungry or thirsty come to the desk, okay?”

  Rosa smiled, grateful for the woman’s kindness. “I will.”

  The nurse left them then.

  Consuela shifted on her side toward Rosa. “I can hear you thinking. Hear you worrying all the way over here.”

  Rosa got up and went to hold her grandmother’s arthritic hand. “Sorry. It’s just… I should have made you go to the doctor.”

  “This is not your fault. This is just old age. Now go back to that chair, cover up and get some sleep. Worry never changes anything, querida.”

  Worry never changes anything. Rosa obeyed her grandmother at least on the surface. Soon she was reclining under a cotton blanket and trying to appear to sleep for her grandmother’s sake. She closed her eyes. Abuela had it right. Life came with no guarantees. Anything could happen but why in Rosa’s case was it always something bad?

  The next morning, Marc entered the surgical waiting room, hoping to be of some support to Rosa. The TV was playing CNN quietly. He scanned the crowded room for his grandmother and Rosa. Naomi waved and Rosa looked up. He moved to her side, reaching for her hand. “How are you?”

  She took his hand. “I’m fine,” Rosa replied with the polite answer. She appeared to study his face. “Did Johnny get off to school okay?”

  Marc slipped into the open seat beside Rosa, reluctantly releasing her soft hand. “Yes, I dropped him off on time and then I had a class. But I don’t have anything for a couple of hours. Any word about your grandmother?”

  “She is doing well.” Rosa wrapped her hands around each other and lowered her chin. Her hair fell forward, veiling her face.

  Marc yearned to smooth her hair back, keep their connection.

  “She should be out soon,” Naomi added. She rose. “Now that Marc is here I’m going to take a short walk. I need to keep moving or my joints freeze up on me. Whoever said getting old isn’t for sissies knew what he was talking about.” Naomi grinned and walked out of the waiting area.

  Rosa looked into his eyes. “I’m so grateful for all your help—”

  He interrupted her. “You’d do the same for us.” Then he couldn’t say more. She was so beautiful even in this setting, so vulnerable.

  “I’ve called my church and they’ve added me to the meals for the sick program to start when my grandmother comes home. Some of the waitresses I work with are covering my hours at the truck stop. And if I need someone to watch Johnny, I have names to call so you don’t need to keep—”

  He raised a hand, interrupting her. “Johnny is fine with me.” He made his tone emphatic. “I think it’s best if he stays with me till you are able to handle him and your grandmother. Amigo is making this easier on him.” He coaxed her with his gaze.

  Rosa nodded, worrying her lower lip.

  A stranger who looked like a staff member walked into the room. “Rosa Santos?” she read from a clipboard.

  Rosa raised her hand and stood up. The woman approached them and sat down in the seat beside Rosa that Naomi had vacated. “Hello, I’m your grandmother’s occupational therapist. I need to discuss arrangements for her after she is released in a few days.”

  “A few days?” Rosa repeated, sounding worried as she sat again.

  Marc tensed. So soon?

  “Yes,” the woman explained as if she’d heard this objection all too often, “we usually only keep our hip replacement patients long enough to help them recover after the surgery and to teach them the skills they’ll need at home.”

  “What skills?” Rosa looked worried now.

  “Your grandmother will be using a walker for a few months and then a cane. You need to check to see if your doorways are wide enough to accommodate her walker. If not, she may have to go to a nursing home till she is well enough to use a cane.”

  Rosa looked even more worried.

  Marc touched her arm, his mind racing to find a way to help.

  “Is that going to be a problem?” the occupational therapist asked.

  Rosa’s shoulders sagged. “Yes.”

  Marc put an arm around her shoulders. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out.” Rosa gave him a feeble smile. And he gave her shoulders a reassuring squeeze. Whatever it takes, Rosa.

  Five days later, Naomi drove up to her back door. Marc was waiting there. Rosa got out and opened the car door to the backseat.

  “Abuela, here we are.” Rosa was happy yet uncertain, happy that her grandmother was doing well enough to leave the hospital, but uncertain about this arrangement. It seemed as if she were accepting too much from the Chambers family. Wrestling with this debt, Rosa unfolded the walker, clicked the latches and placed it in front of her grandmother.

  “Now don’t feel as if you’re imposing,” Naomi said, joining Rosa. “I wouldn’t have invited Consuela if I didn’t want her.”

  Consuela gripped the walker with both hands and rose to her feet. “We are grateful, Naomi. I do not like hospitals. Or nursing homes.”

  Naomi chuckled. “Who does?”

  Rosa hovered near in case her grandmother needed her.

  Consuela moved the walker and haltingly covered the few yards to the back door. There had been a frost this morning and in the shade the grass still crunched with each footstep. After the hot August, the swiftly cold September had shocked everyone.

  Marc hurried forward to open the door. Consuela entered the back porch and then moved into the kitchen. While Naomi went back to drive her car into the garage, Rosa walked past Marc. She wobbled and brushed against him.

  He took her arm. “Are you all right?”

  All the fatigue and worry rolled into a hot tight ball in her middle. The temptation to lean against him and let him hold her—till she could face all this—tried to overwhelm her. She moved forward away from him.

  “A year ago my brother and I enlarged this doorway and the one to the kitchen,” Marc said. “And the door to my gram’s bathroom and put in one of those new tubs that have the side that swings out. And we put hand grips on the bathroom wall, too. We’re handicapped accessible.”

  “I wish my apartment had been,” Rosa muttered.

  “Well, your new house will be,” Marc said. “Even before this happened, when I realized your grandmother would be living with you, I made sure that your doors are wider than usual and your bathroom will have a shower separate from the tub. And the shower will have built-in hand grips.”

  Rosa found she couldn’t say anything. She hadn’t thought of any of these things, but this kind man had.

  “You are a good man,” Consuela said. “You did this for your abuela, too?”

  Marc looked embarrassed by the praise. “My brother and I were just doing some maintenance and updating.” He shrugged. “You should thank my mom. She’s the one who suggested these changes. She said it would be wise to make it possible for my grandmother to stay in her own home, no matter what came down the road.”

  Rosa loved how he side-stepped praise.

  Naomi hurried inside. “Consuela, I’ve put one of my padded dining room chairs with arms here in the living room for you like the occupational therapist suggested. I only have one bedroom so we have a bed set up in here for you.”

  Consuela lowered herself into the chair provided and began to weep. “You are such good people. Dios te bendiga. God bless you.”

  Rosa patted Consuela’s shoulder, holding back tears. How could she ever repay this kindness? Only God could.

  On Saturday morning, Marc drove to the Habitat site, eager to make progress on Rosa’s house. Unfortunately, fewer and fewer volunteers had been able to come in the past two weeks. The chill of this early fall had deepened and a few high maple leaves had changed red and yellow overnight. He parked on New Friends Street and was disappointed to see so few cars in front of Rosa’s house.

  Frustration ate at him. I wanted Rosa moved in before Halloween. Approaching the back door, he heard voices inside and let
himself into what would be the kitchen.

  Eleanor Washburn was there already with only a few workers, mostly retired people. Rosa was kneeling by a large coffeepot which she was plugging in. “Coffee will be ready soon,” she said in an obvious attempt at cheerfulness.

  Marc propped himself against one of the studs in the open walls. “I was hoping we’d have some more people come. I wanted to see if we could get most of the wallboard up today.”

  Eleanor pulled out her cell phone. “I’ll call a few people and see—”

  The kitchen door opened. Bud, Tracy, Luke, Jill and her dad, all in work clothing, walked in one by one.

  Marc’s eyebrows rose, his mouth opened.

  “Did we surprise you?” Jill asked. “We thought the five of us could move things along.”

  Grinning, Marc slapped Luke on the back.

  Rosa stood up. She burst into tears. “Everyone has been so good.”

  Marc was relieved when Tracy and Jill went over to comfort Rosa. His dad came up to him. “I hear you’re the ramrod on this job. So what are we doing today, boss?”

  “Wallboard.” Marc couldn’t stop grinning. He knew how fast and how hard his brother and dad could work.

  “Ah, I love putting up walls,” Luke said. Everyone laughed. “And for sure we’ll all get our workouts today.”

  Marc moved into action, organizing and explaining. But his true attention focused on the sweet smile curving Rosa’s lips. He recalled them brushing his. Rosa, what can I do to keep away from you? Especially when I don’t want to.

  Only a glimmer of sunset lingered on the horizon. October was half over before Rosa had time to take a break, really just stop and think. While running back and forth between work, school, her apartment and Naomi’s house where Consuela still stayed, she had managed to keep up with school and work—just barely.

  Tonight was a special day in the Chambers’s family. Marc’s father, Bud, and Luke had both been born on October 18. She’d been invited to the joint birthday celebration, which was a bonfire and wiener roast.

  Looking for some fun, she had come; however, the letter in her pocket wouldn’t let her relax. Tense and trying to hide this, she stood in Naomi’s backyard near what had been a vegetable garden. A few killing frosts had reduced the garden to broken and withered stems.

  With Johnny hovering near, Luke and Marc were sharpening long, thin willow branches that they had cut from the bank of a nearby creek. Johnny with Amigo at his side watched the two men.

  In the fading light, she couldn’t take her eyes from Marc. In the last of the sun, his silhouette appeared solid, reassuringly substantial. He was down on one knee. An old illustration from a book cover came to mind—a Medieval knight on one knee pledging his honor.

  “Can I do that?” Johnny asking, bringing her back to the present.

  “Sure,” Marc replied, pulling Johnny to stand in front of him. Just as he had the day he’d taught him how to hammer in a nail, Marc stooped and placed Johnny’s hands within his. This simple act of kindness drew Rosa toward Marc. He was kindhearted and steadfast. He was not Trent. At this thought, her heart contracted, hurting her.

  “This one’s end has been sharpened enough. Help me strip the bark.” He let Johnny help him as he ran the pocket knife away from them, down the willow sapling, stripping the bark.

  “Why do we have to take the bark off?” Johnny asked.

  “So it doesn’t burn while we’re using these to roast wieners,” Marc replied.

  Rosa listened to this very ordinary exchange—a man teaching a boy. How could Trent have had the gall to pay a lawyer to write this letter to her? She burned with fresh resentment.

  “And marshmallows,” Luke added. “After wieners, we can roast marshmallows and make s’mores.”

  “S’mores?” Johnny asked.

  “Yeah,” Luke replied, “we roast the marshmallows then we put them between graham crackers and a chocolate bar. It all melts together. Delicious.”

  Johnny whooped, then settled into the task of helping Marc strip the bark.

  Rosa remained back from the three. These tender moments consoled her. Anyone could see Johnny soaked in this time with Marc and Luke. He’s happy, she thought, her mother’s heart glad yet sad. It hurt though—like standing at the entrance of Disney World and not having the price of a ticket. This thought of Florida where Trent lived did nothing to ease her tension.

  She moved closer to Marc, seeking his strength. I won’t think of that. Not tonight. Tonight I will have fun and enjoy watching my son be happy. I will not let this event be spoiled.

  Bud and Tracy came through the nearby lane that linked the two farms. “Rosa!” Tracy called out. “So happy you could come!”

  Rosa waved, remembering how these two had helped her out. “My pleasure. Happy birthday, Bud!”

  A car pulled into the drive and another. More guests began pouring out of the cars. At Naomi’s nearby burn pit, Bud and Luke started arranging firewood from a stack behind the garage for the bonfire.

  Rosa hovered, ready to help, staying near Marc without doing it in a noticeable way.

  The cornfields around Naomi’s yard had been harvested. The early autumn had been dry and the farmers had been relieved to start the harvest in good time. Soon Bud lit the kindling and flames lapped up the midnight-blue horizon. The three dogs in their dog run barked occasionally, the sound loud in the country peace.

  Rosa saw her grandmother shuffling with her walker toward them. Naomi walked beside her, dragging Consuela’s chair. This chair had arms for the support Consuela needed whenever she must get up again. Rosa hurried forward to take the chair as did Marc.

  But another guest reached Naomi first and carried the chair near the ring of rocks around the burn pit. When he came close to the fire, Rosa recognized him. It was Jill’s father. He greeted her with a smile. “Rosa, how are you tonight?”

  “Fine.” She faced Tom but Marc’s nearness made her aware of everything keenly—the crackling fire, the happy voices, Marc’s shoulder just inches from hers.

  Then Jill arrived at the chair with Naomi and Consuela. “Your grandmother is doing so well,” Jill crowed. “I can’t believe she can walk this well only a month after having her hip replaced.”

  “Dios es bueno. God is good,” Consuela said, sitting down in her chair. “And so is this family. I am very grateful for all the help…”

  Consuela’s words brought moisture to Rosa’s eyes. Such good people.

  “Oh, you’d do the same for us,” Naomi interrupted. “I need help carrying out the hot dogs and chips and cake and well, the whole shebang really.”

  “I’ll help,” Rosa said in unison with Jill. Rosa was glad to have something to distract her unruly mind. The two of them hurried inside and carried out the food to the picnic table which already had been set with jack-o’-lantern-decorated paper plates, matching napkins and cups and white plastic flatware. The night air had sharpened, moving them toward the fire. The bonfire in the burn pit crackled and sent up cheery sparks against the dark sky.

  Then Jill moved to Luke and took his arm in both her hands. He leaned over and kissed her cheek. Jill responded in kind.

  Rosa glimpsed the looks on both their faces, highlighted by the fire. Both Jill and Luke shone with the look of love.

  Two reactions clashed inside Rosa—gladness and a pinch of envy. She hoped only good things for these two good people. But I want to be loved like that, too. Is that wrong, Father?

  Johnny ran up to her. “Did you see me? I did one of the willow sticks we’re going to cook with. Did you see me?”

  “Yes, I did.” She ruffled her son’s very short bangs. Marc had taken him for his first professional haircut. Johnny looked as clean-cut as Marc did now.

  As if he heard this thought, Marc appeared. “How are you tonight?”

  “Fine,” she said, though the letter bothered her like nagging back pain. She looked to his face by the firelight, hoping his presence could banish her hard
anger.

  Suddenly Tracy let out a shout. Every head turned toward her. “I can’t believe it!” she exclaimed.

  Rosa halted. Only one thing could make Tracy sound this thrilled. Somehow Rosa knew what was coming. She wanted to be happy for Jill and Luke. But she could feel herself freezing into place as if her veins had all been infused with ice water.

  Chapter Eight

  While Marc held Johnny to him, he looked toward Rosa. He saw only her profile in the dark beyond the light. Somehow the way she was standing warned him away. What was going on within her? He looked back at his mom. Tracy lifted Jill’s left hand and the firelight caught the diamond. It sparkled, mesmerizing. For a moment, everyone gawked. Then Tracy pulled Jill into her arms for a boisterous rocking hug.

  Marc stayed where he was as did Rosa. However, they were the only two that did so. The other guests gathered around Luke and Jill. More hugging, some backslapping, cascades of laughter, squeals of joy. In the flickering firelight, Luke stood beside his bride-to-be, tall and proud.

  Two conflicting reactions vied within Marc like knives cutting across each other. I’m happy for you, Luke, but I’m so alone. I want a wife. I want a life, a family as much as you do. The wrenching confession revealed a yawning void within him. He stared down into his deep, aching loneliness.

  “But it’s so sudden!” Tracy called out, evidently able finally to speak again.

  “Not really,” Luke said. “I knew right away, the first time I talked to her.”

  Jill moved to stand closer to Luke, pressing against his arm. “It was love at first talk.” Everyone laughed.

  Marc forced a grin, unhappy with his mixed reaction. This is about Luke, not about me and my sorry self. Suck it up, Chambers. He glanced down at Johnny and was surprised to see the boy’s troubled expression. And in the shadows away from the fire, Rosa looked frozen in place. So I’m not the only one who’s shaken up by this. But Johnny? Why?

  “When is the wedding to be?” Naomi asked, holding Consuela’s hand. Consuela had remained seated and both grandmothers were beaming.

  “New Year’s Eve afternoon,” Jill said.