Shelter of Hope

by Lyn Cote

  “No, thanks, I’ve got to get home. My grandmother is taking care of Johnny and I’ve got stuff to do before I go to work later,” Rosa said and started walking toward her car.

  “Thanks for bringing my ID to me!” Marc called after her.

  He watched as she drove away, listening to the various rattles and groans her car made. It sounded like it needed work.

  Naomi punched his arm. “So how did registration go?”

  “Fine.” He rubbed his arm, still sore from hitting the concrete on New Friends Street. Rosa’s face came to mind and he remembered how concerned she’d looked earlier over the trapped bird.

  “Marc,” his grandmother said, sounding as if she were repeating his name.

  “What? Do I need to carry anything in?” he asked, guessing.

  “Yes, I bought some bags of dog food.” She was studying his face.

  Avoiding her astute eyes, he went along with her and opened the back hatch. No matchmaking, please.

  “I’ll go get the wheelbarrow—”

  “No, I can carry fifty pounds.” For months, however, he hadn’t been able to lift anything because of broken bones from the accident. He was careful now to bend his knees and lift as the physical therapist had taught him. It felt good to be able to lift these bags again. He carried first one and then the other into the garage.

  His grandmother hovered around him, chewing her lower lip and looking worried.

  “I’m fine, Grandma. Fine.”

  “That Rosa is a very pretty girl—”

  Before she could continue, his phone rang upstairs. Saved by the bell. He apologized to his grandmother and then ran up the stairs to his apartment. He answered the call on the sixth ring. “Hi.”

  “Marc,” his brother Luke said, “Mom and Dad will be attending a Farm Bureau meeting next Thursday night. Meet me at the A & W at six for supper, okay?”

  “Sure.” Before Marc could say more, Luke hung up. Marc stared at his phone. What did Luke need to discuss with him away from the family?

  Marc had slept for nearly four hours last night and he felt awake for the first time in days. Under the high morning sun over the Habitat site, he and a few other men, mostly retired, were setting the floor joists from the sill around the foundation to the center beam that would support the middle of the future floor of the house.

  He’d not been eager to come for today’s work at the Habitat site of Rosa’s house. This place made him uneasy because this was where the near-accident had triggered the same nightmares and sleeplessness that had followed January’s accident. But today—so far nothing. And perhaps a day spent working hard in the sunshine would make him fall asleep tonight, dreamless, and stay that way till morning.

  He tried to concentrate on this simple job, but his eyes kept straying to Rosa and her son. Even wearing a red-and-white baseball cap, bright yellow work gloves and faded jeans, Rosa looked appealing and feminine.

  She and his grandmother, Naomi, were carrying studs to be used for framing the walls. And Johnny was hanging around his grandmother who was sitting on a lawn chair in the shade of an old oak on the edge of the lot. A few stumps which would need to be cleared still edged the property. Fortunately whoever had excavated the basement had preserved some of the trees so the two of them were in the shade. Unfortunately Johnny looked depressed, unhappy.

  Marc set the last of the floor joists into place, the web of support needed for the subfloor. Johnny was pushing a toy truck through what remained of the dirt pile left from the excavation that still needed to be trucked away. There was a pause while the men discussed how to lay the subfloor. Marc didn’t join in.

  He couldn’t take his eyes from the poor kid. He still looked shamed and unhappy. Maybe he was remembering what had happened here a few days ago, the fear and the shame. Johnny’s gloom worked its way inside Marc. Young spirits could be easily injured and that was never good. But what could he do about it? And should he?

  After the day of the dedication with its near accident, he didn’t want to call any more attention to himself. He turned back and concentrated on the discussion the men were having about how best to proceed. Marc knew how to proceed. But again, he didn’t want to be disrespectful of the older men. He would wait until either they asked him for advice or were going to start in error.

  Then Marc’s grandmother walked past him. He glimpsed the small hammer tucked into her belt loop and it gave him an idea. He resisted it. Just let it go. He’ll be fine.

  But Marc found that he couldn’t stop himself. He couldn’t stand by and not try to help the kid. Before coming today the boy obviously had been lectured not to do anything dangerous like he had the first day. The kid looked crushed and nobody should look that miserable.

  Marc left the men and caught up with Naomi. “Grandma, let me borrow your hammer. It’s just the right size.”

  Naomi glanced at him and then nodded.

  He took the small hammer and went over to the building supplies area. He took a handful of short nails with broad heads and walked over to the boy. “Johnny, come here. I want to show you something.” Marc waved toward the stump nearest to where the boy’s grandmother was still knitting in the shade of the oak.

  Marc knelt down on one knee and began sticking a few of the nails into the wide circle of the top of the stump. “Johnny, come here. You’re old enough to learn how to pound a nail in place.” This was how his own grandfather started to teach him basic carpentry. And this would give the kid something to do. Maybe it would even help him feel better.

  Johnny walked slowly over. “What are you doing, mister?”

  “Watch me.” Marc used the small hammer to pound one of the nails into the stump. Then he handed the hammer to the boy. “Give it a try.”

  The boy looked at the hammer and then glanced back at his grandmother.

  “Go ahead, Johnny,” his grandmother coaxed in her melodic Spanish accent. “The man is right. A boy must learn to pound a nail. It is something men do. Your grandfather was a fine carpenter.”

  Johnny turned to face the stump. He hit one of the nails. It fell over. Crestfallen, Johnny looked at Marc in defeat.

  “Hey, that’s what happens to all of us the first time and many more. Here, I’ll show you. You have to hold the hammer tight—like this. Okay?” Marc wrapped his hand over the boy’s small one around the hammer’s handle. He couldn’t ever recall holding a child’s hand. It gave Marc a funny feeling.

  The feeling made him soften his voice another notch. “Now to pound in a nail—first you hit it square just to ‘set’ it.” Marc demonstrated by gripping the small hand and hammer and hitting the nail just enough to get it started going in straight. “Then you give it another whack.” Marc brought the hammer down with force, driving the nail halfway into the soft stump.

  “Then we finish with one more stroke.” Marc repeated the motion and the nail disappeared into the stump except for the nail head. “See? Three strokes does it.”

  Johnny looked sideways into Marc’s eyes. “But I’m not as strong as you.”

  “This is how you become strong. Here, feel my arm.” Marc moved his upper arm toward the boy.

  Johnny squeezed it. “You are strong.”

  Again, the feel of the small hand somehow touched Marc’s heart. “You will be, too, if you work at pounding nails. Now remember the first stroke, you set the nail. Just get it in enough so it won’t wiggle. Then hit it straight on till you get it all the way in. Okay?”

  Johnny had caught his lower lip with his front teeth. “Okay.”

  “Now you try it.” Marc removed his hand, sat back on his heels and watched.

  Johnny hit the nail and it went in just a bit, but straight.

  “Good. Now the next stroke. Harder.”

  Johnny hit it again. It went in another fraction.

  “Again—” Marc was interrupted.

  “Hey, Chambers, we’re ready to start laying the subfloor!”

  Marc rose. “Just keep pounding them in.
It takes a lot of practice. And here’s how you pull the nails out.” Marc demonstrated using the claw part of the hammer. “Pound them in and then pull them out and do it again. Keep practicing.” Then he hurried away to join the men who were moving wood to lay the first layer of floor.

  He passed Rosa. She was staring at him. And tears were in her eyes. That confused him. Why was she crying now?

  Wondering why his brother had asked to meet him at A & W drive-in, Marc pulled into the parking lot. At the edge of town, A & W was the only fast-food place in Hope. For just a moment, he folded his arms on the steering wheel and rested his head there. He’d managed three hours of sleep last night—in between nightmares where he watched his eighteen-wheeler chew through cars, hearing the metal and screaming…

  Wrenching himself back to the present, he got out, rubbing his face, trying to smooth out traces of fatigue. He went in to the line of booths on one side of the small eat-in area. His younger brother, Luke, was waiting for him in one.

  Tempted by the fragrance of onion rings, Marc slid in the booth across from Luke. Before he could ask what this meeting was about, the high school-aged waitress, daughter of the owner, came to the table. Shyly, she greeted them by name and they gave her their order. Within minutes, his tall frosty mug of root beer arrived.

  He took a long, cold, sweet swallow and then put down the heavy mug. “Okay, what’s up?”

  Luke stared at his mug on the orange plastic table. “You’ve got to promise not to laugh.”

  This struck Marc as very peculiar. And since he’d been asked not to laugh, he had to quell a grin. “Okay, I won’t laugh.”

  Luke looked up like a turtle taking a peek out of his shell and then pulled back inside, looking down again. “I think I’ve finally found someone.”

  Marc did not act as if he didn’t understand. Luke was unusually shy around girls—even when they had flocked around him when he played high school basketball. “That’s good. Where did you meet her?”

  “Online.” Luke stared at the tabletop.

  Stunned, Marc clutched the handle on his cold mug. “Wow.”

  “It’s not what you think.”

  “I frankly don’t have a thought about this,” Marc said, “except how did you have the guts? I mean, did you sign up for one of those dating services?”

  Luke nodded and didn’t pull back into his shell. “I saw them advertised on TV. It’s called GetLinked.com. You go online and set up a profile. Then they match you with people…you know, people who like the same things as you do.”

  “Where does she live?” Marc asked, intrigued out of his tiredness. “I mean, is this going to be a long-distance relationship?”

  “No, it’s so cool.” Luke grinned with boyish eagerness. “I had a match in the Rhinelander.” Luke grinned wider. “I like her already. She’s really fun.”

  She’s really fun. In his mind Marc heard Rosa’s applause when the bird flew free. He forced his mind back to Luke. “Have you met her?”

  Luke didn’t answer right away. He started playing with his paper napkin, moving it around the tabletop. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. She wants to meet me but you know there are online predators, dangerous people.”

  Luke made eye contact. “Her…father will meet us there to see if he’ll let her stay for the date.”

  “So what do you want from me?” Marc asked with rampant suspicion.

  Luke looked suddenly uncertain again. “Well, with her dad coming to meet me she asked would my dad come, too. So the families would both get to see each other.”

  “Oh.” Marc saw at once that Luke didn’t want their parents in on this at all, not at this delicate point. Their mom would be all over it. She’d been hinting about grandkids for a few years now. It would be too much pressure for any girl and Luke needed space.

  “So…I mean you’re family…. So I want you to go on a double date with me and Jill.” His brother stuttered over the lady’s one syllable name and flushed bright red.

  Double date? That implied Marc had to come up with a date. He hadn’t dated for almost a year now. And he didn’t want to—not now. Not till he felt like himself again. Not till he could think of Caroline without feeling guilty. But one look at Luke’s pleading eyes and Marc was sunk. He nodded his agreement.

  On Sunday afternoon, Rosa reluctantly drove the last mile to the farmhouse that belonged to Naomi, who had invited Consuela to her kitchen so they could can salsa together this afternoon. Rosa did not want to come along, but Consuela didn’t drive. And how could she tell her grandmother that she didn’t want to get closer to the Chambers family, especially Marc Chambers?

  The fact that she was attracted to Marc meant that she should be putting distance between them, not driving right up to his door. The other day at the Habitat site, he had nearly melted her heart. She would never forget his helping her son learn to hammer in a nail. He was a good man and in some way a troubled man. How did she put those together? What didn’t she know about him?

  Consuela sat beside her, clutching a bag of small green jalapenos, which she grew in a large clay pot outside their apartment door. “I really like Naomi,” Consuela said. “I can tell she has a good heart.”

  “I like Marc,” Johnny piped up from the backseat.

  I like Marc, too, Rosa’s mind echoed. And I don’t want to.

  Consuela looked over her shoulder. “Mi hijo, Marc has a good heart, too, but you will play in the backyard. Senora Naomi says she has two dogs that you can play catch with. We will be busy canning the salsa.”

  “Yes,” Rosa said, without betraying any of the turmoil she was feeling about coming to this place. I’ll just sit and read while Johnny plays. “Johnny, I expect you to mind your manners. You are not to call Naomi by her first name. You call her Mrs. Chambers.”

  “Si, Mama.” Johnny sounded bored by her instructions.

  Rosa decided to let it go. Johnny had also begun school this week and had already brought home two papers with complimentary comments. He deserved an afternoon of playing with dogs. She drove up, crunching over the long gravel drive and parked in front of the detached white garage. Maybe Marc wouldn’t be home. What if he is? How can you stop Johnny from liking a man who is good to him? Rosa had absolutely no answer for herself. She was in the same difficult situation.

  No doubt alerted by her dogs barking, Naomi walked out her back door and waved to them. “Come on in!”

  Sitting by one of the windows in his upstairs apartment, Marc heard his grandmother calling and looked outside. Rosa, Johnny and Consuela were climbing out of her battered blue sedan. The bright sunlight glinted on Rosa’s silver-and-turquoise necklace and bracelet. In a red cotton shirt and worn jeans, she managed to look prettier than the law should allow a woman to look.

  Below, his grandmother silenced the retrievers with a “Hush!” He made himself look back at his textbook—not out the window. I will read and make sense of this.

  The voices still floated up to him, tantalizing. He didn’t want to be sitting in here on a sunny day.

  “Marc!” his grandmother called up. “Marc, can you come down here?”

  Marc told himself that he should just go down for a moment to be polite and then come right back up here and study. With his book in hand, he headed down the flight of steps to the backyard. His tired heart thudded with the exertion and with the crosscurrents of wanting to come down and wanting not to. Luke’s request that he find a date made his temples throb.

  “Thanks, Marc,” Naomi said with a brilliant smile. “Can you two watch Johnny so Consuela and I don’t spoil the salsa because of interruptions?” Without waiting for a reply, both older women turned and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Marc stood facing Rosa, still holding his textbook. He tried to think of words to say that would politely get him back upstairs studying. But all he could think was that her brown eyes were sober and somehow more striking because of their serious expression.

  Rosa Santos was a very,
very pretty lady. And the fact that she was raising Johnny alone tugged at his concern. Then the memory that he needed a date bumped and bounced in his mind, trying to get him to ask Rosa. No, Rosa doesn’t need me in her life. And I’m not over this second round of sleeplessness and nightmares.

  The doctor had called it post-traumatic shock. But it went away. I got over it. His subconscious taunted, Really?

  “Hey, Marc,” Johnny said, bouncing on his toes. “The dogs are barking. Can I let them out to play with me?”

  “Sure. Sure.” Marc pulled himself out his preoccupation. He sensed Rosa keeping her distance from him. Had she noticed his fatigue, his being distracted? Or was she as gun-shy as he was about getting close to someone of the opposite sex? “Come on.”

  “What are their names?” Johnny asked, running to keep up with Marc.

  “Roxie and Dottie. Dottie’s just a pup,” Marc answered. Rosa’s nearness prompted him to think about Luke’s request again. Every time he thought of asking someone for a date, this woman came to mind. No, I can’t and for so many reasons. “The dogs will love it if you throw the Frisbee so they can catch it,” he said to Johnny.

  Marc unlatched the gate to the dog run. The two golden retrievers bounded out, barking joyously and leaping up to lick Marc’s nose and Johnny’s face.

  Raising his arms, Johnny covered his face as the dogs leaped higher than his head. “Help!”

  “Down! Sit!” Marc ordered. Roxie who was nearly ten obeyed immediately but Dottie, the pup, had to be told several times. Finally, she sat.

  In the sudden silence, Marc heard the tail of Rosa’s gasp of alarm.

  “They can…jump high,” Johnny said, sounding out of breath and slowly lowering the elbows he’d raised to protect himself.

  “Yes, they can—” Marc kept his tone even to bolster Johnny’s confidence around the dogs and reassure Rosa “—but they are very gentle dogs and love to play.”

  Johnny eyed the dogs. “Okay. Where’s the Frisbee?”

  At the word Frisbee, Dottie leaped up and ran back into the dog run and returned with a chewed-up white Frisbee. She dropped it at the boy’s feet and panted with anticipation.