Shelter of Hope

by Lyn Cote

  Sudden and unexpected, Rosa’s throat thickened with emotion. Luke’s obvious pride in presenting Jill to his family and friends affected her with a force she’d never have predicted. It left her feeling discarded, abandoned, unvalued.

  “Su tiempo vendrá.” The soft words took Rosa by surprise. She turned to find her grandmother standing on her other side. Her grandmother had just told her, “Your time will come.”

  “Si, Abuela,” Rosa whispered back—without any real conviction that her time for this kind of joy would come. She had made a wrong choice and it had left her life and Johnny’s forever changed. Rosa forced a smile. Marc remained near her and that gesture of understanding made her lonely reality harder to take. But she wouldn’t let selfishness spoil Naomi, Luke and Jill’s special occasion.

  Jill waved to Rosa who waved back and also winked. Jill giggled at this. Rosa was happy, sincerely happy for Jill, a sweet girl who’d found a good man who loved her. And Rosa was glad for her, wistfully glad. Be happy, Jill. Be very happy.

  At only 9:37 a.m., Rosa wanted to spit nails hard and fast. She bent forward and tapped her forehead onto the steering wheel center. Why couldn’t anything ever be simple? This trip today was packed with such importance to her grandmother. And me.

  “The car? It won’t go?” her grandmother asked from beside her.

  Rosa let her forehead rest against the wheel. “The car. It won’t go, yes.”

  Silence. A charged one. Then Rosa heard her grandmother weeping quietly. The sound magnified within her head. Abuela never cried.

  Rosa raised her head. “Don’t worry. I will call for help.”

  “But everyone is working.” Consuela dabbed at her eyes. “Or too busy.”

  Rosa didn’t even stop to think further. She pulled the phone book from under her seat, where she kept it for emergencies like this, looked up a name and punched it into her cell phone.

  When Marc answered her call, she said quick and urgent, “Marc, I need your help. My car has died on County K and I’m driving my grandmother to see my grandfather at the VA, the veteran’s administration hospital. Will you please come and help us?”

  “Where on K?”

  “Near Pine Lake School.”

  “I’ll leave now.”

  “Thank you.” She tried to put all the gratitude she felt into her voice. She closed her phone, got out and paced beside her car, watching. Her nerves revved like a motor on high idle.

  Within ten minutes, Marc turned onto County K. He parked in front of the car. “What’s wrong?”

  Tears sprang to her eyes and she turned away.

  He stood there, waiting. “Do you need a jump?”

  “I need a better car.” Facing him, she tried to smile and shrug it off. “Today is my grandfather’s birthday. He has Alzheimer’s. I’m taking my grandmother to see him at the VA hospital in Madison. That’s why I called. We have to get there and be back in time to meet Johnny’s school bus.” She drew in air to keep from crying.

  “Let me take a look. It might be something simple that I can fix. I always carry my tools in my truck.”

  She popped the hood and he leaned over it. Within a few minutes, he shook his head. “It’s beyond my mechanic abilities.” He turned to her. “Do you have roadside service with any company?”

  “No.” Rosa folded her arms and looked down, defeated.

  He slammed the hood shut, pulled out his cell phone and hit the button for his roadside service. “Where do you want it towed?”

  Rosa told him the name of the garage near her apartment. Then they waited by her car. Rosa rubbed her arms, chafing over the delay, over her grandmother’s crushing disappointment and her own. I want to see my abuelo. Then the wrecker appeared in record time. The man offered to take Rosa and her grandmother home.

  “No, they need to go to the VA,” Marc said. “I’ll take them.” The wrecker drove away.

  Rosa knew she shouldn’t accept Marc’s gracious offer but Consuela was already limping toward Marc’s pickup. And refusing Marc’s help was not an option, not today. Gratitude washed through her, carrying her forward in its momentum.

  Beside the pickup, Rosa stood back, attempting to let Consuela get in first. However, Consuela insisted on watching how Rosa got in using the handhold. With a little help from Rosa and Marc, Consuela managed to land on the high seat beside Rosa. Soon Marc, Rosa and Consuela sat in a row, heading for the interstate. Rosa made certain to keep a few inches from him, her awareness of him so heightened.

  “We are very grateful,” Consuela said. “This is my husband, Juan’s, birthday and I have made him his favorite cookies.” Consuela lifted the wrapped box on her lap. “My poor Juan has the Alzheimer’s.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Marc said.

  And being Marc, he of course sounded genuinely sympathetic. Rosa fought the urge to slip her hand into the fold of his elbow. As she sat so close to him in his cab, memories of that double date returned. “How’s the Jill and Luke romance going over with your family?”

  Marc glanced at her. “My mom’s already knitting baby clothes.”

  Rosa laughed out loud.

  “You joke, Marc,” Consuela scolded with a smile. “But women love babies. And abuelos do, too.”

  “Abuelos?” Marc asked.

  “Grandfathers,” Rosa replied.

  “Si, my Juan adored Johnny,” Consuela said. “This illness is hard. It robs a family.”

  Each word her grandmother said jabbed Rosa like a needle. Johnny had been named for her grandfather Juan who had been the provider and backbone of their small family. Her grandfather had taught her about growing things, the work he loved above all other, and he’d taught her about faithfulness, kindness and about so much more.

  “From what I hear, it’s an awful disease.” Marc merged onto the interstate which would take them south toward the VA hospital.

  Rosa blinked away the moisture that had come to her eyes. Thanks to Marc they would be with her abuelo today. “I wish we could visit him more often,” she murmured.

  “God knows we do our best,” Consuela said, patting Rosa’s arm. “But thank you, Senor Marc. I did not want to miss my Juan’s birthday.”

  “No problem. Glad to do it.”

  Rosa noticed Marc needed a haircut. His hair waved up along his neckline, tempting her to smooth it down. Rosa folded her hands in her lap and gazed at the mixture of forest and farm land that they were driving through. Marc was the kind of man who made a woman want to depend on him. I can’t give in to that temptation. Marc carries enough already.

  Marc pulled into the parking lot at the VA hospital in Madison. Merely looking at the hospital sent a shudder of dread through him. He hadn’t been near a hospital since his long stay in January. Consuela’s handicapped tag made it possible for him to park close to the entrance. Resisting his rising dread at having to enter a hospital again, he helped Consuela down. Before he could offer Rosa his hand, she had scooted down to the asphalt on her own. He felt cheated.

  He admitted to himself that he had wanted to touch Rosa’s hand and wanted to help her. He’d already known that she carried a lot of responsibility but he hadn’t known that she had a grandfather with Alzheimer’s. In spite of the sick ache at the bottom of his stomach, he took a deep breath, preparing to enter the hospital.

  “You don’t need to come,” Rosa said, giving him a hesitant look.

  “I’ll come in.” He offered Consuela his arm. I’m not a coward.

  The older woman smiled and took his arm. “Gracias.”

  “My pleasure.” Marc led Rosa and her grandmother inside and then he let Rosa lead them.

  As he expected, walking into a hospital rocked his senses. The disinfectant smells unleashed a torrent of sensations and memories of his accident and long days and nights hooked to machines that shushed and beeped. He’d had broken ribs and right arm, a collapsed lung and lacerations on every piece of exposed skin. Pain—so much pain, and he’d been helpless.

>   He focused on taking one step and then the next. They need me. Keep it together. They walked down a bright corridor, the Alzheimer’s wing. Marc held tight to his cascading reactions. Rosa and Consuela needed his support.

  Consuela saw her husband. In spite of her limp that looked painful, she hurried ahead to the small man in a wheelchair sitting in the solarium near a window. Marc fell back and let Rosa hurry forward. Both women spoke a flurry of rapid Spanish.

  Marc moved around them, standing a short distance away. His breathing had become shallow and the cold sweat continued. He watched the man look at Consuela and his granddaughter without recognition. Consuela soldiered bravely on, speaking to him, stroking his face.

  To keep busy, Marc brought a chair for Consuela to sit on. She lowered herself and holding the man’s hand, caressed it with such love that Marc had to turn away.

  He busied himself bringing another chair, one for Rosa, from the opposite side of the room. When he had seated Rosa, he stood back alongside the window. Still breathing shallowly, he prayed for strength.

  Consuela opened the box she had brought for her husband and waved a white-powdered cookie under his nose. Suddenly he smiled and said, “Consuela.”

  Rosa’s grandmother began to weep, but her smile never wavered.

  Marc watched Rosa help her grandmother feed her grandfather bites of the cookie. The older man appeared frailer than Marc had expected, but perhaps this came from this terrible disease. As he watched the three, his own unnerving reactions waned. His breathing eased.

  Marc surprised himself by speaking up. “It’s such a nice day. Would they let us take Juan for a walk on the grounds?”

  The nurse that had been hovering nearby came right over. “Yes, of course. You can take him out the door at the end of the room and into the courtyard. We try to get our patients outside in the sun as often as we can.”

  Consuela popped up. “Bueno. My Juan always loved being out under the sun.” Rosa replied with only a thankful glance for Marc.

  His heart rate accelerated again. Marc took charge of the wheelchair and headed for the door to the courtyard. After walking Juan around the courtyard twice, Marc sensed that Consuela needed to rest again. So he led them to a park bench. Rosa and Consuela sat down and continued carrying on a conversation without any help from the man. They also kept feeding him bites of cookie. Marc leaned against a nearby column, still slightly unsteady.

  “Johnny,” said the older man and then he looked at Rosa. “Johnny.”

  Marc’s chest tightened. This sudden recognition seemed a gift straight from God. Consuela cried out with the joy of it.

  Tears falling, Rosa kissed her grandfather’s cheek. “Johnny is fine. Johnny está bien. He loves you. Johnny te ama.” She swallowed down her tears. “I love you. Te amo.”

  “Te amo, mi marido, my husband,” Consuela echoed and kissed her husband’s gnarled hand. She pressed it to her tear-dampened cheek.

  Marc had to turn away. The expression in Rosa’s eyes could have made a stone weep. I want to make things easier for this family, this woman, but how? Why did life have to be so harsh? And what could he do for Rosa?

  He pulled up in front of Rosa’s apartment with just minutes to spare. While Consuela, who insisted she didn’t need any help, hobbled inside to lie down, Rosa and Marc strolled toward the bus stop where Johnny would soon arrive. Exhausted, Marc had spent all his energy enduring the stress of a hospital visit.

  “Thank you so much for taking us,” Rosa said. “I wouldn’t have called you—”

  “I’m glad you did,” Marc interrupted.

  She glanced up at him. “I knew that most everybody else would be at work. I hoped you didn’t have class. We didn’t have time to make it there and back before Johnny came home—”

  “I’m glad I was available. I haven’t taken a formal job. I just help my dad and Luke with the farm.” He didn’t want her thanks. He had done so little.

  The yellow school bus rolled toward them and stopped, some metal creaking and gears grinding. Johnny ran down the steps straight into Marc. “Mr. Chambers, hi!”

  The joyful greeting moved Marc. He swept the boy up into his arms and then back down. “Hey, Johnny!”

  “What are you doing here?” Johnny asked, walking alongside Marc and grinning ear to ear.

  Before he replied, Marc caught Rosa’s unspoken admonition. She doesn’t want him to know where we’ve been. Why? “Your mom had some car trouble and I drove her home.”

  Johnny didn’t miss a beat. “Okay. Will you come to my first soccer game, Mr. Chambers? It’s this Thursday at six o’clock.”

  “Sure,” Marc said, looking into Rosa’s eyes, ignoring his failed intention to keep his distance. Johnny was a great kid and Marc realized for the first time how much he cared for the little guy. The trip to the VA had opened him to the need to show what he honestly felt for Johnny. That couldn’t be wrong. I can do this. I’m getting better. And I want to go to Johnny’s game. “Sure.”

  The day of Johnny’s first soccer match, Marc parked his truck in the gravel lot along the soccer field. More parents had come out for the first game of the season than the first practice. He hoped the game would be a good one for Johnny’s sake. Scanning the bleachers, he had no trouble picking out Rosa with her blue-and-red plaid blouse and dark hair and olive skin. She stood out like an exotic tree amid a pine forest. He ignored the inner voice, telling him not to sit near Rosa.

  He knew the moment she saw him. Her face lifted in a smile and her hand rose. Spirits soaring, he climbed up the bleachers two at a time and sat down beside her. “Hi,” he said, unable to say more. Her joyful expression at seeing him lifted him, filled him to the brim. He had to fight the urge to reach for her hand.

  “Hi,” she said back, still beaming at him.

  “Car?” he asked.

  “Fixed,” she said.

  Fortunately the game started then, saving them from this monosyllable conversation. Marc watched the game, picking up the rules as he observed the play. As Rosa had so aptly described it, the first game of the two coed soccer teams was like a grand human pinball machine game. However, Marc noticed that whenever Johnny got the ball, he had better control of it. Twice he managed to get the ball close to the goal.

  “He’s a natural,” Marc murmured.

  “Really?” Rosa replied quietly. “I’m not just imagining it because he’s my son?”

  Nodding, he kept his gaze trained on the other players who were running, tripping, bumping into each other, but mainly on Johnny. During a break in play, a mom came by with an empty plastic gallon ice cream container which bore the inscription Team Donations Please.

  Marc dug into his back pocket.

  Rosa gripped his wrist. “No, Marc, you don’t have to—”

  “Oh, let the man give,” the woman said.

  Marc recognized her then. She was the wife of the coach and his old teammate, Spence. He grinned. “I want to, Rosa.” He pulled out a bill and dropped it in the plastic bucket.

  It pained him to watch Rosa pull out two singles and drop them in.

  I wish I could help her more.

  Then she yawned and tried to hide it. She noticed him watching her and smiled. “I had to work the night shift last night.”

  “Do you have to work nights often?”

  “No, I was covering for a friend who just had outpatient surgery. She’ll be fine in a week.”

  Marc wracked his brain, trying to think of a way to be of help to Rosa. This woman carried the burden of a son, an aging grandmother and a grandfather in a nursing home. She worked as a waitress and on her Habitat house and took classes and studied. Compared to her, he led a carefree life. I want to help her, Lord, he repeated silently.

  In spite of all the fumbling and tripping during the match, the parents cheered on their children, calling out their names. Rosa and Marc did the same, shouting encouragement to Johnny. And to their delight, Johnny ended the game by making the winning goal.
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br />   Marc jumped to his feet, applauding and shouting. Rosa turned to him. He threw his arms around her and they did an impromptu victory dance and shout. Several people patted Rosa and him on the back, congratulating them on Johnny’s goal.

  In passing, one man said to Marc, “Your boy has real talent.”

  “He does, doesn’t he?” Marc replied, not correcting the man. My boy.

  And then Johnny was running up the bleachers to them. “Did you see me? Did you see me make that goal?”

  Marc swept Johnny up into his arms. “Did I see you? You bet I did! You were great!”

  Rosa took Johnny’s face in both her hands and turned his face back and forth. “You were wonderful! Maravilloso!”

  Marc put Johnny back on his feet but kept the boy’s hand. The three of them began walking down the bleachers together. Marc’s chest expanded with exhilaration. “I think that this boy deserves an A & W root beer float, don’t you think, Rosa?”

  She hesitated a moment and then with a glance at her son’s hopeful face, she replied, “Yes, a black cow float would be a good celebration.”

  Rosa, Marc and Johnny reached the bottom of the bleachers and were greeted by an exultant Consuela and Naomi. “And we’ll join you at A & W!” Naomi exclaimed.

  Suddenly Spence appeared at Marc’s side. “Sorry to interrupt. But Marc, I just found out that I am going to have to travel for work next month. I was wondering if you could come to the practices before and then take over for the few games I’m going to miss.”

  Marc’s breath caught in his throat. Two answers flew to mind—yes and no!

  Rosa’s breath caught in her throat. No, this is too much to ask.

  “Sure,” Marc said. “I’d enjoy it.”

  Rosa’s breath rushed out. “Are you sure—”

  Johnny’s shout of jubilation swallowed up her words of caution. Then others were coming up to congratulate them on Johnny’s winning goal. The Chambers and the Santos families moved with the crowd toward the parking lot.

  “Can I ride with you in your truck?” Johnny asked Marc.

  Marc looked to Rosa and so did Johnny. How could she say no to them? “See you two guys at A & W.”