Shelter of Hope

by Lyn Cote

  “I made it to the bus,” he said, testing this morning’s emotional waters, “just in time to get Johnny on it.”

  Rosa leaned forward and rested her head on his chest. Her touch was pure bliss. His heart thudded with sudden force. Yet before he could put an arm around her, she backed away.

  “Come in. I’ve made coffee.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes then.

  He entered the apartment, experiencing an odd hesitance. He’d never been here, just the two of them alone before. Rosa sounded better. What had happened to turn things around?

  “Did Johnny give you any more trouble last night?” she asked, leading him the short way to the small kitchen table.

  “No, he realized that he was in trouble, big-time. He brushed his teeth, got into his pj’s and went to sleep.” And he wants me to marry you. The thought had power. Marc experienced an odd sensation almost as if his heart was being drawn from him toward her. Rosa, could you love me?

  “Thanks for taking Johnny for the night.” She poured him a Green Bay mug of coffee and motioned him to sit opposite her. The fragrance of fresh coffee filled the tiny kitchen. “I’m glad you were able to deal with him. It always seems that when I am totally stressed out, that’s when he gets the same way.”

  Stressed out? Not by the announcement of the engagement, Rosa. What’s bothering you? Marc wrapped his freezing hands around the heavy mug. “Kids don’t know how to take a break. At least, that’s what my mom said Luke and I used to do—go full speed and then crash. It’s just kids.”

  She gave him a smile with only a sprinkle of amusement. “Don’t be afraid of me, Marc. I’m better today.” She paused as if waiting for something. Then she handed him a crumpled letter that had been lying on the table. “Read this and you’ll understand why I was so tense last night.”

  He scanned the very official-looking letter which asked that Trent’s monthly child support payment for Johnny be reduced. Marc hit the table with his palm. “Man! He’s got some nerve.”

  Rosa somehow made a sound that both agreed with him and also chastised Johnny’s natural father. “I called Eleanor Washburn this morning at her law office. She’s going to respond to Trent’s letter. Instead of decreasing the amount, she has encouraged me to ask for an increase. Johnny’s getting older and needs more financial support, not less.”

  “Good for you.” He sipped his hot coffee, still wishing he could kick Trent around the block a few times.

  “I’m sorry that I let this get me down.” She paused with her mug in front of her mouth. “It’s because…it’s because I think this request to decrease Johnny’s support comes from the fact that Trent wants more money for the new baby that’s coming.”

  Her words stoked Marc’s irritation. Trent, you are a jerk.

  She took a sip and then gave him a fierce look. “I won’t have Johnny slighted or treated as less important just because Trent decided he didn’t want the consequences of our…” She paused again, pressing her lips tight. “When Trent asked me out in high school, I was so flattered. I mean, he was class president, on the football team. I guess I was dazzled that he’d be interested in me. I made a poor decision to become sexually active in high school. Trent made promises he didn’t mean or couldn’t keep. I wish I had followed God’s plan of waiting till marriage.” She began dusting a few particles of salt from the tabletop.

  Marc nodded. “You deserve better.”

  She shook her head. “I knew I was doing wrong. Johnny deserves better. I’m doing my best—”

  “You deserve better,” Marc insisted, irritation with Trent pulsing through his veins. “And you’ve done a great job with him. He’s a good kid, well behaved and honest.”

  “With an occasional lapse.” She gave him a half smile. But her eyes completed it, crinkling up.

  The tight invisible band around his chest loosened. He grinned in return. His hand tingled wanting to reach for Rosa’s so near his. Finally, he bravely placed his hand over hers. “Is there any way I can help?”

  She didn’t take her hand away. “You’ve already helped.”

  Their hands warmed each other. He gazed into her eyes, memorizing each detail of her wing-like brows, the black center of her deep brown iris. He was afraid to push matters. Just holding her hand had been audacious. To say the words of love he wanted to voice, to speak them in the open air, with honesty and freedom…. It’s too soon. Too soon. For both of us.

  Chapter Nine

  In the morning, Rosa arrived at her Habitat house, ready to work. While waiting, she busied herself making another large pot of coffee. Then Naomi, followed by Marc, walked into the kitchen. The sight of him tripped her pulse to speed up.

  “Where is everybody?” Naomi asked.

  Rosa shrugged, downhearted. From outside came the sudden sound of car doors. All three of them turned to look out the window. And then came a knock at the side door. Rosa opened it and then stepped back with a gasp. Her mouth opened wide. She recognized her pastor, his wife, their teenaged sons, followed by two more friends from church.

  “We heard you needed some painters today,” the tall pastor with silvered hair announced with a grin. “We brought our own rollers and brushes.” He waved a new paint roller. “Where do we start?”

  Rosa covered her mouth with her hand. For a few moments, she couldn’t speak. “I didn’t expect this.” I don’t deserve this.

  “We’re sorry we haven’t come out before to help,” he said. “But life gets so busy. And I’m not much of a carpenter. However, I do know which end of a brush to hold.”

  Smiling, Marc came forward and shook the pastor’s hand. “You’ve come to the right place.” He motioned down the hallway toward the three bedrooms. “I’ll need people in each room to mask the woodwork, edge and then paint.”

  Rosa watched as some of her church family, all dressed in work clothing, claimed rooms to paint. In the midst of the abundant banter and laughter, Rosa was humbled and deeply touched.

  “Well, it certainly got crowded in here,” Naomi crowed as she headed toward the large bathroom behind the kitchen, her area to paint.

  The question of why Eleanor hadn’t come yet niggled at the back of Rosa’s mind. She looked to Marc, wondering why Eleanor hadn’t, at least, called. But being near Marc distracted her. He looked so competent, so kind. His face always crinkled into that smile she loved to see. She nearly said this but substituted, “I didn’t expect them…I didn’t know…”

  Marc grinned at her. “I know, but it was just what we both needed for a change. A good surprise. Now, Rosa, you are going to help me hang your kitchen cabinets.” He motioned grandly toward the large cardboard boxes scattered around the empty living room.

  Rosa heard his no-nonsense tone and immediately her worries lifted. He was taking charge and she liked it. If Marc put her kitchen together, it would be done right. But worry tugged again. Eleanor, why aren’t you here this morning?

  “I wonder where our fearless leader is,” Marc said, putting her concern into words.

  “I was wondering that, too,” she said, looking toward the door. She shook her head at her own foolishness. Did she expect Eleanor to appear just because they had mentioned her name? Still, Rosa’s midsection churned with uncertainty.

  Marc pulled out a box cutter and began opening boxes. Soon her beautiful dark walnut cabinets sat around the living room.

  Rosa’s cell phone rang. She jerked it from her pocket.

  “Rosa,” the brisk voice on the line said, “Eleanor here.”

  Relief mixed with hurt rushed up and knotted inside Rosa. “Eleanor—”

  The lawyer cut her off. “I’ve been delayed at the office. I’m waiting to hear back from Trent’s lawyer. He said he would call this morning. And I don’t want to give him any reason for complaint. I would have the call forwarded to my cell phone so I could be there to move work along. But I have all your papers here and might need them for reference.”

  “That’s fine,” Rosa said, trying to feel
fine. “My pastor and his family have come to paint,” Rosa said. Her mind still rebelled at having to go through this bad business with Trent. Why had he stirred matters up? I wouldn’t have caused him trouble. She tried to close her mind to Trent and his petty meanness.

  “I’ll come as soon as I can.” Eleanor hung up before Rosa could mention the latest of what Trent had done or rather left undone.

  Rosa closed her phone and slipped it into her pocket, suddenly feeling lost. She had wanted to tell Eleanor not to spend too much time on this thing with Trent. After all, she wasn’t paying Eleanor. I don’t want to take advantage of her good nature.

  In spite of her dark mood, Rosa smiled stiffly, not wishing to involve Marc any further in her problems. She appreciated his support but would not impose on it, especially since she was beginning to depend on him. I can’t do that. The house is nearly done and then he will not be around as much. “How can I help, Marc?”

  He began hefting the upper cabinets to the floor below the places for each and motioned for her to join in. Unable to lift the heavy walnut cabinets, Rosa “walked” several over and then waited to see what she needed to do next to help him.

  “These are really nice,” he said, surveying them.

  “They were a bit more expensive,” Rosa admitted, “but Eleanor encouraged me to get these instead of the cheaper ones.” She still didn’t feel comfortable with this decision.

  “Stop beating yourself up about the expense,” Marc urged. “These will last you a lifetime. Good wood lasts. You don’t want the cheap ones that won’t stand up to daily use.”

  She looked at him, silently repeating his words. She was beating herself up over this and so much more. “Okay.” Then she turned away, unexpected tears smarting in her eyes. I don’t deserve this. All these good people taking time and effort to help me.

  Then Marc appeared at her elbow. “What’s the matter?”

  “I don’t deserve all this,” she said, unable to stop the words from coming.

  “That’s just a crazy way to think, Rosa,” he said in a kind tone. He touched her arm gently. “You are a good person, a wonderful mother. Why shouldn’t people help you? You are always ready to help someone else.”

  She shook her head, forcing back this display of emotion. She shuddered once as if suddenly freezing. “I don’t know. I—”

  “I know,” he said firmly, “you’ve been through a lot and carried a heavy load for a long time. But that’s all past and this is the present, okay?” He cupped her elbow in one hand.

  His gentle touch and reassuring words deepened her reaction to him, the pull to move closer. She forced herself not to turn to him and lean against him. Father, I don’t deserve this house. I don’t deserve all these people coming to help me, especially this good man. But thank You. Thank You. And please don’t let Trent ruin my joy in this blessing. Bring Trent’s support check soon. Guard my heart against resentment.

  A few days later on a cold but sunny morning, Rosa stood outside her house. Moving in day had arrived. Snug in her red University of Wisconsin hoodie, she couldn’t stop looking at her house, all finished. After she was all moved in, there would be a potluck with the volunteers in the basement. Rosa gazed at the realization of a dream she hadn’t expected to ever come true.

  She and her family had always lived in houses which belonged to others. I should be happy. Yet a block of granite sat on her lungs. Trent had managed to cause her to continue worrying on this special day. I hate that. And she hated that she had put off telling Eleanor why.

  Rosa dreaded even voicing Trent’s name. Just thinking about him covered her sun with thick angry clouds. She lifted her chin. I’ll tell Eleanor. Today.

  Now at the curb, she admired her finished house. It was sided with a no-upkeep siding which looked like wood and her door was a dark pine green and the trim a lighter shade of the same green. Satisfaction rolled through her, strong and positive.

  “It really looks nice, doesn’t it?” Naomi said, standing beside her. Other people began arriving, many carrying fragrant Crock-Pots and casserole dishes to plug in on the kitchen counter. When Eleanor came out onto the front stoop, Rosa approached her. But Rosa didn’t want to say what she needed here in front of everyone. Rosa held back the worry until she could catch a private moment with her lawyer.

  In swift order, Eleanor had the moving-in organized. The volunteers with good backs lined up and carried the largest boxes and Rosa’s few pieces of furniture to the specified rooms.

  A large delivery truck pulled up to the curb.

  Rosa happened to stop next to Marc.

  “Are you expecting new furniture?” he asked with a smile.

  “I just ordered a new mattress and box spring,” she explained, watching Eleanor for an opportunity to speak to her privately. “I needed a new one because I slept on the sofa bed in our apartment. And that will be in the basement family room.”

  Then Rosa’s breath caught in her throat. She ran forward, “No! No! I didn’t order that furniture!”

  The delivery men in khaki work clothing halted by the cherrywood dresser they had just unloaded. The larger of the two men, the one who needed a shave badly, looked at Rosa. “No, this is for you, lady. Here, read this.” He handed her what looked like an invoice.

  She studied it, a line forming between her eyebrows. “There must be some mix-up.”

  Marc watched Rosa’s expression change from irritation to wide-eyed shock. He made his way through the small knots of volunteers to her side and read over her shoulder. The paper didn’t look out of order, just a regular delivery invoice but it was for more than a mattress set. “This doesn’t make sense.”

  “There must be some mix-up,” Rosa repeated, still looking at the invoice. “Like I told you—I only ordered a mattress and box spring, not a whole bedroom set.” She waved the invoice as if scolding it.

  She turned to the delivery men. “You need to call your boss. This is a mistake.”

  “No, it isn’t a mistake,” the truck driver with the stubbly chin replied. “You’re right though, this was a funny one. Somebody called the store, ordered the bedroom set and then sent us an anonymous money order with the price in full.”

  “What?” This one word came from Rosa and Eleanor almost in unison.

  Marc hadn’t noticed that Eleanor had come to where he and Rosa were standing by the furniture. He handed her the invoice, but was ignored.

  “What store do you work for and what’s the number?” Eleanor asked in her don’t-try-my-patience lawyer-tone. She whipped out her cell phone. “This might be some scam,” she murmured.

  The trucker pointed to the side of the truck for the store logo and number. By now, everyone had stopped and come outside to watch the center stage drama. They gathered around Rosa and Marc while Eleanor talked into her cell phone, sounding disbelieving and disgruntled. She snapped her phone shut. “Well, this man is right. It happened just the way he described.”

  “Just like the doughnuts and coffee we received early on,” Naomi added. “But they were paid with cash. I wonder who Rosa’s fairy god-person could be.” Naomi teased, eyes gleaming with fun.

  “It might be you,” Marc pointed out.

  “No, not me.” Naomi shook her head. “What about you?”

  The question stung since he’d wanted to do something like this for Rosa. But he didn’t have the money to buy furniture like this.

  Suddenly he thought of something he could make for Rosa in his grandfather’s old woodworking shed. Could he have it done before Thanksgiving for Rosa? It was just what she’d need, too. He began planning right then.

  “Hey,” the delivery truck driver said, rubbing his chin. “This isn’t our last call of the day. Can we get this delivered or what?”

  Marc drew Rosa backward out of the path of the delivery men. He glanced around, noticing that even Rosa’s new neighbors had come out of their houses to see what all the commotion was all about. And with his own plan shining within him,
he didn’t feel so bad that a stranger had come to Rosa’s rescue. Well not as bad.

  “Marc, I don’t feel right about accepting this furniture,” Rosa said in a voice just for him. She had folded her arms in front of herself.

  “Why?” He leaned closer, smelling her sweet scent, something with the fragrance of apples. “You need the furniture, don’t you?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Accepting an anonymous gift isn’t against the law, right?” he continued persuasively. He touched her arm, wishing he could pull her close and give her a hug, but there were too many eyes watching.

  “No, but—”

  He squeezed her arm instead of hugging her. “Rosa, let it go. God has blessed you. Accept it. Don’t be an ungracious receiver.”

  She bowed her head. “You’re right. It’s just that—”

  “It’s just that you have shouldered the responsibility for so long that it seems funny to have help?” Even as he posed this question, it came to him that he was guilty of the same failing.

  He had thought he could recover from the accident all by himself, but God had sent a stray dog to help him sleep at night and a little boy who needed him.

  He looked around. If only they were alone, he would have said much more. He pressed her arm again, wishing he could touch her cheek, her hair. He took a deep breath. “We’ll talk later, okay?”

  Rosa nodded, still looking troubled. “Yes, we better get busy or all my stuff will be put in the wrong closets.” She hurried past the delivery men as they came back to carry in another piece of furniture.

  Bereft, Marc watched her go. She was moving into her house which meant that he wouldn’t be seeing her as much, just glimpses at the local college and at Johnny’s soccer practices and games. The lonely thought whistled through him like a cold wind. He watched more furniture being carried in. And he comforted himself, knowing he’d make a surprise for Rosa. Johnny and Rosa had become a part of his family. He wanted them to have only the best of everything. And I don’t want to lose them. He tried to push this lonely thought away. I won’t lose them—if only the nightmares will stay away.