Shelter of Hope

by Lyn Cote

  Rosa knew what he meant about that. Illness and death gave a person too much time to think. Her mother’s long illness and death and her grandfather’s Alzheimer’s gave her understanding of this. For years she had harbored bad feelings toward this man. Now his honesty and his own suffering made it impossible to go on blaming him. All the bad feelings melted like sugar in warm water. “I’m glad you came tonight.”

  He gave her a half smile. “I don’t want to pressure you, but I would like to see Johnny regularly. Not with my wife or sons. They haven’t faced death yet. They are still wrapped up in getting what they want, doing what will impress others. I want time with Johnny, just a grandfather and his grandson.”

  “I’ll think about how we can do that,” Rosa promised.

  “Please. Now why don’t you just lie back and rest. I read Johnny’s chart and he’s going to be fine.”

  Rosa burst into tears.

  Dr. Fleming patted her shoulder. “You’ve been carrying a heavy load. I’m sorry I’ve been off busy, preoccupied with much less important matters than my first grandson.”

  Rosa wept quietly. She rested her head against the high back of the recliner, thinking about this man and what he had told her. His simple words had released a painful tightness inside her. Then Marc came to mind. Why hadn’t he stayed or come back or even called? She’d been thinking of herself, not how this might have affected Marc. How was he handling this accident?

  Late the next morning, Rosa signed the last paper in order for Johnny to be released from the hospital. The nurse appeared with the wheelchair. Johnny had just been given crutches and been shown how to use them. His small face was set in lines of misery. But she didn’t think they were due to physical pain. She would have to help him bring up what was causing him such worry. She hoped she was up to that.

  Her mind kept bringing up her conversation with Dr. Fleming last night. His sad story kept her spirits low. So much unhappiness in this world, sometimes it nearly overwhelmed her. “Johnny, we can go home now,” she said.

  Johnny nodded, his mouth shut tight.

  Dr. Fleming’s story had so many layers of regret and truth. Rosa sighed.

  “Come here, Johnny,” the nurse said. “I’ll help you into the chair.”

  Johnny looked up, puzzled. “I thought I was supposed to use my crutches.”

  The nurse smiled. “That’s for at home and school. At the hospital you get a ride in the wheelchair to the door where your mom will pick you up and drive you home.”

  Johnny walked haltingly with his crutches over to the nurse and let her help him into the chair.

  Rosa was grateful for the nurse’s understanding and help. She hurried ahead and went down to get the car to meet them at the door. Soon, Johnny was beside her in their car. Thoughts of Marc kept coming to mind. He hadn’t called this morning. She had expected him to call. And Johnny was not just sore and tired, he was deeply upset. Rosa’s mood dragged low.

  Rosa tried to get Johnny to talk on the way home, but he didn’t say much, just one syllable words. Rosa tried to think why her son should be acting this way. Deciding to wait till they reached home, she bided her time. I should be happy. We’re going home. But matters weren’t right and she knew it.

  Soon she parked on the slab beside her house where a future garage would be built someday. She came around and helped Johnny, who was wearing a soft-sided cast, onto his crutches. He managed to walk the few steps to the side door.

  Consuela was waiting there to open the door for him. Rosa stayed behind Johnny in case he lost his balance and fell backward. He made it up the three steps and through the door.

  “My Johnny,” Consuela greeted him, “I’m so happy to see you home. And you walk so good with the crutches. Your grandfather had to use them when he came home from the war—”

  Johnny burst into tears.

  “What is the matter?” Consuela asked.

  With his crutches, Johnny walked down the hall to his bedroom. And went to his bed.

  Rosa followed him with Consuela behind her. At his doorway, Rosa paused. “Johnny, what’s the matter?”

  “Are you in pain?” Consuela asked.

  Johnny shook his head and sat on his bed, sobbing as if his heart were breaking.

  Rosa sat beside him. Staying at the door, Consuela turned her walker and sat on its seat. Rosa rested a hand on his shoulder. “Can you tell us why you’re crying, Johnny?”

  For several moments, Johnny did not reply. Then he looked up, his eyes drenched with tears. “Marc’s mad at me.” This brought another paroxysm of tears.

  Rosa stroked her son’s shoulder and arm and murmured repeatedly, “Johnny, it will be all right.”

  When Johnny’s tears began slowing, Consuela said, “Johnny, Senor Marc is not unhappy with you. You should not think that.”

  Rosa tried to pull Johnny closer. But he wouldn’t let her.

  “Marc is mad at me. I didn’t watch where I was going. If I had watched where I was going, I wouldn’t have gotten hit by the car.”

  “Johnny, no—” Consuela said.

  “Marc’s mad at me or he wouldn’t have left the hospital. He left me because I didn’t watch where I was going!” Johnny’s face turned redder.

  Rosa tried to reason with her son that Marc wouldn’t blame Johnny but to no avail.

  Marc’s absence from the hospital and not being there when Johnny came home were proof in her son’s mind that Marc blamed him for the accident. That made her course of action clear.

  Rosa stood up. “Johnny, I’ll call Marc and he can tell you he doesn’t think the accident is your fault.” Rosa pulled out her cell phone and punched in Marc’s cell phone number. It directed her immediately to his voice mail. So she dialed his home number. No answer.

  Now she was miffed. She dialed Naomi’s number.

  “Hello, Naomi here.”

  “Naomi, is Marc at home or away?”

  “He’s home. But I think he should be at school.”

  Rosa chewed on this information. “Could you go upstairs and knock on the door?”

  “Already did that. He didn’t answer but his truck is here and he’s not next door with his dad. I already checked.”

  Rosa didn’t know whether to become irritated or worried. She recalled how white Marc had gone the day he’d taken them to the VA to visit her grandfather; also when Consuela had been rushed to the E.R. He’d been the same shade of white yesterday. But that was no excuse. She wasn’t taking this sitting down. “Thanks, Naomi. I’ll be right over.”

  She started toward the door. “Johnny, you can watch TV and eat anything you want. I’ll be back soon.”

  Consuela fortunately didn’t question Rosa but let her go. Rosa pulled on her jacket again and soon was driving down Chambers Road. She pulled into the drive. She saw Marc’s pickup through the small windows in the garage door.

  Out of the car, she headed straight for the back entrance and bounded up the stairs. At the top of the stairs, she knocked on Marc’s door.

  He didn’t answer.

  She heard Amigo on the other side of the door, pawing the wood. The sounds chafed her more. She opened the door and let Amigo out. He raced down the steps and nudged open the back door. As the door slammed behind him, he began barking.

  She stepped into Marc’s kitchen and heard nothing. The apartment felt empty.

  “Marc?” She walked forward. “Marc? It’s Rosa.” She hesitated but recalling Johnny’s distress, she ventured farther.

  Marc was sitting on his couch, staring out the windows. To say he looked awful was an understatement of colossal proportions. Her aggravation switched to concern.

  “Marc, what’s wrong?” She hurried to him and perched beside him. The question was a foolish one of course. She’d already guessed what was wrong.

  He looked at her and then turned away. “I’m not feeling like company today, Rosa.”

  She laid a hand on his arm. “Marc, I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said in a n
o-nonsense tone, “but I need you to get dressed and come home with me. Johnny needs to see you.”

  He looked at her then, still white-faced and drawn. “Johnny? He’s going to be all right, isn’t he?”

  “He’s on crutches and is sore but otherwise, he’s fine.” She moved closer to Marc.

  “I’m glad,” he said in a dead-sounding voice.

  Two reactions flashed inside her. She was worried about Marc. She was angry at Marc.

  “Why are you sitting here like this?” she asked, an edge creeping into her voice.

  He turned sad eyes toward her. “I’m so sorry. I should have known what would happen. Johnny was my responsibility… I’m so sorry.”

  Rosa experienced one of those startling moments of insight. Dr. Fleming’s voice came to mind from last night when he’d told her about his brother’s death and his guilt at not saving him. Then Johnny’s voice this morning, saying that Marc blamed him for his getting hit by the car. And her own guilt over raising Johnny without a father. Guilt. So much, and unmerited.

  She stood up. “Stop.”

  Marc looked shocked. “What?”

  “Stop feeling guilty. We are always feeling guilty about things we did not cause and cannot fix. Stop.”

  Marc stared at her. “You don’t understand—”

  “I do understand.” The conviction that she was right surged upward within her like a geyser of assurance. “You’re upset about Johnny being hit by that immature teenager that shouldn’t have been allowed to drive a car full of all his friends. Showing off. That’s what the police told me.”

  “Rosa, I—”

  A wave of urgency carried her on. “And you are still feeling horribly guilty about that chain reaction accident in January.”

  “Rosa.” He stood up, facing her, clenching his fists at this sides. “Don’t—”

  “Do you want to sit here and wallow or help Johnny?” She propped her hands on her hips.

  He stared at her. “Help Johnny? What does Johnny need? You know I’ll do anything for him.”

  She took a step closer, her chin jutting toward him, challenging. “He needs you. That’s what he needs. He says that you are blaming him for getting hurt—”

  “What?” Marc squawked.

  “He says it’s his fault for running in front of the car,” she declared. “That he should have been watching out. He thinks that’s why you left the hospital last night and didn’t come to our house today. Because you’re mad at him.”

  “He thinks I’m blaming him?” Marc looked astonished. “Why would Johnny think that he was to blame?”

  “Why would you, Marc—” Unexpected, Naomi’s sharp voice intruded “—think that you are to blame for Johnny’s accident?” Naomi appeared in the kitchen with a tray of coffee and rolls. “And why do you think you’re to blame for the January accident? Could you have stopped either one from happening?”

  Both Rosa and Marc turned to look at Naomi. Her crisp words hung in the air, invisible but palpable. She set the tray fragrant of coffee and cinnamon rolls on the kitchen table.

  “Life happens,” Naomi continued, “and what we can’t handle, we turn over to God. Caroline was your friend, Marc. She wouldn’t want you carrying this undeserved guilt.”

  Rosa froze in place. These were heavy duty words.

  Marc sucked in air and stared at Naomi.

  Rosa drew up her courage again. “Naomi’s right. The accident in January wasn’t your fault. And Johnny’s getting hit yesterday wasn’t his fault or yours. Now you have to come back with me. Johnny needs you.”

  Marc raked his hands through his short hair.

  “I’m not taking no for an answer.” Rosa folded her arms and gave him a look that echoed her words. Naomi made a sound of agreement and folded her arms just like Rosa.

  “Let me freshen up.” Marc hurried toward his bedroom.

  “I’ll pour us coffee in take-along mugs.” Rosa turned and went to the kitchen counter and began opening cabinet drawers until she found what she wanted.

  “I’m going to go down and get the dogs into the pen,” Naomi said. “I’m going with you. I want to see Johnny and Consuela.” Naomi shut the door behind her. Her footsteps clattered down the steps.

  Rosa sipped the strong hot coffee and picked up one of the still warm rolls. Inside her, currents swirled. She had just witnessed something, learned something and she needed time to digest it. This would be a day to remember.

  Within an hour, Marc drove up to Rosa’s house, his stomach filled with lead. He let Rosa drive in first and then drew in behind her. The three of them plus Amigo walked swiftly out of the cold and into the snug house. Marc refused to let the nightmares he’d suffered all through the dark hours capture his mind again. He knew now what he must do for himself, but Johnny came first. Would he be able to reassure Johnny?

  Consuela was sitting in the kitchen. She shook her head. “Johnny won’t come out of his room.”

  Marc pulled himself together and said, “Excuse me.” Leaving Amigo with the women, he made his way down the short hall to Johnny’s room. Would he be able to make things right? He paused at the door. Johnny looked up and burst into fresh tears.

  Marc rushed inside and shoved the door closed behind him. “Don’t cry, Johnny. Don’t cry. It wasn’t your fault.”

  Johnny held out his arms, reaching for him.

  Grateful, Marc went to the bed, sat down and folded the boy into his arms. Feeling Johnny sobbing against him hurt Marc’s heart. He held the boy close and rocked him, saying, “It’s all right, Johnny. Everything’s going to be all right.” How could I have not reassured him, God? Can’t I do anything right?

  Then in his mind, Marc heard again Rosa saying, “Stop.” Stop? How did one stop these kinds of guilty thoughts?

  Finally, Johnny’s weeping slowed and became a hiccupping-hitching sound. Marc pulled back and looked down into the boy’s wet face. “Johnny, I am really sorry that I didn’t stay with you longer at the hospital. And I’m sorry I wasn’t here to meet you today when you got home. That’s my fault and has nothing to do with you. You didn’t do anything wrong. Okay?”

  Johnny looked up at him solemnly. “For real?”

  “For real. I’m not mad at you. I’m just sad that you had to go through this accident and get hurt. That really made me sad. You see, I was in a bad accident in January.” Marc’s heartbeat sped up. “When I saw you get hurt, it made me think of all the bad stuff from that day. And then I felt guilty that I hadn’t protected you yesterday.”

  “But you weren’t close enough to pull me out of the way,” Johnny objected.

  Marc kissed the top of Johnny’s head. “You’re right. I couldn’t have stopped the accident. And neither could you. That teenager, driving crazy and trying to impress his friends, was the one responsible.” A needle of anger sizzled through Marc. He pushed it aside, recalling his own teen days. I took chances, too.

  Johnny hiccupped once more and then knuckled his eyes. “I’m tired and I’m hungry.”

  Marc ruffled his hair and smiled. “You’re in luck. Naomi came with me and she brought some doughnuts and cinnamon rolls.”

  Johnny grinned. “Do any of the doughnuts have red jelly in them?”

  “Let’s go and see.” Marc rose and so did his spirits.

  “Want to see me walk with my crutches?”

  “Yes, and let’s go and get our share before the women eat them all.” Marc grinned and his face liked it. The dark shadows that had tortured him all night lifted. He was able to draw a deep breath.

  When they came into the kitchen, Amigo barked and raced to greet Johnny. Marc reached down and picked up Amigo so he could “wash” Johnny’s face without knocking Johnny over.

  Johnny shrieked with pleasure. “Amigo, hey, Amigo!”

  Soon they were sitting around the kitchen table, eating the doughnuts and drinking coffee or cocoa.

  “Mom, when can I get my dog? You promised I could get a dog when we got our house
.”

  Marc looked to Rosa and raised one eyebrow.

  “I think we’ll go today,” Rosa said.

  “The animal shelter is open all day,” Marc agreed.

  Johnny pumped his arm into the air and yelled, “Yes!”

  “After you eat and take a long nap,” Rosa added.

  Hours later the three of them were in Marc’s pickup parking at the county animal shelter. Marc helped Rosa down first. She reveled in his strength and care as he swung her down. Of course, she could have gotten down by herself. But this courtesy soothed and healed her. Then Marc lifted Johnny out and helped him get on his crutches. She stood and watched, the low temperature of November on the outside, contrasted with the warmth in her heart.

  Rosa led her two guys into the animal shelter. She grinned at Marc and he grinned back. Johnny was also grinning from one ear to the other.

  Soon they were in the dog kennel, walking down a line of cages which held barking dogs of all descriptions, ages and sizes. Johnny went ahead of them. He walked beside the shelter volunteer, a middle-aged woman, dressed in denim, fleece and hiking boots and who looked to be the “outdoorsy” type. Her name was Annie.

  Rosa let Marc take her hand. Just like the visit to the pumpkin farm, they were a family today. Rosa wrapped herself within this cozy new bond.

  “I’m so glad you are looking for a dog, not a puppy,” Annie said. “There are so many good dogs who are already housebroken and who need a home.”

  “I don’t have time to housebreak a puppy,” Rosa said. Marc pulled her under his arm as if he wanted no separation between them. Rosa felt her whole face smiling.

  Annie stooped beside Johnny. “I’m going to go back to my job. Take your time, but you’ll know when you see your dog.” The woman turned and left them alone with the dogs.

  Rosa and Marc stood back, proud parents, and watched Johnny on his crutches walk slowly down the line of cages. Marc’s nearness was working on her heart. I wish he could kiss me.

  Marc leaned down and stole a kiss.

  A miracle to be sure. She drew in a long breath and relaxed against him.

  He tucked her even closer and together they watched Johnny go from cage to cage. He walked down the whole line of cages and then turned back. He stopped at one cage.