by Lyn Cote
Marc kissed her hair and then looked to Johnny. Rosa’s throat was thick with feeling, so she cleared it. “Have you found your dog?”
Johnny nodded. “This is my dog. It says her name’s Trudy.”
Hand in hand, Marc and Rosa walked down to Trudy’s cage. Marc stooped to look into the cage. “Trudy’s your dog?”
Johnny nodded emphatically. “See her eyes. She’s got Amigo eyes.”
“What does that mean?” Rosa asked.
“She’s got love for me in her eyes.”
The words dissolved Rosa’s heart into a warm puddle somewhere around her navel. “Oh, Johnny.”
Marc gave Rosa a one-arm hug and she reveled in their closeness, their sharing this special moment in Johnny’s life.
The volunteer Annie opened the door at the end of the hall. “Have you made your choice?”
Rosa nodded to Johnny.
“I want Trudy,” Johnny announced. “She’s loving me with her eyes.”
“Oh, good choice,” Annie said, hurrying down the aisle. “Trudy is a great dog. Very loving and sweet-natured.” She opened the cage. “Trudy, this is your boy.”
The dog, that was brown, tan and white and must be part sheltie, wiggled and yipped, licking Johnny’s face. Johnny propped his crutches against the cages and then slid down onto his seat, laughing. “Trudy, hey, girl, I’m your boy.”
The formalities of signing the adoption papers and paying the nominal fee went quickly. The volunteer gestured toward a large wooden box with a slot in the top. “Our shelter can always use donations. We don’t euthanize so our costs are high at certain times of the year.”
With Rosa at his side, Marc pulled out his wallet and shoved a folded ten into the slot. “We’ll remember you at Christmas, too. Now I think, Rosa, we should get our boy home. He looks tuckered out.”
The words “our boy” sang through Rosa, a thrilling joy that she couldn’t ignore. She went under Marc’s arm and squeezed his chest in response.
The volunteer finished hooking the leash onto Trudy’s collar. “Now be sure to get a name tag for her collar and keep up her shots. And you know you don’t have to keep her name Trudy. You can choose your own.”
“I like her name,” Johnny said while Trudy washed his chin. “I like everything about Trudy.”
“That’s what we like to hear.” Annie walked them to the door and waved goodbye.
Marc gave Rosa the end of the leash. He picked Johnny up and swung him onto the pickup’s seat and then stowed the crutches there, too. He helped Rosa up and Trudy jumped into the truck and sat at Rosa’s feet.
Rosa couldn’t recall feeling this happy, this safe for a long time. Not even moving into her own home had filled her with such overflowing joy. Johnny could have been seriously hurt or killed yesterday. Today he’s home from the hospital and smiling. Thank You, Father.
But she had to admit that what had really brought her joy to a bright bubbling froth was Marc saying, “our boy.”
The long lovely day was fading into early autumn twilight. Rosa’s house had been cheerfully full all day. She loved that. Marc stood at the sink helping her wash, dry and put the supper dishes away. Consuela and Naomi had moved into the great room on the loveseat and were sipping their after supper decaf coffee and waiting for the rerun of the Lawrence Welk Show to come on the public TV station.
Johnny still sat at the table, hemmed in by Amigo and Trudy, each with a head resting in his lap. The two once-stray dogs had bonded immediately. Rosa and Marc finished putting away the last dish. Rosa turned to see Johnny’s head begin to nod. “Marc?”
Taking the cue, he went to the boy and lifted him from his chair. As Marc carried him down the hall to his bed, Johnny didn’t even wake. He mumbled something and then his head rested loosely on Marc’s shoulder. “Let’s get our boy to bed,” Marc said.
Rosa touched his arm, smiling. Marc had said it again, “our boy.” She led the way down the hall and turned back Johnny’s covers.
Marc gently laid the boy on the bed and helped Rosa undress him. The exhausted boy barely stirred as they pulled on his Spider-Man pajamas. Both dogs watched from the foot of the bed. Finally, Rosa pulled the covers up to Johnny’s chin. Both dogs jumped up on the bed. Then she turned to Marc.
He folded her into his arms and kissed her as if he had done it forever. Then she rested her head on Marc’s firm chest, reveling in their closeness. From the great room, the snappy notes which signaled the start of the Lawrence Welk Show came on. Ta ta-ta-ta ta-ta-ta Ta…
“I think it’s time we took Amigo and Trudy for a walk, don’t you?” Marc rubbed her back.
“Just what I was thinking.” She motioned the dogs who had settled onto the foot of Johnny’s bed to follow them. Trudy and Amigo each barked once as if in agreement and padded out to the back door.
Rosa and Marc followed the dogs. After they pulled on their jackets and gloves, they snapped the leashes on the dogs. “We’re taking the dogs for a walk,” Marc announced.
The grandmothers wished them well, but didn’t take their eyes off the show. Some man with a big smile and a red bow tie was tap dancing.
Marc opened the door and the four of them stepped out into the cold early darkness. Rosa shivered and Marc pulled her under his arm. So they walked arm in arm, each letting the dogs at the end of each leash go ahead. Amigo and Trudy sniffed industriously as they walked down the quiet street. A light snow had dusted the ground this afternoon.
“I’m sorry,” Marc said in a quiet voice, not wanting to disturb the easy moment. “I didn’t think how my leaving the hospital and not going to get Johnny today would affect him. I was wrapped up in myself in my own misery.”
“Wrapped up in myself,” Rosa repeated the phrase and then the second one, “in my own misery. I think I know what you mean. We make the mistake of taking on guilt and that brings misery and in the end we are wrapped up in ourselves. A bad place to be.”
Marc squeezed her closer. “I should have gone to the counseling that the doctors wanted me to have. They said that suffering an accident can cause post-traumatic stress disorder. And that an accident like mine which had been fatal for a friend and affected so many people would most likely have after effects.”
She liked the feel of moving with him as they walked. I’m not alone any more.
“But I got better,” Marc continued, “and the nightmares and flashbacks to the accident went away until…”
“Until what?” she prompted.
“Until that first day, the dedication day at this house—”
“You mean when you saved Johnny when he ran after that dog, the one that might have been Amigo?”
Marc kissed the part of Rosa’s face nearest him. “Yes, it took me back, the sounds and the way my heart raced. That night I had nightmares of the beginning of the January accident over and over.”
Rosa stopped and heedless of who might be looking out their window turned to wrap herself around Marc’s chest.
Marc rested his head on the top of her hair. “Don’t feel sorry for me. I didn’t do what I should have, which was to admit that I did have some degree of post-traumatic shock. And call the counselor. I didn’t even do that yesterday when I should have. I just crawled into my cave and went through another horrible night of bad dreams and chills.”
She lifted her face and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. The restraint between them had evaporated. Nothing separated them now but finally talking out the guilt and purging it.
Marc stroked her face with his leather-gloved hand. “I’m going to call the counselor in the morning and make an appointment. I’m not going to make you and Johnny suffer—”
“And you shouldn’t have to suffer, Marc. You are a good man with a good heart. Caroline wouldn’t want you to suffer like this. She was your friend.”
Marc wrapped his arms around her tightly and whispered, “Rosa.”
Amigo yipped and Trudy pulled at her leash.
Rosa chuckled. “The dogs
want us to get moving again.”
“I want us to get moving again, too. Or we’ll freeze in place,” Marc teased, starting to walk again. “Rosa, I’m in love with you. Will you marry me?”
The rich, rosy joy rippled through her nerves and she understood at last what it meant to walk on air. Her lightheartedness clashed with the serious subject that she must talk through, both of them must talk through. This is the time to settle this before life intrudes again. Before promises had been exchanged.
“We’ve both carried guilt for too long, Marc.”
He glanced her way and nodded soberly.
“Your guilt was false guilt. Mine was real guilt, the regret of having Johnny without a father. But God had forgiven me. Yet I still held on to my guilt and even felt that I didn’t deserve a house, going back to school—you. Both are wrong—false guilt and lingering guilt after confession.”
Marc pulled her under his arm again. “You’re right.”
Rosa drew in a deep breath of the freezing air. Someone was raking their yard, making that scratchy fall rhythm. “Do you know who came to visit me last night?” Rosa asked.
“Who?” Marc kissed her cheek, his breath warming her skin.
“Trent’s father. Another doctor had told him that Johnny was in the hospital.”
Trudy and Amigo found a stick. Amigo picked it up and brought it to Marc. He bent, took the stick, threw it ahead. The dogs scampered after it. “What did he want?”
“Dr. Fleming wants to get to know Johnny,” she said. “He told me why he wanted to help me now with Johnny.”
“I’d like to hear that.” Trudy bounded back to Marc with the stick. He threw it farther for the dogs and put his arm around her again.
“Dr. Fleming said that he was one of fraternal twins and that when they were children, his brother fell through ice and died. He said that Johnny is darker like me, but otherwise is the image of his brother.” Just recounting this sobered Rosa.
“So it’s because Johnny looks like his brother?” This time Amigo retrieved the stick and raced back to Marc.
“In a way.” She turned to lay her cheek on his leather fleece-lined jacket. “You see he reacted like Johnny did yesterday. Dr. Fleming blamed himself for not saving his brother.”
“That’s harsh.” The stick flew from Marc’s hand and then he hugged her close.
Rosa nodded solemnly, rubbing her cheek against the soft leather and felt the pocket button underneath. “He said that finally he couldn’t stand the guilt so he filled his life with material things and working too hard to blot it out.”
Marc made a sound of encouragement. Trudy and Amigo were playing tug-of-war with the stick.
“He had a heart attack earlier this year and that’s what made him stop and think.” Rosa stopped and looked up at Marc. His cheeks were red from the cold. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him.
Marc held her close, resting his head on the top of her hair. “Man, a heart attack will do it all right.”
“Anyway, I think Dr. Fleming’s sincere. He wants to be a help to Johnny and wants to have a relationship with him as his grandfather.” In the distance, someone was calling a child home.
“That’s good.” Marc released her, but tucked her under his arm. “It sounds like he finally knows what life is about.”
Rosa increased the pressure of her arm around him. “I think I like him. I never thought I’d say that.”
“Has he taken that guilt up with God?” Marc asked, leading her as they followed the dogs.
“I don’t know, but I think I’ll ask him that—when the time is right.” Rosa and Marc reached the dogs that had dropped the stick to chase a squirrel up a tree.
“‘Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened,’” Marc recited the well known verse, “‘and I will give you rest.’”
The words soothed the last of Rosa’s nerves over what had happened yesterday. “We must not forget that,” she murmured. Hand in hand, they walked in silence for a few moments. The dogs now following them.
Marc cleared his throat. “I also think that I’ve discovered something I hadn’t known before.”
“What’s that?” Rosa cupped his chin with her red-mittened hand.
“I really have enjoyed working with Johnny’s soccer team. I’m thinking that I might go into teaching instead of law enforcement. Do you think I would make a good teacher?” Marc asked.
“You would make an outstanding teacher,” Rosa said with a burst of confidence. She even did a little hop and skip.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” Marc said in a stern voice.
“I didn’t? What was the question?” she asked, looking up at him, grinning, knowing.
He stopped and let the dogs snuffle around them. “I’ve been afraid of loving you, Rosa. But no more. Please be my wife. I can face anything, be anything with God, Johnny and you at my side.”
A gust of wind blew, unleashing the last few red and yellow maple leaves that cascaded down over them like a blessing. Rosa stood on tiptoe again to kiss him. “Estoy enamorada de ti. I love you. I will be your wife.”
Chapter Twelve
The weeks since Rosa had accepted Marc’s proposal had flowed by fast and filled with laughter. They had eaten Thanksgiving at Bud and Tracy’s. The six Chamberses, Jill and her dad and then Rosa’s family sitting around the long dining room table made by Naomi’s late husband. The heady fragrances of sage, nutmeg and cinnamon had filled the house. It had been just the kind of Thanksgiving Rosa had always dreamed of. At the end of the meal in the brisk November afternoon, Rosa had helped put up Naomi’s life size nativity scene, much to Johnny’s delight.
Then Marc had taken her to a large shed behind the garage and showed her the new dark walnut drop leaf table he had made for her—for their new house. She’d ran her palm over the polished-smooth dark wood. And he had dropped to one knee and given her a lovely engagement ring.
Floating, Rosa felt as if she were living a dream. But this was all real, all her life now. And a life free from guilt.
Today, the second Saturday after Thanksgiving, they wandered in the local Christmas tree farm, Guthrie’s, in search of a Christmas tree. Amigo, Trudy and Johnny bounded ahead through the maze of trees. Rosa and Marc strolled hand in hand, his leather gloves holding her red mittens. Just happy to be alive, to be together. The below freezing temperature drew them closer to each other together, their breath white on the air.
Rosa lifted her face in silent invitation and Marc was quick to steal a kiss. His lips were warm on hers and suddenly her nose tingled cold. She laughed out loud.
“Are my kisses funny now?” Marc asked in a gruff voice.
“Never. Just pure joy.” I love you.
He bent and rubbed noses with her giving her an Eskimo kiss or what Rosa’s mother always called an Eskimo kiss. “I love you.”
“I found it!” Johnny called, bouncing up and down. “I found the one I want!” The dogs joined in, barking and leaping with excitement.
Marc tugged Rosa’s hand and they caught up with Johnny. Marc stopped to study the tree, a full white spruce. He walked around it and measured it against his own height. “I think you found just the right one, Johnny. This will fit in the great room and it doesn’t have a bad side. Well done.”
He and Johnny shared a high five. Then Marc lay down on his side on a thick bed of pine needles and light dusting of snow. With saw in hand, he began cutting the trunk near the ground. When the tree wobbled, he stood, snapped it free and then dragged it behind him through the shallow early snow. Straight to the eighty-something tree farmer where he waited, keeping warm by a fire in a burn barrel. For her front door, Rosa also picked out a wreath from Guthrie’s selection, hanging on an old fence.
As the Guthrie teens hefted the tree into Marc’s pickup, the old man winked at Marc whom he’d known all his life. “See you finally picked out a good one.”
Marc laughed out loud and pulled Rosa into a one-arm hug. “You got t
hat right, Mr. Guthrie.” Soon the three of them plus dogs were in the pickup on the way home, singing and barking, “Jingle Bells.”
When they reached Rosa’s house, they found the now familiar furniture store delivery truck parked at her curb. She turned to look at Marc. Her eyebrows lifted in silent question.
He shook his head and raised his hands saying wordlessly he had nothing to do with this.
The delivery man stood on the side stoop, speaking to Consuela who’d put a red hand-knit shawl around her shoulders. He turned to Rosa as she hurried to him.
“What’s going on?” she asked breathlessly. “Another anonymous gift?”
“No, this one isn’t anonymous.” The delivery man, who still needed a shave, sounded put upon. “It’s from Dr. Fleming and the invoice says to say Merry Christmas early.”
Shivering, Consuela withdrew inside and shut the door. Rosa stood at the bottom of the steps, trying to make sense of this. Trent’s father? Every week since the night they’d talked at the hospital, he had come to visit Johnny. She was just pulling out her cell phone to call him when she saw his white BMW pull up at the curb.
She put her cell phone away and waited for him to reach her. But Johnny intercepted him momentarily to call his attention to the Christmas tree. Dr. Fleming paused to give it his approval and kiss Johnny’s forehead.
“Rosa, I wanted to be here in case you didn’t like the furniture I picked out for you,” Dr. Fleming said.
“I just got here. What did you buy for us?” Rosa asked, undecided about accepting this. Dr. Fleming had already discussed with her Christmas presents for Johnny and she had been forced to curb his generosity.
“Come to the truck, lady,” the long-suffering driver said, rolling his eyes as if to say this house was always a problem. “I got a schedule, you know.”
Rosa hurried after him and walked up the ramp into the truck where she saw the tan tweed sofa and two complementary chairs, and a carved wood floor lamp. “Oh, I love them.”
Dr. Fleming beamed at her from the street. “You mean it? I tried to choose something neutral that would wear well. The fabric is the kind that repels spills and dog hair.” He chuckled. “And it will go with the loveseat you have.”