The Caretaker

The Caretaker

The middle aged pleasant faced man held his wife’s hand tightly as they walked through the doors of the huge cancer hospital complex. As their feet touched the sidewalk, they smiled at each other with delight.
"Free at last,” she whispered.
“Just a block to the car, my Love, and we will be on our way home.”

The car purred softly as they headed up FDR Drive toward the George Washington Bridge. They drove in silence lost in their own thoughts. He praying that the little more than an hour trip would go smoothly and that soon he would have her in their own room and they would be at peace. She also prayed silently that her face would not show the increasingly excruciating pain, as the next medication wasn't due for an hour or more. Mentally she ticked off the miles, "only about thirty now, I can stand it, then home, a pill and blessed sleep.”

They both felt the uneven bump of the car at the same time. He knew immediately it was a flat tire.
“Sorry, Love”, he said.
She tried not to look frightened. Here they were on one of the most traveled roads in the world; cars and huge trucks whizzed by. There were no police cars patrolling. It was more frightening than being on a deserted road for the cars and trucks seemed to be robots waiting to devour anything that could not keep pace.

He was at a loss. He tried to settle his wife safely on the side of the road. Although she smiled and said she was fine, he could see the beads of perspiration on her face, which meant the pain was back in full force.
“Be careful Frank,” she pleaded, as he removed the jack from the trunk of the car. He walked over to the flat tire with uncertainty, hoping there might be a Good Samaritan somewhere on this route of rushing humanity.

When the weakness overcame him, it seemed as though he were literally frozen. Weeks of keeping up with his sales clients, visiting his wife nightly, talking and listening to doctors, worrying about the bills, praying, it seemed there was no end. His wife’s soft sob bought him back to reality. They looked at each other helplessly and suddenly beside them stood a young man smiling. He was a Latino man with a gentle face.
“I will fix the tire,” he said simply.
“No, no,” the older man protested as he tried to pull himself together,… “If you could just help me with the lug nuts, I’m a bit nervous, my wife is…”
“I know,” said the Latino man, “keep her safe.” He worked surely and swiftly. It seemed almost magical. Soon he was placing the jack in the trunk and closing it.

The man helping his wife to her feet said, “Thank you so very much let me…” The Young Man smiled and shook his head as he walked to his yellow Volkswagon. Then he waved his hand as if in benediction. The man and his wife followed his small car out into the traffic.
“It seemed like a miracle,” the wife said as she touched her husband’s arm.
“It was a miracle, Love,” the man answered. The yellow bug had disappeared. God was with them or one of His special ones. It didn’t matter; the gift was offered and accepted as so many other gifts had been given during this challenging time. They had learned to trust Him for every need.


As they passed each exit sign, Hackensack, Nutley, Paterson their spirits rose for each exit brought them closer to the home she had left almost two months ago, wondering if she would ever return. Then at last they were turning onto the ramp at their exit and soon were again turning on to their own tree lined street, and finally into the driveway.

The woman would not have traded the brown cape-cod house, nestled in its pine tree setting, for the largest mansion in the world. They entered the house almost gleefully; the living room was warm and cozy with its mauve and white wallpaper, globe lamps and the cranberry glass collection.
“Color”, she exclaimed, how I’ve missed color”.

The next stop was the kitchen, where he put the kettle on and she reveled at the sight of her own pots and pans, dishes and her extra large stove where she could create her own special recipes and delicacies for her family. It seemed as though everything was a gift as indeed it was.

"Enough excitement for today, Frank said, freshen up and then into the bed that has been waiting your return”.
“It does sound tempting”, she admitted.

The bedroom lamp was soft and welcoming. Again the woman thrilled to see her own possessions; the bed, the soft pillows, and beautiful quilt, the bookcase, with its treasured books. She was in her fluffy warm robe with a steaming hot cup of tea on her bedside table. As she snuggled down into the pillows she was overcome with thankfulness for the constant feelings of divine presence that had been with her on this fearful journey and led her back to this beloved place.

The man entered the room and tucked the quilt around her lovingly. He had put on his familiar blue plaid robe. He closed the drapes and lay down beside her. He took her hand and kissed it. They were together in their own little world, and they slept.