Chapter 2

“It’s starting to get warm out there,” said Maria as she arrived for their appointment, early as usual.

“My dear, I’m a Yooper, our ideas of getting warm out there are probably two different things,” said Steve as he helped her out of her “iron maidens” as she called her leg braces.

“Water dripping from the icicles,” said Maria. “That’s what getting warm always meant to me.”

“That’s a good indicator, I didn’t realize that it gets very cold on Long Island.”

“It doesn’t. It snows maybe twice a year, it’s just that all the networks are in New York City so if it snows it becomes news. Imagine if the networks were all based in Minneapolis.”

Getting serious for a moment, Steve sat on a roll-away stool and, looking at her chart, he said, “Maria, what is your number one goal?”

Maria’s beautiful, soulful eyes softened, and she smiled gently. “I want to dance at my granddaughter’s wedding.”

Sudden terror overtook Steve. He will do everything he could to help a patient achieve their goals, but if her granddaughter is engaged, there’s no way Steve could get this beautiful woman ready in time to stand, let alone dance without her crutches. Even if they... “Steve? Is there a problem?” Maria asked, breaking through his wall of worry.

“How old is your granddaughter?”

“She just turned six.”

Relief washed over Steve as he said, “Ok, so we have a little time to prepare, let’s get going,” and thus began a provider/patient relationship that many healthcare professionals dream about having. They would meet twice a week, every Tuesday and Thursday. At one appointment, Steve mentioned he has rarely had Italian food other than infrequent visits to the Olive Garden or the occasional pizza parlor.

“That’s not Italian!” cried Maria. “That’s Italian flavored meat loaf with noodles!” She would then describe her favorite Italian dishes and how she learned to make them, which drove Steve mad with hunger. It all sounded so good.

“So where are we today?” asked Steve as Maria lay on her back, and he flexed her stiff legs.

“Pasta carbonara,” grinned Maria. “I take three eggs, a cup of parmigiano reggiano, a half a pound of Pancetta...” she went on and on about her Italian recipes; simple, classic dishes that she loved to make but no longer could because there was no one there to cook for.

“Ok, ok, Maria stop, you’re killing me. I’ll come by and you can make a meal for me but only if I can repay the favor somehow.”

“Fine. Have it your way. You come by Saturday and bring your bathing trunks...” a grin spread over her face, “I need a good pool boy.”

Steve found that Maria’s neighborhood wasn’t far from his apartment. It was a nice quiet neighborhood built long ago in an area that was once all grapefruit groves. After a few blights and an enormous increase in the cost of farm labor, the owner of the groves went into real estate. Although pines and palms were the kings, the neighborhood was also populated with sycamore, weeping willow, southern live oak and many other types of shade trees. Riomar was a great neighborhood, close to Vero Beach, on the island side of the Indian River, which paralleled the ocean and created the barrier islands. They had beach in either direction, which Steve loved.

Nervous as a schoolboy, he stood at the door, shifting from foot to foot. Somehow, he had expected her to live in a gated community with guards, fountains, and chrome wheeled golf carts buzzing about, not in what he considered being Real America. He found himself in front of a medium size three-bedroom ranch dwelling next to a manicured, tree shaded open lot. Finally, he rang the bell and a call from within said, “Come in! The door is open!” Entering, he found an immaculate living room which, other than two curious cockatiels, looked like it had never been lived in. Then, behind that, was a kitchen and dining room, which looked like Maria’s primary abode.

He stepped into the kitchen and raised his gift and Maria’s heartwarming smile broke into a cry of “Two bottles of wine! Are you trying to take advantage of me?”

“Well ... I...”

“As Virgil once wrote, beware of Yoopers bearing gifts.”

“I think that was Greeks.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Maria as she kissed his cheek, “Greeks never even heard of Yoopers. Come here, let me show you the pool,” and she led him through the kitchen where she and Darlene were preparing dinner. Maria introduced Steve and Darlene to each other and showed off her kitchen. Everything was so neat and orderly as she readied herself to prepare dinner. It looked like she was going to film a cooking show. “Right through here!”

She led him outside to a nice, shaded patio with a grill and a sink built into what looked like a coral wall with a large refrigerator nearby. Wine glasses hung over the sink and there were plenty of cabinets. The pool was kidney-shaped with a seating shelf inside the pool all around the sides except for the deep end, which had a rock feature wall with some sad-looking plants growing on it.

Pointing to a storage area, Maria said, “All the equipment and chemicals are here. There are refreshments in the fridge, and I’ll be right here in the kitchen if you need me.” Maria crutched back into the kitchen and began to make her late husband’s favorite, chicken scallopine. First came the slicing, she sliced every mushroom perfectly. She will not trust her scallopine to a machine cut mushroom. She’s making dinner for a man, not warming a hot pocket for a teenager.

As she worked, she could see Steve through the window working on the pool. He disappeared while she was pounding the chicken breasts to their proper thickness, but he soon reappeared as she dipped the chicken breasts into milk, coated them with flower, and pan fried them golden brown and delicious. When finished with that, she again turned to the enormous windows and saw Steve in the pool with a scrub brush scrubbing the “bathtub ring” from the water edge tiles. She also heard water running. He was adding water to the pool.

She crutched her way out to the pool deck and said, “you’re adding water?”

Steve looked up at her and said, “If we raise the water level up about three more inches it will make it easier for you to get in and out of the pool.”

“Oh, I don’t swim,” she insisted, “this is for the girls and the grandkids,” but Steve just smiled and went back to scrubbing, and Maria went back into the kitchen. She peeked out one other time, and he wasn’t around. “Steve?” she called, but he was nowhere to be seen until she looked into the pool and there he was at the bottom of the deep end. Before she could scream, he rose to the surface wearing a dive mask and snorkel and bringing up a hand full of leaves that were stuck in various drains.

Seeing the look on her face, he said, “Did I scare you? I’m sorry, I should have warned you that I dive when I’m working on pools.”

“You really are a pool boy?”

“Pools and gardens,” he said with a nod and a smile. “It’s how I worked my way through the University of Florida.”

The look of relief and joy that washed over her face was priceless as Steve took a deep breath and went down to finish cleaning out the intake drain.

Later that evening, the dinner Maria served was spectacular! Steve had never had chicken scallopine, chicken cutlets on homemade linguini with a spectacular mushroom sauce. “Oh God, that was a feast!” Maria just smiled as Steve wolfed down his dinner. It was so good to cook for an appreciative audience. “Where did you get these noodles!” gushed Steve. “They are delicious!”

“I didn’t get them, I made them.”

“You made them?” Steve sounded shocked that she made the noodles. “You have to show me how you make noodles.”

“You’ve never had homemade noodles?”

“Never, I’ve heard of noodle making machines and always wanted to try though.”

“I’m sure that I can teach you,” smiled Maria as dinner drew near to a close.

They cleaned up and Maria made a plate for Steve to take home, then she disappeared into her bedroom and changed into her swimsuit while Steve carried their wine and glasses out to the patio. “I can’t wait to see what you did with the pool,” she said as she crutched out to the patio. The sun had set, but the heat of the day was still on them. “I love this time of day,” she sighed as Steve set up deck chairs near the edge of the pool. “It’s nice and hot but the sun isn’t blazing.”

“Ok, check this out,” said Steve as he went to a switch panel. The underwater lights came on, then the feature wall started gurgling, then a waterfall splashed into the pool. Lights hidden in the rock work illuminated the trickling water that splashed from one tiny pool to the next and finally into the swimming pool. There were plants, they were her favorites: orchids! There were orchids growing in the nooks and crannies of the feature wall. It had been so long since those lights worked that she forgot they were there.

“How wonderful! What did you do to it? And the plants! Where did you get them?”

“I just cleaned a few electrical connections and fixed a broken hose; the plants all came from your neighbor’s garden.”

“You stole plants from a neighbor’s garden?” she was laughing now.

“They were growing over your fence. Stolen plants grow the best, everyone knows that, including Mrs. Weberman.”

“My neighbor Mrs. Weberman?”