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Yuletide Redemption
Jill Kemerer
A Mother’s Christmas WishAfter an accident leaves Celeste Monroe to raise her baby nephew, all she wants is to provide one-year old Parker with a happy life. She hopes taking a job caring for an injured Sam Sheffield will help fulfill that goal. But Sam’s determination to avoid the world throws a wrench in her plans. Despite his best efforts, Sam can't take his eyes off the pretty caretaker. Her strength and loving nature has him falling for her—and her baby. But he refuses to burden them with a man who’s not whole. Can Celeste convince Sam he's daddy—and husband—material in time for them to celebrate Christmas together?


A Mother’s Christmas Wish
After an accident leaves Celeste Monroe to raise her baby nephew, all she wants is to provide one-year-old Parker with a happy life. She hopes taking a job caring for injured Sam Sheffield will help fulfill that goal. But Sam’s determination to avoid the world throws a wrench in her plans. Despite his best efforts, Sam can’t take his eyes off the pretty caretaker. Her strength and her loving nature has him falling for her—and her baby. But he refuses to burden them with a man who’s not whole. Can Celeste convince Sam he’s daddy—and husband—material in time for them to celebrate Christmas together?
“What am I going to do with all this?”
Sam leaned against the kitchen counter and shook his head in amazement at the plastic bins full of sugar cookies, bowls of frosting in pastel colors and every type of sprinkle imaginable.
As much as he wanted to spend the day decorating cookies with Celeste and Parker, he knew it wasn’t wise. He had to stop thinking about himself and start thinking about what was best for her. Which wasn’t him. She needed a guy who could be there for her in ways he couldn’t. He would not be another burden on her.
“Why don’t you change, and I’ll get everything ready?” Her clear brown eyes held no questions or concerns. Just anticipation.
When he’d changed, he paused a moment in the doorway. Celeste had laid the cookies out on wax paper. Parker was strapped into his portable booster seat. He nibbled on one cookie and banged another against the table. She was spooning the icing into those plastic bags. The Christmas tree twinkled beside them.
What had been an empty cottage had become a warm, inviting home.
What would it hurt if he simply enjoyed being with them today?
Dear Reader (#u82386589-a981-5d5f-8615-4414f5bfc6a0),
When I started writing the Lake Endwell series, Sam Sheffield was a charming guy who embraced a challenge and loved his family. But a boating accident in Her Small-Town Romance changed him. His near-death experience and ongoing physical pain and disabilities robbed him of his joy and hope. Spending time with Celeste and Parker showed him he can have a full life again, one with the blessings of a wife and family. Best of all, he finally came to terms with the fact that God loves him and has been with him all this time.
I don’t know if I would be as resilient as Sam or Celeste after what they’d been through in their accidents, but I hope I would cling to my faith. God will see us through our hard times. He loves us with a love so big it can’t be contained. No matter what problems we face, we have a God who cares. This Christmas season, I encourage you to reflect on one of my favorite Bible passages, Philippians 4:7 (NIV): “And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”
I love connecting with readers. Please stop by my website, www.jillkemerer.com (http://www.jillkemerer.com), and email me at jill@jillkemerer.com.
God bless you!
Jill Kemerer
JILL KEMERER rites novels with love, humor and faith. Besides spoiling her mini dachshund and keeping up with her busy kids, Jill reads stacks of books, lives for her morning coffee and gushes over fluffy animals. She resides in Ohio with her husband and two children. Jill loves connecting with readers, so please visit her website, jillkemerer.com (http://www.jillkemerer.com), or contact her at PO Box 2802, Whitehouse, OH 43571.
Yuletide Redemption
Jill Kemerer


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
But He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me.
—2 Corinthians 12:9
To my dad, Ron Devereaux.
You always make me smile.
To my mom, Jean Devereaux.
I want to be just like you when I grow up.
To my father-in-law, Leo Kernstock.
You always treat me like your daughter.
To my mother-in-law, Sharon Kernstock.
You bless me in a million ways.
To all those with scars inside or out—
you’re loved. Merry Christmas!
Special thanks to Rachel Kent and Shana Asaro
for making this book shine.
Contents
Cover (#u10d20d9e-18b1-5146-b107-463c6cc16e0c)
Back Cover Text (#uc35e663f-d302-5a8f-bb8b-141ca670c936)
Introduction (#u8595a8dc-7c80-5a78-bfd7-ae44287c3466)
Dear Reader (#u8c974391-089c-56e6-888e-e0384ce76fe1)
About the Author (#u75ea7632-1e62-53cc-9a5a-bc6b15aa74fc)
Title Page (#u8e9b57cc-bb22-5550-8d38-b05f664a824a)
Bible Verse (#u4ab38e23-e52f-5d89-ab96-2569899b5c65)
Dedication (#u8e663b64-fdd9-5cd1-b73b-184712bc2902)
Chapter One (#ua515b09d-2a82-526b-bbe8-e66f51b31712)
Chapter Two (#u43272d67-ebaf-5e76-8c1b-49369d2f2baf)
Chapter Three (#u16fb6307-5685-5ec7-89f3-e4b5942b6922)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One (#u82386589-a981-5d5f-8615-4414f5bfc6a0)
Sam Sheffield curled his fingers around the wheelchair’s hand rims and, for the first time in months, tried to fight his bitterness rather than lingering in self-pity. His prayers had gone unanswered, but his family was right. He had to accept his limitations and move forward.
But how?
The bank of windows showcased maize leaves drifting to the deck. Sunshine glinted off the blue waters of Michigan’s Lake Endwell. A stunning day in late October. He still loved the lake. At least the accident hadn’t taken that. Too much had been stripped away almost a year and a half ago, though. He’d yet to step foot in his auto dealership. Couldn’t imagine running the business from a wheelchair.
A knock on the door made him flinch. It must be the woman his sister had mentioned last night. Claire had advised him in her gentle-but-firm tone to be on his best behavior, that Celeste needed a new start. What Claire hadn’t said had come through clearly—his family was tired of doing everything for him. It was bad enough Claire had hired a caregiver without his permission, but the bomb his brothers had thrown out yesterday? Turned his blood to ice. He wouldn’t think about it. Not now, anyway.
Sam rolled across the hardwood floor. He had no need for a caregiver or personal assistant or whatever his sister wanted to call her. Sure, Claire claimed it was the only way Celeste would stay in the cabin next door for free. But whatever had happened to this girl couldn’t compare to what he was going through.
Leaning forward, he winced at the tremors in his leg and opened the door. A willowy brunette stood before him, and Sam moved back for her to enter. With her face shadowed by long dark hair, she took a few tentative steps his way. He held out his hand. “Sam Sheffield.”
“Celeste Monroe.” Her grasp, like her entry, was elusive, as if she wanted to be as invisible as possible.
He tried to catch a glimpse of her face, but her tucked chin and curtain of hair didn’t give him much to work with. Spinning the wheels around, he headed to the oak table. “Have a seat.”
She obeyed, not bothering to look his way.
“I saw the moving truck earlier.” He splayed his fingers on the smooth wood. “I take it Claire’s cabin is working out for you?”
“It’s perfect.” Celeste pushed her hair behind her ear. Deep brown eyes, nervous, glanced at him.
His breath caught in his throat. She’s beautiful. “I’m glad you like it.”
She smiled, revealing slightly misaligned teeth. Only then did he notice the scars. Jagged silver lines crisscrossed her left cheek and forehead, and one slashed her chin. They in no way detracted from her unusual beauty, and he was tempted to stare, to memorize her face. She bobbed her head, her shiny hair slipping back into position.
A volley of questions flew around in his mind. How had she gotten the scars? Why did she need a new start? What had Claire left out? But the puzzle kept coming back to those eyes—they’d touched a part of him that had been buried since the accident.
He forced his attraction deep down, unreachable. What woman would want a man who couldn’t do the most basic life tasks for himself? He couldn’t protect her. He could barely take care of himself.
“How do you know Claire?” he asked.
“I don’t. Not really. She works at the zoo with my mom’s best friend, Nancy, who told your sister about my accident. A few weeks ago Nancy put the word out that I was looking for a cheap apartment. Claire said she had the perfect solution. Basically, I get to stay in her cabin for free if I help you out.”
His meddling sister. He wasn’t angry, though. Claire couldn’t help worrying about him any more than she could control her urge to help Celeste by letting her stay in the cabin.
“You mentioned an accident,” he said. “What happened to you?”
“Car accident.” The words tumbled out. “My face took the brunt of it. The first five weeks were a blur in the hospital followed by a month in the rehab center. When they released me, I was in no shape to take care of myself. I ended up moving back in with my parents.”
“How long were you out of work?”
“I never went back. Until this summer, some issues prevented me from working full-time, and my boss hired someone else anyhow. But I’m working again. Self-employed. Virtual assistant. I’m hoping to take on more clients now that I’ll have my own place.”
“The cabin’s been empty since June,” Sam said gruffly. An accident had ripped her life apart, too. And she didn’t look much older than his twenty-seven years. “Claire and her husband moved into a new house. She hasn’t had the heart to sell it. I hope she cleaned it for you.”
“She did.” Celeste cast a sideways peek his way. “You didn’t know, did you?”
“Know what?” He itched to return to the windows, to stare past the deck and lawn out to the lake, to let the peaceful view soothe the commotion stirring inside him. Did Celeste mean he didn’t know about Claire’s arrangement with her? Or something else?
“My face.”
The scars. If he wasn’t so focused on himself, he would have put it together. It explained the fragile air about her. “Why would that matter?”
“It matters to most people,” she said so softly he barely heard her.
Wanting to put her at ease, he lifted his shirt to reveal the right side of his abdomen. He had his own scars, except they’d faded to a dull red. They lashed up and down the length of his torso. “I guess we’re even, then.”
Her eyes widened, and a breathy “oh” escaped her mouth. “I’m sorry.” The way her eyebrows dipped assured him she meant it.
“They’re the least of my worries.” His physical scars didn’t bother him, but the collateral damage from the accident festered. Memories from the conversation yesterday returned with a vengeance. His brothers, Tommy and Bryan, had actually suggested he consider selling his dealership.
Sell his dream?
He balled his hands into fists. Maybe they were right. The accident had been over sixteen months ago, but he couldn’t do even simple work tasks. The first time he’d printed out a sales report, his professional goals had seemed so out of reach he’d almost thrown up. He’d printed another one since then, but within minutes he’d broken down in tears. Tears. From him, the man who never cried. But then, he wasn’t the man he used to be. He wasn’t sure he would ever be more than a broken body.
Celeste’s shoulders hunched as she picked at her fingernail. Sunlight spilled into the room, making the table glow.
“I’m glad you recovered enough to work again.” He tapped the table lightly. “I don’t know how much Claire told you, but I was in a boating accident. The propeller sliced my right side. Severed the sciatic nerve in my upper thigh. The nerve graft wasn’t completely successful.”
Just speaking those words riled him up. Why hadn’t God listened to his prayers? Half of patients like him were able to get around on two feet again. Why couldn’t he be one of them?
Well, he had been making progress. Before the slip in the shower a few months ago, he’d been walking on crutches, getting closer to graduating to a cane—working hard so he wouldn’t need a wheelchair to resume running his dealership.
Let it go. Accept it. Move forward.
“Are you dealing with any long-term issues?” Sam asked. “Beyond the scars, I mean?”
“Some nerve damage. Headaches.” Those espresso eyes met his, warming him. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
He envied her for only having headaches and scars. She had her legs. She could walk.
“When was the accident?” Sam asked.
“It will be a year on December 18.” Her attention shifted to her hands.
“The first annual Lake Endwell Christmas parade.”
“Excuse me?”
“Sorry.” Being trapped in this cottage all the time must have gotten to him. His conversation skills needed work. “The date’s stuck in my head. My aunt Sally has mentioned it about fifty times in the last month. December 18. She’s on the planning committee.”
“A parade.” Her chin lifted as she gazed ahead through the windows. He couldn’t tell if she liked or hated the idea of a parade. “A nice distraction. I’ll be honest—I’m dreading the date.”
A twinge of guilt pressed against his chest. Her accident may not have taken her legs, but it obviously had taken a lot from her, too. “I don’t blame you.”
“How did you get through yours?”
“Through clenched teeth. My family stayed with me all day.” Reminding him how much he’d lost. His brothers and sisters went on as usual while his life had been turned upside down. They either spoke in hushed tones, or they faked chipper, everything-is-fine conversations. He ignored their furtive glances and nagging for him to go back to physical therapy. After his fall in June, he’d stopped going, knowing he might never walk unassisted on both legs. The torn ACL and resulting surgery had left his right knee unstable and both legs weak.
A cane, crutches, a wheelchair—all props reminding him he’d suffered permanent damage. He would never carry a bride over the threshold. Even if a woman could see past his disability, what did he have to offer her? Not a whole lot.
“My parents will probably insist on spending the day with me, too.” Celeste rubbed her upper arm. “Your family seems nice.”
“They are nice. They just don’t get the fact I want to be alone.”
“I get it.”
She was the one person who probably did get it, and for some reason, that made him feel better.
“Yeah, well, my family is tired of me.” Sam gave her a tight smile, squaring his shoulders. “You’re the only one brave enough to be here right now.”
“I’m sure that’s not true.”
“Oh, it’s true. Ask any of them.” His family had been taking turns checking on him, cleaning, making meals, doing his laundry and anything else he needed for months. While he appreciated everything they did, he was tired of the strings attached, the incessant hints about physical therapy being at the top of his list.
Maybe they all needed a break from each other.
“Can I get you something to drink?” He wheeled away from the table in the direction of the kitchen, which was part of one wide open area along with the dining and living rooms.
“No, thank you. I’m fine.”
He opened the fridge and swiped a bottle of water. Celeste seemed quiet—easy to be around. Not too talkative or demanding. But before he let her into his world, he needed to set some boundaries. After taking a drink, he returned to the table.
“Well, we should discuss the arrangement,” he said. “Regardless of what my family thinks, I don’t need or want a nurse.”
“No one said anything to me about nursing.”
“Good. If you wouldn’t mind picking up a few groceries for me, doing some light cleaning and helping with my laundry, I think everyone will be happy.”
“Oh, no.” Celeste faced him, her brown eyes wide. Once more he was struck by her pretty features. “Claire wouldn’t be happy at all. When I talked to her a few days ago, she was quite specific.”
He squeezed the arms of the wheelchair. “What exactly did she say?”
“Physical therapy at least three times a week. I’m to drive you there and back. And...”
“And what?” He forced himself not to growl. He was going to have a long chat with his sister later.
“I’m not to take no for an answer.”
* * *
“No.”
Celeste expected the negative response, but she didn’t expect to sympathize with him. From the minute she stepped into this grand, lakefront cottage—completely wheelchair-accessible, according to Claire—she’d been fighting a losing battle. She’d agreed to be Sam’s assistant, because it felt like a God-given gift dropped in her lap. Celeste would get a rent-free home away from the whispers and all the darted looks at her disfigured face. The cabin would make it possible for her to expand her business, take on a few more clients. After all, she had other things to consider now.
She needed to convince Sam to go to physical therapy.
Sam had wheeled his chair in front of the patio door. The wall held floor-to-ceiling windows with magnificent views of mature trees, a rambling lawn and the sapphire water of the lake dancing in the sunlight. An incredible room. And the man with dark blond hair and piercing blue eyes wasn’t bad, either. The fact Sam had his own scars to heal made him less intimidating than most of the people she encountered.
Sort of.
But whether he was gorgeous or not wasn’t the issue. If she wanted to live in Claire’s cabin, she had to follow Claire’s rules. “What’s wrong with physical therapy?”
“It didn’t work.” His profile could have been etched in marble.
She thought back to what Claire told her, and something wasn’t adding up. “What do you mean?”
“All my progress was for nothing.”
“But you were making progress?”
“I’ll always need a wheelchair.” His lips drew into a thin line.
Should she continue this obviously touchy subject? If she didn’t, he might refuse physical therapy. Claire’s cabin meant a life of her own. Privacy. A reprieve from what her life had become. She couldn’t depend on her parents forever.
The plastic surgeon would reevaluate her at the follow-up appointment on December 16. Then she’d have another operation to reduce her scars. Who cared that he had already warned her he didn’t recommend further surgery? The appointment would prove him wrong. It had to.
This handsome, hurting man in front of her—the one who’d been given a crummy deal the same way she’d been—only made Celeste want her old face back more. She’d never been a supermodel, but men used to notice her and little kids didn’t ask awkward questions. She couldn’t imagine a romantic relationship in her current skin. It had been hard enough in her old one. More surgery was vital. Living here, away from unwanted attention, was, too.
She squared her shoulders. “You’re not paralyzed, correct?”
“No. Not paralyzed.” He flexed his hands. “I slipped in the shower back in June. Tore ligaments in my right knee. Had to have surgery on it.”
Her heart tightened at all he’d been through. Lord, I’m sorry for all the ways I pity myself. Please help Sam.
“Claire mentioned the possibility of using a cane.” It had been a while since she engaged in conversation this long with a stranger. She clasped her hands in her lap.
“My doctor didn’t make any promises.”
“Doctors can’t really make promises,” she said quietly. Hers certainly hadn’t. “What did yours say?”
“With enough physical therapy, I might be able to get around with a cane eventually. I’ll need a wheelchair or crutches to give my leg a break when the pain gets bad.”
“I’m sorry. I take it you can’t walk at all?”
“For short periods. With crutches.”
“That’s good.” She nodded.
“I haven’t used them much since I fell.”
“Oh. Does the doctor want you off your leg so it can heal?”
He didn’t meet her eyes, but his right shoulder lifted in a shrug. “It’s less painful this way.”
Not exactly the answer to her question. “But how will you get better if you stay in the wheelchair?”
“There’s no getting better. I won’t be able to do the things I used to do. I’ll never run, ski or slam-dunk a basketball again.”
Heat climbed her neck. It wasn’t her business. She was here to help him in exchange for the cabin. Nothing more. But she really couldn’t follow his way of thinking. He refused to go to physical therapy, but without it he’d always be in a wheelchair. Hmm...
“I don’t know much about it,” she murmured.
“I don’t want to be confined to this chair, but I can’t risk permanent damage.”
“So let me take you to physical therapy.”
“No.”
“But you just said—”
“I’d give anything to walk again. Hobbling around with a cane isn’t walking. It’s a rotten consolation prize.”
“I’m really confused. You have a chance to improve your life.” She let the rest of her thought go unspoken. But you’re too proud to see a cane as an improvement.
He jerked his head to the side. “I don’t want this life.”
And there it was.
Now Celeste understood why Claire had offered an empty cabin in exchange for help with Sam. Until this moment Celeste had worried the offer was only made out of pity. But if pity played a part, Claire’s concern for her brother was clearly the bigger factor. This man had been through so much, and he hadn’t reconciled his past to move on to the future.
“What do you want?”
He didn’t answer right away, but he sighed. “I was the CEO of Sheffield Auto, our family business. Making decisions for five auto dealerships, including one of my own. Everything was going great. Then one day I go fishing with my friend, and nothing has been the same since.”
Celeste nodded in sympathy. He’d had big goals. Unlike her. Until last December, she’d been drifting along, working for an insurance agency and living in a dinky apartment. Her degree in history had been filed away in a box, unused. Lately she’d been thinking of dusting it off to become a teacher. Be the woman she could have been.
But not with these scars. She’d be the laughingstock of the school.
“My life isn’t the same, either. I don’t think it ever will be.” She focused on a chickadee perched on the deck railing outside. Another joined it and they flew off together. Escaping. Lake Endwell was her escape.
“I haven’t figured out how to move forward.” With his elbow propped on the table, his chin rested on his fist.
“Do you still want to run your dealership? And be CEO?”
“Not from a wheelchair.”
Her gut told her this man needed physical therapy as badly as she needed more surgery on her face. But how could she convince him?
“What about returning to work with a cane? You have options.” She tipped her head. “Try physical therapy again. Claire won’t let me live in her cabin unless you do.”
“My sister?” He scoffed. “She wouldn’t kick you out.”
“She would. She’s determined to get you back to PT.”
“I’ll find you another place to stay.”
“I don’t want another place.” She didn’t know why this man was touching such a nerve in her. She could live somewhere else. But the dark circles under his eyes shot compassion through her heart. She wanted him to smile. Wanted him to have hope. And her approach clearly wasn’t working. “Look, I need this.”
“Why?”
What was the saying about desperate times and desperate measures?
“I’ll show you.” She prayed this didn’t backfire as she walked out the door.
* * *
Sam rubbed his forehead as the door clicked behind Celeste. For a soft-spoken person, she sure knew how to say things that barbed right to his soul. He wasn’t angry. Wasn’t even upset. For months he’d carried a Dumpster full of excuses on why he should give up. Why physical therapy wasn’t for him.
And for what? He kicked the table leg with his good foot. This was no way to live.
If he didn’t return to work after Christmas, there would be no work to return to. His brothers had told him they couldn’t continue to help run his dealership. They each had two of their own, and they’d given up most of their free time to keep his profitable.
He would be forced to sell the dealership. They would name a new person to step in as CEO. Succeeding in this business took a hands-on approach and a special personality—one Sam used to have.
Maybe that was the real problem. He’d lost his courage. Lost his identity. Maybe it was time to try physical therapy again. His bones ached thinking about it. Getting around in the wheelchair wasn’t ideal, but it kept him from the relentless aching and stiffness PT brought on.
Besides, his weak knee could very well cause him to fall, putting him at risk of tearing open the healing sciatic nerve. He’d fought hard to regain feeling in his foot and lower leg. Portions of it were still numb. He might not be moving forward, but at least he wasn’t in danger of a permanent setback—paralysis.
The door opened with a creak. Sam sat up straighter, not believing what he was seeing.
Celeste held a dark-haired child in her arms. The baby rubbed his eyes and let his head fall back against her shoulder. He wore little navy pants and a lime-green shirt. A diaper stuck out from the top of the elastic, and his feet were strapped into tiny running shoes.
Sam’s heartbeat paused at the picture they presented.
She had a baby.
Longing for a child of his own slammed in his gut. He closed his eyes briefly, willing the futile emotion away.
No wonder she needed a new start. It all made sense now.
Celeste padded forward. “Is it okay if I sit on the couch?”
“Of course.” He followed her to the leather couch and chairs. A sweet smile graced her face as she stroked the sleeping child’s hair from his forehead.
“This is my nephew, Parker. His mom was killed in the accident.”
Sam’s mouth dropped open. Wasn’t expecting those words. A nephew. The accident. Had Celeste’s sister been killed?
“Brandy and I were best friends ever since we sat next to each other in first grade. My big brother, Josh, started dating her after we graduated from high school. They got married four years ago—Josh was deployed off and on throughout their marriage—and then they found out about this little bundle of joy.”
“I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.” His mind reeled. Here he’d been having a pity party about his leg, not realizing Celeste had lost her best friend. Her sister-in-law.
“I am, too. It breaks my heart every day knowing Brandy and Josh are missing Parker’s life.”
“Josh? Was he in the car as well?”
She shook her head. “No. He was killed overseas a few weeks after finding out Brandy was pregnant. Roadside bomb in Afghanistan. After he died, Brandy got really depressed. She was obsessed with making up a will. Of course I agreed to be Parker’s guardian, although I thought she was a little too intense about it. But here I am. Raising Parker. Permanently.”
He could barely take it in. “So your brother never got to see his baby?”
Celeste kissed Parker’s head. He slept soundly on her lap, his cheek still resting on her shoulder. “No, and it breaks my heart. I wish he could have. He would have loved his baby. I miss him.”
“Don’t you have family who could raise him?” He couldn’t imagine taking on such a big responsibility so soon after an accident.
“I want to raise him. I promised Brandy. My brother and I were close, and I consider it an honor. Besides, my parents both work full-time. They’re getting older, and they don’t have the energy I have.”
Sam hesitated. “Why is it so important for you to live in Claire’s cabin? Why here?”
Her pretty brown eyes dimmed. “I need to create a life of my own.” She wrapped her arms tightly around Parker. “I guess I need some time away from it all. Losing my brother and my best friend. Getting used to this face. It’s hard when people see the new me but mourn the old me with their eyes.”
He understood what she was saying. It was why he hadn’t left the cottage in a long time. People expected to see the Sam with a quick joke who could stand tall and play volleyball at a picnic. Seeing him in a wheelchair made them uncomfortable. Or maybe it made him uncomfortable. Maybe both.
“Yes, that’s a good way to put it,” Sam said. “I guess neither of us got what we wanted out of life.”
“I guess not.” She tugged Parker’s shirt down over his back. “But I’m going to be the best parent Parker could have in this situation. I’m going to make sure he knows everything about his mommy and daddy. Brandy would have done the same for me. And Josh—well, I’d do anything for him.”
Sam thought of his four siblings. He’d do anything for them, too.
He’d been selfish. It was time to start thinking about someone other than himself. He had an opportunity to help Celeste. And the baby in her arms.
“Okay, I’ll go to physical therapy.”
“Really?” Celeste blinked, then beamed.
Man, she was pretty. “Yeah.”
“Good. I hope you don’t mind Parker riding with us. I’m kind of all he has.”
“I like kids.” The desire for one of his own hit him again. “How old is he, anyway?”
“Just turned a year. He’s almost walking. Claire told me there are plenty of babysitters she can recommend if you don’t want him underfoot when I’m cleaning or helping you.”
“Save your money. He’s welcome anytime. It will be easier for all of us. Why don’t you give me your phone number, get settled next door and come back in a few days. We’ll work out a schedule then.”
Celeste stood, jostling Parker, and rattled off her cell phone number. He typed it into his phone. She carried the baby to the door. “Sam?”
“What?” He followed her, waiting as she stood in the open doorway.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
A blush rose up to her cheeks. “For understanding.”
Once she left, he stared at the closed door for a long time. If she had the courage to raise a little boy and continue with her life after being in a terrible accident and losing her best friend, maybe he could find it in himself to try again.
Because he didn’t want to spend the rest of his days in a wheelchair.
Chapter Two (#u82386589-a981-5d5f-8615-4414f5bfc6a0)
“Well, that was unexpected.” Celeste breezed past her mother through the hall to lower Parker, still sleeping, into the portable crib she’d set up in the second bedroom. Their new home. Her first step of independence in a long time. How she wished she could call Brandy and tell her every last detail about Sam and the cabin and... She choked down the lump forming in her throat. Brandy was gone, and Celeste was to blame. Living without her best friend didn’t get easier. She suspected it never would.
For now, though, she needed to get the house in order. Start fresh. Put the past year behind her.
After kissing her fingers and pressing them against Parker’s forehead, she returned to the living room, dodging a pair of burly guys who carried boxes to the kitchen.
“It didn’t go well?” Her mom cleaned the inside of a cupboard with a disinfectant wipe.
In black yoga pants and a hot-pink sweatshirt, Shelly Monroe looked younger than fifty-five, but then, she’d always been a believer in drugstore hair color, mascara and fuchsia lipstick.
“Was he unfriendly or something?” Mom sat on the recliner, which was swathed in clear plastic, as Celeste collapsed on the matching couch.
“No. He was...” Celeste didn’t know how to describe him. Wasn’t sure what her impression was yet. The only thing she knew for certain? She anticipated seeing him again. “Well, for one, he’s really good-looking.”
“Ooh.” Mom’s face lit up. She pretended to lick her index finger and made an imaginary mark in the air. “A point in his favor. Bonus. What else?”
“He’s in a wheelchair, but he’s not paralyzed.” Celeste twisted her hair back and secured it with an elastic band. “But it sounds as though physical therapy won’t cure him, at least not entirely. I think he’s been depressed. You know how it is.”
“I do.” Mom’s brown eyes filled with sympathy. “You’ll be good for him.”
“We’ll see.” She shrugged. “I got him to agree to physical therapy, so I don’t have to worry about losing this place.”
“His family will be relieved. And it will get you out more, which makes me relieved.”
Celeste didn’t respond. How could she admit she only planned on driving him to and from the rehab center? She wasn’t stepping foot in the place—or any place, for that matter. All the shopping Sam needed she’d do as early as possible to avoid people staring at her.
“I know that look.” Mom drew her eyebrows together, pursing her lips. “I’m still not thrilled about you moving here, but since you have, I hope you’ll try harder to get out and about. Your scars have faded so much. You don’t need to be self-conscious.”
She wanted to yell, “You go out there with slashes across your face and tell me I don’t need to be self-conscious. You don’t know!” but she held her tongue. She loved her parents. She’d probably say the same thing if she were in their shoes. “I’ll try.”
Mom reached over and patted her knee. “I know it’s hard on you. I hope you’ll go to the church Claire mentioned. It might help.”
“I have my Bible, Mom. I pray. I’m closer to Him than ever.”
“I know. It’s just...well, studying on your own isn’t the same as having fellowship with other believers.”
Not this again. “One thing at a time, okay?” Celeste missed going to church. Another reason she desperately wanted more plastic surgery. Maybe next year would bring the new life she craved. The one where she could go out in public without feeling like an exotic creature at the zoo.
Sam’s pinched face came to mind when she’d asked him about his injury. She couldn’t really blame him for being upset at the way his life had turned out. If he’d never be able to walk on his own and do all the things he must have loved, why would he be excited to go through the hard work of physical therapy?
Both of their lives were on hold. And they had taken a far different turn from what either of them had expected. She got it. She did. She felt a special bond with him because of it. Had he felt it, too?
“Does Sam have a girlfriend?”
“I don’t know.” And she wasn’t going to find out. Between her disfigurement and her nephew, she couldn’t imagine dating anyone. Especially not the cute guy next door. She lacked flirting skills, anyhow. The feminine gifts women seemed to be born with had escaped her. Too often, she was tongue-tied and awkward on a date. No, she didn’t see a boyfriend in her future. But, hypothetically, if she did picture one, he looked exactly like Sam Sheffield. “I’m here to help him out. Nothing more.”
“You never know,” Mom said in a lilting voice. The set of her chin meant she was ready to dig into the topic.
“I do know.” Celeste stood and began peeling the plastic off the couch. “Dating, romance—I can’t deal with any of that right now. I have enough on my plate as it is.”
“When the right guy comes along, you’ll be ready.” Mom helped her yank the plastic off. “Maybe he’s next door.”
She fought the urge to roll her eyes, even if the idea made her heart beat faster. “I’m his personal assistant, driver, shopper—whatever he needs. That’s it. In the meantime, I need to get at least two more clients for my virtual assistant business.”
Her mother made a face, so Celeste jumped in before she could speak. “And I’ve decided to look into teaching history.”
“Really?” Her mom’s eyes widened, looking suspiciously moist. “That’s wonderful!”
“But first I’m waiting to see what Dr. Smith says.”
Mom clamped her mouth shut, arching her eyebrows. “He’s already told you. You need to let it go.”
She pivoted and marched to the kitchen, shoving the wad of plastic in the trash before returning. “And everything I’ve read said to wait twelve months, get reevaluated and make decisions then. My condition might change.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
“It will.”
“Celeste—”
“Let’s drop it.”
“I don’t want you getting your hopes up only to be devastated.” She stepped forward and cupped Celeste’s chin with both hands. “You’re beautiful.”
Celeste jerked away. Beautiful? Only a mother could say that.
She had a mirror. She was not beautiful.
Mom continued. “Josh’s benefits should be enough to cover your basic expenses, especially since you don’t have to pay rent. Dad and I have your medical bills almost paid off, so don’t worry about money.”
Celeste hugged her mom. “Thank you.”
“You don’t have to thank us. We’re blessed your insurance covered as much as it did.”
“But still... I want to pay you back.”
Mom shook her head and patted Celeste’s cheek. “Dad and I can afford it. We both have good jobs. You worry about yourself and the baby.”
When she had enough clients to support herself, she planned on setting aside money for Parker’s college fund. In the meantime, she’d research what it would take to get certified as a teacher.
Mom pushed up her sleeves. “It might take Parker some time to get used to this change, too.”
“Yeah, I know.” She was new at this parenting thing. She’d been caring for Parker while living with her parents, but they’d helped her when they got home from work. Would she be able to do this all by herself?
“We’re only half an hour away. Call if you need anything. Dad and I will come by a few nights a week, and we’ll take him anytime you need a break.”
The sliding door leading to the deck opened, and her father, Bill Monroe, stepped inside. “Is your mother giving you a hard time?” He kissed the top of Celeste’s head and squeezed her arm. “You doing okay, kiddo?”
The tension in her neck dissolved. Dad had always been her champion, the one she ran to when life got her down. Since Josh’s death and the accident, worry lines had dug deep around his eyes, but his tall, trim figure and thick gray hair still gave him a vital appearance.
“I’m fine, Dad. Just got back from Sam’s. He’s the first person I’ve met in a long time who has as many, if not more, problems than me.”
“I’m sorry to hear he’s struggling. Sounds like he needs your help.”
“Thanks, Dad.” She wiggled one arm around his waist and leaned her head against him.
“Nice yard you’ve got back there. You’ll have to watch Parker with the ornamental pond, though. It’s wider and deeper than it looks. It only takes a few inches for a child to drown.”
“Do you think we could fence it off?”
“We have to do something. I’ll run over to the hardware store.” He patted his back pocket to check for his wallet, then pulled out his keys. “Be back in a few.”
Mom returned to the kitchen and unpacked glasses. “Are you sure you can handle Parker? If it’s too much for you, say the word and we’ll move you home with us.”
She grimaced, shaking her head. “I need this, Mom.”
“But—” Concern glinted in Mom’s eyes.
“Don’t worry. If my headaches get bad again, I’ll consider it, but I don’t think it will be an issue. They’ve been much better since summer.”
“Okay, okay.” Mom stretched on her tiptoes to place a glass on the upper shelf.
Celeste stripped packing tape off a box in the kitchen and stacked plates in a cupboard. This cabin felt like home already. And knowing she wouldn’t run into anyone from her past took a layer of pressure off. All the rumors about the accident had gotten back to her over the previous months. Variations on the same theme—she’d been either texting or negligent or intoxicated before the car jumped the ditch and wrapped around a telephone pole.
A shiver rippled over her skin. No, she hadn’t been texting or drinking. But if she’d paid more attention to the weather conditions, she would have realized the pavement was covered in black ice. She would have driven slower.
And Brandy would be alive.
The plate in her hand slipped. She tightened her grip.
When she got the surgery and no one could see the scars anymore, they would forget about the accident. She’d be able to face herself in the mirror. She could look at Parker and not want to crush him to her, crying out, “It was my fault! I killed your mommy!”
She’d lived with the visual reminders for too long. They’d forced her into hiding, away from the options that used to be available to her. Her mind flipped to Sam, his comment about not wanting his life.
She didn’t want hers, either.
The life she wanted depended on more surgery.
* * *
Sam wiped the sweat off his forehead with a towel Saturday morning. The clock read 9:20, which meant he needed to get ready. Celeste would be here in ten minutes to work out a schedule. Schedule. The word brought a bad taste to his mouth. It was impersonal, reminding him he was a duty, nothing more. It had been three days since Celeste moved in, and he hadn’t been able to get her or Parker off his mind.
He tightened his hold on the crutches as he clip-clopped to the kitchen. Regardless of what his family thought, he hadn’t completely given up on himself. Every morning he spent an hour performing range-of-motion exercises and working his upper body with weights. The effort always exhausted him, and the pain in his legs? Excruciating. He dreaded returning to physical therapy next week.
Maybe he should cancel.
And break his promise to Celeste? If he was that much of a coward, he might as well give up on life now.
He’d go to PT. He was a fighter.
Was being the key word.
When was the last time he’d fought for anything other than to maneuver his body out of bed without aggravating his leg? Lately he’d played the role of invalid a little too well.
Fumbling with the cupboard door, he almost dropped his crutch. It had been a long time since he used them to get around the cottage. Both arms and legs already ached. Whenever he put weight on his bad leg, his ankle rolled and knee caved. Balancing on his left leg and crutch, he pulled a glass out of the cupboard and flipped on the faucet, letting the water stream until it ran cold.
In some ways he’d been fortunate. Within six months of his first surgery, he’d regained feeling in his foot. Most of his leg followed. He’d used crutches until June, when one slip in the shower had thrown him back to square one. The ligaments in his right knee had torn and the healing nerve graft had been strained. Another surgery had repaired the knee, but three weeks with his leg immobilized had set his progress back considerably. The physical therapist made home visits for two weeks, but when the home visits stopped, so did Sam’s motivation. The flexibility and strength he’d fought so hard for had declined.
What if physical therapy didn’t work? Why do it if he’d be stuck in this state forever?
You promised her, Sheffield.
Now and then he’d caught glimpses of Celeste carrying Parker across the lawn to the edge of the lake. Her hair was usually pulled back, and her face would glow as she held both Parker’s hands so he could toddle in front of her. He wished he could join her and toss Parker up in the air and catch him the way Tommy did with his youngest, Emily, who would giggle nonstop.
Sam frowned, thinking of Parker’s dad. The kid didn’t have a father, and Celeste appeared to be single. He hadn’t seen any cars besides her parents’ pull up.
He changed into a clean T-shirt and checked his appearance in the bathroom mirror. Too thin and pale with dark smudges under his eyes. In other words, a train wreck. The sensation of pins and needles spread across his right knee as a faint knock came from the kitchen.
Crutches or wheelchair? Experience said to settle his leg on the footrest of the wheelchair or he’d be in for a world of hurt, but vanity won. He thunked his way down the hall and hollered, “Come in.”
Celeste stepped inside with Parker on her hip and her head lowered. When she glanced up, Sam’s lungs froze. Maybe it was the shyness in her brown eyes or the slight imperfection in her smile—whatever it was, she affected him. If his life was different, he’d be tempted to ask her on a date.
The muscles in his stomach tightened. His life wasn’t different. He couldn’t even handle leaving the cottage. How could he fantasize about dating?
“You’re up and about.” Celeste sounded surprised. The day was sunny but cool, and she wore a beige cardigan over dark jeans and matching beige slip-on canvas shoes. “You look pale.”
Yeah, a mere hour of exercises left me limp.
“Come in and sit down.” He led the way to the living room and sat on a chair. He made a conscious effort not to hiss as he lifted his bad leg onto the ottoman. Sweet relief. The aching lessened but the tingling sensation increased.
She perched on the edge of the couch and bounced Parker on her knees. Sam peered more closely at him. His eyes were lighter brown than hers, and he had chubby cheeks and a happy air about him. Sam had the craziest urge to take the boy in his arms and set him on his lap.
“Cute kid.” He smiled at him, then studied Celeste from her shiny hair to her slim frame.
“Thanks.” She seemed to be aware of his scrutiny and shrank into herself. She nodded to his leg. “How are you? Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You’re not in pain?”
Here he’d been trying to appear somewhat normal, and he’d obviously failed. She viewed him as a patient. Not as a man.
“Did you bring your calendar?” he said. “Let’s figure out a schedule.”
“I keep everything in here.” She held up her phone.
Phone. His was in the bedroom. As much as he wanted to get it himself, the sensations in his leg screamed not to. “Mine is in my room. Would you mind getting it for me?”
“Sure.” She rose, taking Parker with her. The boy watched him over her shoulder. Sam almost waved at the little guy.
“First door to your right. It’s on the table.” Next to his hospital bed. A further reminder he was an invalid. Real men didn’t sleep in beds with railings.
Why was his pride flaring up now? She’d see the entire house when she cleaned. Would he feel the same if Celeste were older, unattractive, unavailable? Probably not.
If he could go back in time, back to when he was whole...
“Here you go.” She handed him the phone, her slender fingers brushing his.
“Thank you.” Ignoring the way his adrenaline kicked in at her simple touch, he swiped the screen and clicked through to his calendar. “Why don’t we start with cleaning?”
For the next ten minutes, they hashed out a schedule. Toward the end, he struggled to concentrate. His leg had been growing stiff as they talked.
“Could you grab me an ice pack from the freezer?” He grimaced, shifting to ease his discomfort. “It slips into a wrap.” Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. When would this get easier?
She set Parker on the area rug a few feet in front of him, went to the kitchen and returned, handing Sam the ice pack. “Is there anything I can do? You look like you’re hurting.”
He was. Every day brought pain. “The ice wrap will help. I overdid my exercises this morning.”
She helped him fasten the wrap on, and he leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes and counting to five. If she said anything, he didn’t hear it. When the worst of the pain passed, he opened his eyes.
Parker still sat on the rug, but his little legs pumped back and forth as he laughed, both fists full of the fluffy material. Sam’s discomfort faded at the sight of such delight.
“You do exercises?” She resumed her spot on the couch, leaving Parker where he was to enjoy the rug.
“I did physical therapy nearly every day for the first year after the accident. I was making decent progress until I fell almost at the year mark. Ever since the operation in June, my knee’s been weak and stiff. I still do a sequence of exercises each morning.” It wasn’t enough. He knew it. Had known it for months. But the longer he stayed away from therapy, the more daunting it became.
“I had to learn how to eat again. A few spots are painful to touch.” She pointed to the scar on her cheekbone then to her chin. “It’s hard.” Her tone softened. “What you’re doing is hard.”
It was hard. No one understood how hard.
Except maybe her. Which made him like her even more.
“Can you drive me to the rehab center next week?” he asked gruffly. “I have appointments scheduled Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Ten o’clock each morning.”
“Sure.” She typed the information into her phone. “Anything else?”
“Not right now.” He wasn’t ready for her to go, though. She distracted him from the monotony his life had become. “Tell me about your life before the accident.”
“There’s not much to tell.” Celeste rummaged through the diaper bag and handed Parker a small stuffed dog. He promptly shoved the ear in his mouth. “I answered phones for an insurance agency. My major didn’t exactly help my job prospects.”
“What was your major?”
“History.”
“You don’t want to teach?” His muscles loosened as the ice worked.
“Actually, I’ve been thinking about getting certified.” She gave him a shy glance. “It depends. A lot has changed.”
Parker squealed and the floppy dog flew through the air. He crawled after it. Sam grinned. Yes, he could see how things had changed. She had a baby to care for.
“What about you?” she asked. “Do you think you’ll work again?”
The thought of not working again horrified him almost as much as the thought of living out his days in a wheelchair. “Yes.”
“The dealership?”
“Uh-huh.” He tightened the wrap. As much as he’d tried to deny it, he craved his job. He’d been toying with the idea of printing off last month’s profit-and-loss statement again. Maybe this time he could get through it without vomiting. “I oversaw Sheffield Auto. My brothers and I had meetings every Friday morning at the closest dealership—one of Tommy’s—to go over quotas, employees, budgets, you name it.”
And he’d been in charge. Finally a respected part of the family business instead of the pesky little brother. Man, he missed it.
“Do you miss it?”
It was as if she’d read his mind.
“Yeah.”
“You should go to one of the meetings.”
“I don’t know.” He frowned as the view of his propped leg greeted him. He’d gone from annoying little brother to respected member of the company to cripple. He was afraid of breaking down in front of his brothers and dad. Could he return to the job he’d thrived on?
Parker hauled himself up to a standing position, then fell back on his bottom. He chewed on the toy again.
“Would they come here?” she asked.
They probably would. But he wanted out of this cottage. Wanted to be the CEO, not the victim.
Was he capable, though? The accident had injured him in ways he didn’t want anyone to know. “I’ll see how I’m feeling after a couple of weeks.”
Her sweet smile made him want to declare he would be at those meetings, but he knew better than to make promises he couldn’t keep. The only thing worse than being pitied would be for Bryan, Tommy and Dad to witness him having an emotional breakdown.
The last thing he wanted was another devastating setback. He had to be careful, which meant playing it safe and taking things slow with his leg—and with his life.
* * *
Monday morning Celeste craned her neck to peer over the counter. Parker sat on his play mat and grunted as he gripped a toy airplane over his head. When he shook it, music played and lights flashed. She had five minutes before she had to buckle him into his car seat. Today was Sam’s first day of physical therapy, and she’d promised she’d get him there early. A thrill of excitement sped through her veins at the thought of seeing him again. He had a kind heart. It matched his face, which kept flashing before her when she closed her eyes at night.
He was way out of her league. Too handsome, too next-door, too everything.
She frowned at the drizzle outside. Sam had already told her he would be in the wheelchair since he couldn’t take the chance of hurting his leg using the crutches. What if he slipped getting into her minivan? And would she be able to help him in and out without hurting him?
After a final swipe of the dishcloth over the counter, she hustled to the front hall closet for her jacket. Then she nestled Parker into the car seat, ignoring his protests at being separated from the toy. He arched his back and fussed as she clicked the straps into place.
“I know, baby.” Grabbing the diaper bag and her purse, she tensed at his increasing cries and lifted the carrier as her cell phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Celeste? This is Sue Roper from Rock of Ages church.”
Brandy’s old church. Dread pooled in Celeste’s stomach.
“Yes, hello, Sue.”
“I know you’re raising Parker now, and I wasn’t sure if you were aware that Brandy’s grandmother, Pearl, recently moved to an assisted living facility.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve been meaning to visit.” Grandma Pearl. The woman had hosted countless tea parties in her parlor for Celeste and Brandy when they were little girls. Rheumatoid arthritis and weak bones had forced her into an apartment in assisted living. Guilt pinched Celeste. She hadn’t visited the endearing lady in a while. At least her parents had brought Parker to see her a few times.
“She would love that,” Sue said. “But that’s not why I’m calling. We’re preparing the children’s Christmas Eve program, and we have a favor to ask.”
Parker’s cries became wails. A favor? She rocked the carrier. “Is there any way I can call you back?”
“It will only take a minute.”
“Okay, just give me a second.” Celeste suppressed a sigh and took Parker out of the car seat, settling him in her arms. His cries stopped instantly. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“Well, Pearl is very near and dear to us, so the ladies and I have been discussing it, and we want to give her a Christmas surprise. Since Brandy died, she’s been really down. Still comes to church, thankfully. Lou Bonner brings her each Sunday. The one thing that brightens her up is Parker. She always talks about him and shows us the pictures you send her.”
Celeste’s chest tightened. She should be doing more for Grandma Pearl than sending a few pictures now and then.
Sue continued. “Wouldn’t she love it if Parker was baby Jesus in the program? I can’t think of another gift that would make her happier. I know he’s a bit old for the part, but we’d love to have him for Pearl’s sake.”
In her head, Celeste instantly ticked off problems with the scenario. Parker wasn’t walking, but he was at a stage where he hated to be constrained. Having him in a Christmas program seemed overly ambitious. Then there was the fact Grandma Pearl went to Brandy’s old church.
There would be questions. And attention. The kind she avoided.
Sure, Sue was friendly on the phone, but what about Brandy’s other friends from church? Did they consider Celeste responsible for Brandy’s death?
Why wouldn’t they? She was the one who’d been driving.
“Um, he doesn’t sit all that well right now.”
“If he won’t sit still, he can be a sheep.”
She longed to decline, but this was for Grandma Pearl, and the woman was alone and, most likely, sad. Not to mention Brandy would have wanted Parker in the Christmas Eve program—she’d climb Mount Everest for her beloved grandmother.
“What would I have to do?” Parker tried to wriggle out of her grasp, but she held tight, pretending to blow him kisses. Anything to avoid a meltdown.
“Practices are Thursday nights starting after Thanksgiving. We’ll walk the children through their parts and fit them for their costumes. I know it’s a lot to ask, but we don’t know how many Christmases Pearl has left. Would you do this for her?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you. We’ll see you in a few weeks.”
Celeste hung up with mixed feelings. Maybe Mom and Dad would take Parker to the practices. If not, she would act like an adult, drive him there herself and deal with it.
Wait. The church was on the same road as the accident site. If she drove Parker, she would have to pass the ditch, field and telephone pole where she’d lost so much.
The moments before the car spun out came back. The loud Christmas music, the laughter—what had they been laughing about?—the happy, girls’-night-out feeling she always got when she was with Brandy.
She would never have it again.
Her stomach felt hollow. Mom and Dad would have to drive Parker, because she wasn’t ready to confront her past.
There wasn’t time to think about it now. She was late. Once again, she strapped Parker into the carrier. He whimpered, rubbing his eyes. She rushed down the porch steps into the rain, slid open the side door of her red minivan and locked Parker’s seat into the base before driving the short distance to Sam’s. Tossing her hood up to protect her head from the rain, she ascended the kitchen steps and knocked.
“I’ll meet you at the bottom of the ramp,” Sam yelled.
“Okay.” She hurried down the staircase and wiped her palms on her jeans, holding her breath when he rolled her way. “Do you need me to help?”
“No. Got it.”
As soon as he reached the passenger side, she held out her hand to help him into the van. He kept his weight on his left leg and got into the seat slowly and with concentrated effort. Parker had finally stopped crying. So far, so good.
“Let me put this in the trunk, and we’ll be on our way.” She clutched the hood together under her chin before awkwardly loading the chair in the back. Once inside the van, she checked on Parker, whose eyelids were heavy, and buckled her seat belt. “Sorry I’m late. Something unexpected came up.”
“For a minute, I thought you stood me up.”
Stand him up? Not in a million years.
“No, nothing like that. A lady from Brandy’s church called.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah...well, no. Not really.” She shook her head, swallowing the knot in her throat. “Never mind. I don’t know what to think. They want to surprise Brandy’s grandma by having Parker be baby Jesus in the Christmas Eve service.”
“Why do you sound upset? Don’t you like her grandma?”
“I love her. She’s sweetness personified. In fact, I feel guilty I haven’t visited her in a while. She adores Parker.”
“Don’t feel guilty. You’re doing the best you can.”
The road wound through trees. The wipers swished rapidly as she sneaked a peek over at Sam’s profile. She guessed he smiled a lot—or used to, anyway—by the faint creases around his blue eyes. Did her heart just flutter? He was so handsome, even if he was worried. The lines in his forehead and slight bulge in the vein near his temple didn’t lie.
“Are you nervous about today?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Sam faced her, and her stomach dipped. My, oh my.
She turned and continued along the two-lane road. The forest gave way to farm fields, some with faded yellow cornstalks standing limp in the rain, others with dried stumps of harvested crops. The trees in the distance looked like a watercolor painting of fall colors.
“What else is going on?” The way he said it gave her the impression he’d welcome a distraction.
“I’m still not sure about this baby Jesus thing in the Christmas Eve program.”
“He’s pretty young.” Sam frowned, looking back at Parker. She checked her rearview. He’d fallen asleep.
“Yes, but if he won’t cooperate, they’ll let him be a sheep.”
“Cute.” The corner of his mouth kicked up in a grin, and his eyes twinkled. “I’d like to see that.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t sound so excited.”
“I’m not a hundred percent sold on the idea.”
“Why not?”
“Well, like you said, he’s pretty young. Not even walking yet. And I would have to take him to practices.”
“What’s so bad about that?” He shifted, watching her.
Everything. Brandy’s friends might blame me. And then there’s my face. She tilted her chin up. “The church is a mile north of where my car spun out last December. I would have to pass it to get to the practices.”
He didn’t say anything for a while, just stared at the rain splashing on the window. “If it would make it easier, I could go with you.”
Celeste sucked in a breath. His offer burrowed into her heart. All her reasons for not taking Parker seemed petty. But reality set in. Then doubt. Sam would see other people’s reactions. She didn’t want him to think less of her.
“Thank you, but I can always ask my parents to take him.”
She could feel his stare but didn’t bother looking over. He didn’t understand, and she wasn’t explaining. She wished she could take him up on his offer. Wished she had met him before her accident, when things were different. When even a tongue-tied girl like her might have had a chance at dating a guy like him.
* * *
“You’ve been working on your upper body strength.”
“Every morning your voice echoes in my head, chiding me about working hard and pushing through.” Sam’s left leg trembled at the exertion of the last hour. His right hip was ready to explode. The pain differed from what he’d been feeling at home, though. He recognized it from all those months he’d worked with Dr. Rachel Stepmeyer. The pain of exertion brought a rush. And hope.
Last time he’d hoped, he’d been let down. How many times had he prayed for complete healing? He’d believed God would heal him, too. He’d memorized the Bible verse about being able to move a mountain with enough faith. His faith hadn’t lacked. God hadn’t listened to him.
God didn’t care.
“The good news is your muscles haven’t atrophied. You’re weaker, obviously, and you’ve lost some range of motion, but commit to your sessions and you’ll get it back. We have a new muscle stimulation system. It could help with your pain.” Dr. Stepmeyer typed something into her tablet. “I want you out of the wheelchair more. I know it’s hard, but the crutches will force you to build muscle in your legs.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
That brought a hint of a smile to her face. She handed him a brochure about muscle stimulation. “Read this over and let me know if you want to try it.”
“I will.” He tucked it between his thigh and the side of the wheelchair.
“See you on Wednesday.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh, and Sam?”
He waited.
“It’s good to have you back.”
Nodding, he spun the chair and wheeled away. Rain still pounded against the glass door. He didn’t see Celeste’s minivan, so he waited near the entrance. Ever since his last doctor’s appointment a few months ago, he’d pushed aside the nagging worry that the fall in the shower had killed his chances at ever walking unassisted. After the last surgery, Dr. Curtis had warned him it might take two more years for him to heal. If he healed...
But today Dr. Stepmeyer had assured him he just needed to keep working at it.
His thoughts turned to the conversation earlier in the car. Sam had made the offer to accompany Celeste to the practices because he thought she needed a friend. And, if he was honest, because he’d been thinking about her more and more each day. He wanted to spend time with her. Enjoyed talking to her. She didn’t put pressure on him the way his family did.
The fact she was avoiding the site of her accident didn’t surprise him. What did? How quickly she turned him down.
He wasn’t used to women turning him down.
Celeste’s red minivan stopped at the sidewalk. He pressed the button for the doors to automatically open. The handicap buttons were getting old. His life was getting old.
Would Celeste have said yes if he wasn’t in a wheelchair?
He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.
Chapter Three (#u82386589-a981-5d5f-8615-4414f5bfc6a0)
Celeste pushed the dust mop across Sam’s living room floor while Parker stood, knees bouncing as he held on to the wooden coffee table. For three weeks she and Sam had been settling into a comfortable routine, one with clear expectations. She took Sam to and from physical therapy three days a week, shopped for his groceries at the crack of dawn on Tuesday mornings and cleaned on Fridays after his physical therapy session. Sometimes she wished their relationship wasn’t so businesslike.
Her mind wandered to her clients’ long to-do list waiting at home. She was a virtual assistant to busy, successful people, and working while raising Parker was proving more challenging than she’d expected. To fit in all the projects—from emails and phone calls to invoicing—she got up at six, worked a few hours and did the bulk of her duties when Parker napped or after he went to bed.
Then there was her main charge, Sam. At least she’d managed to nip her growing attraction to him in the bud by telling herself over and over that he was off-limits. Sam treated her for what she was—the caregiver who lived next door.
She sighed. One more room and she’d be finished with the light cleaning he required. This place needed some music, preferably upbeat Christmas songs. Hard to believe next week was Thanksgiving already.
“You think today will be the day Parker makes his big move?” Sam swung into the room on his crutches. After his therapy session, he’d disappeared to his bedroom to shower and change. His damp hair looked darker than usual, and his smile made her stop sweeping midstroke.
Look away! He can’t help he’s gorgeous.
Now that she was around more, she’d taken to studying him—to make sure he was okay. While around six feet tall, he wasn’t large. He had muscular arms, but his legs were lean from lack of use. Some days his face faded white and his lips tightened to a thin line. Those days she knew he was in a lot of pain. But today he had a relaxed air about him. He settled into his chair, setting the crutches down as he carefully straightened his leg on the ottoman.
He waved to Parker. “I think he’ll start walking on his own this week.”
“I hope so. Everything I’ve read said babies usually walk unassisted by twelve months. His pediatrician told me not to worry, but I can’t help it.”
Parker made a goo-goo noise and zoomed around the table, not taking his hands off it. He tripped, toppling over on his side.
“Oh!” She lurched forward, but Sam held his hand out.
“Let him be. He’ll figure it out.”
She paused, waiting for a cry, but Parker pushed himself back up and held on to the table once more. He stared at Sam with a big grin, then took a wobbly step toward him.
“Look at that! He’s doing it!” Sam held his arms open wide, reaching as far as his extended leg would allow him. “Come on over, buddy.”
Celeste whipped her phone out of her back pocket, fumbling to enter the passcode. She pressed Video and directed it Parker’s way. He stood immobile with his hands in the air, but he hadn’t taken a step yet. Come on, come on, you can do it, little man!
Parker lifted his chunky leg and promptly fell on his bottom. She exhaled the breath she’d been holding. “Oh, well. He’ll do it one of these days.”
“Maybe today. You never know.” Sam made funny faces at Parker, who laughed and crawled to him, pulling himself to the edge of Sam’s chair. Sam picked him up.
At the sight of Parker on Sam’s lap, Celeste’s heart swelled. He always had a smile for her nephew, often shaking his tiny hand or ruffling the hair on his head, but this was the first time he’d held the boy. The picture they presented? Priceless. But unwanted thoughts surged through her mind. Josh should be here cradling his son. What if Parker never has a daddy?
What if she ended up raising Parker alone forever? It was a scenario she knew could come true. What guy would want to raise her nephew and wake up to her scars every morning?
Celeste was it for Parker. Part of her loved being his mom, but the other part worried she’d never be enough. The baby had lost his mom and dad, and he was stuck with his aunt who’d basically become a recluse.
She grabbed the dust mop with more force than necessary and swept the rest of the floor while Sam made funny explosion noises and tickled Parker, who giggled loudly. Outside, the wind blew a few straggling brown leaves across the deck. Winter had arrived. Snow would be coming soon.
“Why don’t you take a break, Celeste?”
With a few taps she emptied the dishpan in the trash. She never lingered after cleaning, but then, Sam never asked her to stay, either. What would it hurt? Parker looked so content on his lap she didn’t have the heart to tear him away. “Okay.”
She took a seat on the leather couch. Crossed one leg over the other. Had no clue what to do next. Parker yawned.
“I noticed you running the other day.” Sam tucked him under his arm. Be still her heart. There was something very appealing about Sam holding a child. “Your parents still helping out?”
“Yes. They miss him. They swing by after work a few days a week. They’ll be here Sunday, too.”
“Good.” He didn’t seem to know what to say, either. His eyes darted around the room. “I didn’t know you ran.”
“I haven’t as much lately. The days are getting shorter, so my long runs are numbered.”
“Oh?” He adjusted his leg, holding Parker firmly. Parker’s eyes had grown heavy, and he let out another big yawn.
“It’s kind of hard with Parker. I have a jogging stroller, but for me, running is a solitary sport. It’s not the same pushing a stroller. I’d rather have my arms moving.”
“What about a treadmill?”
She twisted her face, sticking her tongue out. “Yuck. Boring. I’m best outside.”
“I take it you’ve been doing it a long time?”
“Running used to be a big part of my life.”
“How’s that?”
“Well, let’s see.” She tapped her finger against her chin and flinched, suddenly remembering the tender spot. “I started running cross-country in seventh grade. I ran varsity all four years of high school. Got a partial college scholarship out of it, too.”
“Impressive.”
She diverted her attention to her lap. “Running kept me focused, but I didn’t give enough thought to life after college. It’s probably why I have a degree I’m not using.” She let out a self-deprecating laugh.
“Well, that makes two of us. I’m not using mine, either.” He frowned. “I think I need to change that.” She waited for him to say more on the subject, but he shook his head. “I take it you didn’t have dreams of marathons?”
“Oh, I had those, all right. I saw myself as the next Joan Benoit.”
“Who is she?” He gave her a pointed stare, his eyes playful.
“An amazing American runner.”
He looked suitably impressed. “So what happened?”
She shrugged, brushing a piece of lint from her jeans. “No matter how hard I trained, I wasn’t as fast as the top runners. I got injured my junior year of college. I’d had tendinitis and other problems off and on, but the stress fracture took a long time to heal. My college career was a disappointment. I did end up running in a few marathons after college.”
“Not anymore?”
“No.” Memories flitted to her. The feel of packed earth beneath her feet at all those high school races. Sweat dripping down her back as she pushed herself to stay conditioned on lonely roads during the summer. Lifting weights to get an edge. Being top ten in her district, but not good enough to take the state title. She missed those days.
“You don’t mind holding him?” She nodded at Parker, who had fallen asleep in Sam’s arms. What would it be like to have a man in her life, a husband to help raise Parker?
“Not at all. My niece Emily used to sleep on my lap, before...well, before I had the second surgery. The family doesn’t meet here for Tuesday dinners anymore. In fact, no one comes around as much. I didn’t want them to.”
“I get it. I pushed people away, too.” And some of them pushed me away.
The clock on the wall ticked as silence stretched.
“You never told me if your parents are taking Parker to the Christmas program practices.”
Celeste wrapped her arms around her waist. “I haven’t asked them.”
“Why not?” He sounded skeptical.
“It slipped my mind.” It hadn’t slipped her mind, but every time she considered calling Mom to ask, she balked. Something about the request reeked of desperation.
“Well, I should probably go back.” She rose. “Is there anything else you need before I leave?”
“Yes, actually.” Sam shifted in his seat, his face distorting as he did. “There is something you can do for me. I want to get out of here.”
* * *
“Oh, okay.” Celeste blinked. “Right now? It’s kind of cold out.”
Sam groaned. That wasn’t what he meant. He didn’t exactly know what he was asking.
“No.” He inhaled Parker’s baby shampoo, fighting the frustration bulging inside him. The accident had taken the use of his leg, but sometimes he thought it had taken his speech, too. Conversation had been easy—his strong suit—before the accident. And now? He might as well be a caveman, grunting and gesturing. “I mean in general. I was wondering if I could go grocery shopping with you.”
“Oh.” Her face fell as she sat back down. “Sure. No problem.”
But the way she slumped said it was a problem. “I don’t want to go out in the wheelchair. I don’t like being stared at, and I need to build strength in my legs. I’m just... Forget it.” He jerked his head to the side. Why did he have to be so dependent?
“Well, if you’re trying to avoid stares, I’m probably not the best person to be out with.” Her hair had fallen in front of her face, the way it had the first few times he saw her.
“Look, I know I’m asking a lot from you, but I’ve been hiding away for a long time. If I’m going to have any shot at a somewhat normal life, I have to go back to work. I thought if I start getting used to my crutches in public places, maybe it would be easier. I’m just asking to go with you when you have errands to run. Like when you stop in town for coffee or go to the library—that sort of thing.”
“I think that’s wonderful, Sam.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “But your family is better suited to take you out.”
“They all work. I would have to go with them at the busiest times, and everyone in town would stop and ask a million questions. My legs hurt the worst at night.” His forehead tightened, and he could feel his pulse hammering in his temple. He hated begging, but he’d given it a lot of thought over the last couple of weeks. Since he was back in physical therapy, he could see how much he’d been missing. It was as though he’d spent the last months under a dark tent, and the flap had opened, revealing a sunny meadow.
Frown lines deepened above the bridge of Celeste’s nose. “I’ll have to think about it.”
“What’s there to think about?” He massaged the back of his neck with his free hand. “I understand I would slow you down, but it can’t be that big of an imposition.”
“You wouldn’t slow me down, and you’re no imposition.” She wrung her hands together. “It’s just...well, I don’t go to the coffee shop or the library. I do the grocery shopping as soon as it opens, and I practically sprint through the aisles to get it done as quickly as possible.”
Some of the things puzzling him about Celeste finally added up. “You don’t want people to see your scars.”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. Was that a tear glistening in her eye?
“But you’re beautiful.”
She gasped, staring wide-eyed at him.
He shrugged. “I barely notice them.”
“You’re the only one, then. I have a follow-up appointment in December. I want more surgery.”
Something in her tone made him pause. In his experience, the doctors told him when he needed more surgery, not the other way around. He didn’t want to push the issue, though. He’d already brought a tear.
“Celeste?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Where do you miss going? You know, the places you took for granted before the accident?”
She gazed at the wall, a faraway look in her eyes. “Well, like I said, running. I’d run for miles whenever I wasn’t working. And we had a café I loved going to. I’d buy the latest David McCullough biography and just sit and read, sipping a latte. No one would bother me.”
She glowed as she spoke, and he wanted to give it to her—her old life—but he could no more fix hers than he could fix his own.
“With the weather getting colder, you won’t run outside anyhow, will you?” He couldn’t imagine running when it snowed. He’d never been an exercise fanatic. Played basketball now and then, and that was about it.
“Are you kidding? Of course I run in the winter. Ice and negative windchill are the only things stopping me.” She waved. “Well, until Parker came along, that is.”
Her words gave him an idea. He didn’t know if it would work, but he wasn’t about to overanalyze it at this point. “What if I watch Parker for you so you can run?”
“What?” She shook her head. “No. I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“I realize I’m not the best babysitter material. But if you brought him over here, there’s really not anywhere he could go. It’s a big open space for him. And I’ve got a television. We can watch cartoons.”
“But your cabinets aren’t babyproofed.” She stood, crossing her arms over her chest. “What if he falls or something and you can’t get to him?”
“I’m not paralyzed. I get in and out of my wheelchair fine, and you know I’ve been using my crutches longer each day for the past couple of weeks.”
Regret shone in her eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“No offense taken. I understand. If you’re worried about babyproofing, we can empty the cupboards. I never use them.” He tightened his hold on Parker, so warm against his chest. He wouldn’t mind taking care of the little guy for her, not at all. “How long do your runs last?”
“Thirty minutes to an hour. When I trained for marathons, I did longer runs, but I’m not training now.” She began to pace. He liked watching her graceful movements.
“Do you want to?” he asked.
She stopped, turning to him. “Do I want to what?”
“Train for a marathon.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t considered it.”
“Why not?”
“Well...” She returned to the couch and gave him a frank look. “My life revolves around Parker. And I’m having a hard time fitting everyday activities and work around him. Even taking a shower has gotten complicated.”
He didn’t doubt that was true, but he guessed her insecurity about her scars was the bigger problem.
“Let me take him off your hands a few mornings a week so you can fit your runs in.”
He could see in her face how tempted she was to take him up on his offer.
“You can drop him off first thing Tuesday morning, and afterward we’ll go grocery shopping together. Look, you miss running. I miss work. I want to go to the Friday meetings. I want to inspect the cars on my dealership lot, talk to my employees and sell vehicles to my customers. I miss the reports, the quotas, the rush of meeting our sales goals. I need to get back. I might never walk on both feet again, but I can work. I want to work. But I need to do this, first.”
* * *
Celeste clasped her hands tightly. She had to say yes. She knew it. How could she deny Sam this? But how could she agree?
He didn’t know what he was asking.
“I want to help you, Sam, but there’s a reason I don’t go to the coffee shop and read anymore, and it has nothing to do with Parker. People don’t just stare. They ask questions, and sometimes it hurts.”
If she took him with her, he’d see how other people viewed her. He’d said she was beautiful—of all the wonderful things he could say!—but he’d see for himself no one else thought she was pretty.
“Maybe you’re wrong. They don’t know you, but they know me. If you take me with you, the people we run into might not notice you because it’s been so long since I’ve been out.”
She hadn’t thought of that. “Yeah, and then a mom will stroll by with her young kids and one will say, ‘Mommy, why does she have all those marks on her face?’ It’s embarrassing, Sam.”
His lips lifted in a grin. “I can handle that if you can handle, ‘Look, Marge, isn’t that the Sheffield boy? What a shame it’s been this long and he’s still not walking.’”
She giggled. She didn’t mean to, but it came out. “Do people actually say that?”

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