Читать книгу Yuletide Redemption - Jill Kemerer - Страница 11

Chapter Two

“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.