Yuletide Redemption

“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

“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.