by Jill Kemerer
He wanted to pray.
I can’t pray. I haven’t prayed in forever.
God didn’t listen, anyhow.
But what if God did? Today?
No, I’m not doing it. I’m not. I can handle this.
“Hey, Sam.” Dad charged into the room, jangling his key ring around his finger. “You are a sight for sore eyes, son. I’ve wanted to see you right there for so long.”
Sam’s throat tightened. He was going to cry! Right here. Right now.
God, I need Your help. Don’t let me fall apart. Not in front of Dad. Don’t humiliate me.
He inhaled deeply and began to calm down.
When he trusted himself to speak, Sam said, “I’ve wanted to be here. It’s good to be back.”
“You want some coffee?” Dad zoomed straight to the small counter with the coffee supplies.
“Yes.” Maybe coffee would scorch his throat free from any inconvenient emotions.
Tommy and Bryan entered the room, laughing about something, and closed the door behind them.
“Look who made it,” Tommy teased. “I hope you have a good excuse for missing the last seventy-five meetings.”
Sam’s stomach did the tango. He wasn’t going to throw up, was he? He pressed his hand to his gut.
Bryan winked. “We’ll let it slide. As long as you take over the cost-reduction program. I don’t know how you did it, man. It’s been driving me crazy.”
“I cross-referenced all five dealerships’ advertising fees, employee salaries and...” He rattled off the specifics, surprised he remembered the details after all this time. Cost reduction was one of his favorite aspects of the job.
Wait—he didn’t feel sick. He didn’t want to cry.
“See?” Tommy tapped his temple. “This is why we need you back so bad, Sam. Bryan and I hate that stuff.”
Dad slurped his coffee. “I got tired of it, too, boys. The only one who really loved it was my dad. And, apparently, Sam here.”
Sam waved two fingers for Bryan to pass him a folder. “Let’s see what you’ve done with this place while I was gone.”
As he scanned the first sheet of the report, excitement built.
He wanted to make phone calls and check spreadsheets.
He wanted to joke around with the Sheffield Auto employees again.
Could coming to a meeting really be this easy?
Thank You, God.
This was a gift from the Lord.
Maybe he needed to take his faith one day at a time, too.
Chapter Seven
Sitting in the wheelchair in his bathroom the next afternoon, Sam toweled off his hair and patted aftershave on his neck and face. The loose-fitting jeans weren’t his favorite, but they covered his knee brace and allowed him to wear somewhat normal clothes. He’d put on a casual button-down shirt for the occasion. Much better than his usual T and athletic pants. They were decorating the Christmas tree soon.
He wanted today to be special, to repay Celeste for all her kindness. Generosity wasn’t his only motive—he enjoyed being with her. He could tell her things he didn’t tell other people, including his family. She saw his struggles and didn’t seem to think less of him. Lately he’d been thinking about her as more than a friend. And definitely more than the woman next door.
Which brought him to the question: What kind of man did Celeste need?
He was wired to protect and support a woman. If anyone deserved protection and support, it was Celeste. Support he could do once he returned to work. But protect? Might take months or years before he could walk unaided on his own two feet.
The fact he defined himself by his legs was starting to bother him. Could insecurity be a form of pride? Pride? In his weak legs? Hardly.
He raked the comb through his hair. The urge to pray pricked at his conscience. For what?
For a future.
What if he started praying regularly? For healing? What if God ignored him again?
Too much was riding on his recovery.
He’d just keep working hard at physical therapy. The harder he worked, the sooner he’d be off these crutches for good. Then he’d be ready for the future he’d been dreaming about. His store numbers were average, which gave him the kick in the pants necessary to build his sales back up, but the company overall was thriving.
If Celeste would drive Sam to their main office twice a week, he could resume his duties as CEO. Or was he getting too ahead of himself? It had been so long that he’d been pumped up about anything. He wanted to rush in and take life by both hands.
He went back to the living room. The artificial tree stood tall and bare in front of the bank of windows. He’d asked Dad to buy it for him. Bryan had set it up this morning. Bryan had also offered to bring Sam’s ornaments from his storage unit, but he couldn’t remember the combination to the lock, so Bryan ended up poking around in the cottage’s basement, unearthing boxes of ornaments, which now sat unopened in the living room. Aunt Sally had dropped an apple pie off earlier.
Surprising himself, he’d told Dad, Bryan and Sally they were welcome to stop by later and see the finished decorations. He wanted to introduce the family to Celeste and Parker. Seeing how well she’d handled being out with strangers the other night, he guessed she was ready for it.
He clip-clopped to the stereo and carefully lowered himself to the ottoman to find a Christmas music station.
Knocks at the door threw his pulse into gear. “Come in.”
“Hi. I hope we aren’t too early.” Celeste shook snowflakes out of her hair and set Parker down. He toddled to Sam as fast as his chubby legs would take him. Once again, Sam regretted not being able to swoop him up and toss him in the air. Parker wrapped his arms around Sam’s leg.
“Let’s sit down, and I’ll hold you.” Sam laughed, trying to walk backward with his crutches.
“What smells so good?” Celeste hung her coat over the back of a dining chair.
“Apple pie. Aunt Sally brought it over.”
“I see you got the tree up. It’s tall, isn’t it?” Her hair fell softly over her shoulders. He had to force himself to look away.
“Yeah. Bryan put it up for me.” Sam backed to the couch and sat down. Then he picked Parker up and blew raspberries on his tummy. Parker squealed and laughed.
Celeste poked around the boxes. Fat snowflakes meandered down outside. The cinnamon aroma, Christmas music and snow blended together for an enticing effect.
“What should I do first?” Celeste held up a tray of silver bulbs. “Are the lights strung?”
“The tree is pre-lit.” He put Parker on the floor and hauled himself up with the crutches. Parker immediately fussed and held his arms in the air for Sam to take him. A pang of regret ricocheted through his heart. He wanted to carry Parker to the tree, put the star in his hands and hoist him up to place it on the tippy-top. But he couldn’t. “Sorry, buddy.”
Parker plopped on his bottom and started to cry. Sam tried to bend, but his knee felt as though it was going to give way. A flash of heat rippled over his skin. His heartbeat pounded. He forced himself to stay upright and be still a moment. Why couldn’t he just bend down and pick the kid up?
“All right, that’s enough, Parker.” Celeste gave him a stern look, and he sniffled, then crawled to Sam and stared up at him through watery brown eyes. “He’ll have to learn you can’t carry him around.”
The words ripped down his heart. If Sam had kept up with his physical therapy after the last surgery, would his legs be strong enough for a cane?
What did it matter? He couldn’t hold Parker and use a cane. He needed the balance of both legs.
Parker tugged on Sam’s pant legs, tears dripping down his cheeks. Sam clenched his jaw. As much as he didn’t want to use his wheelchair in
front of Celeste unless absolutely necessary, it would allow him to hold Parker.
Was it worth it?
Whimpering, Parker pulled on Sam’s pant leg, and Sam sighed. Yes, Parker was worth it.
“I’ll be right back.” As soon as he swung the crutches away, Parker began wailing. Sam lowered himself into the chair, balanced the crutches on his lap and wheeled back to the living room. He rolled right to Parker.
“Come on up, buddy.”
With watery eyes and a huge grin, Parker stood and held his arms out, and Sam picked him up, settling him on his lap. Parker sighed and snuggled into his chest, sucking his thumb.
Celeste met Sam’s eyes, and he forgot to breathe. Instead of pity in her expression, he saw admiration. Attraction, even.
She was attracted to him? Even in the chair?
Every muscle fiber ached to stand up, to drag her in his arms, to run his fingers through her silky brown hair, to press his lips against hers. To kiss her.
But Parker’s warm body had melded into his side, and Sam could no more pluck the child from his lap than he could act on his fantasies. So he wheeled to the nearest box and, with his free hand, grabbed a sealed plastic bag full of ornaments.
“Let’s get this decorated.” He sounded like a drill sergeant, but what else could he do? God, I know I’m out of line here. It’s been a long time since I’ve prayed on a regular basis, but I don’t know how to handle this—how to handle these feelings for Celeste. Will You help me?
Celeste was hanging bulbs around the tree. She moved near Sam and stretched to place one close to the top. Her slender waist was right there in front of him. Within reach. The urge to hold her grew stronger.
Great. That’s not helping.
Parker’s little body radiated heat through Sam’s shirt, and soon his even breathing assured Sam he’d fallen asleep. He better get his mind off Celeste and onto the task at hand. He ripped the bag open and pulled out a Mrs. Claus felt ornament.
Who had spent money on this thing?
“This is the ugliest ornament I’ve ever seen.” He gave it a skeptical stare. “It looks like a cat toy.”
She tipped her head to the side to see it. Her sparkly eyes did something to his pulse. “It’s not so bad.”
“How can you say that? This gal looks like she hasn’t seen daylight since 1954.” He drew out a matching Santa. “It gets worse. They’re a pair.”
Celeste laughed, loud and tinkling. “Well, be thankful there aren’t matching reindeer.”
“Wrong.” Sam held the clear bag up. Several brown felt reindeer with gold cording winding around them were visible.
“Oh, my.” She tucked her lips under in an attempt not to laugh. “Aren’t these your decorations?”
“No. They’re Granddad’s.”
Celeste smiled and lifted her knuckle under her chin. “When do you think they were last on a tree?”
“Like I said, 1954.” He blew dust off a small brown box.
“How sweet. Think of all the memories here. I wonder if your grandparents bought or made them. Maybe they were gifts. I can imagine a young couple, newly married, decorating a tree with all of these. Can you?”
“I do remember an old picture. Grandma had a blond beehive, and Granddad’s hair was slicked back. He had his arm slung around her, and they both were laughing.”
“I’d love to see it.” Celeste dug through a paper bag. “Where did they live?”
He thought back to what he knew of his grandparents. “They built a small brick ranch in town when they were first married. A few years later, after Granddad made his first dealership profitable, they built a larger house in the country.”
Celeste held up a painted glass ornament shaped like a cone. “Were they happy?”
“Yeah. They were. They built this cabin before I was born. Grandma died when I was young, though, so I don’t remember much about her. But Granddad was great. Lived here as long as I can remember.”
“These boxes are like a time capsule. I wish your grandparents were still around so we could ask them about their first Christmases.” She carefully threaded a hook through a pink felt ballerina. “Sam?”
“Hmm?” He untangled the reindeer. Something in her posture made him think she had more than his grandparents on her mind.
“What do you want your memories to look like?”
He stretched Rudolph apart from Dancer and Prancer. “I’m not sure. Everything kind of got divided pre and post accident for me. Before? I planned on getting my dealership to the point it was consistently making enough money so I could build another one in the next county. My life revolved around my ambition. I really wasn’t looking for anything else.”
“But now?” she asked quietly as she placed the ballerina next to a ceramic kitten on the tree.
He glanced at Parker snuggled into his side, then met Celeste’s rich eyes, full of expectation. How honest should he be?
“More has been on my mind. Family.”
She blinked, a smile lighting up her face.
Sam patted Parker’s head and untangled the final reindeer. “When I’m out of this chair and off these crutches, I’ll put more thought into it. I do know this guy has me wrapped around his pinkie.”
“Did you hear something from your doctor?”
“No, but I’m counting on it.” He was no longer willing to accept a lifelong disability. He’d made considerable strides over the last month. But what if something happened? Another accident? Another slip? “I’ll figure the rest out when I’m on both feet again.”
Furrows dipped in her forehead and the light in her eyes faded.
“What about you?” he asked.
She selected beaded candy canes and disappeared behind the tree. “Today will be a good memory.”
Why did he have the feeling he’d just let her down?
* * *
An hour later the Christmas tree was crammed with a combination of painted glass ornaments and a huge assortment of felt reindeer as well as Mr. and Mrs. Claus—or the Ugly Couple, as Sam called them. Celeste admired the view before slipping into the kitchen to start the coffeemaker. The white lights cast a charming glow, their reflections bouncing off the windows. She didn’t want today to end. She enjoyed existing in this snow globe where Sam looked at her as if she was special. How long would it last?
They’d set Parker, still sleeping, on a folded blanket on the fluffy area rug in the living room. He’d be able to finish his nap safely there. The late afternoon sky was growing darker, and the snow that had fallen all day coated the ground by at least an inch. She peeked out the kitchen window. Maybe two inches. She hoped so.
From the minute Sam rolled into the living room in the wheelchair to accommodate Parker, Celeste had been losing the battle warring in her heart. She was getting too attached to Sam. Dare she admit, even to herself, she was halfway in love with him? And the flirty mood earlier hadn’t helped—not one bit. How could she protect herself from getting hurt when Sam stared at her that way? Or when he casually mentioned he’d been thinking of families?
Did he have any idea how many times she’d caught herself wishing they were a family? That Parker had him as a dad and that she had Sam as a husband?
But then he’d iced the atmosphere with his comment about walking on two feet before thinking about having more. She’d watched enough of Sam’s physical therapy sessions since she’d met him to know he had no guarantees he’d walk unassisted again.
Would he let his physical limitations decide his future?
Like she was one to talk. Her mirror revealed the truth every time she glanced its way. Her life was on hold for the same reasons.
Maybe they were both being selfish.
Nonsense.
Falling in love with him was all wrong, and she was th
e one who would lose. She knew he was terrific, and it was only a few weeks before he’d be back out and about in Lake Endwell every day. He’d see other women, reminding him he had options. Ones that didn’t include a scarred single mom.
Christmas music still played in the background, and the apple pie beckoned. She rummaged through drawers until she found a knife and serving utensils.
“Ready for a break?” She held up the pie as Sam approached on his crutches.
“Definitely. Is that coffee I smell?” His blue eyes twinkled with something she couldn’t decipher, but whatever it was, it overrode her admonitions to keep her feelings in check. He stopped close to her. Closer than usual. He smelled fantastic, all spicy and manly and...
“Coffee. Yes.” She took a tiny step back, but Sam leaned toward her.
“I’d offer to carry it but...”
Was he teasing? She searched his face. He sure was. She forced a lighthearted laugh. “Oh, no. Your hands are full, and we don’t want to lose this pie.”
“True.” He nodded, faking concern with an insincere frown. “Aunt Sally’s pie should never be wasted.”
“Exactly.” She could feel the warmth of his body near hers. He seemed taller. But that might be because she wasn’t usually inches away from him. She had to tilt her chin up to meet his eyes. Which was probably a mistake, considering her mouth dried like tissue paper as soon as she did. Those cheekbones. That face. His bottom lip was fuller than the top lip. But why was she thinking about that?
And the way he looked at her? Made her think he had feelings for her, too.
Shrugging slightly, she sidestepped around him and carried the dessert in her jittery hands to the table. Then she returned to the kitchen for plates and silverware. Her fingers trembled as she opened cupboards. Finally, she wiped her hands down her jeans. “Do you want a slice of pie now or do you want to wait until the coffee is ready?”
“Let’s wait. Come here a minute.” He swung the crutches to the living room, and she followed. He took a seat on the couch and patted the spot next to him. She raised her eyebrows, her skin tingling—what was he up to?—and sat down, hands folded primly in her lap.
