Yuletide Redemption

by Jill Kemerer

  She hoped this book would help her get her head on straight. It was time to overcome her infatuation with Sam, because having him act distant sliced her worse than any knife could.

  The hot tea she’d brewed earlier had cooled, but she sipped it anyhow. Covering her legs with a plush cream blanket, she enjoyed the silence. Parker slept in his bedroom, and she’d tossed all his toys in a bin after putting him to bed, so the living room was neat, tidy. Home. Her home—and it felt like home more than her old apartment. She’d been aimless there, just going with the flow of life, not following her dreams. Her dreams finally felt close, almost possible, living here in this pretty cabin on the lake.

  Yawning, she reached for the book. Lord, please open my heart to what I need to hear tonight.

  Two pages in, she hopped up and scurried to her small desk for a notebook. She wanted to remember the words, save them for when she had doubts. She returned, jotting notes as she studied the chapter. When she finished, she flipped back to review what she’d written.

  When life doesn’t pan out the way we imagined, we often blame ourselves. Life is full of surprises, some good, some bad. Accept them. Give thanks for them. Embrace the good surprises, and pray through the bad ones.

  Pray through the bad? Did that imply the bad surprises would eventually end? She closed the notebook and clutched it to her chest.

  God, please get me through the next week until my appointment. These scars were a bad surprise. Please change the doctor’s mind. I want my old face back.

  Her stomach coiled as she stared at the multicolored lights twinkling from the small tree she’d decorated and set up out of Parker’s reach. Christmas—the time of hope.

  Prayers were full of hope, too, so why didn’t her prayer make her feel hopeful?

  Random impressions flitted through her mind. Her mom’s smile when she’d tucked Celeste’s hair behind her ear on Thanksgiving. Dad’s big hugs, the way he supported her decisions. The look in Sam’s eyes when he called her beautiful.

  Something niggled, and she didn’t want to delve any deeper, but she couldn’t deny reality—her prayer about having her old face back didn’t leave her reassured. Maybe she needed to pray harder.

  Her cell phone rang, shaking her out of her thoughts. She checked the caller, answering as soon as she saw Sam’s name pop up.

  “Hey, sorry to call so late.” His voice reminded her of warm chocolate sauce, rich and decadent.

  “I wasn’t sleeping.” Why did she sound like a chipmunk? She cleared her throat. “What’s up?”

  “I wanted to apologize for the bad mood I’ve been in. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

  He wasn’t mad at her. She didn’t fight the smile spreading across her face.

  “Also I was wondering if you’re free Friday night,” he asked. “I want to take you out. On a date. We could get something to eat, go Christmas shopping or to a movie—whatever you want. Bryan and Jade will watch Parker for us, if you’re okay with that.”

  He was asking her on a date—a real date!

  “I would love to go. How about a toy store? I need to buy Parker’s presents. I know what I want to get him, but I haven’t had a chance to get out and purchase them.”

  “Sounds good. I’d say I would pick you up around six thirty, but you’ll have to pick me up instead.”

  She laughed. “No problem. Six thirty it is.”

  That niggling doubt from earlier was nothing. She’d wanted a hopeful feeling, and Sam’s call had more than accomplished it. She’d keep praying. The appointment would be a good surprise. It had to be.

  Chapter Ten

  Sam couldn’t take his eyes off Celeste Friday night. She looked incredible in a deep red sweater, dark jeans and stylish boots. Her dark brown hair hung straight and shiny over her shoulders, and she wore eye makeup and red lipstick. They’d decided on an Italian restaurant, and after waiting thirty minutes for a table, they were finally sitting across from each other. With the exception of a few crying children, festive conversations filled the air. The right atmosphere to explore their relationship. Find out how she felt about some of the things on his mind.

  The orders had been placed, and the salads had arrived. And his nerves were tighter than the compression sleeve he’d worn on his leg for months.

  “How did Parker do last night?” Sam asked. “Are they still using him as baby Jesus?”

  Celeste’s smile took his breath away. Literally. An oxygen tank might be necessary.

  “He did great. He was pretty tired, so Shelby kept him on her lap, and he didn’t make a peep.”

  “Think he’ll sit still on Christmas Eve?”

  She shrugged, swirling her water with the straw. “I don’t know. I hope so for Grandma Pearl’s sake. I want her to be surprised, not embarrassed. I also don’t want everyone thinking I’m a bad mom.”

  “You’re a great mom.” He wouldn’t get a better lead-in than that. He leaned in. “Ever think about having more kids?”

  She blinked, startled. “Sometimes.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She fidgeted with her napkin. “I feel as if I’m in a grace period. This time in Lake Endwell—in Claire’s cabin—has been wonderful, but it can’t last forever.”

  “Why not?” He wasn’t fool enough to believe it could, either, but why did she feel that way?

  “It’s not reality. A lot of my life is up in the air.”

  “I’m not following you.” He pulled his shoulders back. Up in the air? Was she making plans he didn’t know about?

  “Well, a lot depends on my appointment this Thursday. If I hear good news, I’d like to start the process to get certified as a history teacher.”

  “What does your appointment have to do with that?”

  Her chin dipped and her hair slid forward. “Everything. If I don’t have scar reduction surgery, I don’t see teaching in my future.”

  “You’d let that get in the way of your dream?”

  “Well, that is a big deal to me.” She straightened, one eyebrow raised. “I’m not up for the scrutiny. I can already guess the nickname the students would make up. ‘Hey, there goes Scarface.’”

  “They’ll have a nickname for you no matter what. Kids always do. They would probably call me Limpy McGee.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ll pass.” She tossed the crumpled napkin on the table. “No, thank you.”

  “So, you’ll keep doing your virtual assisting. No need for everything to change.”

  “Everything is changing soon, Sam. You know it. I know it.”

  He frowned. He did know it. Felt the change coming—couldn’t deny it. The four walls of his life were shrinking in on him.

  “You and I—we don’t have to change.” He waved his hand between them.

  The corner of her mouth tweaked up. “I hope not, but you’ll be back at work, and you’ll see everything you missed. Life will be normal for you again.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “What? You’ll see everything you missed? Or life will be normal again?”

  “Both. I will see everything I missed, and it will remind me I’ll always miss some of it. Life doesn’t really go back to normal. Not for me.”

  “Me, neither.”

  They didn’t speak for a while. The waiter delivered steaming plates of pasta and a basket of bread, but they didn’t dig in.

  “Celeste? What kind of dad would Josh have been?”

  “That’s a tough question. He never met Parker. Never was around little kids that I can remember. I think he would have been wonderful. Maybe not the guy who volunteers to change a diaper, but he would have taught Parker how to ride a bike, and he would have played catch with him.” Celeste twirled her fork in her pasta.

  Her words didn
’t reassure him. Sam might not ever be able to teach a kid how to ride a bike or play catch with him.

  “Do you ever worry about Parker not having a man in his life? I mean, you’re the one raising him. You’re the biggest impact on his upbringing.”

  “I do worry. In fact, I feel terrible about it. I want him to have a father.” She sighed. “My two best friends. Gone. Neither will know their son.”

  “That’s why, when the time comes, Parker needs a dad who loves him.” He selected a bread stick.

  “I’m not thinking about any of that right now.” Celeste blinked rapidly, her face stricken. “It’s not as if I can pick up a dad in aisle six of the grocery store.”

  She wasn’t thinking about any of that? “It’s none of my business.”

  “I’m doing the best I can. Besides, no one is knocking down my door, desperate to be Parker’s father.”

  What if someone did start knocking down her door? Someone other than him? “I’m not trying to make you mad. It’s just, well, he’s going to need a man in his life.”

  Celeste’s jaw tightened. “I’m not going to date someone so Parker can have a father. I can’t. I won’t. I want more from marriage. And Parker has a grandpa who loves him very much. Until I find a man who loves both Parker and me with his whole heart, my dad will have to do.” She shoved her chair back and marched in the direction of the restrooms.

  Real smooth, Sheffield.

  Why had he even brought the subject up? It wasn’t as if he was in a position to be the man Parker or Celeste needed. Had he given her the impression he wanted her to find someone else?

  He’d go after her, but the crutches...

  Same old excuses. He hoisted himself to his feet and swung his way to the restroom hall. Felt stupid as a mom and two little girls passed him.

  He waited.

  Finally, Celeste opened the door.

  “I’m sorry.” Propping the right crutch against the wall, he took her hand and pulled her into a hug. She set her cheek on his shoulder. Her hair smelled flowery. He didn’t care that they were in a restroom hallway in a crowded restaurant or that he was balancing on one foot.

  She was in his arms. He stroked her hair with his free hand.

  Celeste looked up at him. “Ever since our kiss last weekend, you’ve been giving me mixed signals.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. Let’s talk about this at the table.” They returned to their seats, and Sam waited for her to get comfortable. “I care about Parker. I want him to have a great life.”

  “I feel the same. I’m trying to give him one.”

  “I know. You’re a terrific mother.” The appreciation glowing in her face made him forget what he was going to say next.

  Celeste tilted her head, watching his reaction. “You want kids, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I do.”

  “You’ll be a great dad.”

  Her confidence touched him. “Maybe someday. I can barely sign my name when I stand with these things—certainly can’t change a diaper or carry a baby in my condition.”

  “You handle Parker pretty good now.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not the same. I mean, he’s at my house. I want to take my kids to the soccer fields, throw them up in the air, put them on my shoulders.”

  “You can be a good dad and not do any of those things. I’d rather have a dad who loves me and never carries me on his shoulders than one who doesn’t care.”

  He inwardly frowned. Yes, he could be a dad from a wheelchair or crutches, but was that fair to Parker? Or Celeste? Not really. Celeste had so many problems. He wanted to provide solutions for her, not be one more problem. Maybe he’d been asking the wrong questions.

  Trouble was, he wasn’t ready to ask the right ones.

  * * *

  Later that evening, Celeste drove the minivan out of the mall parking lot and headed south to Lake Endwell. Stars dotted the black sky. What a beautiful night. Nothing could ruin this time with Sam. Thankfully, it wasn’t snowing. “I still can’t believe how many gifts you bought.”

  “What can I say? Big family.” Even in the dim light, his smile sent sugarplums and Christmas wishes down to her boots.

  The night had surprised and confused her, but after toy shopping for Parker, she and Sam were back to comfortable. She still wasn’t completely sure why Sam had hounded her about dads during dinner, but at least they were talking again. And the darted glances Sam sent her all evening gave her the impression he liked her as much as she liked him.

  He turned the radio on, flipping through the channels twice. “I guess we can’t avoid Christmas music.”

  “Do you want to?”

  “Nah. I love Christmas. What’s your favorite song?”

  She bit her lip as she thought about it. “Fast or slow?”

  “Give me both.”

  “I love ‘O Holy Night.’ Gives me goose bumps every time I hear it. I’ve also always really liked ‘Baby, It’s Cold Outside.’”

  He sang the opening line. She added the next one. They both laughed.

  “What about you?” she asked. “What are your faves?”

  “When I was a kid, I thought ‘Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer’ was the funniest thing I’d ever heard. Drove my family nuts singing it all the time. I still like it.”

  “Me, too.” She grinned.

  “Would it be too cliché to admit ‘Silent Night! Holy Night!’ is another of my favorites?” He shifted to face her, and she had to fight to keep her eyes on the road.

  “Of course not. It’s beautiful. Classic. Everything Christmas should be.”

  The opening strains of “Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer” played on the radio. Sam began belting out the lyrics. “Come on, Celeste, join in.”

  He sang off-key and loud, but his exuberance infected her, so she sang, too. When the song ended, she laughed, breathless.

  “A Holly Jolly Christmas” came on, and Sam sang in a ridiculously low voice.

  Her mind blanked. Brandy’s goofy face as they sang in the car last December swirled before her.

  A night like this. With Christmas presents in the trunk.

  Joy-filled hearts.

  Silly Christmas songs.

  Taken from her, ripped from her.

  Celeste’s hands shook, her throat constricting, and she slowed, stopping the minivan on the side of the deserted country road. Her limbs felt ice-cold.

  “What’s wrong?” Sam craned his neck to see out her window, then his. “Is it the van?”

  All she could do was give her head a tiny shake. A heavy sensation weighed her down like she’d been filled with concrete and it was hardening up.

  “Celeste?” Sam’s voice sounded far away...and worried. He shook her arm. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He turned off the radio and grabbed his cell phone.

  As soon as the music was cut, she snapped out of it. Sucked in a huge breath. Faced Sam.

  “I don’t know what happened, Sam. I’m sorry. I just... I heard the song and my whole body changed. I can’t explain it. It was the same song we were singing when my car crashed last year.” Her teeth chattered as a shiver overtook her. “This...this feels familiar in a terrible way.”

  “Hey...” He unbuckled his seat belt and scooted to her. Sneaked his hand behind her back and awkwardly pulled her to him with the armrests between them. He kissed her temple. “We’re safe. Nothing is going to happen right now.”

  “You don’t know that.” She sniffed, easing back, but not far enough for him to drop his hand.

  “We’re safe.”

  “Brandy and I thought we were safe last year. We weren’t. We’re never safe. Never.”

  Sam inhaled, straightening his spine. “You’re right. That was a stupid thing to say.”

/>   Regret at her outburst made her sit back. She didn’t know what to think, what to do. She couldn’t really say she was afraid to drive or that she believed she and Sam would be in a crash tonight. Something else had forced her to the side of the road.

  Fear. But not fear of dying.

  Fear of losing...again.

  She couldn’t handle the thought of losing Sam. She’d lost Brandy. And Josh.

  Celeste exhaled loudly, avoiding looking at Sam. “Let’s go home.”

  “Wait.” He touched the back of her hand. “Stay here a minute. I’m not in a hurry.”

  Her throat felt as if she’d swallowed acid. She brought her hands to her face, closing her eyes. She was acting like an idiot—a drama queen. Why was she so worked up? She’d driven hundreds of times since the accident. This wasn’t her first go-round in a vehicle with Sam, either.

  And he wasn’t hers to lose.

  God, I need You. I don’t know what to pray for, but I need You.

  “You’ve faced your fears, Celeste. Moved. Figured out a new job. Driven past the crash site. I haven’t even gone back to my dealership.” Sam’s voice soothed her agitation. “How do you do it? Like tonight, you’re driving. It’s almost the anniversary of the accident, but you got the courage to go out there.”

  “Courage?” She barked a dry laugh. “This isn’t courageous. My hands are still shaking.”

  “But you’re here.” He faced her again, his face intense in the dim light.

  Why was she here? How could she answer him?

  “I guess I didn’t consider the similarities between tonight and last year. Maybe I should have.”

  “You still would have come,” he said. “You’re a fighter.”

  “I’m no fighter. I’m more of a drifter. Responding to what life gives me.”

  “That’s not true.”

  She wanted to believe him, but her track record showed the truth. She’d never had the courage—even before the accident—to even decide what her dreams were, let alone pursue them. If she had, she’d have been teaching history all this time instead of working at dead-end jobs.