Yuletide Redemption

by Jill Kemerer

  So what did she want now?

  She covered Sam’s hand with hers. I don’t want to lose you, Sam. But I don’t know what to do about it.

  His thumb brushed hers. He pulled her into a hug, and she rested her cheek on his shoulder. A strong man to lean on—her dream guy come true.

  Love. Commitment. A family.

  But what if he wasn’t ready for all that?

  Fighting wasn’t her strong suit, and right now her energy was drained. Empty. It was easier to drift along, taking what life gave.

  She hoped she wouldn’t have to fight for all the things she still wanted, most of all, him.

  She didn’t know if she had enough fight in her. She needed something easy right now.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sunday morning after church, Sam shoveled a forkful of hash browns into his mouth at Pat’s Diner. Dad, chugging coffee and eyeing a piece of bacon, sat across from him. The sermon this morning had brought up some questions. About work. About Celeste. About his faith.

  Maybe Dad could help.

  “I’m starting to see why you haven’t been out much.” Dad clunked his coffee cup on the table. “Is everyone always this bad?”

  Sam finished chewing and grinned. “Worse. This is actually light compared to what Celeste and I deal with at the grocery store.”

  Dad shook his head. “It’s not like you were abducted by aliens. You were in an accident. And why did the Swanson kid ask if you saw a bright light?”

  Sam shrugged, slurping his coffee. “You know his mom. Probably took him to see one of those I-died-and-went-to-heaven movies. It’s all right. No harm done.”

  “It’s annoying.”

  “I’ve gotten used to it.” Sam soaked in the atmosphere. It was good to be back here. Pat’s Diner had been a staple in his life for as long as he could remember. The red vinyl seats of the booth squeaked with each movement. Conversation hummed around them. Outside the large window, snow fell in big flakes over the sidewalk. Trees had been strung with lights for the big parade Saturday.

  “Dr. Stepmeyer wants me to talk to Dr. Curtis before I go back to work.” Sam flexed his right knee slightly.

  “I figured that was a given.”

  “Yeah, well, I hadn’t been planning on it.”

  “You should.” Dad bit into the bacon.

  “Nah, I’m ready.”

  Dad paused midchew and gave him the look, the one only his dad could give.

  Twenty-seven and Sam still squirmed at that look. He diverted his attention to the stack of pancakes in front of him. After Celeste had dropped him off Friday night, he’d spent hours sitting in the living room with just the Christmas tree lights on. He’d been thinking. About Celeste and how brave she was. About how he’d been avoiding life instead of meeting it face-on the way she did.

  He was ready. Ready for work. Ready for more.

  And he needed to figure out today’s sermon.

  “Dad, did you ever feel that God didn’t care about you?” Sam focused on Dad’s reaction.

  He set his mug down gently this time. Rubbed his chin. “I’m not going to lie. Yes. I felt that way for a long time.”

  “After Mom died?”

  “No—before.”

  Sam sputtered, not expecting those words. “What? Why?”

  Dad slid his plate to the side and clasped his hands to rest on the table. “I’m not proud of this, so I hope you don’t judge me too hard.”

  His dad? Less than perfect? Not possible.

  “I won’t. I couldn’t. You’re... Just tell me.”

  “Your mom and I married pretty young. I was going to college to be an architect. Before either of us knew it, she was pregnant with Tom.”

  Sam nodded, sipping his coffee.

  “I couldn’t support her and a family and go to college for two more years, so I dropped out. Went to work for my dad.”

  Sam had always known Dad hadn’t finished college, but he’d never really thought about the circumstances.

  “I hated it at first. Loved Tom and your mother, but I resented that my dreams had to die. I stopped going to church. I told myself God didn’t care or He would have made a way for me to finish school.”

  “What changed your mind? What brought you back to church?”

  Dad smiled. “Your mother. She was something.” He stared out the window, a faraway look in his eyes. “When Tom started walking, I decided enough was enough. I was going back to college and finishing my degree. It’s not that I hated working for my dad—I didn’t mind, not really—but I wanted my way. Wanted life to be my way. So I gathered my courage and marched into our little brick house after work one night, ready to tell your mother I was quitting my job and finishing school.”

  “Did she get mad or something?” Sam tried to picture them, but he couldn’t. The only memories he had of his mom weren’t his—just stories and photographs passed down from his siblings.

  “No. She was standing over the stove, crying her eyes out.” His face fell. “She seemed so devastated. I forgot everything, just rushed over and took her into my arms. I was scared, I’ll tell you that.”

  “Why was she crying?”

  The most tender expression Sam had ever seen spread across Dad’s face. “She handed me a pregnancy test. We were having another baby.”

  Sam was taken aback. “Didn’t she want one?”

  “Let me finish the story.” Dad lifted his finger. “When she calmed down enough to speak, she told me she knew I was miserable. She’d been scrimping on groceries and expenses so I could go back to school. She opened a cupboard and pulled down a coffee can. Handed it to me, saying, ‘There’s sixty-seven dollars in here. I thought we could get by if you went back to school, but with another baby on the way...’”

  Sam’s heart tugged at his mom’s generosity. She must have loved Dad very much.

  “In that moment, I changed. I completely changed. I’d been thinking about me and what I wanted, not realizing how blessed I was to have her love and her children. I silently asked God to forgive me. Wrapped her in my arms and told her I was opening my own dealership—my dad had wanted me to anyhow—and she wouldn’t have to worry about money. It took some convincing, but she eventually believed me.”

  “Should she have?” The words were out before Sam could think about them. But he wanted to know—had Dad meant those words?

  “Yes.” He leveled an honest stare at Sam. “She absolutely should have believed me, because I meant it. Sheffield Auto wasn’t my dream, at least not then, but she was. And I knew I had to embrace her and our growing family or we’d both be miserable. I’m proud of my years with our company, and God gave me a second chance at a career of my choosing when he sent Reed to Lake Endwell. I love being his superintendent. Building houses is even better than designing them.”

  Sam hadn’t realized Dad had sacrificed so much for them.

  “I’ve been mad at God for not healing me.” Just saying those words twisted Sam’s gut.

  “We’re all thankful you’re alive. You don’t know how bad it was for all of us the night of your accident. I’ve never been more scared in my life.”

  There was truth in those words, Sam knew it. But...

  “You’re my son, Sam. I love you. I couldn’t handle losing you. I still can’t. So you can be mad at whomever you want, including God, but every day I praise Him for keeping you here. If you can’t praise Him for saving you, maybe you can thank Him for answering my prayer. Because I’d be a shell of a man if I’d have lost you, too.”

  Emotion welled in Sam’s chest, and he had to bow his head. “I never really thought about how my accident affected you.”

  “It’s okay. I didn’t think about how my resentment affected your mom. But when I did...” Dad sipped his coffee.
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  “You put her first.”

  “Love will do that to you.”

  “Thanks for telling me this, Dad.”

  “I love you. Never forget it.”

  He wouldn’t. Couldn’t. He’d taken his family for granted, been caught up in his own problems.

  “I love you, too, Dad.”

  Well, God, I’m doing like Dad said—Thank You for answering his prayer and saving me. I’m not thrilled about my disabilities, but I’m thankful to be here.

  Another thought came uninvited.

  Maybe Sam was too focused on wanting his way, just like Dad had been too focused years ago.

  A wave of guilt hit him. He kept thinking about himself. He’d taken Celeste out the other night, made her uncomfortable with his intrusive comments about Parker needing a dad and hadn’t put two and two together about her accident until it was too late and she was crying at the side of the road. He counted on his leg healing, but even then he might not be the guy she needed.

  If he could just tell that to his heart...

  * * *

  “This blanket is so soft, dear.” Grandma Pearl beamed. A quiet Sunday afternoon, perfect for Celeste to visit the assisted living complex and drop off an early Christmas present. “How did you know I can never get warm enough?”

  “I’m glad you like it. It’s hard to stay warm this time of year.” Celeste turned the page of the storybook for Parker, sitting on her lap. Her heart broke a little at how frail Grandma Pearl looked lately. “Are you feeling okay? Want me to get you some tea?”

  “I’m better. Had a cold last week. I’m happy watching Parker. He’s a smart one, isn’t he?”

  “He is. Takes after Brandy.”

  “He’s got a good mama teaching him.”

  Celeste didn’t respond. She’d made her peace with Parker calling her Mama but she still wished his real mama was here. Grandma Pearl wouldn’t be around forever, either. Why did people have to die?

  “One of my friends from church stopped by yesterday.” Grandma Pearl unfolded the blanket and smoothed it over her lap. “She told me she saw you with a young man. Tell me about him.”

  Here we go. What could she say? “Um, yes, Sam is the man I mentioned on Thanksgiving. The one who lives next door.”

  “Sam. That’s a lovely name. I knew a Sam way back when.”

  She nodded, hoping Grandma Pearl would hop right back on memory lane so Celeste wouldn’t have to talk about him.

  “Is he a keeper?”

  “Um, well...”

  “Is he a Christian?”

  “Yes.”

  “For years my Stanley never wanted to go to church with me. I could barely get him to the Christmas service, even when our Joanie—that’s Brandy’s mom, you know—sang with her Sunday school class. One year—Joanie must have been seven or eight—she looked at me and told me she wasn’t going to church anymore.”

  Celeste fought back a smile.

  “Well, I didn’t know what to do. Joanie had always been such a good girl. I told her she most certainly was going to church, and she said, ‘Daddy never goes, so I’m not going, either.’”

  She bit her lower lip.

  “I didn’t have time to pray on it, because Stanley stormed into the room and said we were all going to church. And he did. From then on, we went as a family. He might not have ever showed it much, but he was a God-fearing man. I was blessed to be married to him.”

  Parker climbed off Celeste’s lap and toddled over to Grandma Pearl’s. “If your legs hurt, you don’t have to hold him...”

  “Nonsense. I want nothing more than to hold this precious baby in my arms. We’re the last ones of the family. Joanie died when Brandy was a teenager. Stanley passed a few years later. And Brandy...” Her eyes welled with tears. She gently brushed them away. “Well, I’m thankful this sweet boy will carry on. A little part of me, a little part of Stanley. Joanie and Brandy. He’s got a bit of all of us.”

  It was true. Celeste saw glimpses of Brandy in the way he held his head when deep in thought. And she saw Josh in Parker’s big smile.

  “Grandma Pearl?”

  “What, dear?”

  “Do you ever worry about Parker? I mean, do you worry about me raising him?”

  Grandma Pearl’s papery cheeks lifted as she smiled. “No. I’m thankful you’re raising him. I know you’ll love him the way Brandy would. The only time I fret is when I think of his father.”

  “Josh?”

  “No. The man you’ll marry someday. I worry he won’t love Parker the way he would his own child. But whenever I worry, I give it to God. He’s gotten me through a lot of losses. I trust He’ll lead you to the right man.”

  “You pray for me?” Celeste was touched.

  “Of course I do. I pray for Parker and for you and for the man who will complete your family. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” Celeste looked away, emotional at her thoughtfulness.

  “Tell me more about this Sam who lives next door. Think he might be the one?”

  Heat climbed her neck. “I’d like him to be, but I don’t know.”

  “What don’t you know?”

  “He’s not ready for a family.”

  Her face fell. “That’s too bad, dear. I was hoping for your sake and mine he would like Parker.”

  “I think he loves Parker. It’s just...well, he was in a bad accident, and his leg might never heal all the way.”

  “Does that bother you?”

  “No. Not at all. He’s wonderful with Parker, and I like him a lot.”

  “So he’s nervous about his leg.”

  That about summed it up.

  Celeste shrugged. “I’m nervous, too.” Parker had relaxed on Grandma Pearl’s lap and rubbed his eyes. Celeste handed him a sippy cup.

  “What are you nervous about?”

  Celeste pointed at her forehead and her cheek.

  “The scars? They could never take away from your beauty. Your soul shines through. That’s the real beauty, you know.”

  She wished the sweet woman was right. She stood and bent over Grandma Pearl to give her a hug. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too, dear.” She kissed the top of Parker’s head. “The right man for you will never think less of you because of your scars. He’ll see the best in you. Always.”

  Sam had never acted like her scars were an issue. He’d even called her beautiful. But maybe he’d been trying to make her comfortable. He might not have really meant it.

  Four more days and she’d have a verdict about her face.

  Maybe it wouldn’t matter if Sam meant it or not. With more surgery, she’d be the girl she used to be. Except better. After her face healed, she was going to be the woman she should have been all along.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Are you sure you don’t want us to come with you?” Sam stood next to Celeste as she set the diaper bag on his table Thursday morning. He wanted to ease her worry about today’s doctor’s appointment, but how could he? Celeste’s pale face looked exhausted. Had she gotten any sleep last night?

  “No, thank you.” She smoothed her hair behind her ear. “Don’t take this personally, but I’d rather go alone.”

  He propped a crutch against the table and took her hand. Cold. She must be nervous. “I understand.”

  “It’s just a consultation.”

  With most of his weight on his left leg, Sam drew her closer and touched her chin directly below her lips. She flinched. Was it him? “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not you... It’s the nerve ending there. Whenever I touch that spot, it stings.”

  He dropped his hand to his side and his attention to the floor. He’d seen her smart at times when she touched her face. He
should have remembered.

  “Are you sure you can handle him for a few hours?” Celeste searched the room, settling her gaze on Parker banging a plastic hammer against Sam’s coffee table.

  Sam had asked himself the same thing. But he’d never had a problem watching Parker while Celeste ran, and what was another hour? He could always use the wheelchair if he needed both hands to change a diaper or pick Parker up.

  “I’ve got this. And Aunt Sally is home.” Sam had talked to his aunt last night, and she’d assured him she’d be home if he needed her. “She lives two miles away. If I have any trouble, she’ll be here at the snap of my fingers.”

  “Okay. I’d better get going.” Celeste pivoted to leave. “Don’t want to be late.”

  “Celeste?” He prepared to follow her. He had so many things he wanted to say. She didn’t need to worry. Surgery or no surgery, she was stunning, breathtaking. The woman who had made him want to live again. The one he owed so much to, the only woman he had eyes for. The one he’d told himself was off-limits. Who deserved more in a man than he could give. But the words dried up before he could say them. “Call me when the appointment is over.”

  She nodded and left.

  Sunshine spilled to the deck. The weatherman had announced a high of thirty-four degrees Fahrenheit today. Fitting, since Christmas was next week. He hoped the parade on Saturday would be warmer.

  He’d been anticipating the parade ever since the day he’d offered to take Celeste. And it was almost here. He wouldn’t even need a wheelchair for the event. For some reason getting around town on crutches didn’t bother him the way the wheelchair did. She’d told him her parents were babysitting Parker for the day, so it would be just the two of them.

  “Dada.” Parker pointed at Sam.

  His heart stopped beating. Had Parker called him...?

  “Dada.” Parker ran to Sam and stretched his arms up.

  Emotion swelled, puffing Sam’s chest out at the wonder of those two syllables.

  What if he was Parker’s daddy?

  That would mean... He gulped. Taking his relationship with Celeste to a level he’d refused to consider up to this point.