Yuletide Redemption

by Jill Kemerer

  “Parker Monroe,” a nurse called.

  Celeste gave Sally a shaky smile. “We’ll be back. Please let me know as soon as you hear anything from Sam.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll shoot you a text if I get any news.”

  “Thank you.”

  She and Parker followed a nurse to an examination room. Forty-five minutes later, Parker was given the all clear, and Celeste held instructions about warning signs after a head injury. He started fussing, so she bought a package of crackers from a vending machine before returning to where Sally sat.

  “He’s being released.” Sally slid her phone into her purse as Celeste approached. “He’ll be right down.”

  Overcome with relief, Celeste fell into a chair, ripped open the crackers and handed the bag to Parker. “He must be okay if they’re releasing him.”

  “Praise the good Lord.” Sally closed her eyes a moment. “That boy will be the death of me. I’ve never worried about anyone as much as I have him the last eighteen months.”

  “I know what you mean. He’s pretty special.”

  “He is.” Sally pushed herself up from the chair, her eyes suspiciously watery. “I’m going to find a pop machine and get my sugar and caffeine on. Be right back.”

  Celeste smoothed Parker’s hair from his forehead as Sally disappeared. What a day. She still hadn’t processed her own doctor’s visit, and here she was, dealing with Parker’s and wondering how Sam had fared.

  She glanced down the hall. Someone in scrubs pushed Sam in a wheelchair. Her heart did a backflip. The grim expression on his face worried her, though. Had he gotten terrible news? Was he in pain?

  She carried Parker, munching on his snack, toward him. Sam said something to the man pushing him, and the man patted his shoulder then left. Sam wheeled himself the rest of the way.

  “Dada!” Parker squirmed, twisting so both arms reached for Sam. She caught her breath. Had Parker just called Sam Dad? It sounded so right.

  But Sam didn’t look happy. He didn’t take Parker in his arms. In fact, his face drained of color.

  “Did they run tests?” Sam asked. “Is Parker going to be okay?”

  “He’ll be fine.” She patted her purse. “I have a list of things to watch for, but I’m more worried about you. Are you all right?”

  He nodded curtly.

  “What did the doctor say?” She gestured to his leg, but he didn’t meet her eyes.

  “Nothing I didn’t already know.”

  His dead tone and the way his gaze locked to the wall raised the hair on her arms.

  “Tell me what’s wrong.” She touched his hand. He flinched, snatching it back.

  “Nothing’s wrong. How did your appointment go?” His question had no feeling behind it.

  She wanted to lie, to tell him it went great, that a few months from now he’d see her at her best, scar-free. But this was Sam. He’d become her safe place. The man she could be honest with, the one who made her feel comfortable, happy again.

  “The doctor won’t do more surgery.” All her hopes leaked out at each word. Please let this not change anything. Let me be wrong. Maybe living with my scars isn’t as bad as I thought.

  The muscle in his cheek ticked. “So, lousy news all around.”

  He still wouldn’t make eye contact. And his reaction? Confusing.

  What had she expected? Comfort. A hug. Maybe even, in my wildest dreams, for him to say, “It doesn’t matter. You’re flawless in my eyes.”

  But she wasn’t flawless. Would never be flawless.

  Sam rubbed his thigh where the brace ended. “I shouldn’t have babysat Parker. I won’t make that mistake again. And don’t worry—I’ll find someone else to drive me to my appointments.”

  Her head reeled. Find someone else? Why? Had he been banking on her being scar-free, too? Before her head exploded with worries, she inhaled. No sense guessing. She’d ask him instead.

  “Why would you find someone else to drive you?”

  “I was forcing something.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I wanted my life to be different.” He put his fist to his lips, turning his head to the side. “I was wrong. I accept that.”

  Was he speaking in some weird code? She tried to decipher his words, his attitude. “Is this about my scars or your leg?”

  He shrugged. “Both, I guess. We want to erase our accidents, but we can’t.”

  Both. Her scars were a factor.

  “What aren’t you saying?” Her voice rose, sounded screechy to her ears. “Why now? You reinjured your leg, didn’t you? Is it permanent?”

  “This isn’t about my leg.” He finally met her eyes. “It’s about you. And me. And reality.”

  If it wasn’t his leg, it must be her scars. She had the sensation ice was freezing her body from her toes up her torso to her neck and head. “What changed?”

  “Nothing. And that’s the problem. I thought my situation had changed, but it didn’t. If we don’t put an end to this now, we’ll end up hurt.”

  Too late. She was in too deep.

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “I thought we had something...”

  “I’m sorry if I led you on.”

  Led her on? Her throat was closing in. She fought for breath. Jostled Parker as she willed her legs to support her.

  “I see,” she said. “So you don’t want me around at all, is that it? You don’t need my help. What about the parade?”

  He shook his head, his lips drawing together tightly, virtually disappearing. “It’s for the best.”

  The words were a verbal slap to the face. Her heartbeat slowed, her blood turning to sludge. He’d obviously made up his mind. They—whatever they were—no longer existed. He didn’t want her.

  There was nothing left to do but leave.

  * * *

  “I suppose you heard all that?” Sam yanked the wheels to get through the hospital hallway as quickly as possible. Aunt Sally half jogged at his side. He’d done the right thing. Let Celeste go. She could find someone worthy of her, someone who would protect her and Parker.

  Given his limitations, it was a crime to chain her to him. He would just bring more problems to her life. Celeste’s life was full of problems already.

  If he could get his heart to listen... It was clenching, bleeding, wringing itself into a tiny ball of nothing.

  He’d had it all for a brief moment. Hope. The hope of the life he wanted. But reality collided with fantasy, and it was over.

  “I tried to give you two some privacy, but your body language said it all.” Aunt Sally made a clucking sound. “I don’t know what is going on with you, but I don’t like this.”

  “You don’t know anything about it.”

  “I know Celeste has the patience of Mother Teresa. She’s good for you. She was worried, and from the look on her face when she hightailed it out of here, I’d say you just broke her heart.”

  “I did her a favor.” The cold air smacked his cheeks as he rolled onto the sidewalk. He stopped near the side of the entrance where he could wait for Aunt Sally to drive the car around. “I want to go home.”

  “Well, too bad, Sam.” Flames shot from her eyes as she planted her hands on her hips directly in front of him. “You’ve gotten your way ever since the accident, and you know what? Today you don’t get to have your way. You’re going to listen to me.”

  “Gotten my way? Are you crazy?” He clenched his hands into fists. “Nothing in the last eighteen months has been my choice.”

  “Yes, it has.” She bent over, jabbing her index finger into his chest. “Your recovery has been all your way. We’ve let you be, only stopping by when you let us, trying to make it as easy as possible for you to get back to life—”

>   “I don’t have a life!”

  Her mouth dropped open, and she drew back, shaking her head. “You have a life. If you can’t see it, there’s no hope for you. What happened in here, Sam?” She pointed to her heart, her eyes glistening. “Why won’t you let anyone in?”

  “I did!” He searched her eyes. Tried to stuff down his emotions and failed. “I let her down. I wanted to be the man she needed, and instead, I put Parker in danger.”

  “Pshaw.” She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Parker tripped and fell. He’ll have many more falls in his life, with or without you watching him.”

  “You don’t understand.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I couldn’t get to him. He crawled under the Christmas tree. I couldn’t reach in and grab him. I couldn’t keep him safe.”

  “Sam, when your cousin Braedon was two, I was helping Joe fix the sink. Braedon was sitting on the couch, watching Sesame Street, and I turned my back for a minute. I didn’t hear him and got worried. I found him on his bedroom floor, choking on something. I put him over my knees and whacked his back to try to dislodge it. Nothing came out. Fear buzzed through me, and I prayed, frantically begging God to save him. I yelled for Joe, and he raced in there, took one look at Braedon and stuck his finger down his little throat. Braedon threw up, and there in the middle was a quarter. I couldn’t keep my baby safe, either. But it didn’t stop me from trying.”

  “It’s not the same.”

  “Sure it is.”

  “He was your son. Of course you kept trying. What choice did you have?”

  “The same one you could have, Sam.” She patted his cheek. “I have the feeling Celeste cares for you. And if I’m not mistaken, you feel the same about her and Parker. You’re not in control of the universe. God is. Let Him protect your loved ones. Don’t let Celeste slip away.”

  He not only was letting her slip away, he’d been the one to push her out the door.

  “God hasn’t done a very good job of protecting.” The instant it was out of his mouth, shame filled him. And anger—at himself. He was tired of bottling so much anger.

  “Still blaming God?” She inclined her head. “If He’s not good at protecting, why is Parker on his way home with his mom as we speak? Why are you still here, for that matter? Do you know how close you were to death when the boat hit you?” She sighed. “I’m going to get the car. While I’m gone, you’d best think about the worm chewing a hole in your heart. Slay it soon, or it’ll steal the best part of you.”

  She spun on her heel and marched her tight jeans and purple running shoes down the sidewalk and out of his sight.

  Every word she said came back to him, stabbing like ice picks. He blew out a breath, watching it puff in front of his face before disappearing. He shivered under his sweater.

  There was a worm eating his heart. But he didn’t know how to slay it. Ever since meeting Celeste, he’d been able to keep it at bay, but today it had won.

  How could he slay what he couldn’t define?

  Fear.

  Fear? Fear of what?

  I need her. I’m afraid of needing her. I can survive without walking, but if I give her my heart, if I trust God the way Aunt Sally said, I might not survive another blow. What if God takes her from me?

  The fear he lived with now was easier than the fear he’d take on if he committed to Celeste and Parker. The earth would keep spinning if anything happened to him, but his world would collapse into a pile of rubble if he married Celeste and lost her or Parker.

  The only way to deal with the worm was to give it a corner to live in.

  And to keep those closest to him out.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Celeste wrapped her hands around a mug of hot cocoa and drew her legs under her body later that evening. After leaving the hospital, she’d driven to the cabin, packed a bag of clothes and headed to her parents’ house. Times like this called for the warmth of her childhood home. She stared out the large window next to the couch. Stars blinked beyond the outline of tree branches. An old Christmas movie was on TV. What used to be the most wonderful time of the year had officially become an annual contest for the most devastating events in her life.

  And, yes, Sam’s rejection was devastating.

  Whipped cream melted on top of the cocoa, and she took a sip, barely noticing the sweet liquid. She’d put on her favorite flannel red-and-white pajamas and covered her lap with a fuzzy throw, but neither comforted her the way they should.

  She’d been wrestling with her thoughts for hours. Strange she hadn’t cried—not once—since he’d dismissed her.

  Maybe her tear ducts had dried up. She felt lost. Empty.

  Numb.

  “Parker fell asleep. It was a treat to tuck him in again.” Mom carried her own mug of cocoa into the living room and sat in the recliner. “Aah, feels like old times. I miss you. I miss Parker. I miss us all living together. I’m not going in to work tomorrow, so you just relax here as long as you’d like, and I’ll take care of Parker.”

  Celeste tried to smile.

  “I know you’ll tell me what’s on your mind when you’re ready, but will you at least fill me in on what the doctor said?” If the crinkles above her nose didn’t reveal her concern, the nervous tapping of her fingernail against the mug did.

  “What we thought. No more surgery.” Saying those words rubbed her throat raw. She took another drink of her cocoa, but it didn’t ease the ache.

  Mom set her cup down and shifted to face her. “Tell me everything. Did he give you an explanation? Alternative?”

  Who cared? Her face could be a mangled mess and it wouldn’t matter, because Sam didn’t want her, he’d kicked her out of his life and she had to somehow go on without him.

  Celeste lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “He said surgery wouldn’t help. I pretty much tuned out after that. Sally called about Parker, and I left.”

  “That’s it?” Mom crossed one leg over the other. “I knew I should have gone with you.”

  “I’m a big girl. I handled it, Mom.”

  “Obviously that’s not true or you would have listened to what he said. Did he mention laser treatments?”

  The warmth of her childhood home suddenly stifled her. Was she twelve again, getting lectured for not listening in class? Didn’t she have enough to deal with?

  “He handed me a bunch of pamphlets.” She absentmindedly waved backward and resumed staring out the window.

  “And you didn’t look at them?” The way she said it made it sound as if Celeste had thrown away the Hope Diamond.

  “Look, Mom, I have bigger problems, okay?” She swung her legs over the side of the couch, tossed the throw off her and marched out of the room. Great. Not only was she being treated like a twelve-year-old, she was acting like one, too.

  Her mother followed her to the kitchen. “I’m sorry. I know how much this appointment meant to you. Give it a few days and look over the material. We can figure out your options then.” She wrapped her arms around Celeste, and Celeste puddled into them, not realizing how much she craved her mother’s embrace.

  A few minutes later, she stepped back. “I think I’ll turn in.”

  “It’s only eight.” The worry lines returned to Mom’s forehead.

  What did it matter? She wouldn’t sleep. She had so much to think about.

  So much to avoid thinking about.

  After kissing Mom’s cheek, she padded to her old room, shut the door and slid under the covers.

  Ironically, hearing she wouldn’t be having more surgery was the least of her problems. In fact, for the first time since the accident she really didn’t care. What did it matter if her face looked the way it did? Since moving to Lake Endwell, she’d been getting through life okay. She could go to the grocery store now. She’d been to the library. Awk
ward questions? She had answers. Stares? She was used to them. She was even ready to attend church again.

  The scars no longer mattered. She’d be raising Parker alone, anyhow. She couldn’t imagine—didn’t want to imagine—a life with anyone but Sam. And he’d been shockingly clear he didn’t want her in his.

  But why?

  She didn’t think it was her face. He’d been grim before she told him the verdict. Whatever changed him had happened before she told him about the results of her appointment.

  So what was it?

  She searched her thoughts for any clue. He’d been so sweet this morning, asking if she wanted Parker and him to come with her. And she’d said no, she wanted to go alone.

  Was that it? Had he felt rejected by her?

  And then the hospital and Parker falling... Maybe he blamed Parker for causing him to fall. Sam had acted strange when Parker reached for him.

  She shook her head. That couldn’t be it. Sam adored Parker. He not only said it, he acted like it, too.

  Which brought her back to her. Sam must have realized she wasn’t the right woman for him.

  Did he think she’d hurt him?

  She would never hurt him.

  But that might not be the kind of hurt he was talking about. He’d told her he wanted to carry a child on his shoulders. That he wasn’t having a family until he could walk on his own. What if the doctor had told him he’d never walk again? Was that why he rejected her?

  Acid turned her stomach into a battlefield. She clutched the covers to her neck, squeezing her eyes shut.

  She might never know why he changed his mind.

  And in the meantime, she’d try to forget the brilliant blue of Sam’s eyes, the funny things he said, the way he made her feel at ease, the strength of his arms around her, his kiss...

  Stop it! Just stop!

  If she could fall asleep for two or three weeks, sleep right through this heartache...

  Her brother was dead. Her best friend was dead. And she was the one who had to go on without them. Two giant holes in her life.