Yuletide Redemption Page 2

  This handsome, hurting man in front of her—the one who’d been given a crummy deal the same way she’d been—only made Celeste want her old face back more. She’d never been a supermodel, but men used to notice her and little kids didn’t ask awkward questions. She couldn’t imagine a romantic relationship in her current skin. It had been hard enough in her old one. More surgery was vital. Living here, away from unwanted attention, was, too.

  She squared her shoulders. “You’re not paralyzed, correct?”

  “No. Not paralyzed.” He flexed his hands. “I slipped in the shower back in June. Tore ligaments in my right knee. Had to have surgery on it.”

  Her heart tightened at all he’d been through. Lord, I’m sorry for all the ways I pity myself. Please help Sam.

  “Claire mentioned the possibility of using a cane.” It had been a while since she engaged in conversation this long with a stranger. She clasped her hands in her lap.

  “My doctor didn’t make any promises.”

  “Doctors can’t really make promises,” she said quietly. Hers certainly hadn’t. “What did yours say?”

  “With enough physical therapy, I might be able to get around with a cane eventually. I’ll need a wheelchair or crutches to give my leg a break when the pain gets bad.”

  “I’m sorry. I take it you can’t walk at all?”

  “For short periods. With crutches.”

  “That’s good.” She nodded.

  “I haven’t used them much since I fell.”

  “Oh. Does the doctor want you off your leg so it can heal?”

  He didn’t meet her eyes, but his right shoulder lifted in a shrug. “It’s less painful this way.”

  Not exactly the answer to her question. “But how will you get better if you stay in the wheelchair?”

  “There’s no getting better. I won’t be able to do the things I used to do. I’ll never run, ski or slam-dunk a basketball again.”

  Heat climbed her neck. It wasn’t her business. She was here to help him in exchange for the cabin. Nothing more. But she really couldn’t follow his way of thinking. He refused to go to physical therapy, but without it he’d always be in a wheelchair. Hmm...

  “I don’t know much about it,” she murmured.

  “I don’t want to be confined to this chair, but I can’t risk permanent damage.”

  “So let me take you to physical therapy.”

  “No.”

  “But you just said—”

  “I’d give anything to walk again. Hobbling around with a cane isn’t walking. It’s a rotten consolation prize.”

  “I’m really confused. You have a chance to improve your life.” She let the rest of her thought go unspoken. But you’re too proud to see a cane as an improvement.

  He jerked his head to the side. “I don’t want this life.”

  And there it was.

  Now Celeste understood why Claire had offered an empty cabin in exchange for help with Sam. Until this moment Celeste had worried the offer was only made out of pity. But if pity played a part, Claire’s concern for her brother was clearly the bigger factor. This man had been through so much, and he hadn’t reconciled his past to move on to the future.

  “What do you want?”

  He didn’t answer right away, but he sighed. “I was the CEO of Sheffield Auto, our family business. Making decisions for five auto dealerships, including one of my own. Everything was going great. Then one day I go fishing with my friend, and nothing has been the same since.”

  Celeste nodded in sympathy. He’d had big goals. Unlike her. Until last December, she’d been drifting along, working for an insurance agency and living in a dinky apartment. Her degree in history had been filed away in a box, unused. Lately she’d been thinking of dusting it off to become a teacher. Be the woman she could have been.

  But not with these scars. She’d be the laughingstock of the school.

  “My life isn’t the same, either. I don’t think it ever will be.” She focused on a chickadee perched on the deck railing outside. Another joined it and they flew off together. Escaping. Lake Endwell was her escape.

  “I haven’t figured out how to move forward.” With his elbow propped on the table, his chin rested on his fist.

  “Do you still want to run your dealership? And be CEO?”

  “Not from a wheelchair.”

  Her gut told her this man needed physical therapy as badly as she needed more surgery on her face. But how could she convince him?

  “What about returning to work with a cane? You have options.” She tipped her head. “Try physical therapy again. Claire won’t let me live in her cabin unless you do.”

  “My sister?” He scoffed. “She wouldn’t kick you out.”

  “She would. She’s determined to get you back to PT.”

  “I’ll find you another place to stay.”

  “I don’t want another place.” She didn’t know why this man was touching such a nerve in her. She could live somewhere else. But the dark circles under his eyes shot compassion through her heart. She wanted him to smile. Wanted him to have hope. And her approach clearly wasn’t working. “Look, I need this.”

  “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!”