Yuletide Redemption. Jill Kemerer
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she ascended the kitchen steps and knocked.
“I’ll meet you at the bottom of the ramp,” Sam yelled.
“Okay.” She hurried down the staircase and wiped her palms on her jeans, holding her breath when he rolled her way. “Do you need me to help?”
“No. Got it.”
As soon as he reached the passenger side, she held out her hand to help him into the van. He kept his weight on his left leg and got into the seat slowly and with concentrated effort. Parker had finally stopped crying. So far, so good.
“Let me put this in the trunk, and we’ll be on our way.” She clutched the hood together under her chin before awkwardly loading the chair in the back. Once inside the van, she checked on Parker, whose eyelids were heavy, and buckled her seat belt. “Sorry I’m late. Something unexpected came up.”
“For a minute, I thought you stood me up.”
Stand him up? Not in a million years.
“No, nothing like that. A lady from Brandy’s church called.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah...well, no. Not really.” She shook her head, swallowing the knot in her throat. “Never mind. I don’t know what to think. They want to surprise Brandy’s grandma by having Parker be baby Jesus in the Christmas Eve service.”
“Why do you sound upset? Don’t you like her grandma?”
“I love her. She’s sweetness personified. In fact, I feel guilty I haven’t visited her in a while. She adores Parker.”
“Don’t feel guilty. You’re doing the best you can.”
The road wound through trees. The wipers swished rapidly as she sneaked a peek over at Sam’s profile. She guessed he smiled a lot—or used to, anyway—by the faint creases around his blue eyes. Did her heart just flutter? He was so handsome, even if he was worried. The lines in his forehead and slight bulge in the vein near his temple didn’t lie.
“Are you nervous about today?” she asked.
“Yeah.” Sam faced her, and her stomach dipped. My, oh my.
She turned and continued along the two-lane road. The forest gave way to farm fields, some with faded yellow cornstalks standing limp in the rain, others with dried stumps of harvested crops. The trees in the distance looked like a watercolor painting of fall colors.
“What else is going on?” The way he said it gave her the impression he’d welcome a distraction.
“I’m still not sure about this baby Jesus thing in the Christmas Eve program.”
“He’s pretty young.” Sam frowned, looking back at Parker. She checked her rearview. He’d fallen asleep.
“Yes, but if he won’t cooperate, they’ll let him be a sheep.”
“Cute.” The corner of his mouth kicked up in a grin, and his eyes twinkled. “I’d like to see that.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t sound so excited.”
“I’m not a hundred percent sold on the idea.”
“Why not?”
“Well, like you said, he’s pretty young. Not even walking yet. And I would have to take him to practices.”
“What’s so bad about that?” He shifted, watching her.
Everything. Brandy’s friends might blame me. And then there’s my face. She tilted her chin up. “The church is a mile north of where my car spun out last December. I would have to pass it to get to the practices.”
He didn’t say anything for a while, just stared at the rain splashing on the window. “If it would make it easier, I could go with you.”
Celeste sucked in a breath. His offer burrowed into her heart. All her reasons for not taking Parker seemed petty. But reality set in. Then doubt. Sam would see other people’s reactions. She didn’t want him to think less of her.
“Thank you, but I can always ask my parents to take him.”
She could feel his stare but didn’t bother looking over. He didn’t understand, and she wasn’t explaining. She wished she could take him up on his offer. Wished she had met him before her accident, when things were different. When even a tongue-tied girl like her might have had a chance at dating a guy like him.
* * *
“You’ve been working on your upper body strength.”
“Every morning your voice echoes in my head, chiding me about working hard and pushing through.” Sam’s left leg trembled at the exertion of the last hour. His right hip was ready to explode. The pain differed from what he’d been feeling at home, though. He recognized it from all those months he’d worked with Dr. Rachel Stepmeyer. The pain of exertion brought a rush. And hope.
Last time he’d hoped, he’d been let down. How many times had he prayed for complete healing? He’d believed God would heal him, too. He’d memorized the Bible verse about being able to move a mountain with enough faith. His faith hadn’t lacked. God hadn’t listened to him.
God didn’t care.
“The good news is your muscles haven’t atrophied. You’re weaker, obviously, and you’ve lost some range of motion, but commit to your sessions and you’ll get it back. We have a new muscle stimulation system. It could help with your pain.” Dr. Stepmeyer typed something into her tablet. “I want you out of the wheelchair more. I know it’s hard, but the crutches will force you to build muscle in your legs.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
That brought a hint of a smile to her face. She handed him a brochure about muscle stimulation. “Read this over and let me know if you want to try it.”
“I will.” He tucked it between his thigh and the side of the wheelchair.
“See you on Wednesday.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh, and Sam?”
He waited.
“It’s good to have you back.”
Nodding, he spun the chair and wheeled away. Rain still pounded against the glass door. He didn’t see Celeste’s minivan, so he waited near the entrance. Ever since his last doctor’s appointment a few months ago, he’d pushed aside the nagging worry that the fall in the shower had killed his chances at ever walking unassisted. After the last surgery, Dr. Curtis had warned him it might take two more years for him to heal. If he healed...
But today Dr. Stepmeyer had assured him he just needed to keep working at it.
His thoughts turned to the conversation earlier in the car. Sam had made the offer to accompany Celeste to the practices because he thought she needed a friend. And, if he was honest, because he’d been thinking about her more and more each day. He wanted to spend time with her. Enjoyed talking to her. She didn’t put pressure on him the way his family did.
The fact she was avoiding the site of her accident didn’t surprise him. What did? How quickly she turned him down.
He wasn’t used to women turning him down.
Celeste’s red minivan stopped at the sidewalk. He pressed the button for the doors to automatically open. The handicap buttons were getting old. His life was getting old.
Would Celeste have said yes if he wasn’t in a wheelchair?
He didn’t know. He wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.
Celeste pushed the dust