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A shiver rippled over her skin. No, she hadn’t been texting or drinking. But if she’d paid more attention to the weather conditions, she would have realized the pavement was covered in black ice. She would have driven slower.
And Brandy would be alive.
The plate in her hand slipped. She tightened her grip.
When she got the surgery and no one could see the scars anymore, they would forget about the accident. She’d be able to face herself in the mirror. She could look at Parker and not want to crush him to her, crying out, “It was my fault! I killed your mommy!”
She’d lived with the visual reminders for too long. They’d forced her into hiding, away from the options that used to be available to her. Her mind flipped to Sam, his comment about not wanting his life.
She didn’t want hers, either.
The life she wanted depended on more surgery.
* * *
Sam wiped the sweat off his forehead with a towel Saturday morning. The clock read 9:20, which meant he needed to get ready. Celeste would be here in ten minutes to work out a schedule. Schedule. The word brought a bad taste to his mouth. It was impersonal, reminding him he was a duty, nothing more. It had been three days since Celeste moved in, and he hadn’t been able to get her or Parker off his mind.
He tightened his hold on the crutches as he clip-clopped to the kitchen. Regardless of what his family thought, he hadn’t completely given up on himself. Every morning he spent an hour performing range-of-motion exercises and working his upper body with weights. The effort always exhausted him, and the pain in his legs? Excruciating. He dreaded returning to physical therapy next week.
Maybe he should cancel.
And break his promise to Celeste? If he was that much of a coward, he might as well give up on life now.
He’d go to PT. He was a fighter.
Was being the key word.
When was the last time he’d fought for anything other than to maneuver his body out of bed without aggravating his leg? Lately he’d played the role of invalid a little too well.
Fumbling with the cupboard door, he almost dropped his crutch. It had been a long time since he used them to get around the cottage. Both arms and legs already ached. Whenever he put weight on his bad leg, his ankle rolled and knee caved. Balancing on his left leg and crutch, he pulled a glass out of the cupboard and flipped on the faucet, letting the water stream until it ran cold.
In some ways he’d been fortunate. Within six months of his first surgery, he’d regained feeling in his foot. Most of his leg followed. He’d used crutches until June, when one slip in the shower had thrown him back to square one. The ligaments in his right knee had torn and the healing nerve graft had been strained. Another surgery had repaired the knee, but three weeks with his leg immobilized had set his progress back considerably. The physical therapist made home visits for two weeks, but when the home visits stopped, so did Sam’s motivation. The flexibility and strength he’d fought so hard for had declined.
What if physical therapy didn’t work? Why do it if he’d be stuck in this state forever?
You promised her, Sheffield.
Now and then he’d caught glimpses of Celeste carrying Parker across the lawn to the edge of the lake. Her hair was usually pulled back, and her face would glow as she held both Parker’s hands so he could toddle in front of her. He wished he could join her and toss Parker up in the air and catch him the way Tommy did with his youngest, Emily, who would giggle nonstop.
Sam frowned, thinking of Parker’s dad. The kid didn’t have a father, and Celeste appeared to be single. He hadn’t seen any cars besides her parents’ pull up.
He changed into a clean T-shirt and checked his appearance in the bathroom mirror. Too thin and pale with dark smudges under his eyes. In other words, a train wreck. The sensation of pins and needles spread across his right knee as a faint knock came from the kitchen.
Crutches or wheelchair? Experience said to settle his leg on the footrest of the wheelchair or he’d be in for a world of hurt, but vanity won. He thunked his way down the hall and hollered, “Come in.”
Celeste stepped inside with Parker on her hip and her head lowered. When she glanced up, Sam’s lungs froze. Maybe it was the shyness in her brown eyes or the slight imperfection in her smile—whatever it was, she affected him. If his life was different, he’d be tempted to ask her on a date.
The muscles in his stomach tightened. His life wasn’t different. He couldn’t even handle leaving the cottage. How could he fantasize about dating?
“You’re up and about.” Celeste sounded surprised. The day was sunny but cool, and she wore a beige cardigan over dark jeans and matching beige slip-on canvas shoes. “You look pale.”
Yeah, a mere hour of exercises left me limp.
“Come in and sit down.” He led the way to the living room and sat on a chair. He made a conscious effort not to hiss as he lifted his bad leg onto the ottoman. Sweet relief. The aching lessened but the tingling sensation increased.
She perched on the edge of the couch and bounced Parker on her knees. Sam peered more closely at him. His eyes were lighter brown than hers, and he had chubby cheeks and a happy air about him. Sam had the craziest urge to take the boy in his arms and set him on his lap.
“Cute kid.” He smiled at him, then studied Celeste from her shiny hair to her slim frame.
“Thanks.” She seemed to be aware of his scrutiny and shrank into herself. She nodded to his leg. “How are you? Are you feeling okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Are you sure? You’re not in pain?”
Here he’d been trying to appear somewhat normal, and he’d obviously failed. She viewed him as a patient. Not as a man.
“Did you bring your calendar?” he said. “Let’s figure out a schedule.”
“I keep everything in here.” She held up her phone.
Phone. His was in the bedroom. As much as he wanted to get it himself, the sensations in his leg screamed not to. “Mine is in my room. Would you mind getting it for me?”
“Sure.” She rose, taking Parker with her. The boy watched him over her shoulder. Sam almost waved at the little guy.
“First door to your right. It’s on the table.” Next to his hospital bed. A further reminder he was an invalid. Real men didn’t sleep in beds with railings.
Why was his pride flaring up now? She’d see the entire house when she cleaned. Would he feel the same if Celeste were older, unattractive, unavailable? Probably not.
If he could go back in time, back to when he was whole...
“Here you go.” She handed him the phone, her slender fingers brushing his.
“Thank you.” Ignoring the way his adrenaline kicked in at her simple touch, he swiped the screen and clicked through to his calendar. “Why don’t we start with cleaning?”
For the next ten minutes, they hashed out a schedule. Toward the end, he struggled to concentrate. His leg had been growing stiff as they talked.
“Could you grab me an ice pack from the freezer?” He grimaced, shifting to ease his discomfort. “It slips into a wrap.” Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. When would this get easier?
She set Parker on the area rug a few feet in front of him, went to the kitchen and returned, handing Sam the ice pack. “Is there anything I can do? You look like you’re hurting.”
He was. Every day brought pain. “The ice wrap will help. I overdid my exercises this morning.”
She helped him fasten the wrap on, and he leaned back in the chair, closing his eyes and counting to five. If she said anything, he didn’t hear it. When the worst of the pain passed, he opened his eyes.
Parker still sat on the rug, but his little legs pumped back and forth as he laughed, both fists full of the fluffy material. Sam’s discomfort faded at the sight of such delight.
“You do exercises?” She resumed her spot on the couch, leaving Parker where he was to enjoy the rug.
“I did physical therapy nearly every day for the first year after the accident. I was making decent progress until I fell almost at the year mark. Ever since the operation in June, my knee’s been weak and stiff. I still do a sequence of exercises each morning.” It wasn’t enough. He knew it. Had known it for months. But the longer he stayed away from therapy, the more daunting it became.
“I had to learn how to eat again. A few spots are painful to touch.” She pointed to the scar on her cheekbone then to her chin. “It’s hard.” Her tone softened. “What you’re doing is hard.”
It was hard. No one understood how hard.
Except maybe her. Which made him like her even more.
“Can you drive me to the rehab center next week?” he asked gruffly. “I have appointments scheduled Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Ten o’clock each morning.”
“Sure.” She typed the information into her phone. “Anything else?”
“Not right now.” He wasn’t ready for her to go, though. She distracted him from the monotony his life had become. “Tell me about your life before the accident.”
“There’s not much to tell.” Celeste rummaged through the diaper bag and handed Parker a small stuffed dog. He promptly shoved the ear in his mouth. “I answered phones for an insurance agency. My major didn’t exactly help my job prospects.”
“What was your major?”
“History.”
“You don’t want to teach?” His muscles loosened as the ice worked.
“Actually, I’ve been thinking about getting certified.” She gave him a shy glance. “It depends. A lot has changed.”
Parker squealed and the floppy dog flew through the air. He crawled after it. Sam grinned. Yes, he could see how things had changed. She had a baby to care for.
“What about you?” she asked. “Do you think you’ll work again?”
The thought of not working again horrified him almost as much as the thought of living out his days in a wheelchair. “Yes.”
“The dealership?”
“Uh-huh.” He tightened the wrap. As much as he’d tried to deny it, he craved his job. He’d been toying with the idea of printing off last month’s profit-and-loss statement again. Maybe this time he could get through it without vomiting. “I oversaw Sheffield Auto. My brothers and I had meetings every Friday morning at the closest dealership—one of Tommy’s—to go over quotas, employees, budgets, you name it.”
And he’d been in charge. Finally a respected part of the family business instead of the pesky little brother. Man, he missed it.
“Do you miss it?”
It was as if she’d read his mind.
“Yeah.”
“You should go to one of the meetings.”
“I don’t know.” He frowned as the view of his propped leg greeted him. He’d gone from annoying little brother to respected member of the company to cripple. He was afraid of breaking down in front of his brothers and dad. Could he return to the job he’d thrived on?
Parker hauled himself up to a standing position, then fell back on his bottom. He chewed on the toy again.
“Would they come here?” she asked.
They probably would. But he wanted out of this cottage. Wanted to be the CEO, not the victim.
Was he capable, though? The accident had injured him in ways he didn’t want anyone to know. “I’ll see how I’m feeling after a couple of weeks.”
Her sweet smile made him want to declare he would be at those meetings, but he knew better than to make promises he couldn’t keep. The only thing worse than being pitied would be for Bryan, Tommy and Dad to witness him having an emotional breakdown.
The last thing he wanted was another devastating setback. He had to be careful, which meant playing it safe and taking things slow with his leg—and with his life.
* * *
Monday morning Celeste craned her neck to peer over the counter. Parker sat on his play mat and grunted as he gripped a toy airplane over his head. When he shook it, music played and lights flashed. She had five minutes before she had to buckle him into his car seat. Today was Sam’s first day of physical therapy, and she’d promised she’d get him there early. A thrill of excitement sped through her veins at the thought of seeing him again. He had a kind heart. It matched his face, which kept flashing before her when she closed her eyes at night.
He was way out of her league. Too handsome, too next-door, too everything.
She frowned at the drizzle outside. Sam had already told her he would be in the wheelchair since he couldn’t take the chance of hurting his leg using the crutches. What if he slipped getting into her minivan? And would she be able to help him in and out without hurting him?
After a final swipe of the dishcloth over the counter, she hustled to the front hall closet for her jacket. Then she nestled Parker into the car seat, ignoring his protests at being separated from the toy. He arched his back and fussed as she clicked the straps into place.
“I know, baby.” Grabbing the diaper bag and her purse, she tensed at his increasing cries and lifted the carrier as her cell phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Celeste? This is Sue Roper from Rock of Ages church.”
Brandy’s old church. Dread pooled in Celeste’s stomach.
“Yes, hello, Sue.”
“I know you’re raising Parker now, and I wasn’t sure if you were aware that Brandy’s grandmother, Pearl, recently moved to an assisted living facility.”
“Yes, I know. I’ve been meaning to visit.” Grandma Pearl. The woman had hosted countless tea parties in her parlor for Celeste and Brandy when they were little girls. Rheumatoid arthritis and weak bones had forced her into an apartment in assisted living. Guilt pinched Celeste. She hadn’t visited the endearing lady in a while. At least her parents had brought Parker to see her a few times.
“She would love that,” Sue said. “But that’s not why I’m calling. We’re preparing the children’s Christmas Eve program, and we have a favor to ask.”
Parker’s cries became wails. A favor? She rocked the carrier. “Is there any way I can call you back?”
“It will only take a minute.”
“Okay, just give me a second.” Celeste suppressed a sigh and took Parker out of the car seat, settling him in her arms. His cries stopped instantly. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“Well, Pearl is very near and dear to us, so the ladies and I have been discussing it, and we want to give her a Christmas surprise. Since Brandy died, she’s been really down. Still comes to church, thankfully. Lou Bonner brings her each Sunday. The one thing that brightens her up is Parker. She always talks about him and shows us the pictures you send her.”
Celeste’s chest tightened. She should be doing more for Grandma Pearl than sending a few pictures now and then.
Sue continued. “Wouldn’t she love it if Parker was baby Jesus in the program? I can’t think of another gift that would make her happier. I know he’s a bit old for the part, but we’d love to have him for Pearl’s sake.”
In her head, Celeste instantly ticked off problems with the scenario. Parker wasn’t walking, but he was at a stage where he hated to be constrained. Having him in a Christmas program seemed overly ambitious. Then there was the fact Grandma Pearl went to Brandy’s old church.
There would be questions. And attention. The kind she avoided.
