Yuletide Redemption

“It’s kind of hard with Parker. I have a jogging stroller, but for me, running is a solitary sport. It’s not the same pushing a stroller. I’d rather have my arms moving.”

“What about a treadmill?”

She twisted her face, sticking her tongue out. “Yuck. Boring. I’m best outside.”

“I take it you’ve been doing it a long time?”

“Running used to be a big part of my life.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, let’s see.” She tapped her finger against her chin and flinched, suddenly remembering the tender spot. “I started running cross-country in seventh grade. I ran varsity all four years of high school. Got a partial college scholarship out of it, too.”

“Impressive.”

She diverted her attention to her lap. “Running kept me focused, but I didn’t give enough thought to life after college. It’s probably why I have a degree I’m not using.” She let out a self-deprecating laugh.

“Well, that makes two of us. I’m not using mine, either.” He frowned. “I think I need to change that.” She waited for him to say more on the subject, but he shook his head. “I take it you didn’t have dreams of marathons?”

“Oh, I had those, all right. I saw myself as the next Joan Benoit.”

“Who is she?” He gave her a pointed stare, his eyes playful.

“An amazing American runner.”

He looked suitably impressed. “So what happened?”

She shrugged, brushing a piece of lint from her jeans. “No matter how hard I trained, I wasn’t as fast as the top runners. I got injured my junior year of college. I’d had tendinitis and other problems off and on, but the stress fracture took a long time to heal. My college career was a disappointment. I did end up running in a few marathons after college.”

“Not anymore?”

“No.” Memories flitted to her. The feel of packed earth beneath her feet at all those high school races. Sweat dripping down her back as she pushed herself to stay conditioned on lonely roads during the summer. Lifting weights to get an edge. Being top ten in her district, but not good enough to take the state title. She missed those days.

“You don’t mind holding him?” She nodded at Parker, who had fallen asleep in Sam’s arms. What would it be like to have a man in her life, a husband to help raise Parker?

“Not at all. My niece Emily used to sleep on my lap, before...well, before I had the second surgery. The family doesn’t meet here for Tuesday dinners anymore. In fact, no one comes around as much. I didn’t want them to.”

“I get it. I pushed people away, too.” And some of them pushed me away.

The clock on the wall ticked as silence stretched.

“You never told me if your parents are taking Parker to the Christmas program practices.”

Celeste wrapped her arms around her waist. “I haven’t asked them.”

“Why not?” He sounded skeptical.

“It slipped my mind.” It hadn’t slipped her mind, but every time she considered calling Mom to ask, she balked. Something about the request reeked of desperation.

“Well, I should probably go back.” She rose. “Is there anything else you need before I leave?”

“Yes, actually.” Sam shifted in his seat, his face distorting as he did. “There is something you can do for me. I want to get out of here.”

* * *

“Oh, okay.” Celeste blinked. “Right now? It’s kind of cold out.”

Sam groaned. That wasn’t what he meant. He didn’t exactly know what he was asking.

“No.” He inhaled Parker’s baby shampoo, fighting the frustration bulging inside him. The accident had taken the use of his leg, but sometimes he thought it had taken his speech, too. Conversation had been easy—his strong suit—before the accident. And now? He might as well be a caveman, grunting and gesturing. “I mean in general. I was wondering if I could go grocery shopping with you.”

“Oh.” Her face fell as she sat back down. “Sure. No problem.”

But the way she slumped said it was a problem. “I don’t want to go out in the wheelchair. I don’t like being stared at, and I need to build strength in my legs. I’m just... Forget it.” He jerked his head to the side. Why did he have to be so dependent?

“Well, if you’re trying to avoid stares, I’m probably not the best person to be out with.” Her hair had fallen in front of her face, the way it had the first few times he saw her.

“Look, I know I’m asking a lot from you, but I’ve been hiding away for a long time. If I’m going to have any shot at a somewhat normal life, I have to go back to work. I thought if I start getting used to my crutches in public places, maybe it would be easier. I’m just asking to go with you when you have errands to run. Like when you stop in town for coffee or go to the library—that sort of thing.”

“I think that’s wonderful, Sam.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “But your family is better suited to take you out.”

“They all work. I would have to go with them at the busiest times, and everyone in town would stop and ask a million questions. My legs hurt the worst at night.” His forehead tightened, and he could feel his pulse hammering in his temple. He hated begging, but he’d given it a lot of thought over the last couple of weeks. Since he was back in physical therapy, he could see how much he’d been missing. It was as though he’d spent the last months under a dark tent, and the flap had opened, revealing a sunny meadow.

Frown lines deepened above the bridge of Celeste’s nose. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“What’s there to think about?” He massaged the back of his neck with his free hand. “I understand I would slow you down, but it can’t be that big of an imposition.”

“You wouldn’t slow me down, and you’re no imposition.” She wrung her hands together. “It’s just...well, I don’t go to the coffee shop or the library. I do the grocery shopping as soon as it opens, and I practically sprint through the aisles to get it done as quickly as possible.”

Some of the things puzzling him about Celeste finally added up. “You don’t want people to see your scars.”

Her throat worked as she swallowed. Was that a tear glistening in her eye?

“But you’re beautiful.”

She gasped, staring wide-eyed at him.

He shrugged. “I barely notice them.”

“You’re the only one, then. I have a follow-up appointment in December. I want more surgery.”

Something in her tone made him pause. In his experience, the doctors told him when he needed more surgery, not the other way around. He didn’t want to push the issue, though. He’d already brought a tear.

“Celeste?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Where do you miss going? You know, the places you took for granted before the accident?”