Yuletide Redemption. Jill Kemerer

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       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!”

      “But first I’m waiting to see what Dr. Smith says.”

      Mom clamped her mouth shut, arching her eyebrows. “He’s already told you. You need to let it go.”

      She pivoted and СКАЧАТЬ