Snowflakes chased and teased each other outside Celeste’s picture window early Tuesday morning. Steam spiraled from the mug of coffee warming her hand. All weekend she’d coaxed Parker, but he still hadn’t taken more than one step on his own.
Today would be a day of baby steps for them all.
Her first early morning run since moving to Lake Endwell.
Sam’s first attempt at babysitting Parker.
Their first public outing. To the grocery store.
She took another sip and padded in her fuzzy black slippers to the bedroom. She dug around in her dresser to find leggings, a long-sleeve air-wicking T and the rest of the layers. Why had she agreed to this again?
Anticipation revved her nerves at the thought of jogging in the crisp air under the gentle snowfall, but imagining the rest of the day made her stomach heave. What if Sam took his eyes off Parker, and he got into something dangerous? Choked on a toy, or worse, fell?
Would Sam be able to take care of him?
She tossed all the clothes on the bed and shook her head. She’d watched Sam’s strong arms scoop Parker onto his lap and knew firsthand his agility getting in and out of the wheelchair. His right leg didn’t bend all the way, but he functioned pretty well. His family had cleared out the bottom cupboards over the weekend, and yesterday, she’d installed a portable baby gate with a swinging door to block the hallway leading to his bathroom and bedrooms. Parker would be safe and sound in the huge open living area.
But...
Dear Father, give Sam everything he needs to protect Parker.
As for her promise to take Parker’s new babysitter to the grocery store, maybe it would be better for Sam to see people’s reactions now—before she let her attraction bloom. Because every time she thought about him, her heart did a little flip. It wasn’t just his looks, although his chiseled jawline had made her forget her whereabouts on more than one occasion. It was how he cared about her nephew, the grit he showed going to physical therapy and the fact he’d asked her to the Christmas parade.
A date!
Well, kind of a date.
Once they got through grocery shopping, who knew what she would call it. Would Sam view her differently after he saw how people reacted to her scars? Would he pity her? Pity, she could probably deal with, but the worst would be disgust—she’d seen it a few times around her hometown before she stopped going out.
Half an hour later, she’d fed Parker and changed him into a pair of jeans and an orange sweatshirt sporting a tiger face. Celeste laced her running shoes, pulled her purple fleece headband over her ears and bundled Parker up in his stocking cap and puffy blue coat. She hoisted him on her hip and slung the diaper bag over her shoulder.
Out in the fresh air, Parker raised his face to the sky and squinted as snowflakes tickled his cheeks. He clapped his hands and laughed.
“It’s snow. You like it, don’t you?” Celeste hugged him close to her. “Guess what? You get to play with Sam today while I go running.”
“Mama!” He looked at her and pointed to the flakes.
Had he just called her Mama? Her heart practically thumped out of her chest as a sinking sensation slid down her throat. Could he call her that? Could he call her Mama?
She wasn’t his mama. Brandy was. And Brandy would be here if it wasn’t for her.
Celeste had been the one who insisted they go out, that Brandy needed a break, needed some fun. She’d been worried about how listless Brandy had become.
I don’t have time to think about it now.
After taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she kissed Parker’s cheek and hurried up the steps leading to Sam’s kitchen. She knocked, waited for the go-ahead and entered. Swiping Parker’s hat off his head, she stomped her feet free of snow, then quickly took off his coat and set him on the floor. He instantly crawled toward the living room. Sam waited on the couch, his right knee in a black brace under his basketball shorts. The skin on his leg held thick purple scars and rivets where he’d lost tissue. She hadn’t seen him with his leg uncovered, and the shock of his injuries took her breath away.
“Hey, buddy, you’re hanging out with me this morning.” Sam held his arms wide as Parker approached. Using the edge of the couch, Parker stood and bounced until Sam picked him up. Sam grinned at Celeste. “What did you feed him this morning? He’s excited.”
“Apple-and-cinnamon oatmeal. Breakfast of champions.” She dragged her toe back and forth in front of her. Maybe this was a bad idea. She forced herself not to stare at his leg. No wonder he dealt with so much pain.
“What’s wrong?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “You worried about me watching the little guy? We’ll be fine. I’ve got you and my aunt Sally on speed dial.”
“I know. It’s just... I’ve never left him with anyone but my parents, so I’m a little nervous.” She bit the corner of her lip. “Plus, my head’s kind of messed up right now. A minute ago, Parker called me Mama.”
“And that’s a problem?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I wasn’t prepared for it. I guess I thought he’d call me Auntie or something.”
“But you’re his mom.”
“I could never replace Brandy.”
“That’s not the point.” He tightened his hold around a wiggly Parker. “You’re going to raise him as your son, and you’re the only mother he’ll ever know. He should call you Mom.”
Put in those terms, her reservations didn’t make sense. But they still bothered her.
“I just don’t want to take this away from her.” She’d already taken enough.
“You wouldn’t be. You are planning on telling him about his mom and dad, right?”
“Of course!”
“Then what’s the problem? He’ll know he had parents who loved him but who couldn’t raise him, much as they would have liked to. And he’ll have a mom who loves him and can raise him.”
She didn’t know how to explain. It felt like a betrayal to Brandy and to Josh.
But Parker couldn’t call Brandy Mama. She’d never hear that word from his lips.
Maybe Sam had a point.
“I’ll think about it.” She avoided eye contact until she cleared her throat. “I’d better take off. Do you need anything? His diaper bag is right there by the couch. He shouldn’t need a change. Just watch him. He’s been putting things in his mouth, and I don’t want him to choke.”
“We’ll be fine.” He grinned, playing peekaboo with Parker. “Take your time.”
They would be fine. Wouldn’t they?
Once she reached the bottom of his porch steps, she inhaled the brisk air, tipped her chin up, pushed through a few light stretches and surged forward.
She had enough on her mind today without adding the whole mama issue. As her feet hit the gravel, she tried to forget about Brandy and what was happening after the run. The less she thought about the upcoming grocery-shopping trip, the better. Yes, a nice long run would help her forget.
Passing tall, stark trees, she rounded a bend. What were Sam and Parker doing now? She’d forgotten to mention Parker had a tooth coming in. Maybe she should go back and grab the teething ring in the fridge, just to be safe.
Her pace slowed.
They’ll be fine.
But the worries kept coming. Something told her nothing could clear her muddy mind, not even a long run through snow-topped pines.
* * *
Exactly one hour later, Sam waited next to Celeste’s minivan while she took Parker out of his car seat to strap him into the shopping cart. Looking around the packed parking lot of Lake Endwell Grocery and the steady stream of people bustling in and out of the automatic doors, Sam didn’t care this was step one toward a more mobile life. He wanted one thing. To go home to the privacy of his cottage.
The snow still fell, but it was melting as soon as it contacted the blacktop, so slush wasn’t a factor to worry about. He’d still have to be careful on the crutches, though.
Babysitting—all twenty-four minutes of it—had been fun. After a session of tickling Parker until he howled with laughter, Sam had found a fuzzy stuffed elephant in the diaper bag and, with a low voice, pretended to make it talk to Parker. Celeste had chosen that moment to return. Her flushed cheeks had done something funny to his brain, causing him to drop the elephant. Parker had flopped forward trying to get it, forcing Sam to clutch Parker to prevent him from falling. It had been difficult to keep his hold on the baby.
For the first time, he’d seriously doubted his abilities to take care of the boy.
Celeste must not have noticed he’d almost let Parker slip from his hands. All the way here, she’d been chattering nonstop about how great it felt to get outside and clear her head. He couldn’t admit he was nervous about watching Parker, not after seeing how happy running made her.
“Are you ready?” Worry lines dug between Celeste’s eyebrows. Her hands were encased with black suede gloves, but he guessed her knuckles were white under them. He didn’t want to stress her out more by admitting he was nervous. She looked nervous, too.
“Yep.” He swung forward. Watch the puddle. You’ve got this.
“It looks busy. We can come back another time if you want.”
“Nope. Let’s go in.”
With a loud breath, she pushed the cart to the entrance. He stayed by her side, carefully placing each crutch before swinging forward. What would it be like to be shopping as a couple, instead of as the result of an agreement? He liked the idea of cooking with Celeste and picking out cookies and snacks for Parker.
He really liked the idea of being able to push the cart.
Where was his head at? Had he gotten a concussion recently and not known it? They weren’t a couple. Never would be. And Celeste would see why in roughly six seconds, because he recognized almost every person inside this buzzing beehive. They entered the produce section, and Sam girded himself.
The bright, spacious store felt like a football field compared to his cottage, and Christmas music—“Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree”—played over the sound system. He smelled pumpkin pie and fried chicken. Both made him hungry.
“Well, I’ll be.” Alma Dartman, a woman in her eighties from church, nudged her husband. “Look, Irv, it’s little Sam.”
“Who?” Irv’s hunched back and thick glasses prevented him from seeing far. His hearing aid buzzed, and he yanked it out of his ear. “Blasted nuisance.”
“The youngest Sheffield boy.” Her voice carried, and she spoke louder. “The one in the accident. Sam.”
Sam closed his eyes for a split second. Why didn’t she just announce it over the loudspeaker? Then everyone would know he was here, and that, yes, he’d been in an accident. A few people turned to see what Alma was talking about, and before he knew what was happening, Sam had four people in line to ask him questions. His first instinct was to look for Celeste. She hung back.
“You’re walking.” Ms. James, Lake Endwell High’s retired gym teacher, stopped in front of him. After more than thirty years, she still looked like a gym teacher in her black tracksuit and short gray hair. The only thing missing was a whistle hanging from her neck. “Haven’t seen you out in a long time, Sheffield. How’ve you been?”
“Hanging in there.”
Ms. James noticed Celeste and nodded at her. “You in the accident, too?”
Celeste ducked her chin and shook her head. A surge of protectiveness had him taking a clumsy step closer to her.
“Oh, sorry. I assumed...the scars...but that’s right. Jeremy was in the boat with you. I heard he made a full recovery and is back in Cheboygan.” Ms. James hefted the bag of potatoes in her hand. “Well, I’ve got to motor. Before you get back at it, there’s a run on stuffing mix, so if you’re here for Thanksgiving staples, you might want to hit aisle five first.” She gave him a knowing look, then walked away.
For a moment he thought the questions were over, but he’d forgotten about Alma and Irv. “How are you doing, dear? We haven’t seen you in a while, have we, Irv? Why are you still on those crutches?”
If there was ever a time he wished he could disappear, now was the time. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Dartman.” He wanted to rub the back of his neck, but he didn’t dare let go of the crutch. “I’ve been back in the wheelchair for a few months. Hurt my knee.” He tried to smile, but his face felt crumbly, as did his noodle legs. Coming here was a mistake.
“We’re praying for you, honey.” Alma patted his cheek. “We’ll keep praying. And who is this young woman and baby?” Alma clapped her hands and stood in front of Parker, making kissy faces. “Hello, baby.”
“This is Celeste Monroe, my new neighbor, and her son, Parker.” He smiled at Celeste, but her hair hid half her face from view, and the side he could see was paler than the white bakery bags he could just make out from the corner of his eye. “It was nice to see you, Mrs. Dartman, but we’re going to have to keep going. Parker’s due for a nap soon.”
“Oh, yes, dear. I remember how cranky babies get without a nap.” She wiggled two knobby fingers at Parker, smiled and joined Irv, shouting, “He hurt his knee.”
“What?”
“His knee...”
Sam moved next to Celeste. “Are you okay? I’m sorry about that.”
“I’m fine,” she said in a strained voice. “Nothing to be sorry about. How are you holding up? It’s nice of her to pray for you.”
He hobbled in the direction of the grapes. “It is nice of her to pray. Alma Dartman is sweet. Loud, but sweet.” He flashed a grin to Celeste, but she glanced away. “What’s wrong?”
“Um, I guess being out. It’s kind of new for me.” She paused to place a bunch of bananas in the cart.
“If it makes you feel better, it’s new for me, too.”
“It does.” The gratitude shining in her eyes slammed into his chest. He’d felt so useless, his life had seemed so pointless until she’d come along. And she was the one who was grateful?
They slowly gathered fruits and vegetables. Sam had to fight his irritation at not being able to select and bag everything himself. If he tried, he would drop a crutch. He couldn’t take that chance. So he told Celeste which tomato he wanted and how many apples to buy. As they made their way to the bakery, he sensed her relaxing.
“Should we get something decadent?” He stopped in front of the row of desserts. A line of shoppers waited in front of the bakery counter. Boy, this place was crowded.
“You should definitely get something decadent.” She pointed to a Black Forest cake.
The pumpkin pie aroma from earlier hit him full blast. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving, by the way?”
“Parker and I are having dinner with my parents. What about you?”
“Aunt Sally’s. It’s a tradition. I probably won’t stay long.”
A cart bumped into Sam’s crutch, flipping it out of his hand. His right foot came down hard on the floor. He sucked in a breath at the pain shooting up his leg.
“Oh, no! Sam, are you all right?” Celeste grabbed his arm to steady him.
“Sorry!” A harried-looking mom stopped with a toddler girl by her side and a baby in the cart. “I didn’t see you. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said through gritted teeth.
Celeste bent to pick up his crutch and handed it to him. The little girl pointed at Celeste. “What’s on her face, Mommy?”
“Shh!” The mom tugged her hand and pushed the cart ahead. “That’s not polite.”
“But what are those lines?”
The mom’s cheeks turned brick red, and she disappeared around the corner, practically dragging the little girl by the hand.
At the stricken expression on Celeste’s face, Sam forgot all about the pain in his leg. This trip was turning out to be the disaster they’d both feared.
“Come on.” He couldn’t help that his tone was harder than a slab of concrete. “We’re getting out of here.”
* * *
Celeste didn’t move. The girl’s question and the mom’s escape defeated her in ways she hadn’t anticipated. It was as if she had driven them away by the way she looked.
Sam’s pulse throbbed in his neck, and his eyes had turned slate blue. Sharp, like his jawline.
“We’re taking a break. Wheel the cart over here.” He swung stiffly toward the floral department. She followed him. A small coffee shop with three round tables hid behind the flower displays. She’d never noticed the area before, probably because she hadn’t taken the time to look around. Sam carefully took a seat and propped his crutches against the wall.
“I didn’t know this was here.” Celeste pushed the cart out of the way and hoisted Parker into her arms.
“Would you mind ordering coffees for us? Cream for me, no sugar. I’ll hold Parker.”
She handed Parker to Sam and ordered the coffees. Minutes later, she set his on the table and popped the cover off her cappuccino. Sam didn’t touch his drink, though. Instead, he covered her hand with his. “I’m sorry about back there.”
Emotion pressed against the backs of her eyes, but she swallowed her embarrassment. “Don’t be. I’m used to it.”
“Well, you shouldn’t have to be used to it. I’m not. I’m about ready to make a sign that says, ‘My leg is not up for conversation.’ Why is it the first thing people comment on?”
She blew across the top of her drink. “I don’t know. I guess it’s human nature.”
“It shouldn’t be.” Sam rapped his knuckles on the table. Parker started fussing and reaching for Sam’s coffee. “Sorry, bud, you’re too young for this.” He gestured to the diaper bag. “Did you bring anything for him?”
She found a baggie of crackers and a sippy cup. Sam handed them to Parker, who took the cup in both hands and leaned back into Sam’s chest. Longing pinched her heart. Sam’s support tempted her to count on him. But how could she? The past five minutes revealed her new reality. People were uncomfortable around her because of her scars.
Was she partly to blame?
“I wish I handled things better.” She took a tentative sip of her drink. Still too hot. “I never know what to say, and I get so self-conscious.”
“I’m no help there. The last thing I want to discuss at the grocery store is my leg. It’s hard enough getting around on it.”
The tension in her neck melted. He felt self-conscious, too. It wasn’t just her.
“How is your leg, by the way? Maybe I should take you home.”
“Nah, she nailed the crutch, not my leg. I lost my balance, came down hard on my foot. It hurt at first, but it’s leveled off.” The strain around his mouth told her otherwise.
“Do you need an aspirin or anything?”
“I’ll take one at home.”
Grocery shopping shouldn’t be this complicated. And they’d gotten through only a quarter of the list. She sighed and took another sip of the coffee.
“Well, I think we hit everything we discussed last Friday. The awkward questions. Me almost falling flat on my face. What more can happen? Did we forget something?”
Celeste chuckled. She couldn’t help it. “You’re right. If someone had been listening in on our conversation, they might have thought we were being melodramatic. But clearly, we knew what we were talking about.”
“You can say that again.” Sam lifted the cup to his lips, and Celeste let out a teeny sigh. What was it about this man that had her heart tying itself up into knots? He leaned back. “Since we’ve survived produce—and I use the term survived loosely—are you up for heading back to the bakery?”
“I think so, but will it bother you if people stop us and ask more questions?” She couldn’t ask what she really worried about. Did it bother him when people pointed out her ugly scars?
“I guess I’ll have to get used to it.” He tilted his head. “I can’t change the fact my leg doesn’t work right.”
“No, I didn’t mean about your leg...” She twisted a napkin, darting her eyes to the side.
“Hey.” He reached forward and lifted her chin with his finger. “You’re the most beautiful woman here. You can’t help that people notice you.”
His words seeped into her soul, leaving a splendid emptiness where she’d been storing a full supply of insecurities.
“You’re a terrible, wonderful liar, Sam Sheffield. And I love you for it. Thank you.”
His face went blank.
“We’d better get back out there before the bakery sells out.” Celeste forced a teasing quality to her tone. “There’s a Black Forest cake with your name all over it.”
Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned love. She’d meant it casually. He obviously didn’t realize she’d said it as a joke.
Or had he guessed the truth? It would take all of three seconds for her to mean it for real.