Celeste raced through the sliding doors of the hospital, halting at the information desk. Her mind hadn’t stopped spitting out nightmare scenarios since Sally called. What if Parker had gotten worse? What if Sam had broken his leg?
After being directed to the waiting room, she scurried down the hallway and spotted Sally rocking Parker. Celeste slowed to catch her breath. “How is he?”
Sally looked up and smiled. “Almost asleep. He took a hard hit to the noggin. The nurse gave me an ice pack.” She held up a round gel pack shaped like a frog. “I’ll hold him while you check him in.”
“Thank you. I’ll be right back.” Celeste pushed her hair back behind her ear. The waiting room looked inviting with sage-green chairs, a television and a large fish tank. It was also surprisingly quiet. Only a handful of chairs were occupied. Maybe she wouldn’t have to wait long for them to treat Parker. After talking to a nurse, she filled out paperwork and returned. She lifted Parker out of Sally’s arms, kissing the purple bump on his forehead.
“Mama,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her neck.
“You poor thing. Looks like you got an owie.” A double-chocolate, frosted brownie couldn’t be sweeter than this boy. She hugged him tight and met Sally’s eyes. “Have you heard from Sam?”
“He was waiting to get test results last I heard.”
“Do you think he tore anything? Broke anything?” Celeste moved Parker so he was sitting on her lap. She gently felt around his skull, finding a bump on the back of his head, too. Parker seemed okay. They’d find out for sure as soon as a doctor could see him. But Sam? Fear twisted in her abdomen.
“I don’t know.” Sally’s kind eyes dimmed. “I hope not. He’s been through enough.”
Celeste agreed. He’d been through so much. Why did he have to fall? Today of all days. They were supposed to be going to the Christmas parade Saturday. It was all she’d looked forward to since he’d asked her to go with him. It was unlikely he’d be able to go now.
“Thank you for taking care of Parker until I could get here.”
Sally patted Celeste’s hand. “I’m glad I could, hon. I love babies. Parker is a sweetheart, and I’d do anything for Sam.”
She would do anything for Sam, too. She loved him. And it was eating her alive not knowing if he’d seriously hurt his leg. He’d made so much progress since she’d met him.
Dear Lord, please let Sam be okay. Keep his leg safe. Heal him. Comfort him.
“What are your Christmas plans?” Sally asked.
“Parker is going to be baby Jesus in a children’s service at his mom’s old church.” Celeste frowned. “I should call the director and tell her Parker won’t be at practice tonight. I’m sure he’s had enough excitement today.”
Sally gestured to her. “Go ahead. If you’re like me, you’ll forget to do it later.”
Celeste called Sue Roper and told her Parker wouldn’t be there. Then, as she chatted with Sally about the Sheffield Christmas traditions, Lake Endwell and the big parade, she began to calm down. Parker rested on her lap, and before they knew it, an hour had passed.
“Parker Monroe,” a nurse called.
Celeste gave Sally a shaky smile. “We’ll be back. Please let me know as soon as you hear anything from Sam.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll shoot you a text if I get any news.”
“Thank you.”
She and Parker followed a nurse to an examination room. Forty-five minutes later, Parker was given the all clear, and Celeste held instructions about warning signs after a head injury. He started fussing, so she bought a package of crackers from a vending machine before returning to where Sally sat.
“He’s being released.” Sally slid her phone into her purse as Celeste approached. “He’ll be right down.”
Overcome with relief, Celeste fell into a chair, ripped open the crackers and handed the bag to Parker. “He must be okay if they’re releasing him.”
“Praise the good Lord.” Sally closed her eyes a moment. “That boy will be the death of me. I’ve never worried about anyone as much as I have him the last eighteen months.”
“I know what you mean. He’s pretty special.”
“He is.” Sally pushed herself up from the chair, her eyes suspiciously watery. “I’m going to find a pop machine and get my sugar and caffeine on. Be right back.”
Celeste smoothed Parker’s hair from his forehead as Sally disappeared. What a day. She still hadn’t processed her own doctor’s visit, and here she was, dealing with Parker’s and wondering how Sam had fared.
She glanced down the hall. Someone in scrubs pushed Sam in a wheelchair. Her heart did a backflip. The grim expression on his face worried her, though. Had he gotten terrible news? Was he in pain?
She carried Parker, munching on his snack, toward him. Sam said something to the man pushing him, and the man patted his shoulder then left. Sam wheeled himself the rest of the way.
“Dada!” Parker squirmed, twisting so both arms reached for Sam. She caught her breath. Had Parker just called Sam Dad? It sounded so right.
But Sam didn’t look happy. He didn’t take Parker in his arms. In fact, his face drained of color.
“Did they run tests?” Sam asked. “Is Parker going to be okay?”
“He’ll be fine.” She patted her purse. “I have a list of things to watch for, but I’m more worried about you. Are you all right?”
He nodded curtly.
“What did the doctor say?” She gestured to his leg, but he didn’t meet her eyes.
“Nothing I didn’t already know.”
His dead tone and the way his gaze locked to the wall raised the hair on her arms.
“Tell me what’s wrong.” She touched his hand. He flinched, snatching it back.
“Nothing’s wrong. How did your appointment go?” His question had no feeling behind it.
She wanted to lie, to tell him it went great, that a few months from now he’d see her at her best, scar-free. But this was Sam. He’d become her safe place. The man she could be honest with, the one who made her feel comfortable, happy again.
“The doctor won’t do more surgery.” All her hopes leaked out at each word. Please let this not change anything. Let me be wrong. Maybe living with my scars isn’t as bad as I thought.
The muscle in his cheek ticked. “So, lousy news all around.”
He still wouldn’t make eye contact. And his reaction? Confusing.
What had she expected? Comfort. A hug. Maybe even, in my wildest dreams, for him to say, “It doesn’t matter. You’re flawless in my eyes.”
But she wasn’t flawless. Would never be flawless.
Sam rubbed his thigh where the brace ended. “I shouldn’t have babysat Parker. I won’t make that mistake again. And don’t worry—I’ll find someone else to drive me to my appointments.”
Her head reeled. Find someone else? Why? Had he been banking on her being scar-free, too? Before her head exploded with worries, she inhaled. No sense guessing. She’d ask him instead.
“Why would you find someone else to drive you?”
“I was forcing something.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I wanted my life to be different.” He put his fist to his lips, turning his head to the side. “I was wrong. I accept that.”
Was he speaking in some weird code? She tried to decipher his words, his attitude. “Is this about my scars or your leg?”
He shrugged. “Both, I guess. We want to erase our accidents, but we can’t.”
Both. Her scars were a factor.
“What aren’t you saying?” Her voice rose, sounded screechy to her ears. “Why now? You reinjured your leg, didn’t you? Is it permanent?”
“This isn’t about my leg.” He finally met her eyes. “It’s about you. And me. And reality.”
If it wasn’t his leg, it must be her scars. She had the sensation ice was freezing her body from her toes up her torso to her neck and head. “What changed?”
“Nothing. And that’s the problem. I thought my situation had changed, but it didn’t. If we don’t put an end to this now, we’ll end up hurt.”
Too late. She was in too deep.
“I don’t understand,” she said. “I thought we had something...”
“I’m sorry if I led you on.”
Led her on? Her throat was closing in. She fought for breath. Jostled Parker as she willed her legs to support her.
“I see,” she said. “So you don’t want me around at all, is that it? You don’t need my help. What about the parade?”
He shook his head, his lips drawing together tightly, virtually disappearing. “It’s for the best.”
The words were a verbal slap to the face. Her heartbeat slowed, her blood turning to sludge. He’d obviously made up his mind. They—whatever they were—no longer existed. He didn’t want her.
There was nothing left to do but leave.
* * *
“I suppose you heard all that?” Sam yanked the wheels to get through the hospital hallway as quickly as possible. Aunt Sally half jogged at his side. He’d done the right thing. Let Celeste go. She could find someone worthy of her, someone who would protect her and Parker.
Given his limitations, it was a crime to chain her to him. He would just bring more problems to her life. Celeste’s life was full of problems already.
If he could get his heart to listen... It was clenching, bleeding, wringing itself into a tiny ball of nothing.
He’d had it all for a brief moment. Hope. The hope of the life he wanted. But reality collided with fantasy, and it was over.
“I tried to give you two some privacy, but your body language said it all.” Aunt Sally made a clucking sound. “I don’t know what is going on with you, but I don’t like this.”
“You don’t know anything about it.”
“I know Celeste has the patience of Mother Teresa. She’s good for you. She was worried, and from the look on her face when she hightailed it out of here, I’d say you just broke her heart.”
“I did her a favor.” The cold air smacked his cheeks as he rolled onto the sidewalk. He stopped near the side of the entrance where he could wait for Aunt Sally to drive the car around. “I want to go home.”
“Well, too bad, Sam.” Flames shot from her eyes as she planted her hands on her hips directly in front of him. “You’ve gotten your way ever since the accident, and you know what? Today you don’t get to have your way. You’re going to listen to me.”
“Gotten my way? Are you crazy?” He clenched his hands into fists. “Nothing in the last eighteen months has been my choice.”
“Yes, it has.” She bent over, jabbing her index finger into his chest. “Your recovery has been all your way. We’ve let you be, only stopping by when you let us, trying to make it as easy as possible for you to get back to life—”
“I don’t have a life!”
Her mouth dropped open, and she drew back, shaking her head. “You have a life. If you can’t see it, there’s no hope for you. What happened in here, Sam?” She pointed to her heart, her eyes glistening. “Why won’t you let anyone in?”
“I did!” He searched her eyes. Tried to stuff down his emotions and failed. “I let her down. I wanted to be the man she needed, and instead, I put Parker in danger.”
“Pshaw.” She gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Parker tripped and fell. He’ll have many more falls in his life, with or without you watching him.”
“You don’t understand.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I couldn’t get to him. He crawled under the Christmas tree. I couldn’t reach in and grab him. I couldn’t keep him safe.”
“Sam, when your cousin Braedon was two, I was helping Joe fix the sink. Braedon was sitting on the couch, watching Sesame Street, and I turned my back for a minute. I didn’t hear him and got worried. I found him on his bedroom floor, choking on something. I put him over my knees and whacked his back to try to dislodge it. Nothing came out. Fear buzzed through me, and I prayed, frantically begging God to save him. I yelled for Joe, and he raced in there, took one look at Braedon and stuck his finger down his little throat. Braedon threw up, and there in the middle was a quarter. I couldn’t keep my baby safe, either. But it didn’t stop me from trying.”
“It’s not the same.”
“Sure it is.”
“He was your son. Of course you kept trying. What choice did you have?”
“The same one you could have, Sam.” She patted his cheek. “I have the feeling Celeste cares for you. And if I’m not mistaken, you feel the same about her and Parker. You’re not in control of the universe. God is. Let Him protect your loved ones. Don’t let Celeste slip away.”
He not only was letting her slip away, he’d been the one to push her out the door.
“God hasn’t done a very good job of protecting.” The instant it was out of his mouth, shame filled him. And anger—at himself. He was tired of bottling so much anger.
“Still blaming God?” She inclined her head. “If He’s not good at protecting, why is Parker on his way home with his mom as we speak? Why are you still here, for that matter? Do you know how close you were to death when the boat hit you?” She sighed. “I’m going to get the car. While I’m gone, you’d best think about the worm chewing a hole in your heart. Slay it soon, or it’ll steal the best part of you.”
She spun on her heel and marched her tight jeans and purple running shoes down the sidewalk and out of his sight.
Every word she said came back to him, stabbing like ice picks. He blew out a breath, watching it puff in front of his face before disappearing. He shivered under his sweater.
There was a worm eating his heart. But he didn’t know how to slay it. Ever since meeting Celeste, he’d been able to keep it at bay, but today it had won.
How could he slay what he couldn’t define?
Fear.
Fear? Fear of what?
I need her. I’m afraid of needing her. I can survive without walking, but if I give her my heart, if I trust God the way Aunt Sally said, I might not survive another blow. What if God takes her from me?
The fear he lived with now was easier than the fear he’d take on if he committed to Celeste and Parker. The earth would keep spinning if anything happened to him, but his world would collapse into a pile of rubble if he married Celeste and lost her or Parker.
The only way to deal with the worm was to give it a corner to live in.
And to keep those closest to him out.