Chapter 9

Heather took a gulp from her water bottle. She could do one more exercise. She would put her body through many intense workouts from abdominals, back, thighs, and lifting weights. She would dab the sweat away from her forehead and encourage her students to persevere. 

“The last exercise,” Allen said. “You will be on your stomach.”

Heather turned face down on the mat. “Okay, now what?”

“You’ll lift your leg up into hip extension,” he said.

She pressed her hands into the mat as she lifted her leg. She pulled her lips in tight, hoping she could do ten, but by the time she reached five, she rested her leg.

“Think you can do the last five?” Allen asked.

Heather rested her forehead on the mat. Shaking her head, a feeling of heaviness settled in her body. The pain in her throat increased as she tried not to cry. She hoped she would be back on her feet in full swing, but she never felt this helpless.

“Heather?” Allen said, his voice sounding concerned.

She covered her face with her hands. Breathing in deeply, she tried to settle down.

“If you’re through for the day, it’s fine. It’ll get better.”

She sniffled and turned to her side to sit up. Allen helped her, and this time she didn’t pull away. He handed her a tissue from the box on her coffee table.

Heather took it and wiped her nose. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, I shouldn’t be emotional about this.”

“Why not? It’s part of the process,” he said.

Her eyes met his. “So all your patients are like this?”

“A few. Some have been through some trauma with their injuries. It takes time to heal from things like that.”

“I slipped on an ice patch.” She tilted her head to the side.

Allen’s lips quirked into a grin. “I had an eleven-year-old boy who was a patient of mine. He broke his arm after falling from a tree.”

Heather’s eyes widened. “Why in the world was—”

“He was trying to save his cat. Didn’t go so well. He wasn’t too happy about therapy, but I reminded him that his arm would heal. It did with time.” His eye contact with her grew firmer. “Heather, your knee will heal. You can’t rush it.”

Heather groaned. “You sound like me when I talk to my students.”

“What do you tell them?”

“A lot of them feel that if they don’t lose the weight fast, that it’s not working for them. I remind them healthiness is a lifestyle. It takes time to break in new habits.”

“So you get it,” Allen said.

Heather wiped her nose again. “I guess, but I think I’m finished for the day.”

He bobbed his head and stood to his feet. Then he held out his hand to her. “No problem. We can pick it up next time.”

Heather exhaled and placed her hand in his. Her mouth became moist, but she held his hands to steady herself on her good leg. Allen’s lips parted but that didn’t mean anything, right? Then why did his touch bring a chill to her body like a breath of winter?

“You cold?” he asked.

She shook her head.

Allen cleared his throat and released her hands. “So… I’ll see you at our next appointment.”

She shrugged. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He smiled. “Have a good one.”

Heather pressed a hand to her chest, as if it would suppress the flutters inside. “You too.”

***

Shuffling carefully through her room, Heather retrieved the black shoe box and sat on her bed. What did her father want to say? How did Sonia feel about him reaching out? They never talked about it. Then again, Sonia didn’t seem moved by the possibility. Was she willing to forgive the man?

Hearing shrieks of laughter outside made her body jerk. She pushed the box under the foot of the bed and walked to the front window. Layers of white accumulated on the roofs across the street, along with the cars, and walkways. Her next-door neighbors’ children, the Coleman’s, were having a snowball fight. She didn’t blame them since Christmas was a few weeks away.

Then Heather spotted Allen’s truck across the street at the Gomez’s home. She wouldn’t see him until tomorrow. Even at a distance, she watched as he loaded his bag in his truck.

He waved to the kids. They waved back as he got inside to leave, but when he pulled out the driveway, a snowball hit his truck. Heather covered her mouth to stifle her laugh, surprised when Allen parked at the curb and got out.

He folded his arms over his chest. “Any idea who threw that?”

She heard muffled voices from the Coleman’s children. They pointed to each other. Heather’s grin grew as Allen bobbed his head. Then he stooped to make a snowball. War broke out. Snowballs flew in the air, but the giggles from the kids and the smile on Allen’s face warmed her heart. Smiling wistfully, she barely heard her cell ring in her pocket. Heather sat in her window seat.

“How are you? Need anything?” Terrance asked.

Heather looked outside the window again at Allen. He was waving goodbye at the kids and drove off. Gazing upward, she rubbed the back of her neck.

“Heather?”

“I’m here. I’m okay, so no I don't need anything.”

“Everyone here misses you.”

“I can’t wait to get back. I hate being cooped up.”

“Please don’t hurt yourself trying to get out.”

“Ha-ha.” She rolled her eyes. “Is that the reason you called? To make fun?”

“No, I wanted to ask if I could bring you dinner.”

She shut her eyes. Terrance wasn’t a bad guy. It’s not as if she was seeing anyone. “I’d rather not, Terrance. I need to get through this before I can think about anything else.”

“It’s only dinner.”

If only that were true. “Terrance, you might as well know. I only see you as a friend.”

A heavy sigh escaped him. “That’s what I like about you. You don’t beat around the bush.”

She blew out her cheeks. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Thanks for being honest. I’ll check on you later. Get better.” He hung up.

 Heather placed her cell in her lap. She looked out the window once more but then she called her mother.

“Heather? Something wrong?”

“Please tell me you need help with the decorating. I promise I'll stay still,” she said.

“Oh, Heather.” Her mother sighed.

***

Allen took off his coat, knowing Ms. Diana would put him to work. On the stage, he saw Abigail rehearsing with the children. “Angels We Have Heard on High” sounded like cats meowing, but a smile built on his lips. His own mother never ceased to put him in the Christmas pageants growing up. 

She loved to hear him sing and even requested for him to sing at her funeral. On her deathbed, she had held his hand asking him to sing her favorite hymn, “Come Thou Fount of Every Blessing.” With teary eyes, Allen sang his mother’s favorite song. Sadly, he hadn’t sung it since that fateful day.

Walking over to one table, he saw arts and crafts. Tins cans, strings, pine cones, and felt pieces. Looking up, he saw Heather working with Emily, but when the little girl got called over to join the children’s choir on stage, she left Heather to work alone. With her leg still propped on a chair, she glued the felt pieces together. As he moved closer, Allen glanced over at one finished product. Was that an elf?

“This is part of the celebration?” he asked.

Heather lifted her chin but looked away quickly. “Yeah, the kids love the pinecone elves.”

Allen’s face scrunched up as the kids practiced “Joy to the World.”

Heather laughed. “They’re getting better.”

He sat next to her, picking up a pinecone. “I’m sure they will.”

“You didn’t sing in pageants as a kid?” she asked.

His heart clenched. “I did. My mom loved it.”

“Well… something good came out of it. You made her happy,” she said.

He bobbed his head. Then he grabbed a pair of scissors. “So… how do you do this?”

Heather pointed to the drawing on the table. “Follow the pattern here.” She leaned over, and he caught a whiff of her floral perfume. With her so close, his lips parted, but he cleared his throat. Then she showed him the blanket stitch as she made the hat for the elf.

“You hang these on the tree?” Allen asked.

“For the Christmas tree lighting. Are you coming? It’ll be a great way to meet more people,” Heather said.

“We’ll see.”

“So… no.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

She shrugged. “Seems like there’s more going on.”

He didn’t answer but lowered his gaze to the pinecone in his hand.

Then Allen saw as her hand cover her mouth for a moment. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to, so don’t feel pressured. I’m sorry. I said too much.”

He liked that about her. She would apologize if she thought she went too far. “Don’t be. It’s fine. There are a lot of memories I’m still working through.”

Her mouth dropped. “I’m so sorry. I know you told me already.”

“Don’t be.”

“I feel terrible.”

“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it. I try to remember the good times, but some things I’d rather not bring up.”

“I know the feeling.” She sighed.

“Something on your mind?” he asked.

“My dad… left us. I love Christmas because my mom made sure we came up with new traditions once he left. I love what it represents for my family.”

“I’m sorry about your dad.”

She lowered her head back to her project. “Not a big deal.”

He wanted to ask more, but he didn’t. Based on her dropped shoulders and heavy sigh, she didn’t care to talk about her absentee father. Allen diverted his gaze to his pinecone. Taking a wooden ball to use for the head, he grabbed a black marker to draw the face. He felt Heather’s gaze on him, but he didn’t dare look up.

“Good job,” she said. “Ready for the glue?”

He held out his pinecone, and she used the glue gun. “Don’t glue my fingers,” he said.

“Never.” She giggled. “I need my physical therapist.”

“He must be a good one.”

“He’s okay.”

He chuckled. “Just okay?”

“I don’t know him that well.” She locked eyes on him again. “I’m still getting to know him.”

“Maybe you’ll learn more.” Allen swallowed because of the awareness of his own heartbeat. He then attached the wooden head to his pinecone. He couldn’t pinpoint what was happening between him and Heather. She was captivating, but she was a client. He was only helping with the Christmas fair as a favor to his father. He couldn’t afford to like her.

At that moment, she held up a finished elf. With little feet and a scarf around the neck, Allen smiled at her creation. As the children sang “Frosty the Snowman,” Heather made her little elf dance mouthing the words. Allen laughed. 

Heather’s eyes sparkled, like distant stars glimmering in the darkness. She glowed as he stared. She gazed back at him, her eye contact firm. How he wanted to touch the swoop of her cheek. His fingers tingled, and it wasn’t from the felt fabric in his grasp.

“Allen!” Ms. Diana waved him over in the room's corner. “Can you help back here with the candy cane lane?”

He stood up from his seat, grateful for the diversion.

***

“Promise me you’ll go to bed and get some rest,” Heather’s mother said.

“I will.” She grabbed her crutch and unclicked her seatbelt.

“You have another session for therapy tomorrow, right?”

“Yes. Allen will be here tomorrow.” 

“He seemed to enjoy himself tonight.”

Heather’s stomach flipped. Allen’s stare unglued her. She didn’t plan on talking about her father, but with him sharing about his mother, an overall weighted feeling settled inside her chest. 

His slack expression showed his brokenness, and she didn't want Allen to feel as if she didn’t understand. While her father lived, the family she loved died the day he left. Could she forgive him for that? The jury was still out.

“Call me if you need anything,” her mother said.

Heather forced a smile as she closed the car door behind her. Waving goodbye to her mother, Heather walked to her front door. Tinsel barked at her entry and Sonia closed the book she was reading on the couch.

“How did it go?” her sister asked.

“It’s coming along.” Heather sat on the couch and Tinsel jumped in her lap. “Thanks for watching him. Mom just left.”

Sonia grabbed her coat and gloves. “Need anything else?”

Heather shook her head. “I’m good.” She wouldn’t share with Sonia about her little moment with Allen. Why did his look cause an almost electrical feeling upon meeting his eyes? Cuddling Tinsel, heat rose behind her eyelids. The thought was absurd. Allen was her physical therapist. That was all he was.

“Okay, I’ll buy it for now.” Her sister squinted her eyes. Knowing Sonia, she would wait for an opportunity to bug Heather about her love life later. “Goodnight.”

Heather nodded her head, still massaging Tinsel. Her mouth went dry. She couldn’t like Allen. It wasn’t possible. She closed her heart from all of that. 

Tinsel then climbed off her lap just as Heather grabbed her phone. She could cancel her session with him. Through the company’s app, she could cancel her appointment or request another therapist. She chose the former. 

Reasons came on the screen per her request. Family grievance? Sick? Schedule conflict? Heather groaned, not wanting to lie. The option of “I think I’m crushing on my therapist” wasn’t available.

***

Heather scratched at her throat. Tinsel rested at her feet and she tucked her blanket underneath her chin. She hated being sick and though it was only a cold, Heather despised the muscle weakness. Even her taste buds were off, so she couldn’t enjoy the potato soup her mother brought over.

“You sure you don’t want anymore?” Her mother asked, putting back on her coat.

“I’m fine.” She slowly blinked her eyes. “I just want to sleep.”

Her mother came over and kissed her forehead. “Then sleep and I’ll check on you later.”

Heather didn’t respond but her eyes bugged when she recognized a male voice.

“Hello, Ms. Diana.”

“Allen,” her mother replied. “Nice to see you. Heather, I thought you canceled your appointment.”

Did she? Sitting up, she cupped her forehead. “I thought I did.”

“No problem, I can change the date,” he said.

Heather opened her mouth to respond, but she only dodged for another tissue. Her sneeze this time stung her throat. “Wow that hurts.”

“You need to eat something, Heather and take your medicine,” her mother said. “Allen, I have some soup in the kitchen. Make sure she eats and takes the medicine on the counter.”

Heather waved away her comment. “Mom, I can’t taste—”

“It doesn’t matter. I need to run some errands and your sister is at work. Allen, please make sure she eats.”

“Ms. Diana, I would like to help but—”

“Then that’s that. I’ll be back,” her mother said.

Heather heard the front door close. “Allen, you don’t have to; it’s not your job.”

“This must be what I’ve been hearing.”

“What?” Heather tossed her tissue in the trash and grabbed another.

“People in Maple Meadow take care of each other. We may not be doing exercises, but I am here,” he said.

Heather pulled the blanket over her shoulders. “I don’t have the energy to argue.”

She watched as Allen walked to her kitchen. He opened the container with her mother’s soup. He looked around her cabinets. “Bowls?”

She pointed. “Left-hand cabinet.”

“Spoons?”

“The drawer right below it.” She fluffed her pillow and rested her head. Closing her eyes, she relaxed. Feeling movement on the couch, she peeked to see Tinsel. He rested beside her and she rubbed his back. The microwave dinged.

“Okay, here we go,” Allen said.

Heather groaned. “I want to sleep.”

“You want to explain that to your mother?” he asked.

She lifted her chin. “You’re threatening to tell my mother?”

He shrugged. “The classics never go out of style.”

She twisted her mouth but her grin gave her away. “Well played.”

She sat up and Tinsel jumped to the floor. Allen handed her a bowl with a towel.

“You don’t have a fever do you?” he asked.

“No, it’s just a cold.”

“Aches? Runny nose?”

She bobbed her head. After another spoonful, she swallowed her mother’s soup. Though she couldn’t enjoy the full taste, it warmed her chilled body.

“This says…” Allen picked up the over-the-counter medicine her mother bought. “Two every six hours.” He opened one packet and handed her two liquid gel pills.

Heather grabbed them from his hand, her fingers brushing against his skin. Directly meeting her eyes, Allen stared. Heather swallowed both pills, not breaking eye contact.

“Okay?” He tilted his head to the side.

She gave a faint smile and handed him her bowl. “Thank you.”

He took it just as Tinsel stood on his hind legs and rested his paws Allen’s thigh. He petted the dog and then stood to take her bowl to the kitchen.

“You’ll be okay until your mom gets back?” he asked.

“If not, I can call my sister.”

He walked back over, his eyes widening slightly.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m okay. I hate to leave you like this but—”

“Allen if you need to go, go. Thanks for what you did, even though you blackmailed me into it.”

He laughed and once again she stared.

Heather tucked a loose tendril behind her ear. “I should be okay for our next appointment.”

“If not, let me know. We can always reschedule. Get some rest.” He gestured to the door. “I’ll see myself out.”

Heather gave a slight wave, only to cover her face once he left.