Page 2 of Sexy Claus

She focused on the painted lines as the pavement ascended the ramp to the stop sign and then guided her away from the interstate. Each curve, dip, and rise seemed familiar, like she’d driven the same route yesterday or last week.

Muscle memory.

She used the technique to teach her clients new ways to do tasks they’d done easily during the “before” times. Repetition trained the body and mind to work together. Would the day ever come that she lived long enough in a new town again to build a new neural pathway as strong as this one?

Multicolored twinkles lit up the roofline, eaves, and corners of a large structure not far ahead, bringing her full attention back to the road. Her insides spun and whirled at the sight. How many times had she seen the same outline during her childhood?

Too many to count.

How many holidays had her father sent her to her grandparents’ house?

All of them.

Shoving the feelings into the imaginary box she’d created long ago, she flipped on her turn signal. Hopefully, once she nailed this door to the past shut, it wouldn’t haunt her anymore.

I can do this. Nobody even has to know I’m here.

A faint glow illuminated the lowest part of the sky in front of her, announcing her imminent arrival as much as theReduced Speed Aheadsign and the new-to-herWelcome to Creeksidestone marker.

She slowed to the new speed limit as she passed a farm equipment store that hadn’t existed when she’d lived here. Most of the homes beyond it were decorated for Christmas, as were the businesses now sprawled a few blocks farther from downtown than they used to be. A mix of cars, trucks, and SUVs filled the high school parking lot, and a pair of school buses from a neighboring town stood out in the drop-off and pickup lanes near the side entrance.

A Friday night basketball game, no doubt.

At least fewer people would be out and about when she walked to the closest restaurant for carryout after checking into the hotel. The slimmer the chances of running into someone she’d known, the better for her state of mind. Her appointment with the lawyer tomorrow morning was going to be stressful enough.

Light-up snowflakes hung from the utility poles for more than half a dozen blocks, replacing the ringing-bell design from her childhood. Not unexpectedly, some storefronts had changed and others had stayed the same. Creekside’s business district looked like any other small town in Ohio, with its mix of old brick buildings with second-floor offices or apartments and newer construction that housed restaurants and other small businesses.

Finally spotting the hotel three blocks away, she exhaled to ease some of the tension radiating through her neck and shoulders. A quiet meal in her room might let her come close to relaxing.

Almost there.

The next stoplight turned yellow, even though no cars waited at the side street. As she stopped, a bundled form in a wheelchair slowly rolled down the ramp from the sidewalk into the crosswalk. Gloved hands pushed forward on the wheels, but the progress was slow. About a third of the way across, the chair’s front wheel dropped into a pothole, sparking annoyance and an ache in Christy’s chest.

“What good is a crosswalk if it’s impassable and unsafe?” She shoved the gearshift into park, turned on her hazard lights, and shut off the engine. Tugging up her collar, she hurried toward the middle of the intersection.

A frustrated growl accompanied an ineffective attempt to dislodge the wheel. “Damn it!”

Making sure she was well within the rider’s peripheral vision, Christy paused. “Looks like the town needs to do some repair work on the road. Would you like some help?”

Rather than answer, the woman dropped her hands from the rims and lowered her chin to her chest. “It’s not like I have a choice. I’m blocking the lane, and I can’t do this by myself. I just want to go home.”

A surge of compassion melded with the automatic switch to therapist mode. “You could if there wasn’t a hole where you’re trying to go. Have you learned how to do a pop-up? I can spot you if you need help.”

“A pop-up?” Blue eyes met her gaze as wavy brown hair fell away from the young woman’s face. “You know how to drive this thing? I tried to learn, but going straight and around corners on a smooth surface is all I can do after three months of practicing.My hands are too sore to do anything else. And don’t even get me started on my back. I feel like I’ve aged a hundred years since the accident. I’m probably never going to walk again, and the insurance is waffling on whether or not they’ll pay for an electric model.”

“I absolutely understand your frustration. We can talk about the insurance stuff after we get you unstuck if you want to.” Christy crouched down to eye-level and offered a smile she actually felt for the first time today. “I’m an occupational therapist. I’ve learned how to do everything my wheelchair clients need to know, including wheelies. Since you’re new at this, I can talk you through it and be your spotter.”

“But…” Her unofficial student glanced past her and back again. “What about your car? You can’t just leave it parked in the middle of the street.”

“My flashers are on, and everybody else who comes along can sit and wait. We’re going to make sure you’re able to get across the street safely.” She cast quick glances in both directions and straightened. “All clear. Are you ready for your first lesson?”

“Um, okay. I guess.” The young woman’s hesitation spoke volumes about her wavering confidence. “So…I really appreciate you stopping. The guy who was my occupational therapist moved out of state this week, and most people are pretty awkward around me now. I’m Brenna.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Brenna. I’m Christy.” She extended her hand, glad she’d stopped to offer her support. “I’m only in town temporarily, but I’m happy to help while I’m here or until you have someone else lined up. Hands on the wheels like this.”

Guiding her new acquaintance through the proper motions to lift her front wheels, Christy savored the chance to be useful during her forced hiatus from the career she loved. Several trieslater, they finally reached the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street.

Thick wisps of fog in front of Brenna revealed the physical effort she’d exerted. “Will that ever be easy for me?”

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