Christmas Therapy

“See.”

“Don’t push it. Eat up so we can do those exercises you promised.”

“I can’t wait to work out again.”

“You always liked Pilates?”

She swallowed another spoonful of her sweet treat. Tinsel trotted along chasing his own tail a few times. “I did. It’s a lot harder than people think, but I enjoy teaching and showing others how to have a healthy lifestyle.”

Allen eyed her cup.

She grinned. “There’s nothing wrong with treating yourself now and then.”

“I didn’t say a word.”

“You work out?” she asked.

“When I can. Sometimes I meet up with Desmond at the gym for a game of basketball.”

“I used to play in high school.”

“What position?”

“Point guard. You played any sports in school?”

“Baseball and football. My parents thought I would go pro, but that was never my dream.” He paused for a moment, setting down his cup of ice cream.

“I hope I didn’t bring up bad memories again?”

He shook his head. “No, it just takes time. I’m used to my mom being a phone call away.”

“Any fun things you used to do together?” she asked.

“You’ll laugh.”

“I won’t.” She raised her hand as if taking an oath. “I promise.”

Allen ate another scoop of ice cream before answering. When he did, Heather’s heart melted. Antiquing? She never took him as the type, but by the time he finished, she wanted to wrap her arms around him. He wanted to finish the list for his mother.

“Crazy, right?” he asked.

“No, it’s… sweet. Very sweet.” Another moment between them passed, but Allen cleared his throat and extended a hand.

“Are you done?” He gave half a smile.

Heather handed him her empty Styrofoam cup. “Thank you.”

“We’ll get started when I throw these away.”

Heather looked after him as he walked to a nearby trash can. Her lips parted. The wall she had around her heart, Allen, was picking away the bricks. What was she going to do?

Then he walked back, stood in front of her, and held out both of his gloved hands. Heather pushed herself up from the bench and clasped them. Her face leveled with his broad chest, and she dared not look into his eyes.

“Can you put weight on your leg?” he asked.

Heather steadied herself as she tried, but being this close to him made hairs rise on the back of her neck. “I think so.” At least her voice didn’t crack, but she put more of her weight on her bad leg.

“Good, so far?”