Page 60 of Must Love Christmas

Simon nodded without looking up. He’d worried this would happen in public, but he’d been determined not to hide himself away at home.

“Did you see that?” the young mother across the aisle said to her friend. “He just moved his legs. He doesn’t need that chair.”

Garen whipped round to face her. “Not everyone in a wheelchair is completely paralyzed. Moving one’s legs doesn’t mean one can walk a great distance.”

Oh God.Simon’s scalp suddenly felt too tight, too hot. He tugged his friend’s sleeve. “Garen, please don’t—”

“You need to show some kindness,” Garen said to the young woman. “It’s Christmas, after all.”

Their section of the bus fell into an awkward silence. Simon’s face continued to burn until they arrived at their stop a few minutes later.

“You stand firm on the tree issue,” the old lady said to him as he disengaged the brakes on his chair. “I mean, erm, not ‘stand,’ but…”

“I know what you mean.” He managed a smile. “You too.”

Though the tree market was but a short distance from the bus stop, Simon had Garen push his wheelchair so they could maneuver more easily through the crowd.

“I don’t need you to defend me,” Simon said once they were underway.

“I know you don’tneedme to, but—”

“I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Garen angled the chair to avoid a café sign in the middle of the pavement readingGingerbread Lattes £1. “I should’ve let you speak for yourself.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Why not?”

“Because strangers’ ignorant opinions don’t matter to me.”Or at least they shouldn’t matter.To be honest, Simon was rattled by his first public foray in the wheelchair.

They turned beneath a banner readingEnchanted Forestand headed down a smooth path between rows of evergreens. “I can push now,” Simon said.

Instead of arguing or asking if he was sure, Garen simply let go and moved to walk beside him.

Overall, Garen had shown just the right amount of concern and care this week, neither hovering over Simon nor ignoring him entirely. He’d offered help upon request but otherwise had let Simon overcome challenges on his own—until tonight’s bus ride, at least.

Garen stopped. “We’re in the wrong section.” He pulled his hair back from his face with both hands and interlaced his fingers behind his head—a gesture which, Simon had noticed, seemed to help him think. “These trees look very piney.”

“Let’s ask this guy.” Simon wheeled his chair toward a burly man in a green jacket with the Enchanted Forest logo on the back. “Pardon me, but would you direct us to the Fraser Firs?”

The man turned and looked over Simon’s head, then down at his face. “Oh. Yeah.” He saw Garen approaching and spoke to him. “What size do you want?”

“What do you think?” Garen asked Simon, perhaps realizing the tree man had spoken to him instead of to the person who’d asked the question.

“Our ceiling’s pretty high,” Simon said, “but mind, you’ll be the one putting the lights and ornaments on the top part.”

“Hmm, I am rather short and clumsy. So two meters tall, max?”

“This way,” the tree seller said, once again only to Garen.

Simon demurred Garen’s offer of assistance. “I’ll follow you.”

Easier said than done, he discovered. Despite his grippy gloves, his tired hands kept slipping off one or the other wheel rim, making his progress halting and crooked. Garen looked back with concern, then turned away at Simon’s warning scowl.

I can do this.Simon took a deep breath, planted his palms on the wheel rims, and pushed.

A young woman suddenly crossed his path. “Oh!” She jumped out of the way, her swinging handbag nearly bashing him in the face. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

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