Under the Christmas Star

by Amanda Tru

  “Oh no! No, no.” Shelby set the cup down and rushed around the desk to put her arms around his shoulders. “She’s fine. Well, she broke her leg, and she’s at the hospital in Bishop, but she’s fine other than that.”

  She gave him a squeeze and let go. His fingers uncurled from the arms of the chair. It was sweet the way he cared so much for Anne. She hoped one day that Anne would see it too.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you, Ed, but that’s why I’m here. My car wouldn’t start last night, and I had to leave it at the motel. Is there any way you can fix it for me, so I can drive down to see Anne?” She pulled out the—very—thin wallet from her coat pocket. “I have some cash for a down payment. I’ll have more once I find a new job.”

  Ed wiped his hand over his face, the square-ends of his fingers making a mess out of the shaggy eyebrows. She wanted to lean over and smooth them back into place but didn’t dare. He was fussy about them for some reason.

  “Did you just offer to pay me to fix your car?” He slowly turned his head, rheumy blue eyes slightly narrowed at her. He stood from his chair, making Shelby take a few steps back. Leaning over her, he said softly, “Tell me I didn’t hear that.”

  Shelby stood straighter and held onto her wallet for dear life. She could see why his employees both loved and feared him. Taking her own life into her hands, she nodded once. “I did. I’m not begging for handouts.”

  He growled, but the expected roaring did not commence. “You’ve hurt me, lass. Cut me to the core.” He thumped his chest. “Have I not been a good friend to ya?”

  “Yes, Ed, you have, and I’m blessed to know you,” said Shelby, still clutching the wallet. Thoughts raced through her head, and she grabbed hold of the first one that seemed like it would help. “I didn’t mean to insult you. As a matter of fact, it was really a compliment—that you are worthy of payment.”

  She nodded so hard the pom-pom at the top of her beanie whacked her in the nose. She pushed it back with an annoyed flick of her hand. “Tell you what I’ll do. How about I give you a down payment of,” she looked in the wallet and, with her stomach clenched, pulled out the only large bill she had, “fifty dollars.”

  “Flattery isn’t going to get you anywhere today, lass,” said Ed, stroking his chin and smoothing the hair back into place. “No, I think I’ll be needing a painting from ya.”

  Shelby’s chest tightened, and it hurt to breathe. “You want… one of my paintings?”

  “Yes, that’ll do.” He gave her a decisive nod, ignoring her spluttering. “A painting for a car repair.”

  The door swung open, and the bright morning light streamed through, blinding Shelby. Then, like a rain cloud blocking the sun, Beau stepped into Ed’s office. He looked at Ed first then at the cash Shelby clenched in her hand. One of his dark eyebrows shot up. Great, just what she needed. A witness to her humiliation.

  “Thank you so much, Ed,” said Shelby as she thrust the cash at him. He took it reflexively, rather than because he wanted to. His surprise turned into a long frown, making his beard droop alarmingly low. “Now about a loaner car…”

  “Actually,” said Beau taking a step forward and blocking Shelby from talking to Ed. “I’ll need the loaner today. Seems my truck needs some work done to repair a dent in the front fender, and I’ve got to go back to Bishop.”

  Shelby felt flames heat her cheeks and hoped that Ed hadn’t noticed. That was too much to ask for because they were both staring at her. She clenched the wallet, ignoring how the zipper pressed into the scrape along the palm of her hand.

  “Well isn’t that a great coincidence,” said Ed, clapping one bear-sized hand on Beau’s shoulder. “Shelby’s got to go to Bishop, too. Why don’t I let you both borrow the loaner since you’re going in the same direction?”

  “Oh, no. You don’t have to do that.” Shelby shook her head, sending the tail of her braid flying and giving Ed her most pathetic look. She did not want to be stuck with Beau in the car for two hours. “I mean, surely there’s another way to get down to Bishop to see Anne.”

  “There’s always the bus.” Beau leaned one shoulder against the wall, his lips shaped into a sardonic smile. “It’ll only take you four hours with all the stops it makes along the way.”

  Ed snorted a laugh as he dug around the big desk drawer and, for a moment, Shelby seriously considered telling Ed that’s precisely what she was going to do. Then the memory of the one and only bus ride she’d taken flashed through her mind. She shuddered. It was better to ride with Beau.

  She was about to tell them that when Ed cried out in triumph and shook the loaner car’s keys. He tossed them to Beau, who caught them in one hand.

  “Thanks, Ed, I’ll get her back to you in one piece,” said Beau. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his sheepskin jacket and pushed the door out of his way. He squinted against the sunlight streaming into the office and was gone. The door swung shut, dimming the room.

  Shelby took a step to follow him when the weight of Ed’s hand fell on her shoulder. She tilted her head back and wasn’t surprised to see his eyes glossy with tears.

  “Shelby, say hello to Anne for me. And tell her,” he hesitated for a second and shook his head. “Just tell her that she will be missed.”

  “I will.” Shelby gave him a quick hug and hurried out the door after Beau. He was probably on the road by now, the way he high-tailed it out of the office.

  She raised her hand to block the bright sunlight in the small parking lot. She scanned the cars and found him standing by the passenger side of the car, fingers tapping against one jean-clad thigh. She slowed down when he pulled the car door open for her.

  “Thanks,” said Shelby, coming to a standstill in front of the car door. She shifted from one foot to the other when the silence became too much. “I need to go to the hospital to see my friend.”

  “The one who broke her leg,” said Beau, frowning as he pulled the passenger door open further. “I remember. Hop in. I’m already late.”

  “Late for what?” Shelby ducked inside the beat-up car. At least the inside was cleaner than the outside. She chided herself for thinking that of Ed. It might not be pretty, but it was well taken care of.

  “Was supposed to be in Bishop at nine,” Beau grunted as the car started right up. She guessed he had the same reservations about it as she did. Gravel crunched as the car pulled out of the drive and onto the highway. “Have a meeting with a feed supplier.”

  “Oh.”

  That was the sum total of their conversation for a while. If he’d been Ed or Anne, she could’ve poked him into talking to her. He wasn’t, so she silently rehearsed her apology to Anne. It didn’t take her long to get bored with it, though. She peeked over at Beau. He was still lost in his thoughts.

  He had such a strong profile. Her fingers itched, so she gave in to the urge to sketch him. She pulled the small sketchbook and fountain pen from her coat pocket. She held the pen awkwardly since the wrap job she’d done on her hand that morning wasn’t nearly as tight as Beau’s from the night before.

  It took only a moment to flip the journal to a clean page and begin to lay down a line. Every few moments, she’d look up and still find him lost in his thoughts. Finally, the jumbled mess of ink began to form a cohesive image. That’s when Shelby discovered that she’d drawn a bump on the bridge of his nose. She glanced up to study him and found him giving her a sideways glance.

  “What are you doing?”

  She saw that his nose did indeed have a small ridge where it had been broken at some time. At least she wasn’t imagining things.

  “Did you break your nose at some point?”

  “My nose?” Beau turned his gaze back to the road and shrugged. “A couple of times. Every kid does.”

  “I never did,” said Shelby, tapping the bridge of her nose. “But I did break my arm once. Taught me not to climb trees after the cat.”

  “I did too. Twice,” said Beau. He added, “Although, it was different times on oppos
ite arms. You didn’t answer my question.”

  “It’s nothing, really.” She closed the journal and wound the band that kept it together back around it. “Just some sketching. Keeps me occupied on long drives.”

  He made a noncommittal sound in the back of his throat and looked back at the road. If there had been crickets in the car, they would’ve been the only thing making a sound.

  Beau cleared his throat, pulling her attention back to him.

  “So, tell me about yourself, Shelby. I like to know something about my employees, other than their first and last names.”

  “I’m not your employee,” said Shelby, irritation slashing through her. She’d have to remind him that she wasn’t his employee after all. “Remember? I didn’t take the job.”

  “Not yet, anyway,” said Beau, giving her a sidelong glance. “I’m still holding out hope, though, because despite what you think, it’s a real offer. Not one offered out of pity.”

  “Right.” She refused to meet his gaze. Instead, she looked out the window at the rapidly-passing scenery. The leaves had fallen from the trees, and only the pines held any color. She focused her attention on the road ahead, hoping Beau would get the hint that she was ignoring him.

  “Okay, you don’t have to work for me. Still, I don’t know anything about you. Well, other than what I’ve heard around town.”

  Apparently, he hadn’t gotten the hint. She whipped her head around to see if he was serious. His facial expression hadn’t changed. It seemed like he was telling the truth.

  “What did you hear about me?” Better to ask now than to find out later.

  “Only that you and Anne moved into this cottage earlier in the year.” He shrugged one shoulder, the sheepskin jacket moving easily. “And that you take care of her, despite her… oh, what’s the word I’m looking for?”

  “Grumpiness?”

  “I guess that’s one word for it,” he said, his tone amused even if he hadn’t cracked a smile. “And that Mrs. Tulare crosses the street when she sees you coming.”

  “She shouldn’t have been mean to us then,” said Shelby, huffing and crossing her arms across her chest. “It’s amazing what people think they can get away with because of their age.”

  “I think it’s more of her social standing than her age,” replied Beau, his mouth set in a firm line. “From what I understand, you’re doing a great job helping Anne.”

  She couldn’t tell if he was joking or not. His face was set into a serious expression, like it had been made of stone. What would it take to make it crack?

  “Anne needs it,” said Shelby, turning her attention to the radio. She tapped the on-off switch and static immediately filled the car. “Otherwise it’s just Peter.”

  “You don’t like him?” Beau, keeping the steering wheel steady with one hand, reached over to turn the radio off. The static disappeared, and silence descended.

  “Peter and I both love Anne.” That was about as tactful a way as she could put it. She reached over and tapped the on button again. Static rose but with an occasional voice coming through.

  He didn’t even look at the radio when he reached over to shut it off.

  “He’s had some rough times too,” said Beau, tapping the wheel with his index finger. “Anne’s all the family he’s got left. I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.”

  “Family is important to you?” She leaned forward and tapped the radio once more. He, just as quickly, shut it off again. She grinned as she reached forward.

  He blocked her hand just before she could press the power button again.

  “Would you please stop doing that?” His voice was strained as he glared at her. “It’s ridiculous.”

  She burst out laughing, unable to contain herself anymore. Tears of mirth fell down her face until she was totally spent.

  “Are you done?”

  “Yes,” said Shelby, hiccupping. “I haven’t laughed that hard in I don’t know how long. Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome… I think,” said Beau, rolling his eyes. “Do you really want to listen to the radio? There isn’t much signal until closer to Bishop.”

  Shelby felt the laughter begin to bubble up again and fought to stop it from spilling forth.

  “No, it’s fine. I just was teasing you.” She studied his serious expression. “That doesn’t happen to you much, does it?”

  “Not often enough, I suppose.” Beau ran a hand over his head. “And yes, family is very important to me.”

  “Good to know,” said Shelby, switching mental gears on the fly. She settled back into her seat, a smile on her face. “I haven’t any family.”

  She blinked slowly. Now, why did I tell him that? Only Anne knew about her family—or lack of it. The words had just slipped out without her thinking about them.

  “My mom and my step-mother have both gone home to be with the Lord,” said Beau, his voice strained. A few seconds later, he said in a softly added, “It’s not easy, is it?”

  She shook her head. “No, but at least we know where they are, right?”

  “Yes, we do,” said Beau and gave her a lovely smile. He nodded to the road sign that declared Bishop was ten miles away. “Almost there.”

  Disappointment crawled through her and settled on her heart. She was finally enjoying herself, now that she’d managed to crack Beau’s serious facade. She stole a glance at him as he was navigating the town’s streets. Her attention was finally grabbed by the large, modern-looking building surrounded by grass lawns.

  “Ask Peter about me,” said Beau, breaking the silence. “He’s done a few odd jobs for me in the past. He can recommend me as an employer.”

  Shelby pulled her attention away from the large hospital and considered his offer once more.

  “And we were doing so well, too.”

  “Can’t fault a guy for trying, right?” He hopped out and swung her door open. “I’ll be back in a few hours. Meet me out here, okay?

  “Will do,” said Shelby, snapping a poorly formed salute. He stepped back so she could slide out. She meant for it to be graceful, like a swan gliding on the still surface of a pond. Instead, she felt more like a dozen clowns disembarking from a tiny car. She gathered her dignity around her like a shield and, ignoring Beau’s amusement, headed into the hospital.

  Shelby stepped through the sliding glass doors and located the front desk. It stood to the side of the lobby, manned by a small, white-haired lady wearing a pink smock. She was reading a mystery by Louise Penny and not paying attention to the lobby. Shelby stopped in front of the attendant and waited to be noticed. It took a few page turns, but finally, the lady glanced up.

  “Hi there,” said Shelby, with some relief. I’m here to visit Anne Morris.”

  “Sign in, please.” The attendant handed her a generic white name badge. “Here’s your badge. Please wear it while in the hospital. Visiting hours are from eight to eight. And Ms. Morris is on the second floor, room two-two-three.”

  “Thanks,” said Shelby as she pinned the badge to her shirt. She turned and nearly ran into a large, red-faced man striding through the lobby at full speed. She took a step back and gave him a weak smile. “Excuse me.”

  He barely nodded at her before walking past the front desk and the disapproving look of the attendant. Shelby gave her a reassuring smile and headed to the elevator, thankful for the short ride. Any longer and the muzak piped through would have turned her brain into mush.

  “The food isn’t fit for dogs,” said Peter, his reedy voice carrying along the white-tiled hallway. Shelby winced. If she didn’t know which room Anne was in, she did now. All she had to do was follow his voice. “And I’ll tell you another thing…”

  Shelby hurried down the hallway and found Peter standing toe-to-toe with a short but very broad nurse, shouting at her. The litany of wrongs done to him by the staff could have filled a book. The nurse’s impassive face gradually gave way to a disgusted sneer. She didn’t even look like she was trying to hide her frustration w
ith Peter. Of course, that wouldn’t faze him one bit as Shelby knew from past experience. Best to put herself in the line of fire before it got out of hand.

  “Hi there, Peter,” said Shelby, stepping between the irate man and the nurse. “Is there something wrong?”

  He glared at her, the wispy remains of his gray hair stuck out in all directions like he’d put a finger in an electric socket. If the smell was any indication, he hadn’t changed his plaid shirt in a few days. Soap and Peter were not on speaking terms again, it seemed.

  “Annie needs something more than a few bites of food,” said Peter, jabbing a finger at the nurse. “And she refuses to feed my sister. It’s criminal!”

  “Sir, like I said before, meals are served at specific times of the day. We served breakfast an hour ago. And,” said the nurse, eyebrows lowered, “her food disappeared completely from her plate.”

  “Are you implying that I ate her food?” Peter’s question ended on a high-pitched squeak. “That’s slanderous! I won’t have it.”

  “Whoa there, Peter,” said Shelby holding a hand out to ward him off. “No one is saying that.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that.” The nurse crossed her arms over her chest. “Seems like a pretty healthy appetite for a woman who weighs a hundred pounds soaking wet. Especially for food not fit to feed to a dog.”

  “Well, it’s obvious to me,” Shelby gave the nurse a look that she hoped would translate into ‘trust me, I know what I’m doing,’ “that Anne’s appetite is a great indicator of how well she’s being taken care of. Is it possible that her body needs more calories to heal well?”

  Oh please say yes. Shelby gave the nurse an encouraging nod. Play along.

  “Anything’s possible, I guess. But,” said the nurse, “hospital rules state we can’t give her another meal until lunch.”

  “Now see here, you,” began Peter and any gratitude Shelby felt toward the nurse evaporated.

  “Not a problem,” said Shelby, interrupting Peter’s burgeoning tirade. The smile she gave everyone began to tighten until she knew if she didn’t do something soon, her face would crack into a million pieces. “Would buying something from the hospital cafeteria for her be against the rules?”