Under the Christmas Star (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

  She leaned forward, chin resting on one palm, elbow on her knee. “You’re not, you know.”

  “What? A sinner?”

  “Old.” She grinned at him, and he felt heat spread across his neck. Good grief, was he actually blushing? He’d not done that in years.

  “Here, take this and put it on the tree, whippersnapper.” He held up the string of lights. She pushed herself off the floor and took them from him.

  “Ha, ha. Whippersnapper, huh?”

  “It’s what us senior citizens all say.” Though he focused on the next string of lights, Beau couldn’t help but grin.

  “I’ve known my fair share of senior citizens, Beau, and you’re nothing like them.”

  “Yeah?” He glanced up at Shelby who was standing over him, hand held out.

  “Yeah. Come on, I need your help putting the star on the top.” He grabbed her hand and let her try to tug him up. “Whoa! What do they feed you on that ranch of yours?”

  “Beef mostly.”

  “Funny.” Shelby grabbed his hand with both of hers and really pulled. He finally had pity on her and used the coffee table to leverage himself up not his feet.

  “Where’s the tree topper?”

  She handed him a star made of porcelain and delicate scrollwork. “This is beautiful.” He turned it over in his hands. “I really hope I don’t drop this.”

  “Me, too.” She pointed to the top of the tree. “Put it just there, okay?”

  He nestled the tree topper onto the highest branch he could reach. “How’s that?”

  “I like it.” She hugged herself and gave him a great big smile. “Let’s get the ornaments on.”

  “Sure.” They dug into the boxes, pulling out ornaments collected across several generations of Anne’s family. By the time they were done decorating not only the tree but the whole house, Shelby melted into the couch and refused to move.

  “I think we did a great job.” She hid a yawn behind her hand. “Can’t remember when I’ve been this tired.”

  He grabbed his coat from the hook next to the door. He knew a cue to leave when he heard one. “Well thanks for the great evening, Shelby. Get some rest, and I’ll see you on Monday, bright and early.”

  “Thanks, Beau. I had a great time.” She took a small step forward and biting her lip put her arms around his shoulders and hugged him. He could get used to this. She pulled back and gave him a shy smile. “Until Monday.”

  He walked out of the cottage feeling like he was ten feet tall and could take on the world. He couldn’t wait for Monday to roll around.

  The following Monday was hectic as they usually were on the Ranch. With most of the basic remodeling and renovation done, Shelby’s focus for the next few weeks was on the Christmas pageant. She’d already pored over old family albums, interviewed the ranch hands who’d attended them, and asked Anne question after question. She didn’t want to recreate them but wanted to bring that tradition into something new going forward. Despite her misgivings when she first began, Shelby found herself having a lot of fun.

  The notebook in front of her contained all her notes and ideas about the party. The next item on the list was music. She rested her chin on her palm, elbow on the desk. Where in the world was she going to get music this late in the season? The first two people she’d called were booked all the way through the new year. It was time to think outside the box. The problem was she didn’t know anything about music boxes.

  She groaned and let her forehead fall onto the kitchen table with a thud. Even her thoughts were getting punny. She needed a change of scenery. Her stomach growled. Make that a change of scenery and something to eat.

  “Hey, everything okay in here?” Beau stuck his head into the kitchen. “Or do we need to call in reinforcements?”

  She raised her hand and waggled it a bit. “It’s tolerable.” She raised her head and rested her chin on her forearm, which rested along the table top. “Just coming to the conclusion that music isn’t my forte.”

  “I’m sure you’ll come up with something.” He gave her a smile that curled her toes. “I’ve got some chores to do today and won’t be back until after sunset. You going to be okay here by yourself?”

  “Of course,” said Shelby, closing the journal shut. “And you’re right. I’ll figure it out.”

  “Okay, I’ll see you later then?”

  “Dinner is at six, my place. I’m trying a new recipe tonight.”

  “It’s not tofu, is it?” Beau’s hesitant tone made her reconsider her dinner plans.

  “If I say no but I use tofu, is that lying?” She held her hands up and moved them up and down like a scale. “Technically?”

  “Yes, Shelby,” he said dryly. “It’s lying. No technicality about it.”

  “Fine then. I won’t say no.” She grinned at him, and he groaned. “You’ll like it. I promise.” She moved toward him and, much to her delight, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her. “Be safe.”

  “Of course.” He pulled himself from her embrace and winked at her before strolling through the house. His merry whistling faded away as he moved out to the yard. She was thrilled he hugged her, but now her arms felt empty. That would be the downside of having a relationship. She grinned. She was in a relationship! She couldn’t wait to tell Anne.

  Her phone buzzed, and the name that scrolled across the top was Ed’s Garage. She tapped the green icon to accept the call. “Hey Ed, this is Shelby. Is my car ready yet or not?”

  “Uh, this is Pedro, Miss Shelby,” said the voice on the other end of the line. “Mr. Ed say your car ready to go. He should be there any minute with it.”

  A honk from outside had Shelby jogging out the front door and onto the porch. Ed was sitting in the driver seat of her beat-up car and waved wildly at the sight of her.

  “Yeah, I see him. Thanks, Pedro.”

  She waved and went back inside to grab her things. When she came out again, Ed had moved from the driver’s seat to the passenger’s. She opened the door with ease. “Well, that’s new.”

  “What’s that, lass?” Ed’s head swayed back and forth to the brat-a-tat-tat of Little Drummer Boy coming from her speakers.

  “Wow. What else did you fix?”

  “Why are you air-quoting at me?” He narrowed his eyes at her. “I just fixed the things that needed fixing.”

  “Right. So, you fixed the door, so it actually opens and the radio, so it picks up a new station.”

  “No, I dinna fix the radio.” He tapped the radio. “I replaced it altogether.”

  “Ed!” Embarrassment tingled along her skin. “You can’t do that. I don’t even know how much it cost.”

  “Don’t worry about it, darlin’. I even got the engine working.” He nodded toward the front of the car. “Give ‘er a whirl.”

  Shelby pressed her lips into a single line and did as she was told. The engine purred like a loud and obnoxious kitten. She gaped at Ed. “It actually sounds like a real engine and not a revved-up sewing machine.” She listened again and then narrowed her eyes. “Wait a minute. You didn’t replace the motor, did you?”

  Ed fidgeted in his seat. “Not precisely, no. Here, just give the old girl a try.” He folded his hands in his lap and looked at her, eyes shining.

  She groaned and put it in drive. If she wasn’t so mad at Ed for overstepping his boundaries, she would have wept with joy. The car not just worked. It was an actual pleasure to drive. By the time she pulled into the garage’s driveway, she was smiling.

  “See? I knew you couldn’t be mad at me for long.” Ed unbuckled his seat belt and swung the door open. It too moved like it was on greased hinges. For all she knew, it was. He was about to close the door when Shelby thought of something.

  “Hey Ed?”

  He bent down to look back in the car. “Yes, lass?”

  “First, thank you for all the hard work you put into my car. I do appreciate your thoughtfulness.”

  His face turned ruddy, and his smile about cracked
his face in two. “You’re welcome. It was a pleasure.”

  “Right. So, tell me,” she looked over the peeling paint on the hood. “Why not just give it a paint job, too?”

  His face turned serious. “I thought about it but it would’ve been another few weeks, and I don’t know when the weather will turn bad. It was better to get it to you than not.” He thumped the top of the car causing her to jump. “But I’ll do it if you want! Just bring it in.”

  Shelby hung her head. There was no joking with him. “It’s fine, Ed, really. It’ll be like camouflage. That way thieves won’t steal it because it’ll look like a broken-down car.”

  “That’s what I was thinking the whole time.” He winked at her one last time and then shut the door with a gentle push. “Just make sure you drop that painting off next time you’re down this way.”

  Now all she had to do was to equate a painting to the total work Ed had done on the car. She rubbed her forehead. He wasn’t making this easy.

  She pulled out of the driveway and—on a whim—decided to stop by the gallery on Main Street. Surely, Miss d’Neal had reviewed her portfolio by now. Excitement built in her stomach. If she reviewed it favorably, it would help her considerably. Shelby parked the car across the street from the gallery and couldn’t quite get her hands to unclench from the steering wheel.

  “Come on Shelby you can do this. Beau liked your painting. Ya Ya loves your paintings. You need to go get an unbiased opinion of your work.” She took a deep breath and yanked her hands from the steering wheel. Crowing triumphantly, she grabbed her purse and hurried over to the double glass doors that led into the showroom.

  She swung one door open, and as she stepped into the cool room, the gentle chatter of women’s voices ceased. She searched for the source of the voices and found them at the back, next to the very small checkout stand. Dana Pavey, clutching a bag that’d seen better days, whipped her head and followed Verity’s sour gaze to Shelby.

  “Excuse me, dear,” said Verity. She bent over, so she was out of Shelby’s sight just for a second and popped back up with a black portfolio in her hand. “It’ll just be a minute.”

  Dana didn’t say anything, just nodded. She turned her nose up at Shelby before marching over to inspect a painting on the furthest wall from Shelby.

  Verity strode toward Shelby and upon reaching her, gently took her elbow and forced her to move back toward the front door.

  “Did you look over my portfolio?” The excitement she felt had drained away and left only the rampaging butterflies that bombarded her stomach.

  The gallery owner looked down her long, thin nose and nodded curtly. “I did, young lady. And I have to say I’m very disappointed. How could you do this to poor Dana? The girl’s been through so much already and now you.” The tirade ended with a glare. “And to think I nearly offered you a spot in my gallery.” She sniffed at Shelby. “Get out. And don’t darken my doorstep ever again.”

  Shelby’s mind raced, but she couldn’t think of anything that would’ve caused such a reaction. “I’m sorry, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Of course, you don’t,” said Verity, her acerbic tone cutting into Shelby. “Well, let me show you.” She grabbed Shelby’s elbow and yanked her so hard that Shelby tripped trying to keep up with her. They turned the corner, and Shelby froze. In front of her hung one of her paintings. One that she’d left at the motel. The ice that froze her began to heat and become a raging inferno.

  “That’s my painting,” she hissed. “I didn’t give anyone permission to place it in your gallery.”

  “I beg your pardon.” Verity drew herself to her full height. “It most certainly is not. This painting,” she pointed a bony finger at a canvas Shelby had poured herself into and was a piece of her soul, “is full of passion balanced by a delicate touch with the brush. There’s no way you could have produced such a masterpiece.” She folded her arms over her washboard chest. “You haven’t the talent. And I’ve known Dana Pavey all her life. It’s something I’d expect from her.”

  Shelby shook so hard that her teeth rattled against each other. “Really?” she said through clenched teeth. “Why don’t we ask Dana what that means.” She pointed to the small kanji character, a small Japanese character that meant Shelby, under the unidentifiable signature. She should have taken the stupid paintings with her that day, or put them all in the car before she’d left. She knew that Dana had been jealous, but this went way beyond that. Dana was stealing from her now.

  “What character?” Verity narrowed her eyes and bent over to examine the painting more closely. “Is that kanji?”

  “Oh yes.” Shelby’s jaw ached from clenching it so tightly. “Ask Dana what it means—without looking it up on the internet.”

  Verity’s eyes snapped to Shelby’s. “I’ll do no such thing. You’re obviously lying for reasons only known to yourself. I’ll ask you to leave my gallery one last time before I call the police.”

  “Fine. But she,” Shelby stabbed a finger in Dana’s direction, “is a bald-faced liar.” She leaned around Verity and shouted, “And you’ll be hearing from my lawyer.” Shelby turned on her heel and stormed out of the gallery.

  “Well, this is a nice change from Shelby’s car.” Anne patted the armrest. “Come to think of it, anything is better than Shelby’s car.”

  “Not sure how I should take that.” Beau snorted with laughter. He looked in his rearview mirror at the receding view of the convalescent home. “Are you sure you didn’t want to wait for Peter?”

  Anne waved a hand and let it fall into her lap. “He’ll be fine. After all, if he wants to see if I’m okay, he knows where I live.”

  Beau suppressed a smile. Anne had no problem speaking her mind when she felt the world needed to hear what she had to say. Which was a lot. He wasn’t quite sure, but it seemed like the nurses were overly relieved to see her go home. Maybe he should talk to Shelby and send them flowers.

  “What are you smiling about over there, young man?” Anne folded her hands in her lap. She was the perfect picture of primness. “You look like the cat who got into the cream.”

  “Just thinking about Shelby.” Once the words were out, he realized how they must have sounded. Anne had raised her eyebrow and studied him. He felt a flush creep across the back of his neck. “Sorry, that’s not what I meant.”

  “Mmm. You’ve been spending quite a bit of time with her.” It was a statement rather than a question, so he didn’t answer, but he did nod. He wouldn’t lie about it. “Good. She needs to get out more.”

  Now he did chuckle. “She’s a real homebody, isn’t she?”

  “I’d say more of an introvert. She likes going out if it’s on her terms and doesn’t involve hordes of people.”

  Beau nodded. That’s the conclusion he’d come to as well. “Shelby told me some of how you two met.”

  “She did, did she?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Beau felt the full weight of Anne’s stare. It was disconcerting, to say the least. Eventually, he felt it shift away from him, and he let out a pent-up breath.

  She was staring out the car door window, watching the scenery whiz by as they made their way back into the higher elevations of the Sierras. “I’ve known Shelby, oh let’s see… how long?” She was silent for a moment, thinking about it. “She’s twenty-five now, so about ten years.” She shook her head. “Seems just like yesterday that I found her rummaging through the kitchen garbage.”

  “What?” Beau blinked a few times. “Did you just say she went through the kitchen garbage?”

  “Yes, dear, I did. You must understand that she didn’t realize she was digging through the garbage of a mission kitchen.” Her hands were clenched together now, rather than laying primly on her lap. “I’m sure she would have come in otherwise. As it was, she was poor and hungry and didn’t care at that point.” She smiled, the wrinkles at the corners of her eyes multiplying. “Neither Thomas nor I knew a thing about teenagers. Only that God
had put one in our lives to care for like our own. She was a tough nut, but I tell you what.” Anne tapped her finger on the dashboard with authority. “Once you’ve got her love, there’s no better friend.”

  “Or daughter?” The shock he felt had abated somewhat. Shelby hadn’t said anything about how she had met Anne. Just that she had.

  “Or daughter,” agreed Anne. “We tried to adopt her, but by the time we got through the court system and found her closest living relative, she’d turned eighteen and was considered an adult anyway.” She shrugged. “She wanted to take our last name but couldn’t get the permission from her family. What remained of it anyway.”

  “What happened to her family?”

  “It broke from drug use, an early death, neglect.” When he glanced over and saw her shoulders had rounded and her head drooped. “Unfortunately, she wasn’t the first one like that to cross the threshold of our outreach kitchen.”

  She held up a finger. “But she’s the only one that tried. And she did try so hard that first year, unlearning all the bad habits she’d picked up.” She ran a finger under her eye and sniffled once. “You see, she wanted to change. Saw the good around her. The world hadn’t beat it out of her by that point.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out. “She came to love us and eventually the Lord. We were so thankful when she accepted Christ.” She turned her head to him, love shining from her eyes. “She’s loyal to a fault, our Shelby.”

  Beau tightened his fingers on the steering wheel. Our Shelby. “I don’t know if I’ve earned that kind of trust and,” he stumbled over the word, “love. Not yet anyway.”

  Anne laughed, a soft, girlish trill. “Has she shown you her artwork?” The look she gave him made Beau think she already knew the answer. So, he nodded. She reached over and patted his arm. “Then you’ve got her trust, at least. The love part?” She raised an eyebrow in his direction. “That remains to be seen.” She folded her hands over her skirt-covered knee. “Do you want her love?” she asked softly—almost so soft he didn’t hear her over the rumble of the truck’s engine.