Under the Christmas Star (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

  Lena lifted her gaze from the words and caught Mr. Stephens’ concerned expression. “When you forgive—wipe it clean from your mind.” She swallowed back her fear and tried again. “You become…” her throat closed, not allowing herself to finish.

  Mr. Stephens moved back to her side and leaned his forearms on his knees, clasping his hands in front of him. “I think the word you’re looking for is vulnerable. And yes, you do. But if Jesus can make Himself completely vulnerable on that cross in ways we can’t even imagine, can we try to obey Him even if it costs us a little control?”

  Her pride ached to insist that she’d known the word but just couldn’t speak. That’s when she realized she’d become fixated on anything but that forgiveness. Instead, she prayed for strength to do what he’d said. Obey.

  Lena stood, whispered strained thanks, and fled the building. She’d have to do it—do it now—or she’d find an excuse not to. As she pulled from the parking space, she saw Mr. Stevens standing there at the door, watching. Praying, she surmised. This is why the Prayer Room is such an important part of Fairbury. Someone is always praying.

  Snow began to fall as she neared Fir Street. It distracted her until she pulled up into the drive and into her garage. She ran for the house, shivering and scolding herself for leaving her coat behind at the shop. There, standing under the overhang of her back porch, stood Wayne, holding it out for her.

  “I wondered if you’d ever get here.”

  Words filled her heart and tried to spill out, but Lena couldn’t allow it—couldn’t be distracted. “Come inside. Quick. It’s cold.”

  She darted into the house and down the hall to her bedroom. There, from the thick, old Bible she’d owned as a girl, Lena extracted an envelope. Hands shaking, she dragged her way back through the house to where Wayne waited in the kitchen. She handed him the envelope.

  “Burn that,” Lena gasped out before she could stop herself.

  “What is it?”

  Fear overrode sense. “Read it. I don’t care, but then burn it.”

  While he read her written declaration never to forget what Alejandro had done to her—never to allow herself to be broken by anyone again—she set about making coffee. Arms came around her middle and held her close. His chin rested on her shoulder. “Why burn this? It’s—”

  “I must forgive and forget, Wayne. This thing—it controls me. It’s why I—” Lena turned and buried her face in his chest. And Wayne, dear, kind Wayne held her as she poured out fears of letting the past go and having it repeat itself. “It even made me doubt you. This is not right.”

  “Lena,” he whispered in that tone that warmed her heart every time she heard it. “You must forgive, of course. But we aren’t commanded to forget—”

  She jerked away from him, hands pushing him back. “No! No, Wayne. We do. We are. We are told to love—and that it does not keep a record of wrongs. This…” She snatched up the paper and shook it in his face. “This is my record of wrongs. This is why I cannot love—”

  There, once more, her voice broke. There, once more, he pulled her close and held her. This time, she wept.

  Only when he took the paper, twisted it into a “stick,” and set it on fire from the flame of the stove did the tears slow. He stood there holding it over the sink until the flames grew too close to his hand and then dropped it. It burned out there, but he doused it for good measure.

  That’s when he reached into the pocket of his overcoat and pulled out a very short-stemmed rose. “We can let the broken days separate us, Lena. Or…”

  She took it. Held it close. Inhaled the sweetness of its fragrance. “Forgive me?” she whispered.

  “That was my line. I was so stupid.”

  Who could help but smile at the sheepish grin on the man’s face—her man’s face. Her Wayne. “We were both, eh-stupid.”

  Mom was right. Again.

  The realization that he’d just thought of his mother while kissing the true love of his life prompted a groan. “You were right, Lena. I’m not romantic.”

  She gave him an odd look and pulled him to the living room couch. “I don’t know what you are saying. I think you are the most romantic man in the world.”

  “You’re punch drunk.”

  “I have not drink anything!”

  Wayne didn’t bother explaining. He just held her hand, closed his eyes, and thanked the Lord that Jennie’s head had been on straight—even if his hadn’t. He’d almost forgotten, but the small Christmas tree atop an end table reminded him. “Mom says she sent your ring to you.”

  And thank you, Lord, that I can say that honestly. It was her ring. It always was. I was an idiot to think I could stand to see it on anyone else.

  Before he could stop her, Lena hopped up and disappeared down the hall again. She returned with a little flat box. “I’m sorry, Wayne. Is broken.” As he opened the lid she asked, “Can we fix it, do you think?”

  Wayne stared at the two birds, the ring that seemed to separate them, and the year beneath “Our First Christmas,” and shook his head. “No.”

  That coy tone that once had sent his pulse racing now pumped a slow, slow, quick, quick, slow beat to his heart. “Will you get me a new one just like it? For Christmas?” She dropped her head to his shoulder. “I don’t care if it is late.”

  “Not just like it, Lena.”

  Lena jerked upright again. “What? Why? Is beautiful.” She fingered the birds. “Maybe some metal glue… just right there…”

  “I don’t want that year.”

  “We can wait…”

  Wayne shook his head. “But that’s the problem. I don’t want to wait.” No, it wasn’t grand or romantic, he supposed, but something in her eyes hinted that she really wouldn’t care.

  His fingers fumbled as he tried to free the ring from the ribbon. Lena took over and had it off in seconds. Wayne slipped it onto her finger. “Marry me before New Year’s?”

  “Sí.”

  Wayne burst through the back door with a bucket in each hand. As to be expected, Lena flung open the curtain and stood there, hand on hip. “Where have you been? I have the orders, and they—” The computer blipped, and the printer chugged. “See! There is another one! Twenty-three already. It is only nine-fifteen!”

  Despite the flashing eyes, the scolding tones, and her imposing posture, Wayne’s heart stumbled at the sight of her. “Morning, love.”

  It all melted. “I was worried.”

  “Left my charger at home. Bad crash on The Loop. Stuck there for hours.”

  She repeated the words. “I was worried.”

  Wayne dropped the buckets and moved to her side. Pulling her close he murmured, “I’m all right. You’re all right, and we’re finally all right.”

  Overhead, “Jealousy” began playing. Footfalls tapped out the tango as Ramon practiced alone in his apartment. Lena gave him that slow, daring smile as Wayne took her hand, moved his other to her back, and began the slow, slow, quick, quick, slow movements around the workroom.

  “Christmas Eve?”

  She shrugged. “Today if you want. Tomorrow. Christmas Eve. New Year’s Eve. As long as you marry me, I don’t care for the date.”

  Don’t care about the date, but why be picky? He hadn’t planned to do it, but Wayne found himself admitting his proposal plan. “I wanted it there at the ornament party. But last night, I couldn’t wait.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t. Besides, it was so romantic, just you and me…”

  Now you’re mocking me. And I don’t even care.

  “You could ask Pastor Allen if we could after the Christmas Eve service,” she suggested. “Maybe the people who came would like to stay and celebrate with us? I make polvorones and buy wine—”

  Wayne shook his head. “Sparkling cider. No wine in the building. Pastor Allen would lose his job for that if a few families had their way.”

  “Why is this? I don’t understand the American attitude about wine. Jesus made wine! Would He do this if it is
wrong?”

  Someday, he’d explain the different opinions on alcoholic consumption—on the theories about the alcohol content of the wine at Cana. Someday. Today wasn’t the day for it. Instead, he reasserted his concern for Pastor Allen. “Right or wrong, it would cause problems for Pastor Allen. We can’t do that to him—not his last Christmas with Lily.”

  They stopped dancing at those words. Lena brushed away a tear just as Wayne saw it form. She nodded. “We’ll have cider. And I will find a pretty dress for you.” She giggled. Had she ever giggled before? “Well, to wear for you. Gold, maybe. Or silver. Like tinsel.” She frowned. “Can we dance? At the church?”

  Wayne shook his head. “Better not ask. Besides, we’ll dance enough preparing for that contest.” He pulled her close again, this time, just swaying to the music above. “Why did you want me for this contest, Lena?”

  “I didn’t want the contest at all. It was Ramon—” She jerked back, eyes wide. It took half a second before they both yelled, “Ramon!”

  A door banged open. Feet clattered down the stairs, and the workroom door flew open as well. “What? What is wrong?”

  Hands on hips, Lena whirled to face him. “You tricked us into this contest to interfere. Admit this!”

  Ramon’s grin was all the confession she needed. Wayne lurched forward to stop her, certain she planned to slap him, but Lena just marched to the younger man’s side, wrapped her arms around him, kissed each cheek, and said, “Gracias, mi amor.”

  “I thought that was ‘my love,’” Wayne blurted out. “I’ve been drowning in jealousy every time you say that!”

  Back at his side, she kissed Wayne’s cheek as well. “It does, but it is also what a mother would say to a son or a big sister to her little brother. You say love for God and football. What is the difference?”

  This, he couldn’t argue with, but before he could respond, another thought occurred to him. “Wait. So does this mean I don’t have to humiliate myself in a tango contest?”

  Lena shrugged. “I don’t care.” She tossed Ramon a questioning look and asked, “Have we paid the entry fee?”

  Ramon took a step back. Two. “Aah… about the contest.” A third step. “There…” He winced. “There is no contest.” A fourth.

  It occurred to Wayne that the first two steps had been slow. The next two quick. Will he take one more slow step before running away like a little girl?

  Unfortunately, Wayne would never know. Lena burst out laughing. Ramon chuckled. Wayne just shook his head. The longer she laughed, the harder she laughed—and snorted. A hand clapped over her mouth even as the light in her eyes danced. Then Wayne laughed.

  Ramon’s eyes widened, and he pointed. “Is that ring…?”

  “Congratulate me, man. She said yes.”

  Lena might have accepted a kiss right there, but the blip of the computer, the whirring of the printer, and the jingle of the doorbell snapped her into manager mode. She jabbed a finger into Wayne’s chest. “Now! Go get the rest of those flowers. We have orders—lots of orders!” Before he could turn to get to work, she grabbed him and kissed him until his heart tangoed around the room and back again. “I love you, Wayne Farrell.”

  Merry Christmas!

  1. Sometimes, our past hurts blind us to the truth of the present. Lena had been terrorized by her husband until he’d nearly killed her. His secretive nature prompted an over-sensitivity to anything that could put her in a similar position again. She made a promise to herself that she’d never forget her pain as a result. I Corinthians says that love “does not take into account a wrong suffered.” How should Christians live out this verse while still being discerning as Jesus told us to in Matthew 10:16?

  2. Barbara Farrell used her son’s interference in another person’s life (as seen in CrossRoads Collection I in Premeditated Serendipity) as justification for interfering in Wayne’s love life. The things she says and does indicate that she knows what she’s done is wrong, and she even admits she’ll have to repent. Why do we do this? Why do we justify our actions as if the end justifies the means? What does the Bible have to say about violating one’s own conscience? (See James 4:17)

  3. Wayne’s “rebound” relationship with Jennie was doomed from the start. Several different times she tried to show him that they weren’t meant for each other, but his determination to have a relationship with her blinded him to her hints. Had Jennie been forthright from the moment she realized her lack of romantic interest, it would have been kinder to both of them. Had Wayne taken his hurt and questions to the Lord instead of focusing on “moving on,” things might have taken a very different turn. James 1:5 says that if we lack wisdom, we can ask the Lord for it, and He will give it to us. How can relying on our own wants and feelings blind us to the wisdom the Lord has to offer?

  4. Many people showed dismay at Wayne’s “new relationship,” but instead of taking it to heart and examining it before the Lord, he became frustrated and angry that they didn’t support him. What does the Bible say about listening to the counsel of many? (See Proverbs 15:22)

  5. Richard Stevens (whose story is told in The Matchmakers of Holly Circle) told Lena, “For Christians, it all comes down to love—loving the Lord with all our hearts and loving our neighbor. So when things go wrong, sometimes all we need is to see where we’ve failed to love.” He then brought her a Bible and used Scripture to encourage her in the Lord. How can we ensure that our admonishments and encouragements are Biblically sound?

  www.chautona.com

  Chautona Havig lives and writes in an oxymoron. This book, like most of hers, fits into the Rockland Chronicles, a fictional metropolis surrounded by towns and stories of the people who live there. In each book, you’ll find connections to others in the way of settings and characters. In all her work, Chautona strives to use story to nudge people to the feet of the Master Storyteller.

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  by Chautona Havig

  Find the latest information and connect with Chautona at her website: www.chautona.com

  The Rockland Chronicles

  Aggie’s Inheritance Series

  Ready or Not

  For Keeps

  Here We Come

  Ante Up!

  Fast Forward: A Serial Novel (Six Volumes)

  Volumes One through Six

  HearthLand Series: A Serial Novel (Six Volumes)

  Volumes One through Six

  The Agency Files

  Justified Means

  Mismatched

  Effective Immediately

  A Forgotten Truth

  The Vintage Wren (A serial novel)

  January (Vol 1.)

  February (Vol 2.)

  Sight Unseen Series

  None So Blind

  Will Not See

  Ties that Blind (Summer 2018)

  Ballads from the Hearth

  Jack

  The Hartfield Mysteries

  Manuscript for Murder

  Crime of Fashion

  Two o’Clock Slump

  Front Window

  Silenced Knight (A Christmas Mystery “Noella”)

  Noble Pursuits

  Argosy Junction

  Discovering Hope

  Not a Word

  Speak Now

  A Bird Died

  Thirty Days Hath…

  Confessions of a De-cluttering Junkie

  Corner B
ooth

  New Year’s Revolutions

  Premeditated Serendipity

  Meddlin’ Madeline Mysteries

  Sweet on You (Book1)

  Such a Tease (Book 2)

  Fine Print (Book 3)

  Journey of Dreams Series

  Prairie

  Highlands

  Legacy of the Vines

  Deepest Roots of the Heart

  Heart of Warwickshire Series

  Allerednic

  Christmas Fiction

  Advent

  31 Kisses

  Tarnished Silver

  The Matchmakers of Holly Circle

  Carol and the Belles

  Christmas Stalkings

  Christmas Embers

  The Second Noel

  Silenced Knight

  Merri’s Christmas Mission

  The Annals of Wynnewood

  Shadows & Secrets

  Cloaked in Secrets

  Beneath the Cloak

  Not-So-Fairy Tales

  Princess Paisley

  Everard

  Legends of the Vengeance

  The First Adventure

  Chautona Havig Introduces Alana Terry

  The writing world is full of interesting people from unique and varied walks of life. Christian authors have one beautiful, instant connection. Jesus. When we get to know each other, there’s already common ground outside our love of words. So, in a sense, we’re never truly strangers. We’re family who just haven’t met yet.

  That’s how I felt about Alana Terry almost from the first moment I “met” her in one of these collections. I first fell in love with her passion for Christians and prayer and after that, her writing. Alana creates beautiful stories that tackle difficult issues with grace. She expands our literary experience outside of the borders of our own countries and guides us to embracing all of the world the Lord created.