Under the Christmas Star (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

  Emma nodded. “That’s a good idea.” With feeling so frantic, all she could think about was making replacements for the orders that should have been mailed yesterday. She should have some inventory already. Maybe she could also take a few from her inventory at Brooke’s store and replace them. Some of the orders simply requested a variety, not specific products. The fewer ornaments she had to make, the sooner she’d get the boxes shipped.

  “If you’re not going to lie down, you might as well come and eat your food while it’s hot,” Cindy insisted, beckoning her to the kitchen. “It should be ready soon, and I’ll help you get everything sorted out once you have some food and medicine.”

  Feeling too stressed to argue that she really wasn’t in the mood for bacon, eggs, and pancakes, Emma obediently washed her hands and sat down at the kitchen counter, accepting the plate and fork.

  “Where’s your dad?” Cindy asked. “I’m sure he’s hungry for breakfast, too.”

  Emma shrugged. “I think he’s still outside talking to Chief Jacobs.” She idly wondered what they were talking about. Probably about her. Dad likely filled Leo in on her entire history, as if Leo needed more reason to think her “different.”

  Cindy walked over to the front window and called back. “It looks like the chief is just pulling away. I didn’t realize he was still here. I thought you said goodbye to him ten minutes ago.”

  Emma felt the sudden urge to jump up and run to the window to watch him leave. At her mom’s words, she suddenly realized that she hadn’t actually told Leo goodbye at all. Now he probably thought her horribly rude. Didn’t normal people say goodbye?

  Even though Emma knew Leo only viewed her as a curiosity, she couldn’t help but feel strangely empty. She didn’t know why missing that goodbye mattered, but somehow it did.

  “Oh, Emma, not that one!” Cindy cried in alarm. “You have other ornaments to put into the box. You need to keep Orion.”

  Emma paused at her mom’s words. She looked at the small dog figurine in her hands and bit her lip painfully. It was a tiny, felted replica of a red Rhodesian Ridgeback dog with a brown nose and amber eyes. She didn’t want to part with this ornament. It was the very first one of its kind that she had made, and she’d made it to look like her dog. She’d never intended to sell it, but that is exactly what she felt she must do.

  “I can make more of them,” Emma said, working to keep her tone deceptively casual. She didn’t really want her mom to know how much the ornament meant to her and how difficult it was to part with.

  “But that is the first one you made,” Cindy protested, physically reaching out to take the ornament from Emma, clearly not trusting its safekeeping. “You keep it. I’ll take you to Brighton Falls, and we’ll get more supplies for ornaments to fill the box.”

  Emma shook her head. “This box only needs one more ornament. If I include Orion, then I can ship it out today, and it still has a chance of being close to on time. I don’t have time to get the supplies, make the ornaments, and mail the package before 5:00. Tomorrow is Sunday, so if I don’t get it out today, I won’t get to mail it until Monday.”

  “Surely it can wait until then,” Cindy said firmly as if the conversation was over. Her fingers latched onto the soft animal, forcing Emma to release it.

  Emma shook her head. “These ornaments are going to a shop that stocks my ornaments. She already placed the order late and wanted me to put a rush on it. The shop had wonderful sales last year, and the owner said her customers are already asking for my new stock. She’ll probably want another order next week. If I don’t mail it today, I risk losing one of my best customers.”

  Cindy held the ornament, still refusing to let Emma take it back. “But think about it, Emma. Would anyone even want a dog ornament? Shouldn’t you include something more generic anyway?”

  Emma shook her head and simply held her hand out for her mom to return the felted creature into her palm. “Funny thing is, some of the more eclectic ornaments sell the best. Besides, at this point, the ornament is just a number. And all I need is one more.”

  With a wince, Cindy carefully placed the miniature Orion in Emma’s palm.

  “Don’t worry, Mom,” Emma assured. “I can always make another Orion ornament.” What she didn’t mention was the amount of time and effort it took to felt the tiny animal to be a perfect replica of her dog. Even with hours and hours of work with a needle, Emma had no guarantee that she could replicate her workmanship so well. It was not easy, nor was it a task she could complete anytime soon.

  With fingers that carried a slight tremor, Emma carefully and tenderly wrapped the little dog in tissue paper.

  Dear Lord, I don’t want to send this ornament away, but I have to. Could you please send it to someone who will love and appreciate it as much as I do? I know that’s a lot to ask because there is only one real Orion. But let this ornament bring someone joy. If it isn’t too much to ask, could you also somehow touch this person? Let them feel your love that is even greater than what someone can feel for a dog as special as Orion. Bless the new owner this Christmas, deepen her faith, and let her trust you more and more. Give her wisdom in the choices she makes, letting You guide her footsteps wherever she goes. Finally, remind her of man’s true best friend every Christmas from now on when she hangs my little Orion dog on her tree. Amen.

  “Emma, are you okay?” Her mom asked, putting a hand on her shoulder in concern.

  Emma nodded. “I was just praying. If I need to send my Orion ornament, I want God to make sure it goes to someone special.”

  Cindy didn’t comment, which Emma took to mean she didn’t approve. If she could keep the ornament and still send the package out right away this morning, then she would. However, since that didn’t seem possible, Emma must content herself with sending the ornament off with a prayer to bless someone else.

  Emma resolutely taped up the box and attached her printed mailing labels. “Time to go,” she said, turning to her mom with a forced smile. “I made my list of supplies I need, and we can drop this package off at the post office on the way to Brighton Falls.”

  “Let me grab my shoes,” Cindy said.

  Knowing that “grabbing her shoes” also included fussing with her hair and using the restroom, Emma sat back down to her computer to check the shipping address one more time.

  She pulled up her storefront page and was just about to click into messages when she stopped. A full ten seconds passed before Emma figured out what was wrong. The number of reviews was different. Someone had posted a new review for her store.

  With the feeling of bugs suddenly sent scurrying in her stomach, she clicked on the reviews, the new one immediately popping up at the very top.

  At the sight of a single star, those excited little bugs in her stomach grew about ten times in size and tumbled in quarrels, making her feel quite nauseated.

  “I’m ready!” Cindy announced, poking her head back into the room.

  Emma quickly shut the lid on the laptop and stood to go.

  Cindy let out a quick, startled gasp. “Emma, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Emma replied quickly.

  Cindy openly studied her while Emma tried not to flinch.

  “Emma, when most people are upset, you can tell it on their face. It’s like the emotion is so much that it spills out in the coloring of a face, shiny eyes, or the turn of a mouth. I always know when you are upset because of the lack of emotion. You have the opposite reaction of others. You shut down and go numb. Your eyes dull, and your face pales. When you resemble a robot Emma, I know something is wrong.”

  “That’s not completely true,” Emma argued. “Sometimes I have meltdowns full of big emotions.”

  “That is pretty rare, but a great way of getting me sidetracked,” she said, lifting her eyebrows in expectation. “Why are you upset?”

  “I just checked my website,” Emma answered simply. “I guess it stressed me out a bit.”

  Cindy smiled gently. “I’ll hel
p you, Emma. We’ll be caught up with your orders before you know it. Now let’s run to mail your package and get some supplies.”

  Relieved that her mom didn’t press the issue, Emma followed her out, careful to do exactly as her mom observed by keeping all of the big emotions down inside a nice, thick layer of apathy. It was safer that way. If she pretended she didn’t feel, maybe it would become reality.

  Despite her efforts, she still felt raw as she stood in line at the post office with her box of ornaments cradled in her arms. She desperately wanted to turn around, cut open the box, and dig out that little dog ornament. It was silly, really, but she longed for the small comfort of holding the soft bit of fur in her hand and ached at the thought of parting from it.

  However, as the person in front of her turned and left, Emma stepped up to the counter, exactly as she was supposed to. The postal clerk reached for the box, and Emma placed it into her hands, her fingers letting it go for the last time.

  Lord, please use that ornament in a way that means something. I’m giving it to you. Please make it worth all this.

  With her mask firmly in place, she didn’t allow even a muscle to twitch in response to the storm raging inside. She paid the amount due, thanked the clerk stiffly, and turned to go, leaving no clues for anyone to suspect that mailing that box cost her much more than postage.

  “Mom, you and Dad didn’t need to come home early from visiting Colin. I’m fine. I don’t need to be waited on.”

  Cindy put the sandwich in front of Emma and sat across from her with her own. Then she looked at her daughter and smiled. “Emma, I just played taxi taking you to the post office and the craft store. We’re eating lunch, and later on, I’ll help you make your ornament replacements. Didn’t your dad also say Chief Jacobs wanted us to stop by the station sometime today? All that and you’re still trying to tell me I shouldn’t have come home to help you?”

  Emma shrugged and looked at the passing traffic outside the window of the sandwich shop. Cars locked in gridlock around the heavily trafficked streets of a horribly busy Brighton Falls, and you couldn’t expect different on the Saturday right after Thanksgiving. The sheer number of people put Emma on edge. On the one hand, she was very thankful for her mom. She would have simply gone without eating rather than stood in the long line to get a sandwich.

  Emma picked at her sandwich and took a small bite before responding. “I appreciate all you are doing, Mom, but I feel guilty that you cut your time with Colin’s family short. Plus, you already know that I don’t like being dependent on anyone. If you hadn’t come, I would have found a way to get things done.”

  Cindy reached across the table and squeezed Emma’s hand gently. “Emma, you were attacked. Of course, we came. I want to take care of you, not because you need it but because it might make me feel a little better.”

  Cindy’s words warmed Emma’s heart, and if she had quit there, Emma would have found it a pleasing end to the discussion. Her mom didn’t see her as a burden and truly desired to help because she loved her.

  Unfortunately, Cindy paused only about two seconds before continuing her statement, and her words stole all the comfort the previous words created. “We shouldn’t have left you alone in the first place. You should have come to Colin’s with us.”

  A bite of sandwich stuck in Emma’s throat, forcing her to take a sip of water before responding. “I’m not a child, Mom. You and Dad travel all the time, and that shouldn’t change.”

  “You should have been with us. Family is more important than business anyway.” Cindy’s words were not said harshly. In fact, her tone was quite gentle and pleasant.

  Yet Emma felt the weight of them, and it felt like criticism. She knew her mom didn’t intend to hurt her, but it was just one more drop in a bucket filled to the brim. That one little drop overflowed and convinced everything else to abandon ship, too. The fight drained out of her, leaving her completely empty.

  She put her half-eaten sandwich down, unable to take another bite. Idly, she wondered if she could slip the rest of it to Orion, who sat near her chair on his best service-dog behavior. She knew she wasn’t technically supposed to give him people food, but someone deserved to enjoy the sandwich.

  “Maybe you’re right, Mom,” Emma said quietly, her mouth feeling like sawdust. “I won’t go on every trip with you, but maybe I’ll go with you next year to Colin’s.”

  Cindy looked at her sharply, and her lips tightened. Her tone lost its gentleness and took on the no-nonsense tone of a mother embarking on an interrogation. “Alright, Emma, what’s wrong? You never say I’m right. At least you never admit it. I would be concerned your melancholy was symptomatic of your concussion, but you seemed fine until you checked your computer right before we left. What changed?”

  Emma took another sip of water and managed to nibble a little more on her sandwich, but she knew that no amount of stalling would deter her mom. “Someone left a bad review for my Artsi store,” she finally admitted, biting her lip.

  Cindy sighed. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know that’s hard, but you can’t please everyone. What was the review about?”

  “It was a custom order,” Emma explained. “The customer emailed me what she wanted. Then she emailed me three more times, wanting changes each time. When she finally received the order, it was apparently not what she had in mind. She said I was slow in my order fulfillment and what she received was cheaply made. She said her kindergarten granddaughter could have made a more artistic and appealing ornament.”

  Cindy winced around her last bite of sandwich. “I assume those were her exact words. You already memorized it?”

  Emma shrugged. “I didn’t try to. It just happens that way. I didn’t tell you the whole review. It was actually much longer. You can read it if you want, but it included nothing positive.”

  Cindy gathered all the trash from their table and responded as she stood up to deposit it in the trash. “Just ignore it, Emma. Some people won’t be pleased no matter what you do. Be a duck. Let it wash off you. You have many, many other positive reviews for your shop.”

  Emma and Orion followed her mom out of the restaurant and got back in the car. While Cindy seemed perfectly content to dismiss the subject as easily and decisively as she had tossed the trash, Emma couldn’t manage a similar reaction.

  “It doesn’t matter how many positive reviews I have,” Emma whispered as Cindy backed up and pulled out of the parking lot. “That is the one that echoes through my head. And it’s the most recent review, the one all my potential customers will read.”

  “Can you comment on it?” Cindy asked, proactively. “Maybe you can add a comment about how she changed the order three times. That way, customers will know the truth.”

  Mom’s support never included just sympathy. She was a fixer, and if she couldn’t simply deny that it was a problem, she followed any bad news up by a myriad of potential solutions to fix why someone felt so lousy.

  “Responding will just reflect badly on me,” Emma explained, trying to focus on the festive Christmas decorations lining downtown Brighton Falls. “All of the articles I’ve read say that if you respond, you risk starting a verbal feud.”

  “Well, that isn’t right,” Cindy said flatly. “You are entitled to defend yourself against false accusations.”

  Emma turned from the window to try to make her mom understand what should be obvious. This wasn’t something she could fix, and assuming that it was made the problem seem trite.

  Emma chanced a look into the back seat to get a glance of commiseration from Orion, but his loyalty was a little subdued at the moment since he was spread out across the seat asleep.

  Turning back to her mom, she explained tiredly, “The customer wasn’t satisfied, Mom. I’m sure she felt her opinion on my work and character to be entirely true and well-deserved. I contacted her and apologized that the ornament wasn’t what she anticipated. I offered to refund her money as well. I don’t know if she will respond or not, but I doubt
any response will cause her to edit that review.”

  “Well, maybe you can contact the Artsi website itself and have the review removed. If you explain the situation—”

  “They won’t remove a review unless there is inappropriate language of some kind.” Emma felt her stress level rise to the point that her constant headache increased from an ache to a pounding throb.

  “You won’t know if you don’t try!” Cindy shot back, her tone clearly saying that the fault in all of this truly was Emma’s unwillingness to fix it. “That review was highly inappropriate!”

  Emma sighed, knowing that this conversation had come to a dead end. If it continued further, Mom would become upset that Emma wasn’t taking any of her suggestions, pushing Emma’s mood further into despair because her Mom didn’t understand. She wasn’t looking for a solution. In fact, she wasn’t sure what she was looking for at all!

  Emma turned back to the window. Even though she knew she should simply give up and never again attempt to confide in her mom, she could never seem to stop herself. In many ways, her mom was her closest friend, and though she knew she shouldn’t, her inmost thoughts came spilling out of their own volition, seeking the comfort of another understanding heart.

  Even though she recognized it as a doomed quest, after miles of silence fell behind them, she found herself, once again, quietly confiding anyway. “With everything that has happened, I’m just wondering if maybe God is trying to tell me to go in a different direction. Maybe I’m not supposed to have a business for my ornaments.”

  Cindy paused for a moment, focusing on the road as another car passed them in the other lane. Then she responded, her tone losing the strident tone from earlier and once again becoming gentle. “Emma, you know that I don’t like how obsessive you get about your ornaments, especially this time of year. You know that I’ve talked to you about decreasing your stress level by doing the ornaments simply as a hobby for enjoyment than rather a business. But you’ve always insisted it was important to you. You said it was your ministry.”