by Amanda Tru
Strangely, Emma felt the sting of tears, but she didn’t know if it was because of her mother’s words or the realization that she was destined to be a disappointment to her.
Emma put the ornament she was working on down and picked up another to glue. “If that’s the way you feel, then you can definitely mark Leo Jacobs off your list. He isn’t a Christian.”
“Do you know that, or are you just assuming since we’ve never seen him at church?” Cindy asked, reaching over to take the finished ornament and place it carefully in a box.
“I mentioned my faith today when I spoke with him at the station.” Emma thought hard, trying to find the right words to summarize Leo’s attitude. At a loss, she finally just shrugged. “He’s not a Christian, Mom, and he doesn’t have a desire to become one either.”
Cindy sniffed. “Well, that doesn’t change things in the least. God is pretty big. If Leo is the one God plans for you, then He’ll just save him beforehand.”
Emma laughed outright, though her laugh didn’t hold much humor. “Autism and salvation. Those aren’t big challenges at all!”
“Not to God!” Cindy insisted. “Those are small potatoes in comparison to days 1 through 6!
Emma shook her head and unplugged her glue gun. She was done for the day, in every sense. Her head hurt too bad to make one more ornament, and she realized it was pointless to continue conversing with her mom. Cindy wouldn’t listen to reason, and there was nothing Emma could say to make that happen.
Emma knew God was big. She knew God did miracles. But a runt usually stayed a runt. Grandma’s cat never was a typical cat, and Emma didn’t expect to someday wake up normal. She’d learned to believe that God had made her this way for a reason, and if that meant that she was disqualified from some things, like marriage, then Emma was okay with that. She trusted He had a purpose for making her special, though she acknowledged it likely wasn’t as big of a purpose as she often longed for. She tried to console herself that small purposes were fine, too.
However, in spite of herself, she still longed for her ornaments to have purpose with a capital P instead of the lower case one. Sometimes, when she wasn’t careful about her thoughts, she’d find herself longing for other things, too. What would it be like to be loved by a man? What would it feel like to know someone cared about her romantically and not just out of pity?
Strangely, she’d had quite a few of those wayward thoughts over the past twenty-four hours. Mostly when thinking of a certain handsome police chief.
Emma stared at the blank email screen. She had no idea what to write.
She tried to never take orders by phone because, inevitably, she’d not know what to say. She wouldn’t ask the right questions and ended up with a difficult mess to sort through. Email orders were usually much better. She had time to think about her response, and she could use the delete button frequently if she said the wrong thing.
This time was different. How should she respond to a friendly, 11-year-old boy who wanted her to make an ornament for his mom but had no idea what that ornament should be? She didn’t know his parents and didn’t know how to advise him.
Emma reread the email for about the twentieth time and with determination, began by answering the questions he had asked.
Yes, she’d make the ornament.
After thinking about it, she knew that even though she didn’t have time, she couldn’t say no to the boy. Besides, she didn’t want to. She wanted to make the ornament, no matter what it was.
A description. He wanted to know what she looked like.
Emma stood up and walked over to the mirror hung on the wall. While she didn’t particularly enjoy looking at herself in the mirror, sometimes she liked to hold up her ornaments to it, liking how it gave her a different perspective. Now she stood close and studied her reflection. Her hair was brownish-red. Was it more brown or red? She didn’t know. Maybe “chestnut” was the word for it, but chestnut wasn’t an option when she got her driver’s license. They put “brown,” and they hadn’t even asked.
Maybe she should just say brown hair. And curly. Her hair was curly and long.
Her mom said it was beautiful, princess’ hair, but she wouldn’t put that. Just brown, curly, and long.
She was white. Maybe she should say “Caucasian.” Woong was from Korea, and she kind of wished he’d included a picture of himself. Emma guessed he had a cute grin to match his personality. Emma was quite pale, which she imagined probably matched her personality, too. This time of year, her summer freckles weren’t visible, leaving her complexion creamy and ghost-like.
Blue eyes. She had blue eyes.
That should be enough, right?
Woong also wanted ideas for what ornament might work for his mom. Emma sighed and walked over to her table where she’d consolidated all the pictures she was gathering to show Leo. None of them leaped out to her volunteering to be the perfect one for Woong’s mom, and Emma knew this needed to be a custom ornament, truly one-of-a-kind.
She sat back down, wrote her description and sat there, desperately trying to think of a suggestion. She heard her parents’ voices from downstairs and wished she had shut her door all the way. The noise was distracting, especially since they were both singing Christmas carols and neither one of them could claim to be an especially good singer. The fact that they sang more notes off key than in tune might actually qualify them as being quite awful singers.
Emma should have sent them to church without her this morning. Both of them had insisted Emma stay home and rest since she had refused to yesterday. Then they had also insisted on staying home with her to “take care of her.”
Now they sang while making lunch, and Emma felt the singing had completely the opposite effect of taking care of her.
Christmas carols. That was it. Quickly she typed a few lines asking what Woong’s mom’s favorite Christmas carols were and if that might work as inspiration for an ornament.
She pressed send. She hadn’t wanted to, her first inclination being to read and reread what she’d written. She didn’t have time to overanalyze and rewrite. However, as soon as she hit the button, she longed to snatch the email back and review it ad nauseam anyway.
Sighing, she stood and went back to work on her ornaments. When she came to another stopping place, she needed to finish gathering the pictures of the stolen ornaments so she could take them into the station for Leo to see tomorrow. Hopefully, she could stop after mailing a box of ornaments at the post office. That is, if she managed to get them done and ready to send.
Emma dutifully got to work with her paints, trying to create intricate detail with a hand that wouldn’t quite hold steady. She both anticipated and dreaded tomorrow, and that combination created more stress than her normally steady hand could take. She dreaded Monday morning because, even if she managed to make enough orders and ship them out, she would be left with the nagging worry that they would be seen as inferior in quality.
On the other hand, worry couldn’t entirely account for the unsteady rhythm of her heart when thinking about her after-post-office plans. The truth was, the thought of stopping at the police station to deliver her ornament pictures didn’t fill her with anticipation as much as the thought of seeing the man who she would hand the pictures to.
“What is this?” Leo said, quickly thumbing through Emma’s pictures before tossing them to his desk.
The look on his face made Emma cringe and wish she’d never come to his office to deliver the pictures. She must be bothering him.
Emma reached out and gathered the pictures back up neatly. What he tossed aside as if bits of bothersome trash, she carefully rescued as treasures.
“These are pictures of the ornaments that were stolen,” she explained, trying not to feel hurt at the way he had treated something important to her. “They are very unique, and I signed every one of them. If you spread the word about them, maybe someone will recognize and spot one of them in a resale shop.”
Leo scowled. “Emm
a, no one will take time to read the descriptions of each ornament or study all of those pictures. Nor should they. Cars are much more valuable and easier to locate.”
Emma wished she’d brought Orion. She had intended for this to be a very quick trip, and since her mom was playing chauffeur, she’d decided to leave him home. Now, with this meeting not going as she’d anticipated, Emma longed for her friend’s presence.
“But these are valuable,” Emma insisted. Searching through the stack, she pulled out a picture of a beautiful blown glass ornament with purple glass flowers inside and slid it over to him. “See this one? This is one of my most intricate glass blown ornaments. It was really difficult to get the flowers to ‘bloom’ just right within the glass ball. I prayed that it would go to someone who would need to ‘bloom’ through difficult circumstances. I know that the ornament itself has no special magic, but I would like God to help give this person strength to be strong and the faith that He is making something beautiful out of whatever circumstances he or she is going through. And that in the end, he or she will see the beautiful ornament made through adversity.”
“Emma—”
“And see this one?” Emma slid across a picture of her “starry night” ornament. “It has some irregularities since it was one of my first types of glass blown ornaments I made. I prayed that this ornament would go to someone who wasn’t a Christian and that somehow it would make them think about Christmas in a new way. I know it’s silly. There’s nothing overtly Christian or Christmasy about it, but do you see how the light shines through the imperfections? It reminds me of what the sky must have looked like that first Christmas, and maybe the person the ornament is supposed to go to will come to know God and let His forgiveness shine through to make Christmas beautiful from a new perspective.”
Leo concentrated on the photo as if it was one of those Magic Eye pictures that you must look at just right to see the hidden image.
Encouraged that he was actually looking at it and not just tossing it back to her in dismissal, Emma continued. “I prayed for each of these ornaments. I prayed they would go to the right person and be a blessing, but I also prayed for more specific things. It probably sounds ridiculous to you, and maybe it is. But sometimes I think we sell God short. Can’t the God who created the universe answer more specific prayers? I often ask God to show me how to pray for my ornaments, and I also like to look at the characteristics of an ornament and think about the person I would like it to bless. It’s my way of connecting to both God and other people. Even though I never actually know that my prayers are answered, I release them into His care when I ship them off, and I believe He uses them. Sometimes I even imagine how my prayers are answered in the lives of others.”
Leo tossed the photo back.
Seeing his expression now, Emma feared she’d read him wrong before. He didn’t look open or interested at all. Instead, his sharp movements spoke of impatience and the curl of his lips… was that disdain?
Emma pressed forward with determination, yet her voice became thready and shook. “So you see, these ornaments are more valuable than a dollar figure. Even though much of their worth can’t be assessed, it is far greater than that of my car. If you are able to recover even a few of the ornaments, then at least I can make sure they are sent correctly.”
“Emma, I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood what my job is,” Leo said, standing up from his desk.
The door to his office clicked open a half-second before a woman’s voice announced. “Leo, I need to know right now who your date is for the Christmas party on Friday night.”
“Kate, why are you interrupting me for that?” Leo growled.
“I didn’t think Emma would care.” Turning to Emma, she beamed and waved, “Hi Emma!” Then, turning her attention back to Leo, Kate continued, “Besides this will take two seconds. Just give me a name.” Kate held a small tablet of paper in her hand and poised her pen at the ready.
“You figure since you no longer work for me that you can just barge in here whenever you want?”
Leo’s scowling expression seemed enough to send people running for cover, but Kate kept her post, smiling brightly.
“Pretty much,” she said agreeably. “Now, who is she?”
“I won’t be bringing a date. It’ll just be me.”
Kate sighed dramatically. “It can’t be just you, Leo. You wanted me to set up this party, so you have to follow my rules.”
“I’ve learned my lesson now, thank you very much! I asked you to organize it because you know the department but aren’t officially employed here and a victim of one of our scheduled shifts. Since you do consultant work for us, you’d be invited to the party anyway. Plus, you’re friends with Brooke Hutchins, whose boyfriend owns the community center.”
Kate sighed dramatically. “You’re just using me.”
“Pretty much.”
Kate shrugged. “I figured. But you still have to deal with the consequences of me being in charge. So, who is your date?”
“I. Don’t. Have. One.” Leo punctuated each word with a carefully enunciated growl.
“You need to have one,” Kate insisted. “Everyone else is bringing a plus one, so if you don’t, that throws the seating chart, dancing, and everything else off. Let’s see, where can we find you a date?”
The pause didn’t last a full second before Kate squealed. “Emma! Why don’t you take Emma?”
Leo started, “I don’t think that—”
“Emma, we’re having a Crossroads Police Department Christmas party this next Friday,” Kate quickly explained. “It’s a pretty big deal because it doesn’t happen very often. Someone always needs to be on shift, so parties are pointless if the employees can’t make it. This year, however, Leo put me in charge, and I figured out that we could plan things on a rotating schedule. We’ll have the bare minimum required to hold down the fort here at the station. If calls come in and require backup, we can be reached at the community center. Next year, we’ll rotate, so the same people aren’t always on duty for the Christmas party. I have confirmation for everyone and their guests, except Leo. So, what do you think, Emma? Will you come?”
A party. Emma didn’t think she’d ever been to a real Christmas party before. She’d been to a few church ones, but that wasn’t really the same thing. The thought excited her. She really wanted to go. It felt like something a normal person would do, and she really wanted to be the kind of person who got invited to a Christmas party and went. However, she only wanted to go if Leo wanted her to. She didn’t want to be a hindrance or a charity case for him, but if he genuinely wanted her to go, that would be different.
She turned to Leo, trying to read his thoughts. He didn’t look angry or upset by the idea. His right eyebrow raised as if curious as to her response.
Emma answered hesitantly. “I could go. That is, if Leo wants me to.”
“Yay! Of course, he does!” Kate gushed. “I’ll put you down right now. What a relief! Now, I need to give Brooke a call and talk to the caterers to confirm the numbers for the buffet.”
Kate breezed out of the office before Emma realized that it was all a done deal. Leo walked over to the door and stood there, waiting for Emma to follow.
Was he upset that she had been assigned as his date without his input?
“Emma, if you don’t have any new information, I need to get back to work.” Leo indicated the door with a gesture that even Emma understood to mean she should leave.
“I’ll leave the pictures with you,” Emma said, extending the stack in his direction. “I thought they should qualify as new information since they provided a new angle you could use in your search.”
Leo held up his hands and shook his head, not willing to touch the photos. “Keep them. They are useless to me, and I won’t pretend otherwise. I can’t go on a wild goose chase for a bunch of ornaments that aren’t important to anyone but you.”
A kindergartener could have made a more artistic and appealing ornament.
>
The phrase from the horrible review replayed through Emma’s mind before the echo of Leo’s words faded. The effect paralyzed her for the space of several seconds, and she simply stared at Leo, helpless as hurt ripped through her. At least the review was written by someone who didn’t know Emma and hadn’t heard from her own lips the reasons the ornaments were special. Leo knew her and listened while she’d shared her heart, and then he’d dismissed all she’d cared about by casually saying none of it was important. The trauma from Leo’s betrayal was so much worse and only confirmed the written words from earlier.
Lips trembling, Emma stepped through the door, but turned back, speaking the only question she could think of. “Leo Jacobs, why are you so mean?”
Though not spoken loudly, those words spoken in the doorway of Leo’s office carried through the open area of cubicles, halting all other sound and movement as everything breathlessly awaited the police chief’s response.
For once, Emma didn’t falter in her gaze locked with his. She saw him startle and watched the lights and colors shift and change in his brown eyes, but she didn’t know what any of it meant.
Emma didn’t know how long they would have stood there locked in a stare, but the buzzing of her phone in her purse broke the spell. Emma’s mother had insisted they stop and get Emma a new phone even before they mailed her packages this morning. She said she didn’t want another repeat of Saturday when she couldn’t find Emma and had no way to reach her. Figuring it would be faster to comply than to attempt to get her mom to change her mind, Emma agreed, purchased a new phone, and had her data transferred in record time.
Emma stepped away from the door, tugged her new phone out, and looked at the screen.
MIRIAM YANCY: emma, the decorating committee is wondering when we can expect the ornaments you promised to deliver. our schedules are thrown off since you didn’t bring them friday.