Destination. Was this where her journey ended after a year filled with pain and abuse? Did hope and encouragement wait for her in this little town?
A new life. With perseverance, she could start fresh.
“Thanks.” She climbed from the taxi, paid the driver and grabbed her suitcase.
Daylight faded as dusk crept in, and she tipped her head to take in Evergreen Street. Family-owned businesses had switched on their storefront lights, transforming the town into a fairy-tale sparkle of miniature white lights. The tantalizing scent of honey roasted almonds wafted through the air. Boughs of fragrant holly tied with red velvet bows hung cheerily from tall solitary lampposts. Bright-faced children skipped by, lifting their faces skyward to catch a sprinkling of snow. Their conscientious parents followed close behind.
“Emmanuelle! You arrived right on time!” Dorothy flung open the door of the music store and pressed a welcoming kiss to Emmanuelle’s cheek. Dorothy’s brown hair was swept up in a French braid, her creamy complexion glowing with an enthusiasm Emmanuelle didn’t recall from their days working as struggling musicians in New York.
Dorothy had lived there before moving back to Cherish, her hometown, and marrying her high school crush, Ryan Edwards. He had been an opera star in the making and had given up his touring career to settle in Cherish. They were newlyweds. They were in love.
Love. The beginning was always so alluring. It was the end Emmanuelle feared.
Dorothy regarded the departing taxi. “Apparently Nicholas didn’t pick you up?”
“I didn’t see him so I took a cab.”
Emmanuelle turned from Dorothy and admired Musically Yours’ frosty window display, bedecked in an infinite array of treble clef signs. A pine wreath, embellished in antique ornaments—tiny pianos, violins, and harps—adorned the front door.
“It’s wonderful,” she said. “You’ve worked so hard to set this up.”
“Thanks. Ryan and I are still learning the business, and we’re inspired by anything musical.”
Emmanuelle smiled, but then shivered. “It’s colder here than I expected. At least the blizzard that threatened to shut down New York never came.”
“The storm hit after you left,” Dorothy replied. “You escaped the worst of it.”
Did she? She couldn’t answer at first, finally whispering, “Hopefully.”
Dorothy raised a delicate eyebrow, but Emmanuelle didn’t elaborate. Sure, she’d escaped the snowstorm. An escape from George, her ex, was yet to be determined.
Please God, be with me now in my dark season, when I’m so out of place. The world around me is glowing with the promise of Christmas and I feel dark and empty inside.
She leaned forward to admire two animated polar bears sitting amidst the treble clef signs in the shop’s window. Beneath a starry sky, the bears tapped drums to the tune of “Jingle Bells.”
“Very clever.” She couldn’t help a grin. “Thanks for the invite to Cherish.”
“We’re thrilled you agreed to join us for Christmas.” Dorothy grabbed her hands for a reassuring squeeze. She was so pleasant and gracious, Emmanuelle thought. So jovial.
On the other hand, Emmanuelle felt the opposite. All she had become in twenty-five years—a dependable, straightforward woman as well as an esteemed harpist—she’d lost in six months to George.
She’d once been like Dorothy, resilient, independent and a woman of God.
Her ex had taken it all away.
Deep in her coat pocket, her fingers worried an angel ornament she’d purchased at the New York airport. For her, the ornament symbolized the sacred Christmas season, its optimism, dreams, and promise.
She hadn’t taken it out of her pocket yet.
“You’ve been difficult to reach these past few months.” Dorothy studiously appraised Emmanuelle. “You hardly ever answered your phone.”
“I’ve been busy with concert engagements.” Emmanuelle forced her features to remain blank. “You know, musician stuff.” It was a lie, and with the lie came heaviness, a wide band of disapproval. Where had her sense of decency gone?
She tightened her paisley scarf around her neck. Although the violent purple and yellow bruises had faded, she still felt self-conscious.
Dorothy guided her into the music store. “My brother will blame his forgetfulness on his new job, or that gigantic puppy he bought at the animal shelter. You’d think he’d know better at thirty years old.”
“He’s a good guy,” Emmanuelle said. “Nicholas and I Skyped every night for months when you were in rehab.”
“Thanks to you both, I’m better.” Dorothy smiled. “And most important, thanks to God.”
Once, Emmanuelle would have readily agreed. God was her salvation, her refuge. Now she didn’t know how to answer because her faith had wavered.
Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, “Move from here to there,” and it will move. The verse from Matthew 17-20 came to her mind, a reminder of her strength. All she had to do was reach for it, if she was brave enough.
Inside the store, Dorothy ran a finger along one of the shelves, grinning when she was assured it was dust free. “Ryan and I purchased a cottage-style bungalow four blocks from here and there’s an extra bedroom.”
“This is your first Christmas as a married couple.” Emmanuelle set her suitcase out of the way of a passing customer. “Please celebrate the holiday without me in the middle.”
“I insist you stay with us.”
“For an entire month?” Emmanuelle shook her head. “Insist all you want. I booked a room at the Cherish Hills Inn. You raved about the inn’s accommodations being top-quality when you returned to Cherish for your brother’s wedding last year.”
“The wedding that didn’t happen.” Ruefully, Dorothy sighed. “Nicholas is still healing from the embarrassment and heartbreak.”
The ending stages of love. Dreams shattered.
Without warning, the front door burst open. Instinctively, Emmanuelle held up a hand, shielding herself from view.
A heavy-set woman, her hair helmeted in a tight gray bun, ambled inside. She called out a jovial hello to Dorothy.
“Be with you in a minute, Mrs. McManus.” Dorothy gave a flap of her hands, and then turned back to Emmanuelle. “Sorry. What were we discussing?”
Emmanuelle blew out a breath. This uneasiness, this fear of being followed, had to stop.
Still shaken, she kept her focus on a Mozart statue topped with a red plush Santa hat sitting on the counter.
“We were discussing the wedding that didn’t happen,” she replied. “Whenever Nicholas and I talked when you were in rehab, he always reminded me we should place our trust in God.”
“Sadly, people change, beliefs change.” Worry replaced Dorothy’s earlier smile. “Hard knocks can shake the faith of the most devout. I pray he’ll go to church again because he’s faltered since the breakup.”
Suggesting Emmanuelle put her suitcase behind the front counter, Dorothy led her past a display table. As Dorothy paused to rearrange two pairs of oboe earrings so they lined up side by side, she said, “God had other plans for him and for me. I believe things work out for the best.”
Emmanuelle frowned and nodded, aborting both actions.
For Dorothy, perhaps. For Ryan. For anyone in this idyllic snow globe town. But not for me. And apparently not for Nicholas.
Her cell phone buzzed. She retrieved it from her tote bag and scanned the screen. Unknown caller. Her heart stopped. A telemarketer? A wrong number?
“Who is it?”
Looking up, she saw Dorothy was studying her with keen interest.
“No one.” Fumbling, Emmanuelle tucked the phone back into her faux leather tote. “You’re right. People change for many reasons.” And she’d changed most of all. She’d been a competent, successful woman. Now a chill crept up her spine when a door opened into a harmless music store.
“Are you okay?” Dorothy asked.
“I’m fine, just tired from traveling.” Emmanuelle’s eyes welled with tears, and she averted her gaze. She’d applied makeup, the first time in months, attempting to conceal her sleep deprivation. The endless worrying and crying had taken a toll.
“We’re organizing a concert in the town square the weekend before Christmas,” Dorothy was saying. “I meant to ask you to bring your harp—”
“My harp weighs nearly eighty pounds.” She picked up a pair of piano earrings and fingered the tiny keyboard. “It’s in New York.”
Broken. She wouldn’t reveal how George had destroyed her harp in one of his lightning-fast rages. The memory caused a block of ice to form in her stomach, a block that she knew would be slow to thaw. She hated the thought of her beloved instrument, splintered into pieces, lying on a New York curb under a pile of snow.
Better the harp than you splintered into pieces.
But his shouted insults and rough slaps had been her fault. She’d provoked him.
No, no, no. Her inner voice took on a sharp edge. That was the old Emmanuelle talking. The new Emmanuelle knew she wasn’t a dishtowel to be thrown around on a whim. In hindsight, she should have known George was abusive. The warning signs were there.
She blew out a breath. She’d resolved to find peace and comfort in this holiday … in this town … somewhere … and find her footing again.
“Enough about me.” She set down the earrings and dismissed herself with a flutter of her fingers. “Where’s Ryan?”
“He’s rehearsing in nearby Stanley Valley today and will arrive this evening. He’ll be singing ‘O Holy Night’ for a Christmas Cantata service. He gives so freely of his talent.” Dorothy’s smile was as radiant as a Merry Christmas bouquet. “He’s featured throughout the Carolinas in many guest appearances. Plus, the Atlanta opera house asked him to perform the role of Zoroastro in Handel’s opera, Orlando. I’m incredibly proud of him.”
“You should be.” Dorothy’s smile was contagious, and Emmanuelle managed a warm grin. “He’s famous and extremely talented.”
“And you? Any upcoming concerts?”
“None.” She answered in a firm tone that she expected would discourage her friend from probing. Judging by the way Dorothy’s eyebrows drew together, she’d succeeded.
Fortunately, an acoustic guitar arrangement of “Lo, How a Rose Is Blooming” piped in the background, the ideal holiday music to smooth a lull in the conversation.
“I’m sure you’re keen to check in.” Dorothy broke the silence. “I’ll deal with these last few customers, close the store, and give you a lift. Unless you’d rather walk the three blocks to the inn?”
“No, no. I’ll wait for you.”
She’d never walk alone again. Not in New York, not in Cherish. Not anywhere, because she’d never feel safe again.
Dorothy gestured toward the front of the store. “If you care to browse, the Christmas music section is on your left. There’s a lovely harp arrangement of The Nutcracker.”
“Thanks. Your store is a music-lover’s dream.”
Intrigued, Emmanuelle stepped past a buyer laden with music bookmarks and made her way to the sheet music. She thumbed through endless arrangements of Christmas solos, wondering what madness had brought her to this town. She didn’t belong here among all this gaiety. Her sadness was a burden refusing to go away.
Disheartened, she stared, trancelike, at the display window. A whimsical model train circled the polar bears, and the sight was enchanting.
Beyond, past the cheery town, past the exuberant children and the enormous Christmas tree illuminating the town square, a darkened sky had followed dusk.
*** End of Excerpt A Christmas To Cherish by Josie Riviera ***
Continue reading: A Christmas To Cherish
A Love Song To Cherish: A Sweet and Wholesome Christian Novella (Cherish Series Book 1) Page 7