Under the Christmas Star (Crossroads Collection)

by Amanda Tru

  “No!” Wayne choked and tried again. “Sorry, not that I object to your family or anything. I just wasn’t angling for an invitation. I just wondered where they live—what Christmas is like in your house.”

  There. That’s not serious, is it?

  A floodgate of stories poured forth as they sat there eating their tacos, rice, and beans. The whole time Jennie talked, Wayne wondered. How had he not known she was an only child in a family of dozens of cousins, aunts, and uncles? How had he not known her grandparents and half of the family lived near the Indiana-Michigan border on the Michigan side?

  How did I not know that half her cousins are Jewish?

  “I shipped all the Hanukkah gifts today. They’ll arrive before it’s over.” She sagged and dropped her taco to the plate. “I am always late, but this year I was determined. I mean, you get eight days to get it right. There’s just no excuse!”

  Wayne didn’t know how to reply to that. I mean, you can’t just say, “Yeah… no excuse” when your girlfriend obviously already felt bad enough. So, instead, he tried for a middle-of-the-road, innocuous comment. “It’s a major holiday, though, right? They understand the mail and—”

  “Christmas is a major holiday, Wayne.” He heard a sharpened edge to the words and winced as she picked up the taco and tore out a bite with more vim than he might have expected. “Hanukkah is relatively minor. But I like it to be fun for the kids.”

  I’ll have to study up on Jewish holidays, I guess. Don’t some church groups still celebrate them? Maybe we can find one.

  That prompted him to ask Jennie about it, but she just shrugged and muttered something about not trying to mix Biblical Christianity, Christian-ized cultural things, and Judaic celebrations. “Maybe I’m over-sensitive,” she added at Wayne’s apology, “but my family gets tired of feeling like their faith is a poor man’s Christianity.”

  Before Wayne could even ask what that meant, she held up her hand. “Don’t—don’t even say it. I’ve heard too many people argue that this is exactly what it is. Well, I’m not going to argue it. And I’m not going to be the thing that drives them further away from Jesus, so just don’t start.”

  There wasn’t anything safe he could say, so Wayne just mumbled a weak, “Okay.”

  A couple of minutes later, Jennie shoved her plate aside and pushed the chair back. She leaped at him, squeezing him for just a moment before plopping down in her seat again. “I’m sorry, Wayne. I’ve been jumped on so often, and I’m crampy and—” She winced. “I cannot believe I just told you that.”

  Ignoring the heat rising up his neck, Wayne tried to remain nonchalant. “It’s just a reality of life, right? So, why don’t I clean up and go on home—let you rest?”

  Jennie propped her head on one hand, her elbow shoving the tablecloth into a puddle at one side of the table. “You wouldn’t mind?”

  “Not at all.” He cleared their places, rinsed dishes and racked them in the dishwasher, squeezed her shoulder, kissed the top of her head, and let himself out with a promise to check in on her the next day.

  Only when he pulled up in front of his own house did Wayne feel like he could take a deep breath and relax.

  That ring and ornament better arrive… and soon!

  Lena’s Lincoln pulled into her usual parking space behind The Pettler and resolved that she’d say something—make an effort. After three days of debate as to whether the ornament broke in shipping or was sent broken to make a statement, Lena decided it was the former. “Definitely. Wayne would not be so cruel.”

  The “Our First Christmas” with the following year’s date hinted that perhaps he meant for them to marry then? “Could I do that?”

  Lost in thoughts, she didn’t notice the music blaring in the workroom until she’d flung open the door. There, wearing dance shoes, no less, Wayne “walked” the tango. Or, rather, he stopped mid push, stumbled, and nearly took both himself and Ramon to the floor.

  She couldn’t help herself. “Not so tightly, Wayne. If you fall, you should not be holding your partner so tightly that she—or he, I suppose—falls with you.”

  All the wrong words. Lena knew it the moment she opened her mouth. Ramon shot recriminating daggers at her, and Wayne’s face flamed.

  He sputtered and stammered as he said, “I—wasn’t holding him tightly until I almost fell. Then I tried to keep him upright so I wouldn’t fall on him.”

  “A dancer—”

  Ramon stopped her. “Magdalena!”

  Unsure what else to do, she stepped forward and held out her arms. “Show me.”

  Wayne would have protested, but Ramon clapped. “Excellente! Sí! Do it!”

  His red face turned a glistening greenish yellow as he took one hand in hers and slipped his other around her back. Three months ago, Lena would have laughed. Now all she could do was wince and wonder what the ring could have meant. He didn’t act like a man ready to propose.

  Their eyes met and held. With subtle moves he couldn’t notice if he even knew to look for them, Lena guided his lead, kept her counter-lead subtle, and self-consciousness melted away. Right up to the moment Ramon cheered and reminded Wayne that they weren’t alone.

  Had she been dancing with him instead of Wayne, Lena might just have chosen to slap his face. Wayne’s expression hinted that he concurred. She smiled. He returned it.

  All awkwardness melted as he pushed forward one… two… Lena pushed back one… two… Just as everything began to feel a new sort of normal, Wayne began perspiring again. His hands became clammy, and he refused to look at her.

  A warm glow filled her heart as Lena thought she understood. He’s nervous. He’s afraid I’ll say no. She shot a look that said, “Get out of here,” to Ramon and kept dancing as he did. “You do so well, Wayne.”

  A strangled gurgle came from deep within him, but he couldn’t speak. Lena waited, leading and following him around the room. Just as she thought she might tell him the ring had arrived, a ringtone blared out, mingling badly with the staccato notes and long violin strains of “El Choclo.”

  He fumbled for it and winced. “Sorry, Lena. Jennie. I’ve got to take it. She might have to cancel our date tonight.”

  Confusion filled her. Why is he still dating her if he sent a ring to me?

  Five days left, and the ornament still hadn’t arrived. He held his phone in hand, wondering if he should call his niece for Emma’s number. What was the name of her shop? Little Star something? Star of Crossroads? Boutique Starlight?

  Each idea became more ridiculous than the last. He’d reached for his phone and almost had it out of his pocket when Lena burst through the curtain and fixed it in place behind her. In seconds she stood close enough to whisper, “Do we have the mistletoe yet?”

  “Tabitha is out at Willow’s place now, cutting me some more. Why?”

  “A man is here. He wants a dozen mistletoe kissing balls for gifts for his ‘girls.’” She moved a bit closer as if there was even room for that. “He has twelve daughters, do you think?”

  Wayne inched past her and peered through the gap in the curtain. Just as he’d expected. He shook his head as he moved back and pulled out an order pad. “Steve at the Aphrodite. His ‘girls’ are his almost underaged and severely under-dressed servers.” He scrawled out an order for twelve wrapped balls to be delivered by noon the next day with a special price for the man. “Give him that. He’ll accept.”

  Her breath danced across his cheek as she whispered, “You don’t think the less money is bad? It sets a bad pre…” sent his senses into overdrive. Her forehead and nose wrinkled in that way that still sent his heart skittering across his chest.

  “The word is precedent.” Wayne stopped himself just shy of squeezing her hand. “Giving a discount to everyone who walks in is bad for business. But when someone orders a dozen of something every year, when he can’t get it the day he wants it, giving him ten percent off says that we value his business and will take care of him.”

  A sharp no
d of the head—how had he not realized that it was a dance move instead of her intense personality? “Yes, this is what I think. But I then think I am wrong. Thank you, Wayne.”

  The way she said “Wayne,” punctured that skittering heart and sent it flying like a balloon. I need that ring before I make a fool of myself with Lena. She must be so relieved that I’m not trying to make her listen anymore that she’s relaxing.

  That thought is all it took. Wayne bolted out the back door, dashed back in for his coat, and tried once more. He hit the contact button for Out of the Blue Bouquet and prayed it wouldn’t go to voicemail—then prayed it would. After all, too busy to answer a personal call was good news—excellent news for any business person.

  The voice mailbox asked him to leave a message. “Hey, Brooke. I was just looking for Emma’s number. I wanted to make sure the ornament would be here in time. The party’s in five days… Hope you’re overrun with orders! I just got an order for twelve mistletoe kissing balls. I’ll trade you for whatever you have to do. Ugh. Talk to you soon. Sorry to bother you. Bye.”

  Her reply came back ten minutes later.

  I’ll ask Emma to send you an email when it ships. If she said it would be there by a certain date, it will. Deep breath. And I’ll trade you kissing balls for mistletoe and holly swags for a Christmas wedding.

  His quick reply said it all.

  No trade.

  Ramon dragged him upstairs at the end of the day, insisting that he needed to practice with Lena. His initial objections faded when Wayne decided Lena would never agree. So, he followed Ramon up the stairs and started as he saw Lena turn toward him with a smile.

  “You came. Good. If we are to succeed, we must practice.” She moved forward and waited for him to extend his arms. “It is kind of you to do this for—”

  Music blared and drowned out her words. Though Wayne thought he should know the name of the song, it escaped him as a swirl of notes announced themselves as “the tango.” Their distinct style begged to be danced. As Ramon had taught him, Wayne listened and synchronized himself with the music. His mind tried to count a beat, but Lena stopped him.

  “No, Wayne. Close your eyes. Listen with your heart. Only move when you’re ready.”

  Ramon had said the same thing—dozens of times. This time he understood. After a moment. It happened. Eyes closed, the music swelled through his heart and down into his feet. They knew what to do. For once.

  Again, Ramon cheered. “Very good. Very good.”

  Lena’s eyes offered more than Ramon’s simplistic praise. In them, he read what she didn’t need to say. She agreed. He did well. And somehow, that silent praise meant more than any of Ramon’s repeated assurances that he would be a fantastic dancer. Someday.

  Though their steps were simple. Basic. Still, he could feel it. They were becoming fluid. He was becoming fluid. That wasn’t something he’d ever expected.

  Even more than that, though, he’d learned something about the tango—something he had never imagined. It wasn’t the sensual, seductive dance he’d always understood it to be—not at the core. It’s probably how you use it, he mused. But really, it’s more a picture of a healthy relationship—the give and take. I didn’t have that with Lena. I do with— Honesty forced him to stop. Did he have that give and take with Jennie?

  He missed a cue and stomped on Lena’s foot as truth ripped blinders from him. I don’t. I give with her because I want her to fill that part of me that craves connection. Would she balk if I asked her to give a little?

  A sharp pain on his instep jerked Wayne out of his thoughts once more. “Oh, sorry, Lena. Lost my concentration for a moment.”

  “You have it now, so use it.”

  And I was wrong about Lena, he thought wryly. She does give as good as she gets. That’s one kind of give and take, anyway.

  Still, when he finally met her gaze, her eyes smiled at him. “Are you tired, or are you ready to tango?”

  It was a challenge, and if she hadn’t told him in no uncertain terms that they were through, he’d consider it a flirtation as well. “I won’t tangle my tango again.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Wayne had just opened his mouth to protest when she winked. What does that even mean?

  He had one recourse. Call Mom the moment they were through. Then go to Jennie’s.

  Barbara Farrell’s gaze darted back and forth from the tense scene on the screen to the jumbled stitches of her knitting—a new hobby she strongly suspected wouldn’t last past this scarf. Cop cars careened around a corner, chasing a motorcycle popping a wheelie as if that would help it get away faster. “Show off.”

  Her cell phone rang, and she tossed aside needles and yarn with one hand while fumbling for the remote with the other. With the scene on pause, the motorcycle bent at such an angle that he should have fallen off, she reached for her phone.

  Had Barbara been thinking, she would not have answered. However, the suspense did her in before rational thought could intervene. She tapped her screen and screeched, “Wayne!” the moment the call came through.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Okay, dial it back a little… “I was just thinking of you is all.” She hadn’t stopped thinking of him, since giving Lena’s address to Emma. But that was beside the point.

  “It’s about the ornament. It’s not—” Wayne broke off with a groan. “Ma, why would she flirt with me? Why now? And how do I know if I’m right? What gives?”

  Barbara fumbled for a response, but Wayne kept talking as if he hadn’t asked a question.

  “But I know she did. I’m not stupid. I know her. So, what gives? Why now?”

  Two “what gives?” It’s serious. Yes!

  “Ma?”

  “Sorry, son. Just thinking. Look, you knew Lena had a difficult past. You were going to marry her—for better or worse. But you fumbled when you didn’t give her time and space.”

  His lack of response told her much. Barbara waited. A chill rippled over her, but with a quick swipe at the back of the couch, a lap blanket dropped into place. For good measure, she tucked her toes under it and waited some more.

  The expected protest or request for further advice never came. The longer he didn’t speak, the deeper her heart sank. Son. I waited so long for you to find the right one. Don’t throw it away on your pride.

  “I didn’t just rush out and grab a new girlfriend, you know. I tried to work it out. I tried to give her space. I—”

  “And yet, inside a month, you had a new girlfriend.”

  “She hung up on me, Mom. Do you remember that? When I tried to explain, she wouldn’t listen. How can we work out problems in marriage if she won’t even try beforehand?”

  This Barbara couldn’t refute, and it irked her. “She could say the same about you. How can she trust you’ll be faithful to her if you take off with another woman the first time her past reaches out and shakes her up.” It was the wrong tack, and she knew it. Barbara tried again. “Can you tell me what you love about Jennie? Can you tell me why she matters more to you than Lena? Can you tell me how she has taken away and replaced your love for—”

  Wayne broke in. “I’m not an animal, Mom! I care about Lena, of course. But we just needed each other… a stepping—”

  “—stone to a new life. Yes, you said. But tell me about Jennie.”

  Flat, hollow words appeared in tumbled, jumbled disarray. Jennie made him laugh, she didn’t criticize him, they didn’t argue, and Barbara’s favorite, “She’s available.”

  She didn’t even bother hiding her mockery. “She’s… available?”

  “Emotionally, Mom! She’s emotionally available.”

  “Uh, huh.”

  Once more, she thought he’d disconnected, but Wayne’s voice broke through again. “She’s comfortable, Mom. She’s nice. You’ll love her. I promise.”

  “I’m sure I will, but do you? Do you really love her? Or do you love having a her in your life?”

  While Wayne
waxed eloquent—well, for him anyway—about all the ways Jennie was a superior choice for him, Barbara closed her eyes, tuned out the still-frozen motorcycle chase from her mind, and turned to the Lord. It’s like junior high all over again. But he didn’t do this in junior high. That was Lydia. It’s like he has to go through that awkward, juvenile relationship phase before he can really understand or something.

  “Ma?”

  She’d missed most of the tail end of his waxings, but Barbara took a chance. “So what you’re saying is… she ‘completes you’?”

  “I think I’ll go now. Jennie’s waiting. Love you.”

  Only his chuckle showed that he wasn’t angry. As the phone went dead in her hands, Barbara sagged against the couch and sighed. “He completely forgot about the ornament.” Her gaze rose heavenward. “I want to thank You, Lord. Even if You didn’t cause that somehow, I still want to thank You. Just a few more days…”

  Three days before the ornament exchange, Lena decided not to go. What if she got Wayne’s ornament or worse, what if he got hers and misunderstood? The more she thought about it, the more jittery she became until she’d charged three times the cost for a small Christmas basket and barely caught up with the man in time to issue a refund.

  That’s all it took. The moment the man exited the shop again, with an odd glance back at her for good measure, Lena flipped through her contacts and called Tabitha Allen. “Can you come? We need the help. Right now.”

  Assured she’d arrive in fifteen minutes or less, the girl disconnected before Lena could even thank her. Wayne popped in. “Everything okay?”

  “I am going home.” She scribbled a note reminding him to dock her half a day’s pay and shoved it in the cash register. “Tabitha, she is coming. She will—”

  Lena couldn’t finish. The door jingled as it opened to welcome three women laughing and joking about some party they’d been to. Wayne stood there even as Lena went to greet them. She felt it in the stare that bored twin holes in the back of her skull. But with head held high and every bit of poise she’d ever been taught, Lena began the work of finding six floral arrangements for the local nursing home—for residents without family to visit or send gifts.