Chapter Eleven
Tears overflowed from Zoe’s eyes. She promised herself she wouldn’t cry anymore, but then she’d see or hear something that reminded her of Donovan and all her emotions overflowed into liquid pools.
In the three days since her life had turned upside down, she’d received countless phone calls and emails asking for exclusive interviews. Everyone wanted their own slice of her story. The only problem was, it was her story, not theirs.
If she’d wanted the attention, she would have announced herself in the beginning. No news outlet could possibly understand the heart of why she’d started. They’d take her pain and exploit it for ratings.
She’d stopped checking her email, had seriously considered changing her phone number. If she had one wish this Christmas, it would be to make it all stop.
No, that wouldn’t be it.
Her one wish would be for it to never have happened. Then Donovan wouldn’t have betrayed her, and her heart wouldn’t be shattered to pieces. How could she have been so wrong about him? That’s what she got for falling in love with him in a month when she’d kept herself closed off for the five years before that.
Snowball jumped on her lap, and Coal lay down beside her. Even they sensed her heartache and comforted her by sitting near her and not on their usual opposite ends of the sofa. Some Christmas Eve this turned out to be.
She scratched Coal behind the ears. “What am I going to do?”
The thought of moving crossed her mind, but she squelched it. Nativity was her home, for better or worse—and while the worse weighed heavier at the moment, she loved this town. She wouldn’t let one person’s betrayal push her away. She’d even started to make friends at church—real friends, deeper than the superficial.
Thanks to Donovan who motivated me to seek friendships. Ironic, huh?
Her doorbell rang, and she ignored it. Reporters across the state and even the country had shown up at her door, hoping for an interview. The intrusion into her privacy annoyed her more than the emails and phone calls. Was there no respect left in the world? How were they getting into the complex? Someone had to be giving out the code, which went against the policy.
She had half a mind to call the office and report the latest press member for trespassing.
Why not share your story personally since you’ve already been discovered?
Pride. She pulled her cardigan closed around her. Since Donovan had broken her trust, she’d wallowed in self-pity, letting her wounds fester. A heart could only be repaired so many times.
I am close to the brokenhearted, My child.
The reminder snapped her into reality. True, Donovan had hurt her, but she shouldn’t have allowed him the power to ruin her Christmas. Christmas was about friends and family, gifts and wonder.
But more than any of those combined, it was the celebration of the Savior’s birth.
The small inconveniences she’d experienced by having her identity discovered were nothing compared to what He’d gone through to save the world. To continue moping contradicted all that the holiday stood for. She’d been through worse than this in her life—much worse—and came out standing. She’d come out on the other side of this on two feet as well.
Her heart still ached, but her attitude shifted. She got off the sofa and went to her computer, set her music streaming service to her favorite Christmas station. To prove to herself she’d shifted perspectives, she logged into her email for the first time in days. Ignoring any pertinent messages for the sole sake of not seeing information requests was foolish and served no purpose. All she had to do was delete those with a click of the mouse.
Three hundred new emails waited for her. Her eyes widened as she scanned the subjects.Thank you.Your candy cane saved my life. My Candy Cane Story. Thank you for the candy cane wish.You don’t know me, but I wanted to share my story.
The list continued. She returned to the top and opened the first email.
Dear Ms. Daniels,
For three years, I’ve wanted to thank whoever left the candy cane in the hospital waiting room, and now I have that opportunity.
My father had a heart attack on Thanksgiving three years ago. His prognosis was grim, and I was devastated. You see, my mom left when I was five, so Dad was the only parent I’ve ever known. I was a senior in college at the time and had commuted from home all four years to stay close to Dad. I sat in that waiting room for hours, wondering how I’d go on without him.
I picked up a magazine, a last-ditch effort to reroute my worrisome thoughts. A candy cane fell out with a slip of paper attached. On it was written a verse that said God would be a father to the fatherless. It was exactly what I needed to hear at that moment.
Without your message on the candy cane that night, I imagine my life would have turned out bitter when Dad passed away several days later. I know without a doubt he is in a better place now and singing praises to the Lord he loved.
I miss him every day, but I am married now and expecting my first child next spring. Dad’s legacy will live on in all that he taught me which I’ll soon be able to pass on to my son.
Thank you again, for the candy cane wish. It changed my life, and I imagine countless others.
With Gratitude,
