Trisha circled Emmie's living room, inspecting the canvases and open sketch pads propped up against chairs and walls. "Jesus, Emmie, it's like the art co-op seeped up through the floorboards and took over your apartment.

"I've been doing a little drawing."

"A little! And the Titanic was a little boating accident." She picked up a charcoal drawing from the coffee table, raised an eyebrow, then placed it back down. "Do you even sleep?"

"Of course, I sleep. Sometimes. This is just... therapeutic." After her dramatic exit from Trisha's, Emmie had allowed herself one night of self-pity. Well, okay, maybe two. It had been Christmas, after all. She'd come home from the holiday gathering exhausted and disheartened. She'd felt justified to let herself wallow. But when the twenty-sixth rolled around, it was either do something constructive or succumb to despair. She couldn't very well do the second... so, creative outlet it was.

Melody was working the register at the co-op that morning when Emmie made her way down just after opening. "Well, nice to see you Emmie. How was your Christmas?"

"Oh... um, it was fine. Quiet. How was yours?"

"All five of the grandkids were there. Definitely not quiet! Albert played Santa and they were all so happy! Well, except for Kelvin. He's thirteen and spent all his time snapchatting or whatever it is they do. Is there something newer the teens are into now? Anyways, the younger ones were over the moon. It was a lot of fun, but I did most of the work. I'm glad it's over. And I ate too many cookies."

"Wow, that sounds... mainly good." Emmie smiled, hoping that her own lack of enthusiasm wouldn't show. Melody, however, was too perceptive to miss her tone.

"The holidays can be hard on us, for a variety of reasons. You're welcome over to our home anytime. I'm sure you were in good hands at Trisha's, though. Dan knows how to cook a feast, not like some husbands. I'm sure it was amazing!"

"Oh yes, the food was wonderful. Trisha was wonderful. I'm so glad she invited me." Please don't mention Ryker, please don't mention Ryker.

"Ryker showed up, didn't he?"

Dammit. "Are you psychic, Melody?"

She laughed. "Albert always asks me that when I tell him he's going to forget his wallet if he doesn't leave it in the bowl on the counter with his keys. Then he asks me the same thing ten minutes later when he has to come back to the house to retrieve that wallet from wherever he left it. But no, it's not psychic powers, it's simply a matter of understanding human nature. Well, male nature at least. Ryker is a creature of habit. He loves his family and even though he said he had other plans, he wouldn't miss Christmas. That's just him."

Emmie took a deep breath. "Without going into too many details -- because if I have to do that I'm going to seriously loose it, Mel -- yes he was there. And it was fine but not really fine at all. Like you, I'm just happy Christmas is over."

"Aww, come here, dear." Melody stepped around the counter, arms spread wide. Before Emmie could decide if she wanted to be hugged or not, she found herself wrapped in the older woman's soft embrace. "There, there. It will be okay."

Emmie nodded into Melody's shoulder. She knew it would be, but it was nice to hear it all the same. She pulled back and smiled again, this time without having to force the corners of her mouth to turn upwards. "Thanks, Mel. I actually came down here for something totally un-Ryker related."

"Oh?"

"That's right. I came here for art."

After that, Melody had helped Emmie pick out paper, charcoals, pencils, pens, even some acrylics, though painting wasn't her preferred medium.

She'd swallowed the cost, which thankfully was discounted due to Emmie's participation in their weekly art gatherings, and then retreated to her apartment.

Iola's always closed Christmas Eve through New Years day so the staff could spend time with their families. With no family to occupy her days, this gave Emmie a lot of free hours to wield her pencil. And so she had, filling up one sketch book and then a second. She carefully cut some of the pages out and set them up to see them side by side. Soon, her living room was covered in the abstract shapes and shadows she'd extricated from her mind and put to page. It had been a cathartic experience.

"These are really interesting, Emmie." Trisha stood facing one of the few larger pieces Emmie had attempted, bold swirling lines filled with intricate patterns filling the page.

"You think so?" She took a step towards the drawing. "You're not just saying that? You're probably just saying that."

"No, of course not. You know I wouldn't lie to you about it. If they sucked, I'd just keep my mouth shut altogether."

"Well, I mean, I had a lot on my mind and it kind of all spilled out like this." She tapped one of the half-completed sketch pads. "I wasn't trying to do anything special."

"All art is special, Emmie. But these have a little added something. Did you do these first?" She pointed to a row of several dozen drawing, heavy tumultuous dark grey lines scrawled with a firm hand across the page.

"Yes, how'd you know?"

"There's a progression here." She moved on to another corner of the room. There the sketches were lighter, somehow. The pencil had a delicateness and grace that was absent from the earlier drawings. "This is you processing your, um... your issues."

She was right about that. Emmie picked up a small square of paper. Compared to some of her earlier pieces, this one almost appeared flowery, though such an impression hadn't been her conscious intent when she'd created it. She recalled feeling at ease and satisfied when she'd worked on it. She hadn't realized exactly what she'd done until Trisha pointed it out. It had taken an outside eye to see it.

"We should show these."
"What?"

"At the co-op. We should have a showing just for you."

"Oh, no. No way. I don't think anyone would want to see these." She glanced around the room. "I don't know if I want anyone to see them. It was hard enough to let you up here."

"Well... think about it. It doesn't have to be tomorrow. You could keep working on all of it. We only need to show a fraction of these, though, to be honest. You could pick the ones you feel most confident about."

"I don't know. Maybe." The thought of having an opening did have its appeal. At the same time, putting up her own work and having strangers come to scrutinize it made her stomach dance. "I can't give you an answer now. But I will think about it. I promise."

"Good!" Trisha set a blank canvas aside and plopped down onto the couch. "So, now the real reason I came by. Ryker."

"Ugh! I've spent the last week avoiding that name."

"Yes, yes, I know. I don't blame you. But I still feel so badly about Christmas Eve."

"Don't. It's not your fault that he showed up and it's not your fault or his that I got so emotional. But I think you understand why I did."

Trisha nodded. "Your family. Christmas. I get it. God, I just feel awful that I contributed to your unhappiness, even if it was unwittingly. And Emmie, so does Ryker."

"I don't know about that."

"No, it's true. He wasn't the same the rest of the evening after you left. We all went to see a movie on Christmas day and he barely talked at all, even to the kids."

All Emmie could do was sigh. "I don't want to feel guilty that he feels guilty."

"I don't want you too either. Look, he's my brother and I've said it before; I know how he is. I never wanted you two to get involved, but you did anyways. And even though you've now been broken up longer than you had your little entanglement agreement up and running, you both still seem affected. Like... maybe there's still something there between the two of you. And if it's still there, maybe it's there for a reason."

She stood up again. "I'm just saying, Emmie. He really cared for you. Cares. Still. I know him, and again, you know I wouldn't say this sort of thing to you if it wasn't true. I just thought it was important for you to know."

Emmie gave her a hug. "I'm not sure how to deal with everything you've just said – an art opening, Ryker. So I'm just going to give you a hug and tell you I'll think it all over."

Trisha hugged her back. "I know you will. So. First day back to work tomorrow after our vacation. Are you up for it?"

"Yes, actually. I've barely left my apartment all week. I know it sounds crazy, but it will be good to get back to a routine."

"That's what the boss likes to hear."

With that, Trisha was out the door and Emmie was left with her drawings and art supplies and a million thoughts as to what she should do next.

A/N: I had a hard time finding suitable, copyright free images for today's post. Emmie's art is so personal. It's hard to find something that even closely resembles what I imagine her producing, but I did my best. Do you think Emmie will go through with the art opening? Is it even a good idea? And do you think Ryker is really feeling guilty?

You guys have been SO AWESOME lately! I'm feeling the love, big time. I love you right back! Thank you for all of your support. Your votes today will be collected and sent right to the co-op so that Emmie can buy more art supplies. She's got some more ideas that need to come out onto the page and she needs more pages!

I don't want to regret saying this but... I'm going to say it anyways. If I have enough writing time this weekend, you will get a bonus update on Monday. Be on the look out for it!