Lines E-Book

Angel Rupert

• Herausgeber: Bentockiz
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

I was determined to start over and do things right. I had already told them that I wouldn’t be moving into their new apartment with them. I figured others would be more than happy to take my spot. They had both been very upset. I wondered which one would win the lottery leaving the other one out in the cold. That seemed to be the way it went with our group, everyone always out for themselves.

Leseprobe

Title Page

Lines

Passion and Promises

Angel Rupert

Lines / 2nd of series: Passion and Promises / By Angel Rupert

Published 2023 by Bentockiz

e-book Imprint: Calkden Norsh

e-book Registration: Stockholm, Sweden

e-book ISBN: 9789198848717

e-book editing: Athens, Greece

Cover Images created via AI art generators

Table of Contents

Title Page

Introduction

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Introduction

Through books we come into contact with everything important that has happened in the past, analyzing also current events and putting our thoughts together to predict the future. The book is a window to the world, acquiring valuable knowledge and sparking our vivid imagination. It is a means of entertainment and is generally seen as a best friend, or as a slave that carries together all valuable information for us. The book is a friend who stays together without demands, a friend you call upon at every moment and abandon when you want.

It accompanies us in the hours of boredom and loneliness, while at the same time it entertains us. In general, a book does not ask anything from us, while it waits patiently on a dusty shelf to give us its information, to get us out of dead ends and to travel us to magical worlds.

This may be the travel mission of our books. Abstract narration, weird or unconscious thoughts difficult to be understood, but always genuine and full of life experiences, these are stories of life that can’t be overlooked easily.

This may be the start of something amazing!

Chapter One

I laughed out loud in sheer joy as I pictured the look on Garnet’s face if I showed up at work dressed from top to bottom as the jolly old man’s wife...truly a Kodak moment.

“Oh my,” the woman next to me gasped and pointed towards the ceiling, “I think I hear something on the roof.”

And there it was...the unmistakable sound of reindeer hooves on the shingles and the faint sound of tinkling bells in the distance.

“It’s time!” the boys yelled in unison promptly turning and loping into the large living area.

As the kids gathered around the oversized stone fireplace, it was obvious from their barely control squirming as they fought the urge to jump up and head towards the empty and surprisingly clean cavernous hole in the wall that had to be the largest fireplace I’d ever seen, that they knew what was coming.

The fact that it was Christmas Eve, that the kids were gathered around a fireplace, that there were reindeer on the roof, and that I was dressed as Mrs. Santa...well...even I could figure out that it must be Santa Claus coming.

Condor was wrong...I possessed a modicum of intelligence.

We heard him long before we saw him...his ‘ho ho ho’ echoing down the chimney and out the fireplace below rang out clearly in the suddenly quiet living room. The only movements in the room were some of the younger boys elbowing each other and mouthing ‘Santa’ in awe.

And then suddenly he was there...the jolly old man himself...booming ‘ho ho ho’ as he landed on his feet inside the huge fireplace. Immediately afterwards, two elves landed on either side of him, complete with matching, albeit smaller, red cloth bags slung on their backs.

Although I was fairly certain no one else noticed, I saw Santa surreptitiously disconnecting the rappelling line from underneath the back of his bright red jacket before ducking just a bit and moving onto the tile in front of the fireplace, hiding the two elves from view for a few seconds. That provided time for the less experienced helpers to unhook themselves and move out beside Santa.

I was totally impressed by the ingenuity of it all. Someone had created some extremely well thought-out plans and executed them perfectly. The whole set-up had ‘Grunt’ written all over it.

Of course, I was a bit disappointed that Santa wasn’t Grunt, but how could he be? Grunt never talked, and the children needed a talking Santa. Replaying the note in my head, I realized I’d misinterpreted it.

Could you be Mrs. Claus for a group of orphan boys?

The note he’d left me had asked if I could be Mrs. Claus...not if I could be his Mrs. Claus. And it was enough that he’d thought of me to play the role. I understood completely and was more than happy to be Mrs. Claus for the night.

“Santa!” dozens of wide-eyed kids exclaimed in wonder.

“Santa,” I murmured in appreciation, a half-smile curving my lips.

Wow!

Whoever was playing Santa was built...no bowl-full-of-jelly stomach for that jolly old elf. No sirree...not that Santa. I’d never seen a Santa with shoulders that wide or hips that tapered or leg muscles that looked as if the material covering them was stretched to the max...and not from fat, either.

He was too short to be Condor, so it had to be Fresco. Although I had never heard Fresco talk before the incident at the Embassy, at least I knew he could talk...not much, apparently, but more than Grunt...and enough to play Santa. I figured that Grunt and Condor were somewhere up on the roof waiting to haul Fresco back up after every child’s wish had been fulfilled.

Suddenly, all eyes were on me and I realized I’d zoned out and had no idea what was going on.

“Well, Mrs. Claus,” Santa boomed, “the children want to know if you have a hug and a kiss for the husband you haven’t seen in a while.”

As the kids cheered and shoved me towards the man in the red suit, I realized something...Santa looked familiar...and not Fresco familiar.

Wait a minute...wait just a doggone minute...the man with the deep booming voice...it couldn’t be...there was no way...I mean, Grunt didn’t talk...he’d told me so himself...or at least nodded when I’d asked...

Reaching the jolly old elf’s side, I raised my eyes to his blue twinkling ones and knew for sure it was Grunt...my Grunt...and he could talk.

As he leaned over me, eyes asking me to give him a chance to explain, I decided I didn’t care about the how or why of it...all that mattered was that the man I loved was right there, ready and willing to kiss me in front of a bunch of cheering children. I threw my arms around his neck and planted one on him.

How I managed to keep that kiss G rated—okay, maybe a bit of PG thrown in with just a smidge of PG-13—I had no idea, but when it was over, Grunt’s grin was so wide I feared his bright red cheeks would split wide open. Of course, I couldn’t stop smiling myself, but that was another matter.

I helped Santa and his two trusty elves attend to at least three dozen children before Santa finally stood and said his reindeer were getting restless. Amazingly enough, not a single child had opened a single present the whole time Santa was there and, as they all stood waving and yelling goodbye, I realized that although the children were excited to receive a gift, the best gift of all had been Santa and the attention he’d given them.

And I had no idea why.

During my own childhood, Santa had been nothing more than a symbol for all of the things I wanted for Christmas each year. However, the shining light that had been in each of the children’s eyes—regardless of age—when I’d arrived, still hadn’t dimmed as Santa said goodbye and none of them even glanced at the presents at their feet as they stood and saw Santa off. It was truly an amazing sight.

“Bye Santa,” I whispered as I reached up and kissed his cheek.

“Ho ho ho,” he bellowed as his grip tightened on my waist, “Mrs. Claus doesn’t realize that she gets to ride home with me in my sleigh,” he boomed to the children.

“Yay, Mrs. Santa,” they all cheered.

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” I stammered as I realized what all that entailed.

“Oh yes, Mrs. Claus,” Santa murmured as he turned me towards the fireplace, “our magical night has just begun and I’m not letting you out of my sight for a second.”

As we ducked into the fireplace, our backs to the children shielding the elves from sight, the two teenagers quickly connected the rappelling line. With a couple of jerks on the lines, Grunt indicated that the boys were ready and they began their ascent.

Turning us to face the children once more, Santa waved with one hand as he let loose with a final ‘ho ho ho’ while I surreptitiously assisted him in hooking up his own line.

“Where’s mine,” I whispered in alarm.

“You, my dear sweet wife, don’t need one,” he chuckled as he gave two tugs on his own line before wrapping both arms firmly around my waist. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ve got you.”

“I’m glad,” I murmured as I threw both arms around his neck and planted another one on him.

Reaching the top, Condor helped me climb out of the huge chimney.

“So, how do we get down from here?” I asked as Grunt joined me on the roof.

“Ladder...for a quick get-a-way,” Condor replied. “You two go ahead...I will finish up, ensuring that the children hear the reindeer take off.”

“Are you sure?” Grunt asked.

“It’s your night, my friend...go...enjoy it.”

“Thanks, Condor,” I said laying a hand on his arm.

“Do not make me regret my part in this,” he warned.

“I won’t,” I promised as I took Grunt’s hand, “not ever.”

As soon as we hit the ground, Grunt guided me to a large black SUV.

“Where are we going?”

“An apartment we use when we’re in town,” he said as he helped me in. “We need to talk.”

“What about the other two...will they be busting in on us anytime soon?”

“No, we’ll be alone...but don’t worry, I don’t have designs on your virtue.”

“Pity,” I said as he slammed my door shut, “since I have designs on yours.”

“Now is not the time, Sweetheart,” Grunt said as he gently removed my arms from around his neck. “We need to talk.”

“If you insist,” I said sighing heavily.

Situating myself cross-legged on the couch facing Grunt, I pulled the blanket off the back and wrapped myself in it.

“There a reason why I can’t talk most of the time,” he began.

“Wait...what...? Are you saying this is just a fluke? That you really can’t talk?”

“Only at certain times,” he admitted. “That’s why it’s so important we talk tonight because by tomorrow...” he shrugged.

“I’m so sorry,” I said in mortification. “I just assumed that there was some deep dark secret that you couldn’t tell me and that you didn’t talk because of that or...”

I paused and took a couple of deep breath before continuing.

“I’m listening now. Please tell me.”

“As seems to be the case with most of Garnet’s agents, my story begins with a childhood that was less than ideal...all but the first five years, anyway. I was five when my parents, both police officers, agreed to throw me my first real birthday party. I’d begun kindergarten and had made some friends and I was very excited that my birthday was the first one in the class that year, so mine would be the first party. The party went smoothly, and everyone had a great time. After the kids left, my parents began packing up all of my presents and I was supposed to help them, but I couldn’t tear myself away from the row of clown figures at the end of the play tunnel. Best I can remember, there were ten of them, all lined up, and I would crawl from one to the other and peek out the eyeholes and call to my parents. They couldn’t tell where I was and would invariably wave at the wrong clown and I would laugh at them and yell ‘You can’t find me because I’m a clown and clowns are tricky’. The two of them called to me that they were going to take the stuff to the car, and I yelled okay and continued to play. The gunmen entered while my parents were in the parking lot.”