Page 44 of Believe
“No. It is what we make of it. The children are so little they won’t know anything is wrong. Tomorrow morning will be wonderful and we’ll have a nice breakfast. It will be perfect,” she smiled. “Next week you’ll find something. I just know it.”
He held his wife tightly, kissing her forehead. He realized what a lucky man he was, not for the first time this week. Just as they were about to decorate the tiny, pink, fake tree he’d found in a dumpster behind a drug store, with the homemade ornaments from paper and scraps of fabric, there was a soft knock at the door.
“Who could that be?” she asked. He shrugged and opened the door as she began to open the small box of ornaments.
“Ruth? Ruth, honey, come here,” he said.
He stepped out onto the porch, and she saw him looking up and down their small dirt road. The trailer they lived in wasn’t much, but they could afford it, and it didn’t leak.
“Who…” she started. “Oh, my God. What is this?”
“I don’t know. I opened the door, and this was sitting here,” he said. She stared at the five boxes of food, a turkey that she wasn’t even sure would fit in her oven, and wrapped gifts stacked on the porch.
“Is there a note?” she asked. He shook his head, then turned to his wife, smiling.
“It’s a Christmas miracle,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s an absolute Christmas miracle.”
“John, look. There is a note,” she said handing him the envelope that was peeking out from the top of a stocking. He opened the letter and gasped, gripping his abdomen, then the porch railing to keep himself from falling.
“What is it? John, what is it?” she asked.
“A job offer. It’s from Robicheaux Industries. They want a head of maintenance to keep all their businesses running smoothly. I’d be in charge of keeping up with the HVAC systems, cleaning the buildings, inspecting the roofs, everything.”
“Robicheaux? You can’t be serious,” she whispered.
“Honey. Look at the salary,” he said handing her the letter. Ruth actually got dizzy. She stepped backwards, falling into the porch swing. She lowered her head between her knees, taking deep breaths and then sat up again.
“Is this real?” she whispered.
“It’s their seal on the letterhead,” he said shaking his head. He continued reading the letter. “We’ve got healthcare, benefits, sick days, vacation and more. I get a company vehicle. A pick-up truck.”
“A vehicle,” she repeated in disbelief.
“The kids, the kids are receiving scholarships to attend their school. Ruth, our kids are going to the best school in the state. For free.”
Ruth cried, then laughed so hard she cried again, hugging her husband. They carried everything into the house, still in shock by what they saw. The tree was huge and they had to move the furniture around to accommodate. With all the gifts, they were tripping over themselves.
With the food put away, the gifts stored, the tree decorated and lit up, they sat back and stared, still feeling as though it were all a dream.
“It really is a miracle,” said John. Ruth laughed, kissing her husband.
“It is. But we were due at least one. I’ll spend the rest of my life paying this one back.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
On the damp, star-lit roads of south Louisiana, the countryside was quiet—almost too quiet for the kind of commotion that the men of Gray Wolf Security could bring. Their roles were vastly different tonight. In fact, Matthew made certain that they knew their roles were almost, almost like a Christmas Eve tale.
But tonight, their mission was not about safeguarding property or chasing down trouble. Tonight, they were the secret gift deliverers, the mysterious bringers of joy, moving softly among the bayous with arms full of presents and hearts full of laughter.
Gaspar, the unofficial head elf, with his towering figure and a booming laugh that could startle a gator, even Alvin, tried to keep them on task and on time. He used that same laugh to distract nosy neighbors while Nine, dashed up porches and carefully set down wrapped gifts before disappearing into the shadows, leaving nothing but the faint scent of aftershave and the twinkle of mischief in the air.
Gabe, whose hands were as deft with bows and tape as they were with security systems, made sure each package looked perfect. He had taken special pride in folding the corners just right, joking that he could make a present look so nice that even Santa would be jealous.
Alec, big as a bear but gentle as the bayou breeze, carried the heavier gifts—his beard glinting with stray bits of tinsel as he worked.
Tailor had been designated as their coordination man, charting the routes. He knew every back road, every gravel turn, and every old oak tree by heart. While others loaded the truck, Tailor double-checked the list, mumbling, “We can’t very well forget Miss June’s pecan pie, not after last year’s lemon bars disaster.”
Angel, who was as intimidating as he was soft-spoken, ferried the gifts that required a lighter touch—like jars of homemade jam and delicate ornaments wrapped in tissue paper.