by Ellie Mack
Today was going to decide the course of many people’s future. Who would win? The person who’d been in office for over a decade, or the surprise newbie that no one saw coming? Chester kind of hoped Brandon would.
Charlotte bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. If only this reporter knew. “If you ask around, you’ll hear a lot about Brandon. He’s always done what he could, and he even volunteered on weekends when other kids wanted to play video games. He also played football, was on Student Council, and was Salutatorian of his high school class. In college, he majored in political science and still managed to keep up his weekend activities. You know that program where a group of volunteers will go around the neighborhood and help out the people who need it? Mowing grass, taking out the trash, walking dogs...?”
“Yes, there really isn’t much they won’t do, and it happens in multiple neighborhoods. Why?”
“Brandon organized it when he was eleven. At first, no one wanted to help him, so his father and I went out with him. We certainly weren’t going to allow an eleven-year-old to go from stranger’s house to stranger’s house alone. People started to talk about this kid, and soon others were volunteering. Now it happens in other neighborhoods.”
“I’ve never heard—”
“You wouldn’t, and you won’t. Most don’t know that he was the first, and he’s perfectly fine with that. It was about helping others who needed it, not starting a movement.”
Chester was momentarily stunned and swallowed hard, trying to think of his next question. “What…ahem…What made him decide to run for office?” It was one question everyone wanted to know, yet not one reporter had gotten a real answer. Instead, they got the answer almost every politician gave, “I wanted to help my community and the people of my city.” Blah. Blah. Blah.
Snickering, Charlotte said, “He wanted to help.”
“That’s it?” Chester had believed there was more, but if that was all, then maybe Brandon was just like the others that were running in the rat race.
“Sort of.”
“What do you mean?”
Charlotte narrowed her eyes, sizing up the man before her. “He got angry.”
“I don’t understand.” This woman was talking in circles, and it was starting to annoy him.
“He has two very good friends. They are both men and want to start a family. They recently got married. Some people want to take away simple freedoms everyone takes for granted, and Brandon didn’t like it. So he decided to run for office. Honestly, I’m a little surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”
“Two friends?” Chester was starting to believe that this Brandon guy was almost too good to be true.
“But he is true. What you see is what you get with him.”
“Did I…?” His words tapered off with his embarrassment.
“You did, but that’s all right.”
“And what about his significant other?” Chester blurted trying to forget his blunder.
“Why does it matter?”
“He’s single and running for office. Most of the time, the people want to know about the person behind the man or woman.”
“Brandon is single right now, and when he’s ready to settle down, he will.”
Laughing, Chester told her, “You make him almost sound reverent and above it all.”
Charlotte thought about that for a moment. “No, just a man who cares about his city, his people, and anyone who’s hurting.” She left him standing there with that and approached the stage, moving closer to her son, who she had no doubt would win today.
Chester wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. It wasn’t like a mother would tell on her son, but the thing was, nobody had anything negative to say about Brandon, and that never happened. He’d hoped for some insight, but now he had more questions than answers. And as the man of the hour approached the mic to speak, Chester wondered what the future would bring.
Seeing a man digging through the trash, Chester approached him and handed him a twenty-dollar bill. If Brandon could try to help others when he was younger, Chester could do it when he was thirty…and maybe, in the end, that was what mattered.
His heart beat a mile a minute, pulsing like an internal drum. Collin’s gaze darted back and forth, uncertain that he’d heard correctly. “What? Me? Are…are you sure?” Could it be true? Could he finally be getting what he’d been so desperately wishing for?
The day before—Christmas Eve…
Another year passed. Another year without parents or a family. Usually, the houses Collin ended up in for the holiday season, focused on their own kids, ignoring him. Either that or there were too many kids piled into a house and Christmas passed like any other day of the year.
And yet…he never stopped believing or hoping there was something more out there for him, that one day, he would find that family who wanted to love and keep him. His Christmas wish.
Seven years of getting shuffled from foster home to foster home. Seven years of wishing and finding nothing except disappointment. Collin wasn’t sure why he bothered anymore. And now that he was twelve, he’d been told plenty of times that he’d become too old to believe in nonsense like Christmas wishes and Santa Claus. Maybe the latter didn’t exist, but he still held out hope that the former did because if it didn’t, he had nothing to look forward to, nothing to get him through his dreary life.
Collin was five when he lost his parents in a car accident on a cold and rainy December day. Christmas Eve. That should have been enough to make him stop believing, but he couldn’t. His mother had always told him that Christmas was magical, and it was the one day a year extraordinary things happened.
So far, it hadn’t worked. When he was five and lost his parents, he wished so hard that they would come back to him, but they were lost to him forever. At six, he wished to stay with his aunt, his mom’s sister, but she gave him up and said she couldn’t keep him. She was young and single and didn’t want a child. At the beginning, even being so young, he’d known he wasn’t wanted by her, but at least she’d tried it for a year before giving up. At seven, he wished for a new family, but he didn’t get it…and hadn’t each year he’d made the wish since.
Thinking back on his disappointments made him want to give up, made him want to stop believing in wishes, hope, and the Christmas magic he could remember his mother telling him about. She would weave story after story, recounting tales that had been passed down to her…and it was that memory and the warmth he felt when he remembered that kept him going.
He wasn’t sure why no one wanted to keep him. He helped out with the chores, behaved well, and always made good grades in school, but everyone dumped him. He’d heard the whispered words from his social workers and previous foster parents of “too old” or “Collin’s not a baby,” and he understood even as it stripped away some of his hope.
“Collin, dinner’s ready,” a feminine voice called out from the door of the room he was staying in. This family had taken him in three months ago, and while he still wished to stay, he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Coming,” he called out.
The Birds were a stereotypical family with a kid of their own and another on the way. They’d opened up their home to foster kids for some reason. Collin wasn’t sure why, but this was also the first family that didn’t treat him any differently than their own child. Maybe that was why he still wanted to believe in the power of Christmas wishes. He didn’t hold out hope though because Bethany Bird was ready to pop, and once they had the new baby, they wouldn’t want him.
Sitting down to dinner, Bethany was about to put a bowl of peas on the table when she groaned and dropped the bowl, the glass shattering and peas scattering.
“Beth,” her husband, Lawrence shouted and rushed to her side.
“It’s time,” she said through clenched teeth.
Did it normally happen this quickly? Collin wasn’t sure. She’d been just fine a moment before. Did this mean his time with them had come to an end, hi
s life ending once again on a Christmas Eve?
“Collin, grab Molly and let’s go,” Lawrence instructed.
Collin did as he was told and helped get their five-year-old ready for the trip to the hospital. After getting Molly into the car, he was about to go back into the house when Lawrence said, “Get in. We’ve got to go. We’ll have to call Grandma when we get there.”
Fifteen hours later, Collin and Molly had been ushered into a hospital room where Bethany lay in a bed holding a small baby in her arms. Collin tried to stay away, tried to step back, but his foster parents wouldn’t allow it. “Come and see the baby. His name is Spencer,” Bethany spoke softly.
Collin shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled slowly to the bed. Peering down into the tiny pink face, he felt a protectiveness he’d never felt before, and a love he’d never thought to experience. There was something about this little baby.
“Collin?” Lawrence called out to the older boy, a smile on his face.
“What?” Collin glanced up, waiting for the blow he’d been expecting. He’d be leaving after the holidays, he was sure of it.
“What do you think of your new brother?”
Frowning, he snapped his head this way and that. He didn’t understand. “What?”
“How would you feel about staying with us? About calling Molly and Spencer your sister and brother?”
That stopped Collin. “What?” He had to have heard wrong.
Bethany nodded. “We talked about it, and we want to adopt you, to keep you in our family…if you want.” She bit her lip and appeared worried.
His heart beat a mile a minute, pulsing like an internal drum. Collin’s gaze darted back and forth, uncertain that he’d heard correctly. “What? Me? Are…are you sure?” Could it be true? Could he finally be getting what he so desperately wished for?
“Never been more sure,” Lawrence declared and pulled both Collin and Molly in for a hug.
Finally, his Christmas wish had come true. “You were right, Mom,” Collin whispered as he buried his face into Lawrence’s chest while tears fell down his face.
About Maria Vickers
Maria Vickers currently lives in St. Louis, MO with her pug, Spencer Tracy. She has always had a passion for writing and after she became disabled in 2010, she decided to use writing as her escape. She believes that life is about what you make of it. You have to live it to the fullest no matter the circumstances.
From a young age, she has always loved books and even dreamed of being an author when she was younger. Growing up in the Navy, she used to weave tales for her siblings and her friends about anything and everything. And when she wasn't creating her own stories, she had a book in her hand. They transported her to another world. She hopes that with her books, her readers have the same experience and that they can relate to her characters. Getting sick changed her life forever, but it also opened doors for her that she thought would always be out of reach.
SOCIAL MEDIA LINKS:
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Join her reader group, Maria’s Love Seekers.
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Other Books by Maria Vickers
Love Seekers Series (contemporary romance series)
Exposed
Redeemed
Claimed
By the Book (an MM contemporary romance)
Off-Campus Setup (an MM contemporary romance)
Siren’s Song (contemporary romance novella)
Appearing in the Siren’s of SaSS Anthology
Benefiting VetSports
Live Again (an MM contemporary romance novella)
Appearing in Tempting Fate Anthology
Benefiting Cancer Research Institute
Another Chance (contemporary romance)
Back when they had been in training, they had laughed in Rude’s face and treated him like an outsider, the group teasing him and bullying at every chance. So his face was flushed and his nose was reddened by the winter cold, so what? He could think up a thousand things to criticize about them too. Being the newest member of the Assassins Guild meant they were giving him a hard time, but he had never expected they would take it to such lengths. They had even started calling him Rude the Red Nose, to the degree that they had painted that name across his door.
Enough time passed, and here he was fully trained and working alone as intended. It had been years since he had seen anyone from his training days, and yet, it still ate away at him the way they had mentally tormented him. He wished now he had made a bigger deal out of it to their teacher and master, the man they only knew as San. Instead, he had always planned on getting them back somehow, in some way, down the line.
He had never expected that opportunity would be offered to him on a plate by his former teacher. After receiving an invitation from his master, Rude found himself on a quiet estate in the hills of Italy. The place was lavishly decorated and clearly hundreds of years old, built from a type of old white marble. It was unusual to get an invitation to interact with anyone from the Assassins Guild once you had finished training, and yet, here he was. He was a little suspicious; he would keep his guard up.
At the door, Rude was greeted by a maid of some description. He wasn’t certain how to act around her, so he just politely nodded when she asked his name. He was invited to wait in the hallway downstairs whilst she headed up to the second floor. She returned quickly, albeit not in a hurry, and explained that San wished for Rude to ‘welcome him with his presence’. Rude hated the officious nature of things such as this.
He climbed the large open stairway, pulling himself up with the use of the handrail. The place was unnecessarily large and felt highly ostentatious. The architecture was beautiful, and the paintings hanging off the walls were excellent pieces of artistry; otherwise, it just didn’t feel like a home to him but rather like a museum. Reaching the top of the stairs, he walked into the only open double doorway into a bedroom that was subtly lit. It was decorated in a hundred shades of red, shades of which he knew he didn’t know the names of.
On the bed, he saw the large body of a man, his beard growing halfway down his chest, and his hair growing into a fuzzy white mess. He approached the figure, and just from his eyes, Rude recognized the man he had known as San. He had been a dark haired and physically fit man, who was clean-shaven and handsome. Now he was old, withered, gray-haired and overweight, but the smile in his eyes seemed to warm up the room, and Rude couldn’t help but smile back.
“Rude, you have come! It is so good to see you, yes!” he said warmly, pushing himself into a better-seated position on the bed.
“It has been a long time, master. I never thought I would see you again.” Rude walked up to the head of the bed and sat.
“Rude, I don’t have long left I’m afraid. Illness has gotten the better of me. Christmas will be quiet around here.”
Rude nodded politely, giving his master a look of understanding. “Then may I ask why I am here?”
San chuckled. “Always straight to the heart of the matter, and I won’t keep you in suspense. I am dying and the Guild… it won’t last without a leader, someone to keep things together after I am gone.”
“You can’t be suggesting I take over?”
San nodded his head. “Certainly, you are by far my best student, one who understands what the guild is about, and you are, by far, the best assassin. The others, they have all failed their duty at some point. We have been fortunate that it hasn’t destroyed us. Once I am gone, you are fit to rebuild, or do as you will with the Guild.”
Rude sat silently and thought about it but for a moment, before deciding to take the offer, “I will do it.”
San’s smile grew massively. “I didn’t doubt you would. Please, talk to my maid about the details, and we can talk in the morning more thoroughly.”
Rude walked out onto the landing and stood at the top of the stairs, leaning against the balcony. He would become the greatest master the guild had e
ver seen, they would all come to love him. Except those who had teased him, the bullies of his youth, they would pay. He would capture each of them, naming them as he went, and watch them suffer at his hands before he killed them.
Dasher, the one who could never sit still. Dancer, the one who could never stop singing and dancing. Prancer, the one who thought assassins jumped around like morons. Vixen, the one who always started arguments with her malicious intent. Comet, the one who jumped from the trees like a fool. Cupid, the one who thought he was a ladies’ man. Doner, the one who stunk like cow meat… no, Donner, just because it would get under his skin that it was spelled incorrectly. And Blitzen, the one who always blitzed straight into a situation without thinking.
He would make them call out his name, make them shout it gleefully, begging for forgiveness, and then, one by one, he would assassinate them. They would call him Rude the Red Nose, the greatest assassin in history.
About Timothy Lee
Tim has honed his writing skills over the past few years writing novels and short stories in his spare time and NaNoWriMo. He resides in Birmingham UK with his family. Tim enjoys the great outdoors pursuing a healthy lifestyle and loves to escape to other worlds via gaming and reading.
Acknowledgments
Thank you for your support. This project would not have happened without the authors and the readers. All proceeds will benefit Cancer Research Institute. We all hope that one day there will be a cure.
Thank you to the readers, bloggers, authors, and our loved ones for supporting this project.
