Broken Together

by K. S. Ruff

  “What are you doing?” I objected.

  “Eva and her recruits from the Knights Templar will purchase the Bolo Rei. I’m sure they’ll wipe out every bakery in the city.” He pulled my thighs around his waist before scrolling through his list of contacts. With one hand grasping my hip, he pressed the phone to his ear. He thrust inside of me the second the person answered the phone.

  Desire pulsed through my entire body. I loved how this man felt inside of me… how thick he was… how consuming he was… and the way he so thoroughly possessed me. I moaned when he pulled our hips flush.

  Our eyes locked. Rafael held a lengthy conversation in Portuguese while moving our hips. Water sloshed all around us.

  I removed his hands from my hips so I could gain control. I wanted to see him unravel in the middle of the call.

  Rafael’s eyes darkened. He rasped out a few more instructions before ending the call. He latched onto my breast and the room faded to black.

  My head fell back. “What did you just do?” I panted. Half of me didn’t even care.

  “I just recruited the Lisbon police force and their families to help. They’ll purchase the games. We’ll purchase the books, wrapping paper, and bows. Everyone who’s available will meet at the station at six o’clock so we can wrap the presents.” He thrust a little harder. “Does that work for you?”

  “Yes,” I groaned.

  Rafael lifted my hips and pulled me down. Hard. We both cried out. I locked my arms around his neck as he spilled inside of me. The searing heat catapulted me toward release. His hips moved ever so slightly while he wrung every last bit of pleasure from me.

  I waited for our hearts to quiet. “Thank you,” I whispered.

  “For what?” he laughed.

  My arms tightened around his neck. “Everything. Thank you for everything.” I knew then, I was hopelessly in love with this man.

  * * * * *

  We wiped out the children and young adult sections of every bookstore in town, as well as the bookstores in a few neighboring towns. The PSP Rossio Station was filled to bursting with officers, Templar, and their families. The gift wrapping event morphed into a full blown party. The children wrapped the presents while the officers organized the gifts into boxes marked for different age groups. The women supervised the color coded wrapping, ran errands for additional supplies, and served food. I made a number of new friends with whom I visited long into the night. The boxes were loaded into police cars and vans so they could be delivered the next day.

  Rafael and I stumbled into bed during the early morning hours, which is why we were still lying in bed at ten o’clock in the morning. We were planning to join the rest of the officers who were delivering gifts to the Casa Pia Orphanage this afternoon.

  Rafael was drawing lazy figure eights along my back. “Would you like to attend mass tonight? The Igreja de Sta Maria at Belém has a beautiful Christmas Eve service.”

  I thought about the mass Michael and I attended at Notre Dame in Paris, France. I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness and loss. I’d been avoiding church for far too long. “I would like that very much.”

  Rafael brushed my tears away after tucking me beneath him. “I love you, Kristine. I love you so much it hurts.” His body trembled with the full force of his emotions. “I don’t know how to survive this. You’re the only family I have left.”

  Tears clogged my throat and flooded my eyes. In ten days’ time we’d be living on different continents, an entire ocean apart. His sunset would be my sunrise.

  Rafael buried his face in my neck. He let the full weight of his body relax onto mine. “Promise me we’ll survive this.”

  My hands tangled in his hair as I lifted his head and peered into his eyes. “I’m not the only family you have left. The Templar, those other officers, Chief D’Souza, Eva, and Benjamim; they’re you’re family too.”

  “That may be so, but you hold the other half of my heart.” His voice broke.

  “I know.” The ache in my chest told me that Rafael was hoarding the other half of mine. “It’s only for a short while. I’ll come to Lisbon just as soon as I graduate, and I’ll visit every month until then.”

  “Promise me,” he ordered.

  “I promise. Now, make love to me before we go. I want your child growing inside my tummy by the time I return to Portugal.”

  Rafael’s eyes flared with desire and hope. He tugged the camisole over my head and ravished my breasts before removing the rest of our clothes. We were naked, our arms and legs seeking purchase, when he slammed inside of me. His lips consumed mine as he thrust again and again.

  I locked my arms and legs around him as he drove inside of me. My back arched on its own accord. We both screamed when he came. Rafael filled me with a searing heat, shattering me. Twice. Then, with painstaking precision, he knit us back together. He stole my breath, the other half of my heart, and my soul. Then, and only then, did two halves became a whole.

  * * * * *

  “You do realize I’m going to want to take them all home,” I warned.

  “All?” Rafael repeated with wide eyes. He helped me from the car.

  I gazed up at the old historic building. The orphanage appeared to be housed within a convent or a monastery comprised of multiple buildings that were tucked behind a sharply pointed wrought iron fence. “Well, maybe not all” I teased. “Maybe four or five.”

  He spoke briefly through the intercom at the gate. After a low hum, the gate clicked open. Rafael left the gate open for the other officers.

  A petite woman with steel gray hair met us at the door. Rafael introduced himself as we stepped inside the foyer. He spoke briefly in Portuguese before switching to English. “This is my noiva, Kristine Stone, the woman I told you about on the phone.”

  She reached for my hand. “I understand you organized this charitable donation, Senhorita Stone. Thank you, and welcome to Casa Pia. I’m the assistant director, Benedita Medeiros.”

  I shook her hand. “Thank you for permitting us to bring the children gifts. The rest of the officers are outside unloading boxes. Would it upset the children if they came inside? Some of them are wearing their uniforms.”

  She smiled. “I think it would be good for our children to see the officers doing such a kind thing. Please encourage them to bring the boxes inside.”

  “There are additional officers en route to the other campuses. They should arrive shortly,” Rafael informed Senhora Medeiros. The Casa Pia Orphanage housed children on ten different campuses, which were scattered throughout the city.

  I handed her my cheat sheet when Rafael stepped outside to help carry boxes. “We have color coded the gifts so it will be easier for you to distribute them. The gifts wrapped in green and gold are for the fourteen to eighteen year olds. The gifts wrapped in blue are for the nine to thirteen year olds. The gifts wrapped in red are for children between the ages of four and eight, and the gifts wrapped in white and gold are for the infant to three year olds.”

  “Senhorita Stone is extremely organized,” Chief D’Souza opined from somewhere behind me. He set his box on a wooden pew before clasping Senhora Medeiros’s hand. “It’s nice to see you again, Senhora Medeiros. I would like to make this an annual event, with your consent.” I suspected he was speaking in English for my benefit.

  Her eyes widened when twelve other officers poured into the lobby. Each of the officers was balancing two or three boxes filled with gifts. “That would be wonderful. The children at Casa Pia receive so few gifts.”

  Benjamim and Eva stepped inside the lobby. They were joined by a number of people carrying large pastry bags. “Feliz Natal,” Eva greeted cheerily.

  Senhora Medeiros’s eyes misted over. “Please you must join us for Consoada and Missa do Galo.”

  Rafael tucked me against his chest. “Consoada is a traditional Christmas dinner, which is served on Christmas Eve. I think you’d like it.”

  “We’d love to join you,” Eva answered.

  �
��As would I,” Chief D’Souza replied.

  Rafael glanced at me.

  I nodded. “We would too. Thank you for inviting us.”

  Some of the officers had to work. Others were expected to join their families at home, but three additional officers stayed behind to celebrate Christmas Eve with us. We stored the gifts inside the office adjoining the lobby until the children were called to the main dining hall for dinner. When Senhora Medeiros gave the signal, we carried the presents to the recreation room so we could stack them around the Christmas tree. A nativity scene was sitting next to the tree, but the baby Jesus was missing. I thought it odd, but I was so busy unpacking the gifts I forgot to ask about it.

  We joined the children in the main dining hall as soon as we finished moving the gifts. We set a Bolo Rei in the center of each table before claiming our seats. Each of us was offered a plate filled with codfish, cabbage, hard boiled eggs, and boiled potatoes served with garlic sauce. Eva, Chief D’Souza, and the other officers shared some of their family traditions while we ate.

  “What is Missa do Galo?” I finally asked.

  “Missa do Galo is a special Christmas Eve service which is held just before midnight,” Rafael explained.

  My eyes widened. I hadn’t realized it was going to be such a long night. Chief D’Souza pulled Rafael into another conversation. Eva was talking to Benjamim, so I sat back and observed the children.

  The Casa Pia Orphanage was quite different from the orphanage I visited in Ukraine. The children seemed happier and healthier here, but there were a lot more children over all. The number of children in this facility was astonishing, and there were at least nine other campuses housing orphaned children in Lisbon. I wondered why so many children were being abandoned by their families in Portugal. The people living in Lisbon seemed far wealthier than those living in Simferopol. I reflected back on the decaying housing projects I’d seen on the outskirts of town when we drove to Sintra. Clearly, there was poverty here. Perhaps they were just better at hiding it.

  I studied the staff. They were firm but kind toward the children. I wondered whether anyone who assisted the pedophiles in accessing these children was still working here. I couldn’t fathom how someone who’d been entrusted to care for these children could allow such a horrible thing to happen. I prayed the PSP would be able to identify and arrest every last person involved in that heinous crime.

  I turned around when I felt something brush against my back. A little boy, somewhere around the age of five, had his hand in my hair. I crooked my arm over my chair and smiled. “Olá.”

  “Olá,” he repeated with a shy smile. He couldn’t seem to take his eyes off my hair.

  “Falas inglês?” I inquired hopefully.

  He shook his head. “Não.”

  Rafael turned and asked the boy a question in Portuguese.

  The boy asked his own question while pointing at me.

  “Sim. Eu acho que ela é,” Rafael replied.

  “What?” I’d been working to improve my understanding of the language, but I hadn’t a clue what either of them said.

  Rafael grinned. “He asked if you were an angel. I told him, ‘Yes. I think she is.’”

  The boy gaped at me before sprinting toward his friends. One of the staff members issued a sharp command. He slowed to a brisk walk while glancing worriedly at me.

  Rafael laughed. He accepted a bowl of rice pudding from a young girl distributing dessert. “Obrigado.”

  “Obrigada,” I repeated when she offered me a bowl.

  “Você é bem-vindo.” She adjusted her tray and handed a bowl to the officer sitting next to me.

  The cinnamon laced pudding was surprisingly good. “Are we staying for the midnight mass?”

  “You might enjoy the service here more than the one at the Igreja de Sta Maria,” Rafael said, his head crooked thoughtfully.

  I nodded my agreement.

  “Will you be staying for the Missa do Galo?” Benjamim inquired from across the table.

  “Yes,” Rafael and I replied as one.

  Benjamim laughed.

  Rafael and the other officers sliced the Bolo Rei. Eva, Benjamim, and I helped distribute the cake. Excited squeals and audible groans sounded when the children cut into their cake. A few of the children held tiny objects in the air for all to see.

  “The Bolo Rei holds two objects,” Rafael explained, “a large bean and a small gift. The person whose slice includes the gift gets to keep the gift. The person whose slice includes the bean is supposed to purchase the Bolo Rei next Christmas.”

  “No way!” I exclaimed. “That sounds just like the King Cakes we serve for Mardi Gras in the United States, only the King Cake contains a plastic baby that is meant to signify the baby Jesus. The person who finds the baby Jesus is considered lucky, but he also has to buy the cake the following year.”

  Rafael smiled. “Maybe our traditions aren’t so different after all.”

  We returned to our table once the children and staff were served. I was anxious to try the Bolo Rei. “Obrigada,” I purred when a staff member delivered coffee.

  Senhora Medeiros educated us about their program while the children prepared for church. We toured the campus while we waited for the service to begin.

  We joined the children in the sanctuary shortly before midnight. There were no frescoes or stained glass windows adorning this building. Stone walls, arched windows, wooden pews, and kneelers defined this church. A large crucifix hung at the front of the church. Hundreds of votive candles were lit along the altar, at the base of the statues of the Virgin Mary and the saints, and upon the window sills. The candles bathed the dark, cavernous sanctuary in a soft, warm light. Heated wax and frankincense scented the musky air.

  Rafael translated the sermon as best he could without appearing rude. For the most part, the service was structured the same as the Christmas Eve masses I’d attended in the United States, but that changed after communion.

  After communion, the priest lifted a swaddled doll from the manger that had been sitting in front of the altar. Everyone lined up to kiss the doll. I didn’t want to kiss the doll, but I relented because I didn’t want to offend anyone. While they sang worship songs, I calculated how many of us would end up with the flu. With hundreds of people sharing the same wine goblet and kissing the same doll smack dab in the middle of cold and flu season, it was bound to happen.

  The service was fascinating. I truly enjoyed praying while kneeling; it helped me stay focused. The music was nice, even if I couldn’t sing along, and I loved the benediction at the end; but that wasn’t the best part. The best part was celebrating Christmas with all those children. That was truly awesome.

  Senhora Medeiros invited us to see the children open their gifts. Miraculously, the swaddled doll beat us to the recreation room. He was, in fact, the baby Jesus who had been missing from the nativity set. Rafael explained that the children in Portugal do not receive their gifts until baby Jesus appears in the manger. No one knows how he gets from the churches where the masses are held into the homes where the children live. I liked the fact that their Christmas gifts were tied directly to Jesus.

  I curled up next to Rafael. We were sitting on the floor since there weren’t a lot of chairs to be had. There wasn’t a dry eye to be counted among the grownups when the children opened their gifts. They couldn’t comprehend owning their own books. They tried giving the books to the staff, assuming they were for the library. While they were encouraged to share, they were also encouraged to record their names inside the books. Only then would they trust the books truly belong to them. I’d never seen a child prize a book so much.

  We laughed when they opened the board games. They were beyond ecstatic. The younger children shoved their games toward the older kids, demanding to be taught how to play. The older kids turned to the adults for help. Before long, we were all sprawled out on the floor playing board games.

  We didn’t leave until three o’clock in the morning. I hu
gged Rafael long and hard when we got to his car. “That was, hands down, the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

  “Me too,” he whispered.

  “Our first Christmas together,” I noted with some surprise.

  “Our first Christmas,” he marveled. “Feliz Natal.”

  * * * * *

  “What’s this?” Rafael asked.

  “A present.” I’d woken up early so I could make him breakfast in bed. Only he wasn’t in bed. He was standing in front of the breakfast bar eying the gift sitting on the breakfast tray next to his eggs.

  “But you said you didn’t want to exchange gifts.” He plucked the coffee cup off the tray.

  My hands fisted on my hips. “Would you get back in bed? I didn’t wake up early so you could eat in the kitchen.”

  He hid a smile behind his coffee cup before sauntering into the bedroom.

  I followed with the tray. “You gave me your mother’s pearls, and you purchased books for more than four thousand children at my request. I think I’m entitled to buy you a gift.”

  He set his coffee cup on the nightstand before climbing back into bed. “Can I open it now?”

  I set the tray on his lap, retrieved my tray, and climbed in next to him. “Sure, why not?”

  Rafael ripped the green and silver foil from the box. His eyes widened when he lifted the lid.

  I pulled the gray leather bracelet from the box. “I know you don’t typically wear jewelry, but I thought this was masculine and casual enough that you might like it.” I showed him the inscription on the back of the silver medallion.

  He smiled. “Mine.”

  I wrapped the leather strap around his wrist three times before cinching the clasp. “You’re always telling me I’m yours. I thought it was about time you heard you were mine.”

  “It’s perfect. Thank you.” He dropped a quick kiss on my lips before opening the nightstand. “I have a gift for you.”

  “So much for not exchanging gifts,” I laughed.

  “Merry Christmas, love.” He handed me a small wooden box.