Thirty-One Days and Legos

by S. A. Stovall

  Luke glares at his younger brother, his entire demeanor shifting to anger. With clenched fists he shouts, “Look what you’ve done, Edmund. I told you this would happen! You’re ruining everything!”

  His shouting, understandably, upsets Edmund further. The younger boy bursts into hysterical sobs, his whole face wet with tears. I get nervous and anxious with a child this upset, but Owen swoops in and gives the kid a hug. With little effort, he picks Edmund up and holds him tight.

  “Nothing is ruined,” he says to Luke. “Carter, let’s head back to the truck.”

  Luke shakes his head and runs off toward the crowd—the complete opposite of the way to the truck. I try to stop him, but the scrawny kid evades my grasp.

  “I’ll go after him,” I say to Owen. “You take Edmund.”

  Yeah, just what caroling needed. A chase scene.

  I run after Luke and catch up to him fairly quick. A morning doesn’t go by that I don’t train or exercise. It’s all part of being a park ranger. Even the snow offers little trouble. My footing has grown accustomed over the years.

  “What’re you doing?” I say as I grab his shoulder, pulling him back.

  Luke comes to a stop, his face just as red and soaked with tears as his younger brother.

  Yeah, another perfect element to caroling. Family problems out for the world to see.

  We’re far enough away from the crowds that I doubt any of them are listening, but still. I’m not into showcasing my personal problems, and Luke and Edmund don’t deserve to be shown around when they’re under a lot of stress.

  “Send us back to the foster system,” he says through straggled breaths. “I want to go back.”

  It hurts to hear him say that. I grab at my jacket, at a loss for words. “Why?” is all I can muster.

  “I-I don’t want… I don’t want to go through it again.”

  “Let’s go back to the truck. We can talk about it at home.”

  “No! You don’t understand. I don’t want to go back. I don’t—I don’t want to go there and then hear you don’t want us anymore.”

  “What?” I balk. “What’re you talking about?”

  “You hate us,” Luke says, jerking his head to the side and glaring at the snow. “Y-you’re going to send us away be-because… because we’re problems. That’s what everyone does.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “That’s what our dad did!”

  Again, I find myself in a verbal minefield. What do I say to that? What do I say to him to let him know that’s not what’s on my mind? Where’s Owen when I need him?

  “You’re upset all the time,” Luke says, his tears coming without many sobs, like he’s past the point of being upset and fallen deep into sorrow. “You hate Edmund’s cat. You don’t get to work with your h-husband anymore. I’m… I’m a failure that’s costing you money… because I’m not good at school and….”

  He loses his voice.

  Damn. This is my fault. The parenting classes even warned me about stress—not to put it out in front of the kids, to contain my anger—and now look what I’ve done.

  “All the other foster homes sent us away,” Luke whispers. “Because we were too much trouble. Edmund brought home a cat at another home too. That’s when they thought he was too much trouble. Another family didn’t want to deal with… my schooling. I just… I don’t want to go through that with you and Owen. Not with you two….”

  What am I to say? Words can’t do it justice.

  I grab Luke and pull him into an embrace. The kid doesn’t fight it, and I squeeze him tight. He presses his face into my jacket, and I can feel his convulsions as he sobs, but I don’t care. I also don’t care if the others watch or if they think I’m an awful parent or if the whole world assumes I’ve done something terrible. Luke needs someone and that someone has to be me.

  I place my gloved hand on top of his head, not saying a word.

  Through the wind and chill, I shield Luke, waiting until he calms down. When he finally stops shaking, I pat his beanie. A few more moments, and he relaxes a bit, no longer a ball of frustrations.

  “I’m sorry,” I say.

  Luke stares up at me.

  “I never should’ve been so—” I struggle to find the right word. “—heartless. I should’ve been more supportive. And more vocal about, well, my dedication to being a parent.”

  Luke says nothing.

  “I should know more than anyone what you two are going through.”

  “Why?” he asks.

  “My mother died when I was ten. Lung cancer. My father was already a religious guy, with strict principles, but he was never the same afterward. Everything was harsher. No fun allowed. He prayed to a picture of my mother every night before bed. I know that sometimes people change and that it’s hard to understand why.”

  I’ve only ever told Owen about my mother and how her death affected my father. I don’t like talking about my home life, not with anyone. But Luke should know he’s not the only one to experience a family member rocked over another’s death.

  “Is he still around?” Luke asks.

  “He passed away. Heart failure.”

  I don’t know if the information helps Luke, but his eyes shift down to my jacket, vacant, as though he’s contemplating our conversation with a seriousness that wasn’t there before.

  “We’re not going to send you away because you have problems,” I say. “Everyone has problems. I knew it before you arrived, and I shouldn’t have given you a reason to doubt. It’s not about me—it’s about you. I want what’s best for you.”

  “Edmund and I can stay?”

  “For as long as you can put up with my callous behavior,” I quip.

  He actually chuckles at the comment. “And Legos? She can stay too?”

  I let out a long sigh. “Yes. And Legos. She’s… part of the family now.” Such a painful statement. But that’s what I signed up for.

  “You really don’t hate us?”

  “The only person I hate is myself—and that’s for ever giving you the impression I hated you.”

  Luke says nothing. The tip of my nose burns with each frigid inhale.

  “Let’s go back to the truck,” I say. “We can go home and relax. Tomorrow things will look better.”

  “All right. That’s sounds good.”

  OWEN SIDLES up close to me as I rest back on the couch.

  “Your turn, Edmund,” Owen says.

  The little tyke rolls the dice and then moves his Monopoly reindeer piece the appropriate amount of spaces. Then it shifts to my turn, and I roll, amused that the dice are both red and green. How many Monopoly versions are there? Owen said they even had a Thanksgiving set, but I’m still in awe that a Christmas version exists. It’s Monopoly. One version is enough.

  “Are you tired yet?” I ask, giving Edmund the once-over.

  “Nope,” he says as he collects some money. “I’m too excited.”

  Owen wraps his arms around one of mine. “It’s almost Christmas, Carter.” He points to the clock. 11:35 p.m. “Can you believe it? Our first Christmas as a family!”

  I yawn. “Yeah. But Santa’s not going to show up if everyone’s awake.”

  Edmund shakes his head. “No. He’ll show up. He’s a good guy.”

  Luke moves his candy-cane piece around the board. Once finished, he looks up at me and Owen, with an odd look on his young face. “Hey, uh… do you mind if I give you both your Christmas gift early? I don’t want to wrap it because I don’t want to ruin it.”

  “You got us a gift?” Owen asks, genuine surprise in his voice. “I love Christmas gifts! Let’s see it!”

  Luke hops away from the kitchen table and runs into his room.

  While he’s away, I pet Legos. She sits, curled in a tight ball, right in front of me—right on top of my paper money. That’s Legos. She does what she wants.

  Luke returns a moment later, a piece of paper in his hand. He hands it to me, and I glance down at the drawing
. I hold my breath, stunned at the level of craftsmanship put into the piece.

  It’s me and Owen, standing at the edge of the picnic stop that overlooks Kabetogama Lake. The vibrant oranges, reds, and purples—the perfect blend at sunset. It’s like he caught a photo of the place and translated it into fantastic strokes of a colored pencil.

  “I wanted to give you a photo of the two things you love the most,” Luke says to me. “Nature and Owen.”

  Owen smiles wide, and I can tell he’s getting a little choked up. I can’t hold back a smile. It’s a good picture. A damn good picture. The kid has talent I didn’t even know existed. He’ll be famous one day, if he wants.

  “Thank you,” I say once I have control over my voice.

  Owen nods. “It’s one of the best gifts I’ve ever seen. Okay,” Owen adds as he stands. “If we’re all giving out wonderful and perfect gifts, I have something for everyone.”

  “Seriously?” I ask. “It’s not even Christmas.”

  “It’s a whole month of Christmas,” Edmund says matter-of-factly. “I think it’s okay if we open presents.”

  Luke nods. “Yeah.”

  Owen jogs to the master bedroom and returns a few seconds later carrying a single piece of paper. Did he draw something too?

  He hands it over. It’s a picture of a house—a house for sale.

  “I talked with Maggie over at the bank,” he says with the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. “I know I went behind your back, Carter, but she helped me through everything and…. It’s three bedrooms, three baths, and right next to Edmund’s elementary school.”

  “We would get our own rooms?” Luke asks.

  Edmund squeals in delight.

  I look over the picture, examining the shabby roof and busted door. “The place looks like a fixer-upper.”

  “Yeah,” Owen says, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought you’d like that better. Plus, it’s cheaper.”

  Heh. I do like fixing things. How does Owen always know the best darn answer?

  I toss the paper onto the table. “Well, as long as we install a little cat door, I think it’s the best Christmas gift that anyone could have given anyone this year.”

  Both the boys jump up and down, excitement flowing through their blood with each heartbeat. I don’t blame them. I’m pretty excited as well. Damn Owen for always coming through on Christmas. The man is going to make me a believer of miracles.

  Then everyone stops celebrating and turns to me with expectant eyes.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Well?” Owen asks. “Don’t you have a gift you want to give out?”

  Edmund and Luke wait patiently. I glance back down at the glorious picture of the lake, and my resolve breaks.

  “Well, I was planning on putting them under the tree tonight,” I say, everyone holding their breath. “But I guess I can tell you.”

  “What is it?” Edmund asks, scooting up close on the table, his eyes as big as quarters.

  I sigh. “I got a TV and video game… thing.”

  “Really?” both Edmund and Luke shout in unison.

  “Calm down,” I snap. “It’s nothing special. A normal TV. One video game system, or whatever you call it.”

  “A PlayStation?” Edmund asks with a gasp.

  “Yes. I think.”

  “Ohmygosh!”

  “And a game called Lego Batman.”

  I swear Edmund’s heart practically stops. Luke laughs, and I give him a sideways glance.

  “I can just imagine you in a video game store,” he says with a snort and another loud laugh. “That would have been a better Christmas gift!”

  Owen nods. “Yeah. I would pay money to watch Carter attempt to talk to the clerk about video games.”

  “Ha ha, you guys,” I say with a grin. “I get it. I don’t know what I’m doing.”

  Without warning, Luke and Edmund rush around the table and hug me. I tense up, unaccustomed to blatant shows of affection, but I loosen a bit when Owen comes to complete the family embrace.

  “Merry Christmas, everyone,” Owen says.

  I glance at the clock. 12:02 a.m.

  “Merry Christmas,” I say, enjoying the warmth.

  Best damn month of Christmas a man could ever have.

  More from S.A. Stovall

  Federal park ranger Carter Williams dislikes kids almost as much as he dislikes Christmas. He chose his career to escape human contact, not embrace it. And no matter how much his husband Owen tries to sway his opinion, Carter is a grump who would rather ignore the holiday. Owen’s efforts are put on hold, however, when they get a call about six missing foster kids lost in the park.

  Christmas Eve takes a turn for the worse when Owen injures himself rescuing the children. Stranded in a snowstorm until dawn, Carter has to keep Owen awake and healthy while simultaneously watching six runaways. What he thinks is a nightmare come to life is actually a beautiful gift in disguise—the kids transform the ranger station into a Christmas wonderland. And before it’s all said and done, they might transform Carter’s heart as well—if he can keep his bah humbug attitude in check.

  Former soldier Hugh Harris is a “hāfu”—half-Japanese, half-American—and, after his father’s death, he returns to Kobe, Japan, in order to connect with his mother and her family. Confused and feeling out of place, Hugh finds work as a waiter at an upscale nightclub. The other employees, an odd and eclectic bunch, quickly make him feel at home, especially the bartender, Ren, and the club host, Kaito.

  But the tranquility doesn’t last forever. As Hugh gets deeper into his relationships with both men, he finds they may have dubious connections with the yakuza in town… and when the local street leaders send their enforcers to the Dusk Parlor, Hugh, Ren, and Kaito may be in for a storm of trouble.

  S.A. STOVALL grew up in California’s central valley with a single mother and little brother. Despite no one in her family having a degree higher than a GED, she put herself through college (earning a BA in History), and then continued on to law school where she obtained her Juris Doctorate.

  As a child, Stovall’s favorite novel was Island of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O’Dell. The adventure on a deserted island opened her mind to ideas and realities she had never given thought before—and it was the moment Stovall realized that storytelling (specifically fiction) became her passion. Anything that told a story, be it a movie, book, video game, or comic, she had to experience. Now as a professor and author, Stovall wants to add her voice to the myriad of stories in the world, and she hopes you enjoy.

  You can contact her at the following addresses:

  Twitter: @GameOverStation

  Email: s.adelle.s@gmail.com

  By S.A. Stovall

  The Dusk Parlor

  RANGER STATION HAVEN CHRISTMAS

  Ranger Station Haven

  Thirty-One Days and Legos

  Published by DREAMSPINNER PRESS

  www.dreamspinnerpress.com

  Published by

  DREAMSPINNER PRESS

  5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA

  www.dreamspinnerpress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Thirty-One Days and Legos

  © 2017 S.A. Stovall.

  Cover Art

  © 2017 Adrian Nicholas.

  adrian.nicholas177@gmail.com

  Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may
be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or www.dreamspinnerpress.com.

  Digital ISBN: 978-1-64080-265-0

  Published December 2017

  v. 1.0

  Printed in the United States of America