prepares the evening's I-don't-know-what dose, my eyes look up to the tilting window and fix on the Watsons' house, my neighbors, a few meters away from me. In her front yard, there is a small tree adorned with fairy lights and Christmas ornaments. On the doors, fences and roof gables, little lights twinkle cheerfully. On the chimney, a Santa Claus with a sack of toys tries to invade the place; on the front door, a beautiful wreath. What caught my attention, however, was the shrill and happy cry of the little seven-year-old girl, Lois. All bundled up in a heavy coat, gloves, hat and scarf, she is with her father now, helping him finish a snowman. Her mother-a pretty woman in her forties who works at a rehabilitation clinic in the city center-comes out carrying steaming mugs of what I assume are hot chocolate. The woman hands each one a mug, a beautiful smile on her face that shows she is happy about the moment. Her husband sits next to her on the top step of the porch and the two engage in intimate and animated conversation while their daughter finishes her snowman, taking small sips of the chocolate every now and then. The lights flicker overhead, and Christmas music plays from inside. The image in front of me tightens my chest a little for all the wrong reasons, so I quickly pour myself some coffee and head back to my office. I manage to concentrate on my work for another hour or so before a strange noise catches my attention. I stop typing on my laptop-the keys sound like jackhammers in the silence of the night-and listen carefully. From here, I can hear cautious footsteps on the wood of my porch. My whole body goes cold. My city doesn't have a high crime rate; I've never had a problem with violence or theft in all the thirty-six years I've lived here, but you never know when it will be the first time. I strain my memory, trying to remember if I locked the door with all the locks, but I'm not sure. I've been too absorbed in these files to remember clearly. Anyway, I have an alarm system and a baseball bat that might help. I would have a gun, but I've never gotten around to getting another one. Katherine was a staunch disarmament advocate and convinced me never to keep one in the house. I got rid of the only one I had when we got married and now I feel unprotected without one. But I don't think it would solve anything either. If I'm listening correctly, there are two of them, and if each of them is carrying a gun, it would be two against one. Three against none if they could overpower me and take the object from me. I push the thoughts out of my head and stand up carefully, still listening for the sound outside. I think I hear a baby's mumble, a small voice and a soft shh. I'm about to grab the baseball bat when my doorbell rings. I freeze in place, I don't know if I'm relieved or alert. Burglars don't ring the doorbell, but it could be a trap. I twist the handle of the bat and go into the living room. I squeeze the wood around my fingers and check the other side through the peephole. To my relief, it's a woman, who now has her back to me. I leave the bat behind the door and open it. Only then do I notice that she is accompanied by a small girl, maybe four years old, who was in a blind spot, and a baby curled up in her arms. She carries a few bags hanging from her shoulders, her cheekbones and the tip of her nose are red from the freezing temperatures, and her clothes, gloves, and hat are speckled with snow. "Hi," she says, her voice a little weak. She clears her throat and shakes the hand of the girl next to her, all wrapped up in a coat and blanket, her little chin trembling from the cold. "Sorry to bother you at this hour. My car broke down a few miles from here, I don't know what happened. I need help." I look over her shoulder toward the dark street. This area is far from the busy city center, far from the urban madness, but I know there are other homes in the area. "Your house was the first one I found with someone in it for miles. All the previous ones were empty or no one wanted to help me." I nod, my eyes still fixed on her back. "People usually travel this time of year," I say, looking back at her. "And it's late. I'm not surprised some of them chose not to see you."
Chapter 1 her eyes with sleep
She shifts her weight and nods, looking nervous. "Could you help me?" she asks, holding the baby against her chest. He starts to mumble, and the woman tries to calm him down by shaking him slowly. "I just need shelter until tomorrow morning. Then I'll find a way to go to town and solve my problem." "Don't you have someone I can call?" I swallow hard and look away at the little girl clinging to the hem of her coat. She has big blue eyes that look at me in fear. I look back at her, her lips parted, a confused expression on her face.
I guess she didn't expect me to refuse shelter to a woman with two children under the snow. She gives a nervous laugh. "No." She sighs. "I mean, kind of." She looks away for a second. - I forgot my cell phone at home, on the table, as soon as I left. My ex-husband is on a plane right now, going to spend Christmas in Spain with his wife of twenty-two years, who he left me for. My parents are in a place with no signal, waiting for me for the holidays. I clench my jaw, not knowing what to do. I look at the Watsons' house next door and wonder why she didn't knock there. - Look, we're not going to bother you, okay? We just need some shelter for the night. It's cold and snowing out here, my car was two miles behind, and I have two children who are going into hypothermia and starving to death. Please don't be so cruel. I close my eyes and huff, opening the door wider. - Come in, I'll get you some things to get settled in. Squeezing the girl's hand, she carefully enters. The baby in her arms - I still don't know if it's a boy or another girl - starts to cry. The woman tries hard to calm him down as she follows me into the house. I lead them upstairs to my bedroom and open the door. She looks at me with doubt and surprise in her brown eyes. "Take a shower and change your clothes." My eyes go down to the bags hanging from her shoulder and I assume she has clean, dry clothes. "I'm going to light the fireplace in the living room and make some hot chocolate." The little girl still clinging to the hem of her coat catches her attention by pulling on it. She crouches down to the girl's height, who whispers something in her ear. The woman gives me a brief smile and waves. I'm curious, but I decide not to say anything. I go into the bedroom and explain where she can find soap and towels in the bathroom cabinets. "I really appreciate it..." She turns to me, standing in the middle of the room. Her lips part and only now do I realize that we haven't even introduced ourselves. "Altman. Hans Altman." She waves. - I can't thank you enough, Altman. - The woman looks around again, as if I'm offering more than she expected. - Thanks again. I nod briefly. - The left faucet is for hot water - I instruct her before leaving her alone with the children. I close the bedroom door to give her more privacy and go to the garage to get some dry wood to light the fireplace. While the wood crackles, I make three mugs of hot chocolate, trying not to think too much about having a stranger with two children in my room. Then I also realize that she didn't give me a name. I stare at the landline phone on a pillar in the kitchen, debating whether or not to call the police. Surely a police officer could help her better than I could. I push the thoughts out of my head and look up at the Watsons' house. The little lights continue to blink on the gables of the roof, on the porch fence, on the tree in the backyard and, from what I can see through the thin curtain on the glass window, on the dining room too. A little cry behind me makes me turn around immediately. I find them a few meters away from me, both with wet hair, changed clothes, the girl still clinging to her mother as if she would escape at any moment. Only then do I realize that I don't know what to give the baby, who is now wrapped in another blanket. I grab two mugs of hot chocolate and hand them to them. The little girl grabs the cup with both hands and looks at me over the rim, I think she's a little intimidated by me, and the older one leaves hers on the counter. The little girl looks around, as if looking for a place to sit. A little hesitantly, I approach her and place her on one of the stools-too high for her to reach. Her blue eyes stick to me for a second too long. "I don't know what to make for your baby," I say sincerely, turning to the stranger. "I have a bottle here," she answers and shows me the aforementioned object that was hidden between her chest and the child. "I just need to warm it up." I understand her implicit request and nod. I take the bottle and put it in the microwave. She tells me to wait a minute and I set the desired time. I keep my back to them, trying to deal with this strange moment that has hung over us. "My name is Becky." I turn to her. "Becky Hayes." She strokes the blond hair of the girl next to her. "This is Lora." The girl looks at me intently, her big blue eyes on me, her small lips on the rim of her mug of hot chocolate. "This is Archie." Becky unwraps the little one from his blanket and turns him to face me. The boy looks about ten months old, maybe younger, with thin, yellow hair, big blue eyes, long eyelashes and full lips. "Okay." That's all I say as I swallow hard. "Um... I'll get the living room ready for you guys to sleep. My guest room only has a single bed and I think it will be uncomfortable for you to share." "We'll make ourselves comfortable." I shake my head no. - I have a sofa bed. They'll be better off on it. The microwave behind me beeps, letting me know that time is up. I hand the bottle to Becky, who finally settles down on one of the stools next to Lora. She tests the temperature of the milk before cradling Archie in her arms and handing him his object of desire. The boy is desperate for his food and only calms down when he holds the bottle and sucks on the nipple with all his strength. While the little one drinks the milk, his mother finally pulls out her mug of hot chocolate. I offer a quick smile before leaving the kitchen and going to prepare the place for them to sleep. I arrange pillows, sheets, and blankets and spread them all out on the sofa bed in front of the fireplace. I'm finishing setting up when Becky appears. Archie is asleep in her arms, Lora is clinging to her bar, as always, and now she's rubbing her eyes with sleep. "They're exhausted," she whispers and points to her children. "It was a long trip to get here and then we faced cold, snow, and miles of walking." "Rest," I say, giving her space to settle her children. Becky gives me a weak smile before settling little Archie first. The boy is slumped over, already fast asleep, and I can't take my eyes off her, as she cares for him with affection and dedication. Then, she helps Lora settle next to her little brother. I barely notice that I smile when I see her hugging the little boy's body and
Chapter 1 her eyes with sleep
24/09/2024
Chapter 2 information and studies
24/09/2024
Chapter 3 through the drive
24/09/2024
Chapter 4 Mommy sighs and nods
24/09/2024
Chapter 5 pure satisfaction
24/09/2024
Chapter 6 I look for Becky
24/09/2024
Chapter 7 it's perfect
24/09/2024
Chapter 8 Not that long ago
24/09/2024
Chapter 9 I don't know
24/09/2024
Chapter 10 experienced before
24/09/2024
Chapter 11 the courage to say
24/09/2024
Chapter 12 telling me everything
24/09/2024
Chapter 13 just wants to play
24/09/2024
Chapter 14 the table next to her
24/09/2024
Chapter 15 I am close to her pussy
24/09/2024
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