The Working Elf Blues Read Free

understood, and when Santa had stopped to deliver presents at a small, dingy house, something had called Garnet to the room at the end of the narrow hall. There, curled up on his side, lay a dark-haired boy a few years younger than Garnet's eleven. His sorrowful brown eyes tugged at something in Garnet's chest, and he'd felt it then—a kinship, a bond. He'd known somehow that Wes was there because his parents had died. Garnet himself had just lost his mother a few months before. Later, he found out that was Wes's first foster home.
    Wes hadn't spoken. Neither had Garnet. He simply sat there and held Wes's hand, until Wes finally fell asleep with tears staining his cheeks. Garnet held on even then, when Wes's fingers went limp in his own, keeping his silent vigil as night passed slow and long. He hung on until dawn, when Santa suddenly appeared behind him.
    "It's time to go home, son," Santa had said.
    Garnet realized then that Santa had known where he was the whole time. He'd simply been allowed to remain while Santa finished his deliveries.
    Regretfully, Garnet had untangled his fingers from Wes's and taken Santa's hand. In a flash, they were gone, back in the North Pole. A world away from Wes. But Garnet never forgot, and every five years since, he'd found a way to sneak back, to see Wes again, even for a few minutes. To watch him grow into a man. A man with those same sorrowful eyes that melted Garnet's heart.
    This time, no matter what, Garnet was determined to stay.

Chapter Two
    Garnet woke to the smell of frying bacon and strong coffee. He dragged himself out of bed and into the bathroom, his body slow with unfamiliar aches. His chest still felt tight, but the throb in his temples had eased, a small blessing.
    After quickly washing his face and brushing his teeth with the new toothbrush and paste he found on the bathroom sink, he left the room in search of Wes. Four eager dogs greeted him in the hall, and one in particular—Micah, he recognized from the night before—stuck close to his heels as he made his way to the kitchen.
    Wes turned from the stove at the sound of their approach, a pair of tongs in his hand. "Morning," he said. "Merry Christmas. How are you feeling?"
    Garnet blinked. "M-Merry Christmas," he stammered. Holy juniper, how could he have forgotten it was Christmas? Where had the gift he'd brought for Wes gone? Oh, right. Probably with the remains of his sleigh, wherever that was. If it had even survived the crash.
    Garnet's shoulders slumped. How had everything gone so wrong so fast? It was sheer luck he was standing here in Wes's cabin right now instead of a frozen elf-cicle in the snow somewhere. Some Christmas surprise this had turned out to be.
    Wes's voice cut into his thoughts. "Are you all right?"
    Garnet looked up and straightened his back. "I'm feeling better, yes. Thank you for taking care of me. I should never have done something so foolish. He's going to be furious when he finds out."
    "He?" Wes asked, before turning back to the stove. He flipped the bacon in the pan and set the tongs aside. "I hope you're okay with scrambled eggs. I can cook, but I don't make anything too fancy."
    "Eggs would be lovely, thank you." Garnet hesitated. "And, yes, he. Santa."
    Wes's shoulders went rigid. He faced Garnet again, his mouth a thin line. "Santa? That's carrying things a little too far, don't you think?"
    "What do you mean?"
    "The costume last night. The ears." Wes gestured sharply toward Garnet's head. "The vanishing act you pulled the last two times I've seen you."
    Garnet gasped, his hands flying up to feel the tips of his ears, exposed to Wes for the first time. Oh, by Santa's boots, he'd forgotten that Wes had never seen him this way. He'd always been so careful to keep them hidden before. Now, when it really mattered, Wes had seen them before he could explain.
    Garnet could've smacked himself. He was doing this all wrong. Everything was wrong.
    "I'm s-sorry." Garnet dropped his hands back to