A Christmas Miracle

By Anna del C. Dye

For a girl of twenty, Angieline is uncommonly wise. Perhaps losing her mother at five years old, shaped her this way. Though, the presence of her forty-three-year-old tutor and the secrets they share could be closer to the truth. She and Mario, her tutor/adopted father, have been in many towns in the USA. Though their strange deeds could make them targets for unscrupulous people, they keep going even if it leads to the end to their undertakings.
When James, the reporter, appears in their lives, right before Christmas, their secrets become hard to keep and their lies threaten to catch up with them. Torn between duty and love, she will have to make peace with her heart one way or the other. Though her choice could break not only her and his heart but, the heart of her tutor or the children's orphanage that desperately needs a miracle for Christmas.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anna del C. Dye
• Release date: Nov 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370147762

Anna del C. Dye

Anna was born in the extreme South along some famous beaches. She grew up with four other siblings being placed in the middle. Her mother died when she was six and she found a new mother in her husband’s mother and loves her dearly. She accredits her mother-in-law with teaching her many things in life.The green eyed, brown haired author moved north to marry her husband Rodney and has resided in Utah since then. Her husband, a native of Idaho, met her in her hometown. They fell in love and she came to Utah on Christmas Eve to be married two weeks later. They are the parents of three princes and a princess.Early on in her life she showed an affinity for sewing and took classes that rewarded her with the opportunities of doing costuming for the cast of four musicals, which she enjoyed immensely. She is fluent in both English and Spanish and understands some Portuguese.Some of Anna’s writing recognitions:She received the Editor’s Choice Award from the International Library of Poetry and had her article entitled A New American Mother published by Desert Saints Magazine. Her short story entitled Amerine—Fairy Princess wan an award in the Oquirrh chapter contest and was published by Kalkion Magazine. Other articles about family and relationship have been published frequently in the MOMS CLUB® of Salt Lake Valley-West.

Book preview

Chapter One

A New Assignment

I hope we will find something for our purpose here and soon, Mario Tuzzini exclaimed. He sat across from his ward, Angieline Tuzzini, a cup of coffee in his hand.

My eyes and ears haven’t picked up anything yet. Angie shrugged her shoulders from the side of the table where she enjoyed scrambled eggs.

The longer we stay, the longer people will have to recognize us. That will make it easier to find us in the future, Mario told her.

Angie was enjoying a hot chocolate on this cold morning, in the bed and breakfast where they rented a room. What do you expect? Everywhere we pull one of our schemes it is bound to make people think of us. It’s not like we keep low profiles during our ‘work’.

I would prefer that they didn’t get so close to us, he insisted. We will be hunted if people get into our business, and we won’t be able to do any of this anymore.

I’ve been with you for twelve years and you still think of me as a little girl. She frowned.

I suppose that at twenty, you are a grown woman, Mario conceded.

For a girl of twenty, she was uncommonly wise, perhaps losing her mother when she was quite young had shaped her into what she was now, a quiet, caring, intelligent young woman. But, the presence of Mario in her early life could also be a reason.

And I would have to say that you are right. Now let me do my job and quit treating me like a baby.

All right…I get it. What are you planning for us today? Mario queried with a glance into her green eyes.

I will look into our project, Angie answered with her hot chocolate midway to her red lips.

Have you given thought to what it is that you would like to do this time? he asked.

It’s December, I’m sure something will come up, she responded. People are more giving at this time of year, and we’re good at helping them put it to good use.

It does look like it will be a bitter Christmas, Mario looked outside the window at the big crop of snowflakes drifting down to join the pile of white snow on the ground. Angie, we’ve been here two days, what do you think about Canopy City?

He turned on the radio next to the green sofa where he sat and waited for her answer while the radio warmed up.

This town is suffering from the recession like many small towns we have seen before, Angie answered.

Nothing new though. We have pulled through before with less. I’m confident that we’ll be successful here too.

At that moment, the radio came on and the voice of a young man stated, The problem is aggravated for the orphanage as many families can’t afford their own means, let alone to take other children in. There are many families that have abandoned their children in lieu of facing the hunger situation rampant among the more destitute in this land. Now we will go to our sponsors and then return with the weather.

Mario…, did you hear that? Angie questioned.

I did.

I’m on my way. She pulled on her brown winter coat, her black gloves and the purple scarf over her head. Then out the door she disappeared.

Mario watched the young replica of the woman he had loved so deeply some twenty years before leave the room, her light brown hair trailing behind.

Every time he looked at the grass-colored eyes and the snowy countenance of Angie, his heart bled a little. How could he not when Tanya, Angie’s mother, haunted his dreams every night? Still Angie had given him his only reason to live after Tanya died of tuberculosis and left her little girl alone in the world.

Chapter Two

Sad Memories

He closed his eyes as his dark mass of wavy hair sunk into the back of the sofa he sat on. He knew what came next, it was a familiar scene in his mind by now. However, it gave him comfort in his lonely nights when he missed Tanya the most.

Mr. Tuzzini, we understand your association with Tanya Moore. You were to be married, but you didn’t, Mrs. Stockton’s heartless voice returned from the past.

We didn’t marry because she was kidnapped four weeks before our wedding. A horrible man took her and violated her. I was able to rescue her after a week of her ordeal. But, by the time the doctors put her head together, she could not remember anything, not even me.

I am sorry, Mr. Tuzzini, but that doesn’t have anything to do with Angieline, she insisted.

A month later, the doctors had discovered that Tanya was pregnant with Angieline. Fathered by that monster and too traumatized to deal with her past, though the baby in her womb gave her a grip on her future. When the social workers suggested to Tanya that she kill the baby, she left to hide from them all. However, I never left her alone. She didn’t recognize me, which made it easier to stay in the apartment next to her for some six years. She never knew it, yet I helped her quietly to take care of herself and the baby.

Mrs. Stockton’s black eyes did not show any sympathy when she commented, Miss Moore received money from the Victim Association, a hefty sum every month…

No, Mrs. Stockton, even after all her suffering, she didn’t qualify for it…. I sent her that money in their name. She wouldn’t have taken it from me and I could have caused more damage if I’d forced it on her.

Mr. Tuzzini, that still doesn’t make you next of kin, the obnoxious woman replied.

We were in love; don’t you get it? Angieline should have been our baby. I have always loved her as if she were mine own child. She is only five years old. How could you prefer to place her with a stranger instead of me?

The child has a hard life already, Mr. Tuzzini. She should have two parents, not just a man in her life.

Listen, I could not save her mother, but I have a chance to help Angie and I will do so even if I have to close you down.

Are you threatening me, Mr. Tuzzini? The woman stood to her full height of four feet eight inches and stared at him.

No, of course not. But I’m desperate, and I will get Angie with or without your help.

He had risen to leave to talk with a lawyer when she stopped him with a hand on the door.

Your papers prove that you are well off, Mr. Tuzzini…

The child will never go without, I assure you, he turned with renewed hope.

In that case, why don’t we help each other? This orphanage is in need of many repairs, as you can see. A new water tank and heaters for the winter, a new roof and a stove are only some of many things we desperately need. Perhaps you could help us a little?

Will twenty-five thousand be enough for the children, Mrs. Stockton?

Twenty-five… thousand? Oh my… I, I… Well, we, we should have all the paperwork … ready tomorrow, Mr. Tuzzini.

And the girl? he asked.

She will be ready to go with you, after you sign the adoption papers, she assured him.

I will be back at three tomorrow afternoon, with the money. One more thing, Mrs. Stockton, the donor will be anonymous, no one should ever know who gave it to you.

I got it. Look in the newspaper, Angie’s voice broke into his reverie.

With a start, he sat straight up, once again back in the room where Angie pushed a folded newspaper under his nose.

Where? He glanced at her as she sat by his side on the couch.

On the last page, she pointed.

The house which houses the orphanage in this town will have to close their doors, according to the communique received from the management, he read. "It is believed that the children are in danger while housed there. The place has been condemned as a hazard to the community by the city. According to our source, the children will have to be moved to other places in the hopes of better chances for adoption.

Mr. Hill, the superintendent of the children’s home said that all the children’s homes are functioning at more than full capacity and, with the economy the way it is, more folks are worried about how to keep food in their own family’s mouths and can’t take other children in. Another solution would be to find another building to move the children into before the year is over. But there is not much hope for that, since neither the orphanage nor the city hall has the money it would require to do so.

I will make an appointment with Mr. Hill and get all the information we need to plan our actions. Angie headed for the phone, while he left to his room.

Hello. Yes, may I speak to Mr. Hill please? Angie asked. I am the secretary of a freelance reporter who would like to do a big column about the children. Why good afternoon, Mrs. Hill. Mr. Hill is not available right now? When could we find him? Tomorrow will be okay, at 11:00 a.m. you say? The name? Oh yes, it’s Mario Grant. Yes, we will see you tomorrow, Mrs. Hill.

Chapter Three

The Orphanage

The next day before noon, in an old house in the poorest part of town, Mario said, Mrs. Hill, I presume.

Yes, I am Mrs. Hill…. Are you Mr. Grant?

Mr. Grant? Of course. It is a pleasure, he answered and sent a questioning look at his companion.

Oops, I forgot to tell you, she whispered as Mrs. Hill showed them the way to a room that smelled like damp, freshly-turned dirt. In one of the walls, the cracks ran from the ceiling to the floor.

Alfred, this is the reporter I talked to you about, and his secretary, Miss Heartfelt, Mrs. Hill introduced them.

A man with spectacles sat at the opposite side of an old desk, buried by stacks of papers threatening to fall over him.

You are an answer to our prayers, Mr. Grant. We have been most concerned about the children’s future. He didn’t stop talking as he stood and motioned them to sit in two white, wooden chairs in front of the old brown desk. As you know, we are the only children’s home that is still considered a home.

That is why we are here, Mr. Hill. Tell us more about this home.

We consider the children as our own, Mrs. Hill added quietly. They honor us by calling us Mom and Dad, she continued from the worn-out mustard-colored settee, where she had settled herself.

You can see why we are so upset, Mr. Hill continued as he combed his hand over the clump of thick red hair on top of his head. For a man in his late forties, he surprisingly had all his hair intact, and his wife, a pleasantly plump woman, wore a creased forehead under a pile of neatly kept brown hair.

They are forcing us to send the children to places where they will become numbers and lose all their uniqueness, Mrs. Hill wiped away a tear that had escaped her sweet brown eyes. I can’t bear it, she added as her shoulders vibrated with her quite sobs. They will get lost in the shuffle of things…

There, there, Julia. Let’s not give up, for as long as we have people like Mr. Grant who can bring us some light at the end of our tunnel.

We will certainly do our best, Mario said, and turned to find Angie busily writing down all the details. The room looked dark, but when he looked at the window, there hung a set of washed-out curtains, although they were clean and pressed.

We can’t adopt them all. The older woman looked at Mario and he turned to her.

Hmm, how many children are in your care? he asked in his most businesslike voice.

Julia replied, Twelve, four girls and eight boys.

And their ages are?

Alfred answered, Five years old to fourteen.

He glanced at Angie. She seemed busy with the details of the room. Her eyes were on the three old oil lamps that sat about the office, observing how they didn’t match.

Could you give me a list of the children? Mario queried.

Why will you need a list, Mr. Grant? Julia asked guardedly.

We need their names, a list of their ages and if it is a girl or boy marked by each one, Angie said.

Perhaps we can get people to donate something for them, Mario added.

That would be most helpful indeed. Julia’s eyes lightened.