Jingle’s Belle 

© Lani Aames, 2001. 


  

  

  

  

  

  

December 18 

Christmastown, The North Pole 

Present Day 

  

All the elves in Workshop #7 snickered when Jingle’s name was called over the loudspeaker and he was directed to report to the Main Office immediately. Jingle ignored the other elves at their workbenches as he strode past them, shrugged into his heavy coat, and pulled on his boots. He closed the door firmly behind him without a backward glance. 

The night air was cold and crisp this day...but the air was always cold and crisp at The North Pole and this time of year it was always night. Jingle enjoyed watching Baywatch every day after work, but he couldn’t really imagine what it would be like to live near a body of water warm enough to swim in, a stretch of sand to wiggle bare toes in, or sunlight strong enough to turn pale skin a golden brown. Jingle had lived his entire life in Christmastown and had never ventured south of the Arctic Circle. 

Trudging across the ice with the colorful flares of the Aurora Borealis lighting his way, Jingle wished he had time to stop by the stables. For years, he’d been trying to get a job as reindeer trainer, but he always managed to mess up when the time came for promotions. He often stopped by after work to watch the reindeer play instead of socializing at the Icicle Inn like the others. He hardly ever visited the pub. No one wanted him around. Not even Tinsel, the prettiest elfess in the world. 

Jingle reached the Main Office much too soon. What could Santa want with him? What had he done wrong now? Nothing...that he could remember. 

Inside, he removed his coat and boots. He straightened his dark green uniform as best he could, but the shirt and trousers always hung loose on his small frame. He couldn’t help it if he was the shortest and smallest elf of all, and not even size minus-half-elven fit him quite right. He hitched up his trousers and tightened the belt fastened over his shirt, but it didn’t help the drooping shoulder seams or sagging crotch. 

Nervously, he ran a hand through his unruly hair, trying to smooth the long black curls that always hung in disarray, wishing for the gazillionth time in his life that it was a light shade like all the other elves. Why did he have to have hair the color of black ice and tan skin that looked as if he’d stepped out of Baywatch instead of the normal pale elven complexion? He hoped Santa wouldn’t be disappointed in him—again. He knocked on The Door and entered when a muffled voice told him to. 

The large room was lined with shelves stuffed with countless letters and reams of lists. Tinsel was setting a box in the middle of the cluttered desk. She was dressed neatly in her forest green uniform, the points of her shirt hanging perfectly off her hips and across her thighs. Jingle’s breath caught in his chest when she turned to see who had entered. He smiled at her. 

Golden hair was tucked behind her ears, crystal stud earrings winking from just inside the peaks. How many nights had he lain awake imagining Tinsel moaning in ecstasy as he ran his fingers over those delectable points? Too many, he thought when she stared at him blankly then turned back toward the desk with a cheerful smile. 

“Will that be all, sir? I need to get back to Records and straighten up.” 

From behind a stack of ledgers, a hand waved at her in dismissal. 

Jingle smiled again as she came toward him on her way out. “Hi, Tinsel. Nice weather we’re having,” he said inanely, wishing he had a way with words, other than sounding stupid. 

Tinsel flounced past him without a look or word, and Jingle’s heart fell into the pit of his stomach. Why had he ever expected any different from her? Who could blame her or any elfess? He wasn’t much taller than she, and he looked awful in his ill-fitting uniform. Why should she notice him when everyone knew she was seeing Zap, Senior Reindeer Trainer. Zap stood over a head taller than Jingle and wore a size extra-double-elven uniform as if the material had been woven around his body. 

“Alexander?” a voice called gruffly from behind the ledgers. 

Jingle winced and his face flushed with embarrassment at Santa’s use of his given name. He was glad Tinsel had already left the room. The name he had been given at birth was another reason for ridicule from the others. Alexander was a human name, not elven. It had taken him years to make everyone forget the name Alexander and use the name he’d chosen for himself—Jingle, a proper elven name. Everyone except Santa, of course. Santa never forgot anything. 

“Yes, sir,” Jingle finally said and stepped closer to the desk. “You wanted to see me?” 

Santa set aside a list he had finished checking twice—Jingle noticed the bold double checkmarks—and stood. The jolly old elf towered over Jingle. He drew up, stiffened his back and straightened his shoulders, trying not to appear too small, but Santa was still the tallest elf he knew. Santa was even taller than Zap!

“Good to see you, lad,” Santa said as he walked around the desk at a sprightly gait. “How are things going in Number Seven?” 

“Right on schedule, as planned,” Jingle said. Actually, they were ahead of schedule, but anything could happen. He didn’t want to boast and then have them lose time, barely making production. It had happened before. 

“Number Seven has always been my favorite. Did you know it’s the original workshop?” 

“Yes, sir. Those of us who work in Number Seven are proud to continue the tradition.” 

Santa shook his head wearing a sad frown. “I know there isn’t much call for wooden toys these days. All the children want toys made out of plastic and electronics. Oh, well, times change and we have to change with them. I’ve always regretted not naming it Number One, but the Missus talked me into numbering them by location, and that one was built before we drew up the plans for Christmastown. She’s the practical one.” 

“How is Mrs. Claus?” 

“Busy as always with her baking.” 

“Please give her my regards,” Jingle added affectionately. 

Everyone loved Mrs. Claus and she loved every one of them. She called him Alexander, too, but he didn’t mind her using the human name. He had spent many afternoons at her kitchen table, eating tons of cookies and fruitcake and strudel, and drinking tall glasses of her Special Reindeer Milk. At the time, he thought eating enough would make him as big and tall as the other elves, but nothing had helped. 

“I’ll tell her, lad.” Santa lifted the box Tinsel had set on the desk. “Come along, Alexander. I’m sure you’re curious why I called for you.” 

Jingle followed him to the back of the room and through a door, which led to a smaller, cozier room—Santa’s study. Jingle had never been in this room and didn’t know anyone who had. He held his breath as he stepped over the threshold, and Santa closed the door behind them. 

A fire crackled in the fireplace, a rarity in Christmastown. None of the elves knew exactly how their homes and shops were heated, but there were no fireplaces in any of them. Lumber was brought in, of course, but it was for the making of wooden toys in #7. Jingle had never seen actual logs like those burning in the fireplace, except on the television of course. 

Two overstuffed chairs set in front of the fireplace, a table between them holding a lamp and a large snowglobe. To one side was an antique cabinet, and the rest of the walls were covered in shelves filled with books. 

“This is my private study, where I get away from time to time. No one is allowed in here, not even the cleaning elves. And Mrs. Claus comes only at my invitation. This close to Christmas, I usually don’t have time to slip in here. But I’ve got a little problem and I think you can help me out. Sit down, Alexander, and make yourself comfortable.” 

Jingle sat in the chair that looked the least worn, deciding the other would be Santa’s favorite. He settled in, feeling dwarfed as the plump upholstery enveloped him. Only the toes of his shoes touched the floor. Yes, even the furniture was made to accommodate extra-double-elven sized elves. 

Santa handed him a small glass of sherry and sat in the other chair. 

“I don’t know how I can help,” Jingle said after taking a sip of the dry wine. “But I’ll do anything you ask.” 

“You’re a good lad, Alexander, to agree to help before you know what the problem is. If you’d rather not, just say the word.” Santa moved the snowglobe closer to Jingle. “Look in there and tell me what you see.” 

Jingle set the sherry glass aside. The glass ball, balanced on an ornate gold base, was large enough that he would have trouble holding it in both hands. A tiny blizzard spun dizzily within. Jingle looked but he saw nothing except the snow. 

“Sorry, lad, I forgot,” Santa said and passed his hand over the globe. 

The swirling snow cleared in the center and a form took shape. As it sharpened, Jingle saw it was a human woman. She was beautiful, he decided, for a human. Her eyes were large, almost elven, except they were a dark color. Her long dark brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail and one round ear was visible. 

All humans had round ears, and he’d seen many of them on the television, but he was still intrigued by the way the top curved instead of coming to a point like elven ears. Did fondling their ears arouse humans the same way it did elves? Ears were hardly ever mentioned or touched on the television. He’d always thought maybe it was too intimate a gesture to show, but he wasn’t sure. He’d seen most intimate gestures enacted on the television—gestures he’d imagined trying with Tinsel if she had ever noticed him. 

This human woman was as beautiful as Tinsel, he surprised himself by thinking. 

“Her name is Belinda Cooper,” Santa said as he shuffled papers in the box, looked at one, discarded it, and picked up another. “She was a wonderful child, never asking for outrageous presents like most children. She began to unbelieve when she was eight years old.” 

Unbelieve. The word brought incredible sadness to them all. Every time a child started to unbelieve, a little of the magic of Christmas was lost. 

“I haven’t heard from her in a long time, of course,” Santa continued. “Belinda grew up and started living her life. She’s twenty-nine now.” 

Jingle frowned. Humans lived such short lives compared to elves. At the equivalent of twenty-nine human years, he had still been considered an immature elfling. Even now, he was quite young compared to most of the other elves in Christmastown. 

“Belinda is all alone. Her father died when she was a child, and her mother five years ago, both near Christmas, which brings sad memories during the holiday season. She has no husband, no children, no one to call her own. Belinda’s Christmas spirit is nearly broken.” 

Jingle nodded. He understood that humans considered death as a devastating loss while elves regarded it as a cause for celebration. But elves did not die the same way as humans. Their fading was a return to the Elfland, the origin of their existence. Jingle missed his mother Twilight, but he wasn’t sad. He knew she had returned to the Elfland and he was happy for her. All elves anticipated their eventual return to the Elfland. 

His father? It was unheard of among elves not to know one’s parents, yet he’d never known his father. It was the only thing Twilight ever denied him—information about his father. When asked why she’d given him a human name, she explained she liked the sound of it, but would say no more. Jingle suspected there was much more to it than that, but he had never persisted. 

“I’m not supposed to have favorites among the children, you know,” Santa said, breaking into Jingle’s thoughts. “But Belinda was a special child. Don’t tell the Missus, but she always left the best cookies I’ve ever eaten.” 

Jingle smiled at Santa’s confession, but he was puzzled. He wasn’t sure what Santa thought he could do. As if reading his mind, Santa answered his question. 

“I want you to help Belinda regain her Christmas spirit. She’s very sad and lonely and needs a special friend right now. Christmas is only a week away, and she hasn’t even begun to decorate. Now, it will be obvious from the moment you arrive, that you’re not human. But she won’t—or won’t want to believe you’re elven. You’ll have to convince her that you’re one of my elves and there is much to be thankful for, that her blessings outweigh the sadness. It will be a difficult task.” 

Jingle stared at the still picture of the human called Belinda Cooper. Moving among humans would not be easy, but his life with the elves had never been easy either. Most of all, Santa asked this of him and he would never say no to Santa. 

“I’ll do it,” Jingle said in a quick rush of breath before he could change his mind. 

“Good! I’m sure you’ll do an excellent job, Alexander,” Santa said proudly. “It’s the middle of the night there now. We’ll leave as soon as the team is hitched up.” 

Jingle watched as the picture of Belinda Cooper slowly faded, to be replaced by the snowstorm. He wasn’t sure how to go about helping her regain her Christmas spirit, but with his pointed ears and small stature, he would have no trouble convincing her he was an elf. 



  

December 19
Glenville, Tennessee 

Present Day 

  

  

Belinda Cooper lay awake in her darkened bedroom and tried to sleep, but she was restless. She raised up on one elbow to punch her pillow into a more comfortable shape, then she flopped down on her stomach. The red numerals on the digital clock screamed 1 a.m. at her. Bel wanted to scream back. 

Instead, she flipped over and threw the covers aside, enjoying the relatively cooler air that caressed her too warm body. All too soon, goosebumps pimpled her skin and she was chilled. Her choices were limited: draw the covers over her again or get up. 

She got up. 

Bel stood in the middle of the room, but she didn’t know what to do. A month had passed since her break-up with Rick Mitchell. They’d dated for nearly five years, then Rick moved in last summer. Big mistake. You really didn’t know someone until you lived with him. And it was easier to catch him cheating. How many times had he cheated the past five years? She hadn’t asked him because she didn’t really want to know. 

Still chilled, Bel drew on her winter housecoat of thick flannel over silk short pajamas. All of her sleepwear was made of silk, her one indulgence. She loved the feel of cool silk slipping across her skin. Flannel was for warmth. She tied the belt and pulled hunters socks on her feet. 

She missed Rick. Or the Rick she thought he was instead of the Rick he revealed himself to be. How does a woman spend over fifty percent of her free time with a man for five years and not know him? One of life’s eternal mysteries, she thought as she padded down the hall to the kitchen. At least she hadn’t married the jerk. 

They’d talked about it, half-heartedly planning it for a few years down the road. She’d taken it seriously but Rick had obviously been patronizing her. He’d been crushed when his wife told him she was in love with another man, broken-hearted when he realized there was no chance of a reconciliation, and devastated by the divorce. Rick told her all this with a straight face and she believed him. Now, she wondered. Had his wife gotten fed up with his wandering ways and called it quits? It seemed a more likely scenario. 

Bel jerked open the refrigerator door, the light almost blinding her. She would grab something to drink, then veg out in front of the TV. She couldn’t decide if she wanted hot cocoa or cold boiled custard. She’d picked up a quart jug at the store after work, the only concession she’d made to the holiday season this year. 

“Bah, humbug!” she said aloud. 

What was the point? She had no family, no one to share Christmas with this year. Her brother and his family were in California, but she couldn’t afford the trip yet. She had a cousin that she was somewhat close to, but this was her first Christmas with her new husband. Bel couldn’t barge in on that. So why decorate? Why bake? Why make boiled custard from scratch? Why celebrate Christmas at all? 

Bel decided on boiled custard because it would require effort to make hot cocoa. And she would forego her favorite holiday movies—A Christmas Carol, Holiday Inn, and Christmas in Connecticut—tonight and every night until Christmas. She wouldn’t watch It’s A Wonderful Life on New Year’s Eve because in Real Life there was no hope. You didn’t plan to jump in a river to end the misery only to be saved by an angel who showed you how wonderful your life really was. 

Bel felt the tears begin. She didn’t think she had any tears left. She thought she’d cried out all her tears over the split with Rick, and then the anniversaries of her parents’ deaths. To top it all off, she would turn 30 in a couple of weeks. But here they were, burning the backs of her eyes, blurring her vision. She wasn’t at the point where she was ready to dive into the Mississippi, but she was quite unhappy with her life. She pressed the heel of her free hand against her eyes, one at a time, clearing them of tears, and heard a thunk against the house. 

Bel froze, listening. She couldn’t tell where it had come from. Was someone trying to break in? If so, they were being very clumsy. 

Then came a rolling rumble, a series of thumps and bumps, and now she could tell it came from the roof. Bel released the refrigerator door, plunging the room into darkness. She sniffled once and finished wiping her eyes. Suddenly, there was one more short rumble and a final, solid thud as whatever had toppled from the roof hit the ground. 

Gradually, her eyes adjusted to the dimness. Moonlight and starlight filtered through the curtains. She sniffled as she eased aside the curtain on the door, but she couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary, nothing moving in the shadows. 

Stillness. Silence. 

Suddenly, Bel thought of the old oak tree that had shaded the house from the front yard for decades. One of the huge branches might have snapped off. Or maybe the entire tree had fallen. She grabbed the flashlight from the nearest cabinet and opened the door. 

Bel decided against turning on the outside light. It would spotlight her, and she wouldn’t be able to see beyond the circle of light—just in case someone was out there. She dashed outside and around to the front of the house, flashing the light at the big oak. She didn’t see a gaping hole in the lacework of branches, didn’t see a fallen branch anywhere. The whole tree was still standing, straight and tall and starkly leafless against the night sky. If not the oak, then... 

Back to the burglar theory. But why would someone be climbing on the roof when there were plenty of windows and doors to gain entry? All securely locked, of course, Bel reminded herself as she casually made her way back to the kitchen door. She saw no reason to panic and break into a wild run, alerting the would-be thief she knew he was there. 

So far it had been a mild winter. While the night air was chilly, it was well above freezing. Still, she sniffled a few times, the chill air adding to the runny nose that her almost-crying jag had started. Over the sniffles, she heard another sound—a low moan. 

Automatically, Bel shone the light in the direction from which it came. Her mother’s rock garden spread along the side of the house like a flowerbed. Her mother had always collected rocks, large and small, everywhere she went, even from the decorative beds in front of her favorite restaurants and shops, to Bel’s embarrassment. 

In the center of the rock garden lay a man. 

Bel gasped, then clamped a hand over her mouth. She couldn’t believe there really was a thief, but there he was, sprawled amid the collection of rocks and stones. Bel flashed the light over him from head to toe. No movement. Was he breathing? She held her own breath, unable to do anything about the mad pounding of her heart, and watched him. After a few moments, she could see the shallow but steady rise and fall of his chest. 

She should call 911, but what if he was bleeding to death? A few minutes could be the difference between life and death. She took a few steps toward him. What if it was a trap? To lure her closer so he could grab her and do who-knew-what to her. She stopped. 

Examining him in the bright beam, she didn’t see any spreading stain of red anywhere. Then his face caught her attention and she couldn’t believe how gorgeous he was. Long black hair tangled around his face, and thick black brows swept over his eyes then slightly angled upward. His eyes were closed, long lashes smudging beneath. They seemed almost too large, yet they fit perfectly with the rest of his long, oval face—high cheekbones, long straight nose, full sensuous lips. Kissable lips, Bel thought then shook herself. 

He was a burglar, or worse, and she was drooling over his lips. 

He was an injured man who needed help, and she was drooling over his lips. 

Either way, she was drooling—figuratively—and she needed to do something. 

She flashed the beam along the length of his body from broad shoulders tapering to a cinched-in waist and legs that seemed to go on forever. At least six feet tall, she guessed. Yet the clothing he wore was too loose on him. The clothing... 

Bel stepped closer. Unbelievably, he was wearing an elf costume. The Christmas-green suit had triangular points hanging from the tunic. A small red tote bag, gathered at the top, was tied to his belt. He even wore pointed elf shoes. She had never seen anyone more ill-suited to be an elf! What was he doing here, dressed like that? Where had he come from? 

From the roof, she remembered suddenly. She straightened and shone the light up at the top of the house, but she didn’t see anything. And what did she expect? A helicopter straddling the ridge? Or a sleigh and eight tiny reindeer? 

She dropped the light to shine on him again. No blood that she could see. None of his limbs were twisted grotesquely, indicating a broken bone. He’d been knocked out cold so there could be a concussion. She really should call 911 and get the sheriff and an ambulance on the way. 

But just as she made the decision to do so and took a step toward the kitchen door, he moaned again and moved. Bel quickly flashed the light over him. He was stirring, long legs bending, and one hand reached up to the back of his head as he raised a little. Bel stepped back, then ran into the kitchen. 

Frantically, she jerked open the closet door. It was a large closet, a pantry really, but for now she used it to store the things that Rick had left behind. He had managed to accumulate an enormous amount of junk in the six months he had lived here and hadn’t bothered to take it all with him. 

The baseball bat was at the back, of course. She kicked boxes out of the way and grabbed it, then ran back outside. The giant elf hadn’t moved much more, but both hands were at the back of his head now. 

“Stay right where you are!” Bel shouted at him. “Don’t move! I have a baseball bat and I know how to use it.” 

His head cocked to one side, but Bel didn’t think she should count that as a movement. She really couldn’t imagine having to bash the bat into that gorgeous face. She hoped he had a really good excuse for falling from her roof in the middle of the night. 

One eye opened, then the other. He looked up at her and grinned, and she almost melted. Good grief, what a smile! Those full lips sort of tip-tilted up at one corner. 

“Belinda? Belinda Cooper?” he asked. His voice was husky and shaky. From the fall, she supposed. 

“H-How do you know my name?” she whispered, tightening her hold on the bat...and the flashlight. She was holding both, so she wasn’t sure which she gripped harder. 

“Santa Claus knows everyone’s name,” he said with a laugh, as if it was something she should know. He tried to rise on one elbow. “Santa Claus sent me. I’m Jingle, your Christmas Elf.” Then he frowned and looked her up and down. “You’re much smaller than I thought you’d be.” 

Before she could frame a reply to his crazy talk, he slumped back down and groaned, then didn’t move again. 

Her Christmas elf? 

Now, Bel knew she had truly lost her mind. She had gone stark raving mad. Jingle, her Christmas Elf. What would she conjure up next: her own private tooth fairy, a pet Easter bunny, Elvis? 

Bel let the end of the bat drop, grateful she hadn’t called 911. What harm could an imaginary elf do? She crept closer to him, mesmerized by the perfect blending of imperfect features to create the best looking man she’d ever seen. No wonder he was so handsome and tall. She wouldn’t have hallucinated a short, ugly elf. 

He stirred again, blinking his eyes open. Bel directed the light so that it wouldn’t be in his eyes, but she could still see him. Tentatively, she reached out and poked him in the side. He felt solid enough. But then wouldn’t her cracked mind allow her to think so? She really didn’t know how hallucinations worked. She’d never been confronted with one before. 

“Why are you here?” she asked, more of herself than him, but he answered anyway. 

“I told you, Santa sent me.” 

“Yes, that’s what you said,” Bel agreed. “But you’re not real, y’know. Or at least I know it, and since I made you up, you should know it, too. Now, why don’t you just disappear like a good little elf so I can finish having my breakdown in peace.” 

His black brows knitted in a frown, and his gaze swept over her briefly. Then one brow arched in a universal gesture of superiority. “I’m bigger than you.” 

“So you are. Which only proves you’re not real. Elves are short, tiny little—” 

“But I am short!” he interrupted forcefully. “I’m the smallest elf of all of Santa’s elves. Are you the smallest human of all?” 

And the thing was, Bel noticed in dismay, he asked the question seriously. What was worse, she answered him seriously. 

“No. Actually, I’m quite tall for a woman—but I’m not the tallest either.” She drew in a deep breath. “Look, this is insane. I’m sitting here in the middle of a rock garden with a giant elf. You’re not real and I’m cold.” 

“Of course I’m real,” Jingle said softly. He raised up suddenly, and before Bel could react, one arm had wrapped around her and his mouth closed over hers. 

The kiss took her breath away—figuratively. His lips moved softly over hers and she responded without a second thought. She was only vaguely aware of his other hand brushing aside her hair, his fingers tracing the outline of her ear then rubbing back and forth across the top. 

Shivers raced through her body, but she didn’t know if from the cold or his kiss. When her belly tightened and heat stirred between her thighs, she pulled away from him, startled. Definitely the kiss. 

“If-If you are real,” she said, scrambling to her feet, “then you’re crazier than I am. I don’t know if hallucinations get cold, but you’d better come inside.” 

Bel hurried back into the house. If he was real, and he certainly felt real enough, she had just foolishly invited a stranger into her house. She flipped the switch, flooding the kitchen with light, and put the flashlight away. She held onto the baseball bat. 

She hadn’t realized how cold she was until she stepped into the warmth of the house. Her toes were numb and her fingertips were like icicles when she touched her skin. Strange, but she didn’t remember his fingers being cold when he fondled her ear. 

Jingle stepped into the doorway, broad shoulders filling it up, then he was inside, closing the door behind him. If he was the shortest and smallest elf of all, she didn’t want to think about the size and stature of the rest of them! 

He was over six feet tall, perhaps six-two or -three, which meant he was four or five inches above her own height. Tall men, she’d learned early on, didn’t want tall women. They wanted petite. Short men, on the other hand, flocked to tall women. She’d never been comfortable looking down at a date, although she’d had several of those in the past. It was no wonder she’d imagined a tall elf. And dark skin. Could you really get a tan at the North Pole at the height of summer that would last year-round? Nah, she didn’t think so. 

“Can’t Santa afford elfsuits that fit?” 

Bel couldn’t be sure, but she thought he blushed. 

“The uniforms,” he said quietly while tugging at his tunic, “don’t come in my size.” 

She frowned. If she were going to conjure up an elf, she would have made his uniform more form-fitting, showing off the fantastic physique she’d no doubt given him. Unless it was somehow symbolic of her own insecurities. She wasn’t a psychiatrist, but she could see the implications. She didn’t wear her life well, so her imaginary elf’s clothes didn’t fit either. 

The elf, something small and insignificant, represented her fractured psyche. His height and handsomeness because she was lonely and alone. She missed Rick more than he deserved. She thought she just missed having someone around. An elf was better than no one, she supposed, and set the bat side. 

So much for psychobabble. She’d analyzed everything as well as she could, but Jingle was still here. Jingle! She was certain she should have come up with a better name than that. 

Jingle was still rubbing the back of his head as he gazed around the kitchen. 

“Sit down and let me look at your injury,” Bel offered. 

Jingle obediently sat in one of the kitchen chairs, and Bel walked up behind him. She wove her fingers into the glossy black waves and gently felt his scalp. A small bump, no larger than a walnut, bulged a little. That was good. If the wound had been sunken in, that would have been bad. 

He didn’t say anything or flinch from her touch, so she decided he wasn’t hurt too badly. Since he was a figment of her imagination, did it matter? 

“Do you feel dizzy or anything?” she asked just to be polite, although she couldn’t quite justify being polite to a hallucination. 

“No, nothing.” 

“Good. I was about to have some boiled custard. Do you want some? Or would you rather have hot cocoa?” 

“Boiled custard?” he asked and turned to look up at her. 

His eyes were the palest blue she’d ever seen, so pale as to be almost colorless. They stood out starkly against the tan of his skin and coal black hair. 

“Kind of like egg nog,” Bel explained as she took two cups from the drainboard and got the quart jug from the refrigerator. “Except it’s thicker and no spice.” 

He watched her pour, then took the cup she handed him. He sipped, then broke into a delightful grin that almost made her heart stop beating. She’d certainly dreamed up the best-looking man she’d ever seen. Too bad he was an elf. Too bad he was imaginary. 

“Reindeer Milk!” he said, surprised, and drained the cup. 

“Reindeer milk? No, it’s made with—” 

“Mrs. Claus makes it, using reindeer milk, of course. She calls it her Special Reindeer Milk. Hers is thicker.” 

“Well, this is made with plain old cow’s milk.” Bel held up the jug. “More?” 

He nodded eagerly and held out his cup. Bel refilled it. 

When they’d finished, she looked at the empty cups sitting side by side and the nearly empty jug. Could an imaginary elf actually consume anything? Of course, a shrink would say she’d drunk it herself, but she certainly didn’t feel like she’d had over half a quart of boiled custard. She set the jug in the fridge, and turned to find Jingle standing right behind her. 

“I can’t believe how small you are,” he said, looking down at her. 

No one had ever said that to her. “I-I’m not small. I told you before.” 

“But humans are supposed to be—” And he cocked his head back as if he was looking at the ceiling, then his pale blue eyes settled on her again. “On the television, in your Christmas movies, humans are always much bigger than elves, nearly twice as tall.” 

“I know. And since I’ve imagined you, I don’t really know why you’re not small.” 

He smiled that wonderful smile again, pleased. “Here, I’m not small at all, am I? But why do you think I’m not real?” 

“Because elves aren’t real,” she explained. “Elves, whether Christmas elves or part of fairy tales, just aren’t real. You can disappear now. I’ve decided I don’t want to go crazy. It’s too...too unsettling.” 

“How can you say I’m not real?” he asked softly and moved in closer. Bel tried to back away, but she was already against the refrigerator with nowhere else to go. He leaned in even closer, his full lips slightly parted, and he kissed her again. 

Oh yes, he felt real. And so was the warmth that spread through her body. Feeling had come back to her fingers and toes because now they tingled. And that delicious burn in the pit of her belly, spreading lower... How long had it been since she’d been this easily aroused by a kiss? The kiss of a stranger. The kiss of an elf! 

Bel pulled away violently, banging her head against the refrigerator. “No! You’re not real. If you’re real, then you’re not an elf. If you are real, then you—” 

“I’m real and I’m an elf,” he said, keeping her pinned against the refrigerator, his body pressed to hers. Now she was all too aware of his arousal which only intensified her own. She almost missed the significance as he brushed his thick wavy hair behind one pointed ear. 

Bel almost did a double-take. The top of his ear swept upward to a point. Not very high, she thought, unlike some pictures of elves she’d seen, because his hair had covered it completely. Almost like... 

She reached up, thinking he’d done an fine job of attaching the piece. Not a seam or trace of makeup to be seen. She ran her hand along the peak which produced a deep sound in his throat. He closed his eyes, and his arousal pressed against her even harder. 

“You can get these,” she said, suddenly pinching the tip and twisting as hard as she could, “at any sci-fi convention!” 

His eyes flew open and he yelped, thoughts of ecstasy fleeing mind and body, Bel noted with satisfaction. He grabbed at her hand, trying to free his ear, but Bel held on, determined to pull off the fake appliance. She held on, but so did the piece of rubber. What had he done, superglued the thing on? 

“Ow! What are you doing? That hurts!” he yelled, struggling to get free of her vise-like grip. They crossed the kitchen until he was backed up against the counter. His face twisted in pain, he grabbed her arm and yanked it from his ear. She stared at the tip. It was beet-red but still firmly attached. She was forced to concede the pointed ear was real. 

Unbidden, tears sprang in her eyes. If his pointed ears were real, then she really had lost her mind. She wrapped her arms protectively around herself and backed away from him. 

“I don’t know who you are,” she whispered roughly, almost choking on the words as tears spilled down her cheeks. “I don’t know what you are, but I want you gone. Now! I’m going to bed, and I don’t want to see you again.” 

Bel whirled, grabbed the baseball bat, and ran from the kitchen before he could commence his silly ravings about how Santa Claus had sent him and he was her Christmas elf. In her bedroom, she closed the door and locked it. Then shoved a chair securely under the doorknob. Crawling into bed, she hugged the bat close to her. Poor substitute for a lover, she thought miserably, but she felt better with the weapon close by. Exhausted, she fell asleep almost instantly. 

  

* * * * * 

  

Brittle sunlight streamed through the window when Bel awoke to the fading echo of chimes. As she blinked her eyes open, the musical notes played several times in quick succession. She glanced at the clock. It read 1:00 and she had that uncanny feeling of déjà vu. She flung her hand aside to grab the covers...and felt a baseball bat in her bed. 

Memories—no, memories of dreams, she corrected adamantly—rushed through her mind. She giggled. She had really dreamed up a Christmas elf named Jingle! The doorbell ran once more, and Bel scrambled out of bed, catching her robe and slipping it on as she went. She shook her head at the crazy dream as she moved a chair from under the knob and unlocked the door. She did not allow herself to think why the bat was in her bed or the door locked with a chair bracing it if it had all been a dream. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Bel called out and hurried down the hall. She opened the door to find Violet Ramsay, an acquaintance from the office. Their desks were next to one another, but while the two were friendly toward each other, they had never associated outside the office. 

Violet smiled and held out a familiar coffee mug. “You left this on your desk, half full of coffee. I brought it home and washed it. I figured by the time we came back after the holidays, alien lifeforms would have evolved.” 

Bel laughed and took the mug. The office was closed through Christmas and wouldn’t reopen until after New Year’s. “Thank you, Violet, but you didn’t have to make a special trip out here—” 

“I didn’t. I mean, I was just going to bring it in to the office after the first, but I was coming out this way anyway. My great-aunt lives down the road a piece, so I thought I’d drop it off.” 

“I appreciate it. I don’t know where my mind was yesterday.” 

“Anxious to get out of there, no doubt,” Violet said with a grin. “Did I wake you?” 

Bel nodded guiltily. “Yeah, I had one of those nights. I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned for hours and when I finally did doze off, I had the craziest dream.” 

“I have nights like that, but the kids won’t let me sleep late. They’re always wanting something.” 

Violet shuffled in the cold. The temperature was in the 50’s, and the sun was shining as brightly as it could in winter, but the breezy air had a snap to it. Bel could feel the chill curling around her ankles and drifting up her robe. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know where my manners are. Come on in and I’ll fix us some coffee.” 

Violet hesitated, then stepped inside. “I really shouldn’t,” she said as Bel closed the door. “I told Aunt Oscie I’d be right back, but coffee sounds good. That air is going straight through this sweater. I should have worn a heavier jacket, but it’s so warm in the car with the sunshine.” 

“How is Miss Oscie? I haven’t seen her in ages,” Bel said as she led the way into the kitchen. “My grandmother and her were friends.” 

“Well, my grandmother is her sister. They don’t get along, but I like to visit her occasionally. She’s family and she does enjoy having the kids around. I keep telling Grandma she should try to patch things up, neither one of them are spring chickens, but Grandma and Aunt Oscie are both stubborn as mules.” 

Violet continued talking, something to do with both sisters being in love with the same boy. Violet’s grandmother won. The two never spoke to one another again and Miss Oscie never married. Bel listened as she put on water to boil and brought two mugs from the cabinet. 

“Oh my! I see you’ve gotten over Rick quick enough.” 

Bel froze, one mug still in her hand, then looked at Violet standing by the window that looked out over the backyard. In a weak moment, needing someone to talk to, Bel had confided in Violet when she found out about Rick’s other woman. Violet had been sympathetic and assured Bel she’d made the right decision by throwing him out. Violet told her it wasn’t a failing on her part, some men just couldn’t grasp the concept of fidelity. 

“Wh-What do you mean?” Bel stuttered, afraid of the answer. 

Violet smiled and waved toward the window. 

“Oh, didn’t you know there’s a man sunbathing in your backyard? In this weather! What is he, an Eskimo?” 

Bel forced one foot in front of the other until she stood behind Violet. Her jaw dropped. The man from her dream, the elf, was getting up from a chaise lounge lawn chair. He walked toward the house. And he was shirtless! 

The mug slipped from her fingers and hit the floor. 

“N-No, not an Eskimo, but he is from up north,” Bel said. After all, The North Pole was as far north as one could get. 

“Where did you find him?” Violet asked, eyeing him appreciatively. 

“Oh, he found me.” Bel quickly scooped up the mug, which miraculously hadn’t broken. 

The truth slammed into her hard. She hadn’t dreamed him up, and she hadn’t imagined him. If Violet could see him, then Jingle the Christmas elf was real! 

The kettle started to whistle just as Jingle came through the door. Bel scrambled to remove it from the burner and turn off the stove. Then she looked at Jingle. Oh yes, he had that fantastic physique she had imagined she would bestow upon a hallucination. Well-defined muscles corded his arms and chest. She’d never been one to go gaga over muscles, but she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. 

“Well, aren’t you going to introduce us?” Violet asked. 

“Sure,” Bel said, startled. She’d forgotten anyone else was in the room—or in the world. “Violet Ramsay, a friend from the office. This is Jingle—” 

“Alexander,” he said at the same time. 

Bel stared at him wide-eyed. He grinned, his gorgeous mouth tilting up at one corner, and shrugged a little, flexing quite a few of those muscles. 

“Alexander,” Bel conceded, thinking quickly. “Alexander is...a friend of...of my brother’s. It’s an old joke between us. Y’know, Jingle, Bel.” 

Violet laughed. 

“He and my brother have been out of touch for awhile, and, uh, Alexander, didn’t know that Shaun and his family had moved to California. When Alexander showed up today, I couldn’t just turn him away.” 

“Of course not,” Violet agreed. “It’s nice to meet you, Alexander. But do you often sunbathe in the middle of winter?” 

Jingle shook his head and Bel was relieved that his thick black hair didn’t reveal the points of his ears with the movement. She could safely say he was from up north, explaining why this winter weather was mild to him, but there was no way to explain his ears. On the other hand, who in their right minds would believe he was an elf? 

She did. But she still wasn’t sure she was in her right mind even though Violet could see him, too. 

Jingle was saying, “No, this is warm compared to The North—” 

“I told Violet you’re from up north,” Bel interrupted. “Way up north.” 

Jingle nodded. “Yes. The north. This is warm compared to the north where I’m from.” 

“Okay,” Violet agreed, eyebrows raised, and took the coffee mug from Bel. She helped herself to the creamer and sugar Bel had set out. 

Forcibly tearing her eyes away from Jingle, Bel brought out another mug and handed it to him. Biceps flexed as he held out his arm to take it. 

“You drink coffee, don’t you?” Bel asked. 

Jingle nodded. He took a sip, his nose wrinkling. She poured in creamer and sugar. When he sipped again, his nose didn’t wrinkle quite as badly. 

Bel took his arm and steered him toward the table. “It’s instant, okay.” 

She watched him as, muscles rippling with every movement, he sat across the table from Violet. And Violet, she noticed, couldn’t keep her eyes off of him either. Time to cover him up. Bel could do that. Without a word, she went into the pantry/closet and rummaged through Rick’s stuff. She pulled out a wrinkled t-shirt. Jingle was bigger than Rick, but it should fit. 

Back in the kitchen, she casually tossed the shirt at Jingle, then sat at the table with her coffee. 

“Jingle’s luggage was lost at the airport. It’s an old shirt that Rick left behind,” she explained to Violet. 

Jingle finally managed to pull the shirt on, but Bel stared at him in dismay. He looked even sexier with clothes, than without them. The t-shirt was a bit too tight and every wrinkle vanished. The thin knit material molded to every muscle group, defining each line and curve deliciously. Violet could hardly drag her eyes away from the bulging biceps, the turgid triceps, the distended deltoids, and an intro to a perfect six-pack. 

What struck Bel was that Jingle was completely unaware of the effect he had on both women. 

“Well,” Violet finally said a bit breathlessly. “I really should be going. I’m sure Aunt Oscie is wondering what’s keeping me.” 

“You could always give her a call,” Bel suggested. 

“No, I’m sure the kids are getting too rambunctious by now. Nice to meet you, Alexander.” Violet stood and with a last long glance at Jingle, or rather his fine physique, she turned to flee. 

“It was nice to meet you, too,” Jingle said politely and returned his attention to the coffee. 

Violet stopped at the kitchen door so quickly that Bel almost ran into her. 

“You will be at the Christmas party tonight, won’t you?” 

“No, I—” Bel began. 

“Why don’t you bring Alexander?” Then Violet turned to look at the hunk in question. “You will come, won’t you?” 

“I wasn’t planning—” Bel started. 

“A Christmas party?” Jingle stood and came around the table to stand beside Bel. “Will there be lots of laughter and good spirits?” 

Bel didn’t like the way his blue-white eyes had lit up. Surely, he didn’t think to attend in his elf get-up? 

Violet looked puzzled. “Sure. Lots of spirits. It’s BYO. And snacks. I’m bringing my famous cheese dip.” 

“The kind that’s spicy enough to peel paint?” 

Violet laughed good-naturedly. “Yeah. I’ll see you both tonight, then?” 

Bel was cornered. Jingle seemed eager to go, and she could hardly disappoint her Christmas elf. She had really been looking forward to a quiet Saturday night at home. She would pop a big bowl of popcorn and settle down for the premiere showing on an overpriced movie channel. 

When Violet had gone, she whirled on Jingle, but he had returned to his chair, sipping the coffee again. He made a face. “This tastes funny.” 

“It’s instant. Get over it.” 

“Why don’t you want to go to the party?” 

Bel frowned and shrugged. “And spend even more time with people I have nothing in common with? Violet is all right. I guess she’s the best friend I have at the office, but the rest of them...” 

“Why don’t you like them?” 

“It’s not that I don’t like them. It’s just that none of them share my interests, that’s all. I have no need to listen to them talk about the things they like and they wouldn’t be interested in what I enjoy. Even Violet. She’s married, has children. I—I’ve never been married and no kids, so I don’t know what it’s like. My eyes tend to glaze over whenever she starts one of her cutesy stories about—” 

“Why aren’t you married?” he interrupted, asking the question innocently. 

Bel shrugged, felt herself blushing. “I haven’t found the right guy, the man I want to spend the rest of my life with.” 

Suddenly, she realized it was true. 

“But there was a man, wasn’t there?” Jingle asked, his voice low and thoughtful as he plucked at the shirt. 

“Yes, there was Rick. You’re wearing his shirt.” Bel reached out and ran one finger down the center of his chest. Rick had never filled out the shirt the way Jingle the Christmas elf did. “But he wasn’t the one.” 

Jingle caught her hand and pressed it against the center of his chest. He was warm and firm through the knit material. “How did you know?” 

“We dated for five years and had some good times together. He even moved in for awhile and—and we talked about getting married. But...” Bel bit her lip. She didn’t want to tell him Rick’s cheating and leaving hurt her, not because she was desperately in love with him, but because she was alone again. “I think I knew from the beginning. I didn’t feel it here.” She tapped her fingers against his chest. “I didn’t feel it in my heart.” 

He smiled and laid both hands over hers, entwining his fingers with hers. She had to turn the subject away from Rick. She didn’t want to talk or even think about him. 

“What about you? Is there a pretty elf maid waiting for your return to The North Pole?” 

His smile dissolved into a frown. “No one waits for me.” 

“What about family? Your parents, brothers or sisters?” 

He shook his head. “My parents are—gone. I have no brothers or sisters.” 

“My parents are gone, too. I have a brother, Shaun. He’s married and they have two children, a girl and a boy. They moved to California early this year.” 

He perked up. “California? That’s where Baywatch is.” 

“Yeah, but the show isn’t being made anymore.” 

“I know that, but the beaches and the water and the sun are still there, aren’t they?” 

“Oh! You want to go to California. Me, too. I can’t afford the trip yet, but I’m saving up. I’ll stay with my brother, so I won’t have to worry about a hotel. But there’s the plane ticket and I want to make sure I have plenty of money for shopping and sight-seeing.” 

Bel had withdrawn her hands from his chest in her enthusiasm. Which was just as well. Touching him was not a good idea, not really. It made her want to do things she shouldn’t do...like seduce an elf. 

“Why are you here?” she suddenly blurted out. “You said Santa sent you, but you never said why.” 

“I’m supposed to help you regain your Christmas spirit. Santa is worried about you.” 

“About me? There are millions of people in the world. Why would Santa concern himself with me?” 

“He told me you always left the best cookies he’s ever eaten.” 

Tears sprang into her eyes. “I always thought Daddy ate them. Mama would spend hours in the kitchen baking cookies. I always helped, but I think I was more of a hindrance than a help.” 

“And you never asked for more than you really wanted.” 

“I never really wanted much.” 

“So Santa sent me to cheer you up. The first thing is to go to the Christmas party tonight. Parties raise everyone’s spirits, don’t they?” 

“Look, Jingle—or Alexander. Which should I call you?” 

“Alexander is my real name, but it’s not an elf name. Jingle isn’t a proper name here, is it?” 

“No, it’s not a common nickname.” 

“But I like it when you call me Jingle.” 

“Then it’ll be Alexander in public and Jingle in private. As I was saying, I don’t really want to go to this party.” 

“But I want to go. I’ve never been to a Christmas party.” 

“You don’t have Christmas parties at The North Pole?” 

“I mean, one for humans.” 

“Sometimes they’re not very pleasant. People drink too much and say and do things they usually don’t say or do in front of people they have to work with the rest of the year.” Jingle looked so dejected, Bel gave in much too easily. “All right, we’ll go, but we won’t stay long. The first thing is to get you some clothes.” 

Bel managed to come up with an old pair of Shaun’s jogging pants that didn’t look too short with a pair of boots that had belonged to her father she’d found tucked away in her mother’s closet. The shopping trip went well. It put a large dent in her California Dreamin’ Fund, as she called it, but was well worth the effort. 

Now dressed in a charcoal gray sweater, black jeans, and black boots, with his glossy black hair and startling pale blue eyes, Jingle turned heads when they stopped for something to eat. Even the waitress drooled over him. 

Back at the house, they barely had time to shower and dress, but Bel took her time. Normally, she didn’t bother with make-up, but she’d bought a few things and carefully applied the cosmetics. She pinned her hair up and let little wisps frame her face. 

She wore a silk dress in midnight blue she’d bought several years ago and worn only once. Rick had given her an Austrian crystal jewelry set their first Christmas together. The crystals sparkled brighter than diamonds, and she didn’t have to worry about losing them. Then she raided her mother’s closet again for a sparkly shawl someone had give her years ago, but her mother had never worn. 

When she came into the living room, Jingle was waiting for her. He looked yummy in the black slacks, vest, and jacket, and open-collar white shirt. Bel had a sense of time standing still as they just looked at one another. 

Bel’s breathing quickened and she grew warm all over. They could have a much better time if they stayed home, she thought. She remembered his kisses from the night before, eager, tender yet filled with passion and promise. They had taken her by surprise. 

Now, she wished he would kiss her again with the same spontaneity because she couldn’t imagine taking the initiative, kissing him until their lips hurt, sliding the jacket, vest, shirt, and slacks from his body, raising her arms as he pulled the dress from hers...Well, maybe she could imagine it, but she couldn’t see herself actually doing it. 

Jingle walked toward her and her heart hammered in her chest. But all he did was raise his bent arm to her in an elegant gesture. 

“You look beautiful, Belinda.” 

No man had ever told her that before. Not even Rick when she’d worn this dress before. He had been waiting for her, too, pacing impatiently. When she came into the room, he’d snapped at her that they were going to be late, then charged out the door. Now, she couldn’t even remember where they’d gone that night. 

Why had she put up with his crap for so long? She had known even then why: she was afraid of being alone. 

“Thank you,” she said, tears threatening to ruin her eyes. She blinked them back. “You look nice, too.” 

He smiled, but shrugged and pulled at his collar. “It’s different from the uniform.” 

Bel drove them to the party, and Jingle turned heads once again as they walked into the room. The women ogled, the men frowned. Violet and her husband Dave were the first to approach them. 

“Dave, you remember Belinda Cooper, and this is Alexander...” Violet raised her eyebrows in question. She wanted a surname. Bel glanced at Jingle, but he looked blank. He hadn’t mentioned a last name. Did Christmas elves have last names? 

“Alexander...Elf, um—Elphberg.” Bel pulled the name from a novel she’d read years ago. “Alexander Elphberg, an old friend of my brother’s.” 

The office floozies, Teri and Lori, quickly cornered Jingle, but whenever Bel glanced their way, his blue-white eyes met hers and his gorgeous smile was only for her. 

Bel sipped ginger ale as she mingled. She would be driving and alcohol usually hit her fast and hard. She nibbled at the food, avoiding Violet’s hot-as-hell cheese dip. She’d forgotten to bring anything edible, but no one seemed to notice. 

A couple of hours later, after Jingle had a chance to talk to everyone in the room with Teri and Lori sticking to his sides like Velcro, and she had managed to steer clear of Brad Benson’s slurred innuendoes, Bel pulled Jingle free of the Cling-on warriors, saying she was ready to leave. She was surprised when he immediately agreed. Teri and Lori followed them to the door. 

The cool crisp air was a relief after the stuffy atmosphere of the office. 

At home, Bel showed Jingle her brother’s old room. She had no idea where he’d slept the night before, probably the couch. She changed into silk pajamas and flannel robe, and washed her face free of make-up. She was plain old Belinda A. Cooper again. 

In the kitchen, she put the kettle on. It wasn’t very late, but she’d eaten enough at the party. All she wanted was a cup of coffee and to crash in front of the TV until she fell asleep. Her normal Saturday night routine, which had not been disrupted by Rick’s moving in. Hadn’t he spent every Saturday night with his friends, just as he’d done when they were merely dating? Why had she expected it to be different afterwards? 

The phone rang, startling her. It was Elaine Grogan, whom she’d seen earlier at the party. 

“Hi, Belinda. What a nice young man your friend is.” Elaine was well into her fifties. 

“Alexander, yes, he is nice. He’s an old friend of my brother’s, but had lost touch with him. He didn’t know Shaun had moved away when he showed up here to visit.” 

“So you told me. Alexander and I had a little chat this evening. It was so generous of him to donate twelve dozen cookies to the bake sale we’re holding next week for the Children’s Fund. If y’all could have them at the community center bright and early Monday morning—” 

“Twelve dozen?” Bel asked, disbelief making her voice go up an octave—or two. 

“He said you had a wonderful recipe called Santa’s Favorite.” 

“Yeah.” Bel was at a loss for words. Twelve dozen. 

“If they’re as good as Alexander says they are, they should sell well.” 

“I’m sure they will,” Bel agreed, her voice now at its normal pitch. 

Bel was hanging up the receiver when Alexander joined her in the kitchen. She took a deep breath. 

“That was Elaine Grogan. It seems you and she had an interesting conversation tonight.” 

He had the grace to blush. “I was going to tell you about that. The cookies.” 

“Do you have any idea how long it’s going to take to make twelve dozen cookies?” 

Jingle thought a moment. “No. How long?” 

“You mean you don’t bake?” Bel heard her voice rising again. 

He shook his head. “Mrs. Claus does all the baking at The North Pole. She always has plenty of cookies and fruitcake and strudel on hand for all of us elves.” 

“But these have to be made by Monday morning. It’s been years since I baked cookies. I’m not even sure which cookies I set out for Santa. Mama always did lots of baking for Christmas.” Bel plopped down in a chair and buried her head in her arms. “It will take all day.” 

“Did you have anything else planned for tomorrow?” 

“No.” 

“Then you have plenty of time.” 

She raised her head and glared at him. Jingle was grinning broadly. “You mean,” she growled, “we have plenty of time. Get ready for your first lesson in baking cookies!” 



  

December 20 

  

Bel poured over her mother’s handwritten recipes and decided sugar cookies were the easiest to make. Sprinkled with red and green sugar, they would easily pass for Santa’s Favorites. 

The baking wasn’t as bad as Bel had anticipated. And as long as one didn’t count the three or four dozen they’d either burned or forgot to add the sugar—or both—mistakes were minimal. By late afternoon, they had more than twelve dozen Santa’s Favorites cookies layered with waxed paper in various boxes and tins Bel found around the house. She had made three trips to the store because she’d underestimated how many batches they would ruin. Then Jingle decided they needed to bake a few extra dozen for themselves. 

Bel had to admit Jingle did a wonderful job of helping, but then weren’t Christmas elves experts at being “helpers”? Of course, he had started the flour fight, and they’d both wound up covered in white and laughing until their sides hurt. 

As they went about their mixing, rolling, and cutting, Jingle had told her about his life at The North Pole—how all the other elves either ridiculed or shunned him because he was different, that he’d chosen the elven name Jingle for himself when they made fun of the human name Alexander, and when he at last realized Tinsel the elfess would never return his feelings. Bel felt honored that he would share so much of himself with her. 

She told him she knew what it was like to feel lonely in a crowd, too. But it was of her own making, wasn’t it? She had never volunteered to bake cookies when Elaine Grogan began her seasonal plans for the Children’s Fund. Elaine campaigned all year long, but the closer it was to Christmas, the more generous people were. She always had fund-raising projects planned for the last few days before Christmas. 

Christmas, Bel mused, opened everyone’s heart more...except her own. 

After she showered off the flour and slipped into bed, Bel grudgingly admitted Jingle’s idea hadn’t been too bad. She was exhausted and fell asleep quickly, sleeping the entire night through. 



  

December 21 

  

Bel woke early. Her arms and hands were sore from all the stirring the day before, but as she dressed, the aches eased somewhat. She wondered if Jingle was up yet. She stopped at the door to her brother’s old room and knocked, then again. When Jingle didn’t answer, she opened the door. The bed was neatly made, and she wondered if he’d even slept in it. He had promised to finish cleaning the kitchen when she’d gone to bed. 

Bel closed the door and continued down the hall. When she entered the living room, she stepped into a winter wonderland. 

Every table and shelf surface had been cleared of the everyday knickknacks and covered in twinkling, sparkling holiday decoration. Boughs and garlands of pine, dotted with gilded and glittered cones and festooned with red and white and gold bows, draped across the walls and mantle, windows and doorways. A huge wreath, stuffed with candy canes and ready to be hung, leaned near the front door. 

In the center of the room, amid a snowscape of cotton on the cherry wood coffee table, sat the most beautiful nativity scene she’d ever seen. All the fancy crystal ornaments and expertly tied bows paled in comparison. 

Bel dropped to her knees to examine the crèche. Each small board of the stable had been fastened individually to the frame. Every fold in Mary’s and Joseph’s robes and baby Jesus’ swaddling cloth had been painstakingly detailed. Three shepherds herded a small flock of sheep, every curl of wool carefully carved, and three wisemen, bearing intricately cut coffers, sat on tasseled rugs atop their camels. An angel, every feather visible in her wings, hovered near a delicate star. 

Bel almost expected the angel to take flight at any second, the star to shine its beacon on the manger, and the other pieces to move, playing out that magical night so long ago. She reached out, meaning to pick up a piece and examine it more closely. 

Then Bel realized what made them lifelike, and she withdrew her hand in amazement. Different shades of wood had been used, sometimes many on one little statue. The star was created using a mixture of a dozen or more light colored woods. The swaddling cloth was entirely made of near-white wood. The beards and hair on every one was made of shades of brown and black. Looking even closer, Bel saw that each tiny iris was individually made from brown woods. 

“It’s all right,” Jingle said from behind her. He lifted a shepherd and placed it in her hand. “You can look at them. They were made to be touched.” 

Bel ran her hand over the statue, the finish as smooth as silk. She squinted to see minuscule slivers of gray wood embedded in the brown wood beard and hair. Fine wrinkles were carved into the corners of his eyes, giving him a weathered appearance. Tiny toes peeked out from the edge of his robe, a darker shade of brown sandal strap across the foot. The detail was incredible. 

“Where did you get this?” 

Jingle shrugged. “I made it.” 

“You made it? When?” 

“That’s the work I do at The North Pole. Number Seven is the woodworking shop. Children these days don’t care for old-fashioned wooden toys, so we make other things too. This is the first nativity I made. I brought it along with me, along with the decoration.” His arm swept to the side, and Bel looked at the over-decorated room. She carefully set the shepherd in his place among the sheep. 

“But where did you have them? You were unconscious when you fell off the roof into the rock garden.” 

“In one of Santa’s bags.” He found the little red tote bag and showed it to her. Bel remembered seeing it tied to his waist. 

“You had all of this in that?” 

Jingle nodded. “No one knows how they work, but that’s how Santa carries all the toys.” 

Bel nodded. It wasn’t her place to question the magic of Christmas. “It must have taken you a long time to carve these pieces and put together the stable.” 

Jingle shrugged. “Not very long. I finished this in half a day.” 

Bel laughed. “Yeah, but a ‘day’ is like six months at The North Pole, right?” 

“I meant a work day. Elves work very quickly. I have some more things I thought I’d donate for the Children’s Fund.” 

Jingle started pulling out more wooden items from the little red bag. One was a beautiful lantern with wooden flames licking upward from a half-burned candle with wax dripping down its side, all carved from a single block of wood. Others followed, each as extraordinarily detailed as the next. Bel was overwhelmed. 

Jingle pointed to the last two—a miniature sleigh pulled by eight tiny reindeer with rows of jingle bells on the harness straps and a twelve inch tall pine tree decorated with the tiniest ornaments and candy canes, ropes of popcorn and berries, and lighted candles attached to the ends of branches. Bel ran her hand over the tree, each needle carved in exacting detail and sanded smooth. 

“I just made these. I found the workshop out back yesterday when I was looking for a chair to sunbathe in. I hope you don’t mind.” 

“You-You made these last night? Jingle, that’s impossible!” 

He looked hurt. “I told you, elves work quickly.” 

“I’m sorry. It’s not that I doubt you, it’s just that...” She took a deep breath. “Each one of these things would take months, maybe years for a human to make, even if he was a master woodworker. It’s just hard for me to understand. But they’re all beautiful. They should bring in a lot of money for the Children’s Fund.” 

He seemed pleased at the prospect that his wooden carvings would help. “Do you really think so?” 

“Yes, I really think so.” Bel set aside the tree. “The workshop was my dad’s. He liked to tinker around out there, building things, but he never made anything like this. He would make shelves and tables for Mama and us. Sometimes he’d sell things, but it was more of a hobby for him. Shaun kept up the shop until he moved to California. I haven’t been out there since I stored the grill and lawn furniture late last summer.” 

“Then you don’t mind that I used it?” 

“Of course not, Jingle. Use it as long as you like.” 

“Only until Christmas Eve. That’s when Santa will come for me,” he quietly reminded her. 

“Oh,” Bel said and stood. 

His words were as painful as a swift kick to her stomach. Jingle was her Christmas elf. No reason for him to stick around after the holiday was over. Santa had made a special trip to drop Jingle off on her roof, but it only made sense Santa would pick up Jingle as he made his rounds on Christmas Eve—only three days away. Three very short days if they passed as quickly as the last few. 

“Well,” Bel said, unable to imagine life without Jingle. “We’d better get your things and the cookies over to the community center.” Then she glanced around at the abundance of holiday cheer in the room. “When we get back, we have to have a little chat about decorating.” 

Elaine and the others who were helping at the center were stunned by the beautiful pieces Bel and Jingle pulled out of the carefully packed boxes. They would have been speechless had Jingle brought the little Santa bag that defied space and gravity. One woman bought the lantern on the spot. Bel and Jingle stayed until mid-afternoon, after all the baked goods were gone and Jingle’s crafts had all sold. 

As Bel and Jingle headed out the door empty-handed, Lillian Vandell called after Jingle. 

“Don’t forget! Tomorrow night at 5:30.” 

“A date?” Bel asked with raised brow as they headed for the car. 

“We’re going caroling tomorrow night.” 

“Oh, we are?” 

“Yes, it’ll be fun,” Jingle said, smiling his gorgeous smile that was only for her. 

Bel didn’t have the heart to dampen his enthusiasm. “Loads of fun,” she agreed, keeping the sarcasm to a minimum. 



  

December 22 

  

A blustery cold front moved in overnight and Bel awoke to thickly frosted windowpanes. She and Jingle rearranged the decoration in the living room, spreading it out over other rooms in the house. She left the nativity scene on the coffee table. 

After lunch, they went shopping again. If Jingle insisted on caroling in the colder weather, he needed a coat, gloves, scarf, and cap. They also bought groceries. Bel was running out of everything because she hadn’t counted on feeding an extra person for a week. 

Before going to bed the night before, Bel had planned a special menu. Since Jingle wouldn’t be with her on Christmas Day, it would have to be Christmas Eve. His farewell dinner, Bel thought miserably, tears blurring the shopping list she’d made. 

Bel had to dig deeper into her California Dreamin’ Fund, but she didn’t really mind. Instead of visiting her brother and his family next spring as she’d planned, she’d go next Christmas. She didn’t think she could ever bear another Christmas alone in the house again. Too many memories of Jingle would remain. 

She couldn’t understand how important he had become in the few days he had been in her life. 

They brought the last of the purchases into the kitchen on a gust of frigid air. Bel stumbled in and dropped her bags. 

“My fingers are numb!” Of course, she had forgotten her gloves. She blew on her hands, trying to warm them up. 

Jingle set down the bags he carried and closed the door. He reached out and took her hands in his. He hadn’t put on his gloves yet, but his skin was warm next to hers. 

“You’re not even cold.” 

“I’m used to colder weather than this,” he said, rubbing his hands briskly over hers. 

This close to him, touching him, heated her all over, from the inside out. When he cupped his hands around hers and blew his warm breath on her fingers, she automatically snatched them away. She cleared her throat. 

“I’m fine.” 

“No, you’re not,” Jingle said and lay a hand on her cheek. “Your skin is cold and it shouldn’t be.” 

She didn’t feel cold, not now. She’d kept as far away from his as possible while living in the same house with him the last few days. His kisses were too tempting— 

As if he’d read her thoughts, his lips closed over hers, catching her by surprise. She responded naturally, her arms easing around his neck. He held her close to him, deepening the kiss, and she melted inside. She allowed herself only a few moments of the pleasure. Any longer and she wouldn’t be able to say no. 

Bel broke free of the kiss. She nuzzled against him, reveling in the feel of his lips against hers, then she looked up into his blue-white eyes. 

“This isn’t a good idea,” she said. 

“It feels like a good idea to me.” Jingle smiled and touched her cheek again. 

Her hand covered his and she pressed her lips against the tips of his fingers. “But it’s not a good idea,” she murmured. 

“Why?” 

Because he’d be gone by Christmas, but she wouldn’t tell him that. He didn’t belong in her world, nor she in his. The best thing she could do was pretend he’d restored her faith in Christmas so he could return to The North Pole satisfied he had accomplished his mission. Then she could get on with her life as empty as it was. 

“Because we have too much to do.” Bel said and pulled away from him. She lifted a bag to the counter and began taking out canned goods. “We have to put these away and get ready to go caroling. And please don’t let anyone talk you into participating in any more festivities. I’ve had about as much Christmas spirit as I can stand.” 

“You haven’t had fun the past few days?” Jingle asked warily. 

Bel bit her lip. So much for pretending she was happy. She would have to do better. She plastered a bright smile on her face. 

“Of course I have!” she said a little too eagerly. She toned it down. “Really, it’s been fun. The office party wasn’t as much of a drag as I’d thought it’d be. And I’m glad I helped at the community center. I’ll probably do more volunteer work there. The caroling will be fun tonight. Too bad the weather didn’t hold until afterwards.” 

Secretly, she was glad the weather had turned. The caroling would be cut short because of the bitter cold. It might be cancelled. She would call Lillian after they’d put up the groceries and find out. 

Unfortunately, the caroling was still on, but the route had been shortened because of the colder weather. Bel made the best of it. The good thing was that some people offered them hot cocoa or hot Dr Pepper and lemon. It helped warm them up, but Bel was in painful need of a bathroom by the time they started for home. Jingle fell in love with the hot Dr Pepper and lemon and made Bel stop by a store and get some. 

Back at home, after a quick supper of sandwiches, Bel showed Jingle how to make hot Dr Pepper and lemon. She popped in a tape of Christmas in Connecticut, one of her favorite holiday movies, as they sipped the hot, fragrant drink. Watching with someone who enjoyed it as much as she did was wonderful. 

“A Christmas tree!” Jingle said when it came to the part in the movie where Barbara Stanwyck decorated the tree while Dennis Morgan played the piano and sang—one of Bel’s favorite moments in the movie. “We need a tree.” 

Bel had to admit he was right. With the house decorated, a tree would be the final touch. 

“All right,” Bel agreed. “We’ll get one tomorrow.” 

She was rewarded with one of Jingle’s gorgeous smiles. 



  

December 23 

  

The next day was just as cold and blustery. After lunch, they went in search of the perfect tree. 

Jingle rejected all the trees everywhere they went. It was nearly dark by the time they found a place on the highway. Jingle carefully examined every tree. At last, he found the one he wanted. It looked a little lop-sided to Bel, but she wasn’t going to argue. 

They carried the six-footer into the house and put it in the stand Bel had dug out of the utility room before they left. Jingle turned on the radio and Christmas music played softly in the background as they took their time getting it perfectly straight. With the uneven side toward the window, it was a pretty tree. 

“Where’s your little red bag?” Bel asked as soon as Jingle was satisfied with the placement of the tree. 

Jingle looked up at her. “Why?” 

“To decorate it, of course.” 

“I didn’t bring any decoration for the tree.” 

“You brought all the other decoration. I thought you’d have some for the tree.” 

“Don’t you have decoration for the tree, Belinda?” 

“Yes,” she said. “In the utility room, where the stand was.” 

“Why don’t you get them?” he asked, but she felt like she was being pushed into something she didn’t want to do. 

She couldn’t tell him she hadn’t touched the Christmas tree decoration in the five years since her mother died. The first Christmas was much too soon. Bel was still in mourning. Even Shaun hadn’t decorated his house much for Christmas. The second year was Bel and Rick’s first Christmas together, and she was always at his place. After that, it was almost as if she was trying to see how long she could hold out. 

“Okay,” she said at last and retrieved the boxes. 

The first box was marked “Lights” in her mother’s scrawl. Most of the dozen strands worked, and they carefully wound them around the branches. The other two boxes were simply marked “Decoration”. Bel opened one. 

Inside were ropes of garland and all the handmade ornaments Shaun and she had made while in school—clothespin reindeer, cotton ball snowmen, and paper snowflakes. Bel laughed as she told Jingle which were Shaun’s and which were hers. Most of Shaun’s were crooked or only half-finished. They hung the ornaments on the tree as Bel told Jingle stories about Christmases when she was little. 

In the last box were her mother’s ornament collection. She had collected ornaments the same way she collected rocks. 

“No matter where we went, Mama couldn’t pass a gift shop without buying an ornament or a parking lot without picking up a rock. I remember Daddy teasing her mercilessly about both, but she would just laugh.” 

Unwrapping the ornaments, Bel felt tears prick her eyes. They brought back memories of the sound of her mother’s voice as she told the story of where she’d gotten them. Bel couldn’t remember them all, but she told Jingle the ones she could recall. 

When the last ornament was hung, they tossed handfuls of icicles into the tree until the tip of every branch was laced with silver strands. Then Bel turned off the overhead light and Jingle plugged in the tree lights. 

The room filled with a soft twinkling glow, and Bel stared at the tree. She remembered Christmases past when her life was filled with family and fun. And Christmases present when it was all she could do to get through the season without sinking into depression. And Christmases future? 

She could imagine Jingle staying here with her. He could use the workshop and sell his extraordinary wooden crafts to earn a living. There could be laugher and fun in her future, if only... 

Jingle was handing her a cup of hot cocoa. She blinked and took it. Christmases future would be without Jingle. He was leaving Christmas Eve, tomorrow night. Would he stay if she asked? The words were on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t get them out. She sipped cocoa instead. Jingle turned off the Christmas music, and she put on a tape of Holiday Inn. 



  

December 24 

Christmas Eve 

  

Bel spent the afternoon cooking. After lunch, she shooed Jingle out of the kitchen and told him she was best left alone. She could only hope dinner would turn out well. She hadn’t really cooked in a long time, relying on fast food and frozen dinners for far too long. 

It was late when she called Jingle in to get dressed for dinner. She had meant for them to have an early dinner, but everything took longer to prepare than she thought. She had spread the dining table with white linen and used the good china. She had just struck a match to light the candles when Jingle came in. He was dressed in his elf uniform. Bel froze and the flame went out. 

Jingle saw the look on her face and self-consciously tugged on his tunic. “I know it doesn’t fit right, but I thought I might as well wear it. Santa comes tonight.” 

A knot of pain tied in her stomach. Santa would come tonight to take Jingle away, not leave anything beneath her tree. It wasn’t fair! Angrily, she struck another match. Jingle was her Christmas elf. Santa had given him to her. Why was he taking him away? Santa wasn’t supposed to take back presents! 

Bel knew she was being unreasonable. Jingle wasn’t a toy or scarf or piece of jewelry. He was a person, even if he was an elf. He couldn’t be given to her to keep, not really. Just like Cinderella couldn’t keep her fairy godmother or—or...She was babbling to herself and that wasn’t good. 

“Are you all right?” Jingle asked, walking around the table toward her. 

“Yes, I’m fine.” Bel walked away from him, around the other side of the table, to lay the matches on the sideboard. “Please sit and we can eat. I hope you like it. I don’t really cook much, so this was an experiment.” 

They sat and ate. Jingle complimented her on how good the food was. Bel thought he was humoring her because everything was as tasteless as straw to her. She nibbled and listened to Jingle trying to make small-talk, but gave monosyllabic responses. She was ruining their last day together, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She didn’t want him to go. She didn’t want to be alone again. No, it was more than just not wanting to be alone. She didn’t want to lose Jingle. 

“When will he be here?” She blurted out the question suddenly, interrupting Jingle. But he knew whom she was talking about. 

“Sometime during the evening. I’m not sure when.” 

He threw down his napkin and Bel took that as a sign he was through. So much for a cozy, candlelit dinner for two, she thought as she began clearing away dishes. Jingle helped her. 

“I’m not looking forward to telling Santa that I failed,” he said as they placed the dirty dishes in the sink. 

Guilt washed over Bel. She had forgotten she was supposed to pretend to be full of Christmas spirit. But how could she even pretend when her Christmas elf would be leaving? She turned on the faucet to fill the sink with water. 

“You didn’t fail,” she said and squirted dishwashing liquid under the rush of water. “I’ve had more fun this Christmas than I have in a while. I’m glad you came and made me do Christmasy things. I know I’m not bubbling over with holiday joy, but I’m a little out of practice. Santa will know, won’t he? He’ll know I’m trying.” 

Jingle sighed in relief. “Yes, he’ll know.” 

They washed dishes and put away the food. Jingle made them hot Dr Pepper and lemon and asked what movie Bel planned for this evening. The evening wasn’t going as she thought it should, but she didn’t know how to get it on track. She couldn’t bring herself to ask him to stay. He hadn’t indicated he wanted to stay. 

Bel put on A Christmas Carol with Alistair Sim, which she liked better than the old black and white 30’s version. She couldn’t concentrate on the movie, was conscious of every second ticking by. The movie ended too quickly and it was ten o’clock. Two hours till midnight and Christmas Day. Tears burned her eyes. She excused herself and left the room. In her bedroom, she changed into a silk nightgown and flannel robe, tears spilling down her face. She washed her face, not wanting Jingle to see that she’d been crying. 

Back in the living room, with only the twinkling Christmas tree lights on, instrumental Christmas songs played softly in the background. Jingle stood in front of the tree. She had taken no pictures of him! She quelled the urge to run for her camera. To have pictures to look at for the rest of her life but knowing she’d never see him again was unthinkable. She would carry Jingle in her heart. 

Bel crossed the room to stand beside him. 

“I thought you’d gone to bed without saying good-bye,” he said. 

“I’d never do that. I’ll wait here with you.” She paused a moment. “I’m going to miss you.” 

It was an opening, a way to let him know how important he had become to her without laying open her heart. If he chose, he could make the first move, say he would stay a while longer or at least ask her if she wanted him to stay. She watched him expectantly, his pale eyes twinkling with the glow of the tree lights. 

“I’ll miss you, too, Bel,” he said taking a step toward her. Then she was in his arms, looking up at him. She was ready to accept what he could give her—this one night. 

Jingle kissed her, tentatively at first his full, warm lips claiming hers. When Bel didn’t pull away or make excuses but closed her eyes and readily accepted him, he drew her into his arms, deepening the kiss. 

Bel tilted her head back and raked one hand through the thick waves of his hair, her fingers brushing his ear. He had made a sound of ecstasy deep in his throat when she’d fondled the tip that first night. Now, she found the point and stroked it, swirling her fingers over the strange, exotic peak. That same deep moan rumbled in his throat and his hips surged toward hers. She met him thrust for thrust, each contact sending a thrill through her. 

“Is this a good idea now?” Jingle asked against her lips, his voice raw and husky. 

“Yes. Yes, a very good idea,” Bel whispered. He certainly felt adequately equipped, but she didn’t know a thing about elf anatomy. “Do elves make love the same way humans do?” 

“Uh-huh,” he murmured. 

“Oh, good.” She slipped her hand between their bodies, cupping the hot bulge she found. She massaged him gently but firmly and was rewarded when he grew longer, larger, harder. 

Time to get off their feet and on her back, Bel thought. She felt as if she could climb him right there, wrap her legs around him, and just do it—if clothes weren’t in the way and the laws of physics didn’t apply. 

Bel tossed back her head and Jingled kissed along her throat, moving lower until he’d reached the top of her breasts. He pushed aside the bodice of her nightgown until one breast was free and it filled his hand. His head dipped lower, his mouth surrounding the nipple, his tongue caressing the hard peak. His other hand found her other breast, thumb brushing the nipple until it was a hard nub, and the intense sensations weakened her knees. The silk nightgown seemed to melt away as the heat of his hand branded her skin. Bel’s body arched toward him, desire cascading through her. She wanted him, wanted him more than she’d ever wanted any man or elf. He eased the nightie down until it fell free, a cool silken puddle around her feet. It wasn’t quite fair that she was naked and Jingle fully clothed. She groped for the points of his tunic and started pulling up. 

He lifted his head and looked at her, and his blue-white eyes now darker with desire. He raised his arms and she stripped him of the over-large garment, baring the hardbody she’d been trying to ignore. Dropping the tunic, she ran her hands over the smooth muscles, brushing fingertips over nipples that drew taut at her touch. She moved in closer to trail kisses from the center of his chest to the hollow of his throat. Her fingers hooked in the waistband of his pants and pushed down over slim hips and the bulge that had grown incredibly. Baggy elfsuits hid everything well. She couldn’t resist trailing a kiss along one thigh. 

Jingle wove his fingers into her hair and gently pulled her upright again. He stepped out of pants and shoes, then his lips met hers hungrily. He swept her up, one arm catching behind her knees. His warm skin felt silken next to hers and she sighed contentedly as their lips parted. 

His pale eyes caressed her. “I want you, Belinda.” 

She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Laugh at his stating the obvious. Or cry because no man had ever looked at her in such a tender way or said he wanted her and sounded as if he meant it with everything in him. Certainly, no man had ever swept her off her feet—literally. She did neither. Jingle wouldn’t understand either reaction. 

Instead, she smiled and ran a fingertip over his lips. “I want you, too.” 

“Are you sure? You’ve always turned away from me before.” He sounded doubtful. 

Bel feared he would set her on her feet and refuse to quench the fire he’d started within her. Tonight was her last night with him and she wanted it all. She brushed the hair away from his ear, trailing a finger along the peak and watched as his eyes closed and his expression mellowed with pleasure. 

“The timing wasn’t right,” she leaned close and murmured into his ear. “And now it is. I want you, Jingle.” 

Her tongue took over and traced up to the point, then down again. Then she took the point into her mouth and suckled gently. Jingle’s grip tightened around her, and he groaned. She turned his head and lavished the same attention on his other ear. She could feel his knees giving out beneath him, weakened by the passion she stirred in him. 

Jingle carried her across the room and lay her on the broad sofa, her head and shoulders amid throw pillows. He joined her, lying by her side, his long limbs surrounding her. 

They kissed and touched, exploring one another’s bodies in the blinking lights of the Christmas tree. She tried to watch him in the ever-changing shadows, tried to read beyond his desire for her, but then he would caress her and make her gasp and lose all thought except that she wanted him to do it again or probe deeper or move faster. 

By the time she had learned every curve of his supple body and he had discovered the places she liked to be touched, she quivered with need. His shaft was rigid and tremulous where it lay across her thigh. She grasp his length and stroked it. His hips undulated with the rhythm. His hand left her breasts and slid over her ribs and belly, fingers tangling in the patch of curls. Her legs automatically parted and she writhed against his delving fingers. Tingles of pleasure danced over her skin as he swirled around that most sensitive place, then plunged inside her, swirled and plunged, again and again. His mouth captured the sounds escaping her throat, as her body trembled with the release and she cried out. When the tremors in her body stopped and she relaxed, he withdrew his hand and moved over her. Her legs spread wide to accommodate his hips. 

He thrust into her slick wetness gently, slowly, and she felt every inch of him enter her deeply. She wrapped her legs around him and he settled against her. 

“You feel so good,” he murmured and gathered her into his arms. 

“So do you,” she said on a sigh. “I think I wanted this from the moment you kissed me in the rock garden, even when I thought you were a burglar. Or my imagination.” 

His sensuous lips turned up in a smile. “I made my usual clumsy entrance that night. I was supposed to come down the chimney.” 

Bel wriggled against him. “Well, you didn’t make a clumsy entrance tonight.” 

He pulled out until only the tip of him touched her. “Can I try it again, just to make sure?” 

“Of course. Try as many times as you like. Practice makes perfect, y’know.” Bel nudged toward him for encouragement. 

Jingle took the hint and slid into her again. They found the rocking rhythm that felt best, and Jingle cradled his head on her shoulder, their bodies wrapped together like a small Christmas package. 

Bel closed her eyes. She didn’t think of how this would be their only night together and Jingle would be gone soon, whisked away by a sleigh, back to The North Pole where he belonged. No, he belonged here with her. 

She’d actually fallen in love with her Christmas elf. Thank you, Santa, for making my Christmas wishes come true...but how can you take him away again? It was too late to write a letter to Santa, asking him to let Jingle stay. 

How could she let him go? she thought for the thousandth time. But how could she beg him to stay? 

Thoughts drifted away and the sensations inside her consumed her. Their movements came faster and faster until the sofa beneath them groaned for relief. Then the pleasure burst inside her and spread warmly through her limbs. Her back arched and she ground her hips against his, making it last as long as possible, until she could feel her toes again. 

Jingle sprinkled kisses along her cheeks and lips. “Did it feel good?” 

She nodded, breathless, unable to speak. She had grown used to his way of commenting on the obvious with complete sincerity. 

He raised above her, head thrown back and back bowed, straining into her with short, hard thrusts. Then he stiffened and everything seemed to drain from him at once. He draped limply over her, mostly lying to the side to keep his weight off her. His breathing was labored. 

Bel reached up and touched his cheek, brushing aside glossy strands of hair. He opened his eyes, pale blue-white almost glowing in the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. 

“Did you feel good, too?” 

“Yes, very good. Better than I’ve ever felt.” 

“I’m glad I made you feel good,” Bel whispered. I’m going to miss you, she wanted to say. I don’t want you to go. Please stay. Even after their intimacy, she couldn’t say the words. Instead, she nestled in the crook of his arm as he covered them with the blanket that lay over the back of the sofa. 

She put her arm around his waist and lay her head on his chest. Maybe if she held him tight enough, Santa wouldn’t be able to take him away. 

Bel felt him place a kiss on her forehead and his hand fondled her hair. She meant to remain awake until Santa came, but cuddled in the comfort of his arms, she drifted off to sleep. 

  

* * * * * 

  

The noise on the roof woke Jingle. Belinda was snuggled close to his side. Her dark brown hair lay in a spray over his shoulder and across his chest. One arm hugged him, her body half over his, their legs entwined. He didn’t want to move away from her, but it was time. 

Easing away from her, he stood as she shifted and murmured in her sleep. Gently, Jingle brushed wisps of hair from her face, and she settled into the warmth he’d left behind. 

He put on his pants and shoes. Just as he turned, Santa magically appeared from the chimney flue without singeing a whisker. 

“Alexander!” Santa spoke softly, his eyes twinkling as he looked from Jingle to Bel and back to Jingle again. He tugged on his snow-white beard. 

“Merry Christmas, Santa,” Jingle greeted him, unsure how to tell him. “How is the trip going tonight?” 

“Very good, very good. The new reindeer are flying smoothly.” Santa paused. “And how have you been this past week?” 

“Everything went well.” 

Santa looked around the room. “The decoration is festive. Did you succeed in raising Belinda’s Christmas spirit?” 

“Yes, I think I did. It’ll take time, but I think Belinda will celebrate Christmas from now on.” 

“Yes, I believe you’re right.” Santa tugged his beard again. “Is there something you want to tell me, Alexander?” 

Jingle nodded, still reluctant to tell Santa of his decision. 

“Out with it, lad. I can’t help you if you don’t ask.” 

Jingle drew in a deep breath and took the plunge. “I want to stay! Here, they call me Alexander and no one laughs. No one ignores me or ridicules me. Everyone accepts me as I am. Bel’s friends are now my friends—or they will be when we’ve had more time. And Bel...” 

“And?” Santa prompted. 

“I don’t want to leave her. She knows exactly what I am and she still—” He broke off as he felt his face grow warm, remembering what they’d done before Santa arrived. 

“You’re a Christmas elf.” Santa sighed heavily. “You know it’s against the rules for any of the Christmas elves to leave Christmastown.” 

“I know, but I’ve never been accepted there. And I’ve certainly never been happy, not since my mother returned to the Elfland.” Jingle drew in another deep breath and with it the courage to continue speaking. “I’ve never asked you for anything, Santa, not even a uniform that fit. But I am asking you to allow me to stay here with Belinda. It’s the only Christmas wish I’ve ever had.” 

“If I allow it, there’s no going back,” Santa pointed out gravely. “If you stay, you can never return to Christmastown.” 

“I understand,” Jingle said just as solemnly. “I’ll miss you and Mrs. Claus, but it’s what I want.” 

Santa stroked his beard as he considered the request. Jingle knew that even if Santa refused, he would not return. He had asked as a mere courtesy, out of respect for Santa. 

“Very well, Alexander. If it’s truly what you want—” 

“It is,” Jingle answered firmly. 

“We’ll miss you, the Missus and I, but maybe it is for the best.” Santa clapped him on the shoulders. “I hope you find here what you’ve been looking for your whole life.” 

Jingle returned the embrace. “I don’t think I’ve been searching for anything except acceptance. I’ve already found that here. Now, I just want a chance at a life with Bel.” 

“Good luck, lad.” 

“Thank you, Santa. Give my love to Mrs. Claus, and tell her thank you for everything.” 

Jingle watched as Santa magically disappeared up the chimney with “Merry Christmas! Ho, ho, ho!” fading in the distance. 

A few seconds later, Jingle heard a clatter of hoofbeats on the roof, the tinkling of bells, and then silence. He turned to look at Bel. 

He felt better than he had in a very long time. The only other time he’d ever been happy was with his mother, and that time was tainted with her melancholy. Twilight hadn’t been happy, and he could never get her to tell him why. 

Never seeing Santa or Mrs. Claus again made him sad, but he felt relief at never having to face Tinsel or Zap or any of the others. A chance for happiness with Bel was all he wanted. 

He shed the shoes and ill-fitting pants and tried to slip back into place beside Bel without waking her. She stirred, looking up at him sleepily as she snuggled against him. 

“Santa hasn’t come yet?” she asked around a yawn. 

Jingle ran his hand over her shoulder. “He came, but I...I told him I didn’t want to go back.” 

Bel sat up quickly, a hopeful expression on her face. “And?” 

“And Santa agreed.” 

“Oh, Jingle!” She threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. 

He released a sigh of relief. “Then you don’t mind?” 

She shook her head against him. “I wanted to ask you to stay, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t even know if you wanted to stay. I don’t know what I would have done if you’d left.” 

Jingle drew the blanket up closer, then wrapped his arms around her. “I don’t know if there’s a future for us, but I knew I couldn’t walk away from it.” 

“I think if you had, I would have booked the next trip to The North Pole to find you.” 

The clock on the mantle softly chimed twelve times. 

“Merry Christmas,” Jingle whispered after the last one, and nibbled at her ear lobe. 

Bel laughed and her fingers deftly traced the point of one ear. “Merry Christmas, Jingle.” 

For Bel and Jingle, it was a very merry Christmas and a very good night. 



  

December 25 
Christmastown, The North Pole 
Christmas Day 
 

  

Santa Claus gratefully sank into the comfortable overstuffed chair in his private study and pulled the snowglobe toward him. Mrs. Claus set a tray on the table and settled in the other chair. 

“How was this year’s trip, dear?” 

“The best ever!” Santa gave his standard reply as he took the cup of Special Reindeer Milk from his wife. He took a swallow and sighed with satisfaction. She had spiked it with a double shot of rum, just the way he liked it. She usually added peppermint schnapps to hers. 

“Any problem with the new reindeer?” 

Santa shook his head. “They worked as well with the others as if they’d been doing it for years.” 

“Splendid!” Then Mrs. Claus peered over her spectacles at him. “Are you sure Alexander is happy?” 

“He chose to stay, didn’t he? I think the human world will treat him better than the elves ever did.” 

Mrs. Claus smiled. “I hope so. Alexander had an incredibly difficult time trying to fit in here. Do you think he knows?” 

“That he’s half human? No, I don’t think it ever crossed his mind.” 

“Perhaps it’s best he never finds out.” Mrs. Claus set her empty cup on the tray. She looked at Santa, a twinkle in her eye, as she took off her spectacles and removed the pins from her hair. 

A cloud of silver-white tumbled to her shoulders and down her back. Santa quickly drained the last of his Special Reindeer Milk. This was his favorite part of their post-Christmas ritual. She stood and took him by the hand, pulling him to his feet. “Are you very tired after your long trip?” 

Santa smiled wickedly and tugged on his beard. “Not very. What do you have in mind, my little snowflake?” 

“Oh, I think it’s time to give you your Christmas present,” she said in a low, seductive voice that made him as hard as an icicle. She reached up on tiptoe to kiss him hungrily, tasting sweetly of Special Reindeer Milk and peppermint. Then she took him by the hand and started leading him from the study. “I’m going to give you a night to remember. If you ask nicely...but you have to remember to be naughty.” 

Santa would remember. After all, night at the North Pole lasted until spring, he thought happily as he followed her to their bedroom.