Yes, its 6 weeks after Christmas, but it took me time to figure out how to post on FF. I'm still unsure about chapters, so the best chapter, #2, will come soon...I hope. Thank you LilyGhost for your help getting me started here. And of course, thank you to JE for these wonderful characters.

What was I thinking? Bringing Christmas gifts to children in the homeless shelter sounded so simple. What I didn't expect was the Merry Men's generosity. I was now buried under toys, clothing, and food with only days to get everything wrapped and arranged for delivery.

Tank, all 6'6" and rock hard muscles walked in to the chaos. "Need help wrapping?"

I said eagerly, "Yes please." I couldn't wait to see how his massive hands would wrap the gifts. Could he hold scissors? Did he have the dexterity to wrap gifts? Personally my wrapped gifts were looking a bit sloppy, my hands were covered in paper cuts and I had sealing tape caught in my hair.

My mouth fell open as he expertly rolled out the paper, cut it evenly with his knife, centered the gift box and made crisp folds and tight corners. I was mesmerized as he measured ribbon from the roll and with magical hand movements formed a giant bow.

"How do you do that?" I asked.

"Excuse me?" Tank looked up distracted.

"Where did you learn to do that?"

He smiled, "I could tell you it is the same as folding a parachute, but actually I did holiday gift wrapping at a mall in college."

My eyes opened wide, "Gift wrapping, college?"

"Sure, I graduated from college unlike some Rutgers dropout. I worked odd jobs for spending money. You think Ranger keeps me around for my beautiful face? "

"No, Ranger keeps you around so he has someone to beat up in the gym. Where did you go to school?"

"That, Baby Girl, is a secret. I don't want to ruin my image."

"Which image?" I asked.

"Rough tough guy," he growled jokingly. That is exactly the image I had of him. It took me years to realize he was tame and could speak more than four words at a time.

"Why did you go into the Army?

"I wasn't ready for the corporate world, wanted to see the world."

"And did you?"

"Sure every cesspool on four continents," he murmured and shook his head.

"Now here you are at Rangeman," I stated.

"Ranger and I are perfect, one is handsome and the other smart. Bet you didn't know Ranger was so smart?" he winked.

I was taken aback by his openness and playful nature. Did someone slip him some happy pills or was it the holiday season?

Soon we were joined by Raphael and Tico, a new Rangeman employee and the unwrapped gifts quickly became wrapped. Tank, the logistics expert, began arranging the gifts for delivery.

Bobby and I were assigned to deliver gifts to a school with many poverty level kids. In my research I was saddened by the growing poverty in our area. Jobs and opportunities were fast disappearing.

The December grey day was giving was to twilight and the temperatures were dropping as we took the gifts into the school counselor's office. Two children stood by watching.

"What's ya doin'?" asked the girl about age ten, dressed in a thin coat, with no leg coverings, hat or gloves. I was cold looking at her.

"Delivering supplies to Mrs. Morrison," I told her.

The little boy around seven years old, wearing a well-worn hooded sweatshirt, no gloves, torn-knee pants and old red sneakers said, "They look like Christmas gifts."

Bobby deflected the question, "Why you not at home, school are was over an hour ago."

"My grandpa forgot about us again or the car won't start. It's always something," shrugged the older girl.

The boy blurted, "We won't be getting Christmas presents from Santa."

I stared as the boy continued, "We are bad children because we made our parents run away."

I was speechless. Bobby handed me a several gift bags stuffed with presents and whispered to me, "Take these in, I'll talk to them."

I set the bags down in the counselor's office, "Mrs. Morrison, there are two children outside waiting for their grandfather."

She flustered, "The Abbott children? Not again. The grandfather's car isn't always reliable. I'll call to make sure he's coming, otherwise I'll drive them home."

"The little boy said they won't be receiving gifts because they were bad, running their parents off. Do you know about that?"

"Yes," Mrs. Morrison said, "But I can't talk about it. Child safety regulations, you know."

"Will they be receiving any of these gifts?" I thought of the girl in her thin coat.

"I don't think the grandparents completed the registration forms. They are very secretive people. The children don't participate in any school activities."

On the way back to Rangeman I watched snowflakes fall against the windshield and thought of the little girl and her thin coat and the boy only in a hoodie. I turned to Bobby and asked, "What did you learn from the kids?"

Bobby began, "Allada and Brighton Jacobs."

Allada?

"I had her spell it thinking maybe it was Aladdin."

"Mrs. Morrison called them the Abbott children," I responded.

"Curious, they said their last name was Jacobs."

"According to Mrs. Morrison they live with their grandparents. Perhaps the grandparents are Abbotts. Did they explain why they were bad?"

Bobby began, "Apparently they are not allowed to talk about it. Allada was quite tight lipped, but Brighton couldn't hold back. To paraphrase him, ' Daddy went away to war. Mommy got lonely and started going out. She'd bring home her friends and they'd make us go to our room. Daddy came back and was sad and lived in the basement. Then one day Mommy left with her friends and didn't come home. Daddy went looking for her."

"And neither parent came home?" I asked incredulously. "They abandoned their children?"

"The children feel abandoned. I'm sure Allada would have mentioned if the parents were dead, if she knew."

"Are they from around here?" I asked.

"I don't think so. Allada said a neighbor took care of them for a few days but another lady came and took them to another house. Sounds like foster care. A few days later the grandparents arrived and they all moved here."

"From where?"

"Brighton didn't know and Allada wouldn't say."

"Geez Bobby, can't we do anything?"

"What did Mrs. Morrison say?"

"She can't talk about them. Child safety regulations," I replied.

Bobby thought awhile, "If the grandparents are neglecting them, then social services should be contacted, but if the school hasn't seen a reason up to now, we can't come waltzing in after one encounter with the kids. Anyway, I suspect the grandparents would quickly pack up and move again after the first meeting with social services. Sounds to me they are hiding from someone."

"The parents?"

"Maybe or someone else," he shrugged.

As we neared Rangeman headquarters, I sighed, "The least I can do is find the parents."

"Why? Stephanie, this isn't your responsibility. You don't know the whole story; the kids may be safer with the grandparents. The mother may be a prostitute and dealing drugs. The father probably has PTSD. Neither may be fit parents."

I knew he was right, but I wanted to know why the parents abandoned their children. Were they dead or in jail? I was in charge of research for Rangeman and finding people was one of my specialties. Allada's and Brighton's parents would become my priority…. maybe. Ranger had to approve.