Christmas elf

A Holiday Journey 13

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

When Chris rose in the morning, he found someone came in the middle of the night and replaced his down jacket with a pea coat.  It felt like wool, so he imagined it would be warm enough.  Elves, he thought.  He shrugged it off before he thought to check for his wallet and keys.  He found them in his coat pocket, where they should be, but someone replaced his American dollars with old looking British pounds that he thought looked more like sheets of paper than money.  He shrugged again, grabbed his backpack, and went outside to find Mary.

Mary came out when he did.  Perhaps she heard his door open.  She came dressed in a white dress that fell to her ankles, edged with tatting, the same as her collar and her sleeves.  She wore boots that had laces up the side.  Chris imagined it would take him half the morning to lace those boots. She also wore a pea coat of her own, though hers went to well below her knees.

“Are we ready?” she asked casually as she buttoned up her coat against the cold.

“I take it we are headed into the past,” Chris surmised.

“That would be my guess,” Mary answered, and did not appear shaken in the least by that suggestion.  That brought back all the questions Chris struggled with all night.  Before Chris could ask about that, Roy and Plum arrived.

“Ready to go?” Plum asked.  “We will be taking the train today.”

Chris looked at the two men who appeared dressed in some kind of uniform.  Roy carried a big box, and a tripod, which suggested to Chris the box might have an old-fashioned camera in it.  Plum carried two small duffle bags, and pretended he had the heavy load.

“We best get going,” Roy said, quietly.

“Yup. Don’t want to miss breakfast,” Plum agreed, speaking with some volume, and patting his ample stomach.  “But we got to make it quick.  It’s a long walk if we miss the train.”

Chris stepped from the motel, Mary beside him.  Mary put her pink backpack up on her shoulder as Chris spoke.  “Polar Express.”

Mary laughed, and shook her head, “No.”

Breakfast at the Yuletide Diner did not take long.  No one spoke, except Mary mentioned she felt glad the sun came out, and Plum, who said they should eat up because who knew what sort of food they might have on the train.  Otherwise, they ate in silence and nursed their coffees.  Roy had tea.

Chris spent that time staring again at his three companions.  He tried to imagine what Roy and Plum might look like in their elf form.  He felt a bit disturbed at how easy that was to imagine.  Roy went back to staring out the window, and said nothing, but Chris expected that.  Roy never said much.  Plum spent the whole time nervously playing with his food.  He kept looking like he wanted to say something, but kept changing his mind.  Then, there was Mary.

He had to find out how old she was.  He did not even know her last name, which shocked him when he thought about it.  In fact, he knew nothing about her, and yet, somehow that did not matter.  He decided he did not care if she was eighteen, he wanted to be with her.  As he thought about it, he felt a touch of surprise.  He felt like he wanted to be with her forever, if possible, or as near to that as he could manage.

The station proved not very far down the road.  When they got on the platform, Chris took a long look back at the town. Something registered in Chris’ mind, but before he could put it into words, he had to hustle up to the train. He did catch a glimpse of the diesel engine up front, and wondered how far in the past they had to go.  That engine would not have been in service before the 1940s, maybe, the 1930s.

“Here,” Mary said, taking his hand, and directing him into the bench seat beside herself.  He made her get in first so once again he could trap her and she could not escape. She did not seem to mind sitting by the window.

 

Cue: We Wish You a Merry Christmas

A Holiday Journey, The London Symphony Orchestra

conducted by Don Jackson.  Ó℗CD Guy Music Inc., 2001

 

Chris watched over Mary’s shoulder as they pulled out from the station.  In fact, he watched all morning.  He saw the quaint sixties housing development built on the edge of town.  He imagined in another thirty or forty years, it would become urban sprawl.  Too bad about that.  They quickly got out to the countryside, and it became a pleasant ride. They went through one short tunnel, and stopped briefly at two village stations before Mary turned to face Chris and said, “What,” rather sharply.  She looked down, her ears and cheeks red from so many conflicting emotions.

Chris took one last look out the window.  He saw a horse pulled plow out in the field.  He turned to focus on Mary, and couldn’t help what came out of his mouth.  “I really like the way you look in that dress.  Do you dance in that dress?”

Mary looked up.  “I could learn,” she said, with massive amounts of hope in her voice and eyes.

“Maybe we could learn together,” he suggested.

Mary grabbed him, threw her face into his shirt, and wept.  He put his arms around her, encouraged her, and said, “Hush, hush.” Plum turned around in his seat, pulled his head above the back of the bench, and totally interrupted.

“Lunch.”

Plum and Roy stood, and Chris and Mary followed, but they refused to let go of each other.

“You know, I will have to ask you some questions,” Chris whispered.

“And I will answer honestly,” Mary said, as she wiped her eyes.  “I don’t ever want to lie to you.”

Chris paused.  He had not thought she might lie, but he supposed that was important for her to say.

The next car turned out to be a dining car.  They got a table for four right away, and ordered sandwiches and lemonade. Chris asked if they had coffee. The waiter said he would serve espresso with desert.  Chris turned up his nose a little, but accepted it as the best they could do.

“American,” Plum told the waiter, and the waiter said something in French, no doubt an insult.

“So, where are we?” Chris asked.

“Somewhere outside of Paris, I would guess,” Plum said, but quieted when he looked up and saw Chris talking to Mary.

“You know what I know,” Mary said, and frowned at using her defense right at the beginning.

“So, where are you from?” Chris asked, first thing.

“Norway. I was born in Norway,” Mary said and got quiet as two men in uniform came up to the table.

“Monsieur Plum and Roy.” one said, and Chris thought he recognized the uniforms. They were both army captains, one French and one British.  “Mademoiselle,” the Frenchman nodded to Mary.  “And…” he looked at Chris.

“American,” Plum repeated.  “He is here to observe, so treat him well.  It would not hurt to have the Americans on our side.”

The Frenchman frowned, but the British officer seemed delighted.  “Bravo.  Welcome to the bloody mess.  We will try to keep the Hun out of your way.”  He reached over and shook Chris’ hand.

“Le Boche,” The Frenchman said, and followed with a bunch of words in French that Chris had no hope of following.  When Mary answered the man in French, however, Chris raised an eyebrow. The men left, but the food came, and once again they ate in silence.  When the espresso and desert came, Chris finally asked Mary what the man said.

Plum spoke.  “He said they did not need the help of the know-it-all Americans.”

“And what did you answer him?” Chris asked.

“She said, you have reached a stalemate.  You better hope the Americans can tip the scale in your favor.”

Chris and Mary gave Plum hard stares, and Roy thought to intervene.  “Maybe we should go back to check on our equipment.” He practically hauled Plum to his feet and escorted him out of the room.

Chris and Mary sat in silence for a minute, but finally, Chris had to ask. “So you are from Norway.  And what is your last name?”  He shook his head.  “There is so much I don’t know about you.”

Mary got up and sat on the other side of the table to face him.  “I haven’t got a last name.”  She reached out for his hand, and he gave them to her, but he did not otherwise move.

“Your parents?”

“My father is Juletre.  That means Christmas tree in Norwegian.  My mother is Willow, named like the tree.  My brother is Rowan, like the tree with berries that feeds the reindeer.”

“Older or younger brother?”

“Older. Much older than you.”

“So, you were born in the woods?”  Chris smiled, but Mary couldn’t smile.  Her anxiety exploded on her face and in her body language.  She began to worry the hand that held his.  She bit her lower lip.

She finally said, “I am not who you think I am.”  He just raised one eyebrow.  “Well, for one, my name is not Mary.  It is Merry.”

Chris nodded and smiled.  “That is the most sensible thing you have said so far.”

Mary returned his smiled when she realized he could not possibly hear the difference.  “I mean, my name is not Mary, like the mother of God.  It is Merry, as in, Merry Christmas.”  Chris said nothing.  Merry swallowed.

“Second, you needn’t worry about how old I am.  I’m one hundred and thirty-seven-years-old.  I am a full-grown adult.”

Chris’ smiled until it became a bit of a laugh.  “So, maybe you are too old for me.”

“Third, I’m an elf, technically, a Christmas-elf-maiden.”  Merry removed her glamour of humanity and looked at Chris through eyes that were even bigger and more puppy-dog than before.  Chris returned her stare, and at least she was happy to see that he did not snatch his hand back like it was on fire or she had cooties or something.  Then again, he might be in shock.

“And…” Chris coughed to clear his throat. “And Lilly?”

“You honestly know what I know,” Mary, or rather, Merry said.  “We are dependent on Plum and Roy to find the way she has gone.”

Chris stood, and Merry started to get up, but he waved at her to keep her seated. “No, no,” he said.  “Finish your custard.  I need to be alone for a bit.”

“Flan,” she called it.

He started toward the passenger compartment, but remembered Plum and Roy. He went the other way, found a seat, and stared out the window for a long time.  Merry spent most of that time crying.

 

Cue Reprise: We Wish You a Merry Christmas

A Holiday Journey, The London Symphony Orchestra

conducted by Don Jackson.  Ó℗CD Guy Music Inc., 2001

 

When Chris found his way back to the others, he took his seat beside Merry, who looked like Mary again, though she remained Merry.  He said nothing, looking straight ahead.  She said nothing and did the same.  Then the train pulled slowly to a stop in the station.

Plum tried to hurry them.  The sun got ready to set.  Chris got his backpack, and Merry got hers.  Chris offered his arm, and Merry took it, but still, without a word, they walked off the train.

A Holiday Journey 9

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Monday morning, Chris got up to the sound of someone rummaging around in the kitchen. “Lilly?”  He called out of reflex, before he shook his head.  It could not have been Lilly.  It had to be Mary.  He remembered kissing her.  He felt confused.  He was not certain what he felt, but she kissed him back, young as she seemed.  He did not know how to process that.

“Mary. Mary who?”  He spoke out loud, but paused when he realized he did not even know her last name.

“What?” Mary stood there in all her youth, big eyes, bright cheeks, ears open to the sound of his voice, and skinny, though with plenty of bumps and curves where she needed them.  In fact…  He shook his head.  He did not need to think that way.  Mary licked her fingers before she wiped them on the apron she wore.  “What?” she repeated in her most innocent voice, like everything was perfectly normal.

Chris laughed at the thought of life being normal.  He sat at the table.

“Good,” she said.  “I made an omelet.  I hope it is okay.  I don’t cook much.  I’m sorry.”

“I am sure it will be fine,” he said, as she came to the table.  She brought him a cup of coffee and set it down.

“Let me know if I put too much milk in your coffee,” she said, with a big grin. He frowned, and she spouted an explanation.  “I am Lilly’s babysitter.  I know some. Sometimes I asked, some…  I hope you don’t mind.”

Chris took her hand, paused, looked at his own hand holding on to Mary’s hand, and then spoke his heart.  “I don’t know what I mind.  I’m too busy being worried about Lilly.”

“Of course,” Mary turned from a happy young woman to serious in a second.  “I am sure she is fine… Oh!” she slipped out of his hand and raced to the stove.  She got the omelet in time, grabbed the toast, and joined him at the table.

The omelet tasted very good.  Chris smiled for her and said how good it was. She returned his smile and said thank you. He said, “No, thank you,” and then he stopped speaking for a minute and ate.  He also watched her eat, and realized she must have gone home in the night and changed her clothes.  She looked closer to his age for some reason, so he thought maybe she changed some makeup stuff, too.  Still, she remained the same person he got to know when she first moved in.  She remained Lilly’s babysitter, and that triggered the question.

“Tell me about Lilly.” He could not get over the feeling that Mary knew more than she was saying.

“I can’t. You know what I know.  But you must believe that she is all right and in no danger.  More than that, I cannot say.”  Mary looked sad.  Chris picked up his plate, and hers.  He gave her a kiss on the top of her head and took the plates to the kitchen.  He decided, if she wanted to be with him, who was he to argue?

“I’m ready,” he said as he loaded the dishwasher.  “When do we leave?”  He looked at Mary.  She touched her head where he kissed her, and looked frozen with her mouth open in a smile of sorts.  “When do we leave?” he repeated.

Mary shook herself back to the topic.  “As soon as Plum and Roy get here.”  She put one hand to her ear and leaned toward the front door.  “I’m surprised.  I usually show uncanny timing.”  She paused to think.  “I don’t believe I have forgotten to tell you anything.”

“Like where we are going?”  He trusted Mary, and chided himself for thinking she knew something she might not be telling him.

“Ah,” Mary smiled.  “But I know what you know.”

Someone knocked on the door.

Mary rushed to answer it.  “You were not my choice,” she whispered to the two, as she ushered in two people who looked like men, in an odd sort of way.  Chris had to squint a little.  Their odd appearance was not helped by their sizes and shapes.  Mister Plum looked short and stout, like the proverbial teapot. Roy stood tall, taller than Chris, but he appeared terminally skinny.  Mutt and Jeff, Chris thought.  Abbot and Costello.

“Mister Christopher,” the short one spoke.

“Christopher Shepherd, or Mister Shepherd, or just Chris,” Chris corrected, but the short one waved him off like Chris was confusing the issue.

“Name’s Plum.  Not Mister Plum.  Just Plum will do.  My partner is Roy.  Private eyes. We have a long journey ahead of us. I hope you are ready.”

Chris paused, but only for a second as he decided which question to ask first. “You know where Lilly is?”

Plum nodded.  “Roy followed them right up to the door.”  Roy nodded, but said nothing.

“What door?” Chris asked.  “Why did you say a week-long journey?”

“Middleton,” Roy said, without explaining.

“The door to Middleton,” Plum said.  “That is the door we need to go through.”

“Middleton?”

“A lovely community, full of good souls.  That is why I know your Lilly is all right,” Plum said, and Roy nodded again.

“But, why a week?  You said no passport, but I can get to anywhere in this country in a day; three or four at most if I sight-see along the way.  Why a week?”

Roy looked at Plum, and Plum thought before he responded.

“It’s like this.  I am sure they have moved on from Middleton.  That is where we will pick-up their trail, but we will have to travel across country from there, you see?”

Chris shook his head.  “I don’t see. And I don’t see how you can be so sure Lilly is not in danger.”

“Sometimes, you have to believe,” Roy said.

Plum looked at Roy like Roy just gave a long-winded speech.  “Trust is the word I would use,” he said.  “You got a trust she is all right.  No one captures children without some purpose.  You might get a ransom note, but for now, you gotta believe she is okay.”

Chris slowly nodded.  Mary looked like she watched the exchange and managed to keep herself from biting her nails. She thought to interrupt.

“Take the truck?” she asked.  “Do you have a car?”

“No, no,” Plum responded.  “The door is a good walk from here, but nowhere to park on either side.  No suitcase.  You got a backpack?”

Chris looked at Mary.  Mary said, “I can use Lilly’s school pack.”  She added for the two men, “It’s pink.”

“Did you see who decorated my apartment?” Chris asked, ignoring Mary for the moment.

Plum and Roy eyed each other before Plum spoke.  “Yes, we did.  And Lilly went with them, willingly, as far as we could tell, but there were too many of them to stop.  So that is why we followed them to the door.  But they seemed like very nice people, and that is why we figure she is okay. Now, let’s get going.”

Chris looked at Mary again.  She said, “I don’t see that we have any choice.  These two are the only lead we have.”

Chris nodded and turned to his room to empty his suitcase and repack his things. Roy followed him into the room, but Chris ignored the man.  He had Ricky’s old army pack.  He had Ricky’s gun as well.  He got it out from the little safe and looked at it, to think.  He glanced at Roy, and saw Roy shake his head and hands.  Chris did not know if that meant he felt Chris would not need the weapon, or if he generally did not like guns.  Chris put it away.  He did not like guns either.

It did not take long to transfer what he could from his suitcase to the backpack. He put on his hiking boots, and followed Roy back to the main room.  Mary stood there, ready.  Chris felt a little surprised.  He figured she would have to go back to her apartment to get her things, but it seemed she already had her things in Lilly’s school backpack.

“Speedy,” he told her.

“I like to travel light,” she said.

Chris nodded before he smiled.  “A woman who travel’s light,” he laughed.  “Hardly makes you feel human.”

Mary frowned and pushed Plum out the door.  She was not ready to go there.

The sun came out that day, and it helped Chris’ mood.  The snow did not really melt, but it glistened in the sun.  Roy walked out front, and kindly said things like, “This way,” and “Over here” to keep them walking where they needed to go. Mary stayed beside Chris all morning, but mostly looked at her feet, like one deep in thought.  Chris walked, head up, and tried to think about the twists and turns of his life.  He found he could not concentrate for worry.  His mind felt like it was in a fog.  Plum talking the whole time did not help.  The man pointed out things as they went, and Chris wondered if the man doubled for a tour guide.  He politely looked at everything as Plum pointed, but it did distract him.

Cue: Here We Come a Wassailing

London Symphony Orchestra and Chorus

 

Chris tried to keep track of the route they followed, but it felt like his life. He could not concentrate.  He felt surprised at how quickly they came to an area of the city he did not know.  After that, he got completely lost.  He might have panicked, but Plum pointed out and named a few tourist-type things that he heard about but never went to see.  Still, it felt strange to know there were so many businesses, streets, back alleys, shopping centers, neighborhoods and all that he did not know. His little city also seemed much bigger than he imagined.

************************

MONDAY

A Holiday Journey: The journey begins in earnest, and doesn’t get too strange, at first.

Until then, Happy Reading

*

A Holiday Journey 8

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

“So how can I help you?” the priest asked.

Chris wiped his eyes.  “My little girl.  She has disappeared, and I fear the worst may have happened to her.”

“Your daughter?”

“My niece.  But I have full custody and full responsibility for her.  My brother died in the war, overseas, and her mother is also presumed dead.  I promised to watch over her and take care of her, and I failed her.  We are the only family either of us has.”

“Your niece,” the priest voice sounded curious, but intended to comfort Chris.

“You may know her,” Chris just realized.  “When I used to work on Sundays, Missus Minelli, my neighbor, used to bring her here to church.”

The priest had to think for a minute before he came out with it.  “Lilly.”

Chris nodded.  “I’m the Christopher you may have heard about.”

“Uncle Chris,” the priest nodded, and smiled, but Chris could not smile.  “She disappeared?”

“In the middle of the night,” Chris confessed.  “I woke up and she was gone.”

The priest paused to look toward Mary.  He seemed to see something.  “Do not be afraid,” he said.  “You found no sign of violence.  You must believe Lilly is fine, and I have a feeling that you will find her, safe and sound.”

Chris tried to nod.  “I am glad someone feels that way.”  He sniffed to control his emotions.  “I have not done her much good.  I have a college degree, but I haven’t been able to find a job worth much, and even those I found, I haven’t been able to keep.  Maybe if she is safe and sound, maybe she is better off without me.”

“We are always better off with each other.”

“Maybe,” Chris shrugged.  “After these few years with Lilly, I don’t much like the prospect of being alone.” He tried hard to avoid crying again.

The priest pointed to Mary.  “But you do not appear to be alone.  You have one who cares about you.  I believe she may help you find the way you need to go.  I have seen that look before, you know.”

Chris shook his head.  He did not understand what the priest was talking about.  He also stared at Mary for a minute.  The angel could not be seen.

###

“Please,” Mary begged, though only the angel heard her.  “Please, most holy one.”  The angel let out the smallest sliver of a smile.

“You said your heart belonged to the one who bears the Spirit of Christmas.” the angel said.

“It does…I…”  Mary had to pause and think about that.  “I love the dear old man.  And I cried when his Missus went over to the other side.  I cried every day when he sat by her bedside and held her hand.  I cried when he said good-bye.  I cry, still.  Oh, but he is so old now, and sad.  Surely his time is ending.”  Mary wiped a small tear from her eye.  “Oh, but Chris makes me feel all the love, joy, and peace of Christmas, just to look at him…” Mary had to pause again to think about what her heart wanted to propose. It would be asking a lot.  “Maybe Chris could come to Christmas Town and share the burden, to give the dear old man a rest.”  She fell silent, and prepared for whatever answer she might receive.

“He may be the one, I cannot say, but he will have to come the long way around.”

“We will,” Mary said, with some hope in her voice.

“He will have to find out about Lilly on his own.  You cannot tell him about her.”

“I won’t,” Mary said, with determination.

“He will be tested.  He will be tested in the heart where no words can go.  If he fails a test or turns back at any time, he will find himself home, alone, with no memory of you or that he ever started the journey.”

Mary dropped her eyes once again.  “I understand,” she said.  The angel offered her a gift of hope.  It would not do to argue.

“You will have to tell him who you really are, and show him.”

“Right now?”

“No. It needn’t be now.  But it must be soon.  It will also be a test.”

Mary began to cry for fear that he might not like her the way she really was. Some humans seemed thrilled to find their fantasies come to life, but most refused to believe it, and some feared it and accused anything non-human as being demonic and of the devil.  It would be a great risk to reveal herself, but the angel was right again.  Chris would have to know long before he got anywhere near the Christmas village.

“I will do it,” she said, with determination creeping back into her voice.

“Good,” the angel responded, and nearly let out the full smile.  “Plum and Roy will come in the morning to help guide him in the way you need to go.”

“Plum and Roy?” Mary suddenly sounded uncertain again.  “Must it be them?”  Mary’s phone got a text message.

“They were charged to watch the apartment, and watch Chris and Lilly over these many months.  Plum and Roy are the ones to guide him.  That is how it must be,” the angel said, and vanished utterly from that place.

Mary looked up at a sound.  Chris left off his cry and looked up at the same sound.  A couple of men came in a side door, carrying statues of two wise men. One looked like a priest, and he spoke to the other.

“George. Did you forget to relock the side door?”

“I must have,” George admitted.

“The church is closed right now,” the priest said, nice and loud.  “Is there something I can do for you?”

“Father?” Chris said, and turned around, but the older priest he had been speaking with disappeared as surely as Lilly disappeared.

“We were just looking for a place to pray,” Mary said, nice and loud in response, as she walked over to stand beside Chris.  “Thank you, but we have what we need.”  She put out her hand.  Chris took it without hesitation, and stood, but he looked at her with curiosity and some concern.

“George, would you let them out,” the priest said, and George pulled out some keys and stood to wait for them to move.

“It’s all right,” Mary encouraged Chris.  “I know what we need to do to find Lilly.”  She gently drew him toward the door.

“What? You had a vision of some kind?”

Mary shook her head.  “I got a text,” she said, and paused to smile for George as they squeezed out the door and heard it lock behind them.  “We need to start by going home.”

Chris dropped Mary’s hand, but he did start to walk slowly toward the apartments. He could not think of what else to do. It started getting late, and he felt emotionally worn out.  “Will she be home?” he asked.

Mary shook her head, and handed her phone to him.  He read the text out loud.

“From Plum and Roy?  We were contracted to watch the apartment over the weekend and saw the ones who took Lilly.  Lilly is fine, but Roy followed them and we know where she is being taken.  We will come around on Monday morning and take you to her.  Be prepared for a week-long journey.  No passport needed.  Roy says sorry.  No charge for our service, but donations accepted.”

They walked the whole way without a word, Mary’s face scrunched-up in deep thought. She could not imagine telling Chris that she was in fact a Christmas elf.  She worried about how he might react.  She worried that he might not like her anymore.

They checked with Missus Minelli, found Lilly had not returned, and went into Chris’ apartment to sit and wait.

“Nothing will happen until tomorrow,” Mary said.  “Monday morning.”

Chris sat on the couch and Mary sat beside him.  She took his hand again, with the idea that she would offer whatever comfort she could muster, but her nervousness came out instead.  She began to worry his hand.  She kept looking up into his stone-like face.  She decided she could not imagine what he might be thinking.  He surprised her.  He bent toward her and kissed her smack on the lips, and she kissed him back with her whole heart.  They separated slowly.

Chris and Mary sat, staring at each other for several more minutes, not moving, and not making a sound.  Finally, Mary thought to say something.

“I think we finished the macaroni and cheese.  I could scramble some eggs.”

Chris laughed.  He laughed so hard, he fell off the couch.  It sounded like a kind of nervous laugh, but Mary laughed as well, empathic elf that she was.  Chris laughed himself to tears, before he finally stood and calmed enough to speak.

“I’m not really hungry.  I think I need to go lie down.”  He went to his room.

Mary curled up on the couch and cried a little.  “Please don’t let this be the end of it,” she thought out loud.  She seemed to feel like it might work out.  At least she did not disappear from the room, as the angel said, if he failed a test.  So, when the sun set, she slept, with only a brief prayer for happy dreams.

A Holiday Journey 4

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

Chris set up the real tree right away, and got out the box of old ornaments. “Some of these ornaments are older than I am,” he admitted.  “Grandma enjoyed decorating every year.”

“I don’t remember,” Lilly admitted, sadly.

“You were very young.”  He blew the dust off one ornament, and saw how old and stained they really were. “But the amazing thing is, she put so much love into the tree, I swear it shined like the stars at night.”  Lilly wanted to put the angel on the top. Chris had to lift her.

Mary knocked, and came in with macaroni and cheese, a big jug of milk, and a whole plate of red and green iced Christmas cookies; the homemade, melt-in-your-mouth kind. They had more fun and happy laughter. Then Lilly got tired, so she got ready for bed without having to be told.

“But Uncle Chris, what are we going to do with the artificial tree?”

Chris smiled and kissed her on the forehead.  “I guess we will have to be a two-tree family.”  Lilly liked that idea, and curled up under her covers.  Chris left the door open a crack, and found Mary in the kitchen, ready to leave.  He found her crying again.  He asked what was wrong.  He wanted to hold her, but did not dare.  She left the milk and leftover macaroni and cheese in the refrigerator, and left the cookies on the counter.  Then she did something that utterly surprised Chris.  She got on her toes, kissed his cheek, and left quickly without looking back.

Chris sat by the window for a long time.  He thought about the court taking Lilly away and sticking her in some horrid foster home.  He imagined Courtney laughing at him for getting him fired and arranging for Lilly to be taken from him.  Chris had nothing left.  His parents were gone.  His brother died.  He thought he had some cousins in the east somewhere, but he never talked to them, and could not rightly remember their names other than Aunt Linda.  He loved Lilly like she was his own.  He did not want to lose her.  She was the only one he had left.  He touched his cheek where Mary kissed him, but went to bed feeling broken.

One hour later, while Chris slept, his apartment door opened slowly and quietly, and a dozen Christmas elves and one fairy came in.  The elves immediately set about decorating the whole apartment for Christmas, and filled every corner with Christmas cheer.

 

Cue: Deck the Halls

A Holiday Journey, The London Symphony Orchestra

conducted by Don Jackson.  Ó℗CD Guy Music Inc., 2001

 

The fairy went to wake Lilly, quietly.  Of course, Lilly shouted.  “Fairy.”

“Hush,” the fairy said, and surprised Lilly by coming close and hugging the girl, her little fairy arms around Lilly’s cheeks.

“Sorry,” Lilly said, softly.  “But…fairy,” Lilly added.  Lilly reached up and gently touched the Fairy’s pointed ears, but her attention stayed on the fairy’s face, which brought out her smile.  She watched carefully as the fairy fluttered back to the foot of her bed.

“Lilly,” the fairy said, in a voice that surprisingly sounded like a full-grown woman. “My name is Miss Serissa.  That is the Christmas rose, and I am your mother.”

“My mother?”  Lilly tried to keep her voice down.

Serissa fluttered to the bed and got big, which is to say, her wings disappeared, and she took the form of a full-grown woman, though honestly, one too beautiful to be an ordinary human.  Lilly gasped when Serissa spoke again.

“My baby. I have spent these last six years worried about you.  You were born human sized.  I thought you would live best as a human, in the mortal world.  I knew your father would take you to where you could be safe—away from the war.  I cried when Ricky, your father, died; and I grieved for you, but I never gave up hope that you would have a good life.  But then some of the Christmas elves found you and watched for a time.  If you were mostly human, you were where you should be. But it seems you are more like me than like your father.”

“But I am not like you.  You are a fairy.”

“And so are you,” Serissa said.  She wanted to smile, but looked hesitant.

“Seriss…” Lilly could not remember.

“You can call me Mother,” Serissa said, and Lilly jumped forward, threw her arms around the woman, and cried.  Serissa wept with her.

“Come,” Serissa said, after a good cry.  “We have to take you home, where you can get well.”

“But what about Uncle Chris?” Lilly asked, and she and Serissa both looked toward Chris’ room, though the wall blocked their view.

“First, we get little, which for us is our normal size.”  Serissa took Lilly’s hand and instantly, two fairies, one being a little, naked fairy child, hovered over the bed, their bumble-bee-like wings pumping away.  “Now, keep hold of my hand.  You have not practiced with those wings yet.”

“Yes, Mother,” Lilly said, in her regular voice, and Serissa cried again for the sheer joy Lilly expressed; but those were happy tears.

The fairies followed an elf sneaking into Chris’ room.

“Plum,” Serissa whispered sharply.  “You were told to stay out of his room.”

“Got to,” Plum said, and he went to the window where he pulled on a string. Something lit up on the outside of the building, but the fairies could not see what it was.

Serissa frowned at Plum and tapped her foot in mid-air.  “You and Roy are the worst.  You don’t listen, and you don’t follow instructions.”  She might have said more, but she got distracted when she got a good look at Chris.  “He looks so much like his brother.  But he will be all right.  I have a feeling that Merry will be there for him.”  Lilly looked up at her mother and nodded.  Serissa gave Lily another small kiss before she brought them again into the hall, gently closing the door with her wand and a touch of magic sparkles.

Lilly saw the main room then, and loved all the beautiful decorations and knick-knacks of Christmas that were everywhere.  “I feel better already,” Lilly said, not that she ever really knew what ailed her.  Serissa still held her wand and sent a small stream of sparkling lights at the window, and the window opened.  The elves escaped that way, and Serissa and Lilly only paused to speak, though it seemed to Lilly that no one remained to speak to.

“Come, our work is done,” Serissa said, and Lilly thought of Mary.

“Take care of Uncle Chris,” Lilly expressed her own thought.

“My work is not done yet,” a thought returned to them both, and Serissa smiled, knowingly, though without elf eyes, it would have been too hard for an ordinary human to see the knowing smile on her little fairy face.  Serissa and Lilly flew out the window, still holding hands, and disappeared into the night.  Mary, in her own room, cried some more.

Holiday Journey 13

M G Kizzia Leave a comment

When Chris rose in the morning, he found someone came in the middle of the night and replaced his down jacket with a pea coat.  It felt like wool, so he imagined it would be warm enough.  Elves, he thought.  He shrugged it off before he thought to check for his wallet and keys.  He found them in his coat pocket, where they should be, but someone replaced his American dollars with old looking British pounds that he thought looked more like sheets of paper than money.  He shrugged again, grabbed his backpack, and went outside to find Mary.

Mary came out when he did.  Perhaps she heard his door open.  She came dressed in a white dress that fell to her ankles, edged with tatting, the same as her collar and her sleeves.  She wore boots that had laces up the side.  Chris imagined it would take him half the morning to lace those boots. She also wore a pea coat of her own, though hers went to well below her knees.

“Are we ready?” she asked casually as she buttoned up her coat against the cold.

“I take it we are headed into the past,” Chris surmised.

“That would be my guess,” Mary answered, and did not appear shaken in the least by that suggestion.  That brought back all the questions Chris struggled with all night.  Before Chris could ask about that, Roy and Plum arrived.

“Ready to go?” Plum asked.  “We will be taking the train today.”

Chris looked at the two men who appeared dressed in some kind of uniform.  Roy carried a big box, and a tripod, which suggested to Chris the box might have an old-fashioned camera in it.  Plum carried two small duffle bags, and pretended he had the heavy load.

“We best get going,” Roy said, quietly.

“Yup. Don’t want to miss breakfast,” Plum agreed, speaking with some volume, and patting his ample stomach.  “But we got to make it quick.  It’s a long walk if we miss the train.”

Chris stepped from the motel, Mary beside him.  Mary put her pink backpack up on her shoulder as Chris spoke.  “Polar Express.”

Mary laughed, and shook her head, “No.”

Breakfast at the Yuletide Diner did not take long.  No one spoke, except Mary mentioned she felt glad the sun came out, and Plum, who said they should eat up because who knew what sort of food they might have on the train.  Otherwise, they ate in silence and nursed their coffees.  Roy had tea.

Chris spent that time staring again at his three companions.  He tried to imagine what Roy and Plum might look like in their elf form.  He felt a bit disturbed at how easy that was to imagine.  Roy went back to staring out the window, and said nothing, but Chris expected that.  Roy never said much.  Plum spent the whole time nervously playing with his food.  He kept looking like he wanted to say something, but kept changing his mind.  Then, there was Mary.

He had to find out how old she was.  He did not even know her last name, which shocked him when he thought about it.  In fact, he knew nothing about her, and yet, somehow that did not matter.  He decided he did not care if she was eighteen, he wanted to be with her.  As he thought about it, he felt a touch of surprise.  He felt like he wanted to be with her forever, if possible, or as near to that as he could manage.

The station proved not very far down the road.  When they got on the platform, Chris took a long look back at the town. Something registered in Chris’ mind, but before he could put it into words, he had to hustle up to the train. He did catch a glimpse of the diesel engine up front, and wondered how far in the past they had to go.  That engine would not have been in service before the 1940s, maybe, the 1930s.

“Here,” Mary said, taking his hand, and directing him into the bench seat beside herself.  He made her get in first so once again he could trap her and she could not escape. She did not seem to mind sitting by the window.

 

Cue: We Wish You a Merry Christmas

A Holiday Journey, The London Symphony Orchestra

conducted by Don Jackson.  Ó℗CD Guy Music Inc., 2001

 

Chris watched over Mary’s shoulder as they pulled out from the station.  In fact, he watched all morning.  He saw the quaint sixties housing development built on the edge of town.  He imagined in another thirty or forty years, it would become urban sprawl.  Too bad about that.  They quickly got out to the countryside, and it became a pleasant ride. They went through one short tunnel, and stopped briefly at two village stations before Mary turned to face Chris and said, “What,” rather sharply.  She looked down, her ears and cheeks red from so many conflicting emotions.

Chris took one last look out the window.  He saw a horse pulled plow out in the field.  He turned to focus on Mary, and couldn’t help what came out of his mouth.  “I really like the way you look in that dress.  Do you dance in that dress?”

Mary looked up.  “I could learn,” she said, with massive amounts of hope in her voice and eyes.

“Maybe we could learn together,” he suggested.

Mary grabbed him, threw her face into his shirt, and wept.  He put his arms around her, encouraged her, and said, “Hush, hush.” Plum turned around in his seat, pulled his head above the back of the bench, and totally interrupted.

“Lunch.”

Plum and Roy stood, and Chris and Mary followed, but they refused to let go of each other.

“You know, I will have to ask you some questions,” Chris whispered.

“And I will answer honestly,” Mary said, as she wiped her eyes.  “I don’t ever want to lie to you.”

Chris paused.  He had not thought she might lie, but he supposed that was important for her to say.

The next car turned out to be a dining car.  They got a table for four right away, and ordered sandwiches and lemonade. Chris asked if they had coffee. The waiter said he would serve espresso with desert.  Chris turned up his nose a little, but accepted it as the best they could do.

“American,” Plum told the waiter, and the waiter said something in French, no doubt an insult.

“So, where are we?” Chris asked.

“Somewhere outside of Paris, I would guess,” Plum said, but quieted when he looked up and saw Chris talking to Mary.

“You know what I know,” Mary said, and frowned at using her defense right at the beginning.

“So, where are you from?” Chris asked, first thing.

“Norway. I was born in Norway,” Mary said and got quiet as two men in uniform came up to the table.

“Monsieur Plum and Roy.” one said, and Chris thought he recognized the uniforms. They were both army captains, one French and one British.  “Mademoiselle,” the Frenchman nodded to Mary.  “And…” he looked at Chris.

“American,” Plum repeated.  “He is here to observe, so treat him well.  It would not hurt to have the Americans on our side.”

The Frenchman frowned, but the British officer seemed delighted.  “Bravo.  Welcome to the bloody mess.  We will try to keep the Hun out of your way.”  He reached over and shook Chris’ hand.

“Le Boche,” The Frenchman said, and followed with a bunch of words in French that Chris had no hope of following.  When Mary answered the man in French, however, Chris raised an eyebrow. The men left, but the food came, and once again they ate in silence.  When the espresso and desert came, Chris finally asked Mary what the man said.

Plum spoke.  “He said they did not need the help of the know-it-all Americans.”

“And what did you answer him?” Chris asked.

“She said, you have reached a stalemate.  You better hope the Americans can tip the scale in your favor.”

Chris and Mary gave Plum hard stares, and Roy thought to intervene.  “Maybe we should go back to check on our equipment.” He practically hauled Plum to his feet and escorted him out of the room.

Chris and Mary sat in silence for a minute, but finally, Chris had to ask. “So you are from Norway.  And what is your last name?”  He shook his head.  “There is so much I don’t know about you.”

Mary got up and sat on the other side of the table to face him.  “I haven’t got a last name.”  She reached out for his hand, and he gave them to her, but he did not otherwise move.

“Your parents?”

“My father is Juletre.  That means Christmas tree in Norwegian.  My mother is Willow, named like the tree.  My brother is Rowan, like the tree with berries that feeds the reindeer.”

“Older or younger brother?”

“Older. Much older than you.”

“So, you were born in the woods?”  Chris smiled, but Mary couldn’t smile.  Her anxiety exploded on her face and in her body language.  She began to worry the hand that held his.  She bit her lower lip.

She finally said, “I am not who you think I am.”  He just raised one eyebrow.  “Well, for one, my name is not Mary.  It is Merry.”

Chris nodded and smiled.  “That is the most sensible thing you have said so far.”

Mary returned his smiled when she realized he could not possibly hear the difference.  “I mean, my name is not Mary, like the mother of God.  It is Merry, as in, Merry Christmas.”  Chris said nothing.  Merry swallowed.

“Second, you needn’t worry about how old I am.  I’m one hundred and thirty-seven-years-old.  I am a full-grown adult.”

Chris’ smiled until it became a bit of a laugh.  “So, maybe you are too old for me.”

“Third, I’m an elf, technically, a Christmas-elf-maiden.”  Merry removed her glamour of humanity and looked at Chris through eyes that were even bigger and more puppy-dog than before.  Chris returned her stare, and at least she was happy to see that he did not snatch his hand back like it was on fire or she had cooties or something.  Then again, he might be in shock.

“And…” Chris coughed to clear his throat. “And Lilly?”

“You honestly know what I know,” Mary, or rather, Merry said.  “We are dependent on Plum and Roy to find the way she has gone.”

Chris stood, and Merry started to get up, but he waved at her to keep her seated. “No, no,” he said.  “Finish your custard.  I need to be alone for a bit.”

“Flan,” she called it.

He started toward the passenger compartment, but remembered Plum and Roy. He went the other way, found a seat, and stared out the window for a long time.  Merry spent most of that time crying.

 

Cue Reprise: We Wish You a Merry Christmas

A Holiday Journey, The London Symphony Orchestra

conducted by Don Jackson.  Ó℗CD Guy Music Inc., 2001

 

When Chris found his way back to the others, he took his seat beside Merry, who looked like Mary again, though she remained Merry.  He said nothing, looking straight ahead.  She said nothing and did the same.  Then the train pulled slowly to a stop in the station.

Plum tried to hurry them.  The sun got ready to set.  Chris got his backpack, and Merry got hers.  Chris offered his arm, and Merry took it, but still, without a word, they walked off the train.