This was a challenge from lateBloomer on HTR. Hope it lives up to your expectations. I got my inspiration from the songs "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus" and "(I Saw Santa) Rocking around the Christmas Tree" (by the Beach Boys). Happy holidays!
Disclaimer: I'm asking Santa this year for the rights to POTC, but I think that might be a little hard to do. The only thing in this story I own is Will and Elizabeth's daughter, Abby.
Note: The paragraphs in italics are flashbacks.
I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus
There is something special about Christmas as a child. Everything just seems so magical, so exciting. The presents, the holiday cheer, the warm cider Mother makes, the smell of apple pie baking, the laughter and joy, all make Christmastime so joyous and magical. As a child, I was always so worried that I wasn't good enough that year for Santa to come, and I always got really excited to see presents under the tree Christmas morning. But, I was no longer a child; I was thirteen, just reaching the transition between being a child and an adult, and Christmas just didn't seem as magical as it had in the past. And as I watched my little sister Abby run around the house humming carols in her sweet but inharmonic voice and write letters to Santa, I realized that I had lost the magic of Christmas. My heart turned a little colder. I wasn't excited about the presents I would receive the next morning, I didn't feel any holiday cheer, warm apple cider burnt my tongue, apple pie is just another food, and Abby's constant laughter and jabber was driving me insane. Where was my Christmas spirit? Why had I lost it?
I sat quietly in the corner of the room, watching as Father read a story to Abby, who was sitting on his lap. I remembered being Abby's age a little, although my memory was fuzzy. I recalled Christmas that year. I remembered wishing that Father would be home to read me a story. I felt a little resentment to my younger sister that Father was able to raise her from the moment she was born, but I was glad that he was here now, even if he had missed nine years of my life. I sighed. Father looked up from the book.
"Liam, son, are you all right?" he asked, concern filling his dark brown eyes. I nodded hastily.
"I'm fine." He looked back at me suspiciously before returning to the book. I fingered with a hole on the leg of my pants. I was very depressed. I had stopped believing in Santa two years ago, after a classmate had laughed at me for still believing in him. It had been hard to let go of my dreams of him, but those two Christmases hadn't been as depressing as this one was turning out to be. I knew that Santa wasn't the meaning of Christmas, and neither was the apple cider or pie. What was Christmas really about, then?
I thought and thought about this until we prepared for bed that evening. As I changed into my nightclothes and washed my face, I decided that I couldn't just reason out the meaning of Christmas. It had to come to me on its own. So I decided to let it go, for now.
But I wasn't prepared for what Abby asked after Mother and Father had said goodnight.
"Liam, is Santa Claus real?" Abby asked, her eyebrows knitted together on her adorable four-year-old face. I looked down at her.
"Of course he's real! Who made you think otherwise?" I waited for her answer, hoping that she hadn't found out the truth the way I had.
"Uncle Jack. He told me that there was no way that Santa could fly around the world in a night!" she replied.
I rolled my eyes. Uncle Jack was one of those adults who just didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. Figured that he was the one to tell her that. "And since when did you believe a word Uncle Jack said? He likes to lie to little kids because they'll believe anything. Santa's real, and he'll keep coming and delivering presents here until you stop believing."
"Okay," she crossed the room to my bed, "Thank you." She wrapped her short arms around my legs. I patted her curly brown hair and smiled.
"No problem. You'd better get to sleep, or Santa might not come!" Abby's bright brown eyes widened in fear, and she ran over to her bed and jumped under the covers. I smiled, a bit bitterly, at my little sister, full of Christmas cheer, and pulled down the covers of my bed and got in. Tossing and turning, I finally found myself comfortable and closed my eyes tiredly.
"Liam?"
"What is it?"
"Do you still believe in Santa?" her voice was barely a whisper. I hesitated, unsure of how to respond. I had stopped believing in Santa when I was eleven. She still had years to experience the joy and wonder of Santa Claus.
"Of course," I whispered back. "Of course I do." She was silent for a moment. I could hear the faint crash of the waves hitting the beach, snowy with sand, and the melody of bugs chirping outside my window.
"Liam? How do you know he's real? You said that little kids believe everything. What if it's just a story?" I heard her voice tremble. My heart broke. What could I tell her now? She was too smart for her own good. She was too young to stop believing. Part of the joy of Christmas as a kid was supposed to be waking up on Christmas morning and finding presents under the tree that had magically appeared there overnight. She was too young for that to be ruined. I thought hard. Then, an idea came to me: a shadow of a memory of my first Christmas with my father. I knew it would work.
"Well, because I saw him once," I stated. She gasped loudly. "Shhhh! You have to be quiet, or Santa will think you're still awake and he won't come."
"Oh, Liam. Tell me the story! Please!" she begged, jumping out of her bed and running over to mine.
"Shhh! I will. Come sit next to me," I replied, smiling. She crawled across the bed, her pink nightgown hanging over her small frame, and got under the covers. "It was Christmas eve, more specifically the first Christmas eve that we ever got to spend with Father. He had just returned from his duties as Captain of the Flying Dutchman. They both put me to bed that night, but I couldn't sleep. I wanted to see for sure if Santa was real or not, so I waited up, and then when I heard noise out in the kitchen, I snuck out of my room." She gasped, listening intently to my story with wide eyes and attentive ears. I continued.
Pulling the covers off, I crept over to my door and opened it slowly, afraid the creaking would wake my parents. Tiptoeing across the doorway, I made my way into the hallway and into the adjacent room. I peeked my head around the corner and immediately saw the towering tree illuminated by the candlelight. Quickly, I shifted my eyes down to the bottom of the tree. No presents. He hadn't come yet. I sat down behind a table, completely hidden from view, and waited. And waited. And waited some more. I began to get discouraged. What if Santa really wasn't real?
I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I remembered was opening my eyes and seeing presents under the tree. A jolt of panic coursed through my body. Had I missed him? My eyes scanned the room, until I saw red. Squinting in the dark, I determined that the red item was a jacket. Santa! I leaned forward in my hiding spot to get a better view and waited for my eyes to readjust to the darkness. Finally, I could make out two figures in the other room: one, I knew to be my mother, and the other must have been Santa. Santa was friends with my mother? I couldn't hear their conversation, so I decided to move closer. Holding my breath, I bolted across the room and behind the chair on the edge of the room. Yes, it was indeed my mother and Santa! They were in the doorway. He was standing a bit in front of the doorway, with his back to me, and Mother was leaning up against the frame. I couldn't see either of their faces clearly, but I knew it was them. But where was father?
"I've been a good girl this year, Santa," I heard my mom say in a voice I only heard her use with my father, "Does that mean I'll be getting presents?" She smiled up at him brazenly.
Santa answered with a soft and smooth voice, one that reminded me of someone else's, "Yes, you have been a very good girl this year. You've been a very good girl these past ten years without your husband, too."
Mother's face fell slightly as she remembered the agony of not having Father here. "It was hard," she said softly after a moment, "but I managed to pull through it."
"You did beautifully," Santa murmured brushing a stray hair from her face, "You raised Liam all by yourself. I couldn't have done that." I furrowed my brow. Santa was supposed to be good with children, but I guess it was a Mother's touch that raised a child well. It would have been fun to live with Santa, though. Maybe I would ask Mother if we could visit him sometime.
"Thank you," she whispered, her brown eyes regaining the sparkle they had had before the subject had turned to Father. Santa chuckled, and I smiled widely. It was exactly the sort of chuckle you would expect from a jolly man with bright red cheeks.
"Now, what would you like for Christmas?" Santa asked her, moving closer. Mother looked thoughtful. I guess she hadn't thought about what she wanted.
"Hmm, well since I have my wonderful husband back, and a beautiful, well-behaved son," I swelled with pride, "I'm not sure what I want. I'm pretty content as of now."
"Well, it's not every day I get someone who doesn't want anything for Christmas," Santa laughed his belly laugh.
"I didn't say I didn't want anything! I just said I didn't know what I wanted," she corrected him. Santa just smiled back at her. "Well, there is one thing… but I don't know if Santa would give it to me."
"Santa is a very generous man," he replied, smirking, "and you have been a good girl this year. I think Santa will grant any of your wishes."
Mother smiled back at him, her eyes darting up to something above them. Santa followed her gaze and chuckled. Something must have happened between them, because Santa understood exactly what she wanted, but she hadn't said anything.
"That is a big present, but you've been good," Santa replied mischievously.
"Then, something happened that I did not expect at all."
"What happened?" Abby had been as still as humanly possible, listening all the while, up until now. "Tell me!" she interrupted.
"Hmmm, I don't know if I will," I teased, pulling on one of her curly tendrils.
"You must! Please, please, please?" she begged, grabbing my arm and pulling on it. I chuckled.
"Fine. But you must be quiet," I told her. She let go of my arm and looked expectantly at me.
"Then, something happened that I did not expect at all. Santa kissed Mommy on the lips!" Abby gasped loudly, her small mouth wide in shock.
"They didn't!"
"Yes they did!"
"I don't believe it!"
"You better believe it, Abby. And then – " Abby cut me off.
"There's more?" I nodded. She raised her eyebrows, looking at me like I was crazy.
"Well, if you don't want me to continue…"
"No! Don't stop!" She pleaded. I continued my story.
Santa kissed Mother quickly. I had to clamp my hand over my mouth to keep from gasping out loud. Why was Mommy kissing Santa? I looked to where they had been looking earlier, and saw the mistletoe. Mother had told me that it was Christmas tradition to kiss someone if you both are standing under it, but she also told me that you didn't have to. I used that to my advantage when my outgoing neighbor, who was the same age as I was, tried to ambush me under the mistletoe last year. I cringed slightly. Why would Mother kiss Santa if she had a choice? Didn't she love Father? I watched, horrified, as Mother leaned in to kiss him again, turning her back to me so Santa was almost out of view.
"There, there. You already got your present," Santa joked, pulling away with a smirk. Mother glared at him playfully.
"After all I've been through, after all the good I've done, that's all I get? A short kiss as my present?" she protested playfully, folding her arms over her chest. I was thoroughly confused now.
"Well, I guess I could spare one more," Santa relented. Mother wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed him soundly. I counted the seconds, sickened. Thirty-eight seconds went by before they finally broke apart. Disgusting. I didn't mind as much anymore when Mother and Father kissed, as I felt bad that they had been separated for ten years, but Mother kissing anyone else was just…wrong. How could she do that? Why wasn't she with Father? I watched Mother wrap her arms tighter around Santa's bright red coat as Santa held her close. I was appalled. This couldn't be happening. I didn't understand.
Then, my eyes widened as Santa looked straight at me. His expression went from being shocked to see me, then to worry about what I'd seen, and then to calm, almost smiling. I stared at him, wondering what he would do. Then, he moved his arms up Mother's shoulders, as to draw her nearer, but before he placed them, he brought a gloved finger up to his mouth, signaling me to be quiet. I nodded, and he smiled gently, a smile which conveyed to me everything I wanted to know. Mother still loved Father. I knew the kiss was only a present. I smiled back at him, and waved shyly. Nodding slightly and inconspicuously to me, he stroked Mother's hair once and then led her out of the room. It was my cue to exit.
"I can't believe it. Santa actually saw you!" Abby shrieked with delight. I shushed her, patting her small hand.
"You haven't even heard the best part!" I replied. She instantly quieted down. "When I woke up on Christmas morning, I was going to ask Mother about what had happened that night, but I didn't need to."
"Why?" Abby questioned, her pale pink lips pressed together in eagerness.
"Santa left me a letter with all of my presents." I chuckled a bit at Abby's reaction. Her eyes grew wide again and she bounced on the bed. "Yep. He told me not to worry, and reassured me that Mother still loved Father with all of her heart. And I could tell from the way she looked at him that day that she did."
"Do you still have the letter?" I shook my head. Truthfully, I had torn up the letter when I discovered that it hadn't really been Santa there that night because I was so angry that my childhood dreams were lost, but I couldn't tell my little sister that. "Too bad."
"It is too bad," I said regretfully. Abby tried to hide a yawn. "Well, that's the end of my story. You really need to go to bed. You look tired."
"I'm not tired," Abby protested, trying to look conscious. She didn't fool me; it was way past her bedtime. I pulled back the covers from my bed so she could get out. Crossing to the other side of the room, she looked back at me. "Thanks, Liam. That was a really good story."
"You're welcome," I replied with a smile. She grinned and climbed into bed. I settled back down into my own bed, ready to drift off to sleep.
"Liam?"
"Mmmm?"
"I'm really glad to have you as a brother. Santa couldn't ever bring me anything better." I sat up slightly and smiled genuinely back at her.
"Thank you. I love you, Abby," I replied.
"Love you, too." And with that, she closed her eyes.
I rolled over to face the wall, with Abby's statement echoing in my head. She couldn't ask for anything better than me? I was even higher on her Christmas list than the new doll she wanted? A warmth spread through me. Suddenly, my heart was glowing again. Abby had sparked within me a new light. I had finally rediscovered the true meaning of Christmas. It wasn't all about Santa, or presents, or home made pumpkin pie. It was about family, and being together. It was about spending quality time with the people you love and sharing in the cheer. It was about the warm feeling that spreads through your soul when you are close to the ones you love. It was about love, and being thankful for those around you. Abby's statement made me rediscover the holiday spirit, and I knew that this lesson would forever remain in my heart, and that every Christmas, I would remember this night and grow warm with joy for having such a wonderful little sister who relit the Christmas spirit in my heart. And I would always be thankful for that.
So there you have it! Hope you enjoyed it! That is, to date, the longest fanfic I have ever written. Go me! It is also the first real challenge I have taken up, so go easy on me!
Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Happy New Year, Merry/Happy insert holiday you celebrate here!
As always, this story is dedicated to my best friend in the WHOLE UNIVERSE Bethany. Hang in there, girl! I loves you!