For @anya-emerson from your Secret Santa! @animorphsecretsanta
Have yourself a merry little Christmas.
It should have been a happy Christmas. Lorenâs mother worked hard to inject Christmas joy into every moment. She enlisted Loren and her sister to decorate every inch of the house in garlands and tinsel and ribbons. They baked cookies and decorated them while Christmas songs played on the radio. The carols all spoke of peace and joy, and Loren tried to feel the truth of those words, tried to let them live and grow inside her.
The country was no longer at war; her family was finally back together. Her father was alive and safe and home. Everything was the way it should be.
From now on, our troubles will be out of sight.
It should have been the happiest Christmas theyâd had in a long time. But no amount of decorations or cookies or music was enough to make her father himself again. He spent most of his time locked in his study or sitting in his recliner staring into space. There were shadows behind his eyes, pieces of the war he could never truly leave behind. Though they surrounded him with Christmas cheer, none of it seemed to reach him.
The Christmas That Never Was
Have yourself a merry little Christmas.
Christmas with Elfangor was new and bright. There was still a lot he didnât know about Earthâs customs and religions, but he understood about rituals and in teaching him hers, Loren felt she understood the holiday better than she ever had.
Elfangor was delighted by Christmas trees and baffled by the concept of wrapping paper. Every part of the story of Santa Claus confused him, and Loren had to repeatedly explain that yes, reindeer were real, but no, they couldnât actually fly. She told herself she would never forget the look on his face the first time he tried hot chocolate.
From now on, our troubles will be miles away.
He told her about Andalite rituals of love and peace and giving, and together they constructed a hybrid holiday all their own, combining Andalite and human traditions. This Christmas, the world was brimming with hope.
Here we are as in olden days,
Loren sits on a wooden pew at St. Annâs, her hand resting on Champâs head as he sits at her feet. She canât see the candles, but she can almost feel their flickering warmth, and she can smell the heavy scent of incense. The soaring voices of the choir fill the room and Loren smiles as she sings along.
Happy golden days of yore.
When the mass is over, Loren stays seated, letting the first rush of people make their way out the front doors, on to other Christmas celebrations. Some linger, exchanging warm greetings and wishing each other well. The joy and good will in the air are almost palpable. A few people she knows from the crisis center wish her a merry Christmas and she responds in kind. And then she tells Champ to take them home and he leads her to the door.
Faithful friends who are dear to us gather near to us once more.
Outside, a cold rain is falling, and Loren wraps her coat around herself as she and Champ make their way down the six blocks to home. Once there, dry and warm inside, they sit together, listening to the rain. Loren makes herself hot chocolate and sips it slowly, and the taste of it brushes against the edges of some unreachable memory. She wonders if itâs a happy memory or a sad one. Champ shifts position beside her and leans his head against her leg. She scratches behind his ears and smiles at the sound of his wagging tail beating against the couch.
Through the years, we all will be together,
The war will be over, the world safe from the threat of Yeerk invasion. Loren will have been reunited with the son she canât remember. The broken pieces of a family nudged cautiously back together. Her scars will be healed, her eyesight returned. This should be a Christmas of joyous celebration.
For the first time in her memory, Loren will buy a Christmas tree. Sheâll drag it into the house and stand it by the window while Champ watches with his head tilted to the side. Itâs been just the two of them for so long, but this year Loren will try to change that. Sheâll go for a walk in the woods, find the meadow where Tobias lives, and talk to him. Though he wonât respond, sheâll invite him to come and visit. They can decorate the tree together, like the family they should have been. Heâll stare with those intense hawk eyes and sheâll leave him in peace, wondering if sheâll ever be able to reach him â if anyone can.
Hang a shining star upon the highest bow.
Sheâll have to buy Christmas lights and ornaments. Cassie will stop by to talk and will stay to help her make paper chains and popcorn garlands. Sheâll bake cookies and sheâll leave the window open, just in case. And maybe, over the sound of the carols playing on the radio, sheâll hear the fluttering of wings and turn to see Tobias perched on a chair. Even if it doesnât last, maybe just this once, at Christmas, they can bridge the gulf between them and find a moment of peace.
And have yourself a merry little Christmas now.
