Okay, so I am not putting the brakes on "Chasing Hope" for those of you who were wondering. I just had this little idea swimming in my mind (and since I have temporary writer's block for CH), and I thought it would be cool to follow through with. For this story, expect updates that are going to be few and far between. LOL. I may not have time to update much, but I really would like to work on this idea. I hope you all enjoy this first little introduction chapter. Let me know what you think.
Title: Once Upon a December
Author: LadeeBear (or Jennifer, if you prefer to use my real name)
Rating: Probably K or K+ throughout entire story.
Disclaimers: I do not own/am not affiliated with CBS or Jerry Bruckheimer, therefore, I do not own any of his characters. I do not own any quotes or song lyrics, unless specified otherwise. I do not own the story title (this is a song from the movie Anastasia) and do not own some of this plot, as it is portrayed in CSI:NY episodes.
Inspiration & Spoilers: I really love writing OCs. I don't know why, but I just do. Normally, my OCs are somehow affiliated with one or more of the major characters in the story, and this is true for OUAP as well. Since this story more or less is going to follow some of season two, be prepared to encounter some spoilers. I will let you know as they come. Please read & enjoy!
Someone holds me safe and warm,
Horses prance through a silver storm,
Figures dancing gracefully
Across my memory…
"Shut up Erin."
I turned around in my seat.
"Mary Adelaide Diaz, you apologize to your sister right now."
The blonde girl mumbled something.
"I can't hear you, Mary. Say that you're sorry. And say it like you mean it."
"Sorry Erin," Mary said with agitation etched in her voice. Erin remained silent and stared out the window at the snow that was spiraling down onto the highway.
"Erin," I began with a level tone, "when someone apologizes, what is the big girl thing to do?"
Erin crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. "Accept their apology," she said with a flat voice. I nodded my head, urging my youngest to continue. Erin uncrossed her arms to tug at one of her braids. "Apology accepted," she remarked to her twin. Mary and Erin thus remained silent. And I was quite pleased.
Until Jacob decided to open his mouth.
"Mom, are we there yet?" my son whined. I rolled my eyes and watched Matthew smirk. I slapped his arm playfully and he continued to smirk, adjusting his hands on the steering wheel. Athena piped up.
"We've been driving for hours Mommy."
I, once again, did the motherly thing – and rolled my eyes. My children could be such angels one moment, and…well, you get the picture. I turned around to greet four pairs of expectant eyes. I sighed.
"We'll be there in another half an hour or so, alright?"
The children shrugged and returned to whatever activity had previously occupied their attention. For Jacob, my only boy, this was his video game. Athena was not at all like her twin brother – she returned to reading her book. Erin and Mary were like night and day, and at times, it was hard to say which of them was night and which was day. Erin was the younger twin, but sometimes she acted more mature than her sister. But all the same, for the most part, both of my sets of twins got along. I stared out the front windshield and smiled slightly.
Christmas was always a special time of year for me. Whether it was because of the smells of seasonal delights, the sight of slow falling in gentle blankets upon the earth, or maybe it was just that feeling of being warm, of being connected, of being loved.
We were traveling back to my parent's house, like every year, for a family gathering. It was a quaint time with food and stories. Oh, the stories that we would tell. The children would usually run upstairs into the playroom and assemble all of their new gadgets. Us adults would proceed to sip our coffee or peppermint tea and talk about the ups and downs of being parents.
It was always nice. It was always warm and inviting. And it was always home.
Far away, long ago, glowing dim as an ember
Things my heart yearns to know,
Once upon a December
We pulled into the old stone driveway mid-afternoon, and the children couldn't have been happier to finally be out of the minivan. I yawned and stretched, careful to not displace the cherry crumb pie seated in my lap. I noted that Daniel's car was absent, and smiled. My brother was always late. My sister, on the other hand, pulled up as I was getting the children out of their car seats. The peppy brunette smiled and waved a hand at me, walking around the side of her car to unfasten Dana's car seat. Erin and Mary practically leapt out of their car seats to run over and greet their cousins. I smiled and helped clear out the rest of my van before proceeding to shift the cherry crumb pie into my husband's arms in order to greet my younger sister.
Elle Carpenter was the sweetest, most caring person on the face of the earth. Or so I believed. She would go out of her way in order to help anyone and everyone. She was a devoted mother, a wonderful daughter, and an amazing best friend. I embraced my younger sibling and she sighed.
"It's good to be home, isn't it?"
I broke apart from our embrace and smiled at Elle's comment.
"Yes it is; yes it is."
Dana, Erin, Mary, Athena, Jordan, and Jacob raced towards the front of my parent's old suburban home. I stole a glance at Elle, who was looking reverently at our old home. I stared with her for a moment, recalling the memories of yesteryear, and the subsequent joys and pains of growing older. At the same moment, we both looked at each other. This is something I will never be able to define truly – the moment where you are so connected with your siblings that you just know what the other is thinking. I suppose it's a family thing. But something deeper inside of me says that it's not just a family thing – it's a love thing.
"Is that Elle and Lilly out there?"
We both broke our gazes and our eyes fell upon the front door, from which our dear mother was beckoning. She had a dish towel thrown haphazardly over her left shoulder and her soft white hair was pulled back in a clip. Elle and I walked together up the pathway to the front door and our mother clasped her hands together, chocolate eyes swimming with tears.
"Oh, my girls are together," she said, hugging us both in turn. I beamed and kissed my mother on the cheek. "Come in, come in before you both catch a cold!" she remarked, ushering us inside the warm foyer. It smelled like home, which meant cinnamon and apple ginger spice. My mother was always a fan of those scented candles and cinnamon brooms from local grocery stores. She was a simple, quiet, and well-respected woman. She was brilliant and fun, even as her years were dwindling down. Her eyes held the essence of who she was – warm, rich, inviting, calm. My father always joked that he first fell in love with her eyes, and the rest came later on.
My father, ah, my father. Looking back upon it now, I have to laugh – my father was just so many things, and he still is so many things. He's a provider, a comforter, a mender of broken hearts and shattered dreams; always a "daddy" to me and Elle, a smart, lovable, hilarious old man – my father was so much to me.
"Are those my beautiful daughters I see?"
Elle and I beamed and hugged our father. He smelled like the same cologne he had always worn – warm, rich, sweet-smelling cologne. His eyes twinkled, two mischievously brilliant blue orbs fixed behind a set of spectacles. Daddy, daddy, daddy, oh how he would always be my daddy, no matter how old I grew to be.
"And where's my son at?"
Elle and I rolled our eyes while our husbands piped up in unison: "Late, per usual."
"I heard that!" my younger brother replied indignantly from the foyer. I peered around the corner to see Dan and his pregnant wife walking towards the kitchen, where we all were currently seated. Isabelle beamed at me, and – for lack of a better word – waddled towards our general direction. I hugged my sister-in-law and smiled warmly at her. Isabelle was a sweet Hispanic woman with glittering eyes and a kindred spirit. She was polar opposite of my often loud-mouthed and sporadic brother. Dan greeted me with a swift hug and a peck on the cheek and sunk into his respective chair at the dinner table, beginning what would eventually become the never-ending conversation about sports. Elle, my mother, and I decided to focus our interests on Isabelle, asking information about the baby, and when she was due. It was stereotypical female chit-chat, but we wanted to make our sister-in-law feel welcomed into our home. It was the first Christmas that she was spending with us, and we all wanted her to fit in with the family.
Mother rose from the table and checked on the dinner. I rose in turn to help, but she declined, and chose to bustle around the tiny kitchen herself. I felt a tug on my shirt and looked down to see Jordan furiously pulling my red sweater. I smiled and picked up my toddler niece, settling her onto my lap.
"I still can't believe that it's been a year, and we haven't gone back to the city yet," Elle replied with somewhat of a nostalgic sigh, as she twirled a strand of dark hair around her fingers. I shrugged my shoulders.
"Between Matt and me working, and the kids in school, we haven't thought much of visiting the city," I admitted. Matthew perked up at mention of his name.
"Did you say something Lily?"
Dan smirked and rolled his eyes. "They're having some deep female conversation, and it's best if we don't intrude."
I glared at my younger sibling. "You're worse than Athena sometimes, ya know that?"
Dan merely shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. I transferred Jordan into her mother's arms and stared out the frosty kitchen window, watching snowflake upon snowflake tumble in quiet interludes to the ground below. Isabelle let out a soft sigh.
"We never had snow in California," she said sadly. "I wish we would have though. It's so beautiful."
Christopher perked up. "When you have to shovel three feet of it, then tell me if you still think it's beautiful."
Elle rolled her eyes at her husband. "It is beautiful, Chris. You just don't appreciate the beauty as much when you're doing manual labor."
We all laughed and the children descended the stairs, greeting their aunts and uncles with open arms and illuminated faces.
"We're all ready for dinner. Lilly, the kids can sit in the dining room. I set up the old folding table in there. And all the adults can sit out here." We began, buffet style, to assemble our dishes, with the parents assisting the children and sending them into their own separate room to eat their meal.
I sunk down into a chair to the left of my husband, with Isabelle seated at my right. Dan was the last to sit down and we all held hands, with Elle doing the honor of saying grace. We ate our meal in relative chatter, as was usually custom in our household. My father spoke with Matt and Chris about sports, as usual, while my mother talked with Danny and Isabelle about their plans for their child, which left my sister and me to discuss the ups and downs of our own parenting life.
It was always nice to be home, not because there was anything remotely remarkable about it. Quite contrary, my home was neither special nor notable, but if you asked any of us, there was no better place to be.
Dancing bears, painted wings,
Things I almost remember
And a song someone sings,
Once upon a December.
Once dinner was complete, the children feverishly opened their presents in order to assemble and play with them upstairs. I laughed and watched my two sets of twins hobble up a flight of stairs with presents spilling out of their arms. The adults removed themselves from the kitchen, and Elle handed me a cup of coffee, which I willingly accepted.
Sinking onto the couch, I settled under the drape of Matt's arm and heaved a sigh. It was good to finally be reunited with my entire family, for one day, with no interruptions and no agendas. We had all the time in the world to do anything and everything. And thus, we chose to begin telling stories.
"Remember that one time that Dan was little…we came home from school to find him trying to shove colored pencils into the VCR because he wanted to know if the colors would show up on screen or not," Elle remarked, causing an outburst of laughter. Dan pouted and threw his hands up into the air.
"I was, like, four years old then!"
I rolled my eyes and exchanged a look with my sister. Mother and father chuckled from the other side of the room on the couch where they were seated. Isabelle tilted her head to the side for a moment and studied her parents-in-law. After a moment of hesitation, she spoke in a meek and quiet voice.
"Did I ever hear the story of how you two met?"
We all exchanged looks to one another, before Mother spoke.
"You know, I don't ever think I've told you that story…" she began, trailing off. I leaned forward in my seat and Elle mimicked my motion.
"You know, I don't think Isabelle has ever heard that story before. I think you guys should tell her."
Mother and father looked at each other with that secretive shine in their eyes, a silent communication that only they understood. Dan was grinning.
"Oh, come on. She has to hear about this."
"Alright, alright. We'll tell her. But try not to chime in too much," father said, throwing accusatory glances at each of his children and children-in-law in turn. "That would spoil the surprises," he finished with a smile. Isabelle looked eagerly at my mother and father, who seemed at a loss of how to begin their story. It was my mother who spoke first.
"Initially, I hated your father…"
"Initially, I resented your mother…"
"He was arrogant and insolent…"
"She was smart and stubborn…"
"He had that annoying New York accent…"
"She always talked about 'Montana this' or 'Montana that'…"
"But, I grew to like him…"
"…and I grew to like her…"
"…and it eventually grew into…"
"…love."
Isabelle fixed her eyes intently on my parents, a slight gasp of awe escaping her lips. We all smiled and settled back to listen to the stories of our parents' courtship one more time.
Mother looked at father once more before beginning the story.
"Once upon a time, there lived a woman named Lindsay Monroe and a man named Danny Messer, who lived in Bozeman, Montana and New York City, respectably. Eventually, their paths would collide and lead them to the very couch that they sit on now…"
"…but at that time, neither of them could have predicted that they would fall in love…"
"…except maybe Mac…" Elle chimed in, remembering the former supervisor of my parents. My parents nodded, and as Daddy began to open his mouth, Dan interrupted him.
"…or Stella," he added thoughtfully. Mother nodded and opened her mouth to continue, but I was quicker.
"…or Flack…"
"Alright, alright, so everyone knew we would get together eventually," Mother said in a somewhat exasperated tone that was fit to burst any moment with laughter. I smiled at my siblings and we ushered our parents to continue.
"It was on the first day that I met Danny Messer that I knew my life was going to change…"
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