Cossette awoke to the most glorious sunshine, in a clean yet small room of her very own. She had no idea of the time, normally forced to awake at dawn. No one had woken her today.
She slid out of the small but soft feather bed, gazing around. There was a plain, child sized desk in the corner, and a dresser with a pitcher and bowl. She was preparing to wash her face and hands when there was a knock on the door.
Cossette jumped at the noise, hesitating for a moment, fiddling with the hem of her fresh nightgown. The memories of the night before quickly flooded her eight year old mind, nearly overwhelming her.
She was no longer under the ruling of M'Dame and Monsieur Thenardier, those terrible people with whom she lived for as long as she could remember. They treated her like a little slave, forcing Cossette to clean, to cook, to wear rags because they supposedly could not afford material for new dresses.
She remembered watching the inn keeper's daughter Eponine get special treatment, and her heart felt heavy every single day. Until that fateful Christmas Eve when they sent her to fetch a bucket of water, alone in the dark. That is when he came...Monsier Valjean. His eyes were so kind, his voice so soft, and he treated Cossette like a princess. He even took her away with him, promising safety, security, love and comfort. He provided her with a beautiful doll, which she named Lucille, and told her it was an early Christmas present.
They traveled by coach to the city of Paris, Cossette sleeping with her head against Valjean's lap. She didn't know why she trusted him so quickly, but it was something about his very soul, his very being that made her feel as though it were going to be all right.
Another knock brought Cossette from her memories, and it opened a few moments later, revealing Valjean. "Oh excellent, you're awake. Goodness, my dear, you've almost slept the day away!"
Cossette hung her head, slightly ashamed. "I did not mean to," she whispered, and Valjean frowned at her distress.
"Oh child, I wasn't scolding," He insisted, kneeling down so he was eye level with her. "I was merely statin g a fact. Lord knows you need a lie in more than anyone at the moment!" He turned around, not entirely pleased by their surroundings. He'd hoped he could bring her to his original home, twice as large as Gorbeau House, but there had been no choice in the matter. Javert had found them, and he refused to be taken away from the child under any circumstance. He made a promise to her dying mother, and Cossette at first sight had won his heart.
Cossette smiled again, much to his relief.
"Do you need assistance with dressing? Breakfast is on the table downstairs, and I've saved plenty for you."
Cossette shook her head...she learned to dress herself quite a while ago. The Thendarier's didn't have the patience. Thankfully at her age, Cossette wasn't required to wear a corset, so it was simple enough.
"All right, then." Valjean placed a kiss on her forehead. "There is a new dress in your press that I hope you'll find appropriate, and I'll see you very soon." He smiled again, gave a slight bow, and then vanished from sight.
Cossette watched him leave, and found a pretty, dark purple frock hanging carefully from inside the press. She held it up to her front, touching the silky material, wondering how on Earth Monseieur Valjean had managed to sneak them in without her knowing. Then again, the pitcher and bowl had not been there the night before, either. He must have snuck in with the prizes quite early. She resisted the urge to jump up and down with excitement, and quickly removed her nightgown, startled to find her tiny body clean as a button.
That's right, Cossette told herself.
Valjean had given her a warm bath when they'd arrived in the apartments, gently scrubbing away the dirt and grime, even washing her long blonde hair. She asked Valjean quietly if he had his own children, and he'd told her he did not. Valjean explained the closest he had to his own child was his sister's son, but he'd not seen the nephew in years. He did not go into much more detail than that, so Cossette kept her mouth shut.
She pulled the frock over her head, gasping as her very figure seemed to transform. "Father Christmas hasn't forgotten me," she whispered, brushing her hair with a fine toothed comb, and after slipping into a pair of white flats, bounded down the steps towards the general kitchen.
"There you are!" Valjean sat reading the paper at the table, where a platter of chicken, fresh fruit, bread and cheeese sat waiting. "It's nearly luncheon, so I thought I'd combine both meals together for you."
Cossette gave Valjean a great hug, much to his surprise, and she planted a kiss on his cheek.
"You're welcome, my dear," Valjean chuckled. "Go on, my lass, and eat your fill. Not too quickly, now."
Cossette did as she was told, full to bursting with happiness.
Following the meal, Cossette immediately began to clean up the dishes, startled when Valjean stopped her.
"Now none of that," he said. "I will handle the dishes. Your poor hands need a rest."
Cossette looked at them, wincing at the raw redness from years of scrubbing with soapy water .
"What should I do?" she asked, feeling quite lost, used to bustling about from morning till night, barely time between to eat.
Valjean glanced over his shoulder as he began to bring the dishes to the tub, and then looked out the window where snow continued to fall.
"Hmmm," he said. "Perhaps you should go out and build a snowman?"
Cossette looked startled. "What is that?" she asked, and Valjean closed his eyes, his heart breaking at her unintentional ignorance. Even as a boy in the darkest of times, Valjean managed to entertain himself in the snow with his companions.
"Oh dear," He said softly. "I suppose I will have to remedy that. Sit and rest your feet while I finish, and I'll show you what fun can be had outdoors if there is no work to do."
Cossette nodded eagerly, though she had to admit, she felt a bit restless. Would she get used to this new life? She'd dreamt for so long of her Castle on a Cloud, where she could finally be idle, to do what she wanted. She never imagined her dreams coming true, and couldn't help noticing that the snow drifts looked like clouds.
When Valjean finished cleaning their few dishes, he bundled Cossette in a new coat (similar to the color of her gown), tied a scarf around her neck, and put gloves on her hands.
"You are Father Christmas!" Cossette gasped, and Valjean burst into laughter. "However did you manage it?"
Valjean winked as he put on his own coat and hat. "I'm afraid I'm not Father Christmas," he replied, opening the door, smiling when she skipped out into the weather. He still head to be cautious despite the distance from Javert, because word of mouth traveled like wild fire in small villiages.
"What shall we do first?" Cossette asked, rubbing her hands and shivering slightly. She gazed up at the heavens, imagining that her mother smiled down on her. If only she had seen Mama one last time...
Whomph!
"Oh!" Cossette felt something cold and damp hit the back of her neck, and she whirled around to find Valjean looking mischevious. "What was that?"
"Watch what I do," Valjean replied, and bent down, making a ball out of the snow. "Take it, and strike me in return."
Cossette held the ball of snow in her hand, not sure what to think. "Did it hurt you?" It was Valjean's turn to look worried, and Cossette shook her head.
"No...it did not hurt," She replied. "It was just cold!" She threw the snowball at her Father Christmas, giggling at his grunt, and before long, a war was on.
"That was fun!" Cossette gasped, breathless, her cheeks rosy.
"You've a good arm," Valjean complimented, and she was glad he couldn't see her blush underneath the viel of cold.
"Monsieur..." Cossette began, once he'd dushed the snow from his cloak, and Valjean looked at her. "Do you think Mama is watching?"
Valjean paused, for a moment having forgotten Fantine's death, his focus primarily on the child. Of course, Cossette would wonder about her mother, who tried so hard to keep her safe, not knowing the treatment she was dealt by her prior "guardians".
"I am certain of it," He replied.
"D'you think they celebrate Christmas in Heaven?"
Valjean lifted Cossette's light body into his arm, and pointed upwards. "I'm sure they do," he said, "And you may wish your Mama a Merry Christmas. I am sure she will hear you."
Cossette leaned her head against Valjean's shoulder, fighting tears that threatened to spill. "Happy Christmas, Mama," she called. "I love you!"
Valjean hugged Cossette even closer, as though she would be torn from him at the slightest release.
Fantine smiled at the sound of her daughter's voice, so clear, so strong, from high above the clouds. "Merry Chistmas, my sweetling," She spoke, "Mama loves you, too."