(See the first chapter for disclaimer, notes, spoiler, etc.)
Chapter 3: "Christmas at the Moment"
Bette's Grandfather clock struck the hour, a resounding chime that echoed through the house. It moved swiftly, invading every pocket of quiet. Olivia opened her eyes slowly, blinking. Exhaustion burned at her eyes as she pushed herself up, looking around the room in a daze. Was it still night? Which night?
She rested her head in her hands, yawning. The baby kicked sympathetically, no doubt not thrilled with the prospect of waking again. A hazy fog clouded her mind, sticky cobwebs that refused coherent thought. Why was she awake?
A hearty chuckle disturbed the silence and she flinched, her heart jumping into her throat. Her eyes flew up, widening as the taunting scent of cinnamon tickled her nostrils. "Merry Christmas!"
She tilted her head, speechless at the sight before her. For what should have appeared but an exceedingly plump man, reveling in a delightful, yet enormous, dinner. A Christmas dinner. Tempting scents fought for control and she inhaled instinctively, savoring the meal. A generous turkey sat center stage, surrounded by heaping bowls of golden roasted potatoes and steaming vegetables. Dishes of fragrant stuffing and sauces made Olivia's mouth water and she stood slowly, lazily drawing her robe closed. A blazing Christmas pudding caught her eye, as did the mountain of cakes and other sweets.
"Is it still Christmas?" she asked softly.
He laughed uproariously, bits of vanilla cake flying from his mouth. "Is it still Christmas!" he exclaimed, mocking her question. He jumped down from his throne, sucking a dollop of thick icing from his finger. His jaunty green robe swished around him, the plush cashmere trimmed with thick white fur. "Of course it's still Christmas!"
Her brow furrowed, watching as the giant laughed uncontrollably and enthusiastically slapped his thigh. His large belly shook, his face flushed as his sandy brown hair flopped over his eyes. "What kind of question is that?" he asked, his voice booming with amusement.
She crossed her arms over her chest, steaming with insult. He was still laughing. Laughing at her! Her mouth pinched as she watched him wipe tears of glee from his eyes. "It's my question," she hissed.
"Ah-ha!" He wagged his finger at her, chiding, "It's you then!"
"Me?"
His massive hand shot out, dwarfing hers as he energetically shook it. "Pleased to meet you!" He beamed with such earnest and true delight that Olivia felt her irritation begin to melt. His entire hand could have gone around several of her arms, making it akin to a toothpick that can be snapped with no effort. Yet, she felt no fear. In fact, a smile crept into her face, slowly taking up residence on her full lips. "I am the Ghost of Christmas at the Moment!"
She swallowed back a giggle, her eyes bright as she looked up at him. "That's quite a mouthful."
"Tell me about it," he said, shaking his head regretfully. "I put in for a change, but I'm still waiting." He shrugged his shoulders, resigned. "Are you ready to go?"
"Where now?" she sighed, her blue eyes losing some of the merry spark that lit them only moments ago.
"Exactly!" he shouted, flinging the train of his cloak over Olivia and around him. There was a loud crack and a flash of blinding light that lit Olivia's eyelids. She shrieked, throwing her arms around the giant's massive ankle as far as they would go. Her eyes were squeezed shut, yet she was oddly comforted by the surprising scents of sweet berries and warm vanilla that clung to his robe.
His feet hit ground a moment later, the impact shaking Olivia from him. She fell back, cushioned in a safety net of cashmere as he reached out and scooped her into the palm of his hand. "Sorry," he gushed, his eyes downcast as he continued bashfully, "I'm still working on my landing."
She nodded slowly as she settled into the curve of his fingers. "What did you mean by 'exactly'?" she asked, the rise of flesh in his palm serving as a rest for her swollen feet.
"Oh!" He gestured grandly and turned his hand so she could see. "We're here! I mean, now!"
"At the moment?" she prodded gently, her head swimming with confusion. "The present?"
He nodded and snapped his finger, a simple action that made Olivia tremble and cover her ears. "Sorry," he said quickly, his cheeks blushing as he chastised himself. "I always forget you're small."
She lowered her hands from ears tentatively, noticing her surroundings for the first time. She was still in Bette's house, but they were downstairs. "All those theatrics when we could have just taken the stairs?"
"You humans might say I have a flair for the dramatic."
She couldn't help rolling her eyes at his excuse as she asked, "What is this?"
"It's what's happening right now." He nodded enthusiastically, looking down into her wide eyes. "Most of you humans never stop to think about how your actions effect other people."
"Your good pal Livy could always go to a hotel!"
Olivia's eyes narrowed and she crossed her arms indignantly as Bette came into the living room, blowing on a mug of hot chocolate. "Stop that," she muttered, pouring a splash of Kahlua into the steaming drink as Annie followed her. "Olivia's going through something…something so painful, you and I can't comprehend."
"Puh-lease! Olivia Richards is a one-woman drama show. If she's so upset about Caitlin, she should be back at her own house with her family…not invading my guest room!"
She watched her friend lower her head and pinch the bridge of her nose. "Technically, it is her guest room, Poopsie."
Annie flopped on the couch next to her aunt, kicking her legs up on the stone coffee table. "Whatever."
Bette leaned back into the sofa, tucking a leg beneath her. "You're too young to remember this, but that woman was there for me during some dark days after John took Emily back East with him." She looked up at the ceiling and to the second floor where Olivia was. "I owe her this." Her eyes narrowed and she glanced over to Annie. "Just like you would have done for Maria."
Olivia's breath ran shallow, a painful rock swelling in her throat. Shame flushed in her neck and cheeks as she looked down at her lap. "It must be nice to have a friend like that," the ghost said. "I wouldn't know." He sighed sadly and continued, "I don't have any."
She nodded dumbly, turning back into the cave of his fingers. "I don't want to be here," she murmured, regret for her earlier meltdown with Bette plaguing her soul. "Take me somewhere else."
"Where?"
"Anywhere."
He nodded obligingly, twirling the robe over them. A moment later, his feet hit ground and the cloak fell from them. She sat up, her eyes widening in surprise. One Ocean Avenue. She shivered, looking around the empty living room. A fully decorated tree stood forlornly in the corner, its lights twinkling sadly in the night. Even the festive red bows looked pathetic, hanging limply in low spirits. "Look," the ghost said sadly, turning his hand towards the decorated tree.
She gasped, covering her mouth when she saw the base of the tree. "Sean," she whispered, pushing herself up to kneel in his palm. He was laid out on the floor, his body a graceful line and his arms folded up to cushion his head. She watched the slow rise and fall of his chest, in seeming time with the soft carols drifting out of the speakers.
The ghost scratched his head, his face screwed in thought as he watched the teenager. "What's he doing?"
Olivia's face fell, tears catching on her eyelashes. "He's- he does that every year." She sniffled, wiping her eyes as she explained, "When he and his sister were younger, they would sneak out of bed." She smiled at the memory, remembering the patter of their feet on the stairs. "They wanted to wait for Santa," she continued, a parent's amused pride rising in her throat. "Later, Gregory and I would find them sound asleep beneath the tree. Even when they were older, they would lay there for hours, staring up through the lit branches."
The ghost smiled broadly as he gushed, "That's so nice."
As she watched her son, she shivered within her robe. "He misses his sister terribly," she whispered, her heart breaking. "They were so close."
"It's nice that brothers and sisters are close," he said softly after a long moment. "It's hard for me to keep in touch with mine…there are thousands of us."
She nodded to herself, barely hearing him. "He's so alone…and on Christmas Eve! Where is Gregory?" She looked around the room, searching for her husband. "If anyone would know what Sean is going through, it's him."
The giant's face set, sadness clouding his eyes as he snapped his fingers. Gregory's study instantly appeared, the lone glow of light coming from the small lamp on his desk. Shadows clung to the corners of the home office, snaking out across the floor to consume the room.
Olivia blinked, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. She sat still, her hands clasped to her heart as she watched her husband. He sat slumped over the desk, dejected. A half-empty decanter of scotch and a tumbler sat before him and she watched him suck his glass dry. She bit the corner of her lip, her hands trembling as he refilled the glass. "Let me down," she said softly, hugging the giant's massive thumb.
He lowered her to the ground, the landing indeed gentle as she stood. The wood floor chilled her feet and they curled in response as she made her way to his side. She looked down at him, her heart aching as she saw what he did. A gilded picture frame, a long ago Christmas morning encased behind the glass. Young Caitlin and Sean, nestled in a mountain of wrapping paper. Herself crouched behind them, beaming with festive pride. Gregory to her right, holding her close as their faces brushed together.
Her head tilted in thought, her lips curling. The photographer? Bette, she remembered, had taken the photo, spending nearly every Christmas morning with them after losing Emily.
"Smile!" red-head had urged brightly, coaxing smiles from the family of four. "Mistletoe and eggnog!"
Olivia shivered, the camera's shutter echoing in her mind. She reached for Gregory, drawn to his achingly empty shoulder. But her hand went right through him and a tortured sob rumbled in her chest. The ice cubes clinked against the wall of tumbler as he raised it to his lips, watching the photo with such longing that she wished with all her heart she could make it so again.
"He looks sad," the ghost quietly, shuffling behind the couple.
She nodded, the tip of her nose red as she reached again for her husband. "Please?" she asked, a cry wavering her question as she looked up at him. "Let me hug him."
His button eyes fell as he shook his head. "You're can't. You're not here with him. You're only watching."
"B- but," she cried, anxiously tugging on his dark green robe, "he needs me! You don't know Gregory! He'll slowly kill himself with blame!" She spun back to her husband, hot tears running down her face as she reached again and again for him. "He and Sean need me! Please!"
The cloak flew over her again and she cried in frustration, Gregory disappearing. "No!" she shouted, angrily pounding her fists against his massive calf. "Go back! Take me back to my family! Take me back! Take me back to them right now!" Irate tears burned her flesh, her cheeks red and splotchy. She barely felt the bump as his feet touched down, her throat raw from the pain of breathing against her grief. "Please," she begged, slumping like a broken women against his leg, "take me back to my family."
An icy chill swept over Olivia and she shuddered, looking up. They were standing on a deserted hill, a cruel wind howling over them. The night was black, unmerciful and unforgiving. Her hair billowed behind her, the hem of her nightgown and robe dancing around her feet. She sniffled, wiping her face and she looked around. "Where are we?"
The ghost began to cry, deep hiccupping sobs that made her glance up. "We're in between worlds," he sobbed, blowing his nose on the sleeve of his robe. "I don't like it here. I want to go home!"
She watched him reach for the train of his robe and she cried, "Wait! Where are you going?"
"Home," he sniffed, brushing tears from his chubby cheeks.
"What about me?" An uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of Olivia's stomach and the baby began to kick frantically as ghost's eyes grew to saucers. He raised a shaky hand, his entire body trembling as he pointed behind her. Her skin crawled, the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing as ice rained over her. She turned slowly, barely noticing the loud pop as the Ghost of Christmas at the Moment vanished.
A glowing white light was making it's way up the hill, the grass shriveling and dying in its presence. Olivia pressed her hand to her stomach, rubbing it gently as the baby began to kick frantically. "It's just a bad dream," she whispered as a painfully frigid blast nearly knocked her down. "It's just a bad dream."
The light neared her and she paled, watching in stunned fear as a hooded figure floated before her. It couldn't have been more different than the previous ghosts if it tried. A robe with a sickly glow completely covered the new ghost. It's head was bowed, almost reverently as its hands were tucked into the opposite sleeves against it's frail chest.
She was frozen in terror, her feet one with the ground. Thunder rumbled in the distance, filmy frost covering everything around them. When it looked up, its head raising with a painstaking slowness, she moaned and covered her mouth. A translucent exoskeleton looked back at her, pitch-black eyes sunken into a skull. It bared its teeth menacingly and Olivia's legs were jolted back to life. She backed away quickly, forcing herself to ask, "Who are you? What do you want?"
She cringed at the underlying dread in her voice, suddenly wishing to be a child living with Helen again than in the presence of this thing. "Are- are you another ghost?"
The skull growled, hovering a generous foot off the ground. She gasped, moving faster as it neared her. "Are you the…" She faltered, running through the names of the previous ghosts in her head. "To Come?" she asked. A crack of thunder shook the ground to its core and she jumped. "The Ghost of Christmas to Come?"
It gave no response, no acknowledgement of her question. It only moved closer, bringing a biting cold that consumed her before everything went blacker than it already was.