Christmas is wonderful to me, in meaning and atmosphere. I began this story
two Christmases ago and for someone who loves Christmas so much, I haven't
been paying too much attention to this story and I am sorry for that. I am going to
do my best to finish this by Christmas 2003, but the story's being revamped. The
title is being changed to "A Vision of Christmas," and I am starting over from
chapter one. I couldn't see myself being motivated for this story unless I gave it
more depth and realness and began again. The concept will be the same, but
there will be new scenes and different approaches to scenes. I hope you will
enjoy the new version! --Star
_________________________________________
A Vision of Christmas
CHAPTER ONE
by star
Sweet Noel is singing,
Singing softly in her ear.
Blue eyes wander crying,
Echoing a Christmas tear.
_________________________________________
The dim shelter was suffocating, the winter-cast city outside lost to the heat of warm bodies bustling about in chaos. Weary eyes stared from every face, clangings rang from an unseen kitchen, babies taking turns to sound out their distress. Serena bit her lip on her frustration as a man carrying a thin cot bumped into her. She turned again to the middle-aged woman behind the counter with mousy golden curls and thin rimmed glasses, drawing in a deep breath. "Look, please," she said slowly, "I have no where else to go." She swiped at a disheveled strand of blond hair that fell in her face, her shoulders drooped wearily and her eyes bright and begging.
The woman's brow creased in sympathy, but she shook her head. "I'm sorry, young lady. It's Christmas. We're overcrowded; it's hard enough to walk in this place! We're only authorized to have so many people per shelter."
"Would one more person really make a difference?" Serena cried, her voice cracking as desperation grated on her.
The woman seemed ready to say something before gazing into Serena's pleading eyes and giving a hefty sigh. "How about getting some hot soup into you before you go?" The woman's wrinkled face of enthusiasm and hope made her appear like she was asking a little girl if she wanted a cookie.
Serena swallowed the knot in her throat as her hopes plummeted, forcing a smile to her lips as her face tried to twist in her desperation. She nodded, not trusting her tight throat, and let the woman direct her to a steamy line by a cafeteria set-up.
A little while later, Serena sat smudged between two people at one of the long tables, looking in wearily at the thin chicken noodle soup before her, idly stirring and bringing a warm sip to her mouth with the plastic spoon when she remembered to do so. A wrench of bitterness tugged at her, and she immediately tried to strike it down. She couldn't blame the shelter, couldn't be angry with the ones around her that would be able to sleep indoors. Most of them looked like they had been on the streets for some time. This was only her first day. She'd survive… somehow. Why couldn't she have lived in Florida instead of New Jersey? It would've been much warmer on the streets there. There was no snow yet, but there were icy winds, and it didn't take long for a nose to numb and a face and fingers to chill.
After lingering as long as she dared, Serena tossed out her garbage after two helpings of soup and slipped outdoors, rubbing her arms. She shut her eyes briefly, drawing in a long breath. She had to think. Where was she to go? She skirted warily around the thought of family. It only made her eyes glassy with tears and it hard to breathe. She didn't have any family. She sniffed, swiping her hand under her nose and trying to smooth down the hurt furrows of her brow. The path of self-pity was useless to go down. She refused to feel it. What other options did she have? Wasn't there anyone she knew who could take her in for a little while?
She rolled through her memory, pulling up faces from school. But she never made many friends when she changed schools to live with her aunt. Some acquaintances perhaps…She struggled. There had to be someone. Suddenly she stopped, her whole countenance seeming to float higher. Lita. Lita Granten! Serena hadn't been close with the girl, not having spoken with her since graduation, but she did know where Lita's apartment was and felt sure she would help her out.
Serena pushed through the crowds on the street only moments later, eager to get to Lita's place. After ten minutes of brisk walking, she turned onto an apartment block on the side of the dark street. It had a fair amount of ware and tear; Lita was an orphan after all, though had many more years of experience in the role compared to Serena. In any case, it was far respectable in the shadow of her Aunt's rat-infested shack. A few times in her senior year she had escaped her Aunt's cruelty or simply avoided the place when the woman brought a friend home by camping out at Lita's.
The urge to see her friend pushed Serena from her pause and she flew up the stone steps to Lita's door, knocking with an impatient fervor. Soon enough, Serena's giddy body calmed and her face drained of its luster. Dread seemed to pull her stomach down. "Lita?" Serena knocked again, trying to ignore the telltale sign that it was dark inside. She released a strangled breath, struggling against the need to kick the door and break down in tears.
Lita could have just been out for a little bit--right? Shopping, working, anything? Serena grappled for that, and much calmer, she sat herself down on the stone steps to wait. Ten minutes passed, then a half an hour, and then a few hours, and Serena still didn't want to face the prospect that Lita wasn't coming back. The sky was darkening just enough for the doorstop lights to turn on when a tired woman shuffled to one of the neighboring apartments. Serena rose quickly. "Excuse me!"
A thin face framed by sad twists and curls turned to her with a frown, eyes tired an irritated.
"Please, could you tell me where Lita Granten is? The girl in this apartment?"
The woman waved a dismissive hand at Serena, muttering a bit as she unlocked the door. "Been gone for over a week. Don't waste your time waiting," the woman's cranky voice told Serena before she disappeared inside.
Serena stepped back numbly, her arms limp at her sides as she stared at where the woman had been, her steady breaths blowing clouds in the air. Something began to ache inside her, rumbling around with her frustration and suffocating feeling of loneliness. She stumbled down the steps and twisted through a few streets as if in an ugly dream.
Her eyelids began to sink, her mind clouding in sleepiness. She passed a gathering of homeless people, some rubbing their hands by a fire in a trash can and others making pillows from cardboard boxes and rags. Suddenly a wash of dizziness struck her along with a shudder. She hurried by, sinking to the ground beneath a rusty fire escape, apart enough from the idle bums. A heap of garbage had collected beneath the iron platform of the fire escape, but the lure was the old tarp. She sat there a moment, trying not to see the people nearby though their trashcan-fires glimmered from the side of her vision. She hated their eyes, bright and hallow depths that spoke more of hard times than in any one else she had ever seen. Serena's breaths began to slow and she finally leaned over to rest on top of the tarp, her stiff, chilled fingers curling over the rough material as she shut her eyes and fell into sleep.
Darien rubbed his hand over his face, shaking his head as he wished away the tiny throbbing that budded near his temples. "You have to be mistaken." He sat on the brink of his vinyl couch in one of the more unused rooms in his house, his back hunched over as his head drooped--a position he wasn't used to but that he formed into the more the man and lady from social services across from him spoke. How could they be so calm and natural?
The woman smiled warmly from her prim position. "There is no mistake, Mr. Eddington. Renee Eddington-Laynes clearly leaves Danielle to you." Seeing the blank look on the young man's face, the woman scrambled through some papers on her lap and lifted one towards Darien. "It's right here, in her will," her words tumbled out quickly as she gestured for Darien to take the paper. "It's highlighted where she says it."
Darien didn't want to look at it, the mere mention of his mother returning the familiar broiling anger in his stomach that not even sympathy for her death eased. He reached out and fetched the paper though out of politeness and gave a half-hearted glance at it. Under the guise of reading his mother's will, his tumbling mind--loosing all the order that he cherished through college and taking on the family business--ran on recklessly. He knew he could never understand Renee, but what the hell had she been thinking leaving her and Frank Laynes' daughter to him? Even in that blonde, flighty head of hers, she must have known he couldn't take care of a little girl let alone take care of their little girl. He never forgave her for leaving his father, even though James Eddington said he didn't care a wit that the woman was gone. His father's lack of reaction was besides the point.
Taking in a slow, steady breath, Darien tried to center his thoughts. He had been caught completely unaware, in the midst of organizing the Christmas party for his new associates that was scheduled in a week. At first he had tried to turn the two social workers away, explaining it was a terrible time for him, but the shy little girl with frosty-blonde curls, cheeks rosy from the cold, and hazel eyes an exact replica of his mother's stopped him cold. He had never seen his little sister, Danielle Laynes, as he had ignored his mother's existence since her marriage to Frank Laynes. He knew of his mother's death and Frank's "disappearance" but could hardly fathom why their daughter was in the foyer of his house! Though, an odd pit of suspicion formed despite his bewilderment. The little seed was now nourished to an oak tree of dread and denial.
Finally, he looked up at the social workers, trying to fight to remember the woman's name as she seemed to be the one in charge. "Mrs. Tyres," he began slowly, handing back the will, "I don't know why my mother thought me to be Danielle's guardian, but I just can't do it. You're going to have to find someone else. Look, this really isn't a good time. I have two guests arriving any moment."
The two social workers shared deflated and worried looks. Mrs. Tyres straightened her shoulders as she gathered a breath and turned her gaze imploringly at the successful but somewhat-caught-off-guard young man across from her. "Mr. Eddington. I understand this is a bad time, but she is your sister. If you absolutely cannot, Danny can be placed in another foster home for Christmas until permanent arrangements can be made for her with someone else, but I plead with you to rethink this. Danny has just lost both of her parents and she has not been comfortable in the foster homes she's been placed in thus far. They're strangers to her. What if she just stayed with you for the holidays?"
Darien frowned. "Mrs. Tyres, maybe you don't know it but they are no more strangers to her than I am."
"But you are her brother," the woman cried heartfully.
Darien shut his eyes against the frustration. "Look, I'm not a scrooge but--" Suddenly, he stopped and he stiffened shoulders drooped in defeat. "All right, all right. She can stay. Just for the holidays."
The two social workers looked relieved beyond belief. Mrs. Tyres beamed at him. "That's wonderful. Thank you, Mr. Eddington. I'm sure Danny will enjoy it here. We'll just fetch her things and--"
Darien's head came up swiftly. "Now? I mean, she's moving in this moment?"
Mrs. Tyres rose an eyebrow. "Is that a problem?"
Darien bit his tongue and shook his weary head. "No, there's no problem. One of the maid's can help her get settled in." Darien forced his breaths to stay calm. His mind was pulled and twisted in frantic knots as suddenly alarm bells, not sleigh bells, rang clear.
Unknown to the adults, Danielle Laynes had curled up in the hall outside the room the social workers and brother had talked in. Sniffing, she swiped her sleeve under her reddened nose, her chin just barely trembling as her eyes crinkled in tears. He didn't want her. He said she could stay for Christmas, but he still didn't want her.
Why did Mama leave her? Maybe the boy at her last foster home was right. No one loved her anymore. People were taking care of her, but they didn't really want to. The realization hurt. She hugged her arms tightly around herself, scrambling to her feet as Mrs. Tyres and Mr. Brambleton came out to find her.
Mrs. Tyres gave her a big hug with a happy smile. "It looks like you're going to stay with your brother for Christmas. Isn't that wonderful, Sweetie?"
Danielle didn't know what to say so smiled back at the woman. The smile, however, faded too quickly to be real let alone reach her wide eyes. She quietly followed the two as they led her to the stairs where a maid that looked like she had too many things running around her mind stood. The maid gave her a quick smile before hurrying her up to a room, mumbling something about a party and so much to do as she took Danielle's hand and led her up the staircase.
Danielle didn't listen to the woman, too distracted by the grand surroundings. Did her brother own all of that? Even though he didn't want her, there was a sprout of awe in her. He must have really been somebody. Mama and Papa had a lot of money, but their home hadn't been nearly so big or intimidating.
The maid brought her to a very large room that was decorated fancy like her parent's bedroom had been--an adult bedroom. The old maid chattered as she quickly moved to change Danielle into a nicer dress. Was she going to the Christmas party she heard about? Maybe it would be fun? But she didn't let herself think of that for long. Fun or not, she wasn't wanted. The maid exclaimed about Danielle's silence, but Danielle still didn't speak. She was always quiet. Maybe that was why no one seemed to want her. Either way, her little mind amidst her loneliness resolved to run away.
Serena walked into the small but crowded restaurant, feeling more uncomfortable doing so than she thought she ever could be. Stares made her face red for another reason besides the cold. But the heat from inside cradled around her sore, frigid skin and she could not bring herself to walk out. She had every right to be there, she insisted to herself as she walked farther in, her eyes glued to the ground as she maneuvered herself to a table for two. Though the passing days were sometimes lost to her, it had been nearly two weeks and she knew she looked just as grungy and "uncivilized" as the seasoned penniless bums. The last time she had stolen into a bathroom and had a look in the mirror, she had trouble seeing herself. Her face seemed paler, her becoming dip beneath her high cheekbones had hallowed sickly from hunger; dirt smudged on her skin no matter how many times she scrubbed at it. Her lips were still their rosy pink, but they stroked an expressionless line. Her eyes were still their impossible blue, but they looked glassy and lost. Her golden blonde hair had framed around the sad sight, an oily mass tangled and wild, ever growing down her back.
Serena quietly ordered a hot pastry and water, not daring to buy anything more even though her stomach cried for a real meal. Her eyes never lifted from the table even for the waitress, her eyelashes fluttering, bland gaze centered on the checkered tablecloth before falling to temptation and flickering up to roam around the room. She caught sight of a few older couples, a tired business person hunched over coffee and papers, and three young men in baggy clothes standing in a corner. One of them in a ski-hat with a goatee laughed and carelessly gestured a hand at her.
Grinding her teeth, Serena dragged her attention back to the table, her body stiff as she waited for her food. Not even a minute later, someone slumped loudly into the chair opposite her and two other forms skimmed her vision. A wave of unease snaked through her, her eyes—still stubbornly set on the tablecloth pattern—flittering about in alarm.
"Well, if it isn't a little beggar girl," the guy grinned across from her, his buddies chuckling in support.
Serena sat quietly, pretending he wasn't there.
The guy hunched over his side of the table, folding his hands and nodding his head at her silence and looking at his friends before turning back to her. "Hey Sweetheart, you got some dirt on that pretty little cheek of yours," he told her, his hand coming up to rub the side of Serena's face. Serena jerked back sharply, finally staring at him, her lips taught. The three only seemed amused at her reaction, and the boy once again lifted his hand towards her with a grin on his face.
Serena flinched, longingly thinking of the money she spent on her food as she prepared to high-tail it out of there. Before she could do so though, a sharp female voice snapped at her harrassers. "Leave her alone!"
The two guys stepped back with easy smiles and the one sitting across from Serena sent the waitress an appreciative glance. "Hey baby, we're just having some fun. Why—"
"Don't you dare call me Baby. If you don't leave right this seconds I swear I will call the cops!"
Serena drew in a slow breath, carefully watching the guys opposite of her. The one sitting at the table gave her a lingering glance before standing up. For a moment it seemed like he was challenging the young waitress but with a nod at his lackeys, the three walked out.
Serena shut her eyes for a moment, releasing her held breath until she heard the bells of the door. Her nerves felt frayed.
"Are you all right?"
Serena lifted her head, for the first time getting a good look at her waitress. A girl around her own age stood there in a starch-white blouse and black pants and apron, hair shades blonder than Serena's own rolling down her slim figure. Compassionate dark blue eyes looked back at her in concern.
Nodding, Serena tried to find her voice. "Yes—thank you," she managed softly before the blonde proceeded to set her food before her.
"Those guys were such jerks," the waitress muttered, placing her hands on her hips. "They deserve more than coal in their stockings! If they hadn't have left I wouldn't have just called the cops—I would've given them a beating where it hurts." The girl declared this with a gleam in her indigo eyes as she primly crossed her arms.
Serena laughed, the first real humor she had been able to relish in for a terribly long time. Something eased at her hurting spirit and she was about to respond to the friendly waitress when her eyes caught on the food the girl had placed before her. She looked tentatively up at her waitress. "Excuse me… but I didn't order all this," she informed, sadly pushing the tempting meal with sides and dessert cake, gaze flittering also over the coffee besides her water. The girl must've mixed hers with someone else. But the waitress shook her head with a bright smile.
"You need your strength," she said simply. "It's on the house."
Serena opened her mouth to refuse—grateful for the girl's action but nonetheless worried that she'd get in trouble with her boss. Before she could, the sunny blonde held out her hand. "Mina Thatcher," she introduced.
Smiling softly and letting her refusal drop, Serena took the girls hand. "Serena Brentan."
"Miss? Miss!" a disgruntled diner called.
Mina gave loud groan, rolling her eyes. "I better get goin', but come again." The girl's blue eyes crinkled mischievously. "If those guys ever bother you again, hit 'em where it hurts!"
With a wink, the girl flew away to another table. Serena gazed down at her lunch-dinner, picking up a roll and proceeding to butter it with a peaceful smile.
Some time later, Serena weaved through the cold streets towards where she had made camp under the fire escape. The gray sky above was darkening for the evening, and she had quickly realized during being homeless that there were certain back streets not to step into at night. Being in one of those herself as it was a shortcut, her neck prickling uneasily as it tended to do, she was considerably relieved when a stray dog whinnied and hurried after her brisk walk.
"Hey Cinnamon," Serena said softly, her breath giving a steamy cloud. The dog trotting beside her turned his head, gazing attentively. Serena dug out a few scraps from her meal and lowered her hand for Cinnamon to eagerly gobble up. The dog with a matty brown coat had approached her some days earlier, and due to the cinnamon bun that Serena was rationing seeming to be the cause, she appropriately named him. She smiled at the mutt's loyal eyes before sighing and continued walking back to her alley.
Sometimes she could hear carried voices and the bustle from the streets. Her sad, stormy eyes envisioned the shoppers. There were surely stress and irritation in their holiday chaos as they moved about the streets, but they really didn't know how good they had it. They could return to a warm home, perhaps even to loved ones. Serena could not. In her daydreams she pictured excited children tugging at their parents. She had used to do that to her parents, she recalled tearfully. She'd bounced as if on a sugar-high, dragging her mom from one shop to the other, pointing at prospective teddy bears for their mother-daughter Christmas tradition. Her father would shake his head and follow with a gentle smile. Sammy… her little bro, just a toddler. She would cart him around in her small arms with a brilliant smile, pointing out toy scenes to him.
God, how she missed them. Her heartache grew heavier with the thought of the anniversary of their death drawing near. This was to be her first real Christmas without them. Last year's Christmas was scarred by the fateful day only days later from the joyous occasion. When she thought of that time last year, she could only think of the sorrow, but right now, as she walked in the cold, she played cherished memories from that Christmas like a lifeline. In her mind's eye, all those memories were bathed in a warm yellow light.
Serena walked through the small gathering of other homeless people, smiling and nodding at a grungy man who told her with a child's excitement that the church down the road would be serving spaghetti the next day. She past them quietly as always, her mind lost. Sweet chimes of Noel echoed from afar. It was Cinnamon's strange behavior that dragged her attention back when she was just a few steps from her makeshift bed. The dog was whinnying and lifting his head in the air, beginning to pace. Serena watching him with a tilt of her head as he strayed over to a junk pile against the brick wall, surprised at the sound of a child's cry. She flew over the cracked pavement, peeling away some cardboard. Cinnamon barked proudly at finding the source of his confusion, but Serena barely heard him. A girl with frosty-blonde curls in a party dress stared up at her with hazel eyes brimmed with tears.
* * *
StarInMyPocket.net