Chapter 1: Do you believe?
Two little faces peered into the window of a tidy little ranch house in a suburban neighborhood. Snow fell and stuck to their ski hats and scarves, and melted upon their pointed ears. Christmas music seemed to drift upon the air. It was Christmas Eve, and it had just reached midnight. Peering into the window, they looked at each other and giggled, then pressed buttons upon the jet packs attached to their backs. With a burst of flame, they flew into the winter sky.
From the home below, smoke curled into the sky. Hoof prints marked a ragged line across the rooftop, leading to the very edge and then somehow, magically, into the sky. Children's laughter seemed to mingle with the brisk winter night air.
"Charlotte," Charlie whispered, his eyes glowing in the moonlight. "Wake up, sweetheart. I want you to meet someone." The little girl rubbed her eyes sleepily, and tried to sit up. Smiling, Charlie lifted her into his arms, and carried her to the living room. "Look, Charlotte," he said, pointing. Charlotte's eyes grew large as she watched the speck in the sky grow larger until the sleigh and reindeer were visible, then landing softly upon the front lawn.
"Is it Santa, Daddy?" The little girl's bright blue eyes met her father's as he nodded, the old excitement visibly surfacing within him. Charlotte's eyes grew large as her attention turned again to what was going on outside. "I thought that he always lands on the roof," Charlotte said. Charlie laughed.
"Usually he does. At our house he lands on the lawn so that there's no chance he can fall off." Little Charlotte's mouth formed an O as she processed this information. As she watched, Santa walked to the front door and quietly entered, without seeming to need to open it at all. Charlie stood, carrying the small girl, and greeted St. Nick at the door. "Merry Christmas, Charlie!" the jolly elf said, embracing the two spies. "And Merry Christmas, Charlotte. Have you been a good girl this year?" Charlotte nodded emphatically. "Good! Then I have something very special for you," Santa said, handing the girl a small package. "Now off to bed; Santa has to finish putting the presents under the tree!" Charlotte nodded solemnly, wriggled out of her father's grasp, and ran on short legs down the hall to her bedroom. Charlie grinned after her.
"Hi Dad," he whispered. "How's Christmas going?" His father grinned. "Wonderful, as always. It's amazing how much joy there really is in the world. Little ones like Charlotte are so steady in their belief in magic." Charlie smiled. He began to ask his father if he'd like something to eat or drink, then stopped, embarrassed. Scott Calvin laughed, his stomach shaking just like the proverbial bowl of jelly.
"Thanks, Charlie, but I'm afraid I have to run," he said. "Take good care of my granddaughter. And Merry Christmas!"
"Merry Christmas," Charlie breathed, as his dad entered his sleigh and disappeared into the night.
Even with the strong connection her family had with the Christmas holidays, 32 year old Danielle Calvin hated Christmas shopping. Especially in the mall. Despite the pervading theme of holiday cheer that decorated each store and kiosk, people would run down their best friends just to get finished quickly. She wished that being Santa's daughter in law meant access to the super secret workshop at the North Pole.
As she finished dragging her 5 year old daughter from shop to shop, they saw a reasonably short line in front of a Santa Clause sitting in a photo booth. Charlotte grinned; whether from amusement or excitement Danielle did not know. The girl had been excited about the upcoming holidays, but strangely distant every time she asked if the girl would like to relay her Christmas wishes to mall Santas.
"Would you like to get your picture taken with Santa, sweetie?" Danielle asked, looking at her daughter's rapt face.
"If you want me to, Mommy," was the strange reply. Danielle wondered why she couldn't just have a normal family who did normal things around the holidays. Suddenly needing something mainstream in her life, she entered the line with Charlotte. After a brief ten minute wait, Charlotte was allowed to climb up on the man's lap.
The little girl looked up into the whiskered face with wide, blue eyes.
"You're not really Santa," she said. The little eyes were filled with such intelligence that the man could not lie.
"Why would you say that, my dear?" he asked.
"I've seen Santa," the girl replied. "He has blue eyes, like me." The fake Santa laughed, giving the girl a little hug.
"Well, Santa needs a lot of help so that all the little boys and girls around the world feel that they can talk to him," the man explained.
"I know," Charlotte whispered. "I won't tell them, I promise." The little girl grinned and slipped from the man's lap, scurrying back to her mother. As she walked away, hands gripping her parent's, the man in the Santa suit shook his head. Kids; they were something else.
"I SAW you drinking the milk!" A teary eyed 9 year old confronted her father, standing akimbo.
"Charlotte, Santa told me that he was running behind. He wanted to save our house for last, and in case he didn't make it in time, he didn't want you to be disappointed. He asked me to help out."
"You don't have to lie," Charlotte said, suddenly serious. "None of the kids in my class believe in Santa. They told me I was gullible. I guess I don't believe anymore either." Charlie and Danielle looked at each other. Charlie looked heartbroken.
"Well, you have to make up your own mind, Charlotte," her mother said. "But we're not lying when we tell you that Santa Claus is as real as we are." Charlotte shook her head, and sadly left the room. Charlie heard her bedroom door close before he turned to his wife with tears in his eyes.
"She doesn't believe," he said softly.
Snow crunched underneath Charlotte's feet as she made her way back out to the car for the last box. Finally on her own, she had put the deposit in on her first apartment earlier that day. Snowflakes melted on her nose, making her shiver despite the layers of wool and fleece that she wore. Char's best friend, Kate, had been there earlier, working right beside her, but the winter night had fallen, and the friends had separated. Now Charlotte faced the prospect of her first night alone in a new place.
Carefully placing the last box on a table in the front hall, Char took off her boots, scarf, hat and coat and hung them in the hall closet. The room was in disarray, but the television, couch, bed, and radio were set up and ready to be used. Absently plugging in the hot pot to make herself a mug of hot chocolate, she roamed around and tried to find homes for some of her belongings. Ten minutes later, mug in hand, she sank onto the couch and turned on the television. In honor of the approaching holidays, TNT was showing a series of classic Christmas movies, and tonight's was 'Holiday Inn.'
If it hadn't been a Saturday, she wouldn't have allowed herself to get so comfortable on the couch. But after an entire day working, and another weekend day to go, she snuggled up under a fleece blanket and allowed her eyes to droop. The ring on her right hand sparkled in the ambient light from the television; her school logo and the initials denoting her bachelor of science in English Lit cast strange shadows across her fingers.
If Char had been awake, she would have seen two sets of eyes peering in the window at her.
"Bernard," she breathed, her eyes growing wide. She took a step back and fell into darkness. Toys of all shapes and colors fell past, in a blur of color. The laughing face of Santa Claus flashed past. She felt like Alice in Wonderland, falling through the rabbit hole in a dreamlike haze. When she finally felt her feet connect with the ground, she collapsed, her eyes surrendering to sleep.
"I had that dream again." Charlotte looked at her friend, and tried to express the seriousness of the dream. Kate simply blinked, and grinned.
"What, the one with the Christmas elf asking you for help?" Charlotte's face turned red.
"I know it sounds cheesy, but I feel like something's drawing me in. Like I should be doing something to help." Kate laughed, a lyrical sound that reminded Charlotte of just how much charisma her friend had. "And you know how my family is with Christmas," she reminded.
"Less chocolate before bed, Char." Charlotte grinned, uncomfortable letting the subject lie, but unwilling to act like a psycho in front of her best friend.
"So what are you getting me for Christmas?" she asked.
Bernard raised an eyebrow at his boss.
"She's not listening. She thinks it's a dream." Santa, a.k.a. Scott Calvin, looked down at his number one elf.
"She's a smart kid. She'll figure it out." Bernard rolled his eyes, running through all the possibilities in his mind.
"She has a crush on me, you know." Bernard addressed his superior in a condescending tone. "900 years my junior, and she looks at me with those eyes that say she's been waiting all day to fall asleep and talk to me again. Only your offspring would turn out to be so confused," the head elf snickered. Santa Claus eyed the elf carefully. He knew Bernard was trying to bait him, but he also knew the elf was incapable of lying. His granddaughter was, in fact, hopelessly romantic, and tended to fly after any young male who paid any amount of attention to her.
Charlotte was sitting at the desk in her living room, glasses perched on her nose, typing furiously on her laptop. IM boxes popped up and then momentarily disappeared again as she held simultaneous conversations.
Charlotte's eyes grew wide. The workshop; the little childlike people moving from place to place, hammering on toys; it was like a scene from a child's storybook.
"So, this is my dream, right?" Charlotte asked, looking at him intently.
"Uh. . . sure," Bernard answered, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. The girl simply would not believe in the reality of the situation.
"So then, can I kiss you?" Bernard coughed, his eyes growing wide.
"What?"
"Can I kiss you? Since it's a dream, and I have control of my dreams, I just thought I'd ask . . . if you don't me want to, it's okay." Bernard battled with himself for many moments. The girl thought it was a dream, he reasoned, what was the harm? But at the same time, if she ever realized the reality of the situation. . .
"You have to promise never to tell your grandfather," Bernard finally decided. Charlotte looked slightly confused, but nodded.
"I promise."
"You know, you're a lot younger than I am," the elf breathed, his eyes connecting with hers. He moved until his eyes were just inches from Charlotte's.
"I don't care," was Charlotte's response. "I believe in you, and that's all that matters." With a swift move, Bernard captured her lips in his own. As his arms surrounded her, Charlotte felt a surge of magic envelope her. Eyes closed, she snaked a hand around his neck, and pulled him closer to her. Despite her subconscious telling her that this was all a dream, Charlotte was swept up in the warmth and passion of the kiss. Hundreds of years of magic and youth and love seemed to communicate itself to her in the moments while Bernard kissed her and drew her closer with warm hands. When they finally parted, she gasped, burying her face in his neck. Bernard's eyes stayed wide open, as he struggled to come to grips with the situation.
"Merry Christmas," he whispered in her ear, before fading from sight.
"Hold on," Bernard warned her, glancing backward at his charge. Charlotte gripped the side of the saddle, eyes wide. The reindeer lurched forward, and she gasped, then grabbed Bernard around the waist. The elf chuckled softly, then clucked to the animal, who started running toward the expanse of snow and ice. Charlotte clutched Bernard's tunic tightly and held on as if her life depended on it as Prancer rose into the air, galloping upon the air currents.
"Magic!" Charlotte breathed, huddling close to Bernard as the cold air whipped past them.