Christmas Eve day was a flurry of activity once again. She would have thought by now they would have had some sort of idea of what to expect, but each year it was a brand new experience. As their daughter grew so did their experiences and they had to change everything once again.
This year as a four year old she fully got Christmas and all that came with it. She was an active participant, in a positive way too. She genuinely wanted to help out the adults in the bunker and had ideas and thoughts that were helpful and not destructive.
Mother and daughter had spent the majority of their day baking and decorating cookies for Santa, place and bake of course, while singing along to all the Christmas songs played over the speakers. Dinner was a full bunker family affair as well, with take out. And the entire day came to a close with everyone watching movies until it was time for the small child to go to sleep.
She had begged her parents for two stories that night, one normal book and a Christmas book, which they gave into…they usually did.
"Good night Lydia." Her mother said tucking in the blankets around her daughter. "The sooner you go to sleep the sooner Santa will come."
"Mommy, is Santa going to come?" The four year old asked, a serious look upon her face.
"Of course why wouldn't he? You've been good this year right?" She responded without skipping a beat.
The child thought for a moment before answering, "I think so."
"Then why wouldn't be come?"
"Because how does he know where we live?"
The mother looked over at her partner hoping for support on this.
"What do you mean?" He asked picking up on her cues.
"Well we live underground. Can Santa find us if we live underground?" She continued.
Clearly this was something she had been thinking about all day and not just a last minute thought to get out of falling asleep.
"Santa knows where everyone lives." Was her only response.
"But how? We don't have a chimney for him to come down? Or really any house at all! What if he passes over us cause he forgets we live here?"
The parents could see she was starting to get worked up over her worries, something neither of them wanted.
"Santa would never forget about you." He quickly said trying to think on the spot.
Their daughter always kept them on their toes with her antics and ideas. Sometimes she was too smart for her own good and ended up worrying herself more than she had to.
"How do you know?" She countered.
"Has he ever forgotten you before?" She asked back quickly.
The four year old shook her head no.
"Then why would this year be any different?"
Again the child had no words and only shrugged her shoulders.
"You have nothing to worry about Lydia. Santa would never forget about you. He knows that you are a very special girl and not having a chimney or a house isn't going to stop him from visiting"
The child still didn't look convinced though as she looked at both her parents trying to find a counter argument.
"We promise Lydia that when you wake up in the morning Santa will have arrived with tons of presents for you."
"You do?" She asked in a worried tone.
"Yes, but the only way to see if our promise will come true is for you to go to sleep."
He gently pushed her down and once again tucked the covers around her.
"Will you sing to me?" She asked in such a sweet and innocent tone they couldn't say no.
"What do you want?" Her mother asked.
"A Christmas song please."
"A Christmas song?" She had to pause for a moment to think. All day long they had been signing and dancing to upbeat songs, ones that would not be helpful in calming a child.
Finally something popped into her mind. She didn't know what was the reason for that song, but it was the only one that resembled a lullaby so it would have to do.
As she ran a soothing hand over the brown curls she began to sing, "Greeting cards have all been sent. The Christmas rush is through. But I still have one wish to make. A special one for you."
On the you she playfully bopped her daughter on the nose causing her to giggle and finally a smile appeared on her face.
"Daddy sing too!" She demanded.
"You know Daddy doesn't sing bug." He reminded her.
"Please Daddy." She begged.
It was hard to resist her and those big blue eyes and he let out a groan.
"Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you."
His partner smiled up at him. She knew he wasn't a fan of singing, but when their daughter was upset he was willing to do anything to calm her. So mother and father continued to sing the second verse. Their daughter looked up at them with wide eyes her attention fully on their voices. By the chorus she was singing along with them too unable to be a passive participant anymore.
They let the original leader finish off the last verse by herself, both of them wrapped in the soothing sound of her voice. After all she was the best singer of them all. The parents had a strong feeling their daughter inherited that talent from her too. She had a pretty good singing voice for a four year old and the mother knew she was going to have a lot of fun nourishing that talent.
"I wish I were with you." She sang out the final line, her voice just above a whisper.
The child's eyes were finally closed and didn't seem to be opening up again.
"Good night Lydia, we love you." She whispered.
"Love you too." Their daughter mumbled back before finally falling asleep.
Both parents gave her a final kiss and tip toed out of the bedroom.
"What took you guys so long?" Their friend asked when the pair finally entered back into the living room. "Did Lydia go down okay?"
Everyone must have noticed the long faces on the parents because the mood in the room changed.
"Lydia asked us if a Santa was coming tonight because she was worried that he didn't know where we live since we're in a bunker." He explained with a sigh.
The room was silent unable to come up with a response. Living in a bunker was hard on all of them, but the toughest on the youngest member of the team. She had no idea what life was like outside these dingy four walls, except for the doctors office and the park. They all tried their best to make her life appear normal, but sometimes it was tough.
"What did you tell her?" Their other friend asked finally finding the words.
"That Santa knows where everyone lives and he wouldn't forget her." She said with a scoff.
Her partner sat down on the chair and she easily folded into his lap. The days activities and the conversation had drained her emotionally and physically.
"And she believed it?"
"Not really, but hopefully she'll wake up tomorrow and see everything under the tree and know he came." He added on.
More silence followed that.
"I want to take out Rittenhouse this year, for good." She spoke up so firmly that everyone looked at her in shock. "I don't care what it takes, I want them gone."
"We all do Lucy." He said trying to comfort her.
"No I am done with them! I am sick of having to raise our daughter in here because of them. No child should have the fears she does. And it's not even about Santa. Every time we jump in that lifeboat she is afraid we won't come home or of us being hurt. I just want to raise our daughter like everyone else. She's growing so much and way too fast, I don't want her missing out on anything else. Is that too much to ask?"
She was near tears at this point, but she took a shaky breath in trying to control them.
"Of course it isn't."
"Good, because that's all want. This time next year I want us all to be above ground celebrating Christmas at someone's house. Hopefully with a chimney, but that's negotiable."
"So our New Year's Resolution is to defeat Rittenhouse for good." Their friend chimed in trying to lighten the mood.
"Yes." She smiled.
"Well then, here's to a Merry a Christmas and our last one in this bunker."
He picked a Christmas cookie off of the table and the other five adults copied him.
"Cheers." They all laughed and clinked their cookies together.
As she but into her's she finally felt at peace. She didn't know how they were going to defeat their enemies for good, but she did know that this group who had become her family would do anything for her daughter. As a team they would find a way to get rid of Rittenhouse once and fir all, she had never felt more thankful for them.