Chapter 2: That Holiday Feeling
His stomach full at last, Glenn finally remembered the watch in his pocket, and announced, "It says it's December 19th. Less than a week until Christmas." He looked up to see a somber cast fall over the faces around him and winced, adding, "Sorry. I wasn't thinking." The approach of the holiday season hadn't even registered with any of them - they'd been too busy trying to survive, and figure out how they would get through the winter. It was their first Christmas since the virus attacked, and none of them could help now but think of loved ones lost, and past lives torn apart. It put a pall over what had been up to that point the best day they'd known in a long, long while.
"It'll be the winter solstice in just a day or two," Carol mused. "The shortest day of the year; or the longest night, if you want to look at it that way. I guess maybe it depends on whether you're an optimist or a pessimist." We should do something special, she thought. "We should do something. To celebrate. I mean - right here, right now, we're safe. And almost warm. And we have hot food in our bellies, and we have each other. That's not something we should take for granted." Around her, faces began to brighten a little with interest.
"I don't know," she continued, "I'm not sure I want to celebrate Christmas, in particular - no offense, Hershel, but I'm not feeling all that kindly toward God these days, and I don't know what the rest of you believe in, or even if you believe. But I think it's worth taking just a little time to appreciate what we have. I guess we missed Thanksgiving, but we could sort of think of it as a combined Thanksgiving/Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa…" She abruptly ran out of winter holidays, and ended up with "That would make it Thank-mas-kah-zaa?" Her rapt audience broke up laughing.
"Well, me, I was raised in the church, but I pretty much stopped going once I was out of my mama's house," offered T-Dog.
"My grandfather was Buddhist, but my parents didn't follow any religion, and I've never really thought about it much. But I like Christmas," chimed in Glenn. Rick and Lori were both raised Protestant, but weren't much for regular church attendance; Beth and Hershel had been the most devout among them, but both admitted to having found their faith severely tested by the events of the previous months. Maggie declined to add anything about her own beliefs; Carol suspected that was mostly out of deference to her father's feelings. Daryl, unsurprisingly, was silent on the subject.
"I have a suggestion," Glenn said. "Don't laugh, now, I think you'll like it. I had a bunch of friends who were active in the SCA - that's the Society for Creative Anachronism; you know, the people who get dressed up in armor and hold tournaments, and talk like they're from the Middle Ages, and get all hot under the collar if someone's wearing something that's 'not period'?" He got a mix of nods, smiles, and confused looks from around the table. "Anyway, they do - used to do - something they called a Bardic Circle. That's where everyone gets together - and drinks, usually, but we don't have to do that part - and everyone has to contribute something to the entertainment, like a story, or a song, or a poem. It's so there's no separation between who's the performers and who's the audience. It's like people used to do, back before there was television and stuff." His headlong and somewhat muddled explanation brought smiles all around,
"So what the fuck we supposed to do if we don't know any stories? and you sure as hell don't want me to sing," asked Daryl, sneering.
"Language, Daryl," murmured Hershel. "We are in a house of God."
"No, we ain't, old man. We're in a kitchen. And I still wanna know what y'all expect me to do."
"There are books here," said Beth. "Story books for the kids, and there are some bookshelves I saw down that hall - some nature things, and I think maybe even some poetry. I bet you could find something in there." Daryl eyed the girl suspiciously, but that seemed to appease him. "And we could sing carols - Carol," she grinned. "Everybody here probably knows at least 'Silent Night' and 'Jingle Bells' and… oh, a bunch of others."
"We'd have to keep it down, though," Rick reminded them. "We've been lucky today, and we don't want to attract unwanted attention. Otherwise, it's the best idea I've heard in a long time. It's nice to have something to look forward to." That decided it for everyone, and they spent what remained of the afternoon in a state of cheerful oblivion, thinking and talking about what they wanted to share.
Carol wandered off to see what she might find in the church's office - a bible, at the very least; loss of faith or not, she thought it likely that Hershel and Beth might find some comfort in reading that familiar Christmas story. For that matter, so might she. On the wall, she found a calendar that confirmed that the following night was the solstice, and the day's square also contained the words "Christmas Revels, 7:00 p.m.," written in pen. Some sort of holiday gathering, she guessed, and then was struck to the heart by the utter sadness of it. "They would have been here," she said aloud, and she sank down into a chair and put her face in her hands.
"Who woulda been here?" Daryl asked from the doorway.
She startled, snapping her head up to meet his eyes. Even indoors he could be as quiet as a cat.
"The people who worshiped here, Daryl; they had something planned for tomorrow night. They would have been here, celebrating with their families and friends, and now where are they?" She could hear the sharpness rising in her voice, almost panic, but somehow she couldn't control it. "They're dead, or undead, or running and hiding, just like us. And here we are in their home, using up their supplies, eating off of their dishes..." She knew it was ridiculous, especially after they'd broken into so many homes for exactly the same purposes, but suddenly she felt like an intruder, like they were uninvited guests crashing a private party.
He crossed the room and crouched in front of her, balancing himself with a hand on her knee. Unexpectedly, he reached up and wiped away the tears that she hadn't even realized were streaming down her face. "Hey. None of that's your fault, Carol. We're just tryin' to get by. An' I don't think these people would begrudge us the chance to hide out here; I been lookin' around, and these were people who cared a lot about others. Just look at the posters around here; here's one about a food drive, and there's one outside about a fundraiser for a women's shelter. There's more down the hall, too, different things. They wasn't the type to have Jesus up their asses on Sunday morning and then spit on some poor homeless bastard on the way home. I think they'd like it that they could help us."
Carol stared at him, positively stunned. "Daryl Dixon, I think that is probably the most words I've ever heard you say on any one topic, in all the time I've known you." He scowled at her and turned away, muttering under his breath, Aww, hell… "Wait, Daryl, please?" She stood and reached out, laying her hand on his arm to stop him. "Thank you. I'm not sure what the world's coming to when you're the voice of reason, but…" He heard the teasing note in her voice and side-eyed her, certain she was going to say something else to aggravate him, but she simply brushed a kiss against his cheek and gave his arm a small squeeze. "You're right. If that's the kind of people they were, they probably would have given us what we've taken, if we'd asked them."
He nodded, and something that might have been taken for a smile flitted across his face. "So you okay now?" She nodded back, and he continued, "Good, 'cause I need your help figurin' out what I'm gonna do for this thing you roped me into." He looked closely down into her face, his expression suggesting he didn't much like what he saw. "Might wanna wipe your eyes 'fore you go back out, though. You been weepy all day, people are startin' to worry. " He shoved a bandanna into her hands and nodded for her to use it, a faint frown on his face. Hm, she thought. People were starting to worry. Couldn't be that tough-guy Daryl himself was concerned, not at all.
As she left the office, Carol noticed a three-ring binder on a shelf, with the words "Christmas Revels" printed on the spine. Inside were the materials for the planned festivities, which appeared to be an annual event dating back a number of years. Thumbing through it, she found copies of readings, poems, and songs that had been part of the program. She took the binder with her and returned to the kitchen, lost in her thoughts.