Chapter Eleven – Shadows creep and wants grow stronger
Opening up to Judy had helped somewhat, if only to remind Bernard that there was no way he could make the right choice every time – and that sometimes there was no right choice. They were all doing the best they could in this situation. Of course, Judy had also tried to convince him that the feelings he was struggling with were actual feelings for Molly, but he refused to accept that. Judy's dating experience had been the exception, not the norm, and based on his own dating history, a swift connection simply wasn't in the cards. Or so he tried to tell himself.
Despite those efforts, it hadn't stopped Molly's tired eyes and sad smile from featuring in his dreams that night, and he awoke to a yearning to hold her until everything was alright again. A feeling, he told himself, that was nothing more than the lingering trick of the dream.
Still, he knew he wanted to do something to help give her some peace and help her feel less alone. Molly had acted without hesitation to try and bring his moods up when he was struggling with the weight of change on Christmas Eve. Now, it was his turn to repay her the same kindness.
He stuck a few extra watch batteries in his bag, changed into a more human-like outfit, and when he knew Scott would have left for work, directed his magical device to take him straight to the Calvin residence.
By now, Molly was able to pick up on the slight shift in the air that identified Bernard's arrival and turned to face him as he materialized amidst the swirling flakes. Molly grinned at the sight of him.
"What are you doing here?"
Bernard stepped forward and took the dishtowel she was holding, tossing it in the sink. "We're going somewhere to get you out of this rut." He grabbed Molly by the hand and started to adjust the location on his watch.
"I don't know what rut you're talking about," she complained stubbornly.
"The sulking," he teased. "You need to get out of your own head for a bit."
He knew the things she was struggling with were deeper than mere sulking, but she didn't strike him as the kind of person who liked to be called straight out on her looming darkness.
Bernard smirked as she followed him with no further complaint. Though he wasn't fully ready to admit it to himself, this wasn't entirely for her benefit. Since leaving her with Santa, he had barely been able to stop worrying and wondering about her. She intrigued him, having one of the strangest and most vibrant, multifaceted personalities he had ever encountered. He wanted the opportunity to spend more time with her, get to know her – on a platonic level, of course, he insisted to himself.
"Where are we going?"
"To my favourite place."
He grabbed onto Molly as he finished plugging in the coordinates and let the magic flow through him, their destination becoming his focus point. The Calvin's kitchen faded through wisps of glittery magic, slowly melting into a green jungle.
This was his oasis - his private space in the world. Untouched by mankind, this hidden space had been his thinking spot and escape for hundreds of years. Bright colourful flowers grew along jagged rocks, amidst the trees, and scattered through the long grass. In the centre of the area, at the foot of a large drop was a crystal-clear pond, filled with rainbow fish darting and dancing through the water. Foliage painted in every shade of green surrounded them, and a small grassy knoll sat perfectly beside the water.
He watched as Molly let out a long breath, staring around in amazement. The way her eyes lit up as she took in every inch of the space made Bernard feel proud. He had made the right choice in bringing her here.
"Are we…" she paused and looked around. "Is this real?" Her bewildered expression faded as a small smile itched at the corner of her mouth.
"It is," Bernard said, as he walked towards the knoll and motioned for her to follow. "Welcome to the Amazon."
Grinning at her, he snapped his fingers, his outfit instantly replaced by a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. One of the benefits of coming to this place was not needing any magic beyond getting there and back. It meant things like not having to pack a change of clothes in advance.
Molly sat down and began taking off her boots and sweater, then rolled up the base of her jeans. Standing back up, she tilted her face towards the sunlight as if absorbing its very essence. Her eyes were closed and a broad smile crossed her face. In that moment, it was almost as if she was coming back to life - as if the sun was breathing energy and light directly into her.
She stepped towards the water, cautiously, and looked over her shoulder at Bernard.
"Is the water safe?"
He nodded, and she sat down, dangling her legs and kicking the water lightly. Following her over, Bernard did the same, sitting down about a foot away from her.
"I'd love to hear more about you, about your life." He realized the small-talk statement wasn't exactly the best way to get to know her but couldn't think of another way to ease into a conversation about her.
"What do you want to know?" Her response was calm, steady, and without hesitation.
"I don't know," he replied. "You're 18 - what do you want to do with your life? Go to college? Pursue something else?"
Molly threw her head back and laughed loudly, surprising Bernard. He hadn't expected such basic questions to seem humourous.
When she stopped laughing, Molly caught his apprehension and cleared her throat. "Sorry. It's just, when you're in your last year of high school, or your victory lap, that question basically gets asked every single day." She paused, looking thoughtful. "To be honest, I'm not really sure. I planned on taking a year off to sort myself out. I've thought about maybe being a high school English teacher or a journalist, but I don't know which one I'd be better suited for."
Bernard watched her intently, noticing how she became more animated, her eyes lighting up as she spoke about these possibilities.
"Why an English teacher? Or a journalist, for that matter?"
"I love writing, and I love literature. It's like my life-blood - it's the driving force behind everything I am, everything I live for. English teacher because I would have the opportunity to help ignite this fire in other teenagers - to show them how wonderful it can truly be, and to help them find the light inside themselves that can shine through the written word. Journalism, because I want to change the world, and I believe the written word has the power to do that. To take the truth and use words to help people reconsider their views. To share the stories of others and of events that need telling through the view of someone who believes in the true goodness of humanity."
Her voice thundered with a sense of certainty while simultaneously carrying with it a soft tenderness, filled with compassion and hope. Bernard marveled at the life that came out of her words, out of her very being, as she shared the roots of her passion and explained how writing had been her best friend, even through the darkest of times.
It took him a few moments, but as he listened, he found himself enthralled by this driving force that seemed to echo from her very soul. Santa and the elves were passionate, but not in the same way. This reverberated from every ounce of her being. It burned out of her like a fire burning from her very existence.
Noticing his stare, Molly blushed. "Stop me if I'm rambling too much. I tend to go off on tangents."
He shook his head. "No, please continue. I want to hear your story."
Molly took a deep breath, and appearing slightly more composed, continued. "There were a lot of struggles in my life. I mean, in some ways I had it really easy. I'm from a middle-class family, grew up in a nice area in town, excelled at school, never went without. But in other ways, life has been hard, and it's been cruel. When everything in the world was crushing me and darkness threatened to drown me, it was my writing that kept me alive. When I didn't understand the pain and loss, my writing comforted me. Even if it was just my own thoughts swirling as I put ink to paper, it stopped them from bouncing around in my head, trapping me in my own musings. And when I wanted nothing more than to die, my writing gave me a reason to go on."
She kicked her feet in the water, then looked over at him and smiled sadly. "There has been so much hurt, so much hate in my life. I discovered a long time ago that the words that have been written for hundreds of years, and even the words I write, have a way of giving people hope. Of breathing life back into them. I want to do that for others. To give them the anchor to life that my writing gave me. To give them a reason to push through the darkness."
Bernard exhaled deeply, as if the wind had been knocked out of him. Although she hadn't gone into detail about her experiences, the power - the intensity - in which she described their impact on her hit him like a punch to the gut. Her eyes were still sad as she smiled again.
"It's silly, I know. To think that one insignificant person could be that."
This young woman - this bubbly and intense human being - carried the burdens of the world and wanted nothing more than to save it. Idealistic, maybe, but it was the kind of idealism that felt almost infectious and he found himself thinking he could listen to her talk like this for hours.
"Sorry." She looked down at the ground almost sheepishly, embarrassed again. "That turned dark real fast."
"Don't apologize." As if instinctually, Bernard reached over and held her arm lightly, giving it a squeeze. "I'm… I'm thankful you felt comfortable enough to share that with me."
She placed her hand over his in thanks and smiled, then let go. Bernard moved his hand away, unsure of what to say. As if reading his mind, Molly gave him the same sheepish, bubbly grin from when he first met her.
"Enough about me, what about you? Did you always want to be a head elf?"
Respecting her desire to change the subject, Bernard shook his head. "Actually, no. Believe it or not, I wanted to do something in the human world." He sighed, thinking back several hundred years earlier to his younger days. He was never an idealist, nothing like the girl who was watching him curiously. But he had a thirst for adventure, for immersing himself in the unfamiliar and learning about it. For him, that had been the human world. But it had only been mere wishful thinking. Something that ended as quickly as it came on.
"The Head Elves come from a group of six different elf families - similar to what you humans call 'noble' bloodlines. The eldest, or only child, from each family, are expected to attend a program designed specifically to train for the position, should it ever become available. We work in the workshop like the others until the previous head elf retires, at which point the current Santa will interview the six candidates, and with the guidance of the council, pick the new head elf."
"So you never got to pursue your own dreams?"
It was his turn to smile sadly. "Elves don't have dreams. We live for keeping the spirit of Christmas alive."
Looking pensive, Molly asked. "How old are you? I mean, in comparison to humans. Like, what "age" would you be at this stage in life if you weren't an elf?"
"Probably around 22."
Molly shuffled closer and took his hand in her own. It wasn't a romantic gesture, but meant to comfort him. Even still, there was something almost electric at her touch. She waited until he looked at her, staring him straight in the eyes. He held his breath as he stared back, the blues of her irises glistened with the same passion as before.
"You're still young, old man. When you retire from this position, you'll still be young. And then? Elven expectations be damned. Live the life you want. Because really, who's going to stop you?"
His heart thundered in his chest as he held her gaze. No-one had ever said anything like that to him before. No-one had ever believed he could be more than just head elf. And until this very moment, he hadn't even considered the possibility. But here was this human, from another world, igniting something inside him, a little whisper that life outside of Christmas could be at his fingertips.