Topic: Christmas Promises

Katrina Nichols

Date: 2014-11-22 07:04 EST
It had been nearly fifty years since it had snowed at Christmas in England, but somehow the weather never failed to make an impression on the season. Kit had done her best to brighten the old house with twinkling lights and evergreen decorations, filling the Christmas tree with decorations she had made and those she had found in the attic. Christmas Eve had always been her favorite part of the season, and without fail, she always attended Midnight Mass, though she never attended church through the rest of the year. This year, she came home in the light-spangled darkness in thoroughly high spirits, singing at the top of her lungs, heedless of the neighbors she might have disturbed on her way past. No doubt the house, and its ghostly master, heard her coming the moment she stepped onto the drive, warbling her way through favorite carols as she went.

" ...oooooooooria, hosanna in excelsis!" reverberated through the old house as she stepped over the threshold, untangling her scarf from her neck as she lifted her voice. "Merry Christmas!" Whether Randal was there to respond or not, it seemed that Kit's determination to enjoy Christmas was fully buoyant in the aftermath of the holy celebration.

Over the past month or so since the visit from Isabelle, the resident ghost had been in evidence far more than he had been before. It was almost as if something had changed, not only in him, but in the house in general, which seemed lighter, brighter, and happier than before, as if reflecting the mood of its master. Now that Randal knew there was some hope in the future, that Kit really did love him, that all he needed was a little bit of faith, his entire demeanor had changed from gloomy to optimistic. Though he couldn't truly enjoy the holiday the way he wanted, he was at least grateful for Kit's presence and hopeful they'd celebrate many happy Christmases in the future once the curse was broken. By the time she arrived home from church, a shadowy silhouette could be seen in the window watching for her arrival.

Full of beans, Kit bounced her way up the stairs and into the music room, which she had hung with delicate fairy lights twisted through the evergreen garlands for the season. Her face lit up, bright smile growing brighter on finding Randal standing by the window. "Happy Christmas, Randal," she declared happily, skipping over to the piano and starting up a rousing rendition of We Wish You A Merry Christmas, just because.

Randal laughed, not because he thought Kit was funny but because it was heartening to see her so happy. Christmas had always been his favorite holiday, once upon a time, and with her help, it just might become his favorite again. "Happy Christmas, Kit," he echoed as she bounced into the room and plunked herself down at the piano. Like the rest of the house, even the music room had undergone a change. The drop cloth had been removed from the piano, and the room had been cleaned and spruced up and decorated in honor of the holiday, just like it had been when her grandmother had been alive.

With the opening of the music room, Kit's comfort with the piano had increased, her old familiarity with the keys coming back to her the more she played for him. The music faded beneath her fingers as she smiled up at him, always pleased to hear him laugh, even if it was a little at her expense. She knew she was more than a little childlike this year, but it had been a long time since she had let herself truly enjoy Christmas. "I wish you could have seen the crib at the church," she said warmly. "There's no Holy Family in it this year ....the shepherds and angels have been arranged around the altar piece they asked me to carve for them. I swear, I think my jaw hit the floor when I realized!"

"That's brilliant, Kit!" Randal exclaimed with a broad grin on his face. He was truly happy for her and happy she was settling into the house and the town so well. It was important to him that she liked this place, if they were going to be living here together. "I'll see it someday soon," he added hopefully, though neither of them could say for sure when. Isabelle had mentioned something about Halloween, but that was a long way off yet. Still, it had given them both hope.

"You will," she nodded happily, truly buoyed up by the celebration of Christmas thus far. Her fingers stroked the ivory keys affectionately, picking out a softer Christmas tune that he might not know. "I was going to make you something, but then I realized that I wouldn't be able to give it to you until the summer, so you're just going to have to wait until then to see your present."

"You are all the Christmas present I need, Kit," he told her, quite honestly with a soft smile on his face, as well as a small sparkle in his eyes that hinted at a bit of mischief or perhaps a small surprise of his own. "I have something for you, too, but I'm not sure if I should make you wait for morning or give it to you now."

"Well, I was thinking that if you weren't here when I got back I should go to bed naked wearing a bow on my head," she teased, her laughter fading off into quietly touched warmth as he added his own intention to give her a gift. "You have something for me" Really' Randal, I don't need anything. I've got you, what more do I need?"

"That is not a present, Kit! It's torture!" he exclaimed with a laugh. They had been over this already, but at least he could laugh about it now, knowing there was a light at the end of the tunnel - at least, if Isabelle could be trusted to be telling the truth. Randal wished there was some way to know for sure, but he had no choice but to trust her. "A Christmas present isn't about giving someone something they need," he reminded her gently.

Her smile softened as she twisted on the seat, looking up at him with the warm adoration in her eyes he was slowly growing used to seeing there. "I know," she promised him through that gentle smile. "But you're going to make me wait for it, aren't you?"

"I think I might be able to give you part of it now," he said, clearing his throat as if he had something important to say or was about to make a speech. "Your grandmother taught me this one..." he started, straightening and almost nervously tugging at the hem of his military jacket. "I'll be home for Christmas, you can plan on me..." he started, his voice not the best she'd ever heard - certainly not professionally trained - but that wasn't really the point.

Watchful with anticipation, Kit's smile deepened until it lit her up as he broke into song. Not only was it a beautiful choice, but it had been one of her grandmother's favorites. No wonder Randal had been taught it over the years. Twisting, she picked up the tune with the piano, offering a gentle accompaniment for his voice. Whether he was Pavarotti or not, it didn't matter to her. It was Randal.

Katrina Nichols

Date: 2014-11-22 07:04 EST
He was no Bing Crosby or Frank Sinatra either, but what he lacked in talent, he more than made up for in effort. "Please have snow and mistletoe and presents on the tree..." he continued with a nervous smile, pleased she had picked up his cue and joined him on the piano. He'd spent many lonely nights just this way with her grandmother, though there had been nothing between them but friendship. Mistletoe was already hung, though they both knew it was a matter of opportunity to make the most of it, never sure when he would be able to touch her or be touched. Still, it hadn't stopped Kit from buying a ridiculous amount of the stuff and hanging it everywhere, pottering around the house with the sturdy little stepladder she'd bought after he told her off resoundingly for trying to pile furniture and stand on that. Snow wasn't within her power, but presents were. He would just have to wait a little while until she could give him what she had planned.

He continued singing along with her piano playing, only stopping when he tripped over a line and broke into a fit of laughter that wouldn't allow him to continue with any semblance of sincerity. It was a fairly light-hearted song, but one that had a deeper message beneath all the words about someone who wanted desperately to share the holiday with someone they loved.

"Sorry," he apologized, slumping down into a chair and trying to catch his breath from that unexpected fit of laughter. It might seem strange to see him try to catch breath, when he didn't really have to breathe at all, but in a way, it proved he was still more human than even he might have thought. "I don't know what?s wrong with me," he stammered, unable to stop laughing once he'd begun, almost like a month or so ago when he'd been unable to stop crying.

She giggled softly, the music fading from beneath her fingers as she looked over at him, charmed by his fit of the giggles. "It's Christmas," she offered gently. "I don't think there's anything wrong with you." Her fingers stroked the keys, something softer drawn out once again. "Have yourself a merry little Christmas, let your heart be light ..."

Wouldn't it have been a perfect Christmas present if the Powers That Be let him be flesh and blood for just one day' Somehow, he knew that was probably too much to ask for; he was just going to have to be happy with what he'd been given, at least, for now. He smiled as she broke into song, a little softer than the other. It was a song he recognized, but only because Katherine had shared it with him. "From now on your troubles will be out of sight," he joined her, his voice complimenting and harmonizing with hers.

She smiled as he joined her, sweetly flattered by how easily his voice blended with hers as they sang. She wasn't the best singer in the world herself, but some songs - like this one - fitted her voice, the lyrics gentle and hopeful, wishing for something just out of reach. "....next year, all our troubles will be miles away ..."

They weren't just words of a song, but hopes and wishes, given to each other and the Powers That Be on the most magical night of the year, at least as far as the Christian Calendar was concerned. "Through the years we all will be together, if the fates allow..."

Though she tried not to, Kit felt her voice thicken as they reached those lines, tears pricking her eyes. Hopeful as they were, there were still times when it felt as though Isabelle's prediction might never come true. "Until then, we'll have to muddle through somehow ....so have yourself ....a merry little Christmas ....now ..."

He got up from the chair and stepped closer - or appeared to step closer - until he was standing beside the piano, close enough to touch her, eyes bright with tears, a soft smile on his face as their mingled voices brought the song to a close. Sometimes ten months seemed like forever, but to a man who'd waited nearly a century, ten months was nothing. A silence fell upon them as the song ended and he found himself leaning closer, as if he was drawn to her, unable to stop himself from touching a kiss to her lips, whether it was a ghost of a kiss or one that felt very real.

They had shared so many ghostly kisses, so many touches that weren't, reliant on their own imaginations to fill in the blanks when there was nothing to touch. As Kit sighed softly, smiling up at him, she expected just the gentle tingle of his transparent lips over hers, happy just to feel close to him. To feel that tingle grow warm and soft was the best Christmas present she could have received, turning where she sat to curl her arms about him as she deepened that kiss, ever the opportunist when it came to these moments. With her heart high, she risked another silly fall as she leaned into Randal, combing her fingertips through the hair at his nape tenderly. "Merry Christmas, love."

This one kiss was more than he could have ever hoped for, his heart warm and full with love and hope for the future. He knew he should thank Isabelle for this gift, but right at that moment, the only woman he could see or think of was the one right in front of him. "Merry Christmas," he echoed, relishing the taste of her lips, the warmth of her touch. He touched his fingers to her cheek, if only for a moment, so long as the spell lasted. These moments were too few and far between, but for the first time in forever, he was hopeful there would be an end to his long damnation, and she was the light at the end of that tunnel. "I love you," he whispered, almost afraid to say the words, afraid the spell would be broken.

She smiled, the soft, sweet smile that belonged only to him, tilting her cheek into his touch as he whispered to her. "I love you back," she promised him, her voice just as soft, nuzzling a moment longer before easing her weight back onto her own rear end. She'd fallen headfirst into enough walls - and once down the stairs - not to risk too much on an embrace where she had more than a couple of inches to tumble these days. "Always."

He'd promised to make all those falls up to her someday, feeling horribly guilty and at fault for each and every one of them, especially the one down the stairs. As she eased away from him, the spell broke and he was no longer solid, but once again, transparent and ethereal, though very much real. He smiled again as she matched his words of love, his heart swelling with more love than he ever remembered feeling for anyone before, including Isabelle. "I wish we didn't have to wait. Ten months seems so long to me now."

Katrina Nichols

Date: 2014-11-22 07:05 EST
"Shame you didn't take advantage of me when I was drunk," she teased him impishly, grown more relaxed with this more intimate side of their odd relationship as the months passed. "You might have been able to watch me get fat and thin over the year, then."

A month ago, he might not have seen the humor in that statement, but these days he wasn't nearly as moody as before, given to smiles and laughter and thoroughly enjoying her companionship, just as he once had her grandmother's before her, though to a lesser degree. "Somehow, I don't think I am quite able to produce a child just yet," he told her, reaching out to tweak her nose affectionately, his fingers going right through her.

She giggled, her nose twitching as his tweaking fingers passed through, spreading those familiar tingles through her skin. "Yet," she repeated, just to make the point, rubbing her nose. They didn't need to talk about the future they hoped for. It was a given that the house would be full of life and laughter again. The only question now was when that would be. She sighed softly, smiling, content with what they had, for now. "I suppose I should go to bed," she admitted reluctantly, though she never liked to sleep when he was there with her. "Or I could spend all Christmas Day asleep instead. What would you recommend, captain?"

"I think it's up to you, love," he replied, mirroring her smile, as content and happy as she was. What would life be like with her once the curse was broken, if they were this happy together already? "No matter what you choose, I will be here," he assured her, though he probably didn't have to. He was always here in one form or another, whether she could see him or not.

She considered this for a moment, before a mischievous smile crossed her face, little girl eyes turned to him with sweet pleading. "If I ask very nicely, may I have my present?" she asked him impishly, batting her lashes as though that might have any effect whatsoever.

He chuckled. "How do you know I didn't give it to you already?" he teased, alluding to his little performance being at least part of the gift. He hadn't sung for or with anyone since her grandmother had sat at the very piano where Kit now sat. Though they had only been friends, he had missed her horribly when she'd died, his only companion for some many years.

God help him if they had any little girls who took after her. Kit knew exactly how sweet her smile could be, and exactly how to use it to best effect. That childlike smile widened even as she bit her lip. If he'd been solid, she would have been playing with his fingers, too. "Because you said that was only a part of it," she said in a mischievous voice.

"You will have no surprise for the morning if I give it to you now," he reminded her, though with her smiling and lash batting, she had him wrapped around her little finger, even if she didn't know it. He liked the way she looked when she smiled; he liked how she looked when she was happy, and he wanted to make her happy always.

"But it's Christmas now," she pointed out, looking pointedly at the clock. "It's been Christmas Day for a whole .....two hours. You can't argue with the clock, after all. It's far more logical than I am." She smirked cheekily.

"Is it that late already?" he asked, glancing at the clock. It was difficult keeping track of time in this form - hours, days, weeks, months, even years were difficult to keep track of when you had no sense of time or need for it. "I should really make you wait until morning," he said, with a resigned sigh. "Very well. Meet me in the attic."

She beamed, delighted to have won, even if it did mean she had to clamber into the attic at two o'clock in the morning. She even clapped her hands, and yes, if it had been possible, she would have thrown her arms around him and kissed his cheek. "I love it when I win! I'll be quick, I promise!" Knowing that no matter what she did, he would be there before her, she blew him a kiss and scurried out of the room, remembering to grab a flashlight on her way to the narrow stairs that led up to the attic above.

He smiled again, a little nervously perhaps, before fading from view so he could reappear in the attic. All he had to do was will himself there, and there he was. It didn't always work that way, but lately, it seemed that he had a little more control over it than he'd had before, though he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was just a matter of will power, after all.

It didn't take long for her to reach the attic, pushing open the door cautiously. Of course, Kit being Kit, she failed to use the flashlight until she'd fallen over at least once, finally setting the beam of sweep the pitch dark room. "Randal?"

Even if he'd reacted in time to catch her, it probably wouldn't have helped. He'd tried it before, and she'd fallen right through him, despite his desire to save her from falling. He still wasn't sure what triggered his ability to touch her sometimes and not at others. He knew it had something to do with feeling strong emotion, and each time she fell, he just didn't have enough time to work up the kind of reaction required to solidify his form. Or so it seemed. "Over here," he called, a faint figure of light near the corner, like a candle amidst so many shadows.

She peered into the darkness, her expression lighting up in a fresh smile as she pulled herself back onto her feet, tucking her cardigan tighter about herself. She remembered to pay attention to where she was putting her feet this time, knowing he didn't like it when she tumbled about, though he should have guessed by now that she was possibly the clumsiest person he had ever met. "Why are we up here?" she asked curiously as she came to his side.

"Because I can't put your present under the tree," he explained, a little sadly. Next year - if Isabelle was true to her word - he'd give her the finest Christmas she'd ever known. If he had the money. That was going to be another problem, but one he didn't want to worry about right now. "Do you see that chest?" he asked with a nod of his head toward an antique chest of drawers that was set in a corner.

"I don't need a present under the tree to have a wonderful Christmas with you," she promised him, meaning every word. It didn't, however, negate how excited she was about getting a present at all. It was something her mother had never been able to understand, the shared love her own mother and daughter held for the Christmas season, yet another reason for the estrangement that kept them apart. Shining the torch in the direction he indicated, Kit smiled on seeing the chest of drawers. "I do."

Katrina Nichols

Date: 2014-11-22 07:07 EST
"Inside the top drawer, you'll find a silver box wrapped in cloth. It's probably tarnished by now, but it should still open," he instructed, presuming it was still there. He knew Kit had been rummaging in the attic, but she hadn't mentioned finding the silver box or its contents in her searching, and he knew her grandmother had left the contents just the way she had found them.

"All right." In some ways, this was almost better than unwrapping a present. She was being allowed to see into a past he rarely spoke of, even if it was just a glimpse. Setting the flashlight down where it would give most light, she moved to ease that top drawer open, stroking her fingers over the cloth-wrapped box he had told her she would find there. Drawing it out, she set it down carefully on top of the piece of furniture, picking the cloth from about the metal. The box was beautiful - tarnished, yes, but still glimmering with a shade of its former glory, fine filigree set over every surface. "Oh, Randal, this is lovely."

"It belonged to my mother," he told her quietly and perhaps a little wistfully. "Open it," he instructed further. Apparently, the gift wasn't necessarily the box but something that was being safely kept inside it.

She blinked, surprised that there was more to come. The box itself was beautiful, appealing to the artist and craftsman in her. "Open it?" she repeated, biting her lip to swallow her anticipatory smile as she gently eased the stiff catch up to lift the lid.

"Yes," he replied, encouraging her with just a word. "Open it," he said, sounding a little nervous again, as if he was in anticipation of something and unsure she'd like it. Wasn't that how everyone felt when they were about to give someone a present they weren't sure the other would like" But this was a very special present, and he was worried he might be a little premature.

Obediently, she raised the lid, lowering her eyes to look down at what lay nestled in the faded black velvet within. One hand caught up the flashlight as she felt her breath catch in her throat, turning the beam onto the glimmer of gold and sapphire that met her eyes. The ring was beautiful, as intricately worked as the box in which it lay, following the same vine-like filigree motif in yellow gold set with tiny blue sapphires and seed pearls. Kit stared, wholly at a loss as to how she should react. Was this truly what she thought it was" She looked up at Randal, her eyes wide. "Randal, this is ....it's beautiful," she breathed. "This was your mother's?"

He quietly watched her while she lifted the lid off the silver box and peered inside, studying her profile to see the look on her face. He heard a small gasp and hoped that was a good sign. This was something he would never have dreamed of giving Isabelle; Isabelle who liked new things, like this house has once been. No, Isabelle had expected and demanded something new - no heirlooms or antiques for her, and his mother's ring had languished in the attic for years after his death with no one to cherish it. It was nothing short of a miracle that it was still here, but he suspected that was also Isabelle's doing, since his entire estate had been left to her after his death. "Yes," he replied quietly. "Do you like it?"

Fingers that shook ever so slightly gently picked the delicate ring from its resting place, raising it up to admire the workmanship in the light from the torch. It needed a little love, to be restored to its former glory, but Kit honestly thought she had never seen anything so fine. "Do I like it?" She looked at him incredulously. "Randal, this ring is priceless. It's exquisite. You-you truly want me to have this?"

"On one condition," he said, in answer to her question, relieved that she liked it. Now, there was only one thing more to ask her. He knew it was probably a little too soon to be asking, but there would be no better time than now, no more magical a time than Christmas.

Perhaps she did know him better than they both thought, perhaps not. There was a suggestion in the smile that touched her lips that perhaps she knew what that condition would be. "And what is that, love?" she asked him in her soft voice, her thumb gently smoothing over the gold piece in her fingers.

"That you accept my proposal to be my wife," he replied, not getting down on one knee, as not only was that horribly old-fashioned, but nearly impossible. "I love you, Kit. More than I have ever loved anyone in my entire life. I know it's sudden, and I know you haven't known me very long, but I feel like I've known you all my life. I have watched you grow from a small, shy child into a lovely young woman, and I would be most honored if you would accept my proposal. I know I cannot be much of a husband to you now, but if what Isabelle says is true, it won't be long before this bloody curse is lifted, and we can be together." He moved closer, the expression on his face betraying all the loneliness and longing of almost an entire century. "Say yes, Kit. Please."

She had never heard him express such confidence in the breaking of the curse he existed under before that moment, the sudden understanding that he was so very close to trusting her loyalty to him already enough to draw the glisten of happy tears to her eyes. Some part of her knew that this ring had never belonged to Isabelle, that the honor in wearing it was deeper than a mere gesture toward marriage. It might be a little awkward to explain to her friends, but she didn't care. "Do you really think you need to ask?" she whispered softly in the dimly lit quiet of the attic. "I've loved you all my life, Randal. It would be a privilege to be your wife."

A warm, relieved smile spread across his face, and suddenly, he was right there in front of her, taking her into his arms and pressing a kiss against her lips, without thought or hesitation, as though he was as much alive as she was. There was no question that her answer had made him happy, happier than he'd been in a very long time. Perhaps there was hope for him yet.

She let out a soft squeak of surprise as his lips covered hers, never knowing when or if he would be able to touch her, much less kiss her. But he'd never kissed her like this before, without hesitation or thought, sharing only what he felt in that moment without the muffling concerns that seemed to plague him so much. Her fingers gently touched his cheek as her lips left his, nuzzling affectionately as she felt his mother's ring slide into place on her hand. "It's a perfect fit," she whispered to him, tender in the darkness. "How did you know?"

A little lost in the moment, he hardly realized what he'd accomplished until it was done. Not only had he asked her to marry him, but he'd sealed her promise with a kiss. For the first time in nearly a century, ten months seemed like a very long time to have to wait. He shrugged, taking her hand into his to see that the ring was indeed resting there upon her finger before touching his lips to her hand. "I didn't, but I've watched you long enough to notice that you are nearly her size. She loved that ring," he said, trailing off before he could explain further. He rarely, if ever, spoke of his family, only ever mentioning his late wife.

Taking full advantage of the moment, because they never knew how long it might last, she kissed him again, soft and gentle, deeply touched that he would choose to part with such a precious thing, even to bind them closer together. "Thank you," she murmured, meaning each syllable with every ounce of her being. "I won't dishonor it, I promise."

"I know. I trust you," he replied just as softly in return and with just as much feeling. Just saying that was a huge leap of faith for him, but she wasn't Isabelle and he wouldn't make the same mistakes they'd made in the past. As soon as he said it, the solid form he had so much trouble holding onto slowly faded until he was as insubstantial as the wind, but this time it didn't bring a frown to his face, but a warm smile, knowing even this would soon come to an end. "We have a lot to talk about,but you need to rest."

"I know," she sighed, reluctant as always to give into the biological necessity of sleep whenever he was around. "Maybe I should go nocturnal for the next nine months, so I don't keep missing things when you're around." It was a ridiculous suggestion, given how much of her work needed natural light, but she would have done it if he agreed.

"You don't have to do that," he assured her, stepping back a pace, now that he couldn't touch her, though he didn't really have to. It might have been like a moment out of some corny romance novel or maybe a jewelry store commercial, but he didn't really care. He loved her, and that was all that mattered. "Besides, won't I just distract you from your work?" he asked, with a gleam in his bright, blue eyes.

She snorted with laughter, rolling her eyes as she picked up the flashlight once again. "Like you don't obsessively watch over me every time I pick up something sharp to begin with," she countered teasingly. Clumsy as she was, it was amazing she hadn't opened an artery yet, given how well maintained her tools were. She turned, beginning to pick her way back toward the door. "Are you going to put me to bed?"

"If Isabelle is true to her word, in another ten months, I'll be able to watch over you far better," he countered, mulling over her question a moment before replying. "I will do my best." He couldn't make any promises, not yet, but he had promised to always be there with her, to watch over and protect her, now more than ever.

She smiled, and again it was the smile that seemed to belong only to him. Despite what felt like a lifetime ahead of them until they could know for certain that he had regained his faith in a love that couldn't be broken, tonight felt as though they had taken a marvelous step in the right direction. Kit had a feeling she would remember this Christmas as the best of her life, no matter what followed.

((They really are incredibly sweet, these two. Huge thanks to the other writer!))