Chapter Text
Chapter 1
“Hey Nicole, honey, you mind taking a break from your homework?” My dad called from the stairwell. I rolled my eyes, dog-eared the page of Catcher in the Rye, and slammed my reading assignment shut. “Nicole!”
“Yeah, Dad, I heard you,” I huffed. He was always so impatient with me. I didn’t get it. It felt like the family was always racing toward a deadline. But I wasn’t, I was a teenager.
I dashed down the steps, taking two stairs at a time. From the bannister, my eyes fell upon the two girls standing in the middle of my living room. Well, when I say girls, maybe I should say women? They were around my age.
“Nicole, do you remember when I told you we would be taking in two girls for Officer Nedley?”
“Yes,” My voice squeaked as my eyes locked with the shorter brunette. Her hazel eyes were magnetizing; I felt myself being dragged closer and closer toward her with every breath she took. My fingertips tingled, itching to reach out and feel her warm, honey coated hair. I wondered how it would feel for her soft, sun kissed body to be laying on top of mine. My face flushed and I shook my head like a cow in a tornado, desperate to rid myself of my bad thoughts. Damn teenage hormones!
“Nicole, are you listening?”
“Yeah, yeah Dad,” I lied, biting my lip. Honestly, I had no clue what he said. I hope there wasn’t a pop quiz later.
“What’s up, Red Haught?” The taller woman shoved I assumed was her sister out of the way. I hoped my eyes didn’t betray the disappointment flooding through my soul. “Wynonna Earp.”
“Please don’t call me that again,” I gritted my teeth but politely shook her hand. If there’s anything my parents ever taught me, it was politeness. Politeness and to run full speed ahead. “Nice to meet you.”
“And this quiet little shy thing is my sister Waverly,” Wynonna said. She stepped to the side and shoved her sister in front of her. A look of terror flashed across her face, but she was quick to hide it.
“Hey Waverly, Nicole,” I introduced like a stupid idiot. Everyone already knew my name. I leaned forward, and within a second my sweaty palm slid into her warm, soft hand. A feeling of warmth and serenity bubbled inside me at the same time my hormones roared to life like Simba in the Lion King.
“Nicole, why don’t you take these two down to Shorty’s for some grub? I’m sure they’re hungry.” I bit my lip yet again. As much as I loved their greasy food, I really wanted to see what Holden Caulfield was up to.
“Me?” Wynonna asked. “I’m always hungry. And Wave loves to eat, right baby girl?”
“Yeah,” She muttered. It wasn’t until then I noticed how deathly skinny the two women were. I’m glad my powerful handshake didn’t pulverize their hands into dust.
“Let’s go.” I agreed. I reached forward and grabbed a hoodie off the coat rack. I took in their obvious state of undress. “Do you two have jackets?”
“We will be okay like this,” Wynonna admitted.
“Yeah,” Waverly gulped. All I wanted was to race upstairs and grab her another one of my hoodies, but I didn’t want to embarrass her. “We’re always warm.”
“Okay, well it’s probably a ten minute walk.” I opened the front door and the cold breeze blustered inside. I yelled down the hall. “It would be quicker if I could drive the car.”
“Try again Nicole,” My dad hollered. “You’re not old enough to drive.”
I didn’t reply; instead, I ushered the two Earp sisters out of the house and slammed the door behind them. “Hope you’re in the mood to smell like cigarette smoke and whiskey.”
“Those are my two favorite things!” Wynonna broadcasted
And then… it was the night before Christmas, and all through the house. Wait no, that’s a different story, not our story. But it was the night before Christmas. And it was silent all through my house. Silent, that is, until:
“Nicole,” A rough whisper filled my ears as the smallest amount of light emitted into my room. I raised my head as little as possible, wrestling with my mind to stay awake. “Come downstairs.”
“Okay,” I rubbed my eyes over and over, trying to wipe the sleep from them. My warm feet hit the cold ground, and mechanically I walked downstairs as if I was a robot. With my eyes barely a centimeter open, I found my dad leaning against the wall, his arms wrapped around his chest and tears threatening to escape his eyes. “Dad, what’s wrong?”
“Nicole,” My mother’s warm hand clutched onto my shoulder. I turned and my pupils met her watery ones. “Your grandfather passed away.”
“What?” I asked, my voice croaking in emotion. My emotions were at a tug of war, I should feel bad because he was my grandfather, but on the other hand, I barely knew the man, seeing him less times than I had fingers.
“He just passed,” My father said. “We need to go within the next few minutes.”
“But what about Wynonna and Waverly, Dad?” I asked, feeling selfish. “It’s Christmas Eve. We can’t just leave them.”
“Unfortunately, we don’t have a choice, Hun,” Mom dragged me into her arms and rubbed my back. “I’ll take care of it in the morning.”
“Yes, Nic,” Dad agreed. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and pushed his back off the wall. “They are waiting for us.”
“Can I go grab my Walkman?”
“Be quick, Nicole,” Mom squeezed her hand.
My long legs propelled me up the stairs. I felt guilty for being so loud, but honestly, maybe I was being so loud on purpose, hoping to wake the other two women up. This wasn’t fair! They had been with us for almost three months. Now what would happen? The last thing I wanted was for them to end up in the homeless shelter again.
The last door to the right called my name, and I hesitated, trying to stay focused on the task on hand. Shaking my head, I turned to the younger woman’s room. Twenty seconds wouldn’t make a difference.
“Waverly,” I whisper-called, tiptoeing into the room. The moonlight slipped between the curtains and pooled around her face, creating a halo like light around her form.
“Waves,” I exclaimed yet again, but to no avail. I slid onto the side of her bed. My fingertips gently brushed her brunette locks away from her face. “Waves, I’ve got to go. My grandfather passed. But I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”
Her lips split open, and I thought for sure she was going to speak, but instead a gentle snore escaped her mouth.
“Merry Christmas,” I leaned forward, dropping a small kiss on her forehead. “There’s a present hidden in my closet for you. I hope you find it. I’m going to miss you, you know.”
I tugged the blanket over her shoulders, tucking her in tight. Quiet as a mouse, I snuck out of her room and quietly shut the door behind.
And that was the last time I had seen Waverly Earp.
The cold air brushed up against my nose, like an ice cube tickling my senses. I tugged on the blanket, bringing it up over my face. I inhaled the strong scent of laundry detergent, but the new smell aggravated my senses. I clutched the blanket into my fists and shoved it off me. I jaunted around the room, taking in every new detail, every new sound, every new smell. Where the hell was I?
“Good morning, Miss Haught,” A confident and wise voice shoveled down my eardrums. I cracked my neck, looking to find the woman’s eyes. Instead, I was forced to glance another two feet lower. Was she a midget?
“Nicole, please,” I replied. My warm, soft feet collided with the cold, rough floor as the woman shuffled in the room and shut the door quiet behind her. “And you are?”
“Holly,” She slid the tray on the nightstand, and wiped her hands on the apron hugging her waist. “I brought you some hot chocolate.”
“Holly, I don’t mean to be rude but,” I ran my hand through my unruly, unwashed, greasy, red hair. “Who are you?”
I watched as her cheeks turned pale and her eyes glossed over with nervousness. Was I being rude? Should I just have appreciated her help? I mean, we were wealthy, but never rich enough to have a maid. And that didn’t change the fact that I had no idea where I was.
The woman jerked on the pom-pom at the top of her head, messing up the entirety of her dark brunette hair. Her fingertips traced her ears, and it wasn’t until I followed them until I noticed-
“Are you telling me you are one of the Keebler Elves?”
“I don’t understand why your parent’s haven’t told you,” The woman said. Her fingers slid into the mug’s handle, and she shoved the steamy warm goodness toward my chest. “Take a seat.”
Even though she seemed half my height and a quarter of my age, I couldn’t help but follow her command. Tucking my feet underneath my form, I got comfortable on the bed, the hot chocolate giving me a whipped cream facial.
“Where are they?”
“Probably Bolivia by now.”
“What?” My eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Bolivia? Where the hell am I?”
“The North Pole,” She smiled her childish, innocent smile. “You silly girl.”
“Okay,” I hopped off the bed and set my hot chocolate on the nightstand. “I need to get out of here. Wynonna must have slipped something in my drink.”
“No, Nicole,” Her voice was calm, cool and collected. I wanted to squeeze her neck and bleed the happiness right out of her. She was like vanilla icing on a Christmas cookie. “This is all real.”
“What is this?”
“You really need to sit down for this,” She hummed. And once again, like a marionette puppet, I obeyed her wish. “Your grandfather, Nicholas Haught the Sixth was Santa Claus, Chris Kringle, Papa Noel.”
“Yeah right, and I’m the Easter Bunny.”
Her face went ghost white yet again, and she scratched her head in confusion. “No, you look nothing like him.”
“It was a joke,” I made a hesitant smile. “You know, ha-ha.”
“Oh sorry, sometimes I can’t keep up with you youngin’s jokes.” She folded her hands into her lap, focusing on the curve of her fingers.
“Youngins?” I exasperated. “How the hell old are you?”
“267 years old.”
“Bullshit,” I lifted the scalding liquid to my mouth and took a large sip of the delectable treat. “This on the other hand, is amazing.”
“It’s been a family recipe passed down from generation to generation.”
“What is that, like a thousand years?”
“Nicole,” She spoke my name, like a velvet teddy bear on Christmas morning. “Why do you tend to use humor and sarcasm as a way to cover up emotion.”
I stood from the bed, getting completely uncomfortable with the investigation lights pointed at me. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“You’re grandfather died, how does that make you feel?” She looked into my eyes, and I swear she could see right into my soul.
“First you’re Legolas, and now you’re a therapist?” I resorted to anger because confusion was not something us Haught’s ever showed. It was a sign of weakness. “You might want to stick with the script, Holly.”
“Do you even know how he died?”
I felt water well in my eyes, but it was unfounded. I barely knew the guy; how could I feel bad. My voice cracked with a sudden swell of hidden emotion. “No. What, did he fall off a roof?”
“Oh, so your parents did tell you?” She stood from the edge of the bed and grabbed a sugar cookie from the tray. She broke it in half and handed a piece over to me.
“No!” I yelled, the anger and frustration simmering under the surface. “It was another joke!”
“Oh, well,” She nibbled on the edge of her sugar cookie. “That’s exactly what happened. Your grandfather was a trained man, having taken over the role of Santa Claus over forty years ago.”
“No,” I bit back, the cookie crumbling in my hand.
“Yes, Nicole.” She retaliated. “And you’re father has now been thrust into the role of Santa in the middle of Christmas Eve.”
“Our name’s not Claus,” I shook my head, grasping at straws. “Our last name is Haught. You have the wrong girl.”
“No, Nicole Haught, I do not.” She took a larger bite of the cookie, moaning in its deliciousness. “You’re father moved to Purgatory when he became an adult, where he found and married your mother. But he always knew upon the death of his father, he would have to uproot his entire life to the North Pole and fulfill his destiny as Santa Claus.”
“I’m not a six year old child, Holly.” I crumbled the remainder of the cookie in my palm. “I don’t believe in Santa anymore.”
“Well you better believe it, Haught.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” I replied harshly.
“Seeing isn’t believing, Nicole,” She replied. “Believing is seeing. And you’re going to be believing and seeing in about,” Her eyes dropped to her watch, “Six minutes; your father is set to arrive in the sleigh.”