Summary: inspired by “On Christmas Day” by Dido. Liz has a young daughter that has some problems. An unexpected visitor decides to come by once more, and the little pension that Liz and Alex take care of, is turned upside down by his homecoming. It will consist out of three (short) chapters, in the theme of the (upcoming) holidays.
Disclaimer: Not too long ago, I signed a contract in which I stated to my friend that Jason was all hers. So… I don’t own anything. If you want to sue, Laurie is the one you should talk to… Oh, and the name Ana belongs to... well, to Ana.
Author’s Note: I don’t got much to say, actually. The story basically sucks, but when one gets in the Christmas mood, one can’t help herself. I'm sorry for bothering you with this nonsense.
Part 1
Small, wintry white snowflakes whirled down, the clouds they fell from just as creamy and white as the soft flakes themselves. Liz smiled, regarding her daughter through the window as the frail thing made snow angels, vigorously moving her arms up and down to create a magical set of wings.
“Isn’t it too cold for her?” Alex, her brother, asked worriedly as he moved to stand next to her and looked over her shoulder. “She’s been outside for hours.”
“Dinner’s almost ready,” she said, and smiled when Ana stood up to admire the imprint of her own, fragile figure in the snow. Liz tiredly ran a hand through her already tousled hair and leaned back into her brother’s chest. “I was about to call her inside, but she’s enjoying herself so much.”
“Do you want me to go get her?” Alex asked, smilingly looking down on his sister.
She nodded slowly, pensively, took a step back and wiped off her hands on her apron. “Be gentle with her, okay?”
Alex gave her a look that told more than words ever could.
“Of course,” he said, slightly offended by her question. “Do you still need to ask?”
She heard the door closing, and, seconds later, she noticed her brother trudging through the snow, spreading his arms widely in order to pick up his niece and carry her back home.
Ana was a shy, quiet wisp of a girl. She hated talking, especially to strangers and other children, afraid to be misunderstood. Ever since she’d dropped through the thin ice that had covered the valley’s river two winters ago, she’d had troubles speaking. It kept Liz up late at night, made her worry about living so isolated, and the effect it could have on Ana.
Smiling lightly, Liz took the turkey out of the oven. She caught a whiff of the way it smelled, and felt pride welling up inside of her. It was just right; nice and crispy brown.
Alex was her only brother, and together, they owned an inn at the foot of the mountain. Once, it had been her father’s dream to live in the mountains, to be elevated above the rest of the world. He had deserted society and had bought the small house decades ago. She had been three years old back then, too young to remember anything about it.
Too young to remember her mother.
Even after her father’s passing, she and Alex hadn't left the pension. It was a cozy place to be, and many memories – both happy and sad – were imbedded in its warm rooms.
She could hear Ana’s giggle before she saw her in the doorway, her uncle several steps behind her. Alex was about the only person who managed to get through to her, his cheerfulness and smile contagious to everyone around him.
“Hey sweetie,” Liz whispered, and bent down to kiss her daughter’s forehead. “Let’s get you warmed up, all right?”
Ana nodded and hugged her back, a small smile giving her a wonderful, almost angelic appearance. “W-warm,” she echoed quietly. Liz knew how she cursed her spasmodic tongue as it squirmed powerlessly, desperately trying to string the letters, the syllables to each other, to form coherent words and sentences.
Nodding thoughtfully, she placed her hand on the back of her daughter’s head and gently guided her towards the dinner room. Sitting Ana down close to the hearth fire, to the flames that avidly licked at the almost charred logs of wood, she waited for Alex to call their guests.
Soon, the two men that stayed with them stumbled down the flight of stairs to join them for dinner. One of them was of average age, with a large, thick moustache that curled upwards at its ends, the tips graying. His name was Kristofferson, and he was doing research in the mountains. All Liz knew, was that it had something to do with frogs and the climate, but he had never bothered to tell her more about it.
The other man, Mr. Hoffman, was older - he had curiously meandering wrinkles around his eyes - and had been staying with them for quite a while. He was rather podgy, but friendly-faced, his lips always drawn into an engaging smile.
Some weeks ago, Ana had faced her fears. She had waged an internal war against them, had turned out victorious and had gathered up the courage to speak to Mr. Hoffman. Not long, not much, but it was a start. Liz had felt immense proud and joyful afterwards, and a feeling of happiness had claimed her for the rest of the week.
“Afternoon Miss Parker, Ana,” Mr. Hoffman - he insisted they'd call him Robin - greeted them, and took off his hat. Ana bolted upright from her place by the fire, and her face lit up as she stammered out a greeting.
Exchanging a proud grin with Alex, Liz walked back to the kitchen and garnished the stuffed turkey with some herbs, some lettuce and a strange-looking but delicious orange sauce Alex had made the day before.
Her gaze swept across the room, over the cards, the decorations and the tree.
It was that time of year again.
Christmas.
<center>***</center>
“What a weather,” her father complained, wrapping his arms around his waist, hugging his jacket closer to himself. “I wouldn't be surprised if it would storm tonight,” he confided them, and she and Alex nodded dutifully. If father told them it would storm tonight, then it would storm tonight.
The sky held a shade of deceivingly innocent blue, clear of any clouds and birds. Yesterday’s night had covered the world carefully, had hidden it beneath a thick blanket of white, soft snow. She loved this time of year, when snow would fall instead of rain, when their little family would cuddle around the fire. Her mother had loved the winter as well, her father had confided her once, on one of his rare, talkative days.
Alex held his hand above his eyes and squinted against the light of the setting sun; it had arbitrarily decided to abandon them early, long before the end of the afternoon. “Looks like we’ll have another guest tonight,” he commented, studying the traveler.
Liz followed his gaze, her vision hindered by the bright rays of the sun. A silhouette of a horseman was outlined against the horizon, though she couldn’t make out his face.
Her father expelled a deep breath and rubbed his hands in order to warm them up. “He’ll be more than welcome,” he said, and picked up his axe again. “Lord knows we need more guests.”
Half expecting the horseman to gallop their way, Liz stared at his lonely figure. He seemed to be looking for something, but, instead of riding towards them, he turned and disappeared behind the sloop.
<center>***</center>
Just two more parts to this. I intend on posting the final part on Christmas day.
Stefanie xxx
And yeah, it's pretty sad for Ana. I actually read about this. Children who experience something traumatizing (like falling through the ice and almost drowning) can develop problems with speaking. I was intrigued by this and wanted to write about it. Glad you liked it! 
? It's not a surprise you got in! Of course you did!!! *hugs tightly* Those people would have had to be insane to not let you in. I'll probably hear around the beginning of January when I have the interview. At least, I hope I will. 
The horrible cliché ending…