The Twelve Days of Christmas

One

One

I never get what I want for Christmas.

In my aunt and uncle’s manor, Christmas is not a holiday. It is an event.

Each year the decorations become a little grander, the food more plentiful, the gifts more expensive, the servants work harder, and the guest lists swell.

One thing, however, stays the same.

“Oh Adelaide, look! It’s the gift from your father!”

I leapt up, causing ribbons and torn paper to fly everywhere as I waded through the sea of unwanted Christmas presents.

My aunt laughed. “Over there, darling,” she said, motioning to a box on the floor.

I plopped down and placed my hands on the wooden chest reverently. Here it was: the gift I’d waited for all year. I opened it slowly and let out a gasp of delight. Inside were four leather-bound volumes. “Oh…” I touched their spines reverently.

A smile spreading across my face, I reached inside and took out the first one, turning carefully to the first page as I read the first several lines. My heart swelled as my eyes took in the page, and then lifted my face to see my aunt and uncle looking down at me.

“What is it, Adelaide?” my aunt asked.

“Poetry,” I murmured, closing the book and holding it to my chest, hoping that somehow it would bring me closer to my father.

“That’s lovely,” Aunt Colette gushed, motioning a maid over. “Elissa, take Adelaide’s gift from her father to her room.”

The maid dipped into a quick curtsey as I replaced the book in the chest reluctantly. I closed the box and placed the latch downward, running my hands over the wood. My father made the box in which my presents were placed every year.

I watched the maid’s retreating back for a moment, then turned to look back at my uncle, who was smoking a cigar, as usual. “Uncle Winston?”

He grunted. Uncle Winston had never been much on words.

“May I have my letter?”

“There wasn’t one, Addie.” His brow was furrowed and his salt-and-pepper moustache twitched.

I stood. “What do you mean?” I stepped around a plush chair. “There’s always a letter.”

Uncle Winston shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you, Addie, because there wasn’t one.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “But there’s always a note. Something.”

My aunt’s kind eyes held a sheen of tears. “Oh, Adelaide.” She crossed the room and knelt beside me, putting her hand on the side of my head and stroking my hair.

I shook my head, standing again. “Are you positive, Uncle Winston?” I asked, my voice taking on a desperate tone.

“There was no note, Addie. I checked twice.” A twiggy-looking servant with a sour disposition came up beside him and whispered something in his ear. He nodded curtly, then looked back to my aunt and I. “I’ve got some business to attend to, ladies, so I’ll see you two at dinner.”

“Winston. It’s Christmas.”

“I know perfectly well what day it is, Colette,” he said gruffly. “But this is urgent. I will see you at dinner.” And with that, he turned on his heel and walked off, the servant scurrying to keep up.

Aunt Colette sighed, a defeated look on her face. Then she looked back to me, pasting on a smile. “Well then, sweetheart, I guess it’s just you and me. Would you like to open another present?”

I shook my head. “No thanks, Aunt Colette. I think I’ll just go for a walk, if that’s okay.”

Aunt Colette’s dark eyes searched mine. “Are you sure, darling?”

I stood. “Uh huh. I’ll read to you later, if you want.”

She smiled gently, straightening. “I’d love it. Don’t get dirty.”

“Yes ma’am,” I said, walking toward the archway that led out of the parlor.

“And make sure Flora gets out your cloak!”

“’Kay,” I called back, quickening my steps as my gown brushed the stones. I swallowed hard. Why hadn’t there been a letter? My father always wrote to me…

I walked faster. Maybe it had gotten lost. That must be it. What else could it be? I was struck by a horrible thought and stopped dead in my tracks, suddenly very cold.

“Hey, runt!” came a voice, but I didn’t move. I heard footsteps and then my best friend Gavin was in front of me. “There you are. Wow, you’re done opening presents early. We just got here, and there’s still plenty of time before dinner, so we can go—“ He stopped at the look on my face. His brows wrinkled into a frown of brotherly concern. “Addie? What’s the matter?”

My lip trembled, still in disbelief. “There wasn’t a letter this year,” I managed to say.

Gavin’s eyes widened in shock. “What?”

I turned to look at him, shaking my head. “He didn’t write to me.” I bit my lip. “D’you think…”

“I’m sure he’s all right,” Gavin said instantly.

I twisted my hands nervously. “Yeah, but it’s not just that. What if he didn’t write to me because… because
he just didn’t want to?”

Gavin put his arm around me. “Don’t say stuff like that, Addie. Your dad loves you more than anything. It probably just got lost.”

I tugged at my dress, fingers clenched. “You think so?”

Gavin nodded. “That has to be it. Listen, let’s go terrorize Flora or something.”

I nodded distractedly. “Yeah, okay.”

He squeezed my shoulder and stepped away. “I’ll race you back to your room. You’ve gotta get a cloak if we want to go outside.”

I turned around suddenly. “What is that?” I pointed to the tapestry nearest us.

Gavin turned to look, eyebrows raised. “Where?”

Laughing wildly, I set off in a run. “You went for it again!” I cried gleefully.

“You’ll pay for that, Addie!” Gavin yelled back, starting to run after me.

I beat him to my door, chest heaving. As he slowed and then stopped, I straightened. “You’re slow.”

He made a face. “But you’re short.”

I stuck my tongue out at him and opened my bedroom door. “Very observant, genius boy.”

He laughed and slid down the wall. “Aren’t you coming?” I asked.

He shook his head. “Nah, I’ll just wait out here.”

I paused. “Why?”

“Just ‘cause.”

I frowned. “Gavin. Why.”

He sighed. “Because. Mem told me yesterday that when I came here we had to act more mature…and that I wasn’t allowed to go in your rooms.”

My jaw dropped. “I can’t believe that!”

He shrugged. “Me neither. But that’s what she said.”

Rolling my eyes and huffing, I left the door open and flounced across the room, snatching my worn green cloak from my bed. “Flora! I’m taking my cloak so Gavin and me can go play!”

“Gavin and I,” corrected the elderly woman as she entered the room, sewing basket in hand.

“Gavin and I,” I repeated. “So we’re going now, okay?”

“Wait just a minute, young lady.” She set her basket down on a nearby table and walked to the armoire. “You can’t wear that old thing.”

I looked down at the cloak in my hand. “It’s not that old,” I protested, concealing a hole.

She looked at me sternly, hand out. “Give it to me. Take this.” She snatched my worn cloak and exchanged it for a larger blue cloak with a white fur collar. I wrinkled up my nose in distaste.

“Stop that.” she chided. “It’s Prystiter, from northern Wyndham. The very finest.”

“It’s what?” I asked, touching the white fur on the cloak with one finger

“Prystiter,” Gavin called from the corridor. “A really rare breed of animal. It kind of looks like a big mouse, except it’s mean and has blood red eyes.”

“Know-it-all,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. I made a move as though to pull the cloak over my shoulder, then froze. “Wait a second… this is an animal? Eww!”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Gavin called from the hallway and Flora sighed and crossed the room.

“You will be the death of me, child,” the old woman said, adjusting the cloak around my shoulders. “And don’t you dare think of taking it off, Adelaide Erimentha.”

I cringed at the use of my middle name, and I heard Gavin snicker. “Shut it!” I called at him.

Gavin only laughed as he rose to his feet. “May I take her now, Miss Flora?”

Flora beamed at him. “You two go have some fun. Heavens knows you could use it.”

I left the room muttering. Once we were out in the corridor I shoved Gavin in the arm. “You’re always trying to get on Flora’s good side.”

“It might come in handy someday.” He grinned and looked around to make sure no one was coming before glancing back at me. “So are we going to race down to the pond or what?”

I shrugged. “I dunno Gav… I’m kind of tired.”

“Okay,” he replied easily. A second later, he broke into a run. “Like I was going to go for it again!” he called over his shoulder.

“Cheater!” I ran after him, my feet pounding the stones of corridor before we turned onto the lush carpet of the entry hallway. I caught up with him as we pushed open the big front doors and were hit by a rush of frigid air. We stopped running, our chests heaving.

I exhaled, my breath showing in a cloud near my face. “I love Christmas.”

Gavin turned his head, his dark hair brushing against his neck. His thin face was happy, contented. He reached and took my hand. “Me too.”

Then the two of us made our way down to the pond, taking our time. Gavin was quiet, and I knew he wanted to give me time to think. [i]Maybe the letter is in some kind of compartment or something,[/i] I thought. [i]Daddy probably just wanted to make me work for it[/i]. A smile curved at my lips. That must be it.

Gavin and I spent the rest of the afternoon skating, and when it began to grow dark, Flora came down to the pond to chastise us severely for not coming in sooner. Gavin and I waved at one another as he went off with his servant boy and Flora dragged me up to my rooms to help me dress for Christmas supper.

Having dinner with Gavin’s family each year at Christmas was a tradition in my aunt and uncle’s household, and one I adored. Unfortunately, Flora persisted, year after year, in insisting I wear the most ridiculous—and uncomfortable—outfits. I approached my wardrobe apprehensively, not at all eager to find out what I would be styling this year.

Flora dug around for a moment, then pulled out a canary yellow, lacy little confection dotted with bows.

I took a step back. “Uh uh. No way, Flora.”

Flora’s eyes held a twinkle of amusement as she replaced the dress in my wardrobe and came out with another, this time a pale pink.

I crossed my arms across my chest. “Flora,” I said. “It’s pink.”

Flora plopped her hand onto her generous hip. “Well of course it’s pink, Adelaide! Pink is a lovely color. Come here and stop making a fuss.”

“Flora. You’ve made me wear some of the ugliest dresses I’ve ever seen in all my life in the past six years, and I’m not wearing one again. Ma’am,” I added hastily.

Flora chuckled. “I know, lovey. Here’s the dress I really want you to wear.” And with that, Flora hung up the pink dress and pulled out a beautiful royal blue gown with a circular, scoop-neck collar, and tiny rhinestones all along the neckline. The sleeves were long and billowy, and the waist cinched in slightly in a “V.” It was beautiful.

“Oh Flora,” I gasped, reaching out to touch it.

“I thought that it was time for something a little more grown up,” Flora said, patting my cheek. “You’re growing up too fast, my Adelaide.” She smiled fondly and laid the dress out on the bed to prevent wrinkles and walked over to the vanity to prepare the area where she would dress my hair. She shook her head, muttering to herself, “Thirteen next year… only a tiny girl of six when I first met you… such big eyes you had! You always looked ready to bolt… scared out of your skin…”

She motioned for me to sit as she continued her disjointed reminiscing. “But so smart! Master Levorsky couldn’t believe how quickly you picked up on whatever he taught you. There was one maid who mistook your silence for a lack of intelligence, but what a surprise you gave her when you came out of your shell! Oh, I’ll never forget the look on her face—of course, I doubt you’d remember her; she was only here a short time and you were so young. She’s married to a blacksmith now, with five or six little ones, I believe…”

And she was off… I did my best to hold still while Flora pulled my hair into a simple yet elegant style that would both please my aunt and keep it out of my way as she rambled on. “Almost done,” Flora finally said. “Sit still.”

I stopped fidgeting and clenched my eyes shut, counting slowly to ten. I was at nine and three quarters when Flora patted by back. “Done. And what a vision you are, my sweet.”

I peeked. I guessed I looked okay. I stood and kissed Flora on her soft, wrinkled cheek. “Thanks,” I said with a little smile.

She shook her head and patted my cheek. “Go have fun.”

I laughed and dipped into a wobbly curtsey. “Yes ma’am!”

“I’ll have no more of your cheek, little miss,” Flora said with a chuckle, shooing me out of the room.

I hated walking. I ran, I skipped, hopped on one foot, crawled, waddled along on my knees. Anything but walking. Tonight I chose to scurry. That sounded like fun.

So I scurried along the hallways, ducking behind the occasional suit of armor just for good measure, until I reached the doors of our family dining hall. My aunt and uncle’s manor also boasted of a more formal dining setting, but this one would do just fine for Christmas dinner with old friends.

“Addie!”

I turned at the sound of a happy squeal and was nearly knocked down by an energetic hug from Gaia, Gavin’s younger sister, pest extraordinaire. She beamed up at me, her green eyes nearly hidden beneath her fringe that was getting too long. She was only a year younger than me, but about eight times as hyper.

“Hi… Gaia…” I wheezed. “You’re… suffocating… me…”

“What does smuficate mean?” Gaia asked loudly, squeezing tighter.

“It means let go of Addie or I’ll smack you,” Gavin said, looking annoyed as he peeled his younger sister off of me.

“Thanks,” I gasped, feeling as though I had just been released from the clutches of a particularly evil corset—a sensation I’d been lucky enough to have only experienced once and was not eager to repeat.

“No problem. She’s been so loud today. Mem finally threatened to take back all of her Christmas presents if she didn’t lower her voice and stop running in circles.”

I stifled a giggle. “Might have worked.”

“Addie, how are you? Look at you, you must have grown a foot since I saw you last!” Gavin’s mother, Tabitha, reached me at a much more leisurely pace than had Gaia, and enveloped me in a motherly hug.

“Yeah, she wishes,” Gavin said with a grin.

I stuck out my tongue so his mother couldn’t see me, and when Gavin did it back, his father, Lord Randall, caught him. “Put it back, Gavin, you’re not a toad.”

I hid my laugh behind my hand as I received another hug from Gavin’s father. “Hi Lord Randall,” I said.

He patted my head and I fought the urge to scowl, which made Gavin laugh.

“All right, all right, enough of this. The food is getting cold.” My uncle had just bustled into the corridor where we were all loitering, his moustache twitching in irritation.

My aunt was on his heels. “Winston,” she said quietly.

He glanced at her, looking ruffled, though slightly mollified, and took her arm to lead the way into the dining room.

Lord Randall, an older version of Gavin, winked at me, then tucked his wife’s arm into the crook of his and followed my aunt and uncle.

Gaia followed in a flurry of pink, a color that didn’t suit her, as she muttered something about manners. Gavin and I grinned at one another and entered the dining room last, taking our seats across from one another.

Uncle Winston was at one end of the table, while Randall took the other and their wives sat at their right. Gavin was in between his mother and Gaia, and I was next to my aunt and an empty chair. The dining room was decorated with tasteful garlands and a few candles were placed strategically about the room.

Dinner was relatively uneventful, except when a new maid nearly dropped a large platter and when Gaia said something about how much fun she thought it would be to live as a thief. Her mother’s eyebrows shot up as she chastised Gaia, and her father glanced up from his meal disapprovingly. I had to stifle a laugh at the sight of Gavin’s little sister explaining in great detail how “terribly exciting” she thought it would be, living off others’ work, living the nomadic life.

When Lord Randall looked up again, Gaia stopped mid-sentence and stuck out her bottom lip. Of course, Lord Randall’s glare would have scared the stoutest of hearts—there was just something about that steady gaze atop the distinguished-looking beard. Gaia was sullen for the rest of the meal.

Gavin and I escaped as soon as we could, and made our way up to the more comfortable of the sitting rooms in my aunt and uncle’s manor, which also happened to be the one we were keeping the Christmas tree in that year.

“Well, that could have been worse,” Gavin said, falling into a chair near the tree.

I frowned at him and plopped into the seat nearest him. “I thought you liked the Christmas dinners.”

He shrugged. “They get weirder every year.”

I bit my lip as I considered his statement. Uncle Winston seemed a bit more irritable each year, Aunt Colette a little more worried. Gaia only got more obnoxious with time, but at least Gavin’s parents seemed to stay the same. I voiced this opinion.

“I know what you mean, but doesn’t something just seem a little… off about your uncle? I’ll be honest, I never really liked him, but today something about him just seemed fishy.”

I snorted. “He was just mad because the turkey didn’t carve perfectly the first time. And besides that, we must be some of the only people that still eat turkey on Christmas.”

Gavin laughed. “Yeah, all the rich people are eating these days is Creenbloe.”

I wrinkled up my nose. “Eww. I hate Creenbloe.”

Gavin nodded. “Me too. It looks funny.”

“That greenish twinge.”

“The overpowering smell.”

“The way you never can cut it into an edible bite size,” I added.

“And the texture is just so…”

“Bumpy,” we said at the same time, both wrinkling up our noses. Then we fell into an uncontrollable fit of laughter, which resulted in both of us falling out of our chairs.

Gavin calmed down first, rolling over onto his stomach. “Hey Addie, did you really mean what you said about your dad earlier?” he asked, his face suddenly serious.

I was still giggling in spurts. “What?” I asked, not sure I’d heard him correctly as I fought to control my laughter.

“How you didn’t get the letter this year. I mean, you know, from your dad.”

I had been lying on my back, trying to catch my breath, but quickly sat up. “What about it?”

Gavin looked distinctly uncomfortable. “Well, you said something about how maybe your father just didn’t want to send it.”

I nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“Do you really believe that?” he asked.

I pulled my knees to my chest, resting my chin on top of them, studying Gavin carefully, though I couldn’t see his face very well in the soft light of the candles on the tree. “I don’t know,” I said. “At first it was just me feeling sort of panicky, but now that I’ve thought about it more, maybe he just didn’t get around to writing a letter this year. I just can’t see why he wouldn’t. He always has, even that one year when it was so short that it barely counted. But it was still a letter, and it was still from him. What’s your point, anyway?”

Gavin pushed up on his hands and moved into a sitting position, leaning against the chair he’d fallen out of just a few minutes earlier. “I just had this crazy thought, Addie, and I mean a really crazy thought. Do you think that maybe, just maybe, that someone wanted to keep that letter from you?”

I stared at for a moment, then laughed. “You’re out of your mind, Gavin. Why would anyone want to do that?”

He shrugged. “Don’t really know. But think about it. You and I both know that your dad loves you more than anything else in the whole world, and—“

“You keep saying that, Gavin, but you don’t really know, do you? I mean, you’ve never even met him.” I was beginning to wish Gavin had never mentioned this. I could feel that annoying tingle in the back of my throat that meant the tears were soon to come.

Gavin could tell I was getting upset. “Addie, I don’t have to know your dad to know he loves you. It would be impossible not to.”

I had been staring at the ground, keeping the tears at bay, but then lifted my head. “Thanks, Gavin,” I whispered, furious with the little tremor in my voice.

“Anytime, runt, anytime,” Gavin said with a smile.

I let my gaze wander among the Christmas tree’s branches, over the flickering candles and between the expensive ornaments.

“Hey, Addie?”

I turned my head, still resting on my knees, to look at him. “What?”

“Merry Christmas.”

I smiled. “Merry Christmas, Gavin.”