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The Christmas Wish (Alvis Alendran & AndNich123)

AndNich123

AndNich123

Pulsar
Joined
Jan 22, 2014
The scene across the street was one of a winter wonderland plucked from a painting or a film. The lightly falling snow was the perfect backdrop. An ice skating rink was filled with happy skaters. Some tumbled down. Often it was the lead, who started a domino effect as others toppled down as well. Sitting there on the cold, wet, ice the smiles never left their faces. The laughter seemed to rise higher. Scarf and glove clad children grew brave, letting go of their parent's hands, only to realize it truly was harder than then imagined. Yet the smiles, the laughter, was always there. A huge Christmas tree stood with what appeared thousands and thousands of twinkling lights. Shades of blue, red, and green lit up the area. Ornaments adorned the tree. The glitter from them catching the light, causing it to burst into a brilliant display. Bows of red were neatly, seemingly gently, tied to the edges of the limbs. A red velvet skirt rested at the base, littered with wrapped gifts. Santa sat close by on his throne. It was painted a bright gold with a plush, red velvet seat. His suit was pristine, right down to the shiny golden buttons. He had the laugh and the mannerisms of Santa down perfectly. Mrs. Claus was seated close by as well. After the children would climb from his lap, she would direct them to take a gift. A tiny gingerbread house stood just beyond the tree. Inside the children would receive a candy cane, as well as a bag filled with other treats. It was a scene that burned into her very being. She couldn't help but stand there and drink it in.

Ellie wanted to walk across the street. She wanted to be closer to the happy families, to Santa Claus, close enough to hope that she could somehow feel the same magic these children were feeling on this evening. Christmas was just a few days away, and she had not felt the holiday spirit yet. There wasn't a single decoration inside her apartment. No cards. No Christmas music filled her space. She was only around it when she was exposed and didn't have a choice in that matter, but tonight, standing there with the snow kissing her, she wanted to be emerged in this scene. Whatever force held her across the street was slowly losing it's grip. She could feel the urge to pick up her foot and start the walk across the street, dodging traffic, just to be close to this. The urge grew stronger but was silenced in an instant when her phone rang. It was the only thing that could have broken her from the reverie of this moment. "Talk to me," she said, her voice sounding harder than she intended. The frustration from being dragged away from the winter wonderland was seeping through. "That's right. No mistake. Well, that's not my problem. The investors want the meeting on that day. You'll just have to leave the little beasts with their father unless you care to find another job at the start of the new year. I'm sure there won't be many people doing the same thing around that time. Who would imagine that there will be a flood of people trying to further who they are, trying new things, going for a change around that time of the year? It would be almost like some sort of resolution to do so I suppose. So. I take it you will be attending the meeting on Christmas Day? Good. I thought you would have a change of heart." She hung up the phone, feeling what little bit of Christmas cheer she had found in the scene fleeing from her, seeping into the cement beneath her feet. Santa gave her a smile and a knowing look as if he somehow knew that she had wanted to cross the street just moments before. She returned his smile and offered a friendly wave. He gestured for her to come across the street. Her smile grew, and she shook her head. "No Santa," she said, knowing he could not hear her, but the message was received by his reaction. She watched as a child climbed up on his lap and began talking to him, placing all her trust in this man that he really could give her what she wanted for Christmas as if he could come into her home while she slept, eat the cookies, drink the milk, and leave the gifts as if he truly was Santa Clause as if Santa Clause was real. "You wanna know what I want for Christmas Santa? I want to feel the way I did when I was a kid. I want to wake up and not have a care in the world again. I didn't know how good I had it when I was a kid. I want to wake up in my own bed, and the only thing I have to worry about is hanging with my friends and school. No bills. No job. No worries. That's what I want Santa. Think you can wrap that up and leave it under the tree for me? No? How about a card on the tree then? No. Well, I'll take a diamond bracelet then," she mused softly, quietly to herself. As if he heard her, Santa looked up and gave her a nod. The gesture seemed surreal. Ellie shook her head quickly and headed inside her apartment building, fleeing from the snow.

A quiet dinner for one consisted of a microwave meal while watching the local news, curled up in her sweatpants and tee shirt. It was the same as most evenings. Nothing ever seemed to change, and to a degree, she liked it that way. It was comfortable. It was familiar. It wasn't the way she imagined her life, not entirely. In her dreams, she would not have been alone. She had the job, the money, the apartment, but that was it. The walls were empty. There were no friends calling her up for nights on the town. There was no man that desired her attention. There was only silence and loneliness once the lights went out. She climbed into her bed, set her alarm, and turned the light off. It was one part of the day she liked. It was the time of day she could finally shut it all off.

She would awaken to a sound blaring in her ears. Groggy she reached over, searching for the button. Lifting her head, her hair askew, she forced her eyes open slightly before banging her hand down on the clock. Her head flopped to the pillow as she groaned. "Eleanor! Time to get up! You can't sleep all day! Get out of bed sleepy head!" Her head snapped up, and her eyes were wide open. "Who..is in..my apartment," she whispered. Carefully, quietly, with the agility of a lioness, she made her way from her bed and crept across the floor. Halfway to the door she paused and looked around the room she was in. "What..is..this," she asked. Though it was familiar, it wasn't her apartment. "How? W-What....." No longer fearing her the voice would find her, she raced towards the door, down the hall, and down the stairs. There was a man, a man she recognized standing there in the kitchen cooking breakfast. Once more he called out her name, but this time it was clear he knew she was there. "Dad?" Her voice reflected her surprise and horror. She began to back away from him. "What the hell? This can't be happening. No. I have..I have a meeting in a few days. I have a company to run. I have things to do. I can't be here in this..in this..hell. Okay? What the hell? This is a nightmare," she said, running her hand through her hair as she continued to stumbled back until she reached the Christmas tree. Turning, her eyes quickly scanned the scene. Her mind was grappling, searching for some explanation. "It's a dream. I'm still dreaming. I have to be. That's the only thing that makes....." She stopped speaking as she noticed a card with her name
on it placed amid the branches of the Christmas tree. Narrowing her eyes, she reached for it. Opening it her face exploded into shock. It read:

To feel like you did when you were a kid. Wake up without a care in the world. Wake up in your own bed. Worry only
about your friends and school. No bills. No job. No worries. I can't wrap it up, but I think you said something about
a card on the tree. The magic of this Christmas gift will expire on midnight Christmas Day. So make the most of it
Eleanor.
Merry Christmas,
Santa Claus
 
It hadn't been a particularly heavy winter so far, the snow had fallen, but not enough to utterly bury the world. Still, standing in the kitchen, looking out the back window at the yard, seeing that blanket of pristine white covering the ground, it was enough to bring a smile to William's face every time. The house was quiet, save for the quiet hiss of the gas stove, and the sizzle of the food on the pan. There was a certain...peace to the morning like this. Long standing habit had him awake well before the sole other occupant of the house at this point, and that was also fine. People her age needed their sleep. He worked the pan a little, and checked the clock.

Well, that was late enough. He made his call to get his daughter out of bed, and kept working. When he heard her behind him, he turned to her, puzzled when she started muttering, adn backing away from him.

All right, this was not a normal reaction to the morning, that was for sure. He moved the hot pan off of the burner to give it a break while he moved off to investigate what seemed to be happening with his daughter.
"Eleanor?" He called, leaving the stove and advancing towards where she'd gone, a frown on his face.

He found her with a card from the tree in hand, and cocked his head.
"Hey girl, you okay there?" He asked her, real concern in his voice. She didn't look like she was okay, not really, she looked rattled as all hell to be honest. He moved close to her and put a hand on her shoulder to catch ehr attention, to let her know that her dad was here for her.

William was a fairly big man, just over six feet tall, and nearly twice as wide as his daughter. His skin had the rough feel that came from a lot of time out in the sun and wind. He hadn't been planning on going out anywhere that called for him to look his best, so he had a days growth of a beard, which really was just a rough shadow on his face.
"Hey, talk to me, huh? What's up?" He asked her, crouching down a little, bringing them closer to eye contact.
 
"Don't you fucking call me Eleanor. It's Ellie or Els. I gave up that name a long time ago, and talk to you? Good grief. Why would I do that? This is insane," she told him, her voice rising with every word she spoke. "I can't be here," she shouted, looking up to the ceiling. "I have meetings. I have a business to take care of. This isn't....this isn't fair you old bastard! I'm not a kid! I don't believe in you! I don't....," her voice trailed as she slowly brought her head back down to look at him. "I don't believe this. I am so fucked."

She would take a step back, allowing her body to fall free from his touch to her shoulder. "This can't be....I can't be....This is a nightmare. No. I'm dreaming. I have to be. I saw the old man, went to sleep, and now I'm....," again her voice trailed as she looked around the house. It was the house she grew up in. Every detail was perfect. Things she had forgotten about came flooding back to her. Pictures, blankets, pots, pans, coffee mugs, the yellow one she had made when she was little, it was all there. Plants, the old piano, the one she had been forced to take lessons on, it was all there, right down to the scratches on the legs of the seat from where she had lost her temper from being told to practice. "No," she said before looking out the window. Her bike stood leaning against the big tree in the front yard. A layer of snow covering most everything reflected the light back. "No. This can't be happening. How old am I," she asked, turning her attention back to him. "Answer me," she yelled. "How fucking old am I?" Shaking her head, she headed into the kitchen. "You know what? Don't answer that." She threw open the fridge and took out a beer. "Not before I have a drink." Pulling the tab on the beer, the familiar sound could be heard before she pressed the can to her lips and began to down its contents.
 
William just stared at his daughter as she seemed to be going completely off the deep end without warning. She breezed past him to the kitchen, grabbing a beer without a second thought. He sprang into motion at that point, his confusion giving way to concern. There were a lot of things he would let slide, but if she was this keyed up, maybe a liquid that lowered her inhibitions and control were a bad idea. She'd started to downt he beer when he snatched it out of her hand, some of the liquid spattering onto the floor.

"Okay young lady, I've had about enough of this." He said flatly. When she seemed to disagree with his assessment, he dropped the can and seized her by the shoulders. He bodily lifted her off of the floor and walked her back a few paces to put her back to the wall to keep her contained. The way she was going, he was getting more adn more worried she was going to hurt herself. He took a breath and did something he'd not had to do with her in quite a few years.

"Eleanor! Listen to me now." He said sternly. He wasn't shouting, but he was only a step below it. his voice was a deep, rich baritone that all but rattled the plates on the counter witht he force and volume of it. "You are my daughter, you are all of fifteen years old, and you are acting like a crazy person. You were perfectly fine I thought last night, and now...now I don't know what's gotten into you, but tell me what in hell is wrong so I can help you damn it!" He thundered at her. He kept his head low, looking her in the eye. There was no anger there, just a font of concern, worry and care.

SOmething had happened to his daughter. And he wanted to know what it was, and how he could her her, the same way he'd tried to do for her every time he could.
 
The beer flew from her hands. As the liquid splattered on the floor, she couldn't help herself. "That makes two of us you dumb....." Her words would be halted as she felt her body moving not of her own volition. Before she could protest, his voice boomed. The sheer tone and volume made her fall silent as he spoke. His words struck a chord deep within her. With trembling lips and wide eyes, she quivered, "F-fit-teen. Fifteen? I'm....fifteen? Are you sure? I can't be....fifteen. I'm..a grown ass..woman..and you're..you're my..father..whom I haven't seen..in years. This can't be....." She stopped speaking and took a deep breath. He already thought she was going crazy, and if this kept going the way it was, he would have her locked away in a hospital before the sun set. Her eyes looked over towards the tree searching for the card. In all the confusion, she had dropped it. It was nowhere to be seen. Quickly she turned her gaze back to him. "I'm fine. I'm okay. Bad dream. It was just..a bad..dream. I'm okay. You can..you can move back now. I'm fine." She had forgotten how he had been all those years ago. Her memories were never plagued with a man that worried and doted over her this much. Perhaps she had chosen to block it all out in her attempts to flee to the city. Had he always been this way? Had he always been this....strong?

Once he had backed away, she moved once more towards the tree to make sure the card was gone. "Son of a bitch," she whispered. "Just until Christmas Day. I can do this. How hard can it be? No school. Just me," she continued to whisper as she turned to look back at her dad. "And him. So dad," she began before clearing her throat. "You been working out or something? You jacked me up like I was a hooker who owed you money. Damn. Normally if a fucker treats me that way, his ass is in jail or I fuck him up," she laughed before catching her reflection in a nearby mirror. "Oh fuck. Look at me. I look like crap. Damn," she laughed. "Good thing I'm gonna grow into this face because right now I look terrible."
 
Her bout of babble about being a grown ass woman, and that she hadn't seen him in years raised far more alarm bells in his mind than nearly anything else. She seemed to settle, at least enough that he let her go. When she moved away from him, she seemed to try and rally herself, and managed to do it credibly well. He wasn't sure he bought the whole dream thing as a reason. He had concerns. Drugs maybe? Was she on something, adn just coming off of a bad trip? He gave his head a shake. Highly unlikely.

He snagged the beer can on the floor, and tossed it, wiping the spilled liquid up and stowing the towel away for washing later. When she spoke to him again, he had to turn and look at her, wondering where in the heck this lineof questioning had come from.
"And how exactly, young lady, do you know how a hooker gets jacked? Is there something I should know? Some...extracurriculars that I don't know about?" he asked, lettings his tone fall into the easier tone that he'd used between them when they were on what he expected to be an amusing line of joking. "Is there some pimp out there that I need to put the screws to because he thinks he's got some hold on my little girl?" He mockingly drove his fist into his opposing palm. As she disparaged her looks, he did step closer to her, gently bumping her chin up to look at him with his hand.

"None of that baby girl. You are beautiful. Don't you let anyone tell you otherwise. Especially not yourself." He chided gently, softening it with a smile. "Now sit down. You should eat something. You have plans for the day?" He asked her, moving back to the stove to resume his cooking.
 
"Eat? As in food? For breakfast? Well I haven't don't that since....." She gave him a quick smile. "Yesterday. Since yesterday, but really," she began looking past him to the food he had cooked. "You know that stuff is high in fat and chlestryol. It's beyond unhealthy. Can I just have....." Again she stopped. He had gone through so much trouble. This man had been up for a while already, cooking for her. Nobody she knew would do that for her, and besides she was a kid now. Her body would burn it up fast. "You know what? It looks and smells great. Just like I remember."

Heading into the kitchen, she climbed onto one of the barstools. The kitchen table stood empty, barely used. With just the two of them, there wasn't much use for it. "Well come on. I am not eating all this by myself. You want me to balloon out like a puffer fish," she teased, blowing up her cheeks. "Get over here and eat." She patted the spot next to her. 'Besides if he gets over here and eats I can pick at this food while he eats most of it. Then I can go retreat somewhere and try to reverse this.'

"I do have plans," she told him, knowing it was a lie. "But you can't ask me what. It's....it's a secret, and I'm going alone. I don't have any friends anyway. Not really. I spend all my time studying so I can get the hell out of this small town and make it big. Gotta go to college, get a good job at a nice company, work hard until I eventually run that bitch," she boasted, forgetting again who she was talking to. "A girl's gotta have a plan. You know, so she doesn't end up like a hooker getting jacked. By the way dad, don't ever do that whole screws thing again. It was disturbing, and you're suppose to think I'm pretty. Nobody else does." She pushed her food around on her plate with her fork, only taking a bite here and there. "It's okay though. I don't need those assholes. One day I'm gonna be their bosses telling them to blow off their families on Christmas Day to be at a meeting, a meeting dad that will make lots of money. Money. Money. Money. It's what makes the world go around. You know, you should invest some. You could get out of this place if you hit it big." She took a drink from the glass on the bar, her eyes looking over to him. "Got any vodka to go with this OJ? I know you do," she teased. 'At least tonight I can get trashed,' she though as she smiled at him. "What are your plans for today? Anything fun?"
 
Her mind seemed to be flying a mile a minute, but that wasn't really uncommon, William just let it roll off of his shoulders.
"You're still damned young, you need some extra food intake, keeps you strong." He chided her lightly. "And a life without bacon isn't worth living." He smirked as he finished the statement. He served them both up a helping of the breakfast. It wasn't terribly fancy, just scrambled eggs with bacon, but it was the kind of breakfast that a person like him thrived on. All the protein and energy a body would need to stay going constantly.

"Ah super secret plans to furthre your goal to take over the world? Gotcha." At her statement of having no friends, he fixed her with a look between bites of food. "I know you've got some friends. The amount of time you spend texting on that phone of yours tells me that."

"Eleanor, why the sudden need for booze? I know you're fifteen and all, but it' barely noon! A bit early in the day to be hitting the hard stuff like that!" He said with a shake of his head. "If you're going to be boozing up your orange juice this early, at least be classy about it and use champagne! People think you're classy and refined with a mimosa in hand! Screwdrivers at noon makes you look like a drunk." He winked as he finished speaking, making sure he took any real heat out of the words. On an impulse he stood up and moved over to the cupboard, and opened it. A moment later he was sliding some of the contents aside, and opened up a previously unseen tiny fridge mounted within. He emerged with a bottle of champagne.

"What the hell, it's the holidays, right? And it's not like you're out with shady boys." He justified, expertlyu popping hte cork free in his hand. There was no great explosion, it was a practiced move with strong hands that knew their business. He topped up her OJ with the champagne and after a moment of hesitation, did the same for himself.

"Apparently my plans for today involve drinking mimosas at noon with my daughter, and then deciding if I'm going to keep doing that the rest of the day or not." He observed, raising his glass in a brief cheers beofre taking a drag on his glass.

It was a weird morning.
 
Eleanor. The name made her cringe. Why did they have to name her that? "El or Ellie. I told you that already." She had to remind herself that no time had really passed for him. "I've outgrown Eleanor," she added taking the glass. "And there's no need for the booze. It's more of a want, a desire really. It makes everything feel....smooth....and better. Plus if you really wanted to be classy, then you could just skip the orange juice completely and have a glass of champagne. Of course, I like strawberries with that. If the mood is really there, I love some..whip..cream..with..it." Her face blushed slightly. She was referring to the times she would bring a man into her apartment to make the night seem less lonely and to make her body feel pleasure, only to kick him out in the morning. That was a thought she never wanted to have around him. "What can I say," she stammered. "I have a sweet tooth." In the back of her mind, she heard, 'Nice save there Els.' Rolling her eyes, she took a drink.

It was gone in one gulp, and the glass was placed on the counter without making a sound. She continued to pick at the food, still hoping he wouldn't notice her lack of consumption. Inhaling deeply, a familiar scent filled her nose. The wood-burning stove was lit. Memories of him coming in the house, sweating from chopping wood, came back to her. She remembered thinking it was odd that he managed to sweat in the winter. She would do anything to avoid getting close to him, as the thought of being touched by his sweat seemed disgusting to her. Maybe he would get out of the house today to do just that. Then she wouldn't have to keep up this charade. None of the things she enjoyed would be on television. Those friends he spoke of were more along the lines of networking. She could have cared less about what happened with them. She couldn't dive into the fridge either. Though her body was 15, her mind was far from it. Though she could relax, it would prove to be the most boring day. "You still chop wood around this time of year? For other families and for us? Are you going out to chop wood today?" As she asked him, she started thinking about how it might be kind of fun to get out of the house. The house she didn't care if she was alone in it or not, but the town, the woods, might be fun to see once again. "If you are, do you mind if I take a whack at it? I can tag along."
 
William gave her a look that spoke wonders on how he interpreted her words about champagne. And strawberries. And whipped cream. He had been a kid once, and a very young man shortly after that, and knew a lotof tricks from back then, but he decided that he didn't want to utterly humiliate his daughter or give too much away.
"Of course, I've known about that sweet tooth of yours since you were this high." He held a hand up down to the level of his knee.

"I cut wood when we need wood. And..." He leaned back and looked at the point where he stacked the extra firewood. Sure enough, they were down to around half. "...we could use a top up. Supposed to snow again tonight, and I don't fancy hiking out to get more wood in four feet of snow." He admit. He raised his eyebrows at the mention of her coming along with him.

"You know you're always welcome to come with me, any time. If you're going to help though, you might want to do more than just push the food around on your plate. It's a good walk, and a lot of work once we get there. Don't want to be fainting from exertion while we're out there. Might be awkward, and I'm sure you don't want to be carried back here by your father over his shoulder. Just embarrassing." He smirked as he said the last few words. He quickly polished his plate of food and set it in the sink.

"I'm going to grab the axe and the carrier sled. You finish eating, adn get your warm stuff on and we'll get out there and get us a load of wood." William said as he moved to the garage.

It was clear that something was up with Eleanor...sorry, Ellie apparently. He didn't know what, but he wasn't going to turn down the chance to spend some time with her. When you were a single father you tended to value what time you could get with your only child. He picked two axes, a splitting maul and a simpler axe, making sure he'd have whatever he needed for the task at hand. The carrier sled was an old runner sled that had a fairly high rail on it, letting him stack up a good amount of split firewood. He'd set it up a long time ago, long before he'd been a single father, but it still worked just fine. He opened the back door, took a deep breath of the bracing cold, and set the sled and axes outside. He went back inside and went for his tall boots, and the heavier coat. He also grabbed a pair of deer skin gloves, since htat always gave him the best grip on the axe handle.

"Hey Ellie! You ready in there?" he shouted into the house.
 
She continued to push the food around for the most part even after his warning. When he departed for the garage, she glanced over to the sink. "How gross. He didn't even wash the plate. Geez dad. I mean....I have got to get out of here. I'm....reverting." She shook her head at the thought before staring back down at the plate. If she was honest, it did look good, and it had been so long since she indulged in a real breakfast. Her mouth began to water. She licked her top lip slowly before erasing the fork filled with food to her mouth. She closed her eyes as the flavor exploded on her tongue. "Geez dad. if I had remembered how good your food was, I would have eaten sooner." She began to devour the food as if she hadn't eaten in weeks. Truth be told, it had been longer than that since she down to a real breakfast. Muffins on the go, a granola bar, and sometimes just coffee was not a real meal. As she drank down the last of what he poured her, she began to slide from her seat. With the back of her hand, she wiped her lips before placing her plate in the sink. Without a second thought, she headed back upstairs to get dressed for the day.

Warm clothes were a must. That hadn't changed at all since moving to the city. Her closet was just like she remembered. The few clothes for warmer weather that she owned were to one side. It was as if she hadn't been away at all, as her fingers thumbed through the clothes. A nice sweater, jeans, her thickest coat, and boots. 'Not bad,' she thought as she admired the attire. 'Not as bad as I remember, but that face,' she thought, snarling into the mirror. "A face only a father could love I guess," she said just before hearing his voice ring out. "Yeah dad," she called back, before racing towards the stairs. "You know don't think I've ever really gone with you for this. I mean I don't remember much about the hike out there. Want me to bring some beer for the hike," she teased. "Just kidding," she added quickly, throwing her hands. "Learn to take a joke dad. Don't get your boxers in a knot. Boxer. Briefs. Whatever it is you wear," she continued to tease as she opened the door and headed outside, laughing as she went.

The hike was going to be great. She could tell that the moment the cold air kissed her nose. Inhaling deeply, she closed her eyes. "I have missed this."
 
William gave a short laugh at her suggestion of bringing beer for the trip.
"You don't bring beer out in the cold!" He admonished. "If you wanted to feel better about the cold, yyou bring whiskey! Or a pack of smokes, those actually do help with the cold." He shrugged as he spoke, taking hte leads on the sled and starting to walk towards the trees.

Being this close to actual trees was one of the reasons that William had loved this house and been adamant about getting it. He'd grown up in places like this imself, running wild through the forests getting up to all kinds of trouble. He'd gone knees deep in streams catching frogs and crayfish, chased squirrels up tree, gone nose ot nose with more than a few stray dogs and grown up having a love and respect for the natural world. He'd hoped Ellie would have that same thing growing up, but as she'd never quite taken to it like he did. Out for hikes and some exploration, certainly, but as she'd gotten older even that was less and less.

William drew in another breath outside, taking in the scent of the woods in winter.
"I've missed having you out here with me like this too Elea, sorry, Ellie." William caught himself about to use the name that she apparently no longer wanted associated with her. He'd been calling her that all her life, so there were going to be some mistakes here and there. They were in the woods now, going past the outer trees that he'd planted before Ellie had been born, strong cedar trees that acted as a good windbreak, and provided a pleasant scent on the air as they passed them. After that they were into a mixed nunch of oak and maple and birch. A few pines were scattered around, but they were few in this place.

"You remember when you were nine? And we went deeper in to find the sugar maples? We tapped the trees, and gathered sap for most of the day, came home and made our own syrup. That was a hell of a day." William mused. It had also been a tremendous amount of work for him, carrying the huge amount of sap back to make enough syrup to be worth it. But Ellie's face had lit up when they'd poured the syrup on their pancakes, and that moment had made it all worthwhile to him.

They came to the stand that was set up to let him split wood easily. There was a single large stump, and a multitude of large rounds of wood. William stopped the sled and walked forward, shucking his coat as he went. He hung it up on a tree branch with practiced ease, adn lifted a large round of wood onto the stump.
"Hand the the splitting maul." He said simply. When he had the wider axe in hand he took stock of his target, and got to work. His arms were a steady pace, hammering the steel into the wood, blowing larger pieces off with each blow. It took a dozen before he'd broken the round into more manageable pieces. He set teh splitting maul aside, adn grabbed the normal axe. There was a good solid piece of wood left on the stump, and he swung a hard blow into it, popping it in half, making a pair of pieces that would fit well inthe fireplace.

"So, you want to do a few then? Do you remember how it's done?" He asked her with a smile, offering the axe to her.
 
The winter wonderland was more than she remembered it being. Somehow the snow seemed as if it were purer here. The color seemed a brighter shade of white. If the holiday season had a scent, she was sure what was filling her senses must be it. Everything was covered in a dusting of white. The grass had long ago been covered by snow, snow that gave under her weight as her feet sank slightly into it, leaving a trail of footprints as she went. She remembered when she was younger trying to walk in his footprints that he had left. Her legs were far shorter than his. So every step was a struggle to reach his empty footprints. She sighed at the thought that some things never change. Every step is still a struggle. The only difference being that she no had lost sight of his footprints a long time ago. She looked over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of him as they made their way. Looking back quickly, as she didn't want him to catch her, she couldn't help but smile. He hadn't seemed like this in her memories. In her memories, he was a boring bear of a man that was constantly pushing her to live in this same hometown and never change. It was why she had pushed so hard to get away from everything this town had or was, but as they walked she couldn't help but admire the beauty that was all around her. Birds. There were birds singing. The only birds she could remember seeing in the city were pigeons. 'Funny,' she thought. 'There aren't any pigeons here.' The lakes were frozen over. Natural bodies of water in the city were nowhere the size of the lakes and they were things to be avoided. There was no telling what was lurking in that water, the water that was typically only a puddle from the downpours that would plague the city. She remembered them as being miserable, even though the temperatures were not as cold as what she was now walking through. Her memories of the buildings, of the homes here, was so different. 'No,' she thought. 'I'm what's different.' It saddened her a bit to think that this change in perception was her and not her memories. All she could think to comfort herself was, 'everything changes. People change.'

They continued he began to talk about the sugar maples. A laugh erupted from her, drawing her hand over her mouth. "I forgot about that. Pancakes. I can still smell them cooking. I haven't had pancakes in a long time." She closed her eyes, silently scolding herself for forgetting for a moment that time had not passed for him. "At least that's how it feels," she quickly added, hoping it was enough to pull off a smooth recovery. "That was some of the best syrup I had ever had. You worked so hard for it. We could have just gone and bought some, but no. You were stubborn. You wouldn't stand for quitting. You're right. It was a hell of a day." As they reached the area, it all came flooding back to her. Splinters, seeing wild animals, the smells of the forest, the sounds he would make as he swung the ax, it was there, and so were they. She eyed a stump, ready to sit down, but before she did, she brushed the dirt away. Looking up, she had to check and see if he noticed. When she was younger, she would not have cared, but now? Now she was older, and dirt was....dirt. Taking her seat, she watched him go to work. He moved with practiced ease as if this were some kind of dance he had done a thousand times. He had actually. Every blow hit its intended mark, and the sounds of the wood losing its battle to remain whole was clear.

At his words, she looked up to his face. "Me? You want me to take a whack at it? That handle is dirty, isn't it? Besides, am old enough? I mean I'm only 15. Are you sure? You trust me with it," she asked, moving up and towards him. "If you're sure, I guess I can," she told him as her gloved hand reached for the handle. The dirty thing made her wince before she took hold of it. "Ha," she called out. "I got it," she said, triumph in her voice. "I can do this. I can....do this." She reached down and attempted to pick up a piece of wood. When she realized it was too heavy to lift with one hand, she let the ax fall from her grasp. "Damn thing is heavy," she teased as she managed to get it to the stump. Reaching down, she once again winced as she had to pick up the handle. "Now," she sounded. "You ready to see what I can do daddy?" Not waiting for his answer, she turned her focus to the wood before her. With a similar motion as his, she moved the ax, slamming it down into the wood before. As she tried to pull it back, it became clear the ax was stuck. A wave of laughter slowly began to rise up within her, until finally, she tilted her head back, looking up towards the sky with her eyes closed. One hand had fallen away from the ax, but one remained, lightly holding on to it. "It's....stuck," she managed to snort. "The axe....is stuck daddy. Can you help me?"
 
William had a grin on his face. She had the basics of the swing down, but she hadn't fully committed her bodyweight into the swing, and thus had only managed the smaller hit.
"Yes, it is stuck." He agreed with her. He moved up to grip the axe, and levered it out of the wood. "I know it's been a long time, so let's go over this together, eh?"

He stepped up behind her, and moved her hands onto the axe handle. She was standing right in front of him, her back to his front, and his hands were on hers, directing her.
"You keep the bottom hand on the handle firmly, like this." His fingers slid across her hand, showing her what he meant. "But your other hand, you keep it on the handle, but not rigid. You need to let it slide when you swing. Like so." He directed her through the motions of the swing, his instructions simple and clear. William seemed to get more than a little enjoyment out of teaching her this kind of thing. Really, he just liked spending time with his daughter like this. Passing on the things that he'd been taught by her grandparents.

"Now, when you swing, you can't go halfway on it. You've got to put everything you've got into the swing." He warned her. His head was beside hers, his hands just now starting to let go of hers. "So. Go for it. Show me what you've got girl." He challenged her.
 
Okay. She would have agreed with him had she been able to stop giggling. The axe drew a squelch from the wood as he took it from it with ease. Biting back on her laughter, as she realized it was now time to pay attention, she shifted her weight from one foot to the other before settling into her stance. His hands were warm and a bit rougher than she remembered. Of course, they were rough. He worked for a living. He wasn't some corporate suit that would try to sway her to sign off on some deal or to simply agree with him over dinner and cocktails. He wasn't one of the nameless faces that were often seated at the table across from her in a room with a view over the city that they both knew was beneath them. He....was dad. There was no need for him to try and buy expensive creams or gloves that would protect his hands. He didn't fear blisters or signs that he had put in an honest days work. There wasn't a single person in this world that he cared to impress. He was his own man, rough hands and all.

He showed her, his actions following through. Every movement, from his hands sliding alongside her own to the swing of the axe, was in crystal clear clarity. She nodded, not really even aware of she was doing it. This had become a learning experience for her, and she was someone who had prided herself on knowing everything she needed to. This? This was something she had long ago forgotten about. This was something she didn't feel she needed to know. There was no practical application
in the city for this. It was just another lesson, another memory she had long ago filed away and forgotten. There was something exhilarating about learning something new. She knew when the wish was done and the magic long gone this would slowly fade into the background, but for now, it was in the here and now, and it meant something for her to learn it.

She could feel his breath on her ear and feel the warmth of his face against her own. It was familiar and comforting. She liked it. As he backed away, she missed it. Though her mouth would never say it to him, she missed it. "Show you what I got," she teased. "You sure you can handle what I got?" Her index finger flicked her nose slightly before she laughed at him. "Alright. I'll show you what I got. Just remember, you asked for it," she warned before pulling back on the axe and then unleashing a hard, slamming blow with the axe. The handle slid through her fingers with ease as she threw her entire body weight into it. Expecting more damage to be done than what was actually inflicted, she wrinkled her nose. She needed to remember she was just fifteen and not the full-grown woman she felt on the inside. "Don't say it's
because I'm a girl," she warned, holding up a free hand. "I can do this, and I will," she added, her eyes lifting to meet his with glaring determination. "I will do this. I don't give up." With that she went to task on the wood, not stopping until it fell in two separate pieces. Her chest was heaving, and she felt a tiredness in her muscles she hadn't felt in a long time. Still, it felt good. A smile spread across her lips as she looked up to him. "I told you," she said, her breaths laboured. "I don't give up. When it's something I want, I don't give up." She made her way over to him and pushed the axe to his chest. The back of her fingertips rested against his shirt for a moment. "Ewww," she exclaimed. "You're sweaty," she laughed. "Gross dad. You're all sweaty, and I touched you. That's so gross. Ewwwww," her voice rose even louder. "I'm sweaty too. How is that possible? It's like colder than ice out here. Ewwwww. Yuck. Now I gotta go home and take a shower."Her laughter continued. "Come on. Let's get this wood cut and loaded. I feel so nasty. I blame you, you know," she teased, pointing her finger at him. "We could have stayed home and gotten drunk, but no. You had to cut wood today." Still laughing, she released the axe to his grip and turned to walk away. "You cut, and I'll stack. We can knock this out faster if we
work together. That sound okay to you?"
 
"Wasn't going to say it's because you're a girl, I was going to say it's because you're oput fo practice, and what, a hundred twenty pounds soaking wet? But you still got it!" He said with a smile that was both teasing and encouraging all at once. At her mild theatrics over the discovery that they were both gathering sweat made him smirk.

"Aw, you won't gimme a hug?" He asked in a mockingly sad tone, his arms open, stepping close to her. Knowing that they both needed to clean up emboldened him a little, knowing that they'd always been close, and he'd very frequently roughhoused around with her, he didn't want to see a chance for it pass. He wrapped his arms around her, lifting her off of the ground for an instant in his embrace before setting her back down. He chuckled, and moved back to the woodpile, lifting hte axe, adn following her suggestion of getting to work on it. Splittign while she stacked was a good plan overall. Get the task done.

His arms moved in a steady pace, hewing into the wood pieces and sending them away with every blow.
"I'd love to have stuck around to just drink, but I thought it might be a good idea to make sure we don't, you know, freeze while we do it." He explained in a halfhearted tone. He put more effort into a single blow that split apart the last large piece of wood that he'd been planning on taking. It wasn't too much wood, but it was a few days worth at least, adn that was enough for him. With the wood cut, adn stacked, he took up the lead rope on the sled, adn started back towards the house.

"Come on girl, we get back in decent time, I'll pour you a drink myself." He called to her by way of encouragement.
 
She listened to him prattle on with a big smile on her face. Only when she realized he might be approaching did she look up. "Oh no you don't," she yelled, backing up in an attempt to get away from him and his sweaty arms. "Dad, don't you dare," she yelled just before his arms captured her and lifted her from the ground. "Dad," she screamed. "Oh, this is so gross! You smell! This is nasty! Put me down!" Her cries seem to echo as her feet touched the ground once more. It lasted only a few seconds, but even as he backed away and headed back to the woodpile, she could still smell on him. "You weirdo," she called out to him, brushing her clothes as if she could brush away the scent. "Now all I smell is you."

They made short order of the work, quickly stacking up the wood. She wanted to sing as they worked, but realizing she might sing a song that he hadn't heard before kept her from doing so. She wondered if this would have some kind of effect on the timelines. Could she do something here in this time that could have drastic effects on her future? Stocks. Investing. She could make a choice right now that could make her even more wealthy in the future. It was a hope that was quickly dashed as she realized she didn't have the cash she would need to make anything happen. "Why didn't you make me get a job," she asked grudgingly as she continued to stack the wood. It wasn't necessarily a question she wanted him to answer. It was more of a spoken thought.

He took the rope, and she followed. Her mood had dropped since they began, and she feared it might show. Perhaps it did. He mentioned pouring her a drink himself. She didn't need him to pour. Chances were she could mix drinks that would have him impressed. It was a thought that put a smile back on her face. "How about I pour while you take a shower." She reached down and pulled her jacket up slightly to her nose. "Yeah. You take a shower. I still smell you, you know. You smell like sweat and," again she drew the material up and inhaled. "man. You smell like a man." She could feel her cheeks flush with warmth, and she shivered slightly. "You shower. I'll pour."

As they got home, the wood was put away quickly. Not hesitating, not letting any more time, she pointed towards the bathroom."Shower. Now Mister. Don't make me tell you again." She didn't have to pull the material of her jacket to her nose to be able to smell him now. It was there, hanging heavy in her nose. Shaking her head at it and the thoughts that it brought to her mind, she headed towards the alcohol. Sweet, always there, able to drown away whatever ailed her alcohol. At first,
she opened the fridge and reached for a beer, but as she withdrew from the fridge she paused. 'No,' she thought. 'I'm not a child anymore.' She put it back on the shelf and turned eyeing his liquor cabinet. There was never a lock on it. There was never a need to. She wasn't the drinking kind, but that had all changed. She made her way over to it, sashaying really. If anyone had seen her, they would have thought she was trying to impress a man sitting nearby, able to see her, able to be aroused by how she moved. It was the attraction to the art of drinking that drew this sultry walk from her. The beauty in the crystal glasses, the way ice would clink against them, how the hues burst into life once the liquor was poured, how smooth it was the moment it hit the tongue and was pushed down her throat. It was all very alluring. Opening his liquor cabinet she could help but laugh softly. He didn't disappoint.

She pulled the glasses out and browsed his selection. 'Nice,' she thought. 'Dad was holding out on me.' Various bottles, various liquors, various dates, aged to perfection. She pulled out a bottle of single malt scotch. "Not bad," she said as she worked the bottle open. The color was beautiful, spectacular even, as it filled up the glass. Carefully she poured two glasses, careful not to spill a drop. "It's not mixed drink, but it'll do. It'll certainly knock the chill out." Closing the cabinet, she picked up the glasses and headed towards his bedroom. She knew he would be in the shower still, and as she drew closer the sounds of running water confirmed her thoughts. 'I'll just leave this in his room.' Pushing the door to his room open, she called out to him. "Dad! I hope you're ready for something that's gonna warm you up and go down smooth."
 
William was endlessly glad that Eleanor seemed to be loosening up a little. It had been one of the ways they'd stayed close, joking and physical roughhousing around. William had caught flack for it over the years, many people thinking it was unseemly to do that kind of thing with a girl, but William had simply ignored them and done his best to raise his daughter to be a good person that remembered how to laugh. That had been far more important than someone's outdated adn frankly sexist outlook on how he'd been raising her.

When they were back inside, he gave out a laugh as she demanded her showered.
"I smell like a man? Well that's a funny thing, seeing how I am a man!" He challenged her. He was tempted to go after her again, but frankly, she wasn't wrong. He did need a shower. Her orders to him did make him want to tease her a little more, but he could also worry about that later. He wandered back to his room.

He kept the shower punishingly hot, scouring the sweat and grime from work off of himself. He was tempted to take the time to shave, but he had no one to show off for, and he admit he liked having a little stubble on his face. It reminded him that not everything in the world needed to be polished and shiny. Rough things had their place too. At least he hoped so, since he was about as rough as they came. He scrubbed at himself a moment, the steam billowing out from the shower stall. He heard his door opening, and while there was a fast flush of concern that his daughter had simply walked into his room like that, what did it matter?
"Thanks baby girl! I'll be out in a second!" He shouted back to her, wondering exactly what she'd brought for him. The door to his bathroom was still open, and it never crossed his mind that if someone came to teh midpoint of the room, the bathroom mirror would show his shower where he was scrubbing himself off, offering a view of his frame from behind.
 
His room looked and smelled exactly like she remembered it. The only difference was it seemed a lot smaller now. She smiled as she was able to see her reflection in his mirror. For years, all she could remember was looking up to the bottom of the frame. Now she stood tall, tall enough to gaze at her own reflection. Slowly she shook her head, appalled by her own reflection. She looked nothing like the woman she knew she would become. "It's not fair," she whispered. "Why did I have to look like this now instead of being a knock-out?" Her fingertips traced her lips before she shook her head again and looked away. His closet door was open, giving a perfect view of his wardrobe. Carefully she allowed her fingers to graze through his shirts, hanging there perfectly on their hangers. Softly she laughed. "Dad is not into designer fashion. That's for sure. He is just so..so..dad." Turning around, she saw different articles of clothing he had deposited around the room. A jacket, jeans, a hat, they were all placed carefully so as not to look messy, but clearly not where they belonged. Walking over to his jacket, she picked it up, and instantly his scent filled her nose. She held to her nose and inhaled deeply, sighing as she lowered it. "Dad. It smells like dad. Geez, I had forgotten that smell." As she placed on the bed, her mind searched for where she had smelled that scent before. Just as she was about to abandon hope, a memory flashed through her mind. There was a mechanic that she had hired to do some work for her after her car had left her stranded on the road. She had heard he came highly recommended, and she was willing to pay for his services. He had picked her up that night, giving her a ride in the truck that hauled her car back to his shop. Apologizing for her appearance, he had simply laughed. He offered no such apology for his appearance, matted by the rain, grease smeared about his face and clothes. His hands were atrocious, covered in grease. Still, he had a smile on his face. She couldn't imagine why. He made decent money, that she was sure of, but one would not know it by his appearance. Finally, she had asked, "why are you smiling? Because I'm nothing but money to you? Because I'm going to one to pay for the next case of beer you devour?" He had erupted in laughter at her comment. "No ma'am," he told her. "You're my next bottle of wine if you must know, and you could never be nothing more than money to me." It was those words accompanied by the look he gave her that lead to him pulling over and the two of them making love in his truck. Her clothes were ruined beyond belief. She had thrown them away but not immediately. No, she held on to them, thinking of that night often. It was his scent that came back to her now. Glancing down, she picked up the jacket and breathed in the scent once more. "He smelled like dad. Dad smelled like him," she mused before replacing the coat to the bed.

Taking in yet another deep breath, she made her way through the room slowly, looking at the various objects he had in there. Each one seemed so different now, and yet, they were him. They were his life. She hadn't paid much attention to them back then, but now, she couldn't get enough of looking at them. "No bowling trophies," she mumbled, before turning around in the direction of the bathroom. "Hey dad, you don't have any bowling tro....." Her voice trailed off as she caught a glimpse of him. He was in the shower, naked, water trailing down his back. "Oh..my," she whispered. She could feel her face flush, and her cheeks burned. Looking away would have been the proper thing to do. She knew it, and yet, she couldn't. Her eyes were fixed on his frame, standing there, water cascading down, disappearing into the shower. He didn't look like her dad. He looked....like a man. He looked like exactly what he was. She swallowed hard, unable to believe the reaction she was having to see him. "Leave Elle. Walk out of the room. Right now. Turn around and leave. You can do it. You have to do it. Come on girl. Let's go. Come on." Even as the whispered words left her lips, she did not turn around. Her feet did not carry her from the room. Instead, her feet began to carry her softly towards the steam radiating from the bathroom. She couldn't help but think of how this had to be wrong. As she watched his body being framed by the steam and the droplets of water that traced their way down his skin, that thought became a fleeting one. More and more he became a man and not her dad. The muscles, the curves of his body, how the sun had tanned his skin, it all became entrancing to her. She heard the all too familiar creak and froze. While being drawn to him like a moth to a flame, she had forgotten the one floorboard that always creaked. She had learned in her youth, and any time she was sneaking around in his room, she avoided it. "I'm sorry," she whispered, not even sure if he heard it amid the shower he seemed engrossed in. Still, she wanted to come closer. She wanted to lather soap on the skin on his back. Closing her eyes, she shook her head. 'No. He'll think I'm crazy. He's gonna yell at me to get out of here.' The thoughts should have been enough to make her turn from the room, and yet, she did not. Closer she came until her hand reached for the half-opened door and pulled it until creaked as it opened fully. "D-Dad," she called out, her voice shaky and hushed. She was hoping he hadn't heard the door. She wanted to take her clothes off and get in the shower with him. What will he think? What will he say?' These were questions that she became more and more convinced she needed answers for. Carefully, quietly she began to tug at her own clothes. Her eyes never left the bathroom. Any sign of him moving to exit the shower would have prompted a quick escape from her, probably resulting in a comical fall in the hall. Her clothing slide down her body easily, and without a sound, she moved the clear shower curtain and slipped in behind him. Her hands were trembling. Nearly holding her breath, she spoke softly. "I can wash your back for you if you like."
 
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