Stockings
Regina smiled softly at the box of decorations. They always went up the first weekend of December, to stay right through into January. She hadn’t bothered before adopting Henry, but he had brought a light into her life she couldn’t believe she had ever lived without. The first year it was just the tree and some stockings. As time went on there was the wreath on the door, the leaf garland that wrapped around the banister, and the hundreds of handmade Christmas crafts she refused to part with. Henry loved decorating for Christmas.
It would be their first without him. In fact, they hadn’t seen him in months, not since they had left him on his graduation trip. She couldn’t help it. She missed him. For as long as he was out there in the world, a piece of her heart would always be separate from her.
That was a few weeks ago now. She’d come to terms with their son’s absence this Christmas. Or at least, she had until she was pulling the boxes out of the attic. Henry’s stocking was on top, the swooping embroidery she’d paid extra for at the school’s winter fayre. Should she still put it up? It wouldn’t be right not to.
She flattened the stocking out against her thighs, brushing down the creases and plucking off the stray bits of dust that had settled over the last year. Beneath it was her own matching one, the same writing saying ‘Mommy’. Both had a treble crochet pattern in deep burgundy, the golden trim to highlight the crafter’s work. Every year, ‘Santa’ filled them to bursting with little gifts.
The third Stocking made her heart sink. She’d tried every year to get Emma a matching one to hers and Henry’s, but the woman who had sold them at the fayre had died and nobody else seemed to know how to recreate it. Emma said it was fine and had brought home a cheap felt monstrosity to join them on the mantel. Regina had insisted they could simply get a new set, but Emma wouldn’t allow it. “The kid’s had this one all his life. It’s fine.”
She refolded the stockings and returned them to the box.
-
A few hours later, a two-year-old Emma was strapped into the back of the Mercedes and on her way to one of Regina’s favourite little Christmas shops. It was quite a drive for such a little thing – she hadn’t been expecting Emma to be just as small as she was – so she dumped practically every toy they had into the back seat to keep her occupied. She needn’t have bothered. Emma was happy staring out the window singing all the Christmas songs she knew.
She had just finished her third rendition of Jingle Bells by the time they were pulling up. Though there wasn’t a lot of snow, a thin layer had coated the ground, and Emma delighted herself in crunching through it on their way to the shop. Regina didn’t have the heart to stop her, so she allowed the thirty-second walk to stretch into almost five minutes. Unbeknownst to Emma, an elderly couple stopped a little ways off to watch her. Regina beamed proudly at them as they finally stepped through the door.
Steering Emma away from the more fragile ornaments, they stopped safely before the wall of stockings. Regina pulled Emma back into her legs, hugging her arms across the girl’s chest. She whispered in her ear, “pick whichever ones you want, baby.”
Green eyes peered around, “any of dem?”
She pressed a kiss to the side of Emma’s head. “Any of them.”
Emma toddled forward, a slight hop to her step that Regina just adored. She skimmed her fingers across the wide display, stopping occasionally to look closer at one or to snatch her hand away from a bad fabric. She’d crossed the entire row a couple of times before checking back in with Regina.
There was uncertainty there. “What d’you like?”
The queen shifted forward to rest her hand against Emma’s back, a rich chuckle surrounding them. “It’s up to you, baby. I’ll be happy with any of them.”
A smile erupted on her face as she surged up to a reindeer stocking. The top was made out of a thick, downy fabric depicting a reindeer face, with ears and tiny antlers coming out from it. Separating the face from the heel and toe was a wide expanse of deep red, a thin scarf knotted across the middle with the option to be personalised.
“Dis mine.” Emma pulled it from the rung and handed it back to Regina. She removed a penguin stocking in a similar style. “An’ dis Henry’s.” She pushed onto her tiptoes to reach for a third animal. It took a moment to knock the Polar Bear down, at which point she cradled it lovingly. “An dis yours. Coz it a mama bear.”
Regina’s heart swelled until she was certain it would explode. She couldn’t rid the emotion from her voice. “You made a lovely choice.”
If Emma picked up on it, she didn’t comment. “We get our names on dem too?”
“Of course, darling.”
She fingered the bear’s large, embroidered eye, glancing up somewhat hesitantly. “An’ on Christmas I’ll hab fings?”
Every Christmas since Emma moved in, all three stockings had been full to bursting. Regina had always filled hers herself to ensure that Henry wouldn’t question anything, but she had been shocked when she went to put in her token gifts to find Emma – perhaps with their son’s assistance – had already filled it. Of course, she had done Emma’s too, and they shared the responsibility for Henry. Never had someone in 108 Mifflin Street had an empty stocking.
But little Emma tended to forget these things. “I can assure you there will be plenty for you to open on Christmas morning.”
Emma nodded mostly to herself as she took the two stockings from Regina’s arms. “I carry dem.”
“You carry them.” Regina agreed, placing a hand on the back of Emma’s head.
If she was sure of nothing else, it was that Emma would not be disappointed come Christmas.