The Stocking

The Gift

"Thomas?" she wavered.

He looked around in confusion, eyes scouring the floor beneath him for the small voice. When his eyes fell upon her, his face softened in a way made Fawn's heart flutter.

"There you are" he uttered gently. His eyes seemed to drink her in fondly for a moment, before they settled on her pack.

"Are you going somewhere?"

Fawn stiffened. The bag on her shoulders seemed to grow heavier.

"I...I saw the packing boxes this morning, Thomas. I heard what you said to Walker on Christmas Eve."

His brow furrowed, as if searching for some sense to her words.

"Ah." He concluded. "Selling the house. So you heard that, did you."

She nodded ruefully.

He paused for a moment, as if lost in his own thoughts.

"I did think of selling it," he ventured. "After my mother and brother died. Many times in fact. I was going to use the money to fund my passage aboard The Peacock. They were mounting a scientific expedition across the globe and were in need of another naturalist. I wanted to get as far away as possible..."

He trailed off, smiling sadly. 

"What I said last night, Fawn...it was the ramblings of a drunken fool, one feeling much too sorry for himself. I'm not going to sell the acreage. Especially not now..."

He let the last phrase linger for a moment, his head titling slightly as he gazed at her.

"The boxes you saw...they had a decidedly different purpose. Now, why don't you come out of there and have a look around."

Fawn's brow knitted. She glanced at him uncertainly a few times as she strayed hesitantly forward past the crumbling entrance to the walls, the landscape of the parlour unfurling before her.

Her mouth parted in awe.

Candles dotted every surface, flashes of dazzling flame refracting off crystal, silver and gold until the room sparkled like the night sky. A deep gasp of wonder brought the sharp and earthy sweetness of fresh-cut evergreen and tangy citrus to her nose, the fronds tumbled generously over tables and doorways, mingling with joyful bursts of ripe, red holly. Beside the roaring fireplace, a towering fir tree stood proudly, its sweeping branches beckoning in invitation.

He draped his arm over his knee, his handsome face breaking into a triumphant grin. "Well, what do you think?"

Fawn shook her head incredulously, turning in circles to take in the spectacular view. A lump pricked at the back of her throat.

"Thomas...it's...it's magnificent."

His mouth pulled into a wry smile.

"Go on, don't be shy " he nodded.

She let her pack drop, heart surging with a wave of giddiness. Darting forward over the vast stretch of hardwood, she came to a standstill beneath the sprawling branches of the Christmas tree. Looking upward, it seemed as if she was standing at the base of a great palace, each row of branches like an endless, spiraling staircase; each candle a flickering torch. Reaching her hand up, she trailed her fingers over the low-hanging boughs, fingers sticking slightly with sweet sap.

It was magical.

She strayed back outward in a daze, her gaze finding Thomas' from across the room.

"But I don't understand..." she faltered. "Christmas was yesterday..."

The ground tremored, floorboards creaking as Thomas pushed himself upward to his full, and terrible height. Fawn felt her heart drop straight through her stomach as he strode slowly forward, his polished, black boots thundering with each encroaching step. Her nerves fired off wild warnings to flee, and it took every effort of her free will to wrangle them down. Still, she couldn't help but stagger back slightly beneath the cover of the tree as he finally reached her, smiling down in amusement from his impossible height.