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Day two was David’s tradition.
“Even though we didn’t have a lot of money, my mother always tried to make Christmas special,” David recalled fondly. The group was sitting around the dining room table in the Charming household, eating sandwiches for lunch. Mary Margaret squeezed her husband’s hand reassuringly under the table.
“I’d always go out in the forest and find a good-sized tree to bring home,” David continued. “We couldn’t always afford decorations, but my mother loved the smell of pine, so I always went to get one. Each year, she would make a special dinner of roasted ham and potato soup. And,” he remembered with a smile, “she would always save up for a loaf of cinnamon nutmeg bread.”
“Your mother was a wonderful woman,” Mary Margaret said softly.
“She really was,” David agreed, nodding thoughtfully, a crinkle appearing in his brow.
So, the men went to go find the perfect tree while mother and daughter worked to make a dinner just the way David had remembered it. The two women skinned potatoes and sliced vegetables and cheese. While the ham was baking in the oven, Mary Margaret told Emma the story of when she met David’s mother.
“Wow, she sounds like one stubborn woman,” Emma remarked, clearly impressed by her grandmother. “I wish I could have met her.”
“And I wish I could have known her for more than a day,” Mary Margaret added, slowly stirring the potato soup. “But, if it wasn’t for her courage, you wouldn’t be here, and who knows where we would be!”
“Well, true love is the strongest magic of all,” Emma replied, raising an eyebrow and smirking. “You and Dad would have broken the curse after a while.” Mary Margaret smiled.
“Perhaps,” she said, turning around, “but I’m sure glad we never had to test that theory.” It was quiet for a moment, before Mary Margaret announced that it was time to make the cinnamon nutmeg bread. The duo pulled out all the ingredients and donned aprons. As Mary Margaret tied an apron around her daughter’s neck, Emma caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass cabinets and chuckled.
“I never thought I’d see myself in one of these,” she smirked, shaking her head. She felt the pink frills on the end of it and made a face. “I’m not sure it suits me.” Mary Margaret merely placed her hands on her hips.
“Well I think you look cute!”
With being described as “cute” still ringing in Emma’s ears, she set to grating the nutmeg with extra fervor. They turned on some Christmas music, and mother and daughter happily worked side by side. A bit of baking soda may have been thrown. A whisk may very well have been used as a microphone. They were laughing when Mary Margaret looked over at Emma.
“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted to do this with you,” she said with a soft smile. “I made so many pies, cakes, and pastries when I lived with those dwarves, that I got pretty good at baking,” she recalled. “I loved how something so simple like a pie could lighten the mood of everyone, even Grumpy!”
“Wow, there must have been some magic in that pie, then!” Emma quipped. But Mary Margaret barely even smiled, lost in thought.
“I truly enjoyed it,” she continued, “and I wanted to teach you all of my favorite recipes, spend time with you like this….” Her voice drifted off and she swallowed hard.
“Hey,” Emma said, wrapping her arm tightly around Mary Margaret in a side hug. “We’re doing it now, okay?” Her mother nodded quickly, looking up through eyes gleaming with tears.
“And though it’s not exactly what I’d call fun on a Saturday night,” she continued, wiping the remaining powder off her hands, “we can do this anytime you want.” This earned her a small laugh, and the mood went back to its light-heartedness.
Just as they were taking out the ham and putting in the bread, Hook, Henry, and David shuffled in with a large Christmas tree. Their cheeks were bitten red from the cold, but they wore the biggest grins, quite proud of their conquest. Emma and Killian set the table while Mary Margaret helped David and Henry find the perfect place for it.
“I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you in pink before, Swan,” Killian observed, not trying to suppress the smirk that crept over his face as he touched one of the frills with the end of his hook.
“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.”
“Well why not?” Killian said. “I think it suits you quite well. What do you think, David?” David peeked out from behind the tree.
“Absolutely,” David agreed. “I think you look cute.” Emma flashed an accusing look at Mary Margaret, who was biting her lip in vain trying hide her smile.
“I didn’t say anything,” she said deviously, shrugging and turning her attention back to the tree. Emma just rolled her eyes and went back to putting glasses on the table.
That night was spent listening to the boys’ tree finding adventure, eating good food, and enjoying one another’s company.