Beloved One

It was a week later when I woke up from sleep and suddenly felt very lonely for my father. I felt like I hadn’t seen him in years and years, and my whole body ached with the pain of that feeling. I leapt out of bed and dressed as quickly as I could, then fled down the wooden stairs and to the kitchen where mom was preparing breakfast on our stove.

“Hi, Daddy!” I ran to him and enveloped him in the biggest hug of my life, squeezing him tightly and breathing in the father smell. My father smells like bugs and dirt and plants and things, because he’s a potions witch and he spends every second of his spare time in the garden. I like him best at dinnertime when he smells the most like the earth.

“Hi, Punkin.” dad ruffled my hair. “You’re up early.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.” he sat down at the kitchen table, then rose again.

“Shoot, I haven’t gotten the paper.”

“I’ll go!” I dashed to the door and collected the morning paper, whisking it back into the kitchen and presenting it proudly to my father. “There you go. Do you want some coffee, daddy?”

“No…” dad stared past my ear and grinned ear to ear at mom “But I’ll have some juice, thanks.”

I poured him some while they beamed at each other, almost wringing their hands. I don’t know what they were so thrilled about.

The rest of the day was horrible. Summertime meant no school, but it also meant daddy had to go to work and I had no distraction. I missed him every second of the day, and worried about him and wished he was home. I complained for him, kept checking the clock and asking when he’d be home.

“Why don’t you go play with your friends?” mom finally asked me at noon, She was sweeping the floor.

“I’d rather take daddy his lunch. Can I?” I asked eagerly.

“He brought his lunch. Don’t bother him at work.” mom said firmly. “Go play with Wandella.”

“All Wandella ever does now is fly around with Sherrilyn and Madeline.” I sighed.

“What about Easter?”

“I don’t want to be with Easter.” I huffed grumpily. I sank into a chair in the living room, sunlight pouring in the windows at me, aching for dad.

“Tell you want.” mom finally decided. “You can take him this note. Maybe you’re right - we do need a pigeon!”

“I told you.” I smiled. “We’re like the only family in town who doesn’t have one!”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” she handed me a neatly folded note. “Now don’t linger there - he’s busy.”

“Thank you!” I flew out the door and skipped quickly down the streets. I was going to see him!

Daddy works at the grocer’s store. When he was my age he worked there bagging groceries, and then when he was a bit older he ran the till. Now he owns the whole shop, and pays someone else to do those things. He sits in his office at the back and does paperwork.

The store is small, but it’s a place I’ve always known. I headed right to the back and entered the staff room, waved hello to a couple of the guys in there on their break. I found my daddy at his desk.

“Hi!” I threw my arms around his neck and covered him with kisses. “I brought you a note from mom!”

He read it briefly and said “Tell her I said okay. Thanks honey.”

“Can’t I stay here a while? Please?” I begged in my cutest voice. He was stern.

“I’m busy, Josephine. Go home okay? I’ll see you tonight.”

I left feeling totally dejected.

A week or so passed much in this way. I thought of daddy constantly, was restless, and I missed him so much I kept bumping into things and toppling over. My friends all kept sending each other secret smiles whenever I was around - I didn’t understand why. I really didn’t.

Looking back on it, I wonder how it can be so blatantly obvious when you’re watching it happen to somebody else, but not at all so when it’s happening to you. I don’t know - there are so many things I don’t understand.

But it finally happened, in any case. Halfway into the second week I was walking along beside the houses across the Brooke, minding my own business, when my foot caught on something rigid stretched out along the path. I lost all balance, and smashed into the ground so painfully I saw stars. I was dizzy, my ears were throbbing - yet I was happier than I’d ever been in my entire life.

For suddenly it was clear - as blind as I’d been for two weeks, it suddenly came crashing into my sight. I knew all. I knew everything. I’d been clumsy. Daddy had been my Beloved One. And I, Josephine Spiderweb Cray, had found my magic.

The thing I had tripped over was a finely polished bit of wood - the handle of an already-made broom. The twig part was stuck under a bush by one of the houses, so I couldn’t see what sort of broom it was. Waiting a second before pulling it out, I sat thinking with my heart thudding with excitement.

The handle was smooth, polished. The wood was honey-colored, and the tip was rounded. It was elegant - dainty yet strong. A perfect broom for me. I thought of what I’d do once I explained to the residents of the house what had happened.

I would call all my friends. We would celebrate. My parents would be thrilled. I’d go find Grandfather Waldemere and ask him to be my teacher. I’d learn magic - for as soon as I’d made contact with that broom I’d become instantly flooded with magic. I could feel it coursing through my veins - strong and bright and wonderful. It was the best thing I’d ever felt in my entire life - I was so happy and excited I could hardly contain myself.

Finally satisfied with the amount of anticipation I’d built up, I took hold of the smooth wooden handle, just the right size for my hand, and pulled out the remainder of the broom from the bush. And stared.

No, no, no - this is wrong, I thought, dread filling my veins like something icier than death. What had happened? This wasn’t supposed to happen - it never had happened, according to Witch’s history records. I sat there holding the wretched thing, so scared I was almost crying. Something was wrong with me, clearly - I wasn’t normal after all.

In my hands I held a garden rake.