A Magical Bookshop Moment

Josie roamed the cobblestone streets of Victoria alone, looking for the perfect cozy nook to duck into to escape the gloom and doom of the rain. As quaint as the town was, the weather wasn’t holding up its end of the bargain. Her eyes lit up as she noticed a shop window filled to the brim with vintage books. Bingo, she thought and made her way across the street.

Her fingers tingled with excitement as she pushed open the heavy wooden door, or perhaps it was simply the initial exposure to the warmth within. Whatever it was, there was nothing more magical than walking through the stacks of a homey bookshop on a rainy day and Josie could feel her cold exterior beginning to thaw from its energy already.

As she lowered her hood and shook the droplets off at the door, she made eye contact with the shopkeeper at the counter. He was an older man, so old she couldn’t help but think he was possibly even as old as the shop itself. The curious way in which he studied Josie gave her the feeling he thought he knew her and was trying to place her in his weary memories. His cool blue eyes were strangely comforting. She gave him a polite smile and made her way deeper into the store.

Tables and shelves filled every inch of the space, leaving only a one-foot-wide path for perusing, which was fine as she was the only patron in the shop. She inched her way around until a book on a table by the ornate cash register caught her eye. Everywhere she went, she inevitably gravitated towards ancient copies of Charles Dickens’s Bleak House. She was sure there was some sort of grim symbolism in there for her somewhere, but she was delighted by the synchronicity each time.

The book felt warm in her hand as she picked it up. Someone must have been looking at this before me, she mused, suddenly distracted by the feeling of eyes on her. She looked up and once again met the eyes of the elderly shopkeeper. He didn’t say anything, only smiled knowingly. It was almost as if he knew what she had been about to do, her guilty pleasure when visiting vintage bookstores.

You know what, she thought. He’s owned a bookshop for God only knows how long, I’m sure he’s seen this before. And with that, she opened the book and took a great, big whiff of that glorious book scent.

The room began to dissolve around her. In the amount of time she had to wonder if she was about to pass out from some ancient, toxic bookbinding glue, the room solidified under her feet once again, but with a few noticeable differences.

First, the book in her hand now appeared to be brand new. The once faded cover, slightly torn at one corner, was now vibrant and pristine. In fact, every book in the shop was in tip-top shape, though still in the same haphazard stacks. Above the register that she’d admired earlier was a large banner that read GRAND OPENING and below the banner was…

She gasped as she made eye contact with the shopkeeper. He was about her age, early thirties, and had chestnut hair but she would recognize those blue eyes anywhere, having been studied so carefully by them only moments ago. He gave her no hint of recognition but did look rather startled by her sudden appearance. They stared at each other in shock for a moment before anyone spoke.

“Are you ready to check out?” the boy asked uncertainly, reaching out to take the book from her trembling hands.

Josie took an involuntary step back at the gesture, sending a nearby stack toppling in the process. She dropped her copy of Bleak House in surprise.  

“I’m so sorry, I’ve made such a mess!” she apologized, bending to pick up the pile. The shopkeeper hurried around the counter to help.

“All is well,” he said, kindly. “I’ve done the same thing several times myself today. I’m Henry, welcome to my store!”

Josie smiled. “Hello, Henry.” This young man had instantly put her at ease with his gentle demeanor. “This is ridiculous, but I was just looking at a book, having a nice sniff as you do, and somehow ended up here. I don’t even know what happened!” She babbled as she gathered the books she’d disrupted into a neat stack and stood up empty-handed. Oh, Dickens!

“Looking for this?” he said. He held the copy of Bleak House she’d brought with her from her own time, gazing at its cover fondly. “This is one of my favorites. I’ve collected so many copies over the years that I thought I’d better start a bookshop to sell them in. You’ll be my first customer!”

With a beam that nearly split his face in two, he handed her the book. Charmed, Josie reached out to take it, their fingers touching briefly, just long enough for her to feel a jolt from behind her navel. The room began to dissolve once again and poof, she was gone.

* * *

Henry shook his head and blinked. Had he gone mad? Wasn’t he just speaking with a beautiful woman about the wonders of Dickens? One minute he was preparing to unlock his doors for the grand opening of his dreams, the next he was experiencing the whirlwind of an enchanting illusion. He clutched his chest; it had felt so real. The butterflies still flitted about in his stomach. The connection had happened. He would see her again; he just knew it.

He cleared his throat. “I will be here every day,” he vowed aloud to the empty shop. “In case you ever need a fresh copy of a classic novel. I will be here.”

Henry ran his fingers through his hair, smoothed his shirt, and unlocked the heavy wooden door. He knew the magic of this bookshop would change lives and it was only day one.

* * *

“No!” Josie shouted, as her fingers slipped away from the boy’s. Something amazing had been about to happen, she was sure of it. She held on tightly to the book in her hands. It was once again soft and faded, well-loved from years of enjoyment.

“You’re back,” said a gentle voice, startling her back to the present.

She looked up into the crinkled blue eyes of the elderly shopkeeper. The warmth from the book radiated through her whole body as they smiled knowingly at each other. Josie had not stumbled upon the quaint bookshop by accident; she had been called there by a soul she had known before, long ago in a brief moment of magic, forever bound by the love of a good book.