Bibliothecha Magicae

“Alexa Claire Morrow! Aren’t you supposed to be reading?”

A startled twelve-year-old Lexi nervously dropped her game controller to the floor and reached for the remote; hastily turning off the television. Busted. Lexi got up from the floor and sat on her bed. “Mom, I hate it when you use my full name. It makes me feel like I’m in trouble.”

“You know you’re supposed to read a minimum of thirty minutes a day before you’re permitted to play video games. If you haven’t done so, which I suspect you haven’t, then you may just very well be in trouble.” 

“Ugh, I hate reading and sixth grade sucks.”

Wendy Morrow understood her daughter’s protest, but hating to read was not acceptable, not in her world. "Maybe, my darling daughter, you aren’t reading the right books. Let me see what you chose from the library this week.”

Lexi reached for her backpack haphazardly thrown between her bed and the nightstand. Clearly, she hadn’t touched it or even gave it a thought since Friday afternoon. Reluctantly, Lexi freed her library book from its canvas confines and handed it to her mother. “We had to read non-fiction this week.” she explained.

“Rocks of the World”? What made you choose this book, Lex?”

“Our school librarian always puts book suggestions on the center table for us. I had to pee and was late getting there. This and some stupid book about stamps were the only two left. Rocks or stamps? Either way, I was out of luck, so I just chose the one to my right.” 

“Well, that’s quite an informed process.” 

“Ha,ha. Now, I have to read it, don’t I?”

“Yeah, you do. However, I may have a way to make this more interesting, and you get to use your laptop as well. Should I share my brilliant idea?” 

“Brilliant?”

“Absolutely. Ready?”

Lexi hated to admit, her curiosity was getting the best of her, and Mom did have some really great ideas. As much as she dreaded reading about rocks, she knew it might be worth it to hear her mother out. “Ok, what have you come up with this time?” 

“Well, rocks don’t have to be as boring as the general term connotes. Some rocks are actually gems and crystals with magical properties. They can bring about luck, love, good health, and even money. So, my idea is, read the book and look up the rocks that catch your attention to see if they are in fact, magical. Make a list instead of writing a traditional book report. I think it could be fun, don’t you?” 

Lexi was intrigued, but like most twelve-year-olds, she was also very skeptical; exactly what Wendy was counting on. “Magic? Really, Mom?”

“It’s real, Lex. I have told you the story about the magic library, haven’t I?” 

Lexi giggled, “No. I think I’d remember such a fairy tale.” 

“Would you like to hear it, now?”

“Sure. It’s not like I can go back to playing video games, right?”

“Right.” 

“Before you get started, can we have snacks? Can I count story time as my thirty minutes of reading tonight?” 

Wendy marveled over her daughter’s negotiation attempt. She may very well become an attorney like her grandmother. She smiled and thought to herself, “there are worse things!” “Yes, to snacks, and that's a big hell no, to counting it as your reading time. Nice try though.”

“Fine-uhhh. I’ll go make popcorn and meet you in the living room.” Lexi stomped out of her room and down the stairs into the kitchen. Wendy ducked into her bedroom and kneeled beside her bed. She pulled a tattered dress box toward her, lifted the lid and plucked a thick hardcover book from the myriads of saved memories and treasures. She held it to her chest, close to her heart; this book, this insanely famous story about a magical boy changed her world and it was time to share that magic with Lexi.

“Ready?” Lexi asked from the couch. “I made caramel corn with M&M’s.”

“I am.” Wendy settled in next to her daughter and handed the well-worn, dust covered book to Lexi. “This book and a very kind, entirely cool woman named Elsbeth saved my life.” 

“I’m assuming this all happened before Gran and Gramps adopted you.”

“Yes, I was younger than you when I became homeless and had to fend for myself.” 

“I know, Mom. You and Dad were both living on the streets when you met, right?”

“Yes, Lexi, but I met Elsbeth even before I knew your father. I was eleven and winter was well on its way. The biting cold came early that year and by late October kids like me were struggling to find warmth, shelter, food and a small act of kindness from another was a rare occurrence. I envied the kids who were proficient in pickpocketing and panhandling. I tried both and nearly got caught many times. I had much better luck just being honest and learning to read people; determining who would help and who would call the authorities. That winter I managed to wander far from the park where I was used to sleeping at night. I was lost and so afraid when I saw this odd little bookstore that seemed to call to me, welcoming as if it had been waiting for me to get lost so it could find me. I walked in expecting to be thrown out; I was used to that. No one wanted a dirty street kid devaluing perfectly good real estate in their place of businesses.”

“I thought you said library, not bookstore.”

“I did, now if you don’t mind, I’d like to continue.” 

Lexi laughed. “Go for it.” 

“Elsbeth stood behind the counter pretending she hadn’t noticed me come in. She was so striking with her dark brown hair, long and wavy with thick chunks of bleach blonde framing her face. Her eyeglass frames were bright red and matched her lipstick perfectly. She wore a purple velvet jacket and jeans. I remember being so envious of her style. Elsbeth had a kind smile and such an easy way about her. She let me wander, perusing every book title while I kept warm.”

“Where is she now?” Lexi inquired.

“I have no idea, but I truly wish I did. Anyway, that first day I left before she closed the store. We exchanged not a word, but I somehow knew I was invited to return. It was brutally cold that night and I could not wait for that little bookstore to reopen. I spent the morning sitting quietly in the far corner, completely concealed by shelving and stacks of books too unpopular to be displayed front and center. Around noon, Elsbeth approached and handed me half of her sandwich a small bag of chips and a bottle of water. “Lunch is served.” she said with the kindness of an Angel. I ate and she returned to her post behind the counter. Soon after, I heard a man’s voice; abrasive and threatening. He was going on about banned books and said he’d be back to restore holy justice to the shop he referred to as a vessel for hedonism and heretical lore.”

“What’s hedonism?” 

“Um, self-indulgence; like when people value what makes them happy over what is considered right.”

“So, this guy was basically mean and boring?”

“I suppose. Anyway, he did return right before closing time and began again to berate poor Elsbeth. He was loud and menacing; scared me to death. I tried to find a place to hide and accidentally opened a door in the back of the store and stumbled into a hidden room. I panicked and shut the door behind me. I could barely see but I was too afraid to move and search for a light switch, so I stood there frozen in fear for what seemed like hours, but realistically, it was maybe fifteen minutes while that man continued to shout.” 

“Holy crap!” Lexi exclaimed, now completely invested in her mother’s story. She stuffed yet another handful of popcorn into her mouth and motioned for Wendy to continue.

“Eventually Elsbeth found me in the secret room, and when she turned on the lights, I realized it was filled with books”

“So, you stumbled into a stockroom? Hardly a feat of magic, Mom.”

“It was certainly not a stockroom; it was an actual library of her very own making. You see; that horrible man was Pastor Albright from an odd little church serving some manufactured denomination no one had ever heard of around the corner from the bookstore. He believed there was true evil in most of the books that had ever been written and made it his mission to ban them from being sold in “his” neighborhood. What would have really pleased him was to be able to run Elsbeth off for good, closing the store and eliminating what he claimed was yet another den of the Devil. His rant could only be described as a lunatics skewed definition of a gospel having nothing to do with a true and pure belief in a higher power. She stood her ground as best as she could, pulling certain books from her shelves and concealing them in that room. Some of her customers and so many kids like me would come each day and ask to “borrow” those books.”

“For free? And they actually returned them?”

“Not all were honorable, but Elsbeth didn’t mind. She only wanted people to enjoy good literature and help children learn and love to read. Loaning the books kept her from Albright’s accusations of profiting from soul corruption in epic proportion, quite a dramatic description for a meager neighborhood bookstore. The pastor was obviously depraved in his sermon. Albright was the antithesis of imagination and childlike wonder. Elsbeth knew kids, especially kids like me, were exposed to enough evil to cause us constant worry. She was determined to disallow Albright the opportunity to take any more joy from our lives. So, when some of her books failed to be returned, Elsbeth took faith in the fact that they were out in the world, being read and enjoyed as they were intended.

 Most of her secret books had elements of magic peppered throughout the plots and storylines. Some told tales of monsters and mayhem while others were written about ordinary people who simply loved to dream. That night, Elsbeth handed me this book, and invited me to sleep in the library.” Wendy gestured toward her most coveted possession, the book from Elsbeth, now resting comfortably on the coffee table. “This book reminds me of you.” She said, “The main character is so special, and no one seems to realize it until an absolute miracle happens. He is whisked away to an enchanted castle where everyone believes in him, wants to help, teach and care for him; a life he could only dream of becomes his reality. This is going to happen for you someday. Keep this book with you always as a reminder of hope. It is my gift to you.” Elsbeth handed me a blanket from the tiny closet and gestured to an overstuffed chair near the door. “It's going to dip down below freezing tonight. It isn’t much, but it’s safe and warm.” 

“You stayed, Mom?”

“I did. I stayed that night, and many thereafter. Not only did I read the book Elsbeth gave me, but at least a hundred more.”

“Hey, so that kind of did happen for you. I mean, you eventually got adopted by an awesome family who loves you more than anything and you never had to worry about how you were going to survive again.”

“Yes, Lexi. I often wonder how Elsbeth could have ever predicted my good fortune.”

“Magic.”

“I suppose.”

“Did you spend your days there too?”

“Sometimes. However, as long as I was in by the time Elsbeth closed at six, I could come and go as I pleased. She never questioned my whereabouts.”

“Did she ever lock you out for being late?”

“No. I was always back before closing. I do suspect though, if I were late, Elsbeth would have waited a bit to ensure my safe return.”

“Is the bookstore still there?”

“No, my love. For nearly four months I made that secret library my home. I took great pride in having a place to stay, cleaning and organizing for Elsbeth. I would often recommend books I had already read to Elsbeth’s special library patrons; making me feel like I was an important part of something great. I could literally feel the spirits of the characters and authors gracing me with their wisdom and adventures as I sought sanctuary in Elsbeth’s private library that winter. I read about everything from witches and fairies to teachers and troublemakers. I made them all my friends, my family. Their wondrous lives gave my empty life renewed purpose. Every story spoke to me; telling me that life could be filled with beauty and love, and of course magic; even my life, someday. That makeshift library was my very first classroom, generously lending to me more knowledge than it or I could ever imagine.”

“Do you think the magical library is the reason you became a writer, Mom?”

“I do. Every time I write, I can feel its pulse deep in my memory; like a beating heart enchanting my words, guiding them to become a worthy piece for my own beloved readers.”

“That’s kind of cool.”

“Ha, thank you.”

“So, what happened to that mean pastor.?” 

“He eventually cracked; burned down the bookstore and was sent to prison.”

“Are you serious?”

“I am. It was early one morning; I believe it was the summer after my time in the library. He broke in the back door and found Elsbeth’s stash of books he disapproved of. The news reported that he returned later with some type of accelerant and intentionally set it in flames, claiming to have been called to cleanse the place by fire. The reporters were certain no one perished, but like I said, I have no idea what happened to my dear Elsbeth.”

“Mom, can we go to our public library tomorrow?” Lexi mused over the notion of discovering some magic of her own. 

“I’d love that.” Wendy’s heart swelled. She never expected Lexi to be just like her, nor did she want to discourage the child from pursuing her own dreams. But, oh, wouldn’t it be amazing for mother and daughter to share a love of books?” 

The next morning after breakfast, Wendy and Lexi drove the five miles from their house to the Burlington County Public Library. It was an old brick building surrounded by mature oaks and newly planted petunias in raised wooden flower boxes. A small fountain featuring an Angel made of stone, holding an open book stood in the center of the perfectly manicured front lawn like a beacon of hope for the future.

They parked on the side street and leisurely walked along the cobblestone path, under the majestic oaks and past the parabolic reading Angel to the front steps leading inside. Lexi noticed a few children gathered near the side alley. They sat together under the awning, reading and chatting among themselves.

“Why haven’t we ever been here?” Wendy asked, not expecting an actual answer from her distracted daughter.

Lexi took her mother’s hand, “It was never the right time, I guess. Today just feels like a good day to make time, don’t you agree?” 

“I do.”

Mother and daughter entered, hand in hand and approached the large circular desk in the middle of the first floor, just under the spiral staircase. The librarian behind the desk looked away from her computer screen and turned to greet them. “Welcome” she began with a kind and familiar voice. "My name is Elsbeth, is there anything specific you’re hoping to discover in the library today?”