Becoming Johanna

by C. A. Pack

have a choice. I must remain here to watch over these books.”

  Johanna got down to business. “I’m here to pick up a package for Mr. Morton.”

  “Yes, of course,” the old man replied. “If you’ll do me the favor of helping me off the floor.”

  “What happened to you? Did you fall?”

  “No. I was cranking the window shut when a wind gust lifted the cover of a book on paleontology. A pterosaur flew out and knocked me over.”

  He ignored her shocked expression as he continued. “Thank goodness I held on to the window crank. As I went down, I pulled the window closed. The book cover dropped back into place and that stopped the pterosaur in its tracks, or there would have been a mess in here. We’re lucky it was an Istiodactylus and not one of its larger brethren, or I dare say, things might have ended differently, and you may have been attacked as soon as you entered the door.”

  “I wouldn’t have liked that,” she responded. “May I have Mr. Morton’s book now?”

  “Yes, yes, of course, just be careful with it. It would never do to have gangs of Bengal tribesmen running all around Exeter, looking for witches to kill.”

  Johanna must have gaped at the man, because he quickly added, “Don’t worry. The book is securely wrapped in brown paper and all tied up with twine in a nice, neat package. You should be perfectly safe.”

  She reluctantly took the package, and found her way back to the vestibule. The door slammed shut behind her, and once again, the world grew dreary. She looked around for her umbrella, but it was gone. Great.

  She made a mad dash for her car, and carefully navigated the roads of Exeter, looking for Bay House. When she finally found it, she realized she would have to run for the door with the book stashed under her coat to protect it.

  Johanna hurried, even though the walkway was slick. She hoped she wouldn’t slip and fall and somehow give free rein to the fury of the men in the book she carried.

  She banged the doorknocker several times. Manners be damned. She just wanted to deliver the book and go home.

  A large, muscular man pulled the door open.

  “Mr. Morton?”

  “You have the book?”

  “Yes, I do. And it put me through quite a bit of trouble.” She pulled the book from under her coat and fussed with the string that bound it.

  The man pulled the book from her hands and slammed the door in her face.

  “Hey,” she screamed, banging the knocker. “I want a receipt for that, and I’m not leaving until I get one.” But she waited in vain. In the rain. And when a bolt of lightning cracked overhead, she retreated to her car and slowly made her way home.

  Johanna arrived at Book Services the following morning to find the pile of work on her desk had more than doubled in size. She glared at her colleague Lucinda. She felt sure the older girl worked late for the sole purpose of dumping unwanted work on Johanna’s desk. Lucinda appeared to be as busy as ever and didn’t looked up.

  B-B-B-R-R-R-I-I-I-N-N-N-G-G-G!

  Johanna closed her eyes, just for a moment, and wished she were somewhere else. The phone continued to ring until she reluctantly picked it up.

  “I want to see you in my office.”

  Disgusted, Johanna threw her purse under her desk. I’m only two minutes late, she thought, and she’d spent more than an hour of her own time the previous evening making a delivery for her boss. What does he want from me, blood?

  When she got to his cramped cubicle, he motioned for her to sit down. “How did everything go last night?”

  “Fine. I got the package and delivered it to Mr. Morton, who, I might add, refused to give me a receipt for it. He just slammed the door in my face and left me standing there in the rain.”

  Her boss reached behind him and pulled out her umbrella. “Here. I believe you left this behind.”

  “I didn’t leave it behind. I leaned it against the wall so it wouldn’t drip water everywhere, and when I left, it wasn’t there. Were you following me?”

  “No. And I’m not interested in the history of your umbrella. I just want to know what you saw when you went to the ... uh ... library.”

  “What do you mean, what I saw?” Visions of a half-eaten Moby-Dick flashed before her. Had the little old man complained about her?

  “Well, leaving your umbrella behind would imply that you were either there for some length of time or left in a hurry because of some atrocity.”

  She wouldn’t really call the goat an atrocity, and she hadn’t actually seen the pterosaur. However, she had been there more than a few minutes, soaking in the wonders of her dream library and the enchanted books it held.

  “It took me a while to get in, you know. I think the bell is broken.”

  “I’ve never gotten in,” he replied offhandedly. “Every time I turn to leave, I hear a rush of air behind me. By the time I turn back, the parcel is sitting on the floor, waiting for me. It’s the oddest library I’ve ever been to. How can anyone look for a book there?”

  Johanna broke out in goose bumps; not just a minor plumping of her hair follicles, but major zit-sized goose mountains. He’s never been inside.

  Her boss warily eyed the tiny elevations on her skin. “Are you all right?”

  She rubbed her arms with an exaggerated motion. “It’s all this rain we’ve been having. It chills me to the core. And standing outside Mr. Morton’s house waiting for a receipt didn’t help. I may be coming down with something.”

  “I’m sure if you work your way through it, you’ll be just fine. Pros play hurt, Johanna. Don’t you forget that.” He shooed her out of his office.

  She knew he would react that way. God forbid anyone might need to take off a day from work; that simply was not allowed. They were given one week of vacation a year, and employees who took sick days received no pay. They were each forced to sign an agreement accepting those conditions before they were hired.

  A week later, her boss again waited until the last minute to ask Johanna to pick up a book and deliver it to the priory in Exeter.

  Why does it have to be Exeter again? Why can’t it be a little closer? At least it wasn’t raining. She left work and steered her way to the library. She thought she’d find it more easily, considering she’d been there before, but if she didn’t know better, she would think it had changed locations. She drove up and down the winding streets for several minutes before she finally found it.

  Inside, the vestibule remained unchanged. She pressed the button, straining to listen for a ringing sound. Again, nothing happened. She thought back to her previous visit and what she had said and done. She remembered punching the bell, but couldn’t remember what she said. She focused on the small brass plaque. What are you seeking?

  She pressed the button a second time and said, “I’m here to pick up a book for the priory.” Nothing happened. She pressed it again. “I’m seeking entrance.” Still nothing.

  “Open sesame.” “Let me in.” “Why are you doing this to me?” “Is this thing broken?” With each request, her voice grew louder and her actions more animated. Disillusioned, she leaned her forehead against the button. “How can you call this a Library of Illumination when no one will illuminate me on how to get in?”

  The wall slid open, revealing the splendor she remembered from the previous week.

  She stepped inside. The little old man was nowhere to be found. She peeked behind the couch. He wasn’t there. Neither was the book the goat had snacked on during her previous visit.

  She perused the titles of books scattered about the area until her eyes came to rest on Little Women. She had first read it at the age of thirteen, and loved the Louisa May Alcott book so much, she often daydreamed about being Jo. She opened it to a random page and read to herself.

  Suddenly, Jo sat before her in a barber chair, arguing with a man over how much he should pay her for her hair. “Twenty-five dollars and not a penny less,” she demanded.

  Johanna watched in amazement as the barber picked up
a strand of Jo’s long, luxurious hair and fingered it. “All right. But don’t let this get around, or you’ll send me to the poorhouse.” He combed her hair back from her face and tied it with a string. Picking up a pair of shears, he cut off her ponytail and gently placed the locks on a counter. He then snipped Jo’s hair shorter and shorter, until he’d littered the floor with her severed tresses.

  “Oh, dear.”

  Johanna slammed the book shut and whirled around to find the little old man staring at the floor. “I ... I ... I came to pick up a book for the priory,” she stammered.

  “I have it right here. But I must ask you to linger a moment and help me out. My lumbago is acting up.” He shuffled across the room and opened a narrow closet hidden in the wall paneling. “In here. There’s a shovel and a broom. Would you please sweep up those hair clippings? I wouldn’t want to slip and fall.”

  Johanna took the broom and shovel and returned to where she had seen Jo getting a haircut. Jo may have vanished, but bits of her hair lay all over the floor.

  A foul odor emanated from the broom as Johanna swept. She wrinkled her nose.

  The little old man apparently noticed. “That broom still stinks, does it? I tried cleaning it, but I guess I didn’t do a good job. I must need new spectacles. But it’s your own fault, you know. Those animals from Noah’s Ark left quite a mess last week, and I believe that was all your doing.”

  Noah’s Ark? Johanna thought about the elephants and other animals. She had been so busy trying to get