Rebecca Smythe: Witch in Training || ONC 2021

Becky the Neighbor

Saturday dawned cold and rainy and Rebecca woke to an orchestra of croaks. Looking around her room she spotted about a dozen frogs hopping about on the floor. The doors leading to the garden were ajar and the smell of rain on fallen leaves drifted in. The twins had been at it again. So far, Rebecca had endured multiple encounters with Kyle the unicorn, a number of heavily salted breakfast teas, and now the boys had let an army of amphibians into her room while she was sleeping. She had to admit, the pranks were wearing on her. Unlike the children's other governesses, however, she had no other options and she would simply have to continue to endure.

"Will you be visiting Melinda today?" Caldwell asked over breakfast. It was just the two of them at the table which, though Caldwell had been much kinder to her since the newspaper drop, made Rebecca anxious. He looked well rested this morning and his jet black hair fell playfully into his eyes. "Abigail typically takes the children into town on Saturdays so you will not be expected to work." Caldwell was spreading a generous portion of butter over thick slices of wheat toast. The smooth curve of his nails perfectly highlighted the tips of his calloused fingers.

Rebecca retrieved a piece of paper from the sleeve of her dress and considered her options. Though she wasn't particularly eager to spend the day with the ever bubbly Melinda, she didn't have any alternative Saturday plans.

"Perhaps," said Rebecca. She slid the piece of paper across the table towards Caldwell. It was the word of the day. Over the past week, she had selected important-looking words from the first page of the file she had stolen from Alston's office and Caldwell had walked her through sounding them out. So far she had the following:

Andromeda M. Jones

Charge:

"You should go. You said you would and she is probably expecting you." Rebecca felt a wave of resentment wash over her. Why did he care what she did? "I'll be continuing to sprout the orchard. Hopefully, we will get some sun," Caldwell continued. He stared out the window into the gloomy yard beyond.

"What is today's word?" asked Rebecca impatiently. She was in no mood to remark on the weather. A knot of anxiety had been forming in her stomach all week. Every word she discovered from the file furthered her fear that she had grabbed the wrong one.

"Are you visiting, Melinda?" Caldwell asked, helping himself to another slice of toast.

"I don't see how the two are related," said Rebecca. She felt a surge of emotion that left a bitter taste in her mouth. Why was Caldwell so concerned with how Melinda would feel if Rebecca decided not to visit on this, the dreariest of all Saturdays? Didn't he have his hands full helping Mrs. Plimpton break her marriage vows?

"Well, I agreed to help you learn to read and you agreed to bring Melinda your quiche recipe." Caldwell punctuated his point by taking a massive bite of toast. "The question remains if we will keep our promises."

"And what do you know about promises?" Rebecca snapped.

"What do you mean by that?" Caldwell's eyes were suddenly stormy.

"Fine. I will go to Melinda's," said Rebecca, not wanting to test her luck any further. She still felt the swell of emotion- sort of like a distant cousin of anger- alive inside her chest.

"The word is poison," said Caldwell glancing down at the piece of paper before him. His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "P is the looped one here, I has the little dot over it, and in this case the S is drawn out into more of a Z sound." He gestured to the letters as he went.

"Rebecca," Caldwell paused, "what exactly are you having me read for you?"

"I don't see why that matters," Rebecca said. "I don't know what your newspapers say and yet I deliver them. You keep my secrets and I keep yours. After all, we are people who keep our promises."