20. The Missing Manual
TWENTY
THE MISSING MANUAL
Fossils are nature’s way of sending messages from the distant past into the present.
Whether it’s the imprint of an ancient leaf, the bones of a long-lost creature, or a spiraling shell bridging epochs, each fossil tells a story of life once lived.
Encased in timeless stone, these relics whisper secrets of survival, evolution, and transformation. Their quiet presence offers us glimpses into the very mystery of existence.
–EXCERPT FROM THE MUDPUDDLE MANUAL OF NATURAL MAGIC
Morning light filtered through the trees outside Maida’s window, and the early birds were chittering away.
Waking up in her childhood bedroom felt both strange and familiar. Her sleep had been deep and dreamless, which was just as well. What was the point of dreaming when your waking hours were just as strange as any dream could ever be?
“Morning, Mr. Pants.” Maida stretched.
She’d drifted off with her soft furry toy’s head tucked beneath her chin, the same as when she was a little girl. His antlers cupped the sides of her face and nuzzled cozily behind her ears.
She was far too grown for the comfort of stuffed animals, but she had to admit the soft weight of the buckwheat filled animal against her chest was quite literally heartwarming. Her locket was nestled in the space between, and felt warm to the touch.
After a deliciously hot shower, Maida changed into some of the clothing that Yves had left in a shopping bag beside her door.
She picked out a soft, flowing pair of black palazzo pants and an ivory hand knit cardigan with charming floral embroidered embellishments.
The comfortable items he’d selected were almost exactly what she would have chosen for herself.
There was even a selection of comfortable shoes for her to choose from.
Maida slipped her feet into a tan pair of booties made from sueded fabric.
There was still half an hour before her father was due to arrive home and Maida knew exactly how she was going to use that time. She crossed to her desk to look for a sketchpad and paper. If she closed her eyes, she could still recall Arthur Hart’s face perfectly. The memory was like a snapshot.
Maida pulled open the top drawer. Mints, a lip balm, a tiny tin full of crystals, a raven’s feather, two pens, a hair tie, some hand sanitizer, and some loose change rattled around inside the paper lined drawer.
She tugged at one of the deeper side drawers, certain that she’d left a blank book or two in there, ages ago. The drawer opened a few inches and stuck. Reaching a hand in, she felt the tooled leather of a large, thick book. Someone had wedged the book into the small space.
That was odd. She couldn’t recall leaving behind a book like that. But of course it had been years since she’d used this room, and someone else might have stashed it there. Maida slid her fingers under the book, shifting, repositioning and wiggling it in order to maneuver it out of the drawer.
Finally free, the book slipped right out of her hands and fell onto the floor with the rumbling thunk of a thunderclap. Warily, she bent to examine it. The title was spelled out with intricate gold foil letters.
The Mudpuddle Manual of Natural Magic.
Mudpuddle. There was that name again.
Iridescent embossed butterflies fluttered across the midnight blue leather cover and the paper edges were elegantly decorated with painted vines and flowers. Maida stared at the intriguing book for a moment. Then her curiosity kicked in, and she cracked it open.
The water marbled lining paper was just as exquisite as the cover and painted edges. She ran an appreciative finger over the beautiful patterns before turning the page.
Much to her delight, there was an inscription written in deep purple ink.
To our darling Larkspur on your thirteenth birthday,
We wish to officially, joyfully welcome you into the Primrose Court community.
As you may have already realized, the pursuit of knowledge in the field of Magical Naturalism is a lifelong endeavor.
It would be impossible for one book to hold all the answers, but you can trust this manual to help you ask the right questions.
It is constantly being updated with the latest observations from Magical Naturalists worldwide, and more importantly, it is the perfect place to record your own observations.
We’re so proud of you and how you’ve blossomed into such a promising young witch. We hope you will make your family proud.
All our love,
Mother and Father
Maida felt a lump forming in her throat upon reading these words. It was so bittersweet to read these loving words from the grandparents she had never met to the mother who died giving life to her. She sniffed the ink, which still held a hint of violets and lilac.
Maida flipped through the book. The paper was as fine as dragonfly wings, packed with text and illustrations.
As her hands passed over the margins, hidden notes and information were revealed, developing before her eyes like a palimpsest. She leafed back towards the beginning in search of a table of contents.
Instead, the book fell open to the title page, where there was a simple dedication and note from the publisher.
The publisher’s logo was a small butterfly, and below this, the words Mudpuddle Books, Primrose Court, MA.
The dedication read:
To all those magical beings who gather to draw strength from the abundant earth. Where some see mud, we recognize magic.
Maida searched for a date, but there was none. She closed the book and turned it back over again, realization dawning.
Mudpuddle Books? Was this the same Mudpuddle as the bookstore in Primrose Court? Her Mudpuddle? How strange that she was already thinking of it that way.
Of course! It had to be!
Maida tilted the book back and forth, admiring the way the butterflies appeared to be flapping their wings as she did so.
A firm knock outside her door interrupted her. “Hello? Am I interrupting anything?” She heard her father’s voice in the hall. A second later, an impossibly large man stuck his head in the door.
Maida looked up from her book, so initially happy to see her father that for an instant that she almost forgot she was furious with him. Almost.
She studied his familiar form through a new lens.
The lens of truth. A week ago she hadn’t known what her father was, but she’d felt sure she knew who he was.
Now the opposite was true. She knew what he was, but she no longer felt she knew the famously successful, large and proud man standing before her.
Buffalo Westabrook had no problems measuring up to his name.
Anyone would know at once why pundits and cartoonists represented him with the head of a buffalo. With his thick mane of rusty brown hair, he definitely looked far more like a bison than a Jerome. She had to give him credit for not attempting to hide his nature.
Like the animal he was linked to, Buffalo’s human head was large and powerful.
There was also something about how his massive head sat on his equally oversized shoulders.
When Buffalo was sizing you up, you could not help but feel small.
He had wide-set brown eyes and a broad nose that had a tendency to flare.
The otherworldly intensity of his unblinking gaze was a test for even the most steady souls. What had one of the news magazines said about him? Never bluff a Buffalo.
Even though her father was so formidable looking, it had never occurred to Maida to be afraid of him. Only of disappointing him. That much hadn’t changed.
Reflexively she slid the book under her pillow, only to withdraw it again. She had nothing to hide from her father now.
He was the one who had all the explaining to do.
“I was just reading this field guide.” Maida was unable to keep a hint of defiance from her voice. “It’s called The Mudpuddle Manual of Natural Magic. Are you familiar with it?”
“Yes.” Buffalo nodded. “It’s a classic.”
“That’s all you have to say about it?” Maida arched a brow.
“I’m glad you found your mother’s copy. It was a special edition. She took great care of it, too.”
Buffalo sighed heavily and shook his head. “I couldn’t afford a copy when I was a kid. Probably would have been lost, anyway. We moved around so much.”
“You’ve seen this book before?” Maida asked.
“Of course. It was one of the few things your mother hung on to when she moved in with me.” Buffalo’s eyes were sad.
“Why didn’t you ever show it to me?” Maida ran a hand across the cover. “Didn’t you think I deserved to see it?”
“I wish I could have,” Buffalo said, loosening his tie and unbuttoning the top button of his white shirt.
“Look, Maida, I understand you’re angry with me, and I suppose you have every right to be, but I’d like the chance to explain.
I’ve been cooped up in planes and cars for what feels like days, and frankly, I’m feeling claustrophobic.
Too many walls. Will you take a walk outside in the garden with me? ”
“Okay.” Maida set the book back down on her desk. She’d always loved her father’s lush gardens. It was where she’d developed a love for plants, and where she’d always gone to sit and sketch. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind having a look around the old garden.”
She also knew that this would go far better outdoors. She had so much to say, and so many questions to ask, that she was afraid the house couldn’t contain their conversation.