Maurice yawned as he made breakfast for himself and his young daughter. He had been up late working and, for once, he hadn't been crafting an invention. Today was Belle's sixth birthday and he had made her something special.
Belle skipped into the kitchen. "Morning Papa."
"Good morning Belle," Maurice replied. "Do you know what day this is?"
Belle bit her lip and squinted her eyes as she thought. Absentmindedly, she tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ear. The ribbon that held her brown locks was tied haphazardly. Maurice sighed, saddened that his daughter didn't have a mother to help raise her.
Belle's brown eyes widened. "It's my birthday!"
"Indeed it is."
"No work?" the girl's voice was hopeful.
Maurice laughed. "No chores for you."
Belle smiled again and climbed onto a chair. Maurice put a plate of food in front of her and she began to eat. Maurice didn't have much money, but he did what he could to make sure his daughter was well cared for, fed, and clothed.
When it was just the two of them tending the house and horse, Belle wore trousers and a short tunic because it was easier for her to move quickly. But she have a few dresses for their ventures into the nearby village. Maurice knew the villagers thought he was strange, staying holed up in his workshop building strange contraptions with the aid of his little daughter, but Maurice paid them no mind. His Belle was smart and he would nurture that intelligence, even if it meant she could take apart a clock to get the proper gears for him to make a winch.
Once Belle was finished eating, Maurice cleared her dish. "Close your eyes and count to one hundred."
Belle closed her eyes obediently and began to count slowly. "Un, deux, trois…"
Maurice slid out the back door, leaving it open, and hurried to his shed. There was a small, wooden bookcase with two shelves that he picked up and carried into the house.
"Keep counting. No peeking."
"Cinquante-trois, cinquante-quatre, cinquante-cinq…"
Maurice shut the kitchen door and carried the shelf to Belle's room. As soon as he had the gift set in the perfect place, he called for Belle.
She came running. "What did you make me?"
"You're first gift is this shelf."
Belle cocked her head. "What shall I put on it?"
"I thought you could start with this." There was a wrapped package on the top of the bookcase; Maurice handed it to her.
Belle unwrapped the package to find a book of fairy tales.
"I thought you could start your own library, now that you're learning to read."
"Thank you, Papa!" Belle threw her arms around her father, hugging him tightly. "I'm going to read it right now."
Belle released him and retrieved an old ragdoll from her bed. There was a rocking chair in the corner, and Belle scuttled up into it and settled the doll in her lap. She opened the book and began to sound out the words: "One… Once up on a tie… time…"
Maurice smiled sadly, his heart aching again. Belle's mother had made her the doll and had sat in that very rocking chair reading to Belle. Belle probably didn't remember those precious moments, she'd been two. But Maurice cherished the memories, even if they were bitter sweet.
"Papa? What's this word?" Belle held up the book.
Maurice came over and scanned the page. "Disguise. 'The prince put on a disguise'."
"Why?"
"Keep reading," Maurice told her.
Belle turned the page and gasped at the picture. It was a beautiful castle on a hill overlooking a village.
"Can we maybe… Could we visit a faraway place someday?"
"Someday," Maurice told her.
"What would it be like? Living in a castle?"
"I don't know, Belle," Maurice replied. "But we can imagine."
Belle smiled and went back to the book. A few minutes later, she looked up. "I want to imagine I'm this girl. She's meeting the Prince, but she doesn't know it's him yet."