Belle's POV
Summer passed quietly, much as the spring and winter had before it. It didn't take long since they had moved to the village for Belle to realize that nothing really happened there. Except in Belle's books, of course. There was always something new to discover in the pages of the books she was allowed to borrow, and it was an escape she needed in this humdrum town.
The only interesting thing that happened was Gaston's persistent harassment, but if that's what it took to have some variation in this town, Belle would rather have died of boredom. It seemed that nothing she did was enough to keep him from pursuing her, and his attentions deterred any other half-decent men from seeking her company. She didn't want any men seeking her affections, but there had to be a better way to court a girl that what Gaston was doing. Not that she had ever been courted before to know how it should be. The only one who had ever asked her was Gustave, and she had left the city before he could get the chance.
At least Gaston's attentions had one positive side; it reaffirmed Belle's wish not to marry until she had the adventures she dreamed of. And so long as Gaston was so crudely pursuing her, Papa's wish that she not settle for anything less than love was in no danger.
Meanwhile, Belle turned eighteen and the hot summer months eased into the cool days of fall. Preparation began for the cold winter months although the days were still warm, just like the year before, and just as the year afterwards would be.
One crisp fall day, Belle decided to take a break from her work of preserving food for the winter and exchange her book for a new one. She had worked through many of the books at the bookshop by this time and was waiting for a new shipment to explore. Usually only five or six books came at a time, but it was better than having nothing.
Belle left the house, the echoes Papa's work in the cellar fading away as she neared the bridge. It was a beautiful day, with a bluer sky than any humdrum town had any right to. Belle enjoyed being in the country with its clear skies, clean water, and the peacefulness of it. But it was a dull and provincial way of life for someone who dreamed of so much. The village was a comfortable place to live and she was grateful for it, but she wanted more.
Belle walked through the village, watching the people go about their business as they had every day. The town was busy with people buying and selling and Belle spotted the baker with his tray of rolls to sell to the shoppers in town. As he returned to his bakery to refill his tray, Belle stopped by to say hello. He was one of the few people in town who was actually kind to her; he was one of the first people to welcome her to the village after all, and it seems he had at least the courtesy to acknowledge her presence.
"Good morning, Belle!" he called when he saw her approach, his warm booming voice clearly audible above the chatter of the crowds in town.
"Good morning, Monsieur," she replied merrily, going over to chat.
"Where are you off to today, then?" he asked as he waited for his wife to deliver the rolls for him.
"The bookshop. I just finished the most wonderful story about a beanstalk and an ogre," she began, but the baker was apparently impatient for his bread.
"That's nice," he said distractedly, interrupting her. "Marie, the baguettes! Hurry up, woman!"
"I'm coming, you cross old man. Keep your trousers on!" Marie called from inside. Belle shrugged and replaced the book she was showing the baker back in her basket. He was obviously busy, and no one wanted to hear about her stories anyway, not even the kind baker.
She continued her way through town, her thoughts on the book she had just finished. It was a familiar tale of a boy who sold some magic beans and ended up battling an ogre. What she wouldn't give for some magic beans right now. She would climb that beanstalk in a second, even knowing an horrible ogre awaited her at the top. The people who went about their business around her surely never imagined such things, never mind wished for them. Belle grinned as she pictured in her mind their simple, shocked faces as the ogre from her book stomped its way through town. There must be more than this provincial life, she thought to herself, coming out of her daydreams to enter the bookshop at last.
The familiar tinkling bell at the door greeted her and alerted the bookseller of her arrival.
"Ah, Belle, there you are my dear. I was wondering if you'd come again today," he said as he replaced a book on one of the shelves and came over to her.
"Good morning, sir. I've come to return the book I borrowed," she said, handing the volume to him and immediately searching the shelves for another.
"Finished already, eh?"
"I couldn't put it down," she replied. "Have you got anything new?"
"Not since yesterday," he said and she distinctly heard the chuckle in his voice.
"That's all right," she said, climbing the short ladder that made the top shelves of the biggest bookcase more accessible. "I'll borrow this one." She handed him a book bound in blue cloth so he might make note of the title.
"That one? But you've read it twice already!" he protested.
"Oh, but it's my favorite!" she couldn't help but exclaim. "Far off places, daring swordfights, magic spells, a prince in disguise!" she rattled off, rolling along the bookcase on the ladder, carried away at the very idea of rereading the story.
"Well, if you like it all that much, it's yours," the bookkeeper said, handing her the book as she descended the ladder.
"But, sir—" she protested. He had never given her one of his books before. She had earned the right to borrow them from him, but never had he given any inclination that she might actually get to keep one of them.
"I insist," he said, putting a hand up to stop her protests. "I'd like to see it go to a good home. Besides, the binding's getting loose from someone always borrowing it," he teased. Belle smiled widely, excited at the prospect of her first new book to own since in years.
"Well, thank you! Thank you very much!" she exclaimed as the bookkeeper ushered her out of the store. She couldn't help but start reading the book as she walked, eager to dive into the story she loved so much. Belle knew the town by heart now, so she was able to easily navigate the streets as she read. It wasn't long before she reached a particularly engrossing part of the story though, and had to take a seat on the fountain in the town square.
"Oh, isn't this amazing?" she exclaimed to the only ones who would pay her any mind: the sheep that were being driven through town. "It's my favorite part! Look, here's where she meets Prince Charming," she said, tilting the book so the sheep beside her might see the words. In her mind's eye she could only see the scene painted out for her, a young girl shyly hiding from a young man in a beautiful field, a castle rising in the background. "But she won't discover that it's him till chapter three!" she exclaimed and ruffled through the pages to reach the spot she spoke about, eager to read the second interaction of the lovers. Barely she was aware that the sheep were driven away and she knew she should complete the shopping that needed to be done and head back towards her house to continue her work. But that wouldn't stop her from making her way through her book.
She took her nose out of the book a few times to complete her transactions and once to speak briefly with Sophia. Neither of them had spoken much since Gaston had his say about their meeting together, but both still made sure to stay civil with each other.
"At it again, are you?" Sophia asked as Belle approached her house.
"Always," she said with a smile and put down her basket to talk. "How have you been?"
"Just fine. The children are growing so fast," Sophia replied, clearly frazzled by her household but Belle could see she was obviously very much in love with it.
"I can imagine," Belle replied, unsure of how to respond to that. "Make sure to tell them I said hello."
"I will. You best be on your way now," Sophia bent to retrieve Belle's basket for her. "I'm sure your father will be hungry for lunch."
"Thank you," she said as she took the basket and continued on her way. Their conversations were always short and strained; their work together had not been enough to make friends out of them, and Gaston's annoying insistence that Belle stay away ensured that things between she and Sophia had become awkward.
She made her way through the last of the crowds in the village and another chapter of her book. It surprised her that she was able to go through the village without running into Gaston, but she was grateful for the break.
"Bonjour, Belle." Belle nearly groaned. She was so close to her house, so close to avoiding another interaction with him.
"Bonjour, Gaston," she replied as cheerfully as possible, keeping her eyes on her book. Until he snatched it out of her hands, at least. "Gaston, may I have my book, please?" she said, trying to keep her temper.
"How can you read this?" he sneered, thumbing through the pages and tilting the book as if trying to make sense of it. "There's no pictures." Belle suppressed the urge to snatch her book back and merely crossed her arms, amazed as always at Gaston's disgust when it came to her books.
"Well, some people use their imaginations," she replied and reached back for her book.
"Belle, you've been here two whole years now. It's about time you get your head out of these books and start paying attention to more important things," he said, tossing her book aside. Belle flinched as it landed in a mud puddle and went to retrieve it, but Gaston moved to stand in her way to strike what she supposed was to be an impressive pose.
"Hint, hint," Lefou, never far from Gaston's side, said to her, pointing up at him. Apparently she was meant to finish Gaston's thought.
"Like you?" she said flatly after a moment.
"Exactly!" Gaston exclaimed with a disgusting grin. "The whole town's talking about it. It's not right for a woman to read. Soon she starts getting ideas and. . . thinking!"
"Gaston, you are positively primeval," she said as she retrieved her book from the mud. Using a corner of her apron, she wiped off the worst of the mud. Her brand new book and it was already a mess. At least it wasn't one she had to worry about returning to the bookseller.
"Why, thank you Belle," Gaston replied and Belle felt her eyes widen in shock. Gaston's ignorance never ceased to amaze her. Gaston's heavy arm fell across her shoulders and he began to lead her back to town. "What do you say we take a walk over to the tavern and take a look at my trophies?"
"Maybe some other time," she said, wishing she could slip out of Gaston's grasp.
"Come on, Belle. I think I know how you feel about me."
"You can't even imagine," she replied, hearing the disgust leak through in her voice but apparently Gaston was deaf to it. "Please, Gaston," she said and managed to duck out from under his arm. "I have to get home to help my father." She turned and began to walk back to her house, glad to have escaped.
"That crazy old fool!" Lefou exclaimed as she left. "He needs all the help he can get!" Belle whirled around to face Lefou, furious at his words.
"Don't talk about my father that way!" she demanded hotly. She knew people said things about her father, but not to her face like that.
"Yeah, don't talk about her father that way!" Gaston said, thunking Lefou on the head as he spoke. His words would have been admirable, if it weren't for the fact he was laughing right along with Lefou a moment before.
"My father's not crazy! He's a genius! And you—"
An explosion stopped Belle's angry words and Belle whirled back to face her house. From the cellar doors billowed clouds of smoke; Papa caused explosions before, but nothing was ever that big.
"Papa!" she cried and left Lefou and Gaston laughing back on the road. She reached the cellar doors quickly and yanked them open, immediately met with a face full of smoke. She coughed and waved the smoke away before descending into the cellar.
"Papa?" she called. As the smoke escaped through the open doors, she could see Papa brushing off some bits of rubble from his clothes. "Are you all right, Papa?" she asked, reaching up to brush rubble from his snow white hair.
"I'm fine, but I can't for the life of me figure out what happened. This is the stubbornness bit of. . ." Papa kicked his machine, howled in pain, and spent several moments hopping on one foot. "I'm about to give up on this hunk of junk!" he said when he stopped hopping.
"You always say that," Belle said with a giggle. Every machine she can remember her father working on, she can vividly recall him declaring that same exact phrase.
"I mean it this time! I'll never get this bone-headed contraption to work!"
"Yes, you will," she assured him, coming behind him and putting her hands on his shoulders. "And you'll win first prize at the fair tomorrow!"
"Hmph!" her Papa grunted.
"And become a world famous inventor," she continued, bending down to be level with his ear.
"You really believe that?"
"I always have, Papa," she said and kissed his cheek. He visibly cheered up at her words.
"What are we waiting for? This thing's not going to fix itself. Hand me that dog-legged clencher," he asked as he climbed back down under his machine. Belle handed him what he asked for.
"Did you have a good time in town today?" he asked, his voice muffled from under the machine.
"I got a new book," she said, plucking the artifact from her basket and hugging it to her chest as she spoke.
"You do love those books," Papa said and she could hear the smile in his voice. Gaston's words of just a few minutes ago came back to her as she looked fondly at her book. Was he right? Should she start looking at something else besides her beloved books? She had no desire to, but if the whole town thought she was so odd, perhaps it was time for a change.
"Papa?" she asked as she listened to him work, knowing he wouldn't lie to her. "Do you think I'm odd?"
"My daughter, odd?" he demanded indignantly, emerging from underneath the machine with her favorite pair of magnified glasses on. "Where'd you get an idea like that?" he continued, the practical accessories attached to the glasses bouncing as he spoke.
"Oh, I don't know," she sighed, the amusement she felt at his magnified glasses gone as she returned to her problems. "There's no one I can really talk to."
"What about that Gaston?" Papa asked as he crawled back under the machine. "He's a handsome fellow."
"He's handsome all right. And rude, and conceited. . ." she trailed off, exasperated and sat on the cool stone of the hearth, resting her chin in her hand. "Oh, Papa, he's not for me. Besides, I can't talk to him. There's no one here I can really talk to. They talk about me, not to me."
"They talk about me, too," her father said, emerging yet again from under the machine to sit beside her, wiping his hands on a rag.
"I know, Papa," she said. She hated that the townspeople called her father crazy, a loon. Couldn't they see how brilliant he was?
"You're not odd, my Belle. You are unique, a cut above these boring ol' peasants," he said with a dismissing wave towards the town.
"Papa," she protested but couldn't help the smile that grew along her lips.
"It's true! No matter what they say, you are your mother's daughter so therefore you are class."
"Thank you, Papa," she replied, caught off-guard at the mention of her mother. Papa rarely talked about her, something Belle attributed to how much he had loved her, and how painful it must be for him to bring her up. "Maman would be so proud of you. I know I am. And I don't mean to seem ungrateful to be here, it just gets so lonely sometimes," she confessed.
"Well, don't you worry," he said, gently brushing her cheek with his fingers with a knowing smile. "We come this far already. And I've got a feeling this invention's going to be the start of a new life for us." Belle smiled as Papa went to make a few adjustments on his machine. Nothing could keep him down for long. And maybe he was right, perhaps this invention of his would open up a new path for them.
"Now, I think that's done it," he declared several minutes later. "Let's give it a try." Papa pulled a lever and the machine whirred into life, steam rising through coils, turning gears and making her old teapot atop the machine sing. The axe at the front of the machine fell once and rose, fell a second time and rose, and then continued chopping with ease. The log placed underneath the blade was split into two and the halves were launched into the air to fall neatly onto the waiting stack of logs.
"It works!" she exclaimed, almost disbelieving. Papa had spent such a long time on this machine, with so many set backs. Belle was not sure Papa would be able to finish it in time for the fair.
"It does?" he said, his own doubt clear in his voice. But as another log flew over their heads, his face brightened. "It does!"
"You did it! You really did it!" she cheered, embracing her father, barely able to contain her joy.
"Hitch up Philippe, girl! I'm off to the fair!" he declared just as a flying log struck him in the head.
"All right Papa. Get the ramp ready and we'll get you ready to go!" Belle left to get Philippe prepared for his journey, hitching the bridle and saddle on. She then put the harness on that would hold the flat wagon for her father's invention. It took them awhile to push the machine up the ramp Papa put over the steps, and Belle was sweaty and sore by the time the heavy machine was on the wagon despite the contraption's wheels. But once it was there and secured, Papa was ready to head off to the fair. There was only a few hours of daylight left, but Papa needed to get started if he was to make it in time for the contest.
"Good bye, Papa!" she called as he rode off. "Good luck!"
"Good bye, Belle!" he called back, turning in the saddle to wave at her. "Take care while I'm gone!"
Belle watched until she could no longer see him beyond the hill that bent the road. She tried to think that Papa would win the contest and take them away from this provincial town, but Belle had gotten her hopes up before. She knew Papa's machine was genius, but the odds of it being good enough to open up the road to Belle's adventures for her was unlikely. So she only hoped for Papa's safe return as she turned back inside to continue her work from that morning.