1Bewitched ~ That's the Power of Love
by Dash O'Pepper
Author's Notes: Loosely based on the eighth season episode "Adam, Warlock or Washout?" (#8.14) by Ed Jurist and Sol Saks.
• Like many children in 1960s/'70s sitcoms, Tabitha and Adam were often shuttled off to Not-Important-to-the-Episode Camp, unless their presence contributed to the plot in some way. Adam experienced this journey far more often than his older sister, since his birth was precipitated by the arrival of The Other Darrin. "Adam, Warlock or Washout?" was the only episode of the series (short of his birth) to specifically focus on him, and even then, what three-year-old—warlock or mortal—could compete with the dominating presence of Maurice? Since Adam had so little screen time and the series was cancelled soon after the episode aired, I never felt that it satisfactorily answered its own question: did Maurice help a mortal Adam win the evaluating committee's approval, or was Adam a late-to-develop warlock? This is my attempt to pick up where that episode left off.
• This story is set in 1974; two years after Bewitched was cancelled.
• Verbiage is consistent for the time period.
• This story may also be found on AO3.
Anyone glancing in the window of the smart suburban home at 1164 Morning Glory Circle, Westport, Connecticut, would have noticed nothing amiss.
Seated on the living room sofa was a woman of indeterminate age, reading a magazine. Her auburn hair fixed in a smart and stylish updo that accented her exotic features and complemented the tailored multicoloured paisley-patterned Givenchy suit she wore.
The other occupant of the room was a five-year-old boy, dressed in corduroy slacks and a lightweight red sweater, who was sprawled on the carpeted floor hard at work trying to keep his crayon inside the lines of the colouring book he was fixated on.
The boy put down his crayon, and smiled at his latest masterpiece, ready to exhibit it to his audience of one. Standing up, he picked up the book and said, "Grandmama, do you like it?"
Putting her magazine aside, the woman took the proffered artistry to examine it. The circus lion was in bright purple with a mane of orange-red; its eyes coloured neon green; and the base it was poised upon in differing shades of blue. But every crayon stroke had remained inside the lines.
"It's a masterpiece, Adam." She beamed at her grandson. "Your mummy and…" she paused for a fraction of a second, "daddy will certainly want to display this in a place of honour."
Looking about him to make certain no one else was about, Adam asked, "Would you…?"
She smiled and nodded. "It'll be our secret." With a wave of her hand, the page disappeared from the colouring book and was now inside a simple black frame.
She handed it to him.
"Thank you."
"My pleasure, darling."
"Did you really like it?" he asked again, his voice wavering.
"Of course. Grandmama would never lie to you."
Adam handed it back to her. "I really drew it for you."
"For me?" she asked, somewhat surprised and touched by the gesture. "Not for your parents or sister?"
He shook his head. "I love you, and wanted it to be perfect just for you…" his voice trailed off, and in a faint whisper added, "because I'm not."
Her hearing was sharp, and she swept him into her embrace. "Whatever do you mean? You are perfect, and Grandmama wouldn't have you any other way."
His little face paled, and he gave her a wan smile. "I'm-I'm not magical."
Her heart skipped a beat; he had reached an age where he had begun to comprehend certain concepts and the inherent differences among the adults within his family. She sat him beside her, and stared into dark eyes that were rheumy with unshed tears.
Taking his little hands in hers, she began: "I want you to listen to me carefully, Adam Stephens. Your Grandmama loves you. Your Aunties Serena, Clara, Enchantra, Hagatha all love you. Your Uncle Arthur loves you. Your Cousin Edgar loves you. It doesn't matter to us whether you're warlock or mortal: our entire family loves you."
There was one name conspicuously absent from her list, and Adam picked up on it. "Grandfather doesn't. He's 'shamed of me."
She squeezed his hands. "No. No, dear. Your Grandfather Maurice loves you, too."
"No," he whispered, "he just pretends."
*.*.*.*.*
She could have used a simple enchantment to place her grandson into a deep and peaceful slumber, and forget the conversation they'd had. Instead, she decided to allow him to nap naturally. Erasing his memory of their discussion wouldn't have made the problem disappear; it would have only postponed the inevitable.
Adam had wounded her deeply by doubting her love for him, but could she blame him? The boy was no doubt aware of her animosity towards his father and disdain for mortals in general. Why wouldn't he think those feelings extended to him as well?
So, after assuring that Adam was soundly asleep, she returned to the living room.
"Maurice," she called into the ether. "I want you here this minute."
With a brilliant flash of light, the roar of trumpets and a plume of dark smoke, a man materialised in the living room. He was dressed in a dapper grey morning suit, with a top hat and a cloak affixed about his neck, and holding a gold-handled ebony walking stick.
"Do you always have to make every entrance a performance?"
"My dear, Endora." He doffed his top hat and made a slight bow. "It is a delight, as always, to see you as well."
He turned once, scanning the room. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"We," she emphasised the word, "have a crisis."
Maurice's face grew stern. "Has Dustbin hurt our daughter or Tabitha?"
Endora noted that the warlock made no mention of his grandson. No wonder Adam thinks as he does.
"Samantha and Donald are well. They're presently in the Orient⁽¹⁾ for something to do with that advertising agency he works at; Tabitha's at school," she glanced at the dainty gold link watch on her wrist, "but will be home soon."
"Good." He smiled. "She's so much like her mother was at that age. I feel like I'm reliving my youth when I see her."
Endora folded her arms across her chest. "You didn't ask about your Grandson."
"Oh, yes, Adam." He tugged at his earlobe. "A fine, strapping young lad. How is he?" he asked with feigned interest.
"Upstairs in his room having his afternoon nap," she began, "after crying himself to sleep."
"What?" he asked, alarmed.
"Adam knows what he isn't. He also knows that you don't love him because of it," Endora hissed.
Maurice turned on her: "What have you been telling the boy?"
"Nothing. He's bright enough to understand it on his own. And in his own words he knows that you're ashamed of him."
The bombastic warlock spluttered, "Endora, I give you my solemn promise—warlock's honour—" He raised his right hand, placing his middle and index finger on each side of his nose, "that I have done nothing in word or deed to cause Adam to question my feelings towards him."
"Indifference can cut a far deeper wound in a child's psyche than any cruel word," she replied. "And no matter how much we may try to shield them, children always know the truth."
Maurice's face paled, and his voice was hoarse when he replied, "I…" he started, then hesitated. "May I sit down?"
She nodded, then sat down in the chair opposite the sofa he was now seated upon.
"I-I need a drink." A small brandy glass materialised in his hand. "What do you want me to do?"
Endora rolled her eyes, frustrated that such a powerful and respected warlock could be so dense when it came to the obvious. "You're going to assure that little boy knows that you love him, and you're going to do it sans witchcraft."
"Of course, I love him," Maurice was indignant that she or his grandson would think otherwise. "I don't need to put a spell on the boy to prove that."
"Then, pray, tell me what you intend to do?" Though the words were spoken like honey, the warlock noted the acid on Endora's tongue.
"I'll…uh…we'll…no…"
"You haven't the vaguest idea what to do, have you?"
He took a quick sip from his glass before answering: "Alas, no."
"You're going to spend the weekend with Adam. You're going to get to know your Grandson, and you're going to make him feel that he is the most special and loved grandchild in the universe."
"Won't my taking Adam for an entire weekend upset Dobbin…and Samantha?"
Endora folded her hands in her lap. "In this case, I don't think…" she paused, gathering her will to utter a word that rarely came easily to her, "Darrin will object. And you'll use his father's correct name when speaking of him."
"Why? You certainly never do."
"I am around both Adam and Tabitha often enough for them to accept that it's polite bickering between us, and that nothing hurtful is intended by it," she said calmly. "You? You make your presence known when it's convenient for you. From you, he would see it as the insult it's intended as."
"All right." He took another sip of brandy. "What do young mortal boys do with their mortal grandfathers? Obviously, I can't take him to the Continuum⁽²⁾." He was speaking of the Cosmic Continuum: the realm in which those of the blood of Adam and Lilith had taken refuge when mortals had turned on their magical kinsmen.⁽³⁾
Endora mused. "If I recall, his Grandfather Frank has taken him to see the Mets—"
"The Met?" Maurice's voice was pleasantly surprised. "I didn't know the lad enjoyed the opera. Our weekend will certainly be off to a rollicking start—"
She interrupted: "Not the Metropolitan. The Mets. They're a baseball team in Flushing, Queens."
The warlock's face fell. "Flushing? Sounds like an apropos location for a mortal sport."
Endora ignored the sarcasm, and continued, "They've also been to Rye Beach."
From his puzzled expression, she quickly added, "It's some type of amusement park."
Maurice grimaced in distaste.
"And the Bronx Zoo."
He brightened. "Capital! The zoo indeed," he harrumphed. "We can go on an African safari: something, which I'm sure Frank never did with the lad. It would be both entertaining and educational."
She nodded. "Just as long as you convince him that you do love him."
"Endora, while I may not be the most demonstrative of grandfathers—warlock or mortal—I most assuredly do care deeply about him."
She shook her head, wondering if perhaps she had erred in calling her estranged husband: But do you love him?
*.*.*.*.*
The pair had been in quiet conversation for over a half-hour, discussing and finalising plans for Adam's sojourn with his grandfather.
So engrossed were they that they failed to hear the sound of the school bus pulling up outside, and didn't notice the arrival of their granddaughter until the front door swung open, and a blonde-haired young girl of eight came bounding through it yelling, "Grandma! Grandma!"
Almost as one, they turned at the sound of her voice, and exclaimed, "Tabitha!"
She halted at the entranceway, surprised by the unexpected visit from her grandfather.
Maurice stood. "My, what a young lady you've blossomed into."
"Grandpa?" She ran to him; then stopped: "What are you doing here? Is everything okay?"
"Of course, everything is quite well, my dear," said Maurice.
"Your Grandfather just decided to pay us a visit," added Endora.
The warlock extended his arms toward the girl, and she ran towards his embrace.
"How was your day at school, dear?"
"It was neat. I met a new boy at school, and he looks just like Tony DeFranco⁽⁴⁾!"
The adults exchanged puzzled glances, not recognising the reference, but assuming that the boy must have been handsome enough to attract the girl's attention.
"I always told you," Maurice said to Endora, "that Tabitha would be a heartbreaker." He looked down at the eight-year-old, cupping her chin in his hand, "I just didn't expect it to be quite this soon."
"You must tell me all about this boy, child," said Endora.
She plopped herself on the sofa, and began describing her latest crush: "He's got brown hair and these soulful brown eyes—and he even sings!" She hugged herself. "We met at assembly today."
Looking about her, she asked: "Where's Adam?"
As if in response to her question, a door upstairs could be heard slamming closed and a squeal of delight in the word, "Tabitha!", as Adam came bounding down the stairs to greet his big sister.
The boy stopped on the landing overlooking the living room when he saw Maurice standing there. "Grandfather," he whispered.
For the first time, Maurice noticed the look of terror that passed across Adam's face when he saw him. The boy quickly hid his expression behind a weak smile.
"Adam, my dear lad, come here, and give your favourite Grandfather a great big hug."
In less than the blink of an eye, Adam had disappeared from the landing and materialised in Maurice's arms.
"Aren't you a strapping young man!" said Maurice.
Endora nudged him in the ribs, and whispered, "Stop overacting!"
"Wh-what are you doing here?" he stammered.
"Why I came to see you and Tabitha, of course."
"Oh."
A one syllable word of two letters did more to convey to Maurice Adam's feelings than the hour-and-a-half that he and Endora had been discussing the boy. He gently put down his grandson.
"I also asked your Grandmother's permission to take you on a trip this weekend."
"Ooooh," said Tabitha excitedly, "where are we going?"
He smiled indulgently at her. "This is going to be a boys-only weekend. Adam and I will have a real man's weekend, while you and your Grandmother will have a girl's weekend. Won't that be fun?"
"Where are we going?" Adam asked.
"Wherever you want."
"The zoo?"
"The zoo," Maurice dismissed such a mundane suggestion. "What about a real African safari? You'll see the animals up close and without anything separating you."
"We-we don't have to kill them, do we?" Adam only knew of safaris from television and films. "I don't want to kill 'dangered animals."
"Of course not. We're not barbarians."
Adam looked from his grandmother to his sister, hoping that either one would make the decision for him.
Tabitha noticed her brother's hesitancy over going off with their grandfather. She smiled slightly at him and nodded imperceptibly that everything would be all right if he went.
"Okay." Adam answered.
"Splendid, my boy. We'll leave as soon as we change into something more appropriate for the trip."
Adam and Maurice were now in matching khaki-coloured safari costumes, complete with pith helmets.
The warlock clasped his grandson's hand.
"Don't worry about us, Endora, we'll return in a few days." And in a puff of smoke both had vanished.
Tabitha looked at her grandmother and said: "I hope Grandpa can convince Adam that he cares."
"You-you know?" Endora was dumbfounded by this revelation.
"Grandma," she was exasperated, "do you know how hard it is to keep anything a secret in this house?"
*.*.*.*.*
The grey sky and fog seemed an ominous reflection of the disaster that were the last two days. While Adam had appeared to enjoy the safari, the boy was disheartened to learn that so many of the animals they were seeing might soon be extinct due to mortal overhunting, environmental factors, as well as the ebb and tide of the circle of life. That he was mortal only added to his belief that he was a failure in his grandfather's eyes.
Trying to salvage the weekend, Maurice had taken the boy to Rotterdam to see the tulips in bloom; Paris to visit the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre; even to the top of Mount Everest—making Adam the youngest mortal to reach the summit—yet, nothing he did could break through the wall that separated them.
They'd returned to London, where he maintained a Mayfair flat for those few times when he desired being among mortals (which was now mostly to attend the Royal Shakespeare Festival). In desperation, he'd taken Adam to the London Zoo.
A slight incantation and the skies would be blue overhead, but it would do little, he knew, to alter his grandson's sombre mood.
What am I doing wrong? he wondered not for the first time this weekend, as he watched Adam gazing at the lions in their habitat.
He sensed the presences materialise nearby, and turned in their direction.
Coming through the fog was a man who in appearance looked to be about Darwin's age, wearing a grey suit, and a woman, a few years older than Samantha, wearing a too tight mini skirt and a lamb's wool jacket.
"What are you doing here?" It was not an interrogative, but a demand.
"The Wicked Witch of the West sent us," answered the man.
The dark-haired woman nodded. "Endora knows that 'doting grandpa' isn't your scene, and thought it best for all if we take Adam back with us."
"No one's taking my Grandson from me," roared Maurice far louder than he intended, because Adam turned from studying the lions to look at the commotion.
"Uncle Arthur! Auntie 'Rena!" he squealed in delight, running toward the pair.
Arthur squatted to be at eye-level with his nephew, as he caught the boy in a warm embrace. "How're you doing, Tiger?"
"Grandfather took me on a safari, and to Paris, and even to the top of Mount Everest," he said.
"Sounds like fun." Arthur rolled his eyes. "I'll bet he didn't show you a unicorn, though."
"A unicorn?" Adam's eyes widened.
Arthur reached into his suit jacket's inside pocket and removed three balloons, which he quickly inflated and twisted into the shape of a unicorn, handing it to his nephew.
"Wow!" said Adam in awe.
Maurice snorted in derision. Arthur had done little more than a busker's trick. There was certainly a bit of real magic imbued in the balloons: the rubber had been strengthened so as to never pop or lose air, and the horn on the "unicorn" could never have been made by any mortal means. But it was, at best, a stage magician's illusion made solid.
Not to be outdone, Serena reached behind herself to present a simple sugar cone filled with a single scoop of strawberry ice cream. Again, there was very little real magic to the sweet: it contained luscious strawberries that wouldn't be found in any mortal confection, and the ice cream would maintain a comfortable temperature for a young boy's palate without fear that it would melt before he was through eating it.
Adam's eyes sparkled, as Serena handed him the cone.
With no effort, he could have conjured a real unicorn and a delectable ice cream that with each lick brought forth a tantalising new flavour. But, neither had occurred to him.
Worse, thought Maurice, their gifts were freely given, with no expectation of anything in return. To a young boy, desperate for approval from his magical relatives, those gifts held far greater value than anything he'd done, because they were given honestly and with love.
"Adam."
"Yes, Grandfather."
"I want you to concentrate very hard and make a wish." Maurice stared haughtily at his brother-in-law and neice⁽⁵⁾.
Adam closed his eyes, and scrunched his face in concentration.
While rarely used in polite society, witches and warlocks were natural telepaths. The ability usually manifested after puberty, but by that time, most children were skilled enough with wards and spells to block adults from reading their thoughts. The power was primarily used by parents on their young children as a disciplinary measure, to guarantee that an unskilled child hadn't caused any mischief. And since mortal minds were such a jumble of random, disjointed thoughts, few wanted to deal with the literal migraine that accompanied reading their minds. So, barely a handful had any real skill at using their talent; Maurice was one of the few who did.⁽⁶⁾ He'd take Adam's fondest wish and make it reality.
He was taken aback by Adam's wish: it wasn't for himself, but for him. The boy wanted him to forget he ever existed so that he would no longer be unhappy.
My stars, Adam, what have I done to you? he thought.
Arthur and Serena were startled by the expression on Maurice's face. Except for learning of Samantha's marriage to a mortal, they'd never known anything to shake the renowned warlock to his core. Yet, whatever the wish was, it certainly had.
Recovering his composure, Maurice squeezed Adam's shoulders. "It's all right, lad. You can open your eyes now."
"Did I do it right, Grandfather?" He looked expectantly at the older man.
Maurice's voice cracked with his reply: "Yes, Adam, you did very well."
Regaining his composure, he turned to Serena, "Would you take Adam to see the zebras? Arthur and I need to talk."
She nodded solemnly; then smiled at her nephew: "C'mon, handsome, you and I have a date."
Taking his hand in hers, they walked away. They could still hear her chatting away at Adam, Have you ever seen a purple-striped zebra? The Mirror said there was one here today, especially for you… before being swallowed by the fog.
"Arthur, do you know what Adam wished for?"
"Was it bigger than a breadbox?"
Maurice glared at his brother-in-law: even in the gravest circumstances, Arthur couldn't control his japes.
The younger warlock composed himself; this was no time for levity. "What did he wish for?"
"He wants me to erase his existence from my memory! He-he thinks that would please me. My own Grandson doesn't…" Maurice stumbled on the words, struggling to find some quote from Shakespeare or Shaw that would fill the gap for the raw emotions he couldn't express. His shoulders slumped in despair, and he bowed his head, not wanting Arthur to see the tears welling in his eyes. "How can I possibly reach through that?"
"Do you really love him?"
"With all my heart and soul, yes," he wailed.
"Tell him!"
"Don't you think I've tried over these last two days? The closer I attempt to get to him, the more distant he becomes. You and Serena have had no trouble winning his affection, though."
Arthur knew he was dealing with one of the most powerful warlocks in the Continuum; so, he chose his words with care: "Maurice, love isn't a contest to be won or lost, and Adam isn't a prize."
He took a deep breath before continuing, "Adam said that you took him on safari. Was that his idea or yours?"
"He wanted to go to the Bronx Zoo—"
"Then, why didn't you take him to the damned zoo?"
"When I could put the whole African savanna at his feet, why would I take him to something so banal as a zoo?"
Arthur groaned. So little was beyond the scope of the older warlock that it was impossible for Maurice to conceive the reason why he couldn't reach a five-year-old boy.
He decided to approach the issue another way.
"You know," he began, "sometimes I think we made a terrible mistake by abandoning Terra for the Cosmic Continuum." Arthur leaned against the railing of one of the exhibits.
"You were far too young to remember those dark times."
"Stop parroting the party line," he snapped. "No witch or warlock had reason to fear the inquisitors: one minute we're here…" He popped out of the zoo. "The next, we're not," he said upon his return. "It was those we left behind—our mortal friends, families and defenders—who paid the ultimate price for our…departure."
"There were…" Maurice paused, "other considerations."
"Yeah, I know, like the one about Sammie and Darrin⁽⁷⁾ not being the first witch/mortal union."
Ominous thunder rumbled in the distance, but Arthur wasn't going to be dissuaded. "We've become too insular; too set in observing traditions that were outdated six-hundred years ago. And you, you've been offered a seat on the Council at least a dozen times in my life alone. Yet, you've refused it, and that was well before Darrin was born."
"I never desired a seat."
Arthur nodded. "You enjoy your freedom too much to join a bunch of—" The thunder intensified, and Arthur stopped what he was about to say. The Council never does like being criticised, he thought. He'd play this by their rules for the moment. A lit cigarette appeared in his hand, and he inhaled deeply. "Tell me the truth, would you and my sister ever have married if you hadn't been betrothed as infants?"
"You're not what I envisioned as the ideal brother-in-law, either." Maurice had diplomatically side-stepped the question, but Arthur already knew the answer.
"Do you know why I enjoy being around mortals?"
"You enjoy playing pranks on them."
"There is that," he conceded, smiling. "No, it's because they know how to live. They dream. They imagine. They enjoy so many things I take for granted. They struggle to make their impossible possible. Me? I snap my fingers, and it's reality."
"What pleasure can you possibly derive from the plight of lesser beings?"
This is going to be harder than I thought. "What major accomplishment has our society created in the last four-hundred-odd years that isn't some adaptation of a mortal-inspired design?"
It was true, thought Maurice. Even the cut of his wardrobe and the Duesenberg he enjoyed being chauffeured in were first conceived by mortals.
"I see you read Mays at university."
"Read? He was the most engaging professor I had there—even if he didn't enjoy my humour. He got me to think. To look outside myself, and both worlds we're part of."
"And what has all this to do with Adam?"
Another drag on the cigarette. "Maurice, think with your heart instead of your head. You've spent these last couple of days trying to impress Adam with your magic, watching him like an insect under a microscope and hoping he'll react the way you want. Why don't you just try being with him? Don't analyse him. Don't dissect him as if he were a lesser being." He turned Maurice's words on him.
"Enjoy his enjoyment; see the world through his eyes. You don't have to be the perfect grandfather. If you give him yourself, it'll be more than enough."
Maurice nodded, thoughtfully. "Arthur, for someone whose life has been little more than a series of practical jokes and punchlines, you're a very wise young man."
Arthur smiled at the compliment. "Don't let it get around—especially to Endora; she'd never let me live it down."
"She wouldn't believe me, even if I were to tell her."
*.*.*.*.*
While there were no mortals about, Serena was happily zapping the zebras with a variety of multicoloured stripes to the delight of her nephew.
"He looks like the Fruit Stripe Zebra⁽⁸⁾!" laughed Adam pointing at one zebra whose stripes were the hues of a rainbow.
"You've seen that one before?" While Serena was thrilled by Adam's enthusiasm for her minor trick, she didn't know mortals had bred any zebras that weren't black and white.
"Uh-huh," he nodded. "On television."
Mortal magic, she thought, acknowledging their "tricks" with photography.
A scroll materialised over the zebras, and she bit her lip watching it unfurl to deliver its contents. Being mortal, Adam was unable to see it.
Serena,
It's time for the lad's return.
The parchment was penned in Maurice's flourishing and opulent script, and once read, was engulfed in eldritch fire to disappear into dust.
A chill swept through her that had little to do with London's foggy and damp early June weather. The older warlock had obviously made his decision.
"You know your Grandfather and Uncle Arthur are going to wonder what happened to us," her voice caught. She crouched to Adam's level, and hugged him tightly. "What do you say we go back?"
"It's okay, Aunt 'Rena," he said knowingly. "Things'll be better this way."
*.*.*.*.*
Arthur and Maurice stood shoulder to shoulder as two figures seemed to materialise through the fog, approaching them.
Serena stopped in midstride, her mouth agape. "Are you going to a masquerade at the Cosmic Cotillion? You look like a retired Oxford don."
The elegant and dapper morning suit that Maurice usually wore had been replaced by a fashionable Harris tweed sport jacket, atop a dark brown sweater-vest. A café-au-lait coloured silk shirt with a deep burgundy-red tie, dark brown slacks, and matching shoes completed the ensemble.
"It won't make the top-ten list of most-elegantly attired warlocks in Harpies Bazaar⁽⁹⁾" Serena smiled. "But, it's very becoming."
Maurice returned his niece's compliment with a small smile. "The question is, Adam," he looked at his grandson, "do you think it's appropriate attire for a day at Walt—"
Arthur coughed loudly.
"The amusement park? Arthur told me that there's a fun one in your state. Lake Compounce?"
"Do-do you mean it, Grandfather?"
He squatted to look his grandson squarely in the eyes. "Of course, I mean it." Maurice put on a brave front: "We'll ride the carousel, eat candy apples and watch the fireworks over the lake. How does that sound?"
Adam nodded, his eyes twinkling with delight.
Maurice hugged his grandson close, and with a grin looked at Arthur and Serena. "Ta-ta, peasants." In the blink of an eye, the pair were gone.
There were tears in Serena's eyes when she looked at Arthur. "What did you say to him?"
Arthur reached into his suit jacket's inner pocket and pulled out a pair of googly-eye glasses, putting them on. "I showed him how to look at things through a different lens," he laughed.
*.*.*.*.*
While the day had not been the spectacular event Maurice envisioned giving Adam, the boy had seemed to enjoy himself. There was an exuberance to his laughter and excitement in a Connecticut amusement park that he'd failed to stir in Kenya, Holland, Paris or Everest.
Everything from riding the roller coaster to playing games on the midway brought joy to Adam. Except for zapping a few age- and skill-appropriate arcade wins, he'd used very little magic. As Arthur said, the magic was in sharing his grandson's joy.
When the boy was finally too exhausted to stand, they'd returned to his Mayfair flat, where Maurice was getting him ready for bed.
"Have you brushed your teeth and said your prayers?"
"Uh-huh." He nodded, reaching into the nightstand drawer where he'd placed something when they arrived.
"Do you like it?"
Maurice took the small white box that contained one of the arcade prizes. It was a cheap, plastic tie clip painted with a layer of chrome covering it to make it appear silver, and on it was a small red plastic stone. Net value about 50¢: the perfect gift for Dobbin. "I'm certain your father will be suitably impressed."
"I didn't win it for Daddy. I won it for you," he said drowsily, snuggling into his pillows "I love you, Grandpa."
The warlock looked at the trinket again, as though seeing it for the first time. How could you ever have thought you weren't filled with magic, Adam? With a mere four-word incantation, the five-year-old turned the object priceless.
Maurice tucked the covers around his grandson. "Your grandfather loves you, too."
~ Finis ~
© 2022 by Dash O'Pepper
Footnotes: ⁽¹⁾ The author knows that East Asia would be the correct location for where Samantha and Darrin are in this story; however, in 1974, when this story is set, "the Orient" would still have been the colloquial term for the region. No disrespect is intended.
⁽²⁾ The Continuum/Cosmic Continuum was first revealed to be an alternate realm on Bewitched, over twenty-years before Star Trek: The Next Generation's "Encounter at Farpoint" (#1.01). Sorry, Q.
⁽³⁾ Since Bewitched never provided any canon backstory on the history of witches and warlocks, or why a different species could successfully procreate with mortals, I've always assumed that at one time they must have had a common genetic ancestor. As a separate culture, witches and warlocks would have also likely developed their own creation myth, hence the reference to Adam and Lilith.
⁽⁴⁾ The DeFranco Family were the Italian-American answer to the Osmonds. While there were many tween and teen pop idols in 1974, there were only about three or four who were close in age to Tabitha. Among Danny Bonaduce (Danny in The Partridge Family), Christopher Knight and Mike Lookinland (Peter and Bobby Brady in The Brady Bunch), and Tony DeFranco, the last seemed the perfect fit.
⁽⁵⁾ In one of Paul Lynde's earliest appearances as Uncle Arthur, it's stated that he's Endora's younger brother. Canon establishes that Serena is Samantha's cousin, but has never made it clear whether she's on her maternal or paternal side. Fanon seems to suggest it's paternal.
⁽⁶⁾ While it's never explicitly stated in Bewitched's canon that witches and warlocks have the ability to read minds, it is implied in several episodes that they are able to turn someone's unspoken wishes into reality.
⁽⁷⁾ Arthur and Clara are the only two members of Samantha's large family to consistently call Darrin by name. Sometimes Serena does; sometimes she doesn't—it seems to vary by episode and Darrin.
⁽⁸⁾ Fruit Stripe Gum was a popular, fruit-flavoured chewing gum at the time; their advertising mascot was a colourfully striped cartoon zebra that talked.
⁽⁹⁾ Per canon, Harpies Bazaar is a popular magazine among witches and warlocks.
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