Summer at Myrtle Bay by Cherie Mitchell

Author:Cherie Mitchell [Mitchell, Cherie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2019-12-30T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

“A box of old photos? That’s the reason why you’ve been staying away from the attic?” Brandt stared at her incredulously. “How could a bunch of old photos keep you away? I don’t get it.”

Rosie attempted to explain herself. “Photos in themselves hold no power if you’re viewing them as a collective. It’s the individual subject of each photo, the image that you take the time to linger over, that has the ability to either bore, stimulate, delight, enthrall, excite, or horrify. Or, in my case, bring back a rush of memories that I don’t know if I’m ready for.” The album was in her hands now, the leather cover heart-achingly familiar. She traced her finger along the gold motif on the front, remembering, remembering, remembering.

Sometime after her father married Mavis all those years ago, all photos of Ronald’s first wife Amelia had quietly vanished from the house - all except for a tiny photo that young Rosie kept in a gold locket. The locket was long gone now, lost at some forgotten time or place over the years, and Rosie’s memory of her mother’s face was now entirely in her mind’s eye. It felt safer to keep it there, rather than open the can of worms that looking at these photos were sure to open, but she knew this was all part of her own healing process and it would help when she visited Mavis tomorrow morning.

“What’s in the photo album?” Brandt went to take it from her but Rosie hugged it tightly to her chest, wrapping her arms across it to prevent him from touching it. “I’ll take it back downstairs,” she said quickly. “We’ll find the Book of Enchantments and the lost things spell and get out of here before sleeping beauty wakes up.”

Brandt nodded and turned away to look at a sagging bookcase laden with several unopened glass jars of newt eyes and frog legs. He touched his finger to the spine of a huge, heavy book. “I’ve found it already. Are you sure the right spell is in here?”

Rosie sat the photo album down tenderly on the edge of the sheet-covered caldron and held her hands out for the thick, cloth-bound book. “This book is basically an encyclopedia of spells. If we don’t find it in here, I don’t like our chances of finding it anywhere.”

“Why don’t you have one of those books?”

“It’s not as if you can go out and buy one. You have to be gifted a Book of Enchantments. I left the bay before my gift-giving ceremony. It usually happens at some stage between the ages of 40 and 50. Don’t forget that those ages are not considered old to veteran witches who have lived for several centuries themselves.” She opened the cover of the book and flipped through several of the gilt-edged pages until she found what she was looking for. “Ah, here it is. The spell to return lost things.” Rosie grinned in satisfaction as she scanned the words. “We need a crisp new page of paper, a brand new pen, and the oil of the honeysuckle flower.

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