Forgotten Witch : A Lia Miller Series

by Sara Stone

  Forgotten Witch

  Sara Stone

  Contents

  Synopsis

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  About the Author

  Social Media

  If someone had told me that coming back here would lead to my whole world changing, I wouldn’t have believed them.

  My entire world didn’t just change. It was as if I had navigated it in the dark, and, finally, someone had turned on the light.

  Everything was different, and yet still the same.

  It all changed with one room, a door I had never opened. Little did I know that once it was open, there was no going back.

  Prologue

  There was no way that I was going to open that door. It hid secrets I was not prepared to bring to light. I had been avoiding that room like the plague my whole life, mostly because I enjoyed living, and had I gone in there, she would tan my hide. That door could be hiding just about anything.

  Growing up in a home with a room I couldn’t go in had my imagination running circles around the possibilities. As the new owner of the house, I couldn’t get myself to look. I could hear Gram now chastising me for even getting near it. Every time I walked past, my gaze would linger on it, the door pulling me in like I was stuck in its orbit. But I had more important things to worry about than going in there.

  I had been avoiding unpacking like the plague. I guess any psychologist would say that I was having trouble moving into the future without her or some mumbo jumbo like that. I wasn’t having trouble at all. I just wasn’t doing it. My stay here felt temporary. I had a job and a little apartment to get back to. This had always been my home, but I couldn’t help but think of it as hers. Now that it was mine, I didn’t know where to start. I only had two options, and neither one of them seemed like the right choice.

  Two weeks passed since her death, but it felt like forever. I got the call from the hospital when I was lying down one night. My heart raced the entire three-hour drive as I drove as fast as I could to be by her side. She suffered a stroke, or at least that’s what the doctor said. Someone had come by and found her unconscious in the kitchen. Seeing her lying there in the hospital, with more tubes than I could count, was one of the most challenging moments of my life. She was the woman who raised me, the person that made me who I am. She was the strongest person I have ever known, and now she was in a hospital bed looking all too fragile. I walked into the room and sat with her, hoping she would wake up, but she never did. She passed about an hour or so after I got there. She slipped quietly away as I held her hand and sobbed like a baby.

  She had been my lifeline, the one to raise me when my mother decided she wasn’t the motherly type. Gram had pushed me to follow my dreams and leave the small, middle of nowhere town of Eastcliff, Idaho. As soon as I graduated high school, I found a once in a lifetime job in Gainsbury, a county over, prompting me to leave as quickly as possible. Over the next ten years, I worked my way up through the company, eventually becoming a publisher’s assistant, even after it meant doing all the grunt work.

  I needed to host a memorial, making sure to honor her memory. Afterward, though, I had some planning to do. I couldn’t decide if I would stay and live in Eastcliff again, or sell the house to go back to the city. Both options had cons that I wasn’t in the mood to face.

  Chapter One

  I went into the bathroom and set to the task of curling my long hair. I usually threw it up in a messy bun and called it good. Today was different, though. I had to stand among strangers and grieve for my gram while saying goodbye. I had said goodbye in the hospital as she died, but this was different. It was my last goodbye. I knew that wasn't really a thing because I kept mentally talking to her all the time, but it just felt right to get myself looking my best for her since I was her only family member there.

  Cursing the straightener, I set it down and pulled out my small makeup pouch. It was nothing fancy, and I had no actual idea of what I was doing, but I put on a little bit of blush without putting on my foundation, as I already looked pale and sickly. Losing someone does that to your complexion. I had been running on chocolate and wine, so my face was dotted with budding acne from the heaps of fat. I dabbed tiny dots of concealer on them. Who called it concealer anyway? Instead of staring at red dots, people now get to see them through cream spackle.

  I had way more time to get ready than I needed but standing there having something to do was keeping me calm. Apparently, all who knew her would be here to celebrate her life. I could handle clients with work. I could take strangers and idle chit chat, but stand around with people I didn't know while mourning the only family I had was not high on my list of things to do.

  After applying light lip gloss and touching up some waterproof mascara, I stood there looking at myself in the mirror. I was still in my fuzzy pajama pants and a tank top, so my hair and makeup being done contrasted. My green eyes seemed sunken in my face with all the lack of sleep the past couple of days. There was no hiding those bags. At least I got some curl into my hair before it became unruly, and I put it up in my go to messy bun. I put a hair tie on my wrist and walked to the bedroom.

  It had been my room forever. At least since my mother decided that she would rather not be a mom. That should have been something she knew before she had me. Gram took me in; in a sense, she had been my mother, father, and grandmother all in one, raising me to be the woman I am today.

  I slid on the velvety soft dress. Even though it was summer, it had quarter sleeves with a cinched waistline. The dress accentuated my already curvy frame. I wasn't trying to dress up, but it was the only black dress I owned. I had bought it for a cocktail party for work when my boss was promoted. I couldn't decide on any heels, so I slipped on ballet flats, which was better for someone who tripped upstairs or fell over nothing. Standing around all day with an aching heart and feet was not my idea of a good time either. I checked myself in the floor-length mirror hanging on my closet door. It wasn't my best look, but it would have to do. I think Gram would approve of it.

  I walked down the stairs and stood on the bottom step. As I glanced around, I realized I knew every nook, cranny, and even still, I loved its old character. Gram left the old place to me in her will. Not that anyone else was around to leave it to, and yet it still surprised me. Her pictures and knickknacks still lined the walls and the mantle over the fireplace. Her antique furniture sat serenely in the same place they had been my whole life. The only thing that hinted she died happened to be a thin layer of dust. She would have never allowed her house to look unkempt. I couldn't breathe through that realization.

  I hurried to the kitchen for a rag and furniture polish. I set to work carefully, dusting every little thing before the living room was spotless. I let myself get lost in the task. I didn't have to think or focus. It was a chore I had quickly done for ten plus years and something I helped with every time I visited. A twinge of regret filled my belly, closing my throat in a painful knot as I thought about all the weekends that I could have come home to see her. All the time I wasted stuck in my head as her time on this earth slowly dwindled away. Everything I had accomplished in my professional life up to that point seemed so unimportant now. I shook off the melancholy and walked
out to my favorite spot. It was my happy place. The one where I could go to think, relax, or just be away to process my thoughts.

  The old porch swing was the perfect spot to curl up and get lost in a good book. The smell of all the flowers wafted up to the porch. The hotter it got outside, the more the honeysuckles permeated the air. The metal chains' soft creaking was my version of white noise, lulling me into a peaceful calm with its rhythmic sounds. I pulled a daisy-covered twine pillow to my middle, enjoying rocking back and forth in the comfort it had always brought me. I sat there for I don't know how long, lost in my thoughts of the past, wishing, more than anything, I would hear Gram call me in for lunch like she had every day when, out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a tall figure come around the side of the house.

  "Holy Shi-shiitake mushrooms! You scared the crap out of me!" I yelled, a little louder than I intended, and grasped at my chest as my heart was trying to jump out of it. My veins coursed with adrenaline, but it was clear my fight or flight mode was broken as my reaction had been neither. Good thing he wasn't here to rob me, but then again, there were worse ways to die.

  "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he chuckled. He leaned his tall frame against the railing, unintentionally showing off his glorious arm muscles as he crossed them over his chest. What is wrong with me? This man damn near gives me a heart attack, and I'm checking him out like my latest library book. I had difficulty processing his striking features, taking note of his dark, disheveled hair, long enough to run his fingers through but short enough not to sit in his strikingly dark eyes. I must have stared longer than I thought because he cleared his throat, bringing my eyes back up to his chiseled face. Busted! My face flushing with my embarrassment.

  "I came to check on the porch stairs. Mabel said they were loose," he said, his voice low and gravely. His words faltered on Gram's name. There was a flash of pain on his face before he hid it beneath a well-used impassive mask.

  "So, you're the reason the yard is still so pristine? She hates...hated when the yard was a mess," I glanced around the yard, hoping the moisture springing to my eyes wouldn't run down my face. The last thing I wanted was to cry in front of some stranger, especially one so manly. It would probably repel him. Yes, he was very handsome, so handsome that I was on the verge of babbling incessantly.

  "No, I'm a handyman of sorts. I painted these pillars, and I fixed the back door a while back." I wanted to laugh at the word handyman but realized how wildly inappropriate it would be to explain. I felt a small blush hit my cheeks when I caught him staring at me. Self-consciously I ran my hand along my mouth as if I had an itch. I hadn't eaten, so nothing could have been there. Maybe it was my hair. My long auburn hair was an unruly mess, already starting to tangle.

  "And you are?" I asked, my eyebrows raising as I leaned back into the swing, not surprised my shining personality started to show through. I didn't intend for it to be sassy, but that's just how it came off. Even with Gram's age, it was odd that she would have someone work on her prized possession. It made him all that much more mysterious that she approved.

  "Judson Bordeaux and you're Dahlia," he said, extending his hand to me. His firm hand swallowed mine in a tight shake, and his chocolate brown eyes lock onto my dull green for a bit longer than is comfortable. I am horrible at keeping eye contact, let alone with a tall, brooding stranger who had just snuck up on me. If I hadn't been overly aware his eyes were the color of my favorite snack, I would have sworn there had been a tingle, a weird sensation that tickled my palm. Maybe just static or my wild imagination. I felt the spark crawl up my arm making my heart pick up its pace.

  "Well, that's got to be the most southern name I have ever heard," I giggled, then quickly covered it with a cough when he raised one eyebrow as if to ask if I was serious. Yes, yes, I was. I listened for a twang in his voice but never caught it. It was one of my favorite parts of the south, all the accents from the different regions. The adrenaline that had spiked through my body was giving me the jitters. I could try to blame my outburst on the jitters, but as usual, that was just my normal or not so normal self.

  "Just call me, Lia." He had used my full name. Gram said it was special, but I never believed it. I started to shorten it around middle school and never grew out of it; even at work, I kept it short.

  "All right, Lia. It was nice to meet you. Mabel was always talking about you." His lips picked up into a soft smile as he seemed to remember her. They must have been friends. Gram was like that, though. She would take just about anyone under her wing to the point you felt like she had always been part of your family. There had been too many times to count that she would bring someone over to work for a meal, and they'd stay for a week, or she would get a wild hair and pack up half the kitchen to take to a donation box for the needy. The ways she made sure to help those that couldn't help themselves filled me with pride. She always tried to make trades if she could so they wouldn't feel like it was all charity.

  "You can't believe everything you hear," I shrugged with a half-wit attempt at a wink, which came out more like a tic. Why had I done that? If the ground would open and swallow me, that would be just fantastic.

  He chuckled again even though I could tell he tried to hide it as he walked to his old truck. As he walked down the walkway, I couldn't help but enjoy the view. The man filled out a pair of Wranglers too well. His backside could have featured on a calendar. Man, just thinking such thoughts told me I desperately needed a date. You don't go around thinking about your handyman.

  It had been almost a year since my last disastrous date, and I didn't want to have a repeat, especially in a small town where I could run into said weirdo at the grocery store. I shuddered. He got to his truck and peeked back over his shoulder, prompting me to jump up and run into the house. My cheeks were burning with embarrassment for a long while.

  I stood there unsure of what to do with some time I had left before the food would be delivered. My work had put me on leave for a few weeks, so I didn't have any manuscripts to review. Coffee is always good. A giant cup of focus was exactly what I needed before all Gram's friends showed up. I grabbed my purse and made the short drive down a few blocks to a little cafe on the corner. The usual chain coffee was up on the town's main drag, and I didn't want to wait forever while dealing with hipsters.

  The Roast, the cafe's name, was on a custom metal sign with a steamy coffee cup. It made for excellent curb appeal. When I walked in, the scent of roasting coffee and baked goods had me instantly drooling. Couples and friends occupied little tables enjoying the afternoon. Some were familiar and waved, which always made me want to hide; none of them had been friendly as kids, so getting to know them as adults wasn't my top priority. I had never been a big fan of the town and everyone knowing everyone's business. Instead of making lifelong friendships, I had studied hard to get myself out of here as fast as I could. I was in awe of the cute decor and handwritten chalkboard menu when a voice interrupted my perusal.

  "Welcome in! Oh, it's you...have you opened the book yet?" a tall woman behind the counter was leaning towards me with a welcoming smile on her face. Her light blonde hair pulled back into a high pony showing off the bright pink bow on top. The name tag on her pink apron said, Hattie. Her lipstick and eyeshadow matched her bow, making me instantly like her.

  "What?" I asked, more baffled at what she was asking me than that she knew who I was.

  "It's nothing," she said, with a wave of her hand, "What can I get you?"

  "Uh... what's good here?" She put me on the spot, making me nervous. The line behind me was growing, and I hated to be under scrutiny. No one likes to be that guy, well, girl.

  "You seem like a hazelnut espresso frap and lemon blueberry muffin type to me," she said, "Your name?"

  "It's Lia, and that sounds great." I handed her a ten and waved away my change. She had stopped what she was doing when I gave her my name. Her smile grew wider, and she nodded to herself. I had to have missed something. She acted like she knew who I was,
but she was asking my name. I brushed it off as just her mistaking me for someone else.

  "Welcome back!" she said happily as she went about making my order.

  "Thank you..." I trailed off, not sure what to say to such an odd conversation.

  "I'll see you around," she said as she handed me my order and waved me off. I couldn't help but notice all the TVs around the shop seemed to be broadcasting a missing girl in a bright yellow banner. I shook my head; probably time to invest in an alarm system for the house since it was just me now.

  Sipping the coffee as I walked out of the shop, I almost moaned; it was so heavenly. Iced and cool, combating the heat of the day, and yet velvety rich hazelnut danced around my taste buds. She hadn't even asked if I was new in town or just visiting. I was now at two weird encounters for the day.

  I got out of my car just in time to help the caterer bring in all the platters. Gram would be rolling in her grave to think I hadn't cooked anything myself, but I couldn't have a bunch of her friends criticizing me over my recipes not being traditional to the south while I made small talk about Gram's life. I just wasn't in the mood. I had the local diner cook up some of the favorites for everybody to munch on. The fried chicken was juicy and crispy goodness that would placate the harshest critic. After setting it up buffet style, I double checked everything was as pristine as Gram would have it. I was not going to let her down.

  Before I knew it, everyone had come and gone, along with many hours of the day. I had a couple casseroles to tide me over, along with some leftovers of the catered food, as most of the older ladies showed their love through food. During the memorial, there were so many just stopping in with condolences with a hug or flowers. It seemed like most of the town had come. No one had said a word about me not cooking myself. In fact, they hadn't blamed me at all. I had only cried a half dozen times, swearing to buy stock in the mascara that didn't smudge a bit with all the tears. I had heard the stories of Gram and Pop Pop's renowned love, how sassy she had been in her younger years, and how dearly she would be missed. I sat on the couch, drained from crying and from trying to make conversation for so many hours. It went way past the time I thought it would.