“When I went for a ride in the car with Mama we used to sing,” she said petulantly.
“And what exactly did you sing?”
“Whatever was on the radio.”
Drew snapped on the radio. “Let’s see what we can find.”
He jumped from station to station, pausing at each one long enough to glance into the rear view mirror and catch Brooke’s grimace. When the radio didn’t work out too well, Brooke unbuckled her seat belt and began playing with Lucy. Drew spotted this in the mirror.
“Back in the seat,” he said. “And buckle up!”
In Spartanburg, South Carolina, he finally pulled off the road, and they stopped for the night. He had hoped to make it to Charlotte or possibly even Greensboro so they’d have a shorter drive the second day, but with all the stops and delays it was an impossibility. They had already been on the road for over nine hours.
The second day was no better than the first. Each time Drew thought he’d have a chance to make up some of the lost time, Brooke found another need to stop. It was almost four o’clock when they finally crossed into Virginia, which meant he wasn’t going to make it to Burnsville before seven.
With another two stops, it turned out to be almost eight when they finally reached Burnsville. Drew stopped at the gas station and asked for directions to Haber Street.
“I’m looking for Memory House,” he said.
The attendant nodded. “Yep, that’s sure enough on Haber Street.” He waggled his finger, pointing to a road that ran off to the side. “Take Chestnut for as far as you can go then make a left. Haber is about three blocks down on the right.”
Drew thanked him and started off.
When he made the right onto Haber Street, the sun was low on the horizon and the glare made it difficult to see. Drew spotted the sign that read Memory House but failed to notice that it said nothing about a bed and breakfast.
He pulled into the driveway and clicked off the engine. Turning back to look at Brooke face to face rather than in the mirror, he smiled and said, “Well, we’re here.”
Cramming a Barbie and her phone into the backpack she carried everywhere, Brooke unbuckled her seat belt and scrambled out. Looking up at the house, its window boxes filled with red geraniums, she said, “This doesn’t look like a hotel.”
“It’s not,” Drew replied. “It’s a bed and breakfast inn.”
“What about dinner?”
“Just breakfast, no dinner.” Drew pulled their overnight case from the trunk and turned toward the house. “Once we get settled in our room, we’ll go out and look for a place to eat.”
Drew reached for the brass knocker and rapped it.
Thursday evening was when Oliver held night court, so Annie was busy in the apothecary. When she heard the knocker her head popped up from behind the counter and she called out, “Come on in.”
Drew eased the door open and stepped inside. “Hello?”
“I’m in the apothecary,” Annie hollered.
Following the sound of her voice, he turned right. Carrying Lucy in her arms, Brooke followed along. Once they were inside the apothecary, her eyes grew big and sparkly. She tugged on Drew’s sleeve and in a very loud whisper said, “Daddy, this is a magic shop!”
Annie laughed. “Sometimes it feels like that to me too but it’s not magic, just some roots, herbs and spices.” She looked over at Drew and asked, “Were you looking for something special?”
“We’re the Bishops. Fred Wilcox said you’d be expecting us?”
“Oh.” Annie thought about the orders she was preparing that evening and didn’t remember having one for Mildred or Fred Wilcox.
“Were you supposed to pick up something?” she asked.
“Not from the apothecary,” Drew said. “We’ll be staying with you for a week or so until we can find a more permanent place.”
Annie was just about to say this was no longer a bed and breakfast when she noticed the memories clinging to both the father and the little girl. They were like icicles hanging from a wintery pine, stiff and frozen in place. She felt the heartache of those memories just as she’d felt the power of the locket she once wore.
She thought back to the night she’d come here with no reservation and very little hope for the future. She’d been heartsick and weary. Ophelia saw that and brought her in. She’d given her a warm welcome and renewed hope. If Ophelia did that for her, wasn’t it only right that she should do the same for this father and daughter?
“I only have one guest room available,” she said. “But it has twin beds and a lovely view of the pond.”
Drew smiled. “That sounds perfect.”
As she led them through the hallway toward the back room where she’d first stayed, Drew asked if she could recommend a nearby place for dinner.
“We’re kind of off the beaten path out here,” Annie said. “You’d have to drive back to the highway for the closest restaurant.”
When they got to the room she pushed the door open and stepped aside so they could enter. Brooke was first through the door and Drew followed. Just inside the room he stopped and turned back to Annie.
“You weren’t really expecting us, were you?”
Annie smiled and shook her head. “Fred Wilcox has gotten very forgetful this past year. Mildred brews periwinkle and ginseng tea for him, and while it helps it doesn’t actually cure a failing memory.”
Drew gave a sheepish shrug.
“Sorry,” he said. “I hope we’re not putting you out too much.”
“Not at all,” Annie replied. “In fact I was just going to ask if you’d like to join us for dinner. It’s beef stew, nothing fancy.”
Before he could answer Brooke said, “Oh, boy, I love beef stew!”
It was all Annie could do to hold back the grin tugging at her mouth.
“I take it that’s a yes.”
Drew nodded. “It’s a yes.”
Dinner and a Dream
It was close to nine o’clock when Oliver arrived home, but once they sat down to dinner time was all but forgotten. Drew and Oliver immediately segued into talking about the town and the growth potential for any business located in or around Burnsville.
“Just this year we’ve added two new radio stations, a cell phone tower and eight retail shops,” Oliver said.
Drew was adequately impressed and said he was looking forward to being part of such a thriving community. He explained that he was going to be the new plant manager at Southfield and would be looking for a house to rent or buy in the area.
“Someplace fairly close to the plant,” he said.
Oliver in turn suggested that he stop by the courthouse the next afternoon.
“I know a few realtors who I think might be able to help you.”
As the men talked, Annie told Brooke about the twins who were now fifteen months old.
“They’d love to have someone as grown up as you play with them,” she said. “Maybe once in a while you could babysit them for me. Not that I’d go off and leave you but, say, for instance, if I was busy working in the apothecary.”
Brooke’s eyes were fixed on Annie’s face as she leaned in listening.
“I never babysat little kids before,” she said, “but I know I could do it because my friend, Ava, has a baby brother, and I helped watch him.”
“Well, then, you’ve got experience. For a girl with experience, I’d be willing to pay a dollar an hour.”
Brooke’s eyes popped open. “A dollar? Just for playing?”
“Well, sure,” Annie said, “because that would give me time to straighten up the house and do some work in the apothecary.”
“Can I babysit them tomorrow?” Brooke asked.
“You sure can. Your daddy said he has to go visit the Southfield office tomorrow. You can babysit the twins while he’s gone.”
“You mean stay here by myself?”
“You wouldn’t be by yourself. I’d be here and the twins would be here.”
She saw
the gray cloud of concern covering the girl’s face and added, “Maybe we could make cookies in the afternoon and have ourselves a tea party.”
Brooke turned to her father. “Daddy, how far away is the office where you’re going?”
“Not far,” he answered. “Maybe a mile or two.”
Annie saw fear creeping up on the girl, and she was determined not to give it room to move in.
“I’m thinking chocolate chip,” she said. “How about you? Should we do chocolate chip or rainbow sprinkle cookies?”
“Chocolate chip,” Brooke replied tentatively.
“Okay, then, chocolate chip it is.”
A look of apprehension remained on Brooke’s face.
~ ~ ~
When the evening ended and everyone went off to bed, Annie couldn’t let go of the memories she’d seen in the father and daughter’s faces. Although the details were fuzzy, as they always were, she knew something horrific had happened to the child’s mother.
“I can feel their heartache,” she told Oliver. “I wish there were some way I could do something to help them.”
“You are helping,” he answered. “You’re giving them a place to stay, food to eat and an ear to listen. Sometimes those things are all a person needs to heal.”
He kissed her cheek, mumbled, “Goodnight, sweetheart,” then turned on his side and closed his eyes.
Annie remained awake for a long while. Through the skylight she could see a sprinkling of stars in the sky and couldn’t help wondering if the child’s mother was up there. Perhaps she was looking down at the sorrow she’d left behind. Perhaps she also was wondering what she could do to help heal their broken hearts.
This was the last thought Annie had before she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
In the dream she saw Ophelia as she was years earlier, not a young woman but with hair that had not yet turned silver. She was standing at the threshold of Memory House with the door flung open. One by one the people came, many with saddened faces and slumped shoulders.
Some were missing an arm, a leg, a foot or part of their face. They all had a look of weariness about them, as if they’d carried a heavy bundle on their back until they could no longer stand straight. In a short while the house was filled.
Oddly enough there seemed to be a seat for everyone. Some sat in the cushioned chairs of the parlor, others at the kitchen table and a few were perched on the staircase leading to the loft. Inside the sound of laughter could be heard, and the melancholy of their faces was no longer visible.
Annie saw herself standing next to Ophelia and asked, What now? All of these people have burdens too heavy to bear. If they leave them here, won’t it change Memory House?
Ophelia laughed.
People don’t change Memory House, she said. Memory House changes people.
But there are too many of them. Surely this is an impossible task.
Ophelia gave a soft smile. This didn’t happen all at once. Look around; you’ll see these are the people who came over the years, one at a time. Each of them was missing something, but here at Memory House they found the thing that made them whole.
Annie looked around the room. The man who’d come with a foot missing was standing whole. The woman with part of her face gone was now wearing a broad smile. They were all that way. Whatever brokenness they’d arrived with had somehow vanished.
I don’t understand…
You will, Ophelia said. In time you will. As she spoke her image began to fade away as did the other figures that had filled the house.
Wait! Annie shouted. Don’t go! I need you to explain!
Oliver gently shook her shoulder.
“Explain what?” he asked.
Annie blinked several times before her eyes were fully open. The stars were no longer visible in the skylight. They had been replaced by the rose-colored dawn of a new day.
She pulled on a pair of jeans and hurried down to the kitchen. They had guests, so there was a special breakfast to be made and two toddlers to be fed. Even as Annie slid the tray of biscuits into the oven and sliced pieces of fresh melon, the dream stayed in her head. It meant something, she was certain of it…but what?
Later that morning when Drew mentioned that he was going to drive over to meet with the team at Southfield, a look of dread settled on Brooke’s face.
“Can I go?” she asked.
“Not this time,” he said. “We’ll be talking business, and you’d just be bored.”
“No, I won’t. I like to listen to business talking.”
By then the twins had just about finished their breakfast. Ethan was still pushing a few Cheerios around the tray of his high chair, but Starr was squirming to get down.
“I’d like it if you could stay and play with the twins for a while,” Annie said as she lifted Starr from the chair and set her on the floor.
With her brows pinched together so tight they were nearly touching, Brook asked, “By myself?”
“I’ll be here,” Annie reassured her. Seeing the apprehension in the child’s face she kneeled in front of Brooke and whispered, “You were right yesterday when you said this is a magic place. I don’t tell everyone, because if word got around I wouldn’t have a minute to myself. But I figure if you’re going to babysit the twins, then you should know.”
Like most kids, Brooke loved nothing more than a secret. Now mesmerized, her face lit up and she asked, “Know what?”
“How Memory House got its name.” Annie’s face was aglow with a magic of its own. “It began years ago, when a woman named Ophelia moved into the house…”
As she spoke Drew quietly slipped out the door.
Annie Doyle
I thought about that dream with Ophelia all morning long. I knew there was a message in it, but for the love of me I couldn’t figure out what it was. Then I saw Brooke playing with the twins and laughing at their antics.
She had taken her Barbie doll out and was trying to teach Starr to say Barbie. Starr has a tendency to lop off the first letter of every word, so I knew such an effort was fruitless. Every time Brooke told her to say “Barbie,” Starr repeated “Arbie.”
Ethan doesn’t do that. He looked up from the blocks he was playing with, said “Barbie” then went right back to building a tower.
“See,” Brooke said, using Ethan as an example. “Barbie.”
“Arbie,” Starr repeated again.
Brooke laughed like I didn’t think she was capable of. That laughter had the sound of happiness in it. She certainly didn’t have that same fearful look she had when her daddy told her he was going to the plant. I thought, She seems like a different girl, and that’s when I started to understand the dream.
This past year I’ve been busy with the twins and haven’t given much thought to Memory House as it was when Ophelia gave it to me. I’ve been seeing it as a wonderful old house to live in, but I’d forgotten the sweet memories stuck in every corner. Memories from the people who came here and stayed until they found the piece of themselves that they’d lost.
It’s selfish to keep a place as special as this for just my own family. There are so many others that need the healing this house has to give.
It’s funny how fate works. Had Drew Bishop not showed up here with memories looking as painful as boils, I might never have seen the truth. Memory House isn’t just a house, it’s a starting point for new lives. We’ve got plenty of room, so I’m going to reopen the bed and breakfast.
Last year when Oliver painted the new apothecary sign for me, I took the old sign and put it in the basement. It was a sentimental thing. I never dreamed I’d one day use it again, but I’m going to.
Tomorrow I’ll take the sign that says Memory House Bed and Breakfast, polish it up and put it right back where it belongs—out by the weeping willow.
House Hunting
On Saturday Drew had appointments with all three of the realtors Oliver had given him. This time Brooke got to go along, as did Lucy.
Th
eir first appointment was with Frank Elgin, a man with gray whiskers and a low tolerance of both children and animals. Right off he indicated his listings were mostly apartments and a good number of those specified no pets.
“I’ve got a two-bedroom in Dorchester, but it’s a thirty-minute drive,” he said.
He turned the computer around and showed Drew a picture of the apartment. The living room had an oversized sectional and a coffee table that seemed to be made from a door. With two club chairs and a desk squeezed into the room, it appeared overcrowded and way too small.
Drew shook his head. “Too cramped.”
The only other thing Elgin had at the moment was a working farm on the outskirts of Langley.
“A farm,” he said, “now that’s a good place for kids and animals.”
Brooke’s face brightened for a moment, but Drew shook his head.
“I’ll be managing the Southfield plant, so working a farm would be impossible.”
They moved on to the second realtor, Emma Jean Burns.
“No relationship to the founder of the town,” she said laughingly. Emma Jean had several houses in Drew’s price range, but all of them were a half-hour or an hour from the plant.
“We can take a look,” Drew said, “but I’d hoped to find something closer.”
“I’ve got one on Beacon Street.” Emma Jean replied. “That one is just ten minutes from the plant, but it’s higher than you wanted to go.”
Emma Jean made several calls asking if they could see the houses that day. They spent the remainder of the afternoon going from place to place. The first house was spacious enough, but it was at the far end of a street with a wooded lot next to it. Drew saw how Brooke eyed the woods and said the location wasn’t right for them.
The second house needed work—lots of work. Termites had gotten to the front porch, so that needed to be torn down and replaced. Plus, the pipes rattled when the tap was turned on. And the owner said there might or might not be a problem with the furnace.
Silver Threads Page 15
