Spells A Bayou Magic Novel - Kristen Proby Page 0,46
Yes, that’s where it was. And she played it beautifully. “Do you play?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “No lessons are available to a kid when her single mother is possessed by an evil spirit.”
“Good point.” I lead her to the library. “The last owner left all of the books in here, and they said the owner before them did the same. I think some of these were here when we were here last time.”
“Wow,” she says as she lovingly brushes her fingertips over the spines of the books in the cases. The room is two stories tall with volumes from floor to ceiling and a ladder on rails for fetching things high up. “Maybe we stashed something in here that could help us.”
“You know, you could be right,” I reply, thinking it over. “I’ll climb up later and do some digging.”
“Maybe I can rotate some of the less valuable books through the café in the reading nook for customers to read.”
“There’s plenty here,” I say. “That’s a good plan.”
She sighs and continues looking around, then nods. “Okay, what’s next?”
“Upstairs is our room, and four other empty bedrooms, all with adjoining baths.”
“Geez, Lucien, this house was ahead of its time when it was built.”
“Not all of the bedrooms had adjoining baths when it was built,” I reply as I lead her up the staircase. “Someone remodeled over the past thirty years or so and added them. It used to be six bedrooms and one bathroom upstairs.”
“Ah, so it’s been modernized.”
“Drastically. And it needed to be. A house this old needs new wiring and plumbing. I think someone once planned to turn it into a B&B but ran out of money and had to sell.”
“That makes sense,” she says as we pass our bedroom and start opening doors to the other rooms. “I love the hardwood. Is it original?”
“The downstairs is, but all of the floors up here have been replaced.”
She nods and looks into the bathroom, then a closet, before we move on to the next.
She stops before the closed door.
“What is it?” I ask.
“This was the nursery.” She looks up at me for confirmation. I nod. “Her name was Sabrina. She was born in the spring, and she had Daphne’s red hair.”
“And her mother’s brown eyes.” I kiss the top of her head. “She was lovely.”
She opens the door and steps into the empty room. White curtains hang on the windows, and someone painted the walls mint green.
“I have a really, really weird question.”
“I’m ready.”
“Lucien, do we have grandchildren out there? Great-grandchildren? Descendants?”
“That’s not a weird question,” I reply with a sigh. “And the answer is, I don’t know. I haven’t looked because what would be the point? I don’t know what happened to Sabrina after we died. I don’t know if she had children. But if she did, they could still be living.”
“This is crazy,” Millie says and leans against the wall. “And sad.”
“Don’t be sad.” I kiss her lips gently. “Let’s keep going, shall we?”
“Okay.”
We look in on each bedroom and bathroom.
“That’s it.”
“There’s a door right here,” she says, already turning the knob.
“That’s just the attic.”
“Then it’s a must-see.” She flips on the light and leads me up the stairs to an open space that spans the entire house. “Whoa, it’s huge. And pretty empty, just like the rest of the house.”
“Lots of storage,” I say and watch as she roams around the dusty space.
“Probably some spiders up here.” She scrunches up her nose, then turns and examines the wall. “Wait a second. There’s something about this area over here.”
She wanders to the wall and stares at it.
“I don’t think there’s anything there.”
“I swear, there’s a hole, or a secret passageway or something.”
“If there was anything, I’m sure a previous owner found it when they remodeled.”
“It doesn’t look like this area has been touched,” she says. “I’m telling you, I remember something about this space.”
“Okay, let’s figure it out. I don’t remember there being anything out of the ordinary up here. You had some trunks stored up here full of old clothes, and some mementos. Baby things that Sabrina outgrew. Just the standard things that people put in attics.”
“I wonder if…” She squats and starts running her hand along the wall. It’s just clapboard, not sheetrock. Suddenly, a piece of the wall gives way, revealing a hole. “I knew it.”
“Holy shit.” I sit back, stunned.
“I made this hiding place,” she says as she pulls her phone out of her pocket and turns on the flashlight, shining it into