Spells (Bayou Magic 2)

“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 the darkness. “Ah, there it is. I can’t believe I remember this.”

“I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” I admit. “We never had secrets from each other.”

Is that hurt I hear in my voice? Maybe. It’s never been like Millie to keep something from me.

“This wasn’t a secret from you,” she says as she pulls a wooden box out of the hole.

“Is anything else in there?”

“No, just this.” She turns off the flashlight and shoves her phone back into her pocket. She sits on the dusty floor beside me and blows dirt off the top of the box. There are two entwined hearts carved in the top. “I didn’t remember this until we came up here. This is so cool. Like something out of a movie.”

“Our whole lives are like something out of a movie, Millicent. I’m dying to know what’s in that box.”

“Okay, let’s see if I remember how to open this thing. You push here, and tug there, and…” The puzzle box opens, and Millie smiles at me in excitement.

“What is it?”

She takes some dried flowers off the top. “These flowers were in my hair when we got married in the park.”

The crown of blooms is faded from time but still intact. When the time comes, I’ll revive them so she can use them again.

She gingerly sets the flowers aside, careful not to break any of them, then reaches in for the next thing.

“I wrote this letter,” she says as her eyes fill with tears. The envelope is yellowed with age and sealed with wax.

“You should read it.”

“Before I do, I need to clarify that when I stowed this all away, I didn’t know that we’d ever be here again.”

“Of course, not. We’ve lived all over the world, and each rebirth was random in time. Sometimes, it was only a few years later. Others, a hundred years passed before we were born again.”

“Exactly. So, I didn’t put these in the wall thinking that I’d find them again later. Everything in this box just meant the world to me, and I didn’t want them to be someone else’s.”

“I understand, a stór mo chroí.”

“Before I read the letter, look at this.” She pulls out a tiny pair of shoes from the box and gives me a watery smile. “Her shoes.”

“So tiny.”

She sets the footwear beside her flowers, then opens the seal on the envelope.

“I’m nervous. I don’t remember what this says.” She unfolds the paper and clears her throat.

“Dear Lucien,

With your unexpected passing, I know that it won’t be long before my life will also be finished. At least, this time around. I know I’ll see you again soon, but the unknown of how long that might be leaves me with an unyielding ache in my chest. I long to hear your voice, to feel your strong arms around me, just once more.

Our daughter has gone to live with your parents. She’s happy out on the farm with the animals and her very own puppy. They’ve promised me that they will teach her our ways and make sure she knows how very much we both love her.

I’m spending these last days in our house, committing every moment here to memory with the hopes that those memories will follow me through to the next lifetime, wherever that may be. Each life with you is precious, a mhuirnín, but this one was extra-special. I was convinced that this would be the time we would grow old together, enjoy our children and grandchildren, and live a somewhat normal life.