Page 33 of Haunted Eclipse

“What are you doing today?” she asked, spearing three pancakes and dropping them on her plate.

I scooped some scrambled eggs and four sausage links onto my plate, then added two pancakes, and drowned them in butter and syrup.

“Well, I’m due over at Brenda’s house at one. She doesn’t live that far away, so I’m going to chance it. And tonight’s the Midnight Hour Social Club mixer. Crystal and I are supposed to meet up there. We’ll see if they’re still holding it before we go. The snow’s really coming down out there. For once, the forecast was right on.”

Astra glanced out the window next to the booth. “Yeah, it’s going to pile up today. I can feel it. The earth is settling in for a long winter. La Niña can wreak havoc in the Pacific Northwest. They may say next week will be warmer, but there’s going to be enough snow that I’m not betting it will go away for a week or so.”

“What’s your itinerary for the day?” I added a couple more sausages to my plate.

“I thought that I’d start making some plans, since you’ve decided to stay. I want to clear out my sewing room so you can have a home office, too. So, the ritual room stays, but that still leaves the guest room, and I can double up with my sewing supplies in there—that’s not a problem.”

Astra loved to sew and quilt.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to take away your craft room.” I finished eating and pushed back my plate, lingering over the mocha.

“All we really need in the guest room is the bed and a small dresser. The rest of the space should fit my crafting cabinet, sewing machine and work table.” She beamed and I realized that she was truly happy that I was staying. It felt good, knowing that she’d missed me.

“Were you serious about Crystal and me joining the Dark Moon Society? Do you think they’d welcome us?” I still wasn’t sure, but the thought of having so many friends who had so many resources felt good, especially if I ever encountered anything else like Marcus’s case.

“As serious as I am about my own membership. I think you’d both do well. I’m going to talk to Nightshade later today about it.” She leaned back and rubbed her hand on the table. “So, what do you think about taking out this booth and putting in a kitchen table with chairs? We could expand the kitchen and make it twice this size.”

I frowned. “Extra space would be nice, but I always loved sitting in the booth when I was a kid. It always made me feel like we were going out to eat. But if you want more space in the kitchen though, I’m good with it.”

“Well, I would like space enough to do some canning in the autumn—the apple tree I planted five years ago is brimming with apples now. Well, during September. And I’m really getting into breadmaking lately. Prices are crazy, and while we can get great vegetables from the Farmer’s Market, winter’s pretty sparse, so I might want to expand the garden and can and freeze produce.” She paused, then added, “By the way, I had my check up last week. Everything looks good, and my bloodwork is fantastic.”

My aunt was barely middle-aged at 78, but this was the time when a lot of witches began to show some of those maladies most humans faced at around their late forties or early fifties.

“I’m glad. I suppose I should go in and get a check-up. What with the fire and moving, I missed my annual. I’d better find a doctor.” I stood, stretching. “It’s almost eleven. I’ve got an hour and a half before I need to head over to Brenda’s. You want some help getting started on the sewing room?” She was right in that it would help me to have an office, and it was right next to my bedroom. Maybe I could open it up, put in a door or an archway so that I could easily go between the two.

“That would be lovely, dear. There are several empty boxes in the attic. Would you be a lamb and get them?” she asked.

I nodded. Truth was, I didn’t like going into the attic. It had always made me nervous, ever since I was a little girl. Not because I was afraid there was anything spooky up there—my aunts kept the house well-warded, but it was a small, dark place and I never knew whether I’d find a bat or squirrels or spiders there.

In reality, I’d never run into anything that had been remotely dangerous. It had been at least seven years since I’d been up there—the last time was one year I came home for Thanksgiving, with Dan. We’d gone up in the attic to bring down the Yule ornaments for Astra.

After brunch, I went out into the garage and brought back the stepladder. I returned, set it up beneath the crawl space, then climbed up to open the crawlspace door. After I was back on the floor, I moved the stepladder and pulled on the chain which brought down the folding stairs.

Once I was in the attic, I flipped on the switch, flooding the A-frame shaped room with light. I glanced around. Astra had moved the decorations to the garage for easier access. Now, the only things left in the attic were several trunks, a few overflowing boxes, and some boxes that looked like they’d never been used.

I pushed against a long cobweb that was hanging from the ceiling, stepping over a couple boxes till I was standing at the trunks. I recognized them from my childhood. One had belonged to my mother. As I knelt by them, I brushed a layer of dust away. The trunks weren’t locked. One was engraved with my mother’s initials: MLS. Marika Leann Svensson. The one beside it had Astra’s initials on it, and the third had Sara’s initials.

I opened my mother’s trunk and sat down on the dusty floor beside it. I lifted out a framed picture of my mother and smiled. She must have been in her twenties. She’d been so pretty, with those sturdy Scandinavian cheekbones and fair skin and blonde hair. I traced her features on the glass, then set the picture aside. I’d ask Astra if she minded if I hung it in my room.

The next thing were several yearbooks from the Starlight Academy, back in Eerie. I opened one at random to see the inside cover covered with signatures. As I read the usual ‘have a great summer’ and ‘so glad we took botany together’ posts, I tried to imagine my mother when she was young and carefree.

I set the books to the side, then went through the rest of the trunk. There were a couple dolls—Barbie dolls, and a rabbit plushie that was so loved it was missing most of its fur. A diary that, when I peeked inside, was filled with poetry in my mother’s handwriting.

Other trinkets filled the rest of the trunk, including a small jewelry box and inside, there were a few little pieces of costume jewelry. I had my mother’s wedding ring. It had been on her finger when they recovered her body. I looked down at my own wedding ring, thinking about Dan, again. I packed up the trunk except for the picture and my mother’s diary filled with poetry, then carried them—along with the empty boxes—down the ladder.

Astra was waiting for me. I asked her if she minded if I kept the picture and the journal.

“Whatever you like, my dear. I should have given you the trunk earlier. It’s yours, rightfully.” Astra smiled at the picture. “I remember the day we took that picture. It was taken the day after your mother got engaged. That seems like so long ago…”

I carried the picture to my room and hung it on the wall. Then, I sat down at my vanity table and opened my jewelry box. I took out my mother’s wedding ring and tried it on my right hand ring finger. It fit perfectly. As I held it out, it felt right. I smiled. It felt good, having a part of my mother next to me. Then, I glanced at my own wedding ring. I tried to imagine my finger without it, and slowly began to take it off, but halfway through, I stopped and slid it back on.Not yet, I thought. Not yet.

Shortly before twelve-thirty,the snow was still falling. We now had at least four inches. Given we were due for five to seven inches, I had the feeling the prediction might fall short of the reality. I slid into my jacket, then picked up my keys, my portable-magic kit, and my purse. I tossed a couple protein bars into my purse, then headed for the door.

“I’m leaving,” I called to my aunt. “I’ll text you when I get there!”

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