Page 105 of Beautifully Wild

OnSaturday,Ihandmy mother a cup of coffee and wait for her to take a sip before announcing, “I’m moving into Yasmine’s apartment.”

She tilts her head, and for a moment, I see a hint of sadness in her expression. “When?”

“In a month or so.” I shrug. “After I save a little more to pay my share of the deposit and up-front rent.

“Honey, you don’t need to move out if you want to save for something important.”

I take a seat beside my mother on the balcony lounge overlooking the ocean. The esplanade is busy with people donning beanies and coats and walking their dogs. I snuggle my chin into the woolen scarf around my neck. “There is something I want to talk to you about. Besides saving to go on another holiday, I’m thinking about studying something different.”

“Really, love? What?”

“I always thought it would be architecture, but after my holiday, I’m considering a complete career change. Maybe nursing, although I’m undecided.”

Mum peers over the rim of her mug. Her expression is unreadable. “You know your grandmother was a nurse.”

I pull a face. “Your mum?” My mother was adopted, and her adoptive parents both died when she was in her early twenties.

“No. Ivy.”

“Gran was a nurse?”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about her, and it’s time I filled you in.” She stands and indicates for me to follow her inside. She leads me to her bedroom and their expansive walk-in closet, the décor in rose gold. She hands me her mug, then pulls out a small stepladder and reaches for a wooden box on a shelf. It’s the size of a shoebox. I place both mugs on the carpet near the wall, so I can take it from her before Mum steps to the floor.

The cedar wood is patchy where the color has faded, and there’s some flaking on the side. Still, it’s stunning. Four carved timber legs and three letters are embossed on the lid. Fancy swirls are cut into the corners like a frame surrounding the initials I.M.M.

Ivy Maisie Monteford.

“Albert had it made for Ivy,” Mum says. “It contains memories and some of her belongings. She asked me to give this to you on your twenty-fifth birthday.”

“Why then?”

“Most of us have a better understanding of ourselves by our mid-twenties and know what direction we want our lives to take.”

I nod. Even though my birthday is only a couple of months away, I’m aspiring toward personal growth. Only, I’m unsure if I am following the right path. “Am I allowed to see it now?”

“This is why your father has been stressing all year. It’s time I explain some things to you. You deserve to know what upset him, and perhaps it will help you to understand him better. I really hate seeing you both like this. You have always gotten on well. The stress isn’t good for him.”

“It’s because I did what he asked and never argued. Only I’m not sure if…” the back of my throat burns before I say it, “… if I want to keep working for the hotel.”

Mum places a hand on mine. “You’ll work it out. We all need a break from time to time.” She finds a key taped to the bottom of the box. “Shall we?” She wiggles the key until the old lock cooperates. Opening the lid slowly, we both peer in as though waiting to be surprised.

The first thing I pull out is a notepad or a diary with a faded tan leather cover and a tiny lock. I press the tarnished brass lock, but nothing happens.

“Your father hasn’t unlocked it, and we don’t know where the key is. He decided never to unlock it, believing some secrets should stay with his grandmother. I think he was afraid of what he might discover, and back then, he wouldn’t have coped if it dragged up sad memories.” Her eyes hold empathy and a touch of sadness.

“I understand.” I place the diary aside as there is much more to discover.

Underneath the diary is a pile of family photographs. I look closely at each one before passing it to Mum. “We looked so happy. Yet Faith tells me Gran had a history of depression. She never showed it around me.”

“Well, you were her favorite,” she says with a sigh.

“I never noticed and played on it. I mean, if it’s what you’re implying by this box being left to me…”

“She saw something in you when you were born that Faith and Will never had. She blessed you when she came to the hospital to visit you as a newborn.”

“Blessed me?”

Mum lifts the photos and takes out a photo frame, a lock of blonde hair, and an old brush. “Over time, most of her friends stopped talking to her… said she was a witch.”

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