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IS IT POSSIBLE FOR A MEMORY TO OUTLIVE ITS OWNER?
Ophelia Browne knows the answer is yes. She knows because she’s been granted the unique gift of finding and caring for forgotten memories. But now she’s nearing ninety, and Browne women seldom live beyond such an age.
Before time runs out Ophelia must find her successor…someone who can carry forth the gift and keep the memories from fading. When broken-hearted Annie Cross shows up on the doorstep of The Memory House Bed and Breakfast, Ophelia knows she is the one.
As the two women sip dandelion tea and share stories, Annie begins to uncover new memories. Ugly ones. Ones buried deep enough to hide the scars. Excitement turns to fear when a thread of violence begins to unravel and Ophelia knows they have gone too far.
Literary Awards for Memory House –
FAPA President’s Book Award
Praise for Memory House –
“A magical book of memories, treasures and stories from a Masterful Southern Storyteller…” Judith D. Collins, top 1000 Reviewer
“Magical realism that will enchant…” Heidi, Rainy Day Ramblings
“Wonderful, heartwarming story of love and life…” Sherry Fundin, Reviewer
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For months I’d spend all afternoon – #fridayfiction
“Opie,” he said, “it’s time to start living again.”
Opie is what he used to call me. Nobody but Edward ever used that name, so I knew for sure it was him. Anyway, I would’ve recognized his voice no matter where it came from.
At first it was scary, hearing a voice from out of nowhere, but then I started listening. With Edward’s help I began remembering all the good things that happened right there in that room. All the dreams we had and the plans we’d made. It was sad that we didn’t have time enough to do all those things, but I still had memories of the fun we’d had just planning. That’s more than some people ever get.
That same day I put a new bulb in the lamp, changed the sheets and plumped the pillows. It felt like I was getting rid of the death in the room and making a place for good memories to settle in. And in time that’s what happened.
For months I’d spend all afternoon sitting up there, waiting to hear Edward’s voice again. I never did hear it as clear as I did that day, but I could always sense he was there, still looking after me.
The following spring I moved all my things up to the loft and started renting out the downstairs bedrooms.
It was about a year or so later when I learned I could hold things in my hand and bring back memories of Edward; then I discovered he wasn’t the only one who’d left sweet memories behind.
The day I found the Bible that belonged to Livonia Lannigan, I knew there’d be more. Unlike people, memories don’t die. They latch onto something and wait for a new person to come along and claim them.