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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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What wonderful dreams we had – #fridayfiction
Ah, what wonderful dreams we had. He promised that one day we would see Paris, visit the pyramids and toss coins into the Fountain of Trevi. There were times when I would rest my head in his lap and close my eyes as he spoke of how we’d stroll through the shops then stop at a patisserie for a warm croissant and cup of hot chocolate. Listening to Edward tell of it, I felt like we were already there.
Lord God, those were happy days. That kind of happiness is something that needs to be remembered. If you start forgetting, it dies and you’re left with just the misery of what is instead of the joy of what was.
I wallowed in such misery for almost two years; then Edward told me to start remembering the good times and close out the tragedy that came after them. It’s not your fault, he said, and smiled with those blue eyes of his sparkling like stars. I heard his voice clear as a bell, but the moment I reached out for him he vanished into thin air. For weeks I wondered if it was the sadness making me crazy. But when I got to thinking that, I’d go back to the loft. Up there things made more sense and good memories came easier.