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The clock has already struck one – #fridayfiction

By Bette Lee Crosby / September 11, 2015

The clock has already struck one – #fridayfiction The clock has already struck one when Michael kisses Annie goodnight and disappears down the hall. Once he is gone, she pulls her suitcase from beneath the bed and starts to pack. Tomorrow she will leave from the office rather than return home. Already the excitement of revisiting Memory House is running through her brain. She thinks of the bicycle. She remembers how it felt when she touched the handlebar; the boy was the.....

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Annie soaks up every word – #fridayfiction

Annie soaks up every word – #fridayfiction As Annie is thinking, Ophelia moves to another story. This one is about the staircase leading to the loft. “It took Edward three months to finish it,” she says. “Before we had the staircase I had to pull down those rickety attic steps to get up there.” She hesitates a moment then with a sad smile adds, “When I told Edward I didn’t feel safe going up and down those wobbly steps, he started building that staircase the .....

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I’d love to see the loft – #fridayfiction

I’d love to see the loft – #fridayfiction Annie sighs. “How wonderful.” She is remembering the diamond earrings, and they are a poor comparison to the skylight Ophelia has described. “I’d love to see the loft,” she says. The thought of sharing her greatest treasure pleases Ophelia. She rises from her chair and motions for Annie to follow. Ophelia leads the way up the staircase. Although she is slow, it somehow seems more fitting that she cro.....

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Edward would laugh and say it’s a surprise – #fridayfiction

Edward would laugh and say it’s a surprise – #fridayfiction “A swing for the back porch?” she’d say. “A hope chest? A picnic table?” Each time Edward would laugh and say only that it was a surprise. Back then the loft was simply an attic, a place with bare rafters that framed the house and held up the roof. The only way to get up there was a folding staircase that disappeared into the ceiling when it was not being used. A few sheets of plywood surr.....

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I could never let a stranger sleep in the loft – #fridayfiction

I could never let a stranger sleep in the loft – #fridayfiction Ophelia assures Annie the room will be available. “I seldom have visitors for both rooms.” “Then why sleep in the upstairs loft?” Annie asks. “Wouldn’t it be easier on your leg to use one of the downstairs rooms?” “I suppose it would be,” Ophelia answers, but her words carry no promise of change. Annie reasons it is the thought of losing the income from the second room that wo.....

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The years weigh on her like a heavy overcoat – #fridayfiction

The years weigh on her like a heavy overcoat – #fridayfiction The years weigh on her like a heavy overcoat, and Ophelia slowly climbs the stairs to the loft. She knows where she’ll find the Bible; it is in the top drawer of the chest that Edward brought from their first apartment. The chest is the only piece of that furniture Ophelia still has, and it is packed full of memories— some hers and some belonging to other people. Each object is kept in a separate drawer le.....

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What wonderful dreams we had – #fridayfiction

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 happ.....

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The loft is a place where – #fridayfiction

The loft is a place where – #fridayfiction After Ophelia snaps the kitchen light off, she walks to the back hall and listens for sounds of sleep from the girl’s room. In the still of night she can hear most anything— grass growing, a cloud moving and, yes, even the sound of her new guest dreaming. Once she hears the soft whisper of sleep she turns and starts toward the staircase. She takes the stairs one at a time, slowly moving up and onto each step, first with her.....

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Annie thinks of nothing but the library – #fridayfiction

Annie thinks of nothing but the library – #fridayfiction For five days Annie thinks of nothing but the library. Twice she drives into Langley just to visit it again. On the second trip she brings Ophelia, and they stroll arm in arm through the stacks. Whispering as if it were a cardinal sin to speak loudly, she asks, “Do you feel the magic of this place?” Ophelia nods, but she knows Annie feels something that she does not. As they walk Annie touches .....

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I knocked but I guess you didn’t hear – #fridayfiction

I knocked but I guess you didn’t hear – #fridayfiction On Thursday of the following week a moving van pulls into the driveway of Memory House and unloads the furniture from Oliver’s townhouse. Annie points to the precise spot where every item is to be placed and by early afternoon the house is exactly as she imagined it. Well perhaps not exactly. There are still odds and ends to be done—unpack the boxes, set books on the shelves, hang the curtains, and find a s.....

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The only game I know is pinochle – #fridayfiction

The only game I know is pinochle – #fridayfiction “I doubt that,” she laughs. “The only game I know is pinochle and maybe a smidgen of bridge.” “But you’re a natural,” Sam says. “I can tell.” Before he has finished showing his album, Pauline arrives. She’s got pictures of pets—dogs, cats and even a small monkey. She shoves the photo of a sad eyed beagle in front of Ophelia and says, “This is Buster, he belongs to Tess Abrams, you’re going .....

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Oliver has wanted to make love to her – #fridayfiction

Oliver has wanted to make love to her – #fridayfiction Oliver has said nothing about his plan, but for the past two days he has thought about little else. Not because he minds the daily commute to Wyattsville; but because the door to the other bedroom is less than three feet from the door to their room. As much as he cares for Ophelia, that’s too close for comfort. Since the day Annie first appeared on his doorstep, Oliver has wanted to make love to her—not in a cau.....

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For each moment of happiness – #fictionfriday

For each moment of happiness – #fictionfriday They say that somewhere far beyond what mortals see there is a scale of life; for each moment of happiness, a stone of sorrow is dropped onto the scale. When the Keeper of the Scale saw that Annie Cross’s life had been weighted with sorrow for far too long he selected a stone the color of an early morning sunrise. It was round, worn smooth and without jagged edges. He gave a smile of satisfaction then dropped the stone onto.....

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