Title: The Welcome Sign
Author: Barbara Jean Weber
Publisher: BookBaby
Publication Date: July 1, 2024
Pages: 218
Genre: Fantasy/Middle Grade/YA
Formats: Paperback, Kindle
When 10-year-old Molly Parnell’s
grandmother mysteriously disappears she and her mother travel to Cape
Cod to take ownership of the house they inherited and find out answers
about the sudden disappearance. But what they discover could be more
dangerous and life changing than they ever imaged. Molly and her mother
find a beautiful mermaid welcome sign in the attic and place it on the
front door. Unusual things start to happen and they are flooded with
visitors who claim they knew the grandmother. The true powers behind
the mysterious sign are revealed as Molly learns her grandmother was
part of a secret organization working to keep balance between the
magical realm and the real world. The magical realms placed an invisible
veil of secrecy over the world to hide their true identities from the
human world but allowing them to live among them in secret. An angry
rebel group of magical beings, tired of living in hiding is tearing down
and destroying the magical cloaking fabric between the two worlds. If
they are not stopped the magical realm will no longer be safe from the
world. As Molly and her mom embark on a dangerous and magical adventure
throughout the magical realms to help stop the rebels, she learns of
her own magical powers and her strong family heritage connected to the
welcome sign. Along the way, she teams up with new magical friends
helping to keep the realm of magic safe from the eyes of the world and
discovers that her grandmother was right all along. The world she
thought she knew no longer exists, but an amazing world of magic woven
into their world has always been hiding in plain sight.
The Welcome Sign is available at Amazon.
First Chapter:
Popular Bluff
NINE-YEAR-OLD
MOLLY PARMELL, THE ADVENTUROUS, BROWN haired girl, sat quietly on her
bed as her cat, Cuddles, sat purring in her lap. Molly adjusted her
braids, shivered, and pulled her cozy pink sweater closer around her
shoulders. She looked lovingly down at her orange tabby cat and
scratched his head. The roof creaked and groaned loudly from the gusty
winds of the storm, and Molly cringed, thinking the roof might actually
blow off the house. A low rumble of thunder boomed in the distance, and
Molly glanced up as a continuous “drip, drip, drip” noise splashed into a
half-full pan of water in the corner of her room. Huge flashes of
lightning lit up the room, creating odd shadows over the walls. The
falling rain created thunderous pounding sounds on the roof as it poured
relentlessly from the sky. The creaky old house was cold and drafty,
and the chill in Molly’s room hovered in the air like a thick smoke.
Molly rubbed her arms and shivered again. She hated this creepy old
house and couldn’t wait until they could move into one of their own.
It was a
cold and stormy October day in the town of Popular Bluff, Missouri.
Popular Bluff was set among the majestic foothills of the Ozark
mountains, which were replete with spring-fed streams and breathtaking
lakes. It was a great place for fun outdoor activities; however, there
wasn’t much to do there on cold rainy days. Molly didn’t particularly
enjoy these chilly fall days when the sky was dark and cloudy and the
trees were losing leaves. The house was dark, eerie, and very creepy.
Molly looked thoughtfully out the window at the constant downpour. The
few leaves that still clung to their branches were covered in the
bright, fiery shades of yellow, orange, and red. Fall at the Parmell
house meant that the fireplace was ablaze with the warm glow of
firewood, and Molly and her mom would devour large mugs of hot chocolate
with extra-big
marshmallows.
In front of the fireplace was the only real warm spot in the house on
dreary days like this. Molly sat back with a sigh, glanced around her
bedroom, and frowned at her nippy surroundings.
Molly
and her mother rented the rundown modern style, two-story house with a
large front porch. It needed a fair bit of work, but it had been
available and cheap. It had been almost five years since the horrible
car accident that had taken Molly’s dad, Michael Parmell.
He’d
been on a business trip when the fateful accident claimed his life.
Molly and her mom missed him terribly but thought of him often. There
were photos of them as a family throughout the house.
After
the funeral expenses had been paid, this leaky old house was all they’d
been able to afford. It was very drafty and needed a new paint job
inside and out, new carpeting throughout, mending on the porch railings,
multiple patches in the ancient roof, and a real fence with a working
gate. The fence right now consisted of five rickety and warped old
stakes attached with two cross stakes that leaned over so far that any
day now they’d be resting comfortably on the ground. The railing on the
staircase was loose, and the stairs were warped and weak. The roof
leaked everywhere, and the house was falling apart from corner to
corner. On rainy days like this, buckets, pans, and anything that could
hold water littered the floor throughout the house, catching the
cascading water as it dripped off the ceiling.
Their
landlord, Mr. Garreth Simmons, was a nice man in his mid sixties and had
been a stable and solid part of their lives for the past
four-and-a-half years. Molly had lost her real dad when she was only
five years old. Mr. Simmons was more like a father figure to her than a
landlord, really. He would spend lots of time telling her wonderful
stories
of his adventurous youth and teaching her all sorts of new things,
explaining how and why certain gizmos worked, and answering lots of
life’s little questions. The three of them were a real family, and Molly
knew she’d miss seeing Mr. Simmons regularly if they moved, but the
house was driving her crazy.
Due to
the extensive repairs that were needed, Mr. Simmons had shown leniency
and charged Angela and Molly an exceptionally generous and affordable
rent each month. In fact, it was hardly any money at all. Angela had
insisted that he take more, but he’d refused. The best she could do was
offer him hearty home-cooked meals several times a week. Mr. Simmons
gladly accepted that offer at least three nights a week. He had planned
on tearing down the old structure but recognized a family in need. He
wasn’t a good repairman, however, so the damages to the house were slow
to get repaired. Although the house needed a great deal of help, it was
home for Molly, at least until they could afford to buy a home of their
own. She’d miss sweet Mr. Simmons but just couldn’t wait to move out of
this dreary, shabby place.
Whenever
Molly got frustrated with her decrepit surroundings, she’d think back
to the fun-filled summers she and her mom had spent with her grandmother
on Cape Cod. Every spring, Molly would get excited as she thought about
the long trip they’d be making in a few months over to the Cape. Early
in the summer, Molly and her mom would drive two hours to the nearest
airport in Memphis, Tennessee, and board the airplane for the seven-hour
flight to the Barnstable Muniboardman/Polando Field Airport in Hyannis,
Maine.
They
would spend several weeks with her grandmother in the beautiful town of
Barnstable, soaking in the salty sea air and having endless adventures.
There were always wonderful new things to do and see when she went to
visit her grandmother.
Grammas’
house was heaven for Molly. It was a large, white, two story,
Victorian-style house with a dark-green trim all around the windows and
doors. There was always something new to discover and explore in that
huge house; new nooks and crannies she’d never found before. A long,
covered porch wrapped all around the house, lending itself to a fabulous
view of the ocean in the distance.
On the
second level was Molly’s bedroom, with a door that opened onto a smaller
covered porch. The room was decorated with delicate little seashell
patterns on the wall trim just above the chair railing two feet off the
floor. The smoky-white curtains had sandy-colored, embroidered shell
patterns scattered here and there on the fabric. Several glass bowls sat
on the old dresser by the wall, filled with brightly colored seashells.
Over the dresser hung a large mirror with a crooked tilt to one side.
There
was a large seashell-shaped lamp by the bed, the paint chipping off on
both sides. Her mom’s room was right next door and was filled with
dashes of blues and greens. A large lighthouse lamp sat on the bedside
table. Molly loved turning it on and off and watching the lighthouse
light up at night. Her mom’s room had several lighthouse-shaped candles
and a big ship’s steering wheel on the wall above the bed.
Gramma’s
room was downstairs, next to the staircase, and opened up onto a small
deck overlooking the ocean. Her room was decorated in purples and pinks.
Several elegantly painted fish and sea creature wall hangings covered
the walls. A few large and
impressive-looking
shells were also showcased in this room. From every window in the house
there was a spectacular view of the ocean. The peaceful, melodious
music of the waves crashing on the shore was soothing and relaxing.
Molly always looked forward to
hours of staring out at the sea with her mom and grandmother.
Molly’s
favorite thing about her grandmother’s house was the alluring
mermaid/merman statue that sat on a side table in the living room. The
elaborate statue featured an exotic mermaid with long, brown, flowing
hair. She was draped in different shades and shapes of green seaweed.
Pearls and shells were set elegantly in her hair. A
handsome
young merman swam next to her. He was powerfully built and had long,
brown hair that was carved to look like it was suspended in the ocean.
The aquatic beings were glancing happily at each other. Both had a hand
placed on an intricately carved, purple colored trident. The whole
statue stood about two feet tall and was
painted
to look realistic. Every line, every detail, was perfectly crafted,
shaped, and painted. The tails were a shiny blue-green color, inlayed
here and there with mother of pearl, and each shiny scale was carved to
look like the real thing. The whole statue
seemed
to be covered in a light pearlesque coating and shimmered as you passed
it. At the base of the statue were several large, colorful,
coral-covered rocks made to look as if they had come right from the
bottom of the ocean. Molly had half expected to see real
fish
swimming up from the reef. A small hole was cut into the head of the
trident, about the size of a large marble. Molly remembered her
grandmother saying that she had lost the marble some years before but
had decided to keep the statue anyway. Molly had been
truly
mesmerized and intrigued by the sculpture because it was so realistic
and appeared to be a miniature version of real merfolk. Molly loved
daydreaming about the undersea world and imagined these two merfolk as
her guides to the watery realm.
The view
of the ocean from Molly’s porch was breathtaking, and she loved keeping
the windows of the guestroom open so she could hear the gentle
splashing of the waves on the shore and feel the cool ocean breezes on
her face. A beautiful rocky area just off to one side held massive
pillars of rock formations. Molly imagined merfolk from the depths of
the sea coming to play there in the crashing waves at night when the
shoreline was dark and the land dwellers slumbered.
Gramma
had sand and sea glass in pretty containers; fishing floaters arranged
on the table; dried, woven seaweed baskets filled with seashells; and a
fishing net hung delicately on the wall surrounded by all kinds of
hand-painted sea-creature decorations.
She had
several giant clamshells, delicate corals, and other shells of enormous
size displayed in a cabinet. There were sea objects everywhere you
looked; there were even sea-creature-shaped soaps in the bathrooms.
Gramma loved everything about the sea and proudly displayed that love in
every corner of her house. Molly swore that the old sea chest in the
living room was a real pirate treasure chest brought up from the bottom
of the sea.
Barnstable
was a magical place, and every summer Molly enjoyed beachcombing with
her gramma and mom while listening to her gramma’s fanciful stories
about the sea. Molly never fully understood why her mom had moved away
from Cape Cod. Her mom didn’t like talking about her move from the Cape,
but Molly hoped that one day they could live much closer to her gramma.
Molly sighed happily at the thought that her gramma would be coming for
Christmas in a few months and then it wouldn’t be long before summer
was here again and they’d be off to the cape.
Molly
was jolted out of her dreamy state as another flash of lightning
streaked through the room. She had just finished her homework and was
getting ready take her sleepy cat downstairs to curl up by the fire and
persuade her mom to make more of that special drink. It was Saturday
afternoon and most of her friends were off doing things with their
families, but she was content to spend a lazy day with her mom, wrapped
in a warm blanket in front of the fire, listening to the pelting tink of
the rain on the roof. Tink!
Tink! Tink!
Angela
Parmell, her long dark hair pulled back into a long ponytail, sat in the
den, writing and addressing the bills. When she’d finished the stack of
bills, she set the envelopes on the corner of the desk, sat back, and
sighed thoughtfully. Angela glanced out the window at the torrential
downpour. Lightning flashed throughout the room, and the thunder shook
the windows. The sound of the rain on the roof was almost deafening by
this time. She stared for several moments at the pans on the floor
filling up with water and shook her head. “We really need to find a
better place.” She exhaled. Angela wondered if she should venture out
into that pouring rain to the mailbox and mail the bills right away or
wait until later.
“Hmmmm,”
she thought. She’d have to go check the fireplace in the living room
and add more wood in a few minutes. Angela looked outside again, tugged
on the neck of her turtleneck sweater, and decided to mail them when the
rain slowed down a bit. “Molly will be coming down soon for a refill on
hot chocolate,” she thought and walked to the kitchen. She heard a
faint “meow” from the base of the stairs as she put water in the teapot
and set it on the stove.
“Come
here, Cuddles,” she called. “Where is that Molly girl of mine?” she
asked, reaching down to pet the cat as it entered the kitchen sleepily.
“She’ll be wanting more hot chocolate, I s’pose.” She smiled and sighed
deeply. Angela bent down and picked up a full bucket of water from the
kitchen floor and dumped it out in the sink, replacing it under the
drips from the ceiling.
The
telephone rang from the den. Angela reached down to pet the cat one more
time as she brushed past her on her way to answer the phone. “Yes,
hello. Oh, thank you. Yes, we’re both doing fine. There’s an awful lot
of water, but we’re using pans and buckets, and that seems to be
working. The power is still on, thankfully. You are so nice for checking
up on us. Okay. Yeah, sure. You have a good day, too. We’ll call if we
need anything. Thanks so much.” Angela smiled and set the phone back on
the receiver. It was nice Mr. Simmons, checking in during the storm to
see if they were okay. He was such a kind and generous man with a heart
of gold. He always came by or called to make sure they were doing okay
or if they needed anything. They had had a break-in just a few nights
before.
Nothing
was missing, and it seemed unusual that the criminals hadn’t taken
anything. The police speculated that they’d been looking for something
specific and had left when they couldn’t find it. The house was a mess,
but they had restored order in a short time. Mr. Simmons had been there
to help. Everyone was still a little on edge, and it was comforting to
know Mr. Simmons was close by, watching out for them. He’d be coming for
dinner tomorrow night, and they always enjoyed their evenings with him
around. Angela knew it would be hard on all of them when they left. Mr.
Simmons had become such an important part of their lives. It would be
hard to leave.
Molly
came bounding down the stairs with a huge mug in her hand. “Mom? Mom,
who called? Where are you? Can I have more hot chocolate, Mom? With lots
of extra marshmallows?”
“Sure,
honey! I’m here in the kitchen,” Angela replied, still petting Cuddles.
“That was Mr. Simmons on the phone, just checking in on us. He wanted to
make sure we were both doing okay during this storm. Well, I see that
Cuddles beat you down here this time. Molly, do ya think she’d like some
hot chocolate, too?” They both laughed.
“Cats don’t drink hot chocolate, Mom! You’re being silly!”
“Well
maybe they don’t, but she might eat some of those marshmallow,” Angela
remarked. Angela fixed two hot chocolates with the hot water from the
teapot and handed one to Molly.
“Careful,
honey. It’s hot. Here come the marshmallows,” Angela said as she
plopped several big, puffy marshmallows into Molly’s mug.
“Hey,
Mom, let’s go sit by the fire and watch the storm!” she said as she
headed for the living room. Molly picked up a full pan of water from the
living room, emptied it in the kitchen sink, and replaced it. She led
the way to the living room again and collapsed onto the couch, followed
closely by her mom. They sat there for several minutes, just listening
to the rain and sipping their drinks.
The
lightning and thunder continued to distract them. Angela set her mug on
the coffee table, stood up, and went to add more wood to the fire. It
sparked and sputtered as she sat back down on the couch next to her
daughter.
“Don’t
you just hate days like this, Mom? All this water with this leaky roof.
Pretty soon we’re gonna need a boat.” Molly sighed.
“There’s nothin’ ta do on days like this . . . I guess we just flop on
the couch and listen to the rain. I hope the house doesn’t float away.”
“Yeah.”
Angela exhaled as she glanced out the window. “Me too … You know, I’m
thinking that a boat wouldn’t be a bad investment right now.” She
smiled. The rain was coming down harder than earlier in the day, and she
wondered if the gutters would overflow with all the extra rainwater.
Cuddles jumped on the couch and curled up between Molly and Angela.
“Mom, do
you think the roof will blow off with all of this wind? I don’t think
we have enough pans and buckets for all this water.”
“Don’t
worry, honey. I don’t think the roof will blow off even in this storm,
and we’ll just have to keep emptying the buckets and pans. We may have
some water spillage, but it won’t be too bad.” Angela said, petting the
cat. “It’s a little drafty in here, but with the fire going, we’ll be
fine.” She smiled.
“I don’t
like these big storms and this creepy house with the creaky roof.
Listen to that howling wind, Mom.” Molly frowned at her mom. “I don’t
like it.”
Angela
put her arm around her daughter, pulling her in close. “It’s just wind
and rain, honey. We might want to think about getting a boat, though.”
She chuckled.
“Mom!”
Molly giggled. “We’re both good swimmers, but Cuddles might need a raft
or something.” Angela hugged her daughter tightly and then got up to
empty another full pan of water. She emptied it in the kitchen and then
came back in to the living room. “Hey, Mom.”
Molly
turned toward her mom as she entered the room. The wind was howling and
whistling around the porch. “Please don’t get mad,” she said, petting
the cat as it purred loudly, “but why can’t we go live with Gramma in
her big house? There’s tons of room there, and then we can see her all
the time.”
“Honey,
your grandmother has better things to do than to have us hanging around
all the time. Don’t worry, we’ll get a place of our own soon.”
“Mom, why don’t you like living at Cape Cod anyway?” Molly glanced back at her mom.
Angela sighed loudly and shook her head. “It’s complicated. It’s not that I don’t like living at the Cape.”
“But you moved away really early on—when you were old enough. . . that’s what Gramma said,” Molly retorted accusingly.
“Honey, you have to understand something.” She exhaled noisily.
“Your
grandmother and I didn’t always see eye to eye on things. I just needed
to get away, have my own life. Get away from that area and live on my
own. That’s all.”
“Hmmmm.”
Molly didn’t seem convinced that her mom was telling her the whole
story and stared back at the fireplace. “Was it because you and Gramma
kept fighting?”
“Well,
that did put a strain on our relationship, but I just needed time away.
Time on my own,” Angela responded without hesitation.
“What did you fight about?
“Honey,
why all these questions? We’ve had this talk before. Those are grown up
things. Okay, just between me and your grandmother. It’s nothing for you
to worry about.” Angela got up and stoked the fire, pushing a piece of
half-burned wood farther into it.
“Okay,
okay. I just hate to see you and Gramma angry at each other. I want this
Christmas to be a time when you two get along the whole time.” Molly
got up, picked up a full pan of water from the floor, and walked into
the kitchen with it. As she poured it out in the sink, she glanced back
in to the living room.
“Tell ya
what. I’ll make you a deal,” Angela raised her voice so that Molly
could hear her from the kitchen. “You don’t worry about any of it, and
I’ll do my best not to fight with Gramma . . . but just for you, okay?”
Angela hugged her daughter as she came back into the room.
“Okay . .
. but some day I’m going to make sure you tell me all about it.” Molly
responded flippantly. “Mom, will you PLEEEASE please- please-PLEEEEASE
tell me one of the stories that Gramma used to tell you when you were my
age? One of the true ones?”
Molly
asked, looking hopefully over at her mom. She strolled over to the
corner of the living room and placed the pan back on the floor under the
drip.
“Molly!” Angela gasped in a frustrated tone. “Gramma’s stories?
OOOOH, I thought we talked about this! Those stories are just . . . ,”
Angela
paused with a big sigh, “. . . just kooky, made up things that your
loony old grandma wasted her time on. None of those crazy tales are
true! None of them! I didn’t believe the stories back then, and I don’t
believe them now . . . and you shouldn’t either. I want your feet
planted firmly on the ground and not up in the clouds with your Gramma.
Her stories are just make believe. Just make believe! Got it?”
“But
Moooom,” Molly whined. “They sound so real . . . don’t worry, I know
they are make believe, but I still want to hear one,” she pleaded.
Angela sighed, breathed deeply, and shook her head slowly.
“Besides, what if they are real?” Angela threw Molly a disgusted glare.
“Well,
okay. This is against my better judgment,” Angela whispered, “but have I
ever told you about the legend?” Angela raised her eyebrows in a
playful manner.
“Legend?”
Molly sat up excitedly. “You never mentioned anything about a legend!
What is it? Come on, Mom, tell me!” Molly’s eyes sparkled as she
squealed her delight at hearing a new tale.
“Well,”
Angela started, looking around the room. “Shhhh, we can’t say any of
this too loudly. You never know who might be listening.” She giggled and
hugged her daughter.
“Mom, come on! I can’t stand the waiting! JUST TELL ME THE STORY!”
“Okay.
Okay. Here goes. The legend goes something like this . . . apparently a
long, long time ago, an alliance was created between the human world and
the water world. A magical portal was created for true believers to
cross between the two realms. It was said that as a gift, a perfectly
rounded black pearl was presented to the chosen true believer. It was
believed that this special gift came directly from the ruler of the
ocean. This incredible pearl was said to be the key to opening the
doorway between the two worlds. Without the magical pearl, the door
would remain closed forever. Spooky stuff, huh, honey?”
“WOW! Mom, that was great! What else do you know about the legend?”
“Nothing,
really. Just that only a true believer could open the doorway and cross
into the other realm. Hey, it’s all silly nonsense, anyway . . .
Everyone in town searched endlessly for the doorway and the pearl.
Nothing was ever found . . . it was just a silly story to get tourists
interested in coming to the Cape. That’s all. Our town did end up
selling a ton of pearls to tourists, though.” Angela shrugged.
“Did you ever look for the REAL pearl, Mom?” Molly asked in a high-pitched tone.
“Yes, a
bunch of us did . . .” She nodded. “Come to think of it . . . I was just
about your age. We never found anything though.” She frowned. “Like I
said, kiddo . . . it was just a fun story to tell kids and tourists.”
Molly
sighed thoughtfully. “I don’t know, Mom . . . there’s a lot of stuff
about that town, and the stories Gramma told about that don’t seem so
silly.”
Changing
the subject quickly, Angela stated, “Hey, when I talked to your grandma
a couple of days ago, she said that she was really looking forward to
seeing us for Christmas. Not long now, just a few months!” Angela
grinned at Molly.
“She
didn’t sound kooky on the phone, did she? I’m glad that we’ll be seeing
her for Christmas even though you two always seem to be fighting about
stuff.” Molly folded her arms and frowned. “I don’t like it when you
fight. But happily, it’s only two months away, and I can’t wait to see
her. YEAH!” Molly jumped off the couch and threw her arms in the air
with an excited cheer. “Mom, when I talked with her, she said that she
had something really important to tell us over Christmas. What do you
think it is?”
Angela
tilted her head thoughtfully to one side, took hold of her daughter’s
hand, and shrugged. “I don’t know what the important thing is that
Gramma wants to tell us, honey. But if she says it’s important, you KNOW
it’s got to be really good. We’ll just have to wait until we see her to
find out. Hey kiddo, I know your grandma and I argue a lot, but we are
STILL family, and we STILL love each other. That will never change. I’m
glad we’ll be seeing her for Christmas, too.”
“Mom, do you think Gramma will have some more stories for me? About those magical creatures again?” Angela sighed happily.
“Yes, honey, if I know your grandma, she’s sure to have plenty of outlandish tales to tell you.” She sighed loudly.
“Sometimes
I think that they ARE real, Mom, and that Gramma really HAS done those
things she talks about. How come she talks like she’s really done them
and really knows all about those magical creatures? Did she ever tell
you these stories? Did you ever believe them?”
“Oh,
honey,” Angela glanced at the fire and sighed deeply. “Your grandma.”
She sighed. “Uh, your grandma has a very vivid imagination. When I was
growing up, your grandma told me all kinds of fanciful and wondrous
stories of powerful magic, magical creatures, and enchantments. She wove
fascinating tales and told them just like they were real. She was a
real believer. I believed her, too; for a while at least.” Angela turned
toward Molly and rested her hands on Molly’s. “Her stories were fun and
full of magic. It was fun to believe in them. Grandma made the mundane
world around me seem magical.” Angela snickered. “She was a bit kooky, I
think, but she had a way of taking a normal, ordinary day and turning
it into something exciting. It was never dull growing up with her as a
mom.” She sighed, looking up at her daughter. “I believed her for a
while; in fact, I believed her for quite a long time. You should have
fun listening to her stories. I don’t ever want to take that away from
you, but don’t think for ONE minute that they are real. I learned the
hard way that it was all make believe. All of it, and I was crushed.”
Angela
sighed deeply and stood up. She walked over to the fireplace and leaned
against the mantel. She turned slowly toward Molly, who was intently
staring at her mom, fixated on her every word.
“Was that when you and Gramma started fighting? Because you stopped believing?” Molly asked softly.
“Yeah, I
think it was. Molly, I tried to believe. I wanted to believe. I wanted
so badly to see the things she did, so I imaged that I could. It was
wonderful for a while, but then one day, when I was about your age, I
realized I had grown up and just didn’t see them anymore.” Angela placed
another log on the fire and prodded it with the fire poker. “Where she
saw vast herds of unicorns and centaurs, I only saw horses and cows.
Where she saw flying dragons and fairies, I saw ordinary birds and
butterflies. Molly, I don’t know if your grandma is crazy or not, but
she can tell stories very well. I always thought that, with all of her
tales of magic, she should havewritten children stories.” Angela
chuckled and lowered her head.
“Enjoy
her stories, but remember that they are just make believe, okay?” Molly
nodded quickly. “Honey, if you know and understand this, then you will
never be disappointed, never! Don’t make my mistake by thinking magic is
real. It’s ALL make believe. Horses REALLY are JUST horses, and
butterflies REALLY are JUST butterflies.”
“Mom,
what about the merfolk?” Molly stood up and hugged her mom. “Living on
Cape Cod, you must’ve seen some of them for sure! Grandma talks mostly
of them . . . did you see any living that close to the ocean?” Angela
chuckled again and hugged her daughter tightly. She put one knee on the
floor and hugged her daughter again.
“Ah,
yes, Gramma’s famous mermaids and merfolk. I had almost forgotten about
them,” she mumbled with another heavy sigh. “She believed in mermaids so
much that she even had a special welcome sign that she hung on the
front door. It had a beautiful swimming mermaid on it. She said it
guarded the house from evil magic. Don’t think for one minute that I
didn’t search for mermaids. I spent hours and hours staring out at the
sea, hoping to catch sight of a fin or tail or something. Some tiny sign
that merfolk were real. Oh, I wanted to believe that Cape Cod was full
of merfolk, but sadly, like the others, they were made up, too. Just
more dreamed-up creatures from your grandma’s wild imagination. They
aren’t real either. Trust me, I searched and searched. All I saw were
fish, dolphins, whales, seals. Just normal sea animals of all kinds but
never any merfolk.”
Angela let out a long sigh and lowered herself back down on the couch.
“Mom,”
Molly was holding Cuddles on her lap and now pulled the cat in close for
a hug. “Do I have to stop listening to Gramma’s stories?”
“No,
honey, of course not. Just remember they are all make believe, okay?”
She sighed loudly. “I don’t want you believing in something so strongly
and then getting crushed when you find out that none of it is true.”
“Okay,
but I’m still going to enjoy them.” Molly tilted her head toward Cuddles
with a dreamy look on her face. She smiled as she imagined some of the
wonderful creatures her grandma had described.
“All I
ask is that you understand that it’s all make believe.” Angela stood up
and headed for the kitchen. “Do you want some more hot chocolate,
honey?” She turned back toward Molly still sitting on the couch. Molly
turned and leaned on the back of the couch.
“Yeah, here’s my mug.” She held out her cup until her mom walked back and took it from her.
The
distant jingle of the telephone from the den jolted Molly out of her
dreamy daze. “MOM! I’ll get the phone!” Molly shouted as she set Cuddles
on the floor and leapt off the couch. She skipped off to the den with
her head full of happy thoughts of her grandmother.
“Hello?
Huh? Okay . . . just a sec.’ MOOOOOOM? IT’S FOR YOU—SOMETHING ABOUT
GRAMMA!” she hollered, setting the phone down on the desk. Angela handed
the two hot chocolates to Molly.
“Who is it, sweety?” Angela asked as she picked up the phone.
“Don’t know.” Molly shrugged as she walked toward the door of the den.
“Hello!
Yes, this is Angela Parmell. What is this about?” Angela’s face suddenly
turned white, and she went weak in the knees. Her eyes were wide with
shock as she listened intently to the phone. “Yes, of course. I
understand.” After a short while she slowly set the receiver down.
“Mom?
Mom? What’s wrong?!” Molly wrinkled her brow. “What’s wrong?!” Molly
squealed and ran over to her mom, grabbing her arm. Angela’s face was
pale white, and she touched her daughter’s arm gently.
“Something
bad . . . something very . . .” She looked up at Molly. “Honey,
something bad . . . has happened . . . to Gramma,” she stammered and
stared down at the floor, momentarily frozen from the shock. Angela’s
voice was slow and soft, and she spoke as if in a daze.
“What happened?! MOM? WHAT HAPPENED TO GRAMMA?” Molly started to cry.
“I UH,
honey . . . I don’t . . . Uh . . . I don’t really know . . . I mean . . .
THEY don’t really know . . . the police . . . don’t know exactly what
happened . . . but Gramma is . . . Uh . . .” Angela paused, stabilizing
herself with the table. She was clearly in a state of shock.
“Mom?
What is it? What happened?” Molly stood up and reached out for her mom.
Molly led Angela back to the living room in silence.
Angela flopped on the couch and stared blankly into the fire.
“Mom, what is it? What happened?”
“Honey . . . your grandmother . . . is . . . .dead.” She turned toward Molly.
“What?
Gramma is . . . dead? Are you sure? That can’t be . . . I just talked to
her a few days ago on the phone . . . she sounded fine. What happened?
Did the police say what happened?” Tears streamed down Molly’s face.
“Uh,”
Angela phased back in for a second and focused her attention on Molly.
“Uh, no . . . they’re still investigating. They’re not sure yet if it
was an accident or not—but they suspect that it wasn’t an accident.”
Angela pulled Molly in close and hugged her. Tears welled up in her
eyes, and she cried as she held her daughter tightly.
Though
neither knew it, this was the fateful phone call that would change their
lives forever. From this moment on, nothing would ever be the same
again for Molly and Angela.
About the Author:
Barbara Jean Weber lives in Skagit County with her husband and two daughters, where she works as a speech and language therapist. Her novel,
The Welcome Sign,
was inspired when she was gifted a mermaid welcome sign. The more she
studied the sign, the more her story evolved. She is currently an active
member of the Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators.
Visit her website at https://www.barbarajeanweber.com/.
