Morning Magic Read online

  The Witches of New Moon Beach Series

  Morning Magic

  BY:

  Meriam Wilhelm

  AMAZON EDITION

  *****

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Meriam Wilhelm on Amazon

  The Witches of New Moon Beach Series

  Morning Magic

  Original copyright 2016 by Meriam Wilhelm

  ALL Rights reserved

  Cover Created By: H.O. Charles

  Amazon Edition Copyright by Meriam Wilhelm 2016

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  All rights reserved. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy.

  Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information address proper representatives through the author’s e-mail [email protected]

  This book is dedicated to my husband who understood my desire to write and gave me his love and support throughout the process and to my children who inspire me every day. Also to Rebecca Forster, who gave me her time, support, valuable insights and the courage to try!

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Preview to Night Flight; Book 2 in my series The Witches Of New Moon Beach

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  My name is Olivia Merriman and I am staring up at a big black and purple sign that announces the Grand Opening of Mystique Creations. All I can do is giggle as a thrill races from my toes up to the very top of my spine.

  In case you haven't guessed, I’m opening my very first shop and I’ve named it Mystique Creations. It's a place where people can come craft and sew and basically be magically creative - or just enjoy a cup of tea in one cool shop.

  Ever since I was a little girl I loved turning junk into treasures. I saw a reason to save almost anything old just to be able to transform it into something new and useful. And I’ve continued that practice throughout my life.

  My sisters think my obsession is kind of weird, but then they have their own little quirks that drive me crazy too. Constance is forever trying to force feed us one of her culinary concoctions that always includes breads, strange smelling cheeses and all different variations of beef, pork or fowl.

  Harmony is the queen of order; nothing is ever allowed to be out of place in her world or ours for that matter. I guess that makes me the least weird one of all of us because what I actually do make people and things useful and beautiful again, not pudgy or anxious.

  While other kids were off on their bikes riding to the pier, making sand castles on the shore, or bouncing playfully in the waves, I was designing a fashionable summer line of clothing for my Midge doll. Sure, I had a Barbie and Ken and even Skipper too, but Midge was more like me, sort of quirky and different from the rest. So I dedicated my childhood to dressing my Midge doll like one unique fashion diva.

  I made everything for Midge, from her bikinis to her wedding gowns all out of old dresses my sisters outgrew, the lace doilies I spirited off the couch, our housekeeper’s colorful scarves and any other loot that I could lay my hands on.

  I made houses for my dolls out of old cardboard boxes and cut sofas from bars of soap - Dial soap to be specific. That meant all my doll sofas were colored unforgettable Dial soap gold and smelled like clover. I made chairs from old spools of thread and curtains out of Kleenex. When the tissue box was empty, I transformed it into one hot sports car; for Midge of course.

  So you may find it kind of a bizarre thing for a kid to do, but I once turned an empty refrigerator box into a high-rise apartment complex. It was five stories tall; each floor painted a different color and decorated with furniture made out of items I “borrowed” from my sisters’ rooms. Although the refrigerator apartment never really felt right for GI Joe or Ken; Midge, Barbie and Skipper fit right in. When I ran out of dolls to fill my high rise, my sister’s perfume bottles and hairspray cans stepped in as tenants, visiting friends and neighbors.

  I read somewhere that, “The things that make you weird as a kid will make you great tomorrow.” So here I am, all grown up, college degree in hand, ready, willing and able to help other people indulge in their creative urges. I think that my weirdness may have come full circle and turned into an actual career.

  I probably should have made it back to New Moon Beach, my sisters and my dreams sooner, but I hit a bump in the road. That bump’s name is Jonathan Maxwell. Even now, thinking about him makes my heart hurt a little, but what’s done is done. I'm not going to let anything or anyone ruin today - not even thinking about what might have been with Jonathan.

  I braided my unruly blonde hair this morning with yellow and turquoise satin ribbons, intent on keeping it stylishly out of my face as I began my balancing act for the day. I am here at the front door of my soon to be launched, awesomely creative fabric and crafts shop, balancing a backpack, purse and cat carrier as I try to find the key to open the shop front door. I don’t know why I always think that I can magically juggle a million things at once; I just do. And sometimes I do it better than others.

  My backpack falls over and colored pencils, markers, sewing tools and patterns all spill out. Like a row of wobbly dominoes, next in line to fall is my purse. As I squirm to balance the remaining cat carrier I so lovingly made out of paisley duck cloth, it slips off my fingers and lands with a soft thump! Ms. Cassandra's loud hiss make it clear that she in one unhappy cat; which I confirm as I look into a pair of reflective copper eyes that spark with annoyance.

  “Oh settle down, I didn’t really drop you.” Stopping to listen for a moment for any sort of response I add, “What, cat's got your tongue?"I chuckle at my own joke, but Ms. Cassandra says nothing. I guess she just doesn’t get my sense of humor.

  I don’t know what it is about my cat but she’s very selective about who she talked to and when. When you expect her to converse with you, she’s silent. But when she’s in the mood to chat, you can’t shut her up and man, can she be opinionated!

  Miss Cassandra is my familiar and I have to admit that even with her crankiness, I’ve become quite fond of her. And, if truth be told, I’m also dependent on her to guide my way ….occasionally.

  Since you already know about my cat, it probably won’t shock you to find out that my sisters and I are all witches. We’re white witches, also known as good witches. We practice white witchcraft where we do no harm to others; only good.

  The practice of witchcraft has been in our family for generations, even our father is a witch. But he’s a witch of a different nature. I’ll fill you in on him later. Our mother was a witch too, but she died when I was little. The whole witchcraft thing is a little “out there” for some people, but I don’t share it with you to worry you or to put you off.

  “How do you like the beach so far,
Miss Cassandra?” I asked my cat. Hearing no response I continued, “Come on, lighten up. You have to admit that this is one beautiful place to live.”

  “I have little to share with you at the moment except that this damp ocean air is making me nauseous and you are beginning to make me feel even sicker by jostling me about in this gaudy contraption,” Miss Cassandra huffed.

  “Gaudy? I hand crafted this carrier, especially for you and it’s bright and colorful and comfortable but it’s definitely not gaudy. And I really have to wonder, how sea air can make anyone nauseous?”

  “Well then, you crawl right in here, take a deep breath and enjoy it,” Miss Cassandra answers sarcastically through contemptuous eyes. “See how you feel being carted about in this kaleidoscope of color and then unceremoniously dropped!”

  “You are so dramatic Miss Cassandra. Okay, be that way. We’re here now and you are going to love it. I promise. Just a minute more I’ll let you out to explore our new digs."

  Grabbing my purse, I rummage through it in search of the aged brass store key, found it stuck to the back of an old pack of gum, put it in the lock and turned. When I finally push the door ajar with my toe I swear a gentle perfumed breeze flew right out hitting me in the face like a welcoming kiss. I recognize the scent right away as it brought me treasured memories of my departed godmother Meghan.

  Smiling, I push my backpack and Miss Cassandra’s home away from home towards the front door with the tip of my boot. I think this cat of mine must be chunking on a few pounds lately because it shouldn’t be this hard. And to make matters worse, she isn't even trying to help lighten my load which of course she can if she wants to with just a magical flip of her tail.

  “A little help here?” I ask.

  My friend and companion, a beautiful orange marmalade cat, is carelessly giving her right paw a lick. When I stare through the black mesh window, she gives off a loud yawn and rolls over on her side as if she cares little about my request and has even less to say about it. Of course, I know that won’t last for long, so I suppose I should enjoy her silence while I can.

  Before I close the shop door behind us, I step back out onto the sidewalk once more and take a slow deep breath. I want to create a lasting memory of this transition between my old life and my new. The ocean breeze blows softly and the sun warms my back even though I am partially shaded by the blue and white striped awnings above me. I glanced at the palm trees lined up like soldiers up and down the length of the Esplanade. The smell of salt, sand and sea make me smile as I fill my lungs with crisp morning ocean air.

  I am finally home: home to my sisters, New Moon Beach and Mystique Creations. And thankfully, I have captured a perfect moment to cast just a little morning magic.

  Chapter 2

  Mother Nature and Sister Moon please send

  Blessings on all who enter here

  May they find joy, peace and friendship behind my door

  And long to return for evermore

  Mother Nature and Sister Moon

  This most of all I do yearn

  Please let these blessings all come true

  And I will pledge to share kindness with all in return

  I have to tell you that casting that spell made me feel so good and confirmed that the best mornings surely begin by offering up a little magic.

  To open Mystique Creations with a spell designed to plant happiness and friendship within its new walls is just what I wanted to do. I hadn’t needed to grab my cauldron or even to search out my Book of Shadows to cast my morning spell. I simply put my thoughts in order and silently chanted my gratitude to the gods in my own emotion filled words. My thoughts easily flowed upward and I was confident that I had just infused positive energy into my shop through my little enchantment. I knew that I had done all that I could do to make this new venture of mine a success!

  Reaching out, I touched the brass handle of my shop front door as a sharp pain raced up my arm forcing me to step back. “Ouch!” I yelped. Well, I certainly wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction to my chant. I know that I’m not that good at casting spells, but I have to wonder if I just unknowingly unlocked something dark and sinister instead of my shop front door.

  My head immediately began to spin and for a moment I felt as if I was going to faint as tiny blue lights flashed before my eyes. Soft lilting music and the smell of Jasmine flowers filled my senses. The door appeared to magically open as the image of a woman in a long white dress floated into sight. Before I could question what was happening right in front of my eyes, the woman spoke, “Olivia, your road will not be an easy one. Stay true to your path and happiness will find its way to you. Take care and know that you are loved.” And with that the mysterious doorway disappeared and so did the woman.

  Curiously torn between a need to know more about the lady in white and the desire to open my shop I couldn’t help but wonder whose spirit I had just encountered. And although the spirit had looked a bit familiar, I wasn’t given a chance to consider the matter any further.

  I knew my sister Constance was headed my way before I actually saw her. There was just something about the sound of her rubber soled sandals attacking the sidewalk that told me it was Constance. And ready or not I was engulfed in one massive bear hug. Hugs, love and food, that’s Constance’s normal MO. She can’t help herself, she’s a giver. I wanted to ask my sister if she had seen what just happened in my doorway, but she gave me no opportunity to even speak.

  “Olivia! You finally got here. I’ve been waiting all morning. I thought you were going to call me when you got to the shop today. Here, I brought you a sandwich and something to drink. I knew that you wouldn’t have eaten! You haven’t eaten, have you? You are so thin! I know that you are always on some healthy eating trip, but I brought you a bag of your favorite chips anyway,” said Constance.

  Snatching the keys from where they had become squished between my twisted fingers and Constance’s meaty chest, I stepped back and looked up into eyes of crystal blue. That’s something that all three of us sisters have in common, the eye color; not the meaty chest. Other than the eyes, we are all quite different. I’m five-foot four and athletically built; Constance is five-foot eight and full figured. Harmony is the oldest and tallest of us, a statuesque five-foot ten with the body of a modern day goddess.

  Of all of my sisters, Harmony is the most fun to design for because she can wear anything and look good. I love to mix her in plaids and silks and unique jackets of persimmon or eggplant because she can carry off even the wildest styles and colors. It doesn’t matter how short or long the hem length; she wears them all well.

  Me, I prefer flowing cotton peasant blouses over wide bell bottomed jeans. I have a passion for embroidering and love adding as many colors as possible to the flowers and designs I create. My sisters think I’m caught in the hippie generation and they might be right. Give me a wrist full of jangly bracelets and T-shirts tie dyed in psychedelic colors and I’m in heaven.

  Constance doesn’t really like me to sew for her, preferring to live in her predictable work uniform of jeans, T-shirts and various aprons with pickles on the front. I’ve decided to surprise her by integrating her pickle theme into a couple of soon to be revealed fashion ideas. You’ll just have to wait and see.

  Understanding that Constance was getting anxious to hand over her deli delivery to me, I asked, “Can you hold on for just a minute more Constance? I just got here.”

  I think that sometimes it’s hard for Constance to remember that I am an adult witch who can make her own decisions as well as her own lunch. Well, for that matter, sometimes that’s hard for me to remember too. But I’m working on it!

  Lifting my cat carrier and facing my sister I said, “Okay Constance here goes - No. I haven’t eaten. Yes. It took me a while to get here. And yes. I’m hungry.”

  “Geez aren’t you the grumpy one,” Constance said on her knees scooping up the pencils and the other things that had fallen out of my backpack.

  “I
don’t think I’m being grumpy. And by the way, you don’t have to do that! You’re always taking care of me Constance,” I said, giving her a brief hug. “Thank you.”

  “Are you ever going to put down that raggedy old cat and eat?” she asked visibly exasperated with me.

  “Oh yeah,” I said finally putting the carrier safely on the floor and opening its door. “I bet that Miss Cassandra is more than ready to break out of her kitty prison cell by now. And don’t call her that raggedy old cat; she’s my raggedy old cat.”

  “Well, well, well. It’s about time you remembered me Chatty Cathy, my bladder is about to burst!” Miss Cassandra said in her nastiest voice. “And I am not anyone’s Raggedy Old Cat!” she added before taking a swipe at my jean hem with her paw and then going in search of relief. A pink box filled with kitty litter instantly appeared, apparently ordered up by Miss C. herself.

  Ignoring her negativity I said, “The most important thing is that I’m here now and I’m raring to go!”

  Turning to look at Constance I added, “I moved all of my things into the back house. It feels so homey to me. I know it may sound weird, but I keep waiting to see Meghan or Marv walk into the room. I can’t believe that it’s been a couple of years since they’ve passed away. First Marv, then Meghan. It’s so sad. I just hate cancer!”

  “Blessed be,” Constance whispered softly. “Meghan and Marv were two sweet souls to leave you both the shop and house in their will.”

  Clasping her hands together and looking skyward, I was suddenly afraid that Constance was attempting to communicate with their departed spirits. My bad. She was just having one of her many emotionally charged moments. You’ll get used to those, I have.

  I guess that I can tell you now, after a lot of hard work, just how proud I am of the shop that Marv and Meghan left me. I mean I really love this place because it is a true reflection of me and I just adore everything about it!