BooksBarbecue
Back Spells for Lost Things
Chapters (42)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Prologue
  5. – 1 – Willow
  6. – 2 – Mason
  7. – 3 – Willow
  8. – 4 – Mason
  9. – 5 – Willow
  10. – 6 – Mason
  11. – 7 – Willow
  12. – 8 – Mason
  13. – 9 – Willow
  14. – 10 – Mason
  15. – 11 – Willow
  16. – 12 – Mason
  17. – 13 – Willow
  18. – 14 – Mason
  19. – 15 – Willow
  20. – 16 – Mason
  21. – 17 – Willow
  22. – 18 – Mason
  23. – 19 – Willow
  24. – 20 – Mason
  25. – 21 – Willow
  26. – 22 – Mason
  27. – 23 – Willow
  28. – 24 – Mason
  29. – 25 – Willow
  30. – 26 – Mason
  31. – 27 – Willow
  32. – 28 – Mason
  33. – 29 – Willow
  34. – 30 – Mason
  35. – 31 – Willow
  36. – 32 – Mason
  37. – 33 – Willow
  38. – 34 – Mason
  39. Acknowledgments
  40. More from the Author
  41. About the Author
  42. ALSO BY JENNA EVANS WELCH

Do you want me to come check on you?

I make my way over to the hotel, but I have no idea which window is hers. My phone dings and I scramble to pull it out of my pocket, but it’s only Emma. We’re back from my mom’s. Headed home?

I obviously can’t stay out here all night, but it takes genuine effort to start putting space between me and the hotel. Yeah.

She responds immediately. Okay, I’m just getting into bed. Door is unlocked.

When I get back to the house, every window is dark, and I stumble on the porch steps, making my way inside. I’m not in the mood to do a Mom search, but I force myself to go to the dining room anyway. Maybe it will get my mind off things.

I slide into the chair, my fingers automatically logging into my faux e-mail account. I have to see Willow before she and her mom leave tomorrow. Should I camp out on the steps again? Ask Simon and Emma to intervene? They might if I ask. I’m so deep in thought that it takes me several seconds before I truly see what is on the screen in front of me.

I have one new e-mail. From David Gonzalez.

My hands start trembling as I click on it.

Hello,

Thank you for your e-mail. Due to patient confidentiality, I am unable to assist you.

Best of luck,

David Gonzalez

Another dead end.

I bang my hands against the computer desk. Why do I ever think anything will work? Why do I think anyone will ever come through for me? Shouldn’t I know better by now? No matter what I do, everyone lets me down.

A heavy blend of emotions is filling me up, squeezing out my breath. I force myself to inhale, try to form a coherent string of thoughts. Does this e-mail mean my mom was a patient? Would he have said so if she wasn’t? And if Emma was involved in her treatment somehow, then why doesn’t she know where my mom is now? Shouldn’t she have some kind of information?

I need to start searching, looking for more people to contact, but anger is making my chest tight, rage turning my head fuzzy. Why will no one help me? And more importantly, why will no one help her? My mom can’t get better if she doesn’t have support, but our lives are absolutely full of red tape. No matter where I go there’s another barrier to getting back to my mom. Is that why she’s gone dark? Because it feels hopeless to her, too?