Page 36 of The Christmas Keepsake
“Arguing with the night crew wore your grandmother out.” She laughed quietly under her breath.
“Oh, I didn’t know she had a rough night.”
“Oh, yes, she sure did. She was carrying on about your grandfather,” Sheila said casually, as if it were no big deal. “I’m not sure I’ve ever heard Nan speak about him before.”
Mallory found this tidbit interesting. Memories were good, yes, but not if they were going to torment her grandmother.
Sheila faced Mallory and glanced down at Mallory’s bag. “She mentioned that you were reading her a story.”
Mallory’s heart leaped. “She mentioned me? By name?”
“Well, she called you a nice woman.” Sheila offered an apologeticexpression. “I know it’s hard. I see family members day in and day out. Being forgotten by your loved one is…”
“Crushing,” Mallory supplied.
Sheila reached for Mallory’s hand for a quick squeeze and release. “She likes the story. Whatever it is that you’re reading to her. What is it?”
Mallory hesitated. “Her journal. My grandmother has a box of ornaments for something she called the Memory Tree. There’s a story behind each ornament. Her life story.” Mallory shrugged, and she looked down at her hands. She needed a moment to take a deep breath. “A love story too,” she said, looking back up.
Sheila’s brows lifted. “Well, who doesn’t love a good romance?”
Nan stirred in her bed and opened her eyes, focusing on Mallory. “Mallory? Is that you?”
Mallory sat up straighter, tears immediately pricking at her eyes. She knew this moment would probably be fleeting. “Hi, Nan. It’s me.” There was so much she wanted to tell Nan before she disappeared. “We’re rehearsing for the play. Just like you asked me to do.”
Nan’s eyes lit up. “Santa, Baby,” she repeated. “I wrote that one, I think.”
“You did. You did.” Mallory kept her tone of voice even, worried she might accidentally pull Nan out of her fragile, clear-minded state.
“I always knew you’d take over the theater. In my heart,”—Nan placed a hand on the left side of her chest—“I always knew you’d run it once I was gone.”
Guilt crashed over Mallory like an unexpected ocean wave. She didn’t have the heart to tell Nan that she and Maddie were considering selling the theater. It wasn’t just a consideration. It was pretty much the plan because otherwise they wouldn’t be able to keep Nan here. Mallory loved the theater, but she couldn’t just give up her nursing job. That wasn’t practical—even if Mallory thought it sounded like a lovely life. Nan had led a lovely life. She’d always known it, butthe ornaments were giving Mallory a different viewpoint. It wasn’t all roses, but hardships made the journey worth it. She’d heard Nan say that more than once. “We’re using the original cast. Mostly.”
“Mm. Good. I only chose those who I knew would follow through. An actor needs to be as reliable as he or she is talented,” Nan said, pounding a fist in the air, her passion bubbling up.
Hollis came to mind. Nan had felt like she’d misplaced her trust in him that year when they’d been teens. Mallory remembered the rant Nan had gone on with Grandpa Mickey that night when she thought Mallory and Maddie were asleep. “I’m not mad because I put my play in jeopardy. I’m mad because I thought he was ready. This could set him back,” Mallory remembered hearing Nan say, her voice thick with tears.
Mallory had been baffled as she pulled her knees to her chest, sitting on the floor right next to her bedroom door. Why was Nan worried about Hollis when he was the one who’d ruined opening night?
“I thought a shining moment would be good for him, but what if it spins him back down that old self-destructive path? All because I pushed him before he was ready.”
The rest of the conversation had been muffled by Grandpa Mickey’s soft voice and Mallory’s own tears. She’d been embarrassed that night. She’d depended on Hollis, and he’d let her down. Broken her heart. Listening to Nan crying in the kitchen, she’d been hit with a deep shame. Hollis’s life wasn’t easy. She knew that. But neither was hers. Why should he get a free pass for bad behavior?
“Actors are puzzle pieces. Every piece matters,” Nan said now, her voice slowly losing its strength. Nan’s gaze fell back to the journal in Mallory’s hands. “You found it. Good. That’s good. I always wanted to tell you that story.”
“The story of the Christmas ornaments?” Mallory asked, leaning in.
“Mm. I wasn’t always old, you know.”
Mallory reached for Nan’s hand. “You’ve always been young atheart, in my opinion. I’ve been reading the story to you. Do you remember?”
Nan’s blue eyes became unfocused as she seemed to think. “I don’t remember. You’ve been reading to me?”
Mallory felt a jolt of panic as the conversation suddenly felt like walking on eggshells. She shook her head quickly, desperate to keep Nan with her but instinctively knowing Nan’s memories were slipping like sand in an hourglass. “Stay with me, Grandma.”
“Grandma?” Nan pulled her hand away and looked at Mallory as if they were strangers.
“I-I’m sorry. It’s just, you remind me of my grandmother,” Mallory said quickly. “My own grandmother had loved it when I read from this journal. Do you mind if I read it to you?”
