Page 4 of The Christmas Keepsake
He was kind enough not to call her on it, but the look he was giving her somehow felt worse. “Let’s get this over with. Matt and Sandy invited me over for Thanksgiving dinner.”
“That was nice of them.” She pulled the tray of medical items closer and got to work, tending to his wound on auto mode.
“Wanna come with me?” he asked, avoiding looking at his wound. She found it comical how many men came in and got woozy at the sight of blood. “I’m sure Sandy made more than enough.”
The suggestion took Mallory by surprise.
“You’re about to get off shift, right?” he prodded.
Now she regretted telling him that because it would be awkward when she rejected the invitation. Some part of her wanted to say yes though. “That’s okay. It’s been a long shift, and I’m exhausted. But thank you.” She applied a bandage in a quick movement, pushed the metal tray aside, and smiled back at him. “All done.”
He finally looked down, his brows lifting. “I’m impressed.”
She shrugged a shoulder. “If you knew how many times I’ve glued up a gash like that one.”
“Probably as many times as I’ve hammered a nail into a piece of lumber and constructed a basic frame. If you change your mind about dinner with Matt and Sandy…” When he stood, so did Duke, wagging his tail anxiously.
“Thanks.” She led him out of the closed curtain and down the corridor. “I think I’ll actually swing by Memory Oaks and visit Nan though.”
She hadn’t planned on doing that, but it seemed like a good idea now. Then she might head home and open Nan’s box of keepsakes afterward. She had been waiting for Maddie to join her, but now that it was clear Maddie wasn’t interested in a deep dive into her family’s past, Mallory was eager to discover exactly what was so important for Nan to show them. Mallory had assumed her grandmother was an open book, but everyone had secrets—little things they wanted to keep hidden from the world. Even Mallory.
As Mallory approached her small, one-story brick house later that evening, she slowed her step when she noticed an insulated bag hanging on her front doorknob, and a faint smell of delicious food wafted under her nose. Undoubtedly, Maddie had sent Sam to drop off a dinner plate from their earlier meal with Grandpa Charlie and his new wife, Eleanor.
Regret threaded through her, but without Nan, she couldn’t fathom sitting down to a turkey meal with all the sides and a slice of pumpkin pie, pretending everything was fine.
Even though Nan hadn’t known Mallory from the nurse who worked her hall, Mallory was grateful for the half hour she’d sat with Nan tonight.
After unlocking her door, she took the bag inside and kicked off her shoes—her feet practically sighing with relief. She was hungry, but the food could wait. She left the insulated bag on her kitchen counter and headed down the hall toward her bedroom, flipping on the light and veering into her closet. In the very back corner was the large plastic box that Nan had given to Maddie and her last Christmas.
“This is my Keepsake Box. Just a few treasured items that might not make sense if you don’t know the memories behind them.” She held up a small, brown journal to show Mallory and Maddie. “That’s why I’m also giving you this. Inside this journal, you’ll find the meaning of all the items. I’ve numbered them because they’re meant to be hung in order, according to the time line.”
“Hung?” Mallory had said, shaking her head slightly. “Hung where?”
Nan’s smile was warm, as always. “On the Memory Tree.” She didn’t wait for them to ask what exactly that was. Nan had been showing subtle signs of forgetfulness, and part of Mallory wondered if it was related to that. “A Christmas tree except this one tells a story. My story.”
She’d made both Mallory and Maddie promise they’d wait until this Thanksgiving or after, pulling each item out in their proper order and reading whatever she’d written for that memory.
“I promise,” Mallory agreed, ignoring the fact that Maddie had said nothing.
Nan’s shoulders seemed to slump in relief.“I have one more request.If I can’t make it happen next year, promise me that you’ll run my play. The town is depending on us. The show must go on.”
At the time, Mallory thought Nan was making a mountain out a of molehill over little things like losing her keys or getting lost on the way to the grocery store where she’d been shopping for decades. No part of her really thought that she was agreeing to put on Nan’s play on her own.
Dragging the Keepsake Box to the side of her bed, she sat on the floor while leaning against the side of her mattress.
I wish Maddie was here.
She understood why Maddie wasn’t. After months of living moment to moment, Maddie was finally focusing on the future. Maybe getting involved in adaptive sports would be fulfilling for her. Mallory couldn’t be prouder of her younger sister’s strength and determination. Maybe next year, she’d be ready for Nan’s full story.
Lifting the lid, the first thing Mallory saw was Nan’s journal lying on top of several small boxes, all numbered. The journal was a small brown book with tiny white flowers, and the wordMemorieswas indented into the leather. Hooking the tips of her fingers beneath the cover’s edge, she opened to the first page.
Nan’s familiar cursive handwriting felt like a hug, reaching out of the book’s binding and squeezing Mallory’s heart. It felt good, but also left her heart aching because, deep inside, she knew things had changed and would never be the same again.
Blinking past her blur of tears, she focused on the words that Nan had written.
My dear sweet Granddaughters…
If you’re reading this, I’m probably gone, in one sense or another. No man (or woman) lives forever, and I don’t think I’d even want to. The best that one can hope is that we live on in our loved ones who remain.
