Page 81 of The Christmas Keepsake
Sandy grimaced subtly. “Christmas has always been a little shaky for Hollis. Shaky for a lot of people, to be honest… I think he just needs some time.”
“Time?” Mallory didn’t have time to offer. The show must go on! That was the rule. Set your personal issues aside, just like Nan had. Nan had continued after the loss of a child and through a pregnancy with another. She’d continued when Mallory’s mom had run away and then when Daisy had returned with a newborn baby.
Mallory leaned against Hollis’s porch railing, suddenly feeling exhausted. “I wish he would let me help instead of freezing me out.All month he’s preached to me about leaning on others and accepting help. Now he’s doing exactly what he told me not to.”
Sandy reached up and gave Mallory’s shoulder a squeeze. “Oh, honey. You know Hollis as well as I do. He’s first to offer a helping hand, but sometimes he’ll dig himself in a bigger hole rather than reach up and allow someone to pull him up. He’s always struggled with feeling worthy of the good things in his life. And, I hate to say it, but Matt may have set Hollis back with any progress he’s ever made toward self-worth. Believe you me, I gave my husband a piece of my mind after he ran Hollis off.” She breathed a heavy sigh. “Mallory, you’re one of the best things that’s happened to him in a long time.”
“If that’s true, he wouldn’t be ghosting me,” she muttered, knowing she had no right to take this personally. She knew it in her mind, but her heart felt broken. She thought that she and Hollis were close. She’d begun to lean on him. Why couldn’t he do the same and trust her as well?
“I think maybe you’re looking at it from the wrong perspective. I suspect Hollis has himself convinced that he’s protecting you by pulling away.”
“That I’d be better off without him,” Mallory whispered, realizing that what Sandy was saying was right. That sounded exactly like something Hollis might do.
Mallory nodded slowly, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. “What do we do now?”
“You know the answer to that. As your grandmother would say…” Sandy said, trailing off.
Mallory nodded, understanding completely. “Okay. Let’s figure out how to have the play without our leading man.” And she’d just have to hope that Hollis was okay, wherever he was.
The Compass Ornament
The Compass Ornament is in the box labeled number 14. Inside, you’ll find Mickey’s treasured compass with the face cracked right through the middle. When you hang it, you’ll note that the little arrow points wherever it wants. There is no north or south, west or east—and I think there’s a message to be learned there, up for interpretation.
Here’s the story.
Deep down, I knew that Daisy did the right thing by leaving. And, some part of me was proud of her for choosing Mallory’s well-being over her own desire to cling to her. Even so, I waited for Daisy to return. Every day brought new hope that this would be the one when she appeared on my doorstep, the prodigal daughter, renewed. I told myself that she would find herself wherever she was and then she would come home again.
As those days passed, Mallory grew more beautiful, more vibrant. She had Daisy’s eyes and what Mickey liked to call my stubborn chin. Her laughter filled our home in a way it hadn’t in years, chasing away the loneliness that had settled in after Daisy left.
I found myself staying up late, rocking Mallory to sleep and whispering stories of the stage into her tiny ears. Unlike Daisy, who had grown to resent the theater, Mallory seemed entranced by it. Her eyes would light up at the sight of the heavy velvet curtains, and she’d clap her chubby hands in delight at the sound of applause.
As her third birthday approached, I realized something had changed in me. I no longer prayed for Daisy’sreturn. Instead, I found myself hoping, guiltily, selfishly, that my own daughter would stay away. That Mallory would remain with Mickey and me forever.
“We have a second chance,” I confided to Mickey one night after we’d put Mallory to bed. “A chance to do it right this time.”
Mickey seemed to agree with me, although he didn’t say a word. He’d been there through it all—the fights with Daisy, the sleepless nights wondering where she was, the pain of her absence. He must have seen new hope in Mallory too.
Two years later, though, it happened again. Daisy showed up, and I knew, with just one look, she wasn’t in a place to be a mother. Not to Mallory and not to Madison, the second baby she handed off for me and Mickey to take care of.
“I raised you better than this,” I said that time, resentment building, even though I wouldn’t trade my granddaughters for the world. Yes, maybe it was the wrong reaction, but we all say things we wish we could take back. Even as we say them, we know we should stop because the regret is inevitable. Inescapable.
“Are you sure about that?” Daisy retorted. She didn’t even stay long enough for dinner. She just placed the second baby in my arms. “Her name is Madison. Maddie. Her birthday is April eighteenth.” Then she turned and left.
Mickey wanted to chase after her, but I grabbed his arm.
“She’s not ready. She can only cause more harm for Mallory.” And truthfully, for me too.
That was the last time for a while that Daisy showedup at my door. Years went by. Christmases passed. By the time Mallory was five, she knew every nook and cranny of our little theater. She’d sit in the wings during rehearsals, her eyes wide with wonder.
Both Mallory and Maddie had been involved in the theater, but Mallory had it in her blood. She also had Daisy’s beauty but none of her restlessness. Where Daisy had been like a storm, Mallory was more of a gentle breeze. She brought joy wherever she went, and the theater became as much her home as it had ever been mine.
Madison, on the other hand, found her passion in the great outdoors. Sometimes she would wander and I’d have to search for her. In those moments, I’d wonder if my youngest granddaughter was going to follow in her mom’s footsteps. She never ran away though. She always came home from her outdoor adventures.
It was on one such Christmas Eve, Mallory’s twelfth, that everything changed again. We’d just settled in for our usual tradition. Mallory, despite being too old for such things, as she’d started claiming, was curled up on the couch, her eyes bright with anticipation as Mickey began to read.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.
Maddie’s head lifted, her eyes wide. “Do you think it’s Santa?” she whispered, a hint of her childhood excitement creeping into her voice.
