Page 9 of The Christmas Keepsake
“You are unbelievable, Hollis Franklin. Well, I hope I won’t be dressing any more wounds.”
“I kind of enjoyed it. I thought we had a moment.” He winked in a completely platonic way. There was nothing flirtatious, but her heart still betrayed her with a subtle skip as she watched him continue down the hall. Catching her breath and returning to her senses, she turned back to Nan’s door.
Nan had always been the one Mallory turned to when she was feeling out of touch with who she was. Nan would always remind her.You are my Mallory.Four simple words, but they gave Mallory purpose and belonging. Ever since Nan had come to live here, Mallory had missed hearing Nan say those words to her.
Maybe this time.
Mallory stepped inside Nan’s room and waited for Nan to look at her. It had been weeks since Nan remembered her. A small fear was growing inside Mallory that maybe Nan would never remember her again. Maybe Mallory would forever be a stranger to her own grandmother.
“Who are you?” Nan’s thin brows lifted shakily on her forehead.
Mallory wanted to respond “I’m your Mallory,” but instead she swallowed back an onslaught of tears that tightened her throat. “Hi, Nan. How are you today?”
“Fine-fine. Did you see that dog out there?” Nan asked, looking delighted. “So cute. His owner ain’t bad to look at either.”
Mallory took a seat in the chair by Nan’s bed. “You think?”
“Oh, yes. If I were your age, I’d be getting that man’s number.” Nan’s gaze fell to Mallory’s left hand. “You’re not married?”
It was amazing how someone could remember the significance of a left ring finger but not the face of their own family member.
“No.” Mallory laid her purse on Nan’s bedside table, accidentally letting it topple to the side and letting Nan’s diary slide out. Mallory had brought it with her, wondering if she should show it to Nan. Anytime Mallory brought up the past lately, however, Nan got agitated. When Nan couldn’t recall what Mallory was discussing, Nan became angry in a way that wasn’t like her at all. The Nan of old was slow to anger and quick to laugh.
Nan’s gaze fell on the brown leather-bound journal. “What’s that?”
“A journal.” Mallory approached the subject with caution. “Have you, um, ever seen that book before, Nan?”
Nan studied the journal and gave a slight head shake. “No, I don’t think so. It’s a book, you say?”
“More of a diary than anything.” Or like a series of letters to Mallory and Maddie.
Nan looked thoughtful. “I used to have one of those. Does it belong to someone you know?”
Mallory nodded. “Yes, but she gave me permission to read it.”
“To read her diary?” Nan looked at Mallory. “She must trust you a great deal to give you all her secrets.”
“I guess she does.” Or she did. “I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if Ishare it with you as well. Would you like me to read it to you?” Mallory held her breath. This could either go very badly or it could be no big deal.
Nan sat stiffly for a moment before relaxing into her pillow. “I’d like that. And I promise not to share whatever we find out.”
Mallory didn’t think Nan was the type to keep secrets. She had a flare for theatrics, but otherwise, her life was kind of boring. At least from Mallory’s vantage point.
“Okay. Maybe just a few pages.” Picking up the leather diary, Mallory opened to the first page and smoothed her hand over the lined paper, feeling the dips and grooves of Nan’s handwriting cross her skin. Then she pointed her index finger and trailed each word as she read them aloud. “The Santa Hat.” Mallory glanced up at Nan, who seemed to be hanging on Mallory’s words.
“That hat was part of the first play I ever took the lead in, a monumental moment for a budding actress. We performed in the school cafeteria,” she said, lowering her voice to a hushed whisper. “Mickey played Santa until an unfortunate accident happened during the dress rehearsal.” Nan’s gaze reached to a far-off place. “That’s when Ralph, the Santa understudy, stepped up, and little did I know.”
“Know what?” Mallory asked. Mickey was her grandfather, but she had no idea who Ralph was.
“Well, I fell for him,” Nan said, looking at her again.
Everything inside Mallory froze except her heartbeat, which seemed to echo through her body. “Whodid you fall in love with at that time?”
Nan’s blue eyes suddenly blinked. Whatever memory she’d been wrapped in had unraveled, disintegrating like moth-eaten fabric. “Hmm?”
Mallory knew Nan wasn’t talking about the Santa in the script that Nan had written herself—Santa, Baby. The first play Nan starred in must have been a different Santa story. Probably ageneric,happy one. The kind everyone expects.Nan’s script had gone against the typical Santa grain though. “Nan?” Mallory leaned forward, wondering if Nan was confused.
Nan’s confusion was visible as the skin between her eyes crinkled into a deep divot and the lines around her eyes became more pronounced. “Who-who did you say you were again?”
