Page 96 of The Christmas Keepsake
Her lips parted. “Hey, that’s my line.”
The corners of his lips curved. “I thought maybe you forgot it.”
“Well, I didn’t.” Leaning into him, she hoped he’d keep his promise to catch her if she truly let herself fall, because that was the plan from here on out. Part of the plan. She also planned to leave the hospital, work at Memory Oaks, and reinvent Nan’s theater for someone else’s dream—Maddie’s. Wouldn’t the theater make a great location for the Adaptive Sports Center? Why hadn’t that occurred to her before?
And maybe, just maybe, Mallory and Maddie would extend an olive branch to their mom.
The future was full of possibilities and plans to make. But right now, Mallory’s only plan was getting Hollis to kiss her for a third time. Three’s a charm. “I love you too, Hollis Franklin,” she whispered, looking up into his dark brown eyes.
He didn’t budge. Instead, he held her gaze, looking at her like no one ever had. “You do realize I’m just a small-town guy who’s going to raise trees and rescue dogs, don’t you?”
She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean ‘just.’ That’s more than enough for me.”
Her words seemed to satisfy any hesitation he had left. Now he dipped low, his beard tickling her skin as he brushed his lips to hers. And just like being onstage, she felt like the ground was slipping from beneath her feet and she was flying.
As he pulled back, she flashed him a grin, her heart so full that it could burst. Not everyone got to live out their happily-ever-afterwith their one true love. Mallory didn’t doubt that Nan and Mickey had loved each other in their own way, different from the once-in-a-lifetime way that Nan had loved Ralph. Still loved Ralph.
Mallory wouldn’t take this chance with Hollis for granted.
“Santa, Babyis about Nan?” Hollis asked.
“It’s a long story,” Mallory said with a laugh. “All I care about now is our story.”
“Ditto, Mrs. Claus.” Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he led her toward the trees, with Buster and Duke at their heels and snowflakes landing on their hair and dusting their shoulders. Stopping short, Hollis bent and grabbed a bright red cardinal’s feather from the top of the freshly fallen snow. He turned and positioned it, along with a lock of hair, behind her ear.
This was a perfect moment, she thought, deserving of an ornament—the very first on her own Memory Tree.
Epilogue
As Mallory finished her shift at Memory Oaks, typing out the last note of the day, she glanced out the window of the carefully maintained grounds, admiring crepe myrtles in full bloom, their pink and purple blossoms adding splashes of color against a field of green. When she’d worked at the hospital all those years, the only view she’d gotten was… well, none. The blinds were always closed for patient privacy. There was no natural light. No glimpses of nature. And she rarely had time when she’d worked at the hospital to sit and admire anything.
It wasn’t just the view and the moments of rest throughout her day though. Every day brought new challenges: helping residents navigate their confusion, supporting families through difficult transitions, celebrating small victories. But the greatest reward was seeing Nan daily. Though her grandmother rarely recognized her as family anymore, their relationship had evolved into something equally meaningful. Now they shared the special bond between a patient and a nurse who carried Nan’s history in her heart.
Heading toward Nan’s room for her customary good-bye, Mallory’s shoes squeaked softly against the polished floors. She stopped short at the doorway, her heart warming at the scene before her. Inside, Pop sat with Nan, their laughter floating out into the hallway like music. The afternoon sun streamed through the open blinds, casting a golden glow around them, and for a moment, Mallory could almost see their younger selves superimposed over their present-day forms. Nan with her soft, auburn hair and bright eyes. Ralph with his strong shoulders and gentle smile.
Even with their memories fading, their connection remained. Over her brief time here at Memory Oaks, Mallory had witnessed countless moments that proved what she now knew to be true—the heart remembers what the mind forgets. Love persists beyond the boundaries of memory, living in shared laughter, in familiar gestures, in the comfort of presence even when names and faces blur.
She turned away quietly, not wanting to interrupt their time together. Besides, Mallory had somewhere important to be. Tonight marked the grand opening of Adaptive Outdoor Adventures, and Mallory’s chest tightened with anticipation. She was so happy for her little sister. So proud of Maddie.
“See you tomorrow, Francis!” Mallory called to the facility manager as she headed toward the exit.
Francis looked up and nodded. “Have I told you how glad I am to have you here?”
“Every day for the past six months,” Mallory said with a grin. She stopped short of the door. “But I think I may have failed to tell you just how glad I am you hired me. Thank you.”
“I knew you’d fit in here. It takes a special person to work with our patient population. A true caregiver.”
Mallory let that description sink in. Yeah. She’d been caring for her younger sister since their mom left. She’d cared for countless patients at the hospital. Nan. When she’d been in the thick of herburnout, she’d lost the joy of doing for others, but it was back. “I’m heading to the grand opening of Maddie’s new business.”
“Oh, wow. I haven’t heard about a grand opening.”
“It’s just a family celebration. The community opening is this weekend,” Mallory said, reaching for her car keys from her bag.
“Well, tell Maddie I’ll be there. I think it’s great what she and Renee Callister are doing.”
The business was for everyone, inclusive in every way. People at all levels of ability were breaking through limitations and climbing their own “mountains,” regardless of how big or how small.
Mallory pushed through the exit doors and crossed the parking lot toward her car. As she drove through Bloom, she rolled down her windows despite the heat, letting the scent of magnolia blossoms and freshly cut grass fill her senses. The downtown streets were quiet this afternoon. As she approached the old community theater, her breath caught.
