Page 37 of The Christmas Keepsake
Nan’s gaze lowered to the book in Mallory’s hands. “I suppose so. If you would like.”
“I would. I’d like to very much.”
Mallory opened the book where she’d left off and took a breath before reading aloud, flicking her gaze up to Nan to gauge her reaction. “This one is titled ‘The Wooden Heart Ornament.’”
Nan chuckled quietly. “Strange name for an ornament.”
“I think so too.” Malory used her pointer finger to hold her place as she continued. “The Wooden Heart Ornament hangs sixth from the top of your tree. Here’s the story behind it.”
Nan shifted restlessly.
“You okay, Nan?”
Nan blinked, coming back from some distant place in her mind. “I’m fine.” She frowned and fluttered a hand in the air. “All right, then. Let’s just go hang that ugly thing in your lap, if it’ll make you happy.”
Mallory’s mouth fell open. “I don’t think it’s ugly.”
“Well, you need to get your eyes checked,” Nan snapped. “It looks like something made from scrap wood.” A trace of a smile returned to her lips. “I need to get out of this room. Will you take me?”
“Of course.” Mallory closed the journal and dropped it back into her bag, even though she’d barely read a couple of sentences. Then she stood and helped Nan transfer to her wheelchair.
“This play. Will you perform it here when you’re ready?” Nan asked as Mallory pushed the chair down the long, brightly lit hallway.
Mallory was surprised that Nan even remembered the play Mallory had mentioned fifteen minutes ago. “That’s not a bad idea.”
“Well, of course not. I don’t have bad ideas.” Nan’s voice held an amused tone. “That’s what I used to say.”
Mallory stopped pushing the wheelchair momentarily. “Do you like the theater?”
“Oh, I’d say so. I went to New York when I was younger, you know. I wanted to be on Broadway.”
“You don’t say.” Mallory wheeled Nan’s wheelchair through the double entry doors to the community room. “What happened when you went to New York?”
“Well, I guess I’d say it wasn’t what I expected. Like a lot of things in life.”
“Any regrets?” Mallory asked.
“If I do, I don’t recall ’em.” Nan shrugged. “I think though, I would have regretted never going. I’m glad I went and glad I left.” She looked over at Mallory. “I feel in love after that. Or maybe before.” Her gaze wandered to the tree. “Oh, how I love a Christmas tree. That one is so big. It’s going to be beautiful when it’s finished.”
Mallory held up the Wooden Heart Ornament. “This one goes sixth from the top.” She hadn’t read the rest of the ornament’s story yet, but she was intrigued.
Nan stared at the ornament as it dangled on Mallory’s index finger. “The building we purchased was a money pit,” she said quietly, almost under her breath. “It took Mama’s every last cent to buy the place, which was maybe more than it was worth.”
Nan must not have been remembering correctly. “The community theater is lovely. It’s always been a huge staple in Bloom.”
“Oh, I know. But only because the man I loved rebuilt every square inch by hand.”
As rehearsal came to a close later that evening, Mallory couldn’t help but notice that Hollis had seemed less talkative tonight. He wasn’t smiling and seemed to be keeping to himself. Had the comment from Esther Woods the night prior gotten to him?
Mallory headed in his direction as the actors and actresses, most of whom she considered friends, slowly made their way out the theater’s door. “You okay?”
He blinked himself out of deep thought the way Nan had earlier. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay. Just been a long day, that’s all.”
She pushed her hands into the low-slung pockets of her bulky cardigan sweater. “Yeah. For me too. So, how do you think tonight went?”
“Good. It’s amazing how much everyone remembers their lines from year to year.”
“Memory is a strange thing. Sometimes you remember something completely random and forget the important stuff. Like the people you love.” Mallory had been emotional since visiting Nan earlier. She hadn’t expected this all to be so hard. Some part of her thought she should be grateful. She still had time with Nan. It wasn’t like Nan was snatched in a moment. It would be a long good-bye versus the kind of exit that didn’t give loved ones a chance for real closure.
