The Christmas Keepsake, page 9
Pop chuckled. “Don’t let this big lug fool you. It’s all show. Sometimes the biggest smiles hide the loneliest hearts. I knew that the first time I caught him trespassing on my farm.”
Hollis was amazed by how many memories Pop still had, even though so many had vanished to wherever memories go when they were lost.
“I’ll remember that.” She nudged him slightly. “Word in the room is that they’re kicking us out in five minutes. Dance is over at eight.”
“Oh, man.” Pop swung his arm with exaggerated disappointment. “I was just working up my nerve to ask Nancy to dance with me.”
“The recreational therapist?” Mallory glanced around the room. “Don’t worry, Pop. I’ll find her and ask her for you. I think there’s still time for one more dance.”
Pop gave her a wink. “Then you and Hollis here can have one last dance too.”
As they said their goodbyes and headed out to Hollis’s truck, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment. He’d seen a glimpse of the carefree, joyful Mallory she could be when she wasn’t lugging around the worries and responsibilities that weren’t solely hers.
Driving home, with Mallory humming softly to the Christmas carols on the radio, Hollis wished the night didn’t have to end. As he pulled up in front of her house, he turned to her. “I won’t try to walk you to your door. I got the memo loud and clear that tonight was not a date.”
Mallory’s soft brown eyes were warm. “Wow, all that dancing really wore me out and I, um, have an early shift at the hospital.”
“Really? Haven’t you worked three twelve-hour shifts already this week?”
She glanced up. “Are you keeping tabs on me?”
He shook his head, even though, yeah, he kind of was.
“I’m covering for one of the other nurses so she can attend some family stuff for the holidays. The extra shifts help with Nan’s care.”
Hollis nodded. “Nursing. Visiting Nan. Putting on a play. Don’t burn the candle at both ends. You’ll burn yourself out.”
She breathed a laugh. “I may have been close to doing just that, but tonight was good for me. It was fun.”
“Laughter is good medicine,” Hollis said. “Just let me know when you need more. I’m at the ready if it means keeping you from burning out.”
The air between them felt charged—at least to him. Even knowing that tonight wasn’t supposed to have any romantic implications, he found himself leaning in, drawn by some invisible force—a string that had always pulled him toward Mallory. As he leaned, however, Mallory blinked, breaking the spell.
“Thank you, Hollis,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Then she gathered her bag, avoiding looking at him directly. “Good night.”
He watched as she slipped out of the truck and walked up her driveway to her front porch. Then he expelled a long breath as she disappeared inside the home. “Night, Mal.”
Driving home, Hollis wondered if it was his imagination or if something had shifted between them tonight. It might not have been a date, but it felt like more than friendship.
The Rustic Nail Ornament
You’ll find the Rustic Nail Ornament in a bright red velvet box labeled with the number 4. Open the lid and prepare to be… well, underwhelmed. The rusted and bent nail looks as if it’s seen better days, and it has. This nail came from the Old Bloom Mill House. During its transformation, as I walked the property, I nearly stepped on this nail, which might have altered the whole story I’m about to tell. Instead, I spotted the nail, like a copper penny on the ground, picked it up, and slid it in my pocket like a good luck charm. How desperate I must have been to think a rusty, old nail would serve such a purpose… This rusted nail should be hung fourth down on your tree. I’ve tied a gold ribbon around its head.
Here’s the story behind it.
The day I drove home from New York on my way back to Bloom, it rained the entire trip. Looking back, I can’t decide if it was actually raining or if it was just my tears blurring my vision that gray afternoon because the windshield wipers couldn’t seem to make anything more clear. Truthfully, I’m shocked I made it back to the house where I grew up. But I did.
I was home. That’s how I felt when I passed the WELCOME TO BLOOM sign. Some part of me also felt like I was returning with my tail between my legs and a secret baby in my belly.
I didn’t want anyone to know about the pregnancy at first. Least of all Ralph. I’d left him with no good-bye, just like he told me to. And I was terrified he might not take me back. I wouldn’t if I were in his shoes. My worst fear was that he wouldn’t want our baby.
It was ours, of course. I’d never been with any man before Ralph. He was my one and my only.
All I knew as I drove those miles back to North Carolina was that I did want the baby. Whether it was a him or a her. Or one of each. Twins run in the family, you know. I hadn’t even been to a doctor yet to confirm the pregnancy, but I didn’t need to. A woman knows these things even if she’s never experienced them before.
My first stop when I returned to Bloom was my parents’ house. I parked inside their garage, went inside the house, and closed myself off in my childhood bedroom. I didn’t show my face for three days. On the third day, my mother knocked on my bedroom door and came in without waiting for me to respond.
“How far along are you?” she asked with a knowing look.
The tears exploded out of me. Uncontrollable sobs. Holding in a secret is so lonely, but I didn’t know how to tell them. I knew they’d be so disappointed in me and, after a lifetime of trying to be the good girl, the one my parents could brag about to their friends, I felt like a failure. I couldn’t face her. Instead, I turned my gaze out the window that overlooked my mother’s beautiful flower garden in the backyard. “I-I don’t know.” My voice was barely more than a whisper, and my body was trembling. My cheeks were wet with the tears streaming down.
My mother stepped over and kneeled at my bedside. She laid a gentle hand on my forearm. “Does Ralph know?”
I shook my head quickly, nearly choking on my sobs. “I haven’t spoken to him since I left town. I made him promise that we wouldn’t… he couldn’t…” I could barely get the words out, and I didn’t want to explain. Explaining made me feel like a bad person. There were all these ideas in my head about how things were supposed to look and feel and be. Having a baby was supposed to feel joyful, and that wasn’t at all how I felt. I was scared. Lonely. Heartbroken. I’d even heard that Ralph had been seen around town with an old classmate of mine. “Does Daddy know?”
When my mother didn’t answer, I finally looked in her direction.
What I saw was so unexpected. There was no disappointment in my mother’s eyes. Instead, I saw warmth. “Mom?” I asked again.
She squeezed my forearm, a tiny hug and show of support. “Men aren’t as intuitive when it comes to these things. And your father is more clueless than most.” She laughed quietly. Then her expression grew serious. “Is this something you can live with? Leaving your dreams of Broadway behind to raise a child? It isn’t easy. In fact, motherhood is the hardest thing you’ll ever do.”
I’d been asking myself the same question since the moment I knew. “Broadway wasn’t what I thought it’d be.” I took a steadying breath. In Bloom, I had been the best. I don’t say that in an egotistical way. A person knows when they’re good at something, and I knew I was good. Every time I stepped onstage, my entire body had this electric feeling, buzzing from my head to my toes. That’s how I felt onstage in Bloom, at least. But in New York, there were hundreds of young women just like me, all competing for the same role. It was a wake-up call. I was no longer buzzing. No longer happy. After dozens of auditions, I got the smallest of roles—smaller than anything I’d ever played before. “I’ve always thought theater was like playing dress-up, but that’s not how it felt when I was there,” I told her.
My mother looked at me as if she were reading me like a book. I’m not sure how long that moment lasted, but when she was finished, she took a quick breath and expelled it quietly. “Nannie, this is what we’re going to do.” She was in full mom-mode, even though she’d been great about giving me my independence once I was eighteen. “I’ve saved quite a bit of money. When I married your father, my mama told me to put away a couple of dollars here and a couple there. In case a time ever came when I needed to get out of a situation.”
“With Daddy?” I asked, surprised.
She waved her hand as if to erase whatever thoughts were rushing into my mind. “I realized long ago that wouldn’t be an issue. Your father isn’t perfect, but he tries. And he loves me. I’ve never for a moment questioned that.”
It struck me that Mama didn’t say she loved him too.
“The mill is for sale,” she finally said decisively. “We’re going to buy it.”
I honestly had no idea what my mother was talking about. “A mill?” Did she think I had come home pregnant, dejected, and desperate enough to run a mill? I had no training or knowledge of what even happened in a mill.
“We’ll buy it and turn it into a theater. All these years, watching you onstage in the school cafeterias or random buildings, I always thought that Bloom should have a proper stage. A community theater.”
Pride was reflected in her eyes. When I’d wondered how she’d react when I finally told her my secret, I’d never imagined her offering to buy an old mill and turn it into a theater.
“Mom, that will cost a small fortune,” I whispered, too afraid to hope that her idea had any merit. And what kind of community theater could possibly be built inside a building that was halfway falling apart?
“Good. Because I listened to my mother.”
At that time, my grandmother was suffering early-onset dementia. The grandmother I knew wasn’t the wise woman who my mama loved to tell me about. Leaning in, as if telling me something very important, only for my ears, my mother said, “Because a small fortune is exactly what I’ve stored up all these years. And now I’m giving it to you.”
The thing about nails is that they may be small, but they’re strong. They weather the storm, even if they come out a bit rusty. Nails have teeth and they can do a lot of damage with one misstep. Have you ever stepped on one? Oh, but in the right conditions, a nail can build homes, cities… a theater. A nail can even build a dream.
Chapter Nine
Every now and then, when you’re onstage, you hear the best sound a player can hear.… It is the sound of a wonderful, deep silence that means you’ve hit them where they live.
—Shelley Winters
Mallory’s chest ached as she finished reading an entry in Nan’s journal and looked up at her grandmother.
Nan held up the ornament, rolling the piece of metal between her fingertips and inspecting it as if she’d never seen a nail before. “What did you call this again?”
“The Rustic Nail Ornament,” Mallory said, hoping with every fiber of her being that Nan would remember.
Nan shook her head on a deep chuckle that almost sounded like the old Nan. “The Rustic Nail Ornament,” she repeated. “Who ever heard of such a thing?”
Mallory took hold of the ornament and allowed the nail to sway from its ribbon looped over the edge of her fingertips. “I’m going to hang it on the Christmas tree in the community room. Would you like to come with me?”
Nan blinked. “Yes, I would. We’ll need a ladder. It needs to hang near the top. Fourth from the top,” she said automatically.
Mallory resisted the surge of hope that sprung up inside her. “Oh? Why do you say that?”
“Because that’s where it belongs, dear,” she answered, sounding like the Nan that Mallory had known until about twelve months ago.
That was all Mallory needed. Just that little nugget to keep her going.
“Well, let’s go hang the Rustic Nail Ornament, shall we? I’ll make sure I find a stepladder so that I can hang it, fourth from the top.”
Nan looked pleased, her eyes sparkling.
Mallory helped her sit on the edge of her bed and then transferred her to a wheelchair. Nan could walk, but she was unstable at long distances, and Mallory preferred for Nan to spend her energy visiting rather than getting exercise. “Did you enjoy the dance the other night?” she asked as she pushed Nan’s chair.
“Oh, yes. I danced with the nicest man,” she said.
Mallory wondered if she was talking about Hollis. As far as Mallory had seen, Hollis was the only man Nan had danced with. After that, she’d seemed worn-out. Exhausted from either being on her feet or from her emotions.
“A nice man, huh?” Mallory grinned at the description. Nice was an understatement. She rolled Nan’s chair to the tree and stopped when they were just a few feet away.
“It’s so big!” Nan said, as if she’d never seen it.
“The largest from Pop’s Tree Farm.” Mallory’s mind slid back to her trip to the farm with Hollis when they’d picked out a much smaller tree. Things worked out for a reason though, because if that little tree had gone up in her grandmother’s room, this huge one in front of them probably wouldn’t be here, already full of so many ornaments and memories that belonged to the other residents.
That day at the tree farm was when things had started to change between Mallory and Hollis. There’d been a shift, and Mallory had started to see Hollis differently, as more than a friend.
Nan brought her hands together at her chest and cleared her throat, drawing Mallory’s attention. “Are you thinking about a special someone?”
“Hmm?” Mallory asked, blinking away the memory of the tree farm and refocusing on Nan.
“You’re glowing. Like the tree.” She pointed to the blue fir in front of them.
Mallory shook her head. “No. No, I’m just thinking about, well, a good friend.”
Nan ignored Mallory’s claim. “I had a special person once too, you know?”
Mallory pulled up a chair from a nearby table and sat it beside Nan’s wheelchair. “Who was he?” Even though the journals mentioned a man named Ralph, Mallory didn’t know who that was. Nan had never spoken about this person who’d been so important to her. Were the journal writings a false memory that Nan had penned during the initial moments of her Alzheimer’s?
Nan seemed to think, her demeanor shifting from light to heavy as she shook her head.
Mallory reached for her grandmother’s wrinkled hand. “It’s okay.” She knew how upset Nan got during these moments where she struggled and failed to recall her past. Instead of pressing, Mallory diverted Nan’s attention by holding up the Rustic Nail Ornament again. “Fourth from the top, right?” she asked with a cheery tone, hoping Nan would relax.
“Yes. Fourth from the top.”
“Okay.” There was a stepladder against the wall that Mallory had used to string the lights. “I need to hang the first three first,” Mallory went on. They were in the bag as well. “The Santa Hat Tree Topper. The Butterfly Barrette Ornament. The Wildflower Ornament. Then the Rustic Nail Ornament.” Mallory stood, grabbed the ladder, and set it up in front of the tree. One by one, she carried each keepsake to the top as Nan watched.
When Mallory was done, she looked at Nan. “I’ll hang some more with you tomorrow. But tonight, I need to get to the theater for the play.”
“Play?” Nan’s face lit up. “Oh, I’ve always loved the theater.”
“Oh?” Mallory asked, as if she didn’t know. “If you want, I’ll take you to the play on opening night. Would you like that?”
Nan looked uncertain. “My home is here now. I don’t want to leave.”
And that’s why Mallory needed to do whatever it took to keep Nan here at Memory Oaks. Whether it meant working extra shifts at the hospital or listening to Maddie justify why they should sell the theater after this final show.
Nan had cared for Mallory and Maddie when they were children, and Mallory needed to return the favor and take the best care of Nan that she could. Reaching down, she squeezed Nan’s hand. “Let’s get you back to your room, Gr—” She stopped herself, remembering how upset Nan had gotten last time she’d said the grandma word, and continued wheeling Nan to her room where she helped her back into her recliner. “Okay, off to the theater I go,” she said on her way out. “See you tomorrow.”
“Break a leg!” Nan called behind her, giving Mallory pause. And hope. Nan was still here, though hard to find.
A noise coming from the attic of the theater got Mallory’s attention. The theater was old, and it creaked when the wind blew. Still, she looked up in the direction of the attic as she listened attentively. Then she screamed as the front entrance door to the theater burst open.
“Ho, ho, ho!” Hollis stopped in his tracks and stood on the indoor mat, his brows crinkling as she relaxed back into her natural posture. “You all right?”
Heat crawled up her cheeks. “You scared me.”
“Me?” Hollis dug a finger into his chest.
“You ever heard of knocking?” she teased.
He grinned in response. “The sign on the door says COME ON IN. Want me to leave?”
“Of course not. You’re the first to arrive for play practice. That bodes well for you as our lead actor. Punctuality is a plus. That’s what Nan always said.” Mallory tilted her head. “Speaking of Nan, she told me about that dance you two shared. I think she has a soft spot for you.”
Hollis stood a little taller and puffed out his chest. “Must be my handsome good looks.”
Mallory knew he was only teasing, but she couldn’t argue. He had a rugged look about him that she’d never really been attracted to. In the past, she’d dated guys who worked at the hospital, polished and prone to tucked-in polos and fancy cologne. Not Hollis. He was different, in a good way. “I appreciate how good you are to Nan.”
Hollis gave Mallory a long look. “She means a lot to me too, you know. Your grandmother stood by me at my worst. Can’t say that about too many people. I’m a loyal guy.”
“Is that why you still work on Matt’s construction crew?” Mallory wasn’t sure where the question came from, but she could see that it visibly hit a nerve with Hollis. His gaze dropped, and he shifted uncomfortably.
