* * *
When we crave something like pancakes, it’s because we remember the smell and taste, but it’s also because we remember how we felt when we ate them. Like when Gram made me a Minnie Mouse–shaped pancake, the kitchen was warm and Clay was laughing while I made faces at him. Emotional moments affect how we remember. I’m happy when I smell pancakes because it reminds me of Gram making them for me.
I know I will always remember how I feel at this second here with Gram. We’re alone in the house since my parents took Clay to the park. I sip my hot chocolate and nibble at the cinnamon roll she’s made. The entire house smells like warm sugar and vanilla.
“I’m thrilled you told your parents about your memory,” she says.
“They were pretty amazing about it, actually.” I shrug, trying to act like it’s no big deal. My mouth doesn’t cooperate, and I can’t hold back a smile.
“Well, I won’t say I told you so.…” Gram’s eyes sparkle.
I laugh. “But you told me so.”
She holds her hand up in an exaggerated shrug. Her smile fades after a second and her expression turns serious. “I’m sorry for scaring you last night.”
“I think it was because you were emotional about…” I point to the journal.
“Perhaps,” she acknowledges. “Yakov called me again this morning to check up on me. He wanted me to tell you to come see him again.”
“You and Yakov,” I say, picking my way slowly through what I want to ask. “Why can’t…? Why can’t you be together now? He still loves you. You know that, right?”
“And I will always love him.” She picks up the journal. “I want to read you my last entry. I’ve told you most of it, but this will finish the story, yes?”
I scoot closer and she begins to read. She translates as she reads and remembers. Her accent thickens, the words slow and heavy:
Tatyana’s journal:
June 7, 1968
My beloved journal, you have traveled with me through many a hard time, and I will always be grateful to Mama for insisting I write in you. I write this last entry on my wedding day. No more writing in Russian after this.
I am marrying a wonderful man who loves me dearly. I thought I would never love again, or at least not as much as I love Jacob (for I still love him—I always will). But then I met Daniel. He is smart, funny, and passionate about so many of the same things I am. I know we will have a wonderful life together.
He knows about Russia and Papa. He knows everything, and I trust him to keep my secrets. I never see Jacob and Margaret, but we still keep in touch. To cut the thread would be to kill us. I need to know he is safe, and he needs to know I am happy.
They have a son, a little boy named Bobby. I hope to have children one day soon. I hope it will be a little girl who I can someday tell my stories to. I will tell her about Russia when she is old enough to understand. Perhaps we will travel there one day together.
Daniel asks if I wish to visit Papa. I think I won’t dare it. It would destroy Mama if she knew. I do miss him, despite how he treated us. He will always be my papa. But it is best to forget, I think. So, for now, I will shut that part of my life away. I will close this book and begin another. Finally.
I dream of love, of happiness, of a life well lived. I believe my Daniel and I will have all these things.
Gram’s voice trembles with emotion as she speaks about my grandfather. Her love flows from her journal and out into the air around her. I file it away. Each second, each minute.
Gram closes the book and rests her hand on the top. “And we did. We had a good life full of love, and I don’t regret any of it. Jacob is married, and I cannot ever get in the way of a marriage. We are what we were in the beginning—the very best of friends. It is enough.”
“But… don’t you want to be together?” I think about how feelings can change over time, and I can’t help but think of how I used to feel about Max. How the smirk I used to find so irritating is now sort of cute.
“We are together,” she says patiently. “We are best friends, and we always will be. It is true and strong, and sometimes this is better than the romance.”
I’m not sure I like this explanation. It isn’t the happy ending I want. But maybe there are different kinds of happy endings. Not everything happens the way we want it to. All the areas of our brains—neurotransmitters, glial cells, neurons, and the many things I’ve studied to make sense of how memory works—are interconnected and work in a spectacular way.
Until they don’t.
“Did Yakov tell you what I told him about your memory loss?” I ask gently.
She grimaces and nods abruptly. “Yes. I hope it isn’t true. Do I really forget so much? I know I get confused at times. And, of course, last night was concerning. But surely it’s not too bad?”
I promised my parents I would tell Gram the truth, so I do. “You forget something every day,” I say, spitting my words out fast so I can’t take them back. “Sometimes, for just a second, you even forget who I am.”
She closes her eyes briefly, but not before I see the flicker of pain. “You need to promise me something, Lulu.”
“Yes, Gram?”
She looks straight at me, her gaze piercing the exposed fragments of my heart. “You will put all this away in your phenomenal memory and keep it safe. Can you do that for me?”
I nod, giant tears plopping onto my knees. “I will.”
“If I’m like my mama, then it will take years for me to completely forget. In the meantime, keep reminding me, yes? And I will try to listen. You will make me listen. You will tell me my stories. The ones I give to you.”
“Every day,” I promise.
“It’s how I keep my mama alive,” she says with a sad smile. “I remember her life. As long as you have those little pieces of them, then the person is never really gone. They’re always close by.”
She seems to know, as she always does, what I need. She opens her arms to me, and I hug her tight, absorbing the deceptive strength of her as she gathers me close on her lap.
“Gram,” I say, “how do you say ‘I love you’ in Russian?”
Her fingers thread gently through my hair. “Ya tebya lyublyu.”
I repeat the words slowly, imagining Gram’s mother saying them to her. “Lyublyu,” I whisper.
We stay this way until her arms tremble with my weight, until I have no more tears left, until she’s answered every last one of my questions.
37. Lulu’s Journal
July 20, 2019
Gram gave me this journal to help me make sense of everything happening. She says if I write down what I’m afraid of, it won’t have such power over me.
My name is Lulu Rose Carter, and I’m twelve, almost thirteen. I love reading books and riding my horse, Remy, and I love my family.
If this summer taught me anything, it’s that just because you forget something doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. It’s still written in the pathways of your heart and the hearts of those you love. Our memories are fragile. They break easily and with no real reason. But the emotions they carve in our souls last forever.
Gram’s hand in mine, her pancakes on cold mornings, her no-nonsense laugh, the way she listens to me, the love in her eyes when she watches Clay play, the patience when Mom needed it, the strength when she helped Dad keep his family together. Gram is in each of these memories.
I will never forget.
I fill a notebook with Gram’s stories. But I also begin to write my own. And I’m starting to understand why Mom paints, and how art can help make sense of life.
A story for Clay: “The Brave Knight”
There was once a girl who swallowed her grandmother’s memory. It grew inside her and gave her the ability to remember everything. A special power that brought with it great responsibility.
The girl tried to give her grandmother back the memory. But she learned that memories are mysterious and deeply personal. How we see them depends on who we are.
The girl traveled the world looking for a cure for her grandmother. Her faithful friends helped her find a man from a distant land who promised to have all the answers. Only, his answers created more questions, until everything she knew was a tangled maze.
Then, one day, she found a book of memories. The girl read the book to her grandmother every day. Every night her grandmother would visit the girl in her dreams, and this was the only place the girl felt truly loved.
Loneliness plagued the girl until she finally confessed to her parents all she’d done. Her father and mother opened their hearts to the girl. They promised to care for her grandmother, but there was nothing they could do to make her well again. And this was when the girl learned that some things have no cure.
The girl’s extraordinary memory was the only solution. She would keep a file in her brain. Each memory labeled and stored safely forever.
This is how the girl became the Memory Keeper. She filed her grandmother’s memories with a secret key. Only the bravest knight with the noblest heart could access the memories. The key, my noble knight, is a top secret riddle. Solve it and the treasure is yours.
What fills the cracks in a heart
And is stronger than glue?
In the Russian language
It rhymes with “you.”
Lyublyu
люблю
Acknowledgments
Thank you to the many people who have made this book possible:
Stacey Glick, my fabulous agent, thank you for believing in me and helping me believe in myself.
Tricia Lin, my whip-smart editor, a million thanks for understanding Lulu and helping me uncover her story. For patiently answering all my questions. And, most of all, thank you for making this whole experience a joyful one.
A huge thank-you to the entire team at Aladdin: Alyson Heller, Mara Anastas, Heather Palisi, Mike Rosamilia, Katherine Devendorf, Sara Berko, Caitlin Sweeny, Michelle Leo, and Nicole Russo. Thank you, Aveline Stokart, for my spectacular cover. I couldn’t love it more! Thanks to my copy editor, Penina Lopez, for your detailed edits and for catching my inconsistencies. Thank you, also, to Amy Cloud for being the first one to fall in love with The Memory Keeper and for bringing me to the Aladdin/S&S family.
I want to thank all my first readers: Nicole Hohmann, Kimberly Gabriel, Kimberly MacCarron, Annette Christy, Gia Camiccia, Christine Grissom, Taylor Gardner, Liz Edelbrock, and Elise Bungo. Shout-out to my literati critique group: Suzi Guina, Kaitlin Hundscheid, Tara Creel, Katie Nelson, and Heidi Lang. A special thanks to Malia and Renée for helping me with the Russian words and names in the book.
Thanks to my Pitch Wars mentor, Kristin Wright, for showing me how to revise, and to Brenda Drake for starting such a great contest. Thanks to all my Pitch Wars 2016 people who let me vent and always encourage me to continue writing. Thank you to my Golden Heart sisters, the Rebelles, who inspire me with how hard they work and how supportive they continue to be. And thanks to all the talented writers in my Novel Nineteens debut group and the Class of 2K19 books.
If we are mindful of the small moments that make our lives special, then each of us can be memory keepers for those we love, and they in turn for us.
For my family:
Thank you, Stanley, for always supporting me and never complaining when we have pizza for dinner. Thank you to Nicolas, for telling everyone I was a writer way before I thought of myself as one. To Tessa Jewel, who is always my first reader. Thank you for your honesty and belief in me—you always make each book better. To Vince, who told me to remember Dr. Seuss, and to never give up on my dream. I hope I’ve inspired you to reach for yours. And thank you to Lucas, for offering to be my agent while I was querying and my publisher while I was on sub. You have all given me an abundance of memories to cherish each and every day. I love you more than you’ll ever know.
Thank you to Larry McKnight, who encouraged my love of reading, and to Terry Semerad, who reads everything I write—even when it’s a blazing trash fire. To Jean and Stan Camiccia, for watching my children so I can write. I love you all so much!
Thank you to Ryan, Melissa, and John. You made growing up an adventure that I plan to use in many future stories. To Chris—the best dad in the world (next to my husband and my brother, of course). Much appreciation and love to my sisters-in-law, Michele and Allyson. So much love to Stanzi, Jack, Rocco, Prezli, Pixxie, Reilly, and Dylan. Each of you inspires me with your unique personalities. Thank you, Cindy, for your kindness and generosity. To Dominic, thank you for making my daughter happy. Leah, thank you for being a kindred spirit.
To the rest of my extended family in Hawaii. To Aunt Jan who tapped my head and said, “What goes on in there?” after reading one of my books. To Uncle Larry, who always has the best nicknames. To Josh, Tina, and their families—I love you guys.
Finally, a special thank-you to my readers. I hope you enjoyed Lulu’s story!
About the Author
Author photograph by Stan Camiccia
Jennifer Camiccia has lived in the wilds of Los Angeles, where she wrote her first book at the tender age of five; Iran, where she developed a fear of camels and a fondness for pistachios; Hawaii, with its balmy breezes and memories of learning to swim; and the San Francisco Bay Area, where she now lives with her children and husband. Visit her online at jencamiccia.com or on Twitter @jencamiccia.
Aladdin
Simon & Schuster, New York
Visit us at simonandschuster.com/kids
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ALADDIN
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First Aladdin hardcover edition October 2019
Text copyright © 2019 by Jennifer Camiccia
Jacket illustration copyright © 2019 by Aveline Stokart
Interior illustrations by Jenna Stempel-Lobell copyright © 2019 by Simon & Schuster, Inc.
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Jacket designed by Heather Palisi
Interior designed by Mike Rosamilia
The illustrations for this book were rendered digitally.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Camiccia, Jennifer, author.
Title: The memory keeper / by Jennifer Camiccia.
Description: First Aladdin hardcover edition. | New York : Aladdin, 2019. |
Summary: Twelve-year-old Lulu Rose Carter’s memory improves greatly just as her beloved Gram becomes very forgetful, and Lulu begins to explore Gram’s past in an effort to save her.
Identifiers: LCCN 2018043943 (print) | LCCN 2018050580 (eBook) | ISBN 9781534439573 (eBook) | ISBN 9781534439559 (hc)
Subjects: | CYAC: Memory—Fiction. | Grandmothers—Fiction. | Secrets—Fiction. | Family life—Fiction. | Alzheimer’s disease—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.C328 (eBook) | LCC PZ7.C328 Mem 2019 (print) | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018043943
ry Keeper
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