The Memory Keeper: A heartwarming, feel-good romance

by Jenny Hale

  “Warren is Casanova!” Georgia said with a laugh. “He’s totally moving in on her! And while she has a boyfriend too?” She pursed her lips playfully and shook her head.

  The idea that Pop-pop had any dating game whatsoever made Hannah laugh out loud. He’d never try to steal another woman on purpose. “I do think he was smitten with Gran, but he’d never have made a move until he knew she wasn’t taken. He was too good a man.”

  “Read another entry!” Georgia said.

  Hannah didn’t mind the request at all. The mess in the shop would still be there when they’d finished reading, and she was enjoying herself. “Okay, one more and then we have to get some work done.”

  “Of course,” Georgia agreed.

  July 2, 1943

  I got a letter from Charles!

  Georgia gasped. “This is like a movie!” Then she mimed buttoning her lips shut and said, “Sorry,” with them pressed together. She ran her finger in circles in the air to gesture for Hannah to keep going.

  Hannah continued.

  In my hand, I’m holding the battered envelope addressed in his handwriting, trembling with excitement. I can’t wait to open it! I’ll write down everything he says on the lines that follow so I can keep it in this journal forever. I’m opening the letter now. Oh, I can see more of his lovely handwriting! He says—

  Hannah stopped reading.

  “What does it say?” Georgia leaned over the journal, trying to view the last sentence.

  “There’s nothing there,” Hannah said, showing it to her. “It just stops, mid-sentence.”

  “Well, turn the page! You can’t end like that!”

  She peered down at the half-sheet of empty lines below that last word. Confused, Hannah turned the page.

  July 3, 1943

  I am writing through my tears. I’ve cried all night and Mr. Williams has threatened to fire me for not giving notice, but I couldn’t go to work today. I can hardly move. I wasn’t able to write it before, and I can hardly do it now, but Charles’s letter said:

  My dearest Faye,

  If you’re reading this, then they’ve found me in the fields and sent my final goodbye to you. I’ll keep this letter in the pocket of my jacket every single day I have to go into battle, so that no matter what, I’ll get to say I love you. I hate this war and the time it has stolen from us, but I want you to go on and be happy. Do the things you love. Don’t waste time doing anything else.

  All my love,

  Charles

  “Oh, that’s so sad.” Georgia’s face had dropped, her body still. “What a terrible thing to have happened.”

  “Yeah…” Gran’s comment about the two sides of the coin came back to Hannah, and it really hit her how different Gran’s life would’ve been if Charles had survived the war. It was bittersweet to believe that things had happened for the best, the way they were meant to happen. For Hannah to have been born and have a life, Charles had to pay with his own.

  “That’s a somber note to start cleaning on. Can we read just one more?”

  “It might depress us even further,” Hannah said, still lost in thought.

  “It’s worth a shot.”

  “All right.” In an odd way, the journal was helping her see her priorities more clearly. It spoke to her. She moved on to the next entry.

  August 15, 1943

  We had a summer thunderstorm all day today, and then the sun shone so brightly afterwards that I could hardly see when I walked to the floral company. On my way, a rainbow arched over the flower shop and I couldn’t wait to get inside to tell Minnie. She told me it was a sign that happiness is all around us, if we just pay attention and look up instead of down. Then she put a record on her RCA turntable, grabbed my hands, and we danced. I laughed so hard and it felt just glorious. While my grief still comes in waves, I promised myself more moments like that one. It was then that I realized I hadn’t been to the soda fountain in a long time. Minnie said she’d deliver the bouquets for me tomorrow afternoon, and she even gave me a nickel to get a soda.

  “Perfect entry to end on! And I’ve got something to lift our spirits that fits right in.” Hannah set the journal on the counter and went to the back corner of the shop, where Gran kept her old record player. She pulled out the “Rockin’ Robin” record and put it on, turning the volume up.

  “I never knew that it was Minnie who first danced with Gran. What a wonderful woman she seemed to be for my grandmother. When I was a little girl, Gran and I used to dance around the shop to this song. I guess I can thank Minnie for that.”

  Twenty

  Hannah and Georgia closed up the shop and headed home in the dark of night. They’d worked like crazy to get everything straight, and The Memory Keeper was as neat as a pin and ready for cleaning and painting tomorrow. They had organized the paperwork, called a landscaping company who’d be there tomorrow, researched a couple of painters to get quotes, and weeded the sidewalk outside. While they were out there, they’d spent a long time planning other ways to spruce up the exterior.

  When they’d gotten back to Gran’s house and had dinner, Georgia took Jerry outside, and Hannah was just helping her mother finish cleaning the kitchen when her phone lit up with a text from Liam: Sorry it’s so late. I was wondering if you’d talk to Noah. Could you do a video call with him?

  She texted back: Of course. Although it was an odd request at such an hour—it was nearly 8 p.m. After a very long day, she was ready to shower, get her pajamas on, and settle in for the night.

  Her phone vibrated, so she answered it as she made her way back to Gran’s room. Liam’s face surfaced on the screen. “I’m sorry again, but my mom’s gone out tonight for the benefit I told you about. It’s just Noah and me. He doesn’t want me to read his bedtime story. He said he wanted me to call you and have you read it.”

  “What?” The idea of Noah asking for her gave her an unexpected flutter of happiness.

  “He’s actually teary-eyed over it. If I text you the words, will you read them to him while I turn the pages?”

  “Bedtime stories can’t be read over a phone,” she said. “Why don’t I just come over and read it to him?”

  “You sure you wouldn’t mind?”

  “Not at all. I need to jump in the shower really quickly, though. I’ve been cleaning the shop all day.”

  “No problem. I’ll text you the address.” His face turned away from the screen. “Noah, Hannah’s coming over to read your story to you, okay?” He turned his phone to show Noah, whose bottom lip was wobbling.

  “I’ll be there in just a bit,” she told him.

  Noah nodded.

  “See you soon,” Liam said.

  Right when she ended the call, an email came in from Amanda. Here are the articles for the spread…

  Hannah ignored it for the time being, and after a quick shower she headed off to see Liam and Noah.

  Taking stock of her surroundings, Hannah pulled her dad’s truck onto the shoulder of the winding country road and checked the navigation one more time. There was nothing but farmland on either side for as far as she could see, but the navigation kept telling her she’d arrived at her location.

  She looked ahead of her, and way down the street she made out a lone mailbox. Could that be it? Hannah put the old truck in gear and headed down toward it. When she arrived at the mailbox, she put down the window, the cool air rushing in, and squinted to see what was at the end of the single-lane dirt drive, but it was so dark that her headlights didn’t give her enough light.

  She put the truck in park and tapped on her phone, describing where she was and asking Liam if she was at the right place.

  He returned, You’re here. Come on down the drive. The house is a couple miles off the road.

  Hannah turned in and bumped her way down the long lane, past the fields and through the trees, slowing to look at their massive trunks stretching into the heavens, their barren branches like arms reaching over her. Rows of crops lined the path for as far as her
headlights could reach, each field boasting its wares with adorably painted wooden signs on the edges—lettuce, cauliflower, pumpkins, cucumbers… She continued all the way to a mass of gorgeous ancient oak trees that picked up where the fields left off, lining the path in single file. At the very end, she thought she could make out the hint of an old farmhouse. She was willing to bet that with the coming spring, the leaves would create a shady canopy above the path. Eventually, the colossal farmhouse came into view and Hannah gasped.

  The stunning structure was obviously historical, with two chimneys on either side of the tin roof. Rocking chairs dotted its wide front porch that wrapped around three sides of the house, and all she could think was how much Gran would love this old house… Could she use photos of it for the magazine?

  The front door swung open and Noah came out, standing on the porch in railroad pajamas and sock feet. As Hannah shut off the engine and got out, Liam joined Noah to greet her.

  “My goodness, I’m cold just looking at you in your socks out here on the porch,” Hannah teased the little boy, dropping the keys into her handbag as Liam opened the door wider to allow her inside.

  The interior of the home had been renovated—no house built in that time period had an open floor plan with a wall of French doors leading to a covered back porch capped by a stone fireplace. The ceilings in the main room that housed the kitchen, den, and dining areas were vaulted and striped with exposed beams jutting from one wall to the other.

  The kitchen matched the living area—everything done in whitewashed wood with dark-blue accents. An old metal retailer sign listing various vegetables and their prices leaned stylishly against the corner next to the oversized farmhouse table.

  “Ready for your stories?” Liam said to Noah. “We need to get you in bed. It’s way past your bedtime.”

  Noah took Hannah’s hand and walked with her down the hallway.

  “I didn’t know your grandmother was a farmer,” she said to Noah, wondering how one woman could take care of this whole farm all by herself.

  “Yes. She grows lots of stuff for the shops and the farmer’s markets,” he told her as they walked. “I get to have all the strawberries I can eat.” They stopped at an open door. “This is my room when I’m at Grandma’s house.”

  Hannah stepped inside. A model train and track circled the ceiling and there were more locomotives on the bedding. “Do you like trains?” Hannah asked.

  “Yeah,” Noah replied. “My grandpa used to collect them.” He grabbed a book and held it out to her before crawling under his covers.

  “Oh, that’s nice.” She kneeled down at the side of his bed and opened the book. As Noah snuggled under his blanket, Hannah started to read. Noah looked at her with sleepy eyes, complete innocence in them, and her heart wanted to burst. Suddenly, she longed for moments like these, building her family, and spending precious slips of time knowing that it was about so much more than just the story she was reading. Before she could even get the book finished, he was asleep.

  She realized Liam was watching her intently, curiosity in his eyes, and a fond smile on his lips.

  “He was tired,” she whispered to him as they left the room.

  Liam closed the door, latching it quietly. “He was exhausted. It took all his energy to stay up until you arrived. Sorry you had to come all the way out for that.”

  “It’s no problem,” she said. “I enjoy being with him.”

  Liam smiled. “We went round and round about reading his stories until he asked to call you. He didn’t want me to do it.”

  “Don’t you normally read him his stories?” Hannah asked.

  A guarded look came over him. “His nanny reads them usually,” he said. “She’s typically the one there with him when he goes to bed.”

  Hannah nodded. “That has to be difficult for you, not to see him before he goes to sleep,” she said, as they walked together back down the hallway to the living area.

  “Yes. It’s… hard.”

  Hannah understood grief and how it could ravage the mind and heart. As much as a month after Pop-pop’s funeral, she could be going along with her normal day and still burst into tears over him, the finality of him being gone totally overwhelming her.

  “While you’re here, can I ask a totally random favor?” Liam asked.

  “What’s that?” she replied.

  “My mom needs a dish to take to her book club tomorrow, and I told her I’d help her make one, since she’ll be out so late tonight.”

  “That’s nice of you,” Hannah said.

  “It was the least I could do to repay her for watching Noah for a week, and having to rush home to get to her benefit with him in tow.”

  Hannah stepped up beside him. “What are you going to make?”

  “That’s just it. I have no idea. I’m not really a cook…”

  She laughed quietly so as not to wake Noah. “So you want me to think of a dish and help you make it?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Well, you’ve got the right person,” Hannah told him. “I love cooking and I don’t get to do it enough.” She took him by the arm. “Take me to your kitchen, sir,” she teased. “Let’s see what ingredients you have.”

  “I think my mother was scared to see what I was going to come up with—I could tell by her face,” Liam said. “I’m sure she’s expecting a bag of chips and peanut butter sandwiches.”

  “She’ll be very surprised then. There won’t be a peanut butter sandwich in sight,” Hannah said as she peeked into the fridge. “She’s got a great array of vegetables… And what’s this?” she asked, pulling out a large tub and removing the covering. “Oh! Chicken—that works.” She handed it to Liam who set it on the counter. “Do you have a deep dish I can use to make a casserole?”

  Hannah washed her hands, drying them on the kitchen towel while Liam pulled a baking dish from the cupboard and set it next to the chicken.

  “What vegetables do we need?” he asked, as he got out a bunch of carrots and an onion.

  “Definitely grab the broccoli. Do you have any other vegetables in the freezer? Oh, and I’ll need a few large bowls for combining ingredients.”

  While he opened the freezer door and took a look, Hannah asked, “Who cooks for you at home in Charleston?”

  “I just order prepared food—I usually work through my mealtimes. Elise, the nanny, cooks for Noah.”

  “When was the last time you sat down at a table and had a nice dinner?”

  He stopped and turned toward her, homing in on her. “At your grandmother’s with you.”

  Hannah’s cheeks flushed, and she took in a breath to keep the flutter that the memory had caused at bay. “I meant before that,” she said, but he was already remembering that night again too, she could tell.

  Then, all of a sudden, he closed right up. “I don’t recall,” he answered. He pulled a bag from the open freezer. “Mom has these mixed garden veggies. They’re already diced—”

  “What’s wrong?” she asked bluntly. She took a step toward him. “You can tell me. We’re friends, remember?” The word “friend” felt odd on her lips, like it didn’t fit who they were.

  “I haven’t had a regular dinner since Alison…” he admitted. “And then you.” His eyes met hers again, uncertainty swimming around in them.

  “Have you eaten tonight?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You didn’t eat with Noah?” she wondered aloud.

  He shook his head. “Well, I did nip a chicken finger,” he said with a smirk in her direction. “But that’s long gone.”

  She grinned at him, thinking. “We should double the recipe then.” She hadn’t planned on eating, but maybe she could get him to open up about his relationship with his son. She flicked on the radio in the corner of the kitchen, turning the volume low, the tunes filtering into the air around them. “Are you free now?”

  “I am,” he replied.

  “Perfect,” she said. “We could find some matches and li
ght that candle over on the table? That would be nice.”

  Liam pulled a lighter from the drawer and went over to the candle.

  “How about herbs—got any of those? We need parsley, salt, pepper, and chives if you have them. Oh! And I saw some cream and butter in the fridge. If you have flour and baking powder, we can make a dish that will set your world on fire.”

  “What’s the dish?”

  “It’s my gran’s famous Buttermilk Chicken Pickin’.”

  “Now that sounds like a dinner I’d like to dig into,” Liam said. “The ingredients alone sound terrifyingly delicious.” He handed her a bowl from the cabinet.

  “Does your job require so much of your time that you have to work through your meals?” Hannah asked, curious, getting the flour and then measuring out what she needed.

  “Yes,” he replied. “My dad always wanted me to do what I love—he told me that all the time. So I’m using my inheritance to build my company. My partner and I started small, but now I want to invest my inheritance money in the business to expand.” He handed her the baking powder as she reached for it.

  She tried not to focus on the glaring warning sign—he was building a company that took up so much of his time that he ate at his desk and left his son with a full-time nanny. “What’s the business?” she asked.

  “I acquire parcels of land, and either renovate or build large retail and business developments on them, and then sell them. I’ve actually just acquired the vacant shops on the corner of Main Street and Ivy Lane downtown.”

  Hannah knew those streets. That was the strip of shops currently blocking The Memory Keeper from the view of Main Street. “Oh, do you know what shops are going up there yet?” she asked. If the right retail came in, people might venture down Ivy Lane and find Gran’s shop.