The Memory Keeper: A heartwarming, feel-good romance

by Jenny Hale

  Twenty-Three

  “It’s been a long time,” Ethan said, hesitant, as he stood in his Wright’s Body Shop uniform and steel-tipped boots among the cans of paint. He was facing the blank wall at the back of The Memory Keeper, the old bravado Hannah used to see in his eyes replaced by uncertainty. What had happened to that swagger? He’d been hemming and hawing the entire time they’d shopped for paints, when the younger Ethan had breezed in and grabbed them with barely a single deliberation.

  “God’s gifts don’t fade. If He gave it to you, He won’t take it away.” Hannah put her hands on his shoulders. “You can do this,” she said, as Georgia looked on with Jerry in her arms.

  Ethan’s shoulders seemed tense, his lips set in a line as he concentrated. “What do you want on this wall?” he asked, clearly still not convinced.

  “A vintage Franklin Main Street skyline would be amazing,” she said.

  They’d picked up a variety of colors at the paint shop. Against the bright white walls and the furniture they were going to refinish, the colors would be a really nice backdrop to showcase the flowers, making the whole room bright and inviting.

  “I don’t think I can do it.”

  Georgia looked over at Hannah for an explanation.

  “Ethan,” Hannah said, walking up next to him. “You can do this.”

  Ethan folded his arms and shook his head, staring at the empty wall. Finally, he faced Hannah. “I’m sorry. I’m not doin’ this.” He started stacking the cans of paint against the wall.

  “Ethan, you’re the best. I need the best for this.”

  “I’m not the best anymore,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ve left the guys at the garage shorthanded, and I’ve gotta get back. I’ll walk if I have to.”

  “It’s just the one painting,” she said, trying to think of anything to help. She stood in front of him and looked into his eyes. “We’ve both changed, I know that,” she said gently. “A lot of time has passed since we were partners in crime.” She allowed a nostalgic smile. “But when I look at you, I see you, not only the guy in your dad’s uniform. That’s just a part of your life. But there’s so much more to you than that one thing.” She reached down and grabbed a paintbrush, holding it out to him. “I trust you. Now trust yourself, because you’re absolutely fantastic.”

  His jaw clenched harder the more she talked, his whole body tensing up. “Hannah, I need you to respect the fact that, the same way you’re not that girl I drove home from school with her boots propped up on the dashboard of my truck, I’m not that kid who drove you home. And while those parts of us are in our pasts, neither of us is the same, and we will never be those people again.”

  He strode over to the door. “You’ll find something else to put on that wall.” He opened the door and left.

  “Why did he walk out?” Georgia asked, her words tender, clearly affected by the exchange he and Hannah had just had.

  “I thought if he just got in here…” She gazed up at the blank wall. “Let’s make a list of the other things we need done, and then we’ll get started on those,” she said. “I’ll work on Ethan.”

  Hannah’s phone suddenly went off in her pocket with a message from Liam asking, What are you doing tonight?

  She texted back, Georgia is here with me. She’s staying at Gran’s. We were planning to work at Gran’s shop. Why?

  I was wondering if you’d like to go out to dinner with my mother, Noah, and me—my treat. You could bring Georgia with you. Would you all be free tonight?

  “Well, that’s a surprise,” Hannah said.

  “What is it?”

  “Are we free to go to dinner with Liam?” Hannah asked, glad for the distraction after what had just transpired with Ethan.

  Georgia had moved over to the back door and was letting Jerry out on a leash. “Of course,” she said. “That’s really kind of him.”

  “I’ll text him that we can, then. It’ll be nice to meet his mother and see Noah again.” Her fingers were already moving on her phone screen.

  “He’ll meet us downtown at six,” she said, reading his response when it came in, “so I suppose we should get home and get cleaned up. We’ll pick up where we left off tomorrow.”

  They gathered up their things and turned off the lights. As Hannah shut the door, that blank wall glared at her. “We’ve still got a lot of work to do,” she said, thinking about Ethan.

  “It’ll all work out,” Georgia said.

  “I hope you’re right.” Hannah locked the door behind them.

  Mary McGuire was a tiny thing, shuffling across the street next to Liam in navy-blue flats coordinated with her tailored belted coat, while she held Noah’s hand.

  “So you’re the casserole maker,” she said when she’d reached Hannah at the door to the corner restaurant.

  Noah wrapped his arms around Hannah’s legs and gave her a squeeze.

  “Hey, buddy,” she said, the little boy instantly lightening her mood. “Yes, that’s me,” she answered Mary. “And this is Georgia.”

  “Lovely to meet you, Georgia,” Mary said.

  Liam held the door to let them all in, the lamplight and candles giving the whole place a warm, cozy glow against a backdrop of black-and-white photos of town residents through the years that peppered the walls. He gave his name to the hostess, who walked them over to their table.

  Mary turned her focus to Hannah, fondness showing in her expression. “Hannah, it’s lovely to finally meet you. Liam has told me so much about you.”

  “He has?” Hannah asked, interested.

  Liam pulled out Hannah’s chair and she took a seat. “Actually, Noah has,” Liam said. “He was very excited to see you tonight.”

  “I want to sit here,” Noah said, pointing to the chair between Hannah and Georgia.

  Hannah scooted it away from the table to allow Noah to climb onto it.

  The waitress put a child’s paper menu with a pack of crayons in front of Noah and took their drink orders.

  “Why don’t we all share a bottle of wine?” Mary suggested. “I’m feeling festive. It’s so lovely to be out with family and friends.”

  “Of course, Mom. What are you thinking—red or white?”

  “What would you ladies prefer?”

  Hannah and Georgia both shook their heads politely, sending the choice back over to Mary.

  “I’m fine with either,” Hannah told her. “What’s your favorite?”

  “We should have Mickey’s red then, and our little guy will have milk,” Mary said to the waitress, who hurried off to fill their orders.

  “Mickey’s?” Hannah asked, having not heard of that wine before.

  Noah pushed his menu closer to Hannah and handed her a crayon. Then he wrote an X in the center of the tic-tac-toe board printed on it. Hannah marked her O.

  “Mickey Jones has a very exclusive private winery down the road from our farm,” Mary explained. “No one knows this, but he drops off only a couple of bottles here every day, and if you know to ask for it, they serve it, but for everyone else it’s off-menu.”

  “I feel like James Bond,” Georgia said with a sparkle in her eye, making Mary chuckle.

  “So I’ve heard about Hannah and how she’s here to visit her grandmother. Georgia, what brings you into town?” Mary asked.

  The waitress returned from the bar nearby with a bottle, offering a taste for Mary before pouring them each a glass. Hannah took a sip of the deliciously fruity and aromatic wine.

  “I’m here to find my parents,” Georgia said.

  Mary looked on, captivated. “Oh?”

  “I was adopted, and the agency can’t give me anything to go on, but I have a couple of photos.”

  “Oh wow,” Mary said, leaning forward on her forearm and taking a sip of her wine with her other hand, enthralled.

  “Yes, but no names, sadly. My dad dropped the photos off, apparently. He and my mother had signed a document statin’ that I couldn’t find out who my parents were, but a few
years later, he came back to the agency and slipped the photos to the woman at the front desk, tellin’ her to give ’em to me if I ever came looking. I suppose I was just hopin’ he’d had a change of heart.” She grabbed her handbag and rummaged around in it. “Would you like to see the photos?” She handed them over to Mary.

  “And what if they haven’t—what will you do?” Mary asked, looking down at the photos. She smiled at the one with the baby before handing them back to Georgia.

  “I haven’t thought that far,” Georgia said. “But even if I don’t find them, I’m glad I came because I got to meet you, Liam, Hannah, and her parents. Hannah’s been so nice, letting me work in her grandmother’s shop. We’ve had an absolute blast…”

  “Oh yes,” Mary said, addressing Hannah. “Liam tells me your grandmother owns the local florist’s, is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you still considering closing?” Liam asked, taking a sip from his wine.

  “Well, Georgia and I have been brainstorming and we’re completely redoing the whole place. I think it will really surprise Gran, and hopefully revitalize the business and bring in some new customers.”

  “It’s gonna take a lot of customers to cover the spike in rent,” Georgia added, “but it’s worth a try.”

  Liam’s attention seemed to sharpen at the mention of Hannah fixing up The Memory Keeper.

  “How lovely,” Mary said. “I’m not sure how I could help, but I always have a supply of fresh, seasonal fruit and vegetables… and I make a mean lemonade recipe.”

  “Actually, Gran always offered muffins and lemonade to her customers. I’d love to feature your farm’s lemonade. That would really give it a local flair.”

  “Oh, that’s a great idea,” Georgia chimed in.

  “I’d be delighted to help,” Mary told them.

  The waitress came to take their food orders and only then did Hannah notice the undecipherable look on Liam’s face. What was it—uncertainty? Was he wondering if she’d stay in Franklin, or was something else on his mind specific to Gran’s shop? He’d been acting differently ever since she’d mentioned it.

  “You okay?” Hannah asked.

  “Yes,” he said, pushing a smile across his face. He picked up his menu. “Ladies first,” he offered to the waitress so she could take their orders.

  Twenty-Four

  Just after the sun came up the next morning, while Georgia stayed back at The Memory Keeper to design the display window, Hannah went to see Gran. Since Georgia hadn’t had any luck finding her birth parents, Hannah took the photos of Georgia’s family with her to see if Gran knew anything about them, by chance.

  “The woman I rode from the airport with—Georgia—she wanted me to show you these photos to see if you recognized the people in them.” Hannah slipped them out of her wallet and handed them over to Gran.

  “Could you get my glasses off the table, dear?” Gran asked, setting the photos on the white knit blanket that covered her legs. When Hannah handed them over, Gran took a closer look. “No,” she said, inspecting them. “I’m sorry to say that I don’t.” She handed them back.

  Disappointed for her friend, Hannah put them back into her wallet. “That’s okay,” she said. “I feel bad for Georgia. She really just wants to find her people.”

  Gran chuckled. “That’s all any of us want.” She smoothed the blanket. “How’s the shop?” she asked.

  Hannah moved the walker Gran had been using to get around the hospital out of the way, and sat down in a nearby chair. “I’ve got everything under control,” she said, not wanting to tell her much to spoil the surprise, but at the same time wanting to set her mind at ease. “I’ve been working hard to get it into shape, and I’ve even gotten a local farmer to provide some fresh lemonade for your customers.”

  “Oh, Hannah, that’s lovely,” Gran said, sitting up straighter. “And how’s Speckles?”

  “I’ve made sure milk has been put out for her every day,” Hannah said carefully, not wanting to tell her that she’d had to dump the milk at the end of the day because it had gone untouched.

  “I knew you would come through for me,” she said, leaning back with a satisfied crossing of her arms. “And how are you, my dear?”

  “I don’t know, Gran,” Hannah answered honestly. “I don’t know what I’m meant to be doing anymore.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve worked really hard to get where I am in my job in New York, and I’ve been very successful… But there’s a problem with one of the projects I’m working on and something occurred to me. I’d been avoiding the problem, not even wanting to think about it or try to figure it out—that’s not like me. I should be leading, but instead I’ve been sidestepping.”

  “You’re just giving yourself time to process what you really want,” Gran said. She always had the kindest ways to spin things. “And you’ve been a bit frazzled in the last day or so. Give yourself a break.”

  “I’ve been pulled back into my old life, and all of a sudden, here I feel like I’m alive,” she confessed. “I’m still that same woman from New York, but she feels comfortable here, too.”

  “We feel the most alive when we are doing the things God intended for us. Just because you’re here doesn’t mean you have to become the girl who grew up in this town. You’ve changed, Hannah. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

  “Are you saying I should be here and not in New York?” she asked.

  “I’m saying you should give yourself permission to be where you thrive the most.”

  “I wish I knew for sure where that was.”

  “You’ll figure it out. I have no doubt about that.”

  “Wait a minute!” she said, beginning to pace the room as an idea came to her. “The magazine feature photos should depict how we find our people…” She rushed over to Gran’s bedside, kissing her. “You are amazing!” she said, giddy. “Thank you!”

  Gran laughed. “I’m not sure what I’ve done, but you’re welcome.”

  Hannah burst through the door of The Memory Keeper. She grabbed Georgia and spun her around, making Jerry bark and come tapping over to them, climbing Georgia’s leg.

  “I have the best idea,” Hannah said. “I’ve had an awful time with this project at work, and I think I can fix everything, but I’ll need your help! And then I’ll be able to put all my focus on getting the shop ready for customers.”

  “What is it?” Georgia asked.

  “I need your photography skills. Would you help me?”

  “Of course,” Georgia said. “What are we doing?”

  “I have to call Liam. I want to ask him if you and I can come over and take photos of his family and Mary’s farm. I can already see about ten to twenty shots in my head,” she said. “The oak tree in the middle of the field, the front porch with its rocking chairs, all the hand-painted signs labeling each set of crops… There’s so much out there.”

  “Call Liam to see if he’ll do it,” Georgia said, excited. “I’ll keep painting.”

  Hannah dialed his number, pacing around eagerly. When he answered, she explained everything.

  “He said yes! I’m going over right now to scout locations,” she told Georgia. “Once I have an idea of what I want, you and I can go shoot it. Sound good?”

  “Absolutely. Somehow you’ve managed to get me a job as a photographer for Farmhouse Living,” she said with a squeal.

  “If this works, you could be the lead photographer for Farmhouse Living.”

  Georgia stared at her wide-eyed for a second, before slapping an excited hand over her mouth.

  If Hannah’s hunch was correct, Georgia might have just helped save her career.

  “Are y’all gonna be okay out there in the freezing cold?” Mary asked, folding her arms across her chest as she shivered while Hannah and Liam walked around the farmhouse.

  “We’ll be fine, Mom,” he assured her. “We won’t be out that long.”

  “All right,”
Mary said. “I’ll put on a pot of coffee for when you two come in.”

  “Thanks,” Hannah told her, while she opened the sketchpad she’d bought on the way over to a clean page.

  “Let’s have a look at the barn first,” Liam suggested. He led the way down the long dirt path. The ground was soft under their feet. “I used to climb that tree when I was kid,” he said, pointing to a maple tree at the edge of the path. Its branches stretched endlessly, the trunk so large that Hannah wouldn’t be able to get her arms around it. A low-hanging branch gave her an idea.

  “I wonder if we could do a generational photo on this tree with you and Noah. Would you be okay doing that?”

  “And be in a national magazine?”

  “Yes,” she said, offering a cheesy please-say-yes grin. “You both have the perfect look for magazines.”

  “Are you flirting with me?” he teased, a smirk emerging at the corner of his lips.

  Hannah laughed. “Call it what you want.”

  He eyed her playfully, raising his eyebrows. “You aren’t saying no.” He grabbed the branch of the tree, looking up to the top of it. “I’m going to tell everyone you said I look like a magazine model.” He hit a pose, making her laugh again.

  “Wait,” she said, her drawing pencil poised above her sketch paper. “Stay just like that.” She dragged her pencil across the paper, quickly outlining the tree and then placing him in position as he was. But then she added Noah, sitting on the branch, his legs dangling over it, Liam looking up fondly at his son. She turned the pad of paper around and showed Liam her idea.

  He broke pose, astonishment on his face. “Wow,” he said. “That’s amazing. You’re clearly great at what you do.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, shrugging it off.

  He took her hand. “Come on. Let me show you the barn—I think it’ll be right up your alley. I built it with my dad.”

  Liam led her to the brick-red structure. He tugged on one of the large doors, sliding it open. “My mom uses this for parties,” he said as they stepped inside. He clicked on a light switch.