The Memory Keeper: A heartwarming, feel-good romance

by Jenny Hale

  “So how did you manage to get a car rental?” Hannah asked, making conversation.

  “It was a fluke, really. The sale of a building my company’s acquiring in Chicago depends on me getting to Franklin to secure the funding, and the Chicago meeting was rescheduled for last night so I had to change my flight last minute,” he said. “It was a rush to find anything, so I got a flight to New York and then another to Nashville. Already arriving later than I thought I would, I saw the storm was worsening. To be on the safe side, I booked a car online at the hotel before I left this morning, in case the second leg of my flight was significantly delayed or cancelled.” He attempted to reach his hand behind him into his carry-on bag in the backseat.

  Liam’s suitcase—she’d found out—had been lost in transit, and it was supposedly being shipped to Nashville airport which, while awful for him, allowed enough space to fit the rest of the luggage in the trunk. Hannah and Georgia had stuffed their suitcases into the space, but with the smaller bags up front with them, there was still a squeeze on their legroom for the fourteen-plus-hour drive.

  “And I shouldn’t have been on that flight to New York either, but I missed my original flight and they had to redirect me via New York,” Georgia said. “You might be an angel,’ she told Liam. ‘And the most organized person I’ve ever met.” She picked up his bag from the backseat for him and pushed it onto the console between them.

  Jerry the Chihuahua was on Georgia’s lap, offering quiet growls of protest every time she leaned over him. When she sat back, the dog rearranged himself into a blond ball on her legs and tucked his head into the fold in her shirt.

  Liam pulled a red cardboard heart full of chocolate from the bag, inspected it and then set it in his lap, plunging his hand back into his carry-on. He got hold of his cell phone and placed it in the center console. “Would you like one?” he asked, holding out the heart.

  “You always have Valentine’s chocolates at the ready?” Hannah asked, allowing a slight moment of humor.

  “You never know if you’ll be stuck in a car, outnumbered, with two hungry passengers just after Valentine’s Day,” he teased back. “I bought them from a sale bin at the airport in Chicago. The food lines were so long that it was my only option. Well, those or chocolate roses on sticks.”

  Hannah declined with a grin, the banter between them lightening her mood just a bit.

  He passed the box back to Georgia to offer her some, but she dropped them back into his bag. Jerry wriggled free from her and did a nosedive after it, chasing the scent of chocolate. Georgia scooped him up and pinned him affectionately to her chest, his miniature legs dangling over her arm.

  Hannah’s phone pinged with a text, and she remembered the work messages she needed to check. But her attention went instead to the text floating on her screen: I thought it was a snowstorm, but nope. Hell’s done froze over. I hear you’re coming home.

  She tipped her head back with a quiet laugh at the comment. Ethan.

  Liam glanced over at her before returning to the road.

  Another text came through. Your feet still know how to walk in boots? Or did you forget with all those high heels you been wearing?

  She chewed on a smile, a memory floating to the surface like feathers on the summer wind.

  “What the hell are those?” an eighteen-year-old Ethan had asked when he’d come into her childhood bedroom. He stared at her from under the well-worn curve of his baseball cap’s brim, his hands jammed into the pockets of his tattered Levi’s, bunching up the bottom of his T-shirt.

  Hannah did a twirl in front of her full-length mirror in her frayed jeans shorts and a tank top, her old shorties cowgirl boots, named because they stopped at her ankles, kicked over to the side while she stood in the black pair of three-inch high heels she’d gotten for New York. She wobbled slightly.

  “Why you wanna wear somethin’ you can’t hardly stand in?” he’d asked, his face wrinkled in confusion, but she could see the underlying disapproval in his gaze.

  “I need to look like a professional,” she’d explained, twisting her wind-blown hair and holding it into an updo with her fingers.

  “Professional what?” he asked, scooping up her boots. “Round here, all the professionals wear these.” He held his hand out to her, the boots dangling from his two fingers. “How you gonna ride a horse in those things?”

  She turned to him with a grin. “I won’t be ridin’ rodeos anymore where I’m goin’.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said flippantly, clearly apologizing for the fact that New York City didn’t have rodeos like they did in Tennessee.

  Hannah had ridden horses in the local festivals since she’d turned thirteen. Every third Friday night of the month she’d spent kicking up dust in the ring as the banners flew and the music played, the rush of wind when the horse ran at full speed in the processional blowing her cowgirl hat and forcing her to hang on to it with one hand while she grasped the reins with the other. She knew the first Friday she didn’t go would feel strange, but she had to do this.

  “I can’t ride rodeos forever,” she’d said.

  The gravity in his face right then was burned into her memory. “Why not?” he’d asked. And she didn’t have an answer for him. He’d rolled his eyes, frustrated. “Suit yourself. If we ain’t good enough for you, then maybe you should go.”

  The memory still on her mind, she texted Ethan back: I’m coming home to see Gran. Have you heard?

  He replied: Do you know me at all? I’ve already been to see her three times.

  Hannah wondered if the question about knowing him was that frustration from years ago coming through. That final summer night before she’d left for college in New York, they’d been sitting on the massive exposed root of the old oak tree in his yard, the sun going down on the horizon over the horse fields. “You’re gonna forget me,” he’d worried, his thin lips set in a straight line. “You’re gonna forget all about this place…”

  He’d been right. Guilt settled in the pit of her stomach. She returned: I know you plenty well. I just wasn’t sure you’d heard about Gran, that’s all.

  Ethan texted back. You don’t know me as well as you think you do anymore. Lots has happened since you left your boots behind and hightailed it outta here. I’ll fill ya in when you get home. Can’t wait for you to get here!

  She let out a little exhale of relief when she read the last line. A part of her expected him to still hate her for leaving, and there probably was a side of him that did, but he was being kind to her anyway, which was just how he was.

  Another text floated onto her phone: And hey, happy birthday!

  He’d remembered. Suddenly, like a tidal wave, she missed the time they’d spent together growing up so much that she could hardly bear it. Ethan was the kindest person she knew—why had she left him without a word like she had? Tears pricked her eyes as she typed, Thanks. See you soon!

  Hannah focused on the endless expanse of snow-covered concrete and city life out her window to try to clear her mind, before she turned her attention to her work emails.

  “I’ve got more snacks if anyone wants some,” Georgia said as she removed Liam’s bag and shoved a fistful of assorted packs of crackers through the gap between the two front seats, sending Jerry wriggling again.

  “No, thank you,” Hannah said, reaching back and petting Jerry. Her stomach was in knots and her appetite was nonexistent from everything she’d dealt with today, as well as the idea of a fourteen-hour car ride that propelled her toward all the people she’d basically abandoned.

  “That’s all right, thank you,” Liam replied. “We can probably stop for dinner once we get out of the traffic.” He pulled off on the exit, merging onto the highway and coming to a halt in another mass of cars that stretched as far as Hannah could see.

  “Maybe I will have a chocolate,” Hannah said, reconsidering. The sweetness of it might help her mood.

  Valentine’s Day was two weeks ago, but the chocolates at the airport
had still sounded deliciously festive. She and Miles had been so consumed with their respective projects that they’d both missed the holiday completely. She had woken up that morning and briefly wondered if he’d surprise her with anything, but then she’d arrived at work and been so frenzied with her tasks that she’d forgotten about it—until her coworker Amanda had received a big bouquet of roses and two Mylar heart balloons. On her way home from work, Hannah had bought Miles a card, but it just didn’t seem right to give it to him since he’d forgotten hers, so she’d stuffed it into her laptop bag until she could toss it in a public trash bin. She’d put on a brave face at work when everyone was sharing what their significant others had given them the next day at lunch, but inwardly she’d felt lonely and sad.

  Georgia passed the heart-shaped box back up to the front, and as Hannah surveyed its contents Georgia pointed to a round one with coconut flakes on top. “That one’s really good,” the woman offered. “I got one of these hearts at the airport too, but I already finished mine.”

  “Was that what you were eating when you asked me to help you get your suitcase off the conveyor belt at baggage claim?” Liam asked with a chuckle, his eyes on the road.

  “Yes!” Georgia said. “My mouth was full, and I couldn’t talk,” she explained to Hannah, “but my heavy bag was going around the thing faster than I could grab it. It had already circled the loop twice by the time I asked Liam. I was scrambling to get it while I searched for my boarding pass. At that point, I still thought I was gonna have to sprint to my next plane.” Georgia put Jerry on a cushion in his carrying case and set it beside her on the seat.

  Georgia’s mention of catching her plane brought back the image of Miles and Becky on the escalator. “I was on my way to Barbados,” Hannah told them. “I’ve always wanted to go there, and finally I decided to make it happen.” He looked over at her as she pinched the coconut-covered chocolate between her fingers. “I was surprising Miles…” She hesitated. “My ex—with a trip for two. But it seems like he’d already had a romantic getaway with someone else.”

  Liam’s face clouded with thought. “I’m sorry.”

  They fell into a heavy silence. The only sound was the shushing of the tires against the snow on the highway and the radio in the background. Hannah looked out the window again, but the view wasn’t registering. Instead, flashes of the last two years swarmed her mind. All the nights Miles had come home late, tiptoeing in after she was asleep, the times he’d said he had to run out instead of staying at the apartment, the wine a “coworker” had spilled on his shirt, the gift she’d found in his dresser when she was putting away his laundry that he’d said he was shipping to his mother… It was becoming clear that he’d been deceiving her for a while. She popped the chocolate into her mouth, her focus on savoring the rich flavor of it to avoid the alternative, which was crumpling into tears in front of Liam and Georgia.

  “Guys can be such jerks,” Georgia said. “No offense.” She leaned forward and patted Liam’s shoulder, causing his attention to waver from driving for a second before his gaze returned to the road.

  “None taken,” he said quietly.

  That moment of confrontation at the baggage claim returned to Hannah, and she wondered again if Liam had been about to intervene between her and Miles. She looked over at him now, just as his head swiveled toward her, and they locked eyes for a second. He offered a knowing smile, as if he could read her thoughts, and it gave her an unexpected flutter. The surprise of it made her turn around to talk to Georgia and refocus, but Georgia had put her headphones on, and she’d begun doodling on a pad of paper in her lap. Liam’s eyes were back on the road, and Hannah sank into her thoughts once more.

  She stifled a yawn and Liam looked over at her again. All the emotion today had taken a toll on her.

  “Assuming we take turns driving,” she said to him, “I’ll never make it if we try to drive the entire journey tonight.” Hannah yawned again. “Are either of you two night owls who can drive tonight?” she asked loudly, twisting around to get Georgia’s attention.

  Georgia pulled one of her earphones from her ear. “I have night blindness so there’s no way y’all want me to drive,” she said while she opened a pack of peanut butter crackers, causing a stir from the crate beside her. She slipped her doodling into the large leather portfolio she’d been carrying when Hannah had first met her. “But I’ll pay for gas.” Georgia popped a cracker into her mouth and brushed the crumbs off her thighs. “Jerry’ll need a potty break at some point, too.”

  “Just let me know when you all want to stop. And then let’s see how far we can get through the trip today before everyone gets too tired,” Liam said, as he surveyed the traffic in front of them. “If we have to break it into two days, we’ll need to get far enough out of town to even find a hotel with vacancies. They’ll be full for miles. And we’ll need to get a hotel that’s pet friendly.”

  “Aw, that’s nice of you to think of Jerry,” Georgia said, “but you don’t have to worry about a pet-friendly hotel. I just hide him in my bag, and he sleeps until I get him to the room. No one will even know he’s there.”

  Liam nodded, clearly unsure. “Hopefully we’ll get moving soon.”

  Hannah pulled out her phone and opened her emails from Amanda, her assistant director on the design staff, who was filling in for her this week to keep things moving. Amanda had always been a great friend at the office, and Hannah knew she’d be fair and kind, so she’d given her a large number of duties on the spread Hannah was working on. The magazine was in very capable hands while Hannah was on vacation.

  The first message was just telling Hannah they needed the signed permissions form from one of the photographers they’d freelanced in LA. She attached the file to her reply, the attachment struggling to upload with a patchy signal. Then she sifted through her other messages: budget approval needed for cropping and adjustment work on two of the images, deadline change request for the October shoot, suggested layout amendment on the lifestyles page… She fired off emails, one after another.

  “How long since you’ve been back home?” Liam asked.

  She clicked her phone off and set it in her lap.

  “A few years,” she replied, “but it’s been much longer than that since I’ve actually seen anyone we knew. Most of my visits were quick—I flew home and saw Gran or my parents, and then left right away. I always had work demands…” Her excuse sounded flimsy now, coming off her lips. All the stress and rushing around seemed insignificant compared to not spending time with the people she cared about. “How about you?”

  “I visit quite a bit,” he said. “I live in Charleston now…”

  “Charleston? I expected you to be cutting records in Nashville.”

  He offered a nostalgic chuckle. “No, I ended up going in a totally different direction. I went into business instead. And started a family… I have a son—his name is Noah.”

  Hannah regarded him with interest.

  “My mother gets antsy if we stay away too long.” The lines creasing at the corners of Liam’s eyes revealed his fondness for his mother.

  “You have a son,” Hannah said, the word feeling strange in her mouth. A tiny piece of her remained grounded in their youth when she spoke to him, and it felt odd that they’d both gone through so much life between then and now.

  “Yep. Noah’s four.” He looked over at her pleasantly, but there was another emotion lurking in his eyes that she couldn’t pinpoint. Hesitation of some sort. “Do you have any kids?” he asked.

  “No,” she replied, shaking her head. She huffed out a soft laugh to keep from crying again.

  “I don’t know why, but I imagined you’d have lots of kids,” he said.

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. You always had a very nurturing way about you.”

  “Thanks,” she said, breathing in the happiness his comment had given her.

  They fell into silence again when the traffic got heavy, and Hannah texted her mother
to ask whether Gran could receive calls or texts. Her mother responded, telling her that Gran did, in fact, have her phone, and she’d probably love to hear from Hannah. So, with nothing but gridlocked traffic to keep her busy, Hannah texted Gran.

  I’m on my way to see you, she typed. I’d call, but I’m in a car full of people from the airport. It was the only way I could get home in this storm.

  Right away, Gran responded: I can’t wait to see you. Are you safe with those people in that car?

  I think they’re fine, she typed. One is someone I grew up with in Franklin, and there’s a Chihuahua named Jerry in the backseat that’s wearing a light-blue sweater with “Angel” written on the back.

  Gran came back with, I needed your humor. I miss you terribly. How are you? How’s Miles?

  Hannah didn’t want to bring Gran’s spirits down in her state. She had to think about how to answer her honestly. I’m not sure, she typed back. I’ll fill you in when I get there.

  Tell me now, Gran returned.

  The very last thing Hannah wanted was to break down in the car with nowhere to go, but at the same time, it felt comforting to know Gran was there to listen. She’d been there through all of Hannah’s breakups growing up, and Gran had always had the best advice. I thought he was The One, she typed, but it turns out he isn’t. He’s a jerk. We broke up.

  What happened? Gran asked.

  She replied: I found him kissing another woman today. Just texting the words sent a flash of heat through her skin.