by Jenny Hale
“In the journal, she talks about someone named Charles. Not Dad, but some other Charles. Do you know who that is?” Hannah asked, her hands trembling.
Her mother shook her head. “I have no idea.” She reached over to the kitchen counter and pulled a tissue from the box, blowing her nose, the tears still swimming in her eyes.
Hannah clasped her hands together, leaning on them, lost in contemplation about the time she’d never get back while Ethan rubbed her shoulders consolingly.
Maura got up and walked around behind her, putting her arms around her daughter in a motherly embrace. “Go see her,” she whispered. “It’ll do the both of you good to talk to one another. I’ve always admired the way you two can communicate.”
“Okay,” Hannah said, clearing her throat in a feeble attempt to push the emotion away as she stood up.
Ethan gave her a squeeze.
“Do you have time to go with me this morning, Ethan?” Hannah asked.
“Dad told me I could have as much time as I need.” Ethan looked her straight in the eyes. “I know how you like to process things. Take a minute and breathe. I’ll hang out with your mama until you’re ready.”
“Okay.” Surprising herself, she threw her arms around Ethan. “Thank you,” she said, her face buried in his chest, his familiar cotton and cedar scent calming her immediately.
“No problem,” he said quietly.
Hannah headed down to Gran’s room to freshen up for the hospital visit. She shut the door and fell against it, her chest heaving with the emotions that came as soon as she was alone. Her gaze roamed the room—Gran’s dressing table, her soft-bristled hairbrush with the silver handle sitting unused, her pair of slippers lined up neatly under the chair, a string of pearls nestled in a porcelain dish on her nightstand. She let the tears come.
Her phone pinged with a notification, and she pulled it from the back pocket of her jeans. It was work. Something from the IT department. She couldn’t look at it in the state she was in. She’d read it later.
She grabbed Gran’s journal, hugging it to her chest. It was a comforting force; Gran’s voice when it was still vibrant and untainted by time. She’d take just a quick minute and read a few entries to compose herself. She had to be unruffled when she walked into that hospital room. With a deep breath, Hannah opened the journal and settled in to find her calm.
March 25, 1943
James Williams is not to be trusted. He worked Sally Mae and me all day on the assembly line and then wouldn’t let us go until a whole hour after our shift had ended. He said he’d pay us overtime, but I don’t believe it. Last time he said that, there was nothing new in my paycheck. I hate working at the factory. I understand that we’re helping America by making guns for the war, and it’s good money for my family, but it’s the same thing day in and day out, and my feet hurt so much after standing on them all day. I should be thankful to have a job when so many still don’t make enough money to support their households, and I’m helping the family because Daddy can’t find work that pays enough. But it doesn’t make me like the job any more.
While she still wrestled with her own problems, after reading about Gran’s strength in her time of uncertainty, Hannah was feeling stronger herself about seeing Gran. She sharpened her hearing to make out Ethan telling her mom a story, the two of them laughing. Despite the circumstances that had brought her here, she was glad she was home.
Thirteen
“Hey, Gran,” Hannah said, as she and Ethan entered the hospital room from the brightly lit hallway.
Gran’s empty stare at the wall across from her bed shifted, her head slowly turning toward them as a smile emerged on her pale, weathered lips. She raised her arms for an embrace, the IVs pulling taut, the sight causing Hannah to hurry to her bedside. She wrapped her arms around her frail grandmother.
“It’s so good to see you,” Hannah said, through the shock of witnessing Gran in that state.
Gran pulled back. “Don’t you fuss over me. I’m just fine. I always look like this,” she said, reading Hannah easily. “It’s just that I usually cover it up with makeup and hairspray,” she teased. “And I’ve never been so hydrated in all my life.” Her grandmother tugged gently on the IVs going into her arm.
Hannah smiled to disguise her worry.
“I see you’ve brought your partner in crime,” she said with a wink toward Ethan. Gran had always teased them that there was no other name for two people who were capable of getting into so much mischief together.
“Knock, knock.” A nurse in yellow scrubs came into the room. “I need to check your vitals, Ms. Faye.” The nurse wheeled in the portable medical unit and parked it next to the bed. Then she addressed Hannah and Ethan. “I’m Lanelle, the day nurse,” she said with a wide, friendly smile, her teeth like a set of pearls against her dark skin. She walked around the bed and checked the IV bags, typing something in on one of the machines.
“I’m Hannah, Faye’s granddaughter. And this is Ethan.”
“Oh, so you’re Hannah. Ms. Faye hasn’t stopped talking about you since she found out you were comin’.” Lanelle placed two fingers on Gran’s wrist and looked at her watch. “And I already know Ethan. He’s been up here causin’ trouble for days,” she kidded.
“You’ll miss me when I’m gone,” he said back to her with a big grin.
Lanelle rolled her eyes playfully but then relented. “You might be right about that,” she said. “He was sweet one mornin’ and brought all the nurses coffee.”
“Suck-up,” Hannah called him, making Ethan and Lanelle laugh.
Lanelle leaned over Gran’s bed. “How you feelin’, Ms. Faye?”
Gran pouted. “I feel the same as I always do—antsy. When can I go home?”
“I know you’re lookin’ to get out of here, but we’ve gotta get you well first.”
“Have you been to the shop?” Gran asked Hannah, while Lanelle checked the IV ports in Gran’s arms. “How’s it looking?”
“I haven’t been yet,” Hannah replied honestly. When Gran’s face contorted with concern, she added, “But Mama’s been there the whole time. She’s got everything under control.”
“How are the geraniums on my front porch?” Gran asked, as Ethan pulled chairs for both of them to the side of the bed. He eyed Hannah, having obviously noticed when he was there that there were no geraniums on Gran’s porch.
“They could use a little TLC,” he said, covering for Hannah.
“See y’all later,” Lanelle said as she left the room. “Bye, Ms. Faye.”
“Bye, dear,” Gran called. Then she turned back to Hannah. “Don’t forget, you can go over to the nursery at Nell’s and grab some more if you need to. Buy them through the account they have on file for the shop.”
Hannah nodded. That account probably didn’t have any money to fund the purchase, but rather than get into it, Hannah changed the subject. “The cake Mom made with your recipe was delicious.”
“I’m so happy to hear that,” Gran said with a smile. “Did your mama put any out at the shop for Speckles?”
“The cat eats cake?” Hannah asked with a laugh.
“With milk,” Gran said, her chest bouncing lightly with her chuckle. “When the shop is closed, she finds her way to the house. Has she been hanging around?”
“I haven’t seen her,” Hannah replied. “But I just got here yesterday afternoon. Maybe Mama’s seen her. I’m sure she’s fed her.”
“Make sure there’s food and water,” Gran said.
“Don’t worry, Gran. I’ll go to the shop straight after this, and then I’ll be able to tell you more about what’s going on there, okay?”
Gran reached for her and Hannah came close. With near desperation in her eyes, Gran said to her, “Whatever happens, save the shop.”
“Hello-o,” Maura’s voice interrupted the moment. She walked in with a file folder and her handbag over her shoulder. “How is my favorite mother-in-law?” she asked, leaning in and kissing Gran’
s cheek.
“Decent,” Gran said. “Now that Hannah’s here. She fixes everything, doesn’t she?” Gran winked at Hannah, a blanket of pleasantries sliding across her face.
“Yes, she does,” Hannah’s mother said with a doting look to Hannah, giving Ethan a friendly squeeze on the shoulders as she moved further into the room. “Hopefully Hannah can help with this,” her mother said, opening the file folder.
Hannah jumped up. “Mama!” she said. “I’ve already taken care of that old paperwork.”
“But—”
Hannah cut Maura off and took her arm. “Don’t worry Gran with silly purchase orders. I’ll fill them out for you. We can get it done in a second in the hallway. Ethan, chat with Gran while we get some work done really quickly.”
The skin between Maura’s eyes wrinkled with confusion, but she closed the file folder and followed Hannah into the hallway.
“Make sure you have enough baby’s breath,” Gran called. “I’m always running out.”
“Back in just a second,” Hannah told Gran and Ethan, before she slipped down the hallway with her mom.
“What’s this all about?” Maura asked. “I don’t have purchase orders.”
“I just couldn’t upset her. She seemed so desperate for me to save the shop. What exactly were you going to ask her to sign?”
“They’re the documents to release her from her lease at the end of the year—you know that.”
Hannah chewed on her lip.
Maura rubbed the top of Hannah’s arm. “You can’t keep all this from her forever. At some point she’s going to need to sign it. I know you don’t want to think about this, and God knows I don’t either,” she said, her voice breaking. “But if something happens to her, without her signature, it’s an ongoing lease. If she doesn’t sign it, and then she…” Her mother took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “According to their death clause, the responsibility for payment that year will fall on the beneficiary of the shop that she’s nominated on the rental agreement, which is your father. Your father and I will be responsible for a year of rent, and we can’t afford it. She doesn’t have anything left of her savings to cover it.”
Hannah tipped her head up to the ceiling, closing her eyes, the fluorescent hospital lighting making white rectangles in the blackness of her thoughts. Her chest ached and her heart felt as though it would break in half. She turned back to her mother. “Can we just not tell her yet?”
Her mother’s shoulders rose and she shook her head, unsure.
“I know it has to be done, but can we do it tomorrow?”
“Every day we wait is heightening our financial risk if something were to happen to her, and it’s ridiculous to keep that old place open. At her age, she should be resting at home.”
“Give her some time. Perhaps me being here will make her feel more like herself, and she’ll eventually sign the papers.”
“All right. I need to be at home with your dad anyway. He noticed Gran’s gutters are full of leaves, and I’ve got to call someone before he tries to get on a ladder.”
Hannah let out a huff of disbelieving laughter. “Yes, get home to Dad. I’ve got this.”
“Okay, but Hannah. We have to get her to sign the papers.”
Hannah kissed her mother goodbye and headed back into Gran’s hospital room.
“There’s my girl,” Gran said, as she handed Ethan a cup of water with a straw. He set it on the counter at the other side of the room. “Always looking out for your gran,” she said, and blew Hannah a kiss.
Hannah plopped down in the visitor’s chair by Gran’s bed, happy she had settled the issue for now. “Finally, we can chat,” she said, taking Gran’s hand. “I’ve been reading your journal,” she told her. “I’m dying to know about Charles.”
“Ah,” Gran said fondly, putting her hand on her heart. “Lovely, lovely Charles.”
“In the journal, you mention him a lot.”
“I was smitten with him. He planned to marry me after the war,” she said, a distant look settling over her as she tapped into the memory.
“What happened?” she asked.
“It’s all there, Hannah,” Gran told her. “I’ve already lived it once. I’d rather focus on right now, but it’s important that you read it. I’m hoping it will shed some light on life for you.”
“Okay,” Hannah said, not wanting to push her.
“Besides, I want to hear about how many arrangements you planned for on those purchase orders.”
Hannah couldn’t deceive Gran much longer, because eventually she would see through it. She had one day to figure out how to tell Gran the news. She needed to get over to the shop so she could see firsthand what she was dealing with. It would be a whole lot easier for Gran to take the news about closing The Memory Keeper if Hannah could be the one to tell her, and she needed to build her case right now.
It wasn’t long before Gran had fallen asleep. Ethan took Hannah into town on his way to work, so she could check on The Memory Keeper. While she was near Main Street, she also planned to stop by the boutiques to buy a few winter outfits to wear, since all she had in her suitcase were beach clothes.
On their way, she checked her work email. IT was asking for one of her department’s program passwords, which she didn’t know. She’d written it in a notebook that she kept in her desk at work, so she’d asked Amanda to find it for them. She’d also had another suggested layout change from her design team for the major spread they were working on. The team was proposing to use only a few larger photos from old stock in the spot where she’d had a montage of images from her last cross-country photo shoot, which was odd because Hannah had gotten all of that nailed down before she’d left. She’d have to make a call to Amanda about that at some point.
“You’re missin’ it,” Ethan said, drawing her eyes up from her phone.
“What?”
“The green space,” he replied, waving one hand in the air. “I read an article once that said natural green like these here fields lowers your stress.”
Hannah grinned. “I didn’t know you could read,” she said, picking up their usual banter of throwing out jabs until they both fell over in fits of laughter.
“Only when I have to,” he shot back with a grin.
Hannah laughed and looked out the Bronco’s window as the early afternoon sun sent its beams down through the clouds that were rolling in. It looked as though the heavens were combing the fields with their long golden fingers.
“Ain’t it nice?” he asked. “Not much longer and we can start up the bonfires again. I think there were some kids messin’ around in the old field last weekend already.” He pointed toward the lane that led to the field where they’d all gathered in high school to park their trucks, dance on the tailgates to music, and socialize. “Damn hot shot kids, always jumpin’ the gun. I don’t know anyone in their right mind who would try to start bonfire season weeks early.” He wrinkled his nose playfully at his joke.
In the early days, Ethan had dragged Hannah out to the fields every year in the freezing cold, trying to get the season going after the long winter. Sometimes it had just been the two of them out there, and she’d had to convince him to put out the fire and head home before they turned into ice cubes. Once the kids from the neighboring schools started to come, he’d gotten less excited about going, and Hannah wondered if he’d preferred the smaller crowd of locals.
Ethan turned onto the road that led into town.
When they’d finally reached Franklin, he pulled over at The Memory Keeper. “Well, here’s your stop,” he said, reaching over her and pulling the door handle to unlatch it for her—something he’d always done since they were young. “Call me if you need me, all right?”
“Okay,” she said, getting out. Hannah leaned back into the Bronco and gave him a quick hug. “Thank you for the ride.”
“No problem,” he said, slipping a ball cap with the logo for his dad’s shop onto his head, the brim tattered and torn. “See
ya later.”
Hannah shut the truck door. As Ethan drove away, she stood in front of Gran’s flower shop and understood right away what her parents had been trying to explain to her. Walking up the overgrown sidewalk, the weeds tall enough to tickle her ankles, her gaze fell on the shriveled, brown remnants of the plants that flanked the door. She stepped closer, noticing the faded paint on the building, picking up the silver water bowl Gran always left out for pets, and shaking the rainwater and dead leaves out of it. She set it on its side against the building to dry.
The exterior wasn’t too bad, apart from needing a fresh coat of paint and some landscaping, but the wild overgrowth next to the side of it that separated The Memory Keeper from a strip of vacant shops had taken over, completely obscuring the freestanding store from Main Street that ran perpendicular to it. It looked as though construction was going on in the strip of shops, the orange cones on the curb narrowing the street further and making it nearly impossible to access.
Hannah fiddled with her key ring, locating the key Gran had given her years ago. She slipped it into the old lock and twisted the knob, pushing open the large wooden and glass-paned door. The hinges creaked with age, as if they were protesting her intrusion.
Once she got inside, there was an eerie silence. Sadness falling upon her, she turned the “open” sign to “closed,” realizing it had never been switched from the last time the shop had been open, and clicked on the lights. The old music Gran used to play on the antique record player at the back was absent, the bright streams of light now dulled with both the winter weather and cloudy windows that needed a good cleaning.
Hannah let her gaze wander over the wall of silver buckets. When Hannah was a girl, Gran used to keep bright bunches of flowers in the lower ones. Now, cobwebs stretched from one to the other. The old wooden counter in the center of the room—a large space that was both an arranging station and housed the register—was completely hidden with stacks of papers, the display case in the bottom holding a couple of drooping arrangements.
