The Memory Keeper: A heartwarming, feel-good romance

by Jenny Hale

  Hannah had left Georgia in her room, searching online for leads on her parents.

  Hannah had attempted to see her grandmother on the way home, but Gran had been asleep when she’d stopped by, so Hannah didn’t stay. Her mom and dad were out getting groceries, and Hannah found herself alone. Needing to hear Gran’s voice, she pulled out the journal and settled in.

  August 16, 1943

  I couldn’t believe my eyes when I walked into Beaty’s Drugstore after so long. Warren was sitting at our usual spot at the soda fountain, reading his book with two Cokes in front of him. I surprised him, coming up behind him. “Thirsty?” I teased, while also wondering for whom he’d bought the second Coke. When he turned around, I could hardly breathe when I saw his smile. No one has ever smiled at me like that before. It seemed as though he were going to jump up and hug me. The soda clerk made Warren’s cheeks go pink when he told me that Warren had bought two Cokes every day for the last month and a half, waiting for me to come back. We talked forever. I told him about Charles because I knew he would understand. I also told him about dancing with Minnie and how it lifted my spirits so much. We talked so long that I drank the Coke he bought me and even used Minnie’s nickel for a second!

  August 18, 1943

  I’ve been learning how to make all kinds of beautiful bouquets with Minnie. I meet her before I go to work at the metal factory and we make all the bouquets for the day together. She says I surprised her with how well I could choose flowers and that one day I will end up putting her out of business. I’d never do that.

  It was so great that Gran had found out what she was good at doing at such a young age, and that she’d had a mentor in Minnie. Hannah had learned the ropes all by herself—no one understood her job, and sometimes it did feel lonely. She definitely didn’t dance around her office, that was for sure. The deadlines could be taxing, and she couldn’t always get her colleagues to see eye-to-eye with her, but she enjoyed the creativity of it.

  Her phone pinged with an email. It was Amanda. If only the magazine spread could be as uncomplicated as making a bouquet of flowers. She opened the message to read: Hi Hannah, sorry to bother you again but Rich is asking to see the draft layout… Help!

  Rich Baldwin was Hannah’s boss. She set down the journal and decided it was time to read the articles Amanda had sent over, and figure out what to do. She knew it would only send her into hours of thinking and puzzling over how to make everything fit, but she had to face it. Hannah opened her laptop and pulled up the articles for the feature.

  She began to read, and as her eyes moved along the words on her screen, relief like she’d never felt before washed over her. “These are all talking about families and the culture of farm life,” she said in a whisper. “So I need to get photos of a family…” Hannah needed a professional photographer quickly, and she needed a family. She looked up from her computer, knowing exactly where she could get both and wondering if it could be possible. She sent an email to Amanda: I’ve got an idea for the spread! Sit tight! Then she pulled out a pad of paper and got to work.

  Twenty-Two

  The southern weather at this time of year could tantalize with a warm day of mild breeze and spring-like sunshine, and then snatch it all away the next day with gray tormenting skies and a debilitating snowstorm. This morning was one of the good days. The sun was bright in an electric-blue sky, melting the snow and making everything feel like magic. Hannah had gotten up early and was already at The Memory Keeper, on a ladder, putting the finishing touches on the freshly painted white wall as a beam of sunlight stretched across her path.

  “Wow, you move fast,” Georgia said, walking through the door with two cups of coffee and a paper sack from the local coffee shop in each hand, and Jerry in her shoulder bag.

  Georgia had planned to do a couple of interviews with town historians to see if they knew anything about her parents, but she’d come to The Memory Keeper first with Hannah.

  “When I left, you’d just started painting, and now you’ve almost finished that wall.”

  “Just the one coat,” Hannah said from atop the ladder. She’d decided to paint all the walls bright white and then add color using flowers, just like she’d envisioned when she and Georgia had first discussed it. The more time she spent in the shop, the calmer she felt. It was definitely a challenge, but working there was peaceful and comforting.

  “It already looks so much fresher and newer in here.” Georgia set the coffees down on the clean counter in the center of the room and let Jerry out of his bag. He pitter-pattered across the shop floor, sniffing the boxes of flowers.

  “I know.” Hannah leaned back and admired her work.

  As she climbed down the ladder, she caught sight of something black darting past the back-door window. She paced over quietly and looked out, hoping it was Speckles. She’d love nothing more than to see the jet-black cat, lapping up the milk she’d put out for it. But when she got to the window, whatever it was had gone, the milk still there.

  “I haven’t seen the stray cat Speckles that Gran has befriended at all since I’ve arrived home, and I know Gran’s going to ask,” she worried aloud. “I want to be able to tell her she’s just fine. It would be such a good feeling.”

  “Wonder where she’s been this whole time?” Georgia asked.

  “No idea.” Hannah left the door and checked the names written on the side of the coffee cups Georgia had set on the counter, grabbing hers. “What kind did you get me?” she asked.

  “Honey and almond milk.” She lumped the sack on the counter. “I got us muffins too. I ate mine already.”

  “That sounds delicious,” she said, wiping her forehead with her paint-streaked arm. She checked her phone and there were no new messages. She’d texted Ethan this morning to ask again if he’d stop by, but she hadn’t heard from him. She’d told him she’d be there all day.

  “Need anything else before I head out to my interviews?” Georgia asked.

  “I think I’m good here,” she replied.

  “Jerry, come!” Georgia called, scooping up the Chihuahua into her arms. “You sure your dad’s okay with me taking the truck?”

  “Yes, he’s totally fine with it.”

  “And you’ll be all right here at the store?”

  “Of course. I’m painting all day, and even if I have to walk home, it’s totally doable. Gran does it all the time. The weather’s going to be halfway decent today, so the walk should be nice.”

  “Text me if you need me.” Georgia grabbed her coffee, slipped Jerry into his bag, and walked out into the sunshine.

  Hannah felt a swell of optimism as she walked to the back of the room and turned on the old record player. “Rockin’ Robin” began its tweedle, causing her to spin around, forgetting about everything for a minute. She closed her eyes and twirled, letting the sound take her back to simpler times. It was the most cheerful she’d felt in a long time, until the bells on the door jingled.

  Christie stood inside, the door swinging shut behind her.

  Hannah jogged back to the record player and turned it off with a scratch, before going up to the front to greet Christie. “Hello,” she said, approaching her cautiously.

  “I was just wonderin’ if you were here for Ethan,” she said, squaring her chin proudly even though she seemed anxious.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Because if you are, I need you to let us be.” She ran her hand nervously through her wind-blown, wispy hair. “I’m askin’, woman to woman, for you to back off.”

  What was she talking about? “I came home because my gran is sick in the hospital,” Hannah said. “I’ve been in touch with Ethan because he was my best friend. And I’m not taking him anywhere, so you have nothing to worry about.”

  “I’d like you to leave us to our life together. It’s already hard enough without you interferin’. I came in to tell you—please—don’t ask him to paint anything. He said you wanted him to paint somethin’ in here.”

  �
��Why shouldn’t he paint?”

  “Because it puts these big ideas in his head.”

  “What’s so wrong with big ideas? He’s very talented.”

  “He’s got commitments now.” She pursed her lips in disapproval. “Look, when we started datin’, I got pregnant, and he had to go to work for his dad. Paintin’ reminds him of everything he gave up to be Wesley’s father. And he confessed to me once that he feels guilty for ever wantin’ any life other than the one we’ve got, so I know he thinks about it.”

  “He can have both. He doesn’t have to give up painting,” Hannah said.

  “I think he’s afraid of where it might take him if he were to give it his all.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If by some miracle he were to break out of this town, it would eventually take him away from us. What if he ended up in some art gallery in New York City, or somethin’ like that? We wouldn’t know what to do up there. He and I would drift apart, and the next thing I know, Wesley wouldn’t know his father or have anything in common with him. And that’s best-case scenario.”

  “What’s worst case?”

  “He’d waste his whole life tryin’ to be somethin’ he’s not. Me gettin’ pregnant changed things for him, but I think it just made him finally grow up.”

  Hannah thought back to all the times in high school when Ethan had been frustrated with her for planning to leave. But now, she wondered if it was because he too wanted to follow his dreams, and for some reason he didn’t feel that he was capable of doing it.

  “Chasing your dreams isn’t only a childhood endeavor—it shouldn’t be something he has to ‘give up.’ And there’s art here too, you know. He could stay close to his roots and paint around town and in Nashville, like he’d been doing.”

  “But eventually, he’d move on,” Christie said, her face worried.

  “So you’re saying that Ethan isn’t using his God-given talent because of fear that it might give him success? That doesn’t make any sense at all. I think the fear here is yours—you worry that you’re a second choice in his life, and I doubt that very seriously.”

  “Sometimes you just gotta live the life you’re given, ya know?” She gritted her teeth. “You roll into town with these grand ideas, puttin’ thoughts in his head, confusin’ him. Just let him be. We were all just fine before you came.”

  “Were you fine? Because that kind of thinking doesn’t seem fine to me.” She shook her head. “What about you, Christie? What are your dreams?”

  “Me? Oh, I can’t paint or anything. And I don’t live a fancy life like you do. I just work up at the supermarket as a cashier. It’s good pay and they let me work during daytime hours so I can find childcare, and that’s nice of ’em.”

  “But when you were a little girl, what did you want to be when you grew up?”

  Christie’s dubious stare hung between them before she answered. “That’s just it, Miss Townshend—those were my childhood dreams; not talents, not reality. That’s what I’ve been tryin’ to get through to you and Ethan both.”

  “Okay,” Hannah said, switching tactics. “What was your childhood dream then?”

  “To be a dancer. That should prove what I’m sayin’, right there.”

  “Why should it prove anything? If you want to do that, you can. Do you remember when you stopped wanting to be a dancer?”

  “I’ve never stopped, but it makes no sense to think I’d ever be a dancer. I’m five foot three.” She laughed incredulously.

  “However, if you had pursued it, you could be in New York dancing while Ethan paints. Now wouldn’t that be something?”

  Frustration showed on Christie’s face as she put her hands on her hips. “People like Ethan and me don’t live in a big city. It’s not who we are.”

  “Then don’t live in the big city. But I do think you should give yourself permission to follow your dreams.”

  “Let’s agree to disagree.”

  Hannah grinned at her. “I’m gonna get you dancing,” she said.

  Christie looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “What?”

  “I am,” Hannah declared. “I’m going to get you dancing and Ethan painting, and I guarantee it’ll change your life.”

  “Miss Townshend, I think you might be a little crazy.” She said the words, but Hannah noticed the interest in her stare. Perhaps Hannah had offered some faith in the possibilities when Christie hadn’t thought there was any. She definitely didn’t look convinced, but she seemed contemplative.

  “I probably am crazy,” Hannah said. “But I’ve never missed an opportunity.”

  “This talk has been… interesting,” Christie said, turning toward the door. But as she left, she said quietly over her shoulder, “I’ll send Ethan by to take a look at what you need done.”

  “Christie, you’re fabulous!” Hannah called as the door shut behind her. When Christie walked past the display window, Hannah almost swore she could see the makings of a smile on her face.

  “Have you completely lost your mind?” Hannah’s mother asked on the other end of the line, as Hannah stood in the middle of The Memory Keeper. “You’re going to throw all your money into the shop, and for what? We have no way to keep it going, nor has anyone proven that it can be successful in this day and age. We’ve already sunk so much into that place; I just can’t, in good conscience, allow you to spend your hard-earned money on this…”

  “I’m an adult, Mama,” she said. “I’m not going to be reckless, but I have to try. I’m wiping the bills—that’s final. It’s important to me to make it work.”

  “Why, Hannah?” her mother asked.

  She tried to figure out the answer, and while she wanted to say that it was for Gran, something inside her told her it was more than that. She wanted to make memories too, and she truly felt like this was something she should do. She wanted to look back on her life and know she’d made a difference. “I want to see if I can make it successful,” she said.

  “How? You’ll be in New York.”

  “I know. I haven’t figured everything out yet, but the one thing I’m sure about is The Memory Keeper. I can’t let it go.”

  “You’ve always been strong-willed,” her mother said, “but you’ve also been great at everything you do. Let’s see what you can do with it.”

  “Thanks, Mama. I love you.”

  “Love you too.”

  Hannah looked around Gran’s shop with a new sense of purpose. Time to spread her wings.

  “How did the interviews go?” Hannah asked Georgia when she came into The Memory Keeper. She stepped down off the ladder, having finished the wall.

  “I met a great news reporter who’s gonna look around to see what he can find, though the historian had no leads at all.” Georgia let Jerry out of her bag. “But my conversation with the reporter wasn’t entirely about me.”

  “Oh?” Hannah beckoned Georgia to the back, as she went to the kitchenette to wash the paint off her hands.

  “I hope you don’t mind. I was telling him about The Memory Keeper. He wants to do a piece on the revitalization of it.”

  “What?” Hannah asked, flicking the water off her hands, and drying them on a paper towel.

  Georgia stepped up next to her. “Yes. It would be part of a series the paper’s doing on historical properties, and it would be featured on the front page next to the town’s Spring Festival.”

  Hannah threw her arms around Georgia. “That’s amazing! The publicity would be incredible…” She clapped a hand over her mouth in excitement. “When would the piece run?”

  “He wants to do it as soon as we’re ready. Here.” Georgia reached into her pocket and pulled out a business card. “It’s got his name and number. I could definitely help with the photo shoot of the shop…”

  “I’ve got to get Ethan in here, like, now. Do you have the keys to the truck?”

  Georgia handed them to her, a buzzing glimmer in her eyes.

  “Man the fort. I’ll be righ
t back.”

  Hannah burst through the door of the body shop, calling for Ethan.

  “What’s all the fuss?” Ardy said, lumbering up to the front.

  “I need to talk to Ethan. Is he in the garage?” she asked, brushing past Ardy.

  “Hey, you can’t go back there.”

  Hannah pulled open the door and stepped into the large, echoing space, the hissing of hydraulics and whining of drills drowning out her calls for Ethan. She paced through the line of cars, some with the hood up, others on lifts, peering into the faces of the mechanics as they stopped working to give her confused looks.

  “What the heck do you think you’re doin’?” Ethan asked, walking up from the back.

  “I need you,” she said.

  Someone whistled at her from one of the cars.

  Hannah ignored it. “I talked to Christie,” she said.

  Ethan’s eyes widened in guarded interest.

  “She said she’d talk to you. Has she?”

  “Nope.”

  “I need you to paint a mural for me right now.”

  “I already told you—”

  “I know what you said, and I’m not listening to any of it.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him with her toward the door, to the hoots and hollers of Ethan’s fellow mechanics.

  “Hey, where y’all goin’?” Ardy asked as they crossed the waiting area, heading outside.

  “I’m stealing him for a bit,” Hannah said.

  “Ethan, Christie won’t like this!” Ardy called after them.

  “She’s fine!” Hannah said over her shoulder. “I’m getting her dance lessons!” She opened the passenger side of the truck. “Get in. You’re mine for the day.”

  “Dance lessons?” Ethan asked when she’d gotten in the truck.

  “Yep.” Hannah pulled off and headed straight to the paint shop.