Chapter Seventeen #2
“Honestly, I’m not offering a whole lot.
My proposal is that we have the play here, in Pop’s barn.
” Hollis rubbed the back of his head. “When I mentioned that Nan’s granddaughter needed help finding a place for the Christmas play this year, you should’ve seen his face light up like a Christmas tree.
First time I’ve seen him that happy in weeks. ”
Mallory searched Hollis’s expression, trying to decipher if he was joking, but she didn’t think so. “You want to hold my grandmother’s play in a barn? No offense, but…?”
“Use your imagination, Mal. Obviously, the theater is where everybody would prefer to gather. But outdoor productions are popular, you know. And we have space heaters in every corner to make sure everyone is warm and cozy.” He pointed them out.
“This is where you use that imagination again. Visualize chairs and a makeshift stage. The crew and I can make that in half a day’s work. ”
Mallory was surprised that she caught his vision, a little glimmer of light in the darkness. “It could work,” she finally said.
Hollis’s grin came in full force. “That’s what I’m talking about.”
“With the space heaters, we wouldn’t be cold. And we could have hot cider.”
“And cocoa.” His eyes twinkled as his voice dipped. Hot cocoa was their thing. They’d only been on one official date, and already they had a thing. “This would only be for this year, of course. Next year Bloom Community Theatre will be back in working order. I’ll see to it myself.”
Mallory wasn’t so sure of that. Somehow she felt like nothing would ever be normal again. Staring up at Hollis though, maybe change wasn’t always a bad thing.
“The repairs won’t happen right away because the crew is booked through the end of December, but Matt’s already volunteered the work pro bono. It’s not just me. We all want to do this for you. For Nan. All you have to do is say yes.”
He made it sound as if he were asking for a favor. “I appreciate your offer to help with the repairs,” she said, “but once they’re finished… we’re planning to sell. I don’t see any way around it.”
Hollis stood straight. “I was kind of hoping you would change your mind on that.”
She hadn’t made the decision lightly. In fact, it felt heavy on her shoulders.
At least she could give Nan this last production.
“All right. If we’re going to do this, have the play in Pop’s barn, I don’t want to make a disaster out of Nan’s play.
The final production of Santa, Baby needs to be fitting of my grandmother’s legacy. ”
“I’ve made a mess out of a lot of things in my life,” Hollis told her, “but I would never do anything to make a mess out of Nan’s life, or yours.”
She gave him the side-eye. “Except for that one time you booed me off the stage in my first leading role? Except for that time?” She was only teasing him, of course. She gave him another pointed look. “Thanks for the help. And the hope. You’re a good f-friend, Hollis.”
His eyes narrowed. They both knew they were well past friends, regardless of the number of dates they’d been on.
Two hours later, Mallory released the crew to go home. Rehearsals had gone off without a hitch, in a barn of all places. Mallory wasn’t sure if Nan would be amazed or horrified.
Nan was always so meticulous. Her theater was a nice environment. Most of the people in the audience dressed up when they went to the theater. Attending a Bloom Community Performance was considered a special occasion. Having Nan’s play performed inside a barn would be a whole new experience.
“Well?” Hollis stepped up beside Mallory, looking quite proud of himself. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that I can’t wait to visit Nan tomorrow and tell her that we rehearsed her play in a barn.
” Mallory was only being halfway serious.
Discussing anything from Nan’s past was a risk.
The struggle to remember was a trigger sometimes.
It was as if Nan was wavering somewhere between her fantasy world and the real one, and she couldn’t figure out where she belonged.
“The Nan I know these days,” Hollis said, “would think this turn of events is amazing. In fact, I think she’ll want to be front and center for opening night.”
Mallory didn’t think that was likely, but she didn’t want to get into that discussion tonight.
“Thank you again,” she said, feeling a warmth spread from the top of her head down to the tips of her toes.
She thought she hated accepting help, but right now it felt kind of good.
Hollis’s kindness felt like receiving a Christmas gift, and she’d never minded those.
Hollis himself felt like a gift this year, bringing humor and joy to her whenever he was around.
She found herself longing to see him more and more lately.
Oh no. No, no, no.
There was no way she was going to allow herself to fall in love right now. Nan was depending on her. Maddie was depending on her. The entire town of Bloom too. “No!” Mallory whispered, taking a backward step.
Hollis gave her a strange look as his mouth slid into a thin frown. “Second thoughts about the barn theater?”
“No.” She laughed nervously. “Just talking to myself.”
Hollis lifted a brow.
She waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing to worry you about. You’ve done enough.
Truly.” Mallory’s eyes began to burn. Really?
More tears? She wasn’t normally a crier.
She wasn’t typically someone who got rattled by a handsome, bighearted guy either.
Big heart. Big shoulders. Wide chest that she felt the sudden need to bury herself into.
How would it feel to have him wrap his arms around her, making her feel safe and warm?
No, she thought, keeping the word to herself this time. Snap out of it, Mal.
“Okay, well, I’ll see you tomorrow night,” she said, eager to run, as fast as her feet would carry her, back to her car. Maybe she needed another hour or two in the Finders Keepers Library to clear her mind.
“Same time, same place,” he said with a wave.
She turned back to him as she walked away, giving him a teasing glance. “I’m still the director, right?”
“Of course. You’re the boss.”
Boss. Friend… Nothing more, she repeated to herself all the way home. Once she was there, she washed her face and changed into her pj’s. Afterward, she pulled Nan’s journal out of her purse and brought it to bed with her, settling in to learn more about her grandmother’s secret life.
In a way, Mallory was learning about herself too. Maybe there were reasons Mallory acted the way she did. Maybe she got all her insecurities and strengths honestly.
Opening the journal to the page where she’d left off, she pulled in a breath and started to read, anxious and terrified at the same time.
Her entire life these days was a roller coaster of emotions, similar to the holidays of her childhood, when she knew joy was supposed to be the predominant feeling, except she masked a lot of sadness and loneliness too.
But she’d never shared any of those raw, deeper hurts with anyone.
Was that how Nan had been? Was that why she’d turned her stories, her feelings, into these memory snapshots inside this journal? Into the ornaments for her Memory Tree?
The Glove Ornament
The Glove Ornament can be found in the box with the number 9 on the tag. Lift off the lid, and yes, that is a boxing glove. Anything can be turned into an ornament with a little string of ribbon, which I’ve added. The Glove Ornament should be hung ninth down on the tree.
Here’s the story behind it.
The first draft is never the final one. All writers know that.
The first draft of Santa, Baby was actually very different.
It was merry and exactly what you’d expect from a holiday play.
It didn’t feel like the truth anymore though.
As I healed and leaned into being a new wife, the seed of an idea in my mind formed.
What if Santa and Mrs. Claus weren’t always the jolly couple?
They must have had their early years, right?
The ones that determined if they, as a couple, would stick or fall apart. No couple is exempt from those times.
The edits poured out of me like honey onto the pages, and many of the pages of that original notebook have watermarks from my tears.
In every bad situation, there’s a blessing if you look for it.
I felt like Sylvester Stallone writing my own script the way he did for Rocky—thus the boxing glove.
I think Sylvester wrote Rocky in a week.
It took me more like two and a half weeks to completely transform my original play.
And when the script was done, I stood from my desk and walked through the house.
It was late at night, so Mickey was sleeping.
I tapped his shoulder, stirring him awake.
“I’m done.”
His eyes widened as he woke up faster than I’d ever seen. I guess he thought I was leaving again.
“No.” Shaking my head, I put my hand on his arm. “I’m done writing that story. I’m ready for a new one. I’m ready to fight.”
That got his attention. “What’s wrong?”
I remember laughing at him. “Nothing’s wrong. I want to fight for my life. To get back to living. To be your wife again.”
“You never stopped being my wife,” he said.
“I want to have a baby with you,” I told him, my eyes welling.
I’d wanted it so badly that it hurt like nothing I’d ever experienced.
I wasn’t going to allow myself to roll around in my sorrow or self-pity though.
“We will. We’ll try for a baby together,” I said with determination.
“Not now, of course. Dr. Webber said it’ll be a while before my body is ready to hold another baby.
” I assumed it wasn’t even possible. “But we can practice.”
He looked at me, and I can only wonder what was going through his sweet mind. “Now?”
That’s not exactly what I meant, but I wanted to feel his arms around me, wrapping me in love and making me feel safe. “Or we can put on the boxing gloves,” I suggested, “and fight for real.”
“I do have a pair,” he admitted, leaning toward me. “But I’m more of a lover than a fighter.”
During my life, I’ve been equal parts lover and fighter. You have to fight, especially when you’ve been knocked down. If you lose the will to fight, then you also lose the will to love. That’s what Santa and Mrs. Claus taught me in the rewrites.
So, darling granddaughters, put your gloves on. Channel your best Rocky. Live. Love. And fight for what matters.