Chapter Twenty-Three
To be an actor you have to be a child.
—Paul Newman
Mallory’s fingers drummed against the steering wheel as she navigated the winding road to Memory Oaks Nursing Care, her conversation with Maddie echoing in her mind.
It wasn’t like Mallory to let her emotions get the better of her, but Maddie’s insistence and vastly differing opinion about something so sentimental stung.
But Maddie did have a point. Selling was the only answer to being able to afford Nan’s continued long-term care. She was wrong about Mallory not wanting to deal with the theater though—even with the now-necessary repairs.
Mallory pulled into the parking lot of Memory Oaks and took a deep breath, trying to push aside her discombobulated feelings. Nan was sensitive to everything around her. Mallory didn’t want to set Nan off, especially tonight, with the holiday celebration happening in the community room.
As Mallory entered the facility’s lobby, she took in the festive decorations, garlands draped along the reception desk, and the small Christmas tree twinkling in the lobby’s corner. Mallory checked in with Francis at the front desk.
“Is Hollis here yet?” she asked.
Francis shook her head. “Not yet, but he told me earlier that he was coming.”
He’d told Mallory the same. And if he said it, he meant it.
“Nan is already in the community room,” Francis told her. “I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”
Mallory knew Francis meant well, but they both knew that wasn’t always the case.
“We’ll see. Thanks, Francis.” Mallory followed the noise down the hall to the open double doors of the community room, where residents and staff were milling about.
Christmas music played softly in the background.
The large, beautifully decorated tree from Pop’s tree farm dominated one corner, its branches laden with an eclectic mix of ornaments in addition to Nan’s for the Memory Tree.
Mallory looked around until she saw Nan sitting at a table near the tree.
A half-eaten cookie with red and green sprinkles was on the plate in front of her.
Her silver hair was neatly combed, and she was wearing a red sweater that Mallory recognized as one of Nan’s favorites from years past. Nan had always loved crazy Christmas sweaters, which contradicted the rest of her simple, yet classy wardrobe.
Nan’s eyes brightened with a spark of recognition when she saw Mallory approaching. “Hello there, dear.” Nan’s voice was warm but slightly uncertain. “Are you here for the party?”
Mallory managed a smile as she sat down next to her grandmother. “I’m actually here to see you, Nan. It’s me, Mallory.”
Confusion deepened the soft wrinkles on her face.
“Mallory, you say? My, that’s a lovely name.
” Nan averted her gaze and scanned the room.
Her brow crinkled the way it used to when she was focused on outlining a script or rearranging stage directions during the rehearsals of a play.
Then she turned back to Mallory. “Do you like the theater?”
Nan hadn’t talked about the theater in months. “I l-love the theater,” Mallory finally managed, surprising herself because her answer was sincere. “I practically grew up in one.”
Nan’s face lit up. “Oh, that sounds nice! I used to run a theater, you know.”
Mallory nodded. “That sounds nice too.”
“It was…” Nan said, hesitating as if reaching for the exactly right words. “It was the most magical place in the world.”
Mallory blinked back tears. “I bet it was magical.”
As they talked, Mallory found herself slipping into the rhythm of conversation with this new version of her grandmother. Nan might not remember their shared history, but her love for the theater shone through in every anecdote, every enthusiastic gesture, as she described her favorite plays.
Alzheimer’s was such a complicated illness that Mallory still didn’t understand, even though she’d exhausted Google researching it.
Even though she was a nurse. Deep down, Mallory knew that Nan probably wouldn’t hold on to this sudden knowledge of theater.
Tomorrow, she might not remember the theater at all.
After a while, a staff member announced that it was time for residents to hang their memory ornaments on the community tree.
Mallory reached into her bag and pulled out the next ornament in Nan’s story. “I brought you something special.” She held up a pink baby bootie. “Look how cute this is.”
Nan turned her gaze and took in the ornament. “A sock?” she whispered quietly. “That’s an ornament?”
“Unusual, isn’t it?”
Nan stared at it intently. “I think… I think that meant something to me.”
Mallory’s heart nearly stopped. When Nan had a good day, she really did have one.
Slowly, Nan reached out and touched the ornament, her finger tapping it and causing it to sway gently like the pendulum of a clock.
“Did you know that I had a daughter? Her name was… Daisy.” Nan narrowed her eyes.
“She looked like you. Are you—are you my Daisy?” Nan’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh. Oh, my. You are, aren’t you?”
The hope in Nan’s eyes broke Mallory’s heart. She wanted to tell her yes, but she didn’t want to lie. She’d never lied to Nan, and she wasn’t about to start now. “No, Nan. My name is Mallory.”
“Oh.” The light in Nan’s eyes was like a star burning out as it fell from the sky. Nan looked down at her lap.
Mallory gently placed the ornament in Nan’s age-spotted hands. “Here. Let’s hang the bootie ornament on the tree.”
Nan held the ornament, but she didn’t move. “I’m not as sprightly as I once was. I don’t think I can hang it on my own.”
Mallory stood and took control of Nan’s wheelchair, steering her toward the front of the room. “That’s why I’m here. I’ll help you.”
“Such a sweet girl.”
Once they were standing in front of the tree, Mallory locked the chair’s brakes and guided her grandmother to stand.
Nan’s hands shook as she reached out to hang the ornament, but her face was serene, almost reverent. “Daisy grew up in the theater just like you,” Nan said, talking to herself as much as to Mallory.
Mallory was encouraged that Nan was still engaging in the same conversation that they’d started five minutes earlier. “Daisy must have been such a happy child.”
“Of course. Even an adult can feel like a child again in the theater,” Nan quipped. “I always did, at least.”
Mallory had too. And she’d felt freer lately than she had in a long time.
As Mallory helped Nan settle back into her chair, they admired the tree with all its ornaments and lights, tinsel and garland.
Then Mallory turned to take Nan back to her spot at the table but noticed Pop sitting at the opposite corner of the room.
Hollis’s grandfather looked small and somewhat lost in an oversize armchair.
He was a newer resident here, and she imagined he didn’t quite feel at home yet.
Mallory glanced at the large clock on the wall above Pop. Where is Hollis? It wasn’t like him to be late, especially not for something involving Pop.
“Hey, Nan, would you like to say hello to Pop?” Mallory gestured toward the elderly man.
Nan’s gaze followed the direction of Mallory’s pointer. “That man’s name isn’t Pop.”
Mallory frowned, afraid that Nan’s moments of clarity were gone. “It is. He’s a good friend of mine.”
“Oh, he’s a friend of mine too. Or used to be.” Nan craned her neck to look at Mallory behind her pushing the wheelchair. “His name is Ralph.”
Mallory stopped in her tracks, her breath catching as she looked at Nan and then Pop, sitting by the window.
No. No, this was just Nan’s memories blurring.
Mallory wasn’t sure who the man in Nan’s journal entries was, but surely he wasn’t Hollis’s grandfather.
“Well, he looks like he could use some company. Let’s go say hello? ”
As they crossed the room, Mallory pulled her phone from her pocket and quickly typed out a text to Hollis:
Mallory: Everything okay? We’re at Memory Oaks for the tree decorating. Pop’s here, but no sign of you yet.
Pop’s weathered face broke into a small grin as he saw Mallory and Nan approach. “Well, hello there, Nan,” he said, his voice rough but warm. “Come to join a brooding man in the corner?”
Nan laughed, the sound light and carefree. “Now, now,” she chided. “No brooding allowed at Christmas. Have you hung your ornament yet?”
“My grandson is supposed to bring me one,” he said, making a show of looking around. “Hollis must be caught up in something more important than an old man like me. Maybe he’s found himself a date. I gave him a few pointers the other day,” Pop added, smiling at Mallory and offering a wink.
Mallory laughed quietly and listened as Nan engaged Pop in more conversation.
They talked like old friends, which warmed Mallory’s heart.
This was a wonderful place for Nan. Safe and joyful despite the pain and frustration that the patients’ ailments brought.
The joy on Nan’s face right now was priceless.
Except it did have a price. One that Mallory was having a difficult time affording.
Mallory’s phone buzzed. That must be Hollis. Mallory reached inside her pocket for her phone, disappointed when she realized the message was from Savannah.
Savannah: How’s Nan? Tell her hello for me.
Mallory was always happy to hear from her best friend, but growing concern niggled in her gut. Hollis had been attending events like these at Memory Oaks long before his grandfather moved in. Hollis brought his therapy dog and his charming personality. What was keeping him tonight?
“Oh, look.” Pop pointed across the room as the staff gathered along the wall wearing red Santa hats. Then they broke out in song. “Carolers.”
Nan hummed along, occasionally using her full voice for a line or two that she seemed to remember.
Watching and listening, Mallory felt a fierce protectiveness well up inside her.
She had an impossible choice to make, but there really was no choice.
Keeping Nan at this facility was the most important thing.
Mallory could only work so many extra shifts at the hospital before she burned out completely.
Nan touched Mallory’s arm, her eyes clear and bright. “Having you here means more than you know.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else, Nan.” Mallory’s gaze jumped to Pop. Hollis wouldn’t be anywhere else either. Not if he could help it.
The niggling concern hit a discordant note in the otherwise harmonious evening.
Where is he?