Chapter Twenty-Seven
Memory is not an instrument of exploring the past, but its theater.
—Walter Benjamin
Mallory closed Nan’s journal and looked out at the bustling energy of the cast and crew as she sat on a bale of hay.
Tonight wouldn’t be the first time Nan’s play had been performed in the Popadine barn.
That was a detail Mallory never would have known if not for her grandmother’s journal.
There were so many facts that might have been lost along with Nan’s memories if they hadn’t been written down inside this book.
Placing the journal back inside her bag, Mallory glanced at her watch and felt a twinge of anxiety. In just a few hours, the curtain would rise on Santa, Baby—the play that she wasn’t just directing but had somehow also found herself starring in, thanks to Hollis.
Hollis. Her heart ached, and a sudden rush of emotion threatened to overtake her.
There was no time for that right now though.
She had a play to put on. Pushing thoughts of Hollis aside, she placed Nan’s journal back in her bag and focused on her lines and cues.
The show must go on. With or without him.
As the rest of the cast arrived, Mallory slipped out momentarily and headed to Memory Oaks.
Even though Nan might not understand what Mallory was doing for her tonight, she wanted to visit and let Nan know that she’d kept her promise.
She also hoped to draw strength and inspiration from her grandmother’s presence.
The familiar halls of Memory Oaks greeted her as she walked along, admiring the festive decorations adorning every surface. When Mallory didn’t find Nan in her bedroom, she changed direction and spotted her in the common room, sitting by the window, a blank expression on her face.
“Hi, Nan,” Mallory said softly, settling into the chair beside her. “It’s me, Mallory.”
She instantly regretted that greeting, knowing Nan would have no idea who she was.
Nan turned to her with unfocused, confused eyes. “Hello, dear… Are you new here?”
Mallory tried not to take it personally. As a nurse, she knew the lucid moments were unpredictable and fleeting. “No. Just visiting. I actually came to tell you a story, if that’s okay?”
“Really?” Nan looked delighted. “I do love stories.”
“Me too.” Taking a deep breath, Mallory pulled out Nan’s journal and turned to the page for next entry. “It’s a love story, actually. About my grandmother and her husband, Mickey.”
As Mallory spoke, she realized it was a love story, but not necessarily the romantic kind. It was a story quilted together, square by square, ornament by ornament, about the kind of love that existed in families, and among friends too.
She began to read, taking her time and looking up every now and then to analyze Nan’s expression. Or lack thereof. There was no spark of recognition, no hint that Nan realized the story was about her own life. But there did seem to be genuine interest.
Mallory’s eyes stung as she described, through Nan’s lens, the last time Daisy ran away from home, leaving Mallory and Maddie behind once more, and how Mallory stoically mothered her younger sister. Then she read about being cast alongside Hollis and how Nan had regretted that decision.
As if sensing Mallory’s pain, Nan reached out and patted her hand.
“She sounds like a strong young lady,” Nan commented.
Mallory blinked back tears. “Why is it that people consider all the pain we endure a sign of strength? Why is it spoken of like it’s a good thing to be taken advantage of, lied to, to have our hearts broken?” She felt the tears slip onto her cheeks. “I don’t think that’s very fair.”
Nan watched her, still holding her hand. Then she offered a gentle squeeze as her eyes cleared for just a moment. “Because we need to think there’s some good to come out of all the bad things we go through. If thinking the pain makes us stronger is what helps us heal, then so be it.”
There. There was the wisdom of the grandmother Mallory needed so much right now.
She choked back a sob and leaned forward to hug Nan, knowing it might break the moment of clarity, but she didn’t care. She needed Nan so much it hurt.
Nan’s arms enclosed around her, soaking in the hug that was all too brief.
When Mallory finally pulled back, Nan’s gaze lowered to the book in Mallory’s lap.
“Whose story is that?” Nan asked.
Mallory had thought it was Nan’s but she realized now it was so much more. It was also her mother’s story. And Maddie’s. And hers. “It’s my family’s story.”
“Well, I hope it has a happy ending. I never did like those tragic stories. Shakespeare was the worst,” Nan said distastefully.
Mallory found herself bursting into unexpected laughter. “Agreed… I hope it has a happy ending too. Speaking of which, I need to go. I’m directing a play tonight. And starring in it too.”
Nan clapped her hands together in front of her chest. “How exciting. Oh, I’m so happy for you.
There’s something I should say.” She looked down, as if searching for a lost earring, and then finally back up at Mallory.
“Break a leg.” Her lips immediately dropped into a frown.
“I’m so sorry. I’m not sure why I said that. ”
Mallory laid a hand on Nan’s shoulder. “It’s theater talk. It means good luck.”
“It does?”
Mallory wished she could lean in and kiss her temple, but that was a risk she best not take tonight. “Thank you for visiting with me.”
Nan grinned. “Come back and see me, and tell me all about how tonight goes.”
“I will.”
After she left Memory Oaks, she climbed into her car, realizing she hadn’t taken her cell phone into the facility. Instead, it lay in her middle console. Tapping the screen, she saw missed call and text notifications. Most of them from Hollis.
Her heart rate quickened as she listened to his voicemail. “Mallory, please call me back when you get this. I need to explain… I’m so sorry.”
She thought about the play and all the work she’d put in, and about how Evan had stepped into Hollis’s role to make up for his absence. Evan didn’t want to, of course. He wasn’t prepared. But he’d said yes because he was a loyal friend—to Hollis and to Mallory.
Despite everything, a part of her longed to hear Hollis’s voice, to check on him and make sure he was okay. It was too risky right now though, with the play opening its curtains in under an hour. All her energy needed to be directed toward that. Sorry, Hollis.
Whatever Hollis had to say, it would have to wait until after the performance.
There was no time for games tonight. She had a play to put on, with or without him.
Mallory typed out a quick message:
Mallory: I’ll call you after the show.
As she hit send, Mallory took a deep breath. Then she tossed her phone onto the passenger seat and put the car in drive.
As she drove back to the barn theater, she found herself humming the song that opened the show. Whatever the future held, with Hollis, her career, and with her grandmother, she knew one thing for certain: Tonight, she would make Nan proud.
Mallory stood inside a tent, which served as the dressing area of the barn theater, her heart racing. The air was thick with the scent of hairspray and the buzz of preshow jitters. She smoothed down her costume, a vintage-inspired dress that sparkled under the lights, and took a deep breath.
“All right, everyone,” she called out, her voice carrying over the chatter. “Gather round, please!”
The cast members, all in various states of costume and makeup, huddled around her. Evan stood at the edge of the group, a serious look on his face, which let her know that he was all nerves. The kind of nerves that came with not being prepared enough.
“Evan,” Mallory said, meeting his eyes, “you ready?”
He tapped the small earpiece he wore. “All set. I’ve got the lines if I need them, but I stayed up half the night. I think I’ve got most of my part down.”
“You’ll do great. We all will.” She looked around at the faces of her castmates, seeing anxious excitement reflected at her.
“I know we’ve had some last-minute changes,” she continued, carefully avoiding mentioning Hollis by name, “but we’ve worked hard, and we’re ready for this.
Remember, this play isn’t just about us.
It’s about Nan, about this town, about the magic of Christmas and theater…
” She took a cleansing breath, feeling a rush of theater nerves.
“Okay, everyone. Let’s make Bloom proud. ”
A chorus of agreement rose from the group, and Mallory felt a surge of affection for her fellow actors. They’d rallied around her, adapting to the changes without complaint. All the complainers had dropped off early in the process. Growing pains, Nan would have said.
“Places in five minutes,” called Savannah, who was serving as stage manager.
The group dispersed.
Mallory made her way to the makeshift wings, which were basically some boards of plywood standing vertically.
She peeked out at the audience filing in.
The barn was transformed, twinkling lights strung across the rafters and the scent of pine and cinnamon filling the air.
Her heart swelled with pride at what they’d accomplished.
At what would not have been possible without Hollis.
She swallowed hard, wishing he were here. She wished Nan were here too. And Maddie. Scanning the crowd, she blinked and wondered if she was hallucinating. But no, there in the back of the barn was her sister, wheeling herself down the aisle with Sam at her side.
Mallory squealed softly and slipped out from behind the curtain to make her way to her sister before the show. “Maddie? I didn’t think you’d be here.”
Maddie offered back a hesitant smile. “That’s my fault for letting you even think that. I’ve kind of been working my way out of a dark spot.” She glanced at her husband. “Not alone. Sam and Renee have been helping me.”
“So I hear. How are those big plans you were telling me about coming along?”
“Stalled. We’re looking for a location. The one we had in mind fell through.” She frowned momentarily. “But we’ll figure it out. You aren’t the only one with ambition,” Maddie teased.
Mallory didn’t think she had as much ambition as she once had, but that was okay. “Well, if you get some time, I want to tell you what I’ve learned from reading Nan’s journal.”
Maddie nodded. “I’d like that.” She held out a bouquet of flowers. “Now, go break a leg.”
Mallory accepted the flowers. “Funny. Nan just said the same thing to me about an hour ago. You’re a lot like her, you know.”
“Me?” Maddie looked surprised. “I always thought it was you who had a special connection with Nan. She liked to say I reminded her of our mom.” Maddie grimaced. “I’m not sure if that was an insult or a compliment.”
“Compliment,” Mallory assured Maddie, reaching out to touch her shoulder. “The best kind.”
Mallory leaned down, enveloping her sister in a tight hug. She didn’t want to let go because she missed Maddie so much these days, but she had to. It was almost time for the curtains to open. “I’ll see you after?”
Maddie nodded. “Break two legs,” she called as Mallory headed toward the backstage, her heart lighter than it’d been in days. “We can get matching wheelchairs for a while.”
Mallory felt her eyes go wide.
“Laughter is better than tears.”
“True.” With a wave, Mallory headed back toward the side of the makeshift stage. “There’s our leading lady,” one of the cast called.
Mallory glanced around. Everyone was here except Hollis.
A pang of sadness hit her, but she pushed it aside.
“All right, everyone,” she said, her voice steady and clear.
“This is it. Nan wrote this play with love and laughter, and that’s exactly what we’re going to bring to the stage tonight.
“Evan,” she said, addressing the newest cast member, “you’ve stepped up in a big way, and we’re all grateful.
Just remember, we’ve got your back out there. ”
He nodded. “I’ll do my best not to make a fool of myself.”
“If you mess up, I solemnly promise to throw myself off the stage to divert the attention,” she said, remembering when Hollis had said the same to her just a couple of weeks ago.
He looked horrified. “Don’t do that. I’ll survive any embarrassment.”
She laughed. “We’ve all got your back. Right, everyone?”
The group agreed.
“Okay. Let’s do this!” Mallory called, pulling in a deep breath.
As the curtain rose and the familiar opening notes of the opening song filled the air, Mallory stepped onto the stage.
The lights were blindingly bright, but as she adjusted, she looked out at the audience, a sea of expectant faces.
All of them were used to attending Nan’s plays at the theater.
Tonight would be different, but she hoped they’d all enjoy the show.
Taking a deep breath, she channeled the love and passion Nan had poured into this play, year after year.
Mallory’s nerves settled as soon as she delivered her first line.
The freedom of being onstage in front of a live audience reminded her just how exhilarating it was.
Acting really did feel like flying. Then she blinked and her mind froze midsentence.
Was that Hollis? Was this an illusion? Wishful thinking maybe?
No. He’d told her he wasn’t coming, and she was pretty sure he’d meant it.