The Memory Keeper: A Heartwarming, Feel-Good Romance(31)

Liam picked up a frame with a grainy photo of Gran and eight-year-old Hannah, outside Nell Winter’s old barn where Gran used to get her geraniums and have coffee with Nell. “I can still see traces of this little girl in your face now,” he said, looking between Hannah and the photo. He paced further into the room. “You were on the high school gymnastics team? I didn’t know that.” He leaned over the dresser to get a better view of the trophies Gran had placed there.

“I don’t know why she displays those,” Hannah said. “I was packing them up before I moved to New York, and she was visiting at the house. She’d said she wanted to take care of them for me.”

He was thoughtful, that undecipherable look that seemed to come and go at random washing over him again as he set the photo back into its spot. “She asked because she was going to miss you, and she didn’t want to let you go,” he said. “Having your things around would make it feel more like you were here.”

“You think so?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“I know so,” he replied.

“How do you know?” she asked him outright, hoping he’d open up.

“I just do,” he said, turning away from her toward the window and folding his arms. His back heaved with an inhale and he slowly released it, something seemed to be eating at him.

She wasn’t sure what came over her, but she put her hands on his back, moving slowly to his arms, making him turn around.

“What’s the matter?” she asked seriously, looking up into his eyes.

“Nothing,” he said, but something substantial had taken hold of him.

His gaze roamed her face, settling on her lips, his hands finding hers. He intertwined their fingers hesitantly, as if trying on his affection for her for the first time. Their electricity was so new to Hannah, and it occurred to her, in the moment, that she and Miles hadn’t ever had this kind of spark. If she wanted to be brutally honest with herself, the Barbados trip had been covering up the fact things were pretty bleak between them.

“You know, I’m great at listening. If you want to tell me what’s bothering you, I’ll listen.”

He moved in closer. He was so near that she could feel his breath gently brush her skin. He gave her hands an affectionate squeeze, their bodies pulling together like magnets. Everything around them melted away as she looked into his eyes. His lips parted as if he were going to say something, and she hung on his every minuscule movement, waiting for it, wanting to know what was clouding that gorgeous face of his.

The door squeaked and the two of them flew apart instinctively.

Her mother pushed it open an inch further. “Dinner’ll be ready in an hour,” she said, ripping through the moment. “Y’all come on out and have a drink with us. I’ve got that mulled cider. It’s been brewing in the Crock-Pot all day.”

“Thanks, Mama,” Hannah said.

When her mother had shut the door and retreated back down the hall, he looked white as a ghost.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

He didn’t answer.

“Whatever it is, I want to help.”

“You definitely can’t help,” he said, his words kind but final.

“Okay, then I at least want to listen.”

He moved back over to her, standing close again. And she could tell by the shallowness of his breathing that their proximity affected him. “Now’s not the time to explain it,” he said, his voice gentle. He cleared his throat, looking at the door. “It’s your birthday. Your mom has mulled cider, and she’s dying for us to have some—she’s mentioned it twice now.” He winked at her, his spirit seeming to lift, but something told her that the burden he was carrying would return.

Hannah grinned up at him, drinking in the look he was giving her, and knowing that despite everything, something was definitely happening between them. It was like a rocket, its engines firing with no way to stop it.

Liam opened the door. “Let’s get that cider.”

Hannah went with him to the kitchen, her outlook brightening. She remembered how Gran had always told her, “To get to the treasure, sometimes we have to go through the stormy seas.” Hannah couldn’t help but think she was in the storm right now, but being back at Gran’s and weathering it with Liam could be the best thing that had happened to her in quite a while.





Ten





The cake and gifts had been set aside until after dinner, and replaced with plates of fresh homemade bread that her mama had warmed in the oven. She’d scooped out the centers and filled the rolls with her creamy potato-bacon stew, topped with grated cheese. The savory aroma of it tickled Hannah’s nose.

Hannah sat down between her father and Liam, and scooted her chair closer to the table.

“It’s so good to have you kids home,” Maura said, taking a sip of her cider, her shoulders finally seeming to relax from the day. “Where do you live now, Liam?”

“Charleston,” he replied.

“Another out-of-towner,” Mama said with a teasing wink in Hannah’s direction. “We tried to keep Hannah here, but she couldn’t be contained. She was drawn to the bright city lights.”

Liam took in her observation, looking on thoughtfully.

“Remember how you used to put on your mom’s high heels and walk around with a notepad, pretending you were at work?” her father asked.