The Memory Keeper: A Heartwarming, Feel-Good Romance(37)

“We don’t know what the outcome of this will be, but she’s ninety-five, Hannah. I think it’s important to spend as much time with her as you can over the next few days. Read her journal if that’s what she wants you to do. She’d asked me about fifteen times if I’d found it. Get all your family questions answered. And show her how much you love her.”

Her mother had only taken that tone twice in Hannah’s life: once, when Hannah was eight and a tornado had ripped through their neighborhood, her mother had gathered Hannah, her father, and her childhood dog, and they’d hunkered down in the closet under the stairs as the house shook. The second time was when her father had had his heart attack. That phone call at nearly midnight was still fresh in Hannah’s mind.

“In the journal, she talks about someone named Charles. Not Dad, but some other Charles. Do you know who that is?” Hannah asked, her hands trembling.

Her mother shook her head. “I have no idea.” She reached over to the kitchen counter and pulled a tissue from the box, blowing her nose, the tears still swimming in her eyes.

Hannah clasped her hands together, leaning on them, lost in contemplation about the time she’d never get back while Ethan rubbed her shoulders consolingly.

Maura got up and walked around behind her, putting her arms around her daughter in a motherly embrace. “Go see her,” she whispered. “It’ll do the both of you good to talk to one another. I’ve always admired the way you two can communicate.”

“Okay,” Hannah said, clearing her throat in a feeble attempt to push the emotion away as she stood up.

Ethan gave her a squeeze.

“Do you have time to go with me this morning, Ethan?” Hannah asked.

“Dad told me I could have as much time as I need.” Ethan looked her straight in the eyes. “I know how you like to process things. Take a minute and breathe. I’ll hang out with your mama until you’re ready.”

“Okay.” Surprising herself, she threw her arms around Ethan. “Thank you,” she said, her face buried in his chest, his familiar cotton and cedar scent calming her immediately.

“No problem,” he said quietly.

Hannah headed down to Gran’s room to freshen up for the hospital visit. She shut the door and fell against it, her chest heaving with the emotions that came as soon as she was alone. Her gaze roamed the room—Gran’s dressing table, her soft-bristled hairbrush with the silver handle sitting unused, her pair of slippers lined up neatly under the chair, a string of pearls nestled in a porcelain dish on her nightstand. She let the tears come.

Her phone pinged with a notification, and she pulled it from the back pocket of her jeans. It was work. Something from the IT department. She couldn’t look at it in the state she was in. She’d read it later.

She grabbed Gran’s journal, hugging it to her chest. It was a comforting force; Gran’s voice when it was still vibrant and untainted by time. She’d take just a quick minute and read a few entries to compose herself. She had to be unruffled when she walked into that hospital room. With a deep breath, Hannah opened the journal and settled in to find her calm.

March 25, 1943



James Williams is not to be trusted. He worked Sally Mae and me all day on the assembly line and then wouldn’t let us go until a whole hour after our shift had ended. He said he’d pay us overtime, but I don’t believe it. Last time he said that, there was nothing new in my paycheck. I hate working at the factory. I understand that we’re helping America by making guns for the war, and it’s good money for my family, but it’s the same thing day in and day out, and my feet hurt so much after standing on them all day. I should be thankful to have a job when so many still don’t make enough money to support their households, and I’m helping the family because Daddy can’t find work that pays enough. But it doesn’t make me like the job any more.





While she still wrestled with her own problems, after reading about Gran’s strength in her time of uncertainty, Hannah was feeling stronger herself about seeing Gran. She sharpened her hearing to make out Ethan telling her mom a story, the two of them laughing. Despite the circumstances that had brought her here, she was glad she was home.





Thirteen





“Hey, Gran,” Hannah said, as she and Ethan entered the hospital room from the brightly lit hallway.

Gran’s empty stare at the wall across from her bed shifted, her head slowly turning toward them as a smile emerged on her pale, weathered lips. She raised her arms for an embrace, the IVs pulling taut, the sight causing Hannah to hurry to her bedside. She wrapped her arms around her frail grandmother.

“It’s so good to see you,” Hannah said, through the shock of witnessing Gran in that state.

Gran pulled back. “Don’t you fuss over me. I’m just fine. I always look like this,” she said, reading Hannah easily. “It’s just that I usually cover it up with makeup and hairspray,” she teased. “And I’ve never been so hydrated in all my life.” Her grandmother tugged gently on the IVs going into her arm.

Hannah smiled to disguise her worry.

“I see you’ve brought your partner in crime,” she said with a wink toward Ethan. Gran had always teased them that there was no other name for two people who were capable of getting into so much mischief together.