The Memory Keeper: A Heartwarming, Feel-Good Romance(68)
She took the offering and tipped it up against her lips. A rush of fruity nectar mixed with the bite of alcohol tickled her taste buds. “I’m supposed to be working,” she teased.
“You are,” he said, patting the top of the barrel. “Draw what you envision for this space. I want to see.”
Hannah took another drink of her wine and then went to work, sketching her suggestions for Georgia’s photos. Her pencil flying over the paper, the ideas were coming faster than she could draw them.
“I had no idea you were so creative,” he said.
She turned her sketch around for him to view. In the drawing Liam sat on a block of hay in the center of the room under the chandelier, with Noah on his knee, teaching his son how to play guitar.
He studied it for a moment. “Alison was the teacher of the two of us. One time, she and I talked about how she’d wanted to teach Noah to eat with chopsticks when he got older… It seemed so silly a thing to consider at the time, but now I always think about who will teach him how. I’ve never used chopsticks… You know, when Alison died and I grieved for her, Noah was so young, and he didn’t understand. Raising him is challenging and terrifying. Noah was fussy—he had tantrums, cried out with nightmares in the night, but he wouldn’t allow me to comfort him.”
“He was heartbroken too,” she noted.
“I know. And I just froze. A friend recommended our nanny, and when she intervened, it provided the relief I needed to move through my grief, but then I didn’t know where I belonged in his life. So I threw myself into work, building the business with Alison’s brother.”
A moment of hesitation flickered across his face, but it was gone before she could make out the reason for it.
“Because,” he continued, “if the role I had was breadwinner, then I was going to be the very best provider for Noah that I could be. Alison grew up quite wealthy, and I felt like I had to prove myself, both for her memory and for Noah.”
“You put a lot of pressure on yourself,” she said.
He nodded. “I just want the people I care about to know they’re loved.”
Hannah put her hand on his arm. “I think Noah might have felt more loved by you at the tire swing and dancing in the kitchen than he has any other time.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “But I needed you to show me how to do it. You’re so good with him—different from his nanny.”
“How so?” she asked, interested to hear his answer.
“Elise is sort of like a schoolteacher. Your interactions are more natural. Like a mother would be.”
The pang that surfaced whenever she allowed herself to think about motherhood washed over her.
“He really enjoys you,” Liam told her. He took a drink from his glass and gazed at her, the vulnerability in his face undeniable. “I enjoy you too,” he admitted.
A flutter spread through her like wildfire. Liam was so different from Miles. He listened to her, and he was open and honest. “You’re pretty great yourself,” she said.
As Hannah stood in the middle of that barn with Liam, New York just didn’t feel like the right place for her. She was falling for Liam, but he and his adorable child would be heading back to Charleston in the coming days. Just when things were starting to feel right.
Twenty-Five
September 7, 1943
I could scream with happiness! I’ve quit my job at the metal company. I just walked right out. Minnie gave me a job with full wages at her floral shop! I’ll be working five days a week with two whole days off! I told Warren all about it, and he said he’s going to call my parents and ask if he can take me to dinner to celebrate! I couldn’t be more excited. And this will give me more time to chat with him. I like our talks. We discuss art and music instead of the politics of war like my parents do. He reads me things I’d have never considered before, and I simply want to soak in every word he has to tell me.
Hannah closed Gran’s journal and set it on the dresser in her room, as daybreak pushed its way through the bedroom window. Things certainly did happen for a reason—look at Gran now. Hannah’s need to make The Memory Keeper a success felt stronger after reading Gran’s words firsthand. Pop-pop and the shop were Gran’s happily ever after, and Hannah couldn’t bear to watch Gran spend her last years knowing things hadn’t turned out like she’d hoped.
Her gaze fell upon the open closet door, noticing her old riding boots. She didn’t know Gran had kept them. They were the shorties she used to love to ride in. The sides were still dirty from the last time she’d ridden, causing a memory to surface.
Eighteen-year-old Hannah put her dusty boot up on the fender of Ethan’s Bronco, which they’d driven around in all summer after he’d cashed in his life’s savings in lawn-cutting money for the hunk of tin he’d sworn he’d restore one day. Hannah fiddled with the hem of her jeans until they felt comfortable around the leather of her boot and then, for good measure, she stomped her foot on the gravel path leading to the old horse barn to shimmy the denim down into place.
The sun had slipped below the horizon, and the lightning bugs danced around them as they stood between the two wide cornfields on Ethan’s grandparents’ property out in the country. The small plot of land boasted a barn and a grazing area for Ethan’s horses, Flash, Emma, and Nugget. Hannah secured her hair with the tie that had kept it out of her eyes earlier today while she’d been riding Flash, her favorite of the three, and jumped into Ethan’s truck.