December, 2009
Christmas music blared from the speakers strategically placed around the ice skating rink. No matter where one was skating--or in Memory Wilson’s case—falling, the festive sounds serenaded the perfect pirouette—or wipe out, as the case may be. Though her friends had been patient and tried to teach her, Memory was sure she’d just never get the hang of it. She’d come to the mall to buy a few last minute presents, not bust her behind on the ice, so she decided to watch from a nearby bench as Kathryn Rodgers and Rebekkah Stephens had fun whizzing past like naturals. Despite the ache in her hip, Memory laughed as they twirled each other around like ballerinas. Twisting her fingers through her long blonde hair, she decided watching wasn’t so bad, and it was a lot less painful.
Mariah Carey’s voice filled the rink, with many an aspiring singer joining in. Memory knew all the words to “All I Want for Christmas Is You” but didn’t sing along. Her voice was better left in her head where only she could hear it. She finished taking off the cumbersome ice skates and slipped her sneakers back on as Rebekkah and Kathryn bumped into the half-wall in front of her. “You sure you’re done?” Rebekkah asked. “It’s not as much fun without you.”
Smiling at her friend’s sweet comment, Memory nodded. “Yes, I’m sure. As it is, I’m going to have bruises. You two go, have fun.”
“We should get some cocoa at that new place by the Chinese restaurant at the food court,” Kathryn suggested.
“Good idea,” Rebekkah agreed, tossing her blonde ponytail over her shoulder. “I’ve heard their mint chocolate is the best.”
Kathryn took Rebekkah’s hand, and the two skated toward the exit, still talking about the cocoa shop. Memory couldn’t help but smile. Rebekkah and Kathryn were her very best friends—except for Grandma Helen. No one could be a better friend than her. The two girls sat down on the bench next to Memory’s and went about changing out of their skates, and her mind drifted.
She’d found the perfect gift for her grandmother. It was a journal with a cardinal on the front cover. Grandma Helen said whenever she saw a cardinal, it was the spirit of someone she loved coming back from heaven to say hello. Memory had no idea how that could be true, but she liked the thought of it. Sometimes, when she was at her grandmother’s large Victorian home, they’d sit by the picture window and stare out at the front yard, watching the birds flutter around the birdbath, flying from tree to tree. It was a magical place, with lots of beautiful plants and flowers. Grandma Helen spent hours telling Memory about each one, how her late husband, Memory’s Grandpa Joe, had planted them, and how Memory’s mother, Ann, had helped. Speaking about Ann seemed to make Grandma happy, so she let her grandma go on whenever she wanted to even though Memory had only met her mother through pictures and stories. She loved hearing about her, though. Whenever a cardinal landed nearby, Grandma Helen often insisted it was either Ann or Joe stopping to say hello, depending upon the color. Memory would smile, wishing it were true that angels could take the form of birds, but she was pretty sure it was just a feathered-friend enjoying her grandmother’s many bird feeders.
A group of boys skated by, their laughter jarring Memory out of her thoughts. Several of them slammed into each other trying to get through the exit at the same time, and she watched with a smile, finding it a little comical that five of them thought they could get out at once. The one at the back who waited on his friends to go first heard her giggle and looked her way. Memory felt her face turn red as his dark eyes landed on her face. He smiled at her, but she looked away. If she had to guess, he was probably about her age, maybe a little older. Since she wasn’t in her hometown of Christmas Falls she had never seen him before. Flirting really wasn’t her thing, even though she did think he was cute with his sprinkle of freckles and long eyelashes. The idea that a boy that attractive might be interested in her seemed comical, despite everyone always telling her how pretty she was.
The boys took up a couple of benches behind Memory and her friends who were still chatting even though they had their shoes on now. “I’ll run the skates back,” Rebekkah said, gathering them up. “Give me yours, Memory.”
“I don’t think you can carry them all,” Memory protested, picking them up herself to take them back.
“Of course I can,” Rebekkah insisted, making a muscle with one arm to show how strong she was. “Don’t underestimate me.”
Laughing, Memory handed them over and watched Rebekkah stroll past the boys with a little more swagger in her walk than normal as Kathryn sat down on the bench next to her. “She’s so silly,” Kathryn said, running her hand through her short brown hair. “I wonder what school those boys go to.”
“They’re probably locals,” Memory said with a shrug. “Carmel High would be my guess. Why don’t you go ask them?” She pushed on Kathryn’s knee, giggling, knowing her friend was just as shy as she was and not likely to say a word to any of them.
“Ha! Go for it!” Kathryn chided, shaking her head. “You know they’d think you’re pretty. Everyone at CFH does.”
“Please!” Melody insisted, shaking her head. “That’s not true, and besides, there’s not a guy at Christmas Falls High that I’d wanna date anyway.”
“I know, I know. You’re going to find the man of your dreams while you’re studying business at Harvard.”
“Not Harvard,” Memory insisted, making her blue eyes wide for emphasis. “But somewhere. I’ll come back, though. I love Christmas Falls. I just don’t like any of the boys in our class. It’s not like we have many to choose from.”
“True. Too bad those guys don’t go to our school.”
Memory stole a glance over her shoulder to see the boy she’d noticed before looking her way. Feeling the heat in her cheeks again, she looked away as Rebekkah “accidentally” bumped into the guy on the end and started chatting. “Great. We’ll be here all day.”
Kathryn pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Not if I can help it.” She sent a quick text, waited a second, and then held up her phone as it dinged. “Bek, come on! My mom is waiting for us at the cocoa shop!”
Memory looked at her friend and not the boys, watching as Rebekkah rolled her eyes. “Fine!” she shouted and then turned back to say something to the boy. Kathryn grabbed her coat and handed Memory hers, holding up Rebekkah’s for her. Their flirtatious friend sauntered over and took it from her outstretched hand. “Couldn’t give me five minutes, huh?” she said, shaking her head.
“Hey, we didn’t come here to flirt with boys,” Kathryn reminded her. “This is our girls’ weekend getaway, remember?”
“Every weekend is a girls’ weekend getaway when you have no boyfriend,” Rebekkah said, pitifully.
Kathryn stood and put her arm around her friend’s shoulders to console her, heading toward the exit. Ever since Rebekkah’s boyfriend had broken up with her a few weeks ago, she’d been a bag of emotions—flirty and fun one minute, desperately sad the next. Memory had no idea what it would be like to be dumped by a guy, so she couldn’t empathize, but she did feel bad for her friend. Her mind was on Rebekkah when she stood and followed behind her friends, hoping the cocoa would cheer her up since Kathryn hadn’t let her flirt with the boys.
Memory had only taken a few steps when she felt a tap on her shoulder and stopped, “Excuse me, I think this is yours.”
Turning her head, her eyes met wide brown ones, a sprinkle of freckles, and a shy smile. “What’s that?” she managed, her heart beating out of her chest.
“This package—is it yours?”
He was holding her shopping bag, the one with her grandmother’s present in it. “Oh, yeah. Yeah, it’s mine. Thanks.” She took it, her fingertips brushing slightly against his, and a tingle climbed her arm. A rush of red crept up her neck to her cheeks, and Memory took a step back, not able to pull her eyes off of his yet.
“You’re welcome,” he said, his grin widening as his face also turned a light pink.
“Cody, come on!” one of the other boys yelled. “Ask her out later!”
The rest of the boys laughed loudly, and Cody’s face turned an even brighter shade of crimson. Memory wasn’t sure what to do or say, so she muttered, “Thanks,” again and hurried off to join her friends. If he said anything else to her, she didn’t hear.
When she caught up to her friends, who’d stopped a few feet away to wait for her, Memory’s heart was thundering in her chest louder than the drums in the song that was playing—which happened to be “Little Drummer Boy.”
“He’s cute!” Rebekkah said, a smile brightening her face. “What did he say?”
“Nothing. He just handed me my bag,” Memory insisted, walking briskly toward the exit.
“Girl, slow down,” Rebekkah called after her. “Did you get his name? His number?”
“No! I just got my bag.”
“For someone named Memory, you sure leave things behind a lot,” Kathryn mumbled. Memory turned and looked at her sharply. “Sorry, sorry. He was cute, though. If he lives here in Carmel, that’s not too far from Christmas Falls. You should go find out.”
Memory shook her head. There was no way she was approaching the rowdy group of boys that were making their way toward the exit on the other side of the rink. “Nope. Come on. Let’s go to the food court before Mrs. Rodgers thinks we’re lost.”
“Okay. Your loss,” Rebekkah muttered, and the three of them headed toward the exit closest to the food court, away from the one Cody was likely walking out of.
Memory didn’t dare look though. If it was meant to be, she’d see him again someday. She tried to put him out of her head and let the mall’s Christmas music fill her mind with happy thoughts. Kathryn was right—she didn’t always have a very good memory, despite her name. But she was pretty sure she’d never forget Cody.
January 31, 2019“Be careful on that ladder,” Memory said, staring up at her older sister Kirsten as she took another step higher toward the top of the Christmas tree.“You mean like this?” Kirsten asked, leaning backward at a precarious angle and waving one arm around, though the other still gripped a rung.“That’s not funny!” Memory glared up at her, holding firm to the ladder to steady it.“Relax, sis. No one’s going to the hospital today.” Kirsten reached the top of the tree and carefully pulled the angel tree topper off, handing it down to Memory, who let go with one hand to take it.Memory studied the angel for a moment. This was her grandmother’s favorite piece. Every year, when the girls’ dad, Bryce, placed it on top of the tree, Grandma Helen would tell the story of how Grandpa J
December 2, 2019Helen Graham rushed down the hall, sliding her feet along the polished white marble like she was a kid, even though she was far from it if she counted by earthly years. After almost eleven months in this place, she was beginning to get used to the Big Guy’s affinity for all things pure and gleaming, though in her own home on the other side of the park from the administrative office she was visiting, she preferred to have as many colors as possible—bold reds, vibrant blues, and a color she hadn’t even known existed until she’d come here—blueple. Joe preferred more muted tones, but he could have all the browns and dark greens he wanted in his man-cave, so long as he didn’t interfere with Helen’s bright living room and kitchen.Glancing down at her watch, she saw that she had two minutes. Punctuality had never been her strength in life, and it was something
Helen took a deep breath, glad to hear it, but the worries didn’t go away quite so easily. As a grandmother, it had been her primary responsibility to worry about her granddaughters for the better part of the last thirty years. “Did you say... watch them?”Stella’s eyes bulged briefly, and Helen watched her throat tighten and then stretch as if she were swallowing something large. “What’s that, now?”“You said you like to watch sometimes.” Helen glanced around the room. “How do you do that, exactly? Could we watch the meet-cute?”“Oh, that.” Stella shook her head quickly, shrugging at the same time. “I don’t actually.... We can’t.... The Big Guy frowns upon anyone other than higher administrative staff, such as myself, doing that. It’s safer that way, you see.”“Safer?” Helen asked.
After a few rings, she said, “Marjorie? Can I speak to Michael, please? Yes, I know this is the busy season, but it’s an emergency. Yes, I’ll hold.” Through the handset, Helen could hear a Muzak version of “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing” and thought it most appropriate.It took a long time for Michael to pick up. When he did, he sounded angry. “Yes, sir, I know,” Stella said. “It was an accident. No, I know this is your busy time of year. No, I’m not trying to mess everything up. Yes, sir. I know. I realize you have no Fixers available. Yes, I know this one is one that really needs fixing. What if... what if Helen goes?”She was quiet for a moment, and Helen couldn’t hear Michael either until he distinctly asked, “Who’s that? I don’t have a Fixer named Helen.”“No, sir, you don’t. She’s... she’s the wo
Memory walked out of the corner coffee shop, sipping her latte, her grandmother’s journal tucked under her arm. The snow beneath her feet crunched, which was better than the slush it would become once the sun was overhead. Her phone dinged, so rather than heading straight for the shop a few doors down, she took a seat on a bench and pulled the device out of her pocket, hopeful it was confirmation that the store she’d been talking to in Indianapolis had decided to place that order for the candy cane ornaments they’d been chatting about for the last few weeks.The bench was snow free, so she set the book down next to her and pulled her glove off with her teeth, shoving it into her pocket so she could open the email. Scanning over it quickly, she saw that it was good news. “Thank goodness,” she muttered, looking up at the heavens. Normally, she’d say something to Grandma Helen in this situation, promising her she wasn&rsq
The bell at the front of the store announced she had a customer. “I’ll be right there!” she shouted, hoping her voice sounded pleasant and not irritated at being interrupted. Slipping the red apron she always wore over her festive red and green sweater and jeans, she pulled her blonde hair out from the neck strap and checked the mirror to make sure it wasn’t sticking up. Satisfied that she looked all right, she tied the apron around her waist and headed out of the stock room, making sure the door clicked locked behind her, and then on through the swinging door to the shop.“Can’t a guy get any service around here?” her dad, Bryce, joked, standing at the front counter.“Dad... what are you doing here? I just left home twenty minutes ago. Did you miss me already?” Memory teased, stopping in front of him.“No, you forgot your lunch.” He handed her the purpl
Appearing out of thin air was a sensation that was going to take a little getting used to. Luckily for Helen, no one was around when she suddenly came to find herself standing around the corner from the town square. She looked down at the bright red coat she was wearing, along with black slacks and very practical, yet stylish, black boots with faux fur trim around the top and thought Stella had done a nice job. With a large, but not gaudy, gold and black handbag slung over her arm, Helen took a deep breath and headed for the shop.She’d only gone a few steps when she caught her own reflection in the window of the empty store next to her destination. “Oh, my!” she gasped, looking herself over. She certainly looked different! Her hair was short and curly—and a fiery red! She ran her hand along the bottom of each side, giving it a little poof. Several inches taller than she was used to being, even without the boots, Helen dared to sa
“Hello, dear,” Helen said, addressing her granddaughter for the first time in a long time. “How are you today?”“I’m good,” Memory applied, turning to the only remaining customer and giving her a bright smile. “How are you?”Helen almost said the same thing she would’ve said when she was alive but caught herself. “I’m fair,” she said—not fair to middlin’—don’t say that. “This is a lovely shop you have here.”“Oh, thank you. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?”“No, no. I just love the holidays. I’m in town for a few weeks, until Christmas, and thought I’d stop by and see what sort of décor I might add to my room at the inn, that’s all.” It sounded rehearsed because she’d been practicing it while she waite