Page 62 of The Christmas Keepsake
“I’ll be Mrs. Claus,” Hollis said before she could protest.
Mallory burst into laughter. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Yeah.” His grin stretched wide, and she felt her heart squeeze. “You can be Mrs. Claus.” He poked a gentle finger into the side of her arm.
“No.” Mallory shook her head. “I don’t act anymore.”
“Come on. It’s like riding a bike. And, from what I remember, you used to love being onstage.”
A bubble of panic grew inside Mallory’s chest, becoming larger and threatening to burst. “Maybe when I was a kid.” In fact, at one point, she’d wanted to go to school for theater. It was in her blood, growing up with Nan and the theater life in the background. “I’m a nurse.”
Hollis glanced upward in a teasing eye roll. “And I’m a construction worker, tree farmer, and dog trainer. Your point?”
She looked away. Being onstage made her feel vulnerable. She’d love to blame the feeling on the time that Hollis had booed her, but they both knew that wasn’t the reason she didn’t want to act.
The truth had more to do with her mother. Acting had also run in Daisy’s veins—so much so that she’d chosen that life over her own children. The older Mallory had gotten, the more she’d resented the thing that had stolen her childhood and, even more, the thing that had robbed Maddie of hers. Being onstage flooded her body with adrenaline like a drug, and it was addictive.
Mallory had spent her life trying to walk this narrow path that had become a tightrope in the air. One misstep and her family would crumble.
She needed to be an easy child for Nan and Grandpa Mickey so that they’d keep her and Maddie.
She needed to fill all the roles in Maddie’s life so that their mother’s void would be smaller.
As a nurse, she needed to fix her patients’ ailments. Over time, Mallory’s logic had become that following her heart, for any reason, was selfish… But saying no to playing Mrs. Claus on Friday would be selfish too.
“I don’t know the lines.”
“Yeah, you do. Miss Carson was beginning to forget the lines, and I’ve been watching. You know every line of the entire play. Just like me.” He narrowed his eyes, his gaze fixed entirely on her. “You told me once that being onstage felt like flying. The truest feeling of freedom that a person can hope for. That’s how you got me to agree to play Santa that year when we were fifteen.” He cleared his throat. “I’d been in and out of foster homes and juvie, and freedom sounded unattainable for me.”
“It did feel like flying,” Mallory said quietly.
Hollis reached for her hands. “Okay, then. Fly with me, Mal. You won’t embarrass yourself, and if you do, I solemnly promise to fall on my face on that stage and make everyone laugh at me instead.”
She cracked a smile. “Why is that somehow appealing to me?”
He stared at her, waiting for her to say yes.
Mallory didn’t have time to weigh this decision. Not this close to opening night. Everything hinged on what she did next. The play was part of the town’s holiday festivities, and the community’s joy hinged on her decision. “I don’t have much choice, do I?”
Hollis squeezed her hands in his, making her look at him again. “You always have a choice. If you say no, I’ll play Mrs. Claus too. I meant what I said. I’m not afraid to make a fool of myself… But I’d rather you be Mrs. Claus to my Mr.”
Mallory relaxed as she met his hot cocoa-colored eyes. He wasdressed in a Santa costume, and she felt a spark in her chest while she was standing right there in front of him. Being forced into the lead role felt scary, but playing the romantic counterpart to Hollis’s character sounded fun. Like flying. “Okay,” she said, nodding to herself. “I’ll have a mic in my ear, and someone can feed me lines if I forget. You’re right, I know the play inside out. Yes,” she said for the second time, and this time it was real. “The show must go on, right?”
“Right. We got this.”
She liked how he said “we.” She wasn’t alone. “We got this,” she echoed.
The thick velvet costume of Mrs. Claus was heavy and hot. Even so, there was a lightness in Mallory’s heart and in her step. She’d forgotten just how much she enjoyed putting on, not just a costume, but also a role.
She’d always enjoyed stepping into a character, as if she were putting on a new pair of shoes. She loved absorbing the character and reflecting it out to the world, as if she were somebody completely different. It was like playing when she was a kid, only better.
Mallory had yearned for the theater back then. Bloom Community Theater ran six plays a year, and Mallory had taken roles in all of them. Maddie, on the other hand, usually went kicking and screaming and preferred to do the backstage work when she was forced to be involved. She’d started off with small roles at first, but then, as the years went on, Mallory got to play bigger roles with more lines and more responsibility. When Nan had given Mallory her first leading role in the theater, Mallory was beside herself.
Mallory hadn’t changed her mind about theater life until her mom, Daisy, showed up out of the blue for one of her rare, unplanned visits.
“A theater major?” her mom had said. “Wow. Just wow. My girl is following in my footsteps. You’re just like me at your age.” It was supposed to be a compliment, but the words had stuck to Mallory’s heart like burrs.
“I mean, you don’t want to stay here and run a little nowhere theater, right?” her mom had asked. “Your grandmother barely makes ends meet here in this little unknown town. You wouldn’t even be able to support yourself. You’ll need to move to a big city to make anything of yourself. Maybe you can room with me. We can go to auditions together,” she said excitedly.
