The Heart of Memory

THE HEART
OF MEMORY

ALISON STROBEL

Contents

Cover

Title Page

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

EPILOGUE

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

About the Author

ALSO BY ALISON STROBEL

Copyright

About the Publisher

Share Your Thoughts

CHAPTER 1

K
NOWING THERE WAS ALWAYS SOMEONE WATCHING HER AT
these conferences, Savannah Trover kept her mouth moving as the crowd sang along with the worship band. She wasn’t on stage yet, but sitting on deck with the other speakers made her nearly as visible. She was just glad no one had heard when her voice had given out with a squeak on the last verse, and hopefully no one around her noticed she wasn’t actually singing anymore.

Lousy timing, God
she prayed as she took a casual glance to the door behind her. Where was Marisa? Savannah went on in ten minutes and wouldn’t have a voice to teach with if she didn’t get some Ricola and water soon.

The song ended and a new one began, admonishing her to trust in the Lord.
Shame on me. Thanks for the reminder.
She straightened her shoulders and mouthed the words to save her voice while she tried not to panic that she’d bomb when she took the stage.

A hand on her arm startled her from her thoughts. Marisa held out a bottle of water and an unwrapped lozenge. “Sorry it took so long,” she whispered. Savannah smiled and waved away the apology as she took the lozenge. Marisa always knew exactly what she needed. Savannah wished the ministry could afford to give her a raise; she certainly deserved one.

Marisa pulled Savannah’s phone from her pocket and handed it to her. “Shaun texted three times while I was in the dressing room. I figured it must be important if he was trying to reach you when he knows you’re teaching this morning.”

Savannah drained half the water, then popped the lozenge and took the phone.

Leather bound exec checkbook — can’t find it.

Know where it is?

She frowned.

Didn’t know we had one. Sorry.

She handed it back to Marisa with a shrug. “I don’t even know what he’s talking about.”

Marisa pulled a small bag from her purse. “I’ve got one dose each of zinc, Echinacea, vitamins C and D, and garlic. Want any of them?”

Savannah glanced at her water, then held out her hand. “I’ll take them all. Might as well.” She chewed down the Ricola, then swallowed the handful of capsules. The band reached the final chorus, and she quickly reapplied the lipstick Marisa offered her, then closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Adrenaline was kicking in, soothing the dull ache behind her eyes and chasing away the feeling of uneasiness that came with knowing her immune system was being hacked.

The song ended, and a moment later the lights dimmed and the opening video illuminated the screen behind the stage. Savannah closed her eyes again, centering herself and spending one last minute in prayer.
Just get me through the day, Lord. Keep my voice and body strong. I don’t care if I’m sick for the rest of the month, just keep me healthy today.

She stood and straightened the ruby red jacket of her pantsuit before climbing the stairs to the stage. The video ended, the audience burst into applause, and the lights came up, activating the performer in her. “Thank you, ladies,” she called out, waving and basking in the heat of the lights and the attention of five thousand women hanging on her every word, “and welcome to the last day of this summer’s Women of the Word conference.”

More applause, and her impending cold was forgotten. For the next forty minutes, Savannah was home.

S
HAUN TROVER RAN A HAND
through his hair and stared hard at the floor. “Think,” he muttered. “Come on, think.” He walked back to his den and pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk, the spot where the checkbook should be and where he had already looked three times. Still empty.
Of course it is. Come on, think.

He sat down and scrolled through his online calendar, looking for something that might remind him of the last check he’d written. And there it was. He closed his eyes, walking step by step through that afternoon.
The phone rang, just as I pulled it out of the drawer.
The sudden memory made him smile — finally, some hope.
I remember taking that message on the kitchen counter—

He’d brought the checkbook with him as he left the office to track down the cordless that was not on its base on his desk. He went back to the kitchen to look again.

“Hey, Dad.” Jessie jerked open the fridge.

Shaun jumped. “I thought you were at work.”

She smiled as she opened the orange juice. “I don’t leave for another five. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s alright. Hey—you haven’t seen a big leather binder, have you? About this big.” He held out his hands, indicating the size as he scanned the room again.

When Jessie nodded, relief was followed quickly by fear. She wouldn’t open it, would she?

“You have?”

“Yeah, I think so. It was here on the phone desk last week, on Mom’s study Bible. I put them both in her office.”

Shaun bounded upstairs. “Left-hand side of the credenza,” Jessie called after him. Shaun let out a shaky breath as he pulled out the binder from beneath the tattered Bible. He’d have to be more careful. This couldn’t happen again.

“Sorry about that,” Jessie said when he returned. “Is that for A&A? I thought you guys had an accountant now.”

“We do. But this isn’t for A&A; it’s for our personal account. I just don’t like those smaller checkbooks — too easy to lose.” They laughed at the irony and Shaun took the binder back to his office, locking it in its proper place before rejoining Jessie in the kitchen. “So Mom comes back tomorrow. I was thinking we could do a family dinner; you could bring Adam.”

Jessie’s face went dark. “No, thanks. Adam and I already have plans.”

“Come on, Jess. It’s your mother. She’s been gone for three weeks.”

“It’s not that different from when she’s here. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

Shaun offered a fatherly look, but Jessie returned it with a stony stare. He tried a different approach. “Maybe you two should do something together before classes start up. Take a road trip to Estes Park, maybe.”

Jessie let out a flat laugh. “We wouldn’t have enough to talk about to fill a fifteen-minute coffee break, much less a whole day. No, thanks.” She shifted on her feet and raised her eyes to Shaun’s. “But speaking of school, would you drive up with me when I move back and help me cart my stuff to my dorm room? It’ll go so much faster with two of us, and Adam and I are helping to throw the freshman dinner that night. It would be great to have it done before that.”

“Of course, Jess. As long as Mom doesn’t need—”

“Oh, right, unless Mom
needs
something.” She spun around and grabbed her keys from the counter. “I forgot she’s the center of the universe.”

Shaun winced when the door slammed shut. He should have known better than to try to throw them together like that. He just kept hoping things would change.
Not that they can when Savannah’s never here.
He shook his head and went back to his office, then groaned when he remembered why he’d been racing around the house in a panic ten minutes ago. He pulled out the checkbook binder and removed a smaller checkbook from the back, then opened his email, his gut clenching as he scanned the inbox for the letter. His hand shook as he wrote the check, and by the time the envelope was addressed his handwriting was chicken scratch. He pushed a stamp onto the corner and walked to the kitchen for his keys, then grabbed the shopping list from the counter. He’d go grocery shopping after stopping at the post office. At least he and Savannah would have a nice dinner.

J
ESSIE ROLLED THE WINDOWS DOWN
and cranked up the stereo. She sang along with the Brad Paisley tune, loudly and off key as usual, to try to cleanse her mind of the conversation with Shaun. When was her father ever going to learn?

At least school was starting soon. She missed seeing Adam every day, and having her friends around all the time. She’d miss seeing her dad so much, but at least they could meet for coffee halfway between A&A and campus now and then. She preferred that to being home and having to put up with Savannah’s paradoxical attention. How someone could appear to not care at all about what Jessie did while simultaneously criticizing every move she made was beyond her psych 101 education.

Jessie pounded a fist lightly on the steering wheel as guilt nagged her. She had a mother—that was more than a lot of people had. And, though annoying, her mother was relatively healthy on all levels — didn’t abuse or neglect her, was successful, and provided for her family. Jessie wished they could just get along.

She pulled into the parking lot of the strip mall and took a spot in the back row. After affixing her name tag to her shirt and brushing her wind-tangled hair, she took a deep breath and prayed her pre-work prayer.
Make me gracious and squelch my bias, God.

The bell above the door chimed as she entered the bookstore. She waved to her manager, Torrie, who was working the register, and walked back to the offices to stash her wallet and keys before taking her place on the floor. A cart of new arrivals stood outside the stockroom; she wheeled it to the fiction section and read the back of each one before placing them on the shelves. She loved that she had a job that required her to read. Fiction was her specialty, though her growing interest in child development had her perusing the parenting section these days as well. She’d thought about trying to write a book, even had some decent ideas, but she worried everyone would compare her to Savannah or think she was trying to ride her mother’s Sak’s Fifth Avenue coattails. That was the absolute last thing she’d ever want anyone to think about her.

“Hey, Jess — oh good, you’ve got the cart.” Torrie appeared at her side and slouched against the bookshelf. “There’s a couple boxes of returns in the stockroom, too.”

“Okay, I’ll do those next.”

“Do you know your schedule yet for next term? I’m going to start working out the shifts for the fall this week.”

“Oh, yeah, I’ll bring that tomorrow. I should be able to keep the same number of hours, though.”

“Good. Between you and Dagne we should be set then, assuming your availability doesn’t overlap too much.” Torrie pulled a book from the cart and read the back, then handed it to Jessie. “Did you see the numbers for last month’s sales? Your mom’s book went through the roof after her conference in Denver.”

“Oh, really?” Jessie clenched her teeth briefly as she pushed a book on the shelf. “Well, that’s good.”

“She’s such an inspiration. My parents aren’t believers, so I didn’t have much of a role model when I became a Christian.” Torrie sighed, looking wistful. “You’re so lucky.”

Live in my head for a day and see if you don’t change your mind. “Yeah, she’s really … helped a lot of people.”

“Is she back from the tour yet?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Know if she has any other books in the works?”

Jessie swallowed back a snarky comment. “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to her much this summer; she’s been gone so much.”

“Ah, true. Probably no time to write when she’s touring. Well, I hope she comes out with something soon—she’s great for business.” Torrie grinned, then pushed away from the bookshelf. “Gonna go work on the books. You’ve got the register.”

“Okay.” She watched Torrie disappear into the office and let out a deep breath. Nothing made her want to vent more than hearing other people paint her mother as some kind of hero. She could just hear people thinking, “And what are
you
going to do with
your
life?” Everyone’s expectations were so high—including Savannah’s. Jessie dreaded the day when they all realized she would never live up to them.

She finished stocking the books and began straightening the shelves. The front door chimed and she peeked around the bookshelf to greet the customer. “Welcome to Grace Notes,” she said. “Can I help you find anything?”

The young woman pushed her sunglasses up and held out a sticky note. “Um, yeah. I’m looking for this book—
A Jewel of a Woman
by Savannah Trover. I caught the title at the end of a radio show, but didn’t get to hear much about it. Would you recommend it?”

Jessie turned on her saleswoman smile and tried not to feel like a hypocrite. “Oh, definitely. Follow me. Savannah’s books are over here.” She led the woman to Savannah’s section of the Christian Living shelves, smile frozen to her face, her insides smoldering. She rattled off her sales pitch for the book, then left the customer to skim it on her own. A few minutes later she closed the sale, then went back to work on the cart of books. She may not be thrilled with the author, but she had to admit, the lady sure could sell books.