DECEMBER 1933

When the search for Annie's parents turned long, arduous, and, for Annie, torturous, Oliver and Grace decided to try and elevate things, by using Oliver's name and connections for a hint. With his level of fame, he easily could've put her story on the front page of all newspapers sweeping the nation in ten minutes flat—however, though this was Grace's suggestion, he felt it better to go a different route, at least at first. He wasn't sure how it had happened, or what to do with it, but over the past several days, he'd developed a sort of protectiveness over Annie, the girl reminding him so much of himself. The grit was there, the determination, the spirit that could only rise from more or less having to raise herself. Of course, he also saw Eliza—the way she so easily got hurt, though she tried her hardest not to let it show. Yes, he'd come to care deeply for her, and that meant newspapers were not the way, not at first. If they printed articles, they would want to print photographs—and he wasn't sure he wanted her that much in the public eye.

The Oxydent Hour of Smiles, however, was a different story. A radio program, one of America's most famous, would be the exact right balance between exposure, but not too much. They could get Annie's story out there, but ensure she was safe at the same time—and the girl absolutely ate up the idea.

"Can you believe it?" Annie almost shouted over dinner after Oliver had told her about grabbing the slot for the next evening's show. Standing up, all the way, she shook her head, glancing at Molly and Hannah. "We're going to be in everyone's living room! Us! People are going to turn on their radios and hear my voice." She gasped. "Oh, my gosh! What if my mom and dad hear? Can you believe that?" she turned to Oliver. "They could be counting their money right as the program comes on, trying to see if they have enough this week, and then, bam. Me! They'll hear me! My voice!"

Oliver chuckled a little. "That very well may be the case," he agreed, nodding. "If not your parents themselves, this is a surefire bet, I'm almost positive of it. The Oxydent Hour reaches over half of America, nightly. Surely, someone who knew your parents will be able to reach out to us."

"The show is tomorrow night?" Hannah asked, setting her fork down. Oliver turned to glance at her.

"That's the good thing about all my connections," he replied. "The news stations work fast when I want to work with them, because they know far better than to delay any."

"Golly…" she whispered, and Grace frowned as she noticed the girl's face cloud.

"Are you alright, dear?" she asked.

"Oh, just tired," Hannah shook her head. She cleared her throat. "May I be excused? I just…" she glanced to Molly. "We were up late reading Alice's Adventures in Wonderland again," she said. "I must be sleepy, that's all."

"You're not hungry anymore?" Grace asked, and Hannah shook her head a second time.

"I'm real sorry for letting all the food go to waste," she replied. "I'm just… tired."

"You don't have to apologize," Grace shook her head. "Go on, I can clear your plate for you. Annie and Molly will be up soon, I'm sure."

Hannah didn't need to be told twice, it seemed. In an instant, she'd disappeared, and Annie frowned.

"What's her problem?" she asked. When nobody seemed to have an answer, she simply went back to chatting about the Oxydent Hour, while Molly glanced up at the staircase, a pit of worry growing in her stomach. Tomorrow meant something to Hannah, she was pretty sure—but what exactly was it?

…

DECEMBER 1926

Hannah's first year in the orphanage passed by almost before the girl could make heads or tails of all that came with being an orphan. There were certain things that absolutely just didn't make sense about Miss Hannigan's rule. Why did they always have to tell her they loved her? Then, the thing she told them, continually: never tell a lie. Did she think they actually did love her? The mush was gross, the beds were lumpy, but for the most part, she'd learned not to whine about any of it. And, at the very least, she had Annie by her side. In a short time, they'd become partners in crime, playing pranks on Miss Hannigan whenever she seemed in an okay-enough mood to deal with such tricks. Today, though, something felt different—and Hannah couldn't quite put her finger on what. She and Annie were learning how to sew from one of the older girls, which was exciting. Snow was falling outside, and it was really pretty. As far as days in the orphanage went, this one wasn't bad.

But then, it set in, and she wasn't quite sure how.

Her mommy and daddy… she was thinking of them a lot this morning.

"What's this number right here mean?"

Hannah all but marched up to one of the older girls, Mary-Jane, as she was finishing up with making her bed. Clutched in her hands was a piece of paper she'd come to the orphanage with—she wasn't sure of the significance of it, but her parents' names were on it, which told her it was important in some way. Mary-Jane scowled.

"Is your bed made?" she snapped. "We're not missing breakfast 'cause of you again, runt."

"What's this number mean?" Hannah repeated, pointing to a spot on the paper. She could make out the word December, and the number 17, and she knew that was the month they were in now because Christmas was coming up. Mary-Jane examined the paper.

"That's the day your parents died," she sneered, shaking her head. "This is a death certificate."

"When did they die?"

Mary-Jane sighed. "Today, a year ago. Is that why you're bugging me so much?"

Hannah just frowned, not sure what to make of this information. Obviously, some part of her had known today was important—but this type of importance was hard to grapple with. Instead of answering Mary-Jane, she crossed back to where her and Annie's beds were. Upon taking in her friend's face, Annie frowned.

"Are you okay?" she asked, and Hannah sat down.

"My mommy and daddy died a year ago today," she whispered. Blinking, tears welled in her eyes. "I didn't know you could ever miss someone so much, Annie. I want to hug Mama one more time, so badly."

Annie gaped at her, then sat next to Hannah. "What do you remember about your mama?" she asked, softly. Hannah smiled a little.

"She had really long hair," she whispered. "She liked to braid it, and Daddy always said it was a waste to have it so long if she was going to hide it all the time. She played piano. She'd sing to me at night," her eyes shut. "I can hear her voice, almost."

"She sounds really nice."

"She was the best, Annie," Hannah wiped at her face. "I don't like thinkin' about her, though. It makes me so sad." She glanced down. "I dunno why I had to go ask Mary-Jane about the number. I don't wanna think about Mama, not anymore."

Annie kicked her foot against Hannah's. "We can go scare Miss Hannigan," she said, and Hannah laughed a little.

"You're going to help me, whenever I don't wanna think about sad things," she looked at her friend pointedly. "Please. You've always gotta find something for us to do to Miss Hannigan."

"Okay," Annie said simply, and Hannah leaned over, hugging her.

And every year on the anniversary of her parents' death from there on out, it was unofficially a 'prank day', across the entire orphanage.

…

DECEMBER 1933

Hannah sat on the edge of the bed she'd been sharing with Annie and Molly, examining the death certificate as she did. Like Annie, she carried the paper with her everywhere she went—unlike Annie, the words on it filled her with nothing but despair. The more years that passed by, the more faded her memories became. She could still remember that her mother had had long hair, but what the songs she sang at bedtime were, she had no idea of, anymore. Were her eyes blue or green? Was she tall? She was fading, slipping by without Hannah even truly getting a chance to realize it, and this search for Annie's parents was proving far more difficult than she'd anticipated. Of course, she wanted to see her friend's dream come true. But the fact that she still had a chance to know the woman who'd given birth to her, it made her jealous in a way words really couldn't describe. And she was sad, knowing Annie had all but forgotten what tomorrow was.

For the first time in years, she'd have no distractions from the night of that fateful accident.

For the first time in years, she'd think about her mother, and she just couldn't handle as much.

She hadn't even realized it, when the door to the room pushed open, but when Molly appeared in her line of vision, she glanced up and gave a sad smile. Molly hopped up onto the bed next to her.

"Did Annie forget somethin' important?" she asked. Hannah sniffled, wiping at her face.

"My mom and dad…" she sighed. "The anniversary of them being gone is tomorrow."

Molly shook her head. "You should talk to Mr. Warbucks. Tell him you don't want Annie to do the Oxydent Hour no more."

"I can't do that to Annie," she whispered. "She deserves to find her mom and dad."

"You don't like talking about your mama. Right?"

"I don't remember her anymore," Hannah whispered. "I can't remember anything about her. She had long hair, but that's it."

Molly's eyes grew downcast. "Am I gonna forget my mama?"

Hannah sniffled. "I hope not. What do you remember about her most right now? If you tell me, you can't forget, because I'll remember it for you."

Molly bit down on her lip. "She told my daddy all the time how much she loved him—more than the sun, the moon, and the stars. And she called me her princess."

Hannah smiled a little. "She sounded really lovely."

"I don't wanna forget that," Molly sniffled a little herself, and Hannah wiped at the younger girl's face with her sleeve, like she imagined a mother would.

"You won't, not ever, not if I have anything to do with it," she said. "I'll keep your memories of your mom, real safe in my heart. Okay?"

Molly gave a small smile, hugging Hannah, just as a knock sounded on the door. This time, Grace appeared, and Hannah glanced down quickly.

"I have a feeling you're not just tired," Grace said, gently, and Hannah sniffled, shaking her head.

"I'm… okay," she whispered, and Grace sat down, raising an eyebrow.

"That's what everyone says when they're not really."

"I'm just thinking about my mom," Hannah bit down on her lip, holding out the death certificate. "I… I want Annie to find hers, really badly. But I just…"

"We're doing the Oxydent Hour tomorrow," Grace finished, sighing as she examined the paper, shaking her head. "I'm so sorry, sweetheart. Mr. Warbucks and I had no idea."

"Of course you didn't," Hannah whispered. "It's not like I ever told you."

"I can ask Mr. Warbucks to reschedule if—"

"No!" Hannah all but shouted. "No," she then repeated, a little softer. "Annie deserves to find her parents as quickly as she can. I'm just… she usually tries to help me not think about it, 'cause it's not easy for me to think about my mom. But she forgot, this year. And I don't blame her, but—"

"But you wish she'd have maybe just remembered a little."

Hannah nodded a little.

"Irene," Grace read off the certificate. "Your mother had such a beautiful name. Is she buried here, do you know?"

"Oh," Hannah shook her head a little. "I… I dunno. I was really young when she died. I don't… I don't know, nobody's ever told me."

"Maybe I can do some research tonight," Grace suggested. "I'm sure I can figure out if your parents are buried in New York, and, if so, where. Maybe if they're close enough, you and me can make a trip to see them tomorrow while Mr. Warbucks, Annie, and Molly go to the Oxydent Hour. Would that be something you're interested in?"

"Oh…" Hannah hesitated. "I'm not… that's so… that's too much, Miss Farrell."

"Absolutely, it is not," Grace smiled at her, kindly. "When the anniversary of my mother's death comes around, I always take the day off work. Her grave isn't easily accessible to me, but that doesn't mean I don't honor her in my own way. The few times I have sat at her grave, it's felt more cathartic than I think I have the words for."

She hesitated again. "Are you… sure?"

"Positive, dear. Everyone should be allowed to have the space they need to grieve for their parents," she placed a hand on Hannah's shoulder. "I'll do my best research tonight, and into the morning, if I have to. And I am so very sorry to know how difficult a day tomorrow is for you."

Hannah swallowed a little. "Nobody's ever told me that before."

"Then, I'm doubly sorry to hear that," Grace's eyes softened, before she stood up, patting the covers atop the bed. "Come on, how about I get you two settled for bed? Annie is downstairs, she's drinking some hot chocolate in the kitchen right now, but she should be up shortly after that. Or, if you two are interested in a hot chocolate?"

"No, ma'am," Hannah shook her head, and then paused. "You're really going to… help us get settled?"

"Of course, dear," Grace chuckled. "Come on, sometimes we all need a kind face to help us unwind at the end of a long day."

The very notion was something that surprised the girl, quite a bit. Up to now Miss Farrell had been kind, sure, but tucking her into bed? And offering to bring her to her parents' grave? She wasn't quite sure what to make of that, but she wasn't about to question it at this exact moment. Instead, she and Molly both got up, walking to the side of the bed where Grace had turned their covers down for them. As both girls climbed beneath them, Grace covered them, the same kind look in her eyes as before as she did.

"I hope the two of you have sweet dreams," she whispered, kissing each of them atop their heads. "Goodnight, girls. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Miss Farrell," Molly whispered back, eyes quickly drooping. Hannah, meanwhile, stared at Grace for a moment, before reaching out just as she was about to leave, grabbing onto her wrist.

"Is everything alright?" Grace asked.

"Thank you," Hannah whispered. "You're the nicest adult I've ever met."

Grace smiled. "Of course, darling. I'll see you in the morning, alright?"

Hannah only nodded, before turning onto her side. And as Grace left, she stared up at the ceiling, feeling so strangely like her mother was with her again—for the first time in years. Miss Farrell reminded her of her. It was the mannerisms. The gentle voice she spoke with.

She could see some of her mom in Miss Farrell, and that made her never want to leave this mansion, ever.

It almost devastated her, knowing one day she'd have to.

As it turned out, Grace had little to no trouble finding where Hannah's parents had been buried—and thankfully, they were, indeed, still in the city. It was a small cemetery, just past Midtown—Grace imagined she'd passed it dozens of times before now. As Oliver and Annie headed to the Oxydent Hour, however, Molly in tow because Grace was fairly sure this was a moment Hannah needed to have privately, the two found themselves walking up a tiny hill to the gravestones marking Irene and David Miller's last resting place. At first, Hannah was hesitant approaching it, as though not sure what to expect from being there—then, the closer she got to them, the more she eased, although tears were very prominently in her eyes. Sitting on the grass, staring at the markers, she shook her head, letting them drip quickly.

"I don't remember almost anything about my dad," she whispered after a moment, looking to Grace. "He… he worked a lot. He worked in a factory. I only ever saw my mom every single day, he was just… busy."

Grace gave a sad smile. "How about you tell me what you do remember?"

"He loved Mama a lot," Hannah nodded. "Always kissed her hello and goodbye. And he gave the best hugs. Really big hugs. Bear hugs, Mama called them."

Grace chuckled. "Anything else?"

"He liked to go dancing with her. They would go out whenever they could. He was a good dancer." She shut her eyes. "I think he had a mustache."

Grace smiled. "See? You remember more than you thought you did."

"Does it ever… stop hurting so much?" Hannah looked up. "How long ago did you lose your mom? Do you still miss her as much as you did at first?"

"Miss? Absolutely." Grace nodded. "Does it hurt as much, though? I wouldn't say so, not necessarily. The thing with grief, for me, anyways, is it ebbs and flows. Sometimes, it feels fresh, like she left just yesterday. Other times, it's easier to remember her. I may smile when I say her name, I may laugh at a story about something funny she did. It just… depends."

"I wish I could talk to her, just one more time," Hannah glanced back to the gravestones. "And him. I… I miss them a lot. And I never really thought about that, in the orphanage. I didn't let myself, it was too… much."

"I'm sure," Grace whispered, softly.

"How long can we stay here?" Hannah looked up at her. "Do we have to be back at any specific time?"

"No, we don't," Grace gave her a kind smile. Then, she reached into a small basket she'd brought with her. "I once had a picnic, when I went to sit at my mom's grave. It's not quite warm enough to stay here that long, but I did pack us both a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in case you were hungry."

Hannah stared at her, and then smiled, taking the sandwich. Taking a small bite, looking again at the gravestones, she shut her eyes, trying to bring up more memories, think of anything relating to her parents she possibly could. And it surprised her—the longer she focused, the more she could remember. They weren't gone, not really. Fuzzy, sure, but totally evaporated, not at all.

It was the first time since they'd passed that she'd felt a real, actual connection to them. And she was so endlessly thankful to Miss Farrell for letting her tap into that.

It was a silly thought, maybe, especially with the ongoing search for Annie's parents. But right now, at this moment, if she had to live the rest of her life without her mother, the only other person she wanted to take her place was Miss Farrell.

How she wished that could actually happen.