Holly's Heart Collection One (61 page)
Like some miracle, the soap trick worked. Slowly I eased my foot out of the tight opening. I wanted to dance for joy, but my foot was too sore. So I simply flushed the toilet.
Stan sat on the edge of the bathtub beside me as I unzipped my soaked boot. “I need an honest answer from you,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.
“Ask me anything.” I felt mighty giddy.
He scratched his blond head. “How did your foot land in the toilet, anyhow?”
I wasn’t about to reveal the reason for my afternoon’s adventure. Not in a zillion years! “My lips are sealed,” I said, patting his arm. “But thanks for the rescue, brousin.”
“No problem. Glad it was a success, little sister.” There it was again, Stan’s lousy John Wayne imitation. But it didn’t matter; it was fabulous having this conversation with my new stepbrother—the first decent one since the Patterson takeover.
Stan got up to leave. Suddenly he stopped and stared down at me. “Uh, Holly, are you really okay?”
“I think so, why?”
A very serious expression spread across his face. “You look a little
flushed,
that’s all.”
“Why, you!” I screamed and tried to stand up. When I did, I lost my balance and toppled into the tub onto the wet towel. I decided right then and there I’d never, ever wear perfumed toilet water, no matter
who
gave it to me.
While Stan put the door back on its hinges, I soaked my aching foot in the tub with Epsom salts and warm water. As for the boot, it was hopeless. If I worked at it, I might have enough baby-sitting money saved up to buy another pair in a couple of months.
Then I remembered Daddy’s long-distance phone call. Maybe the California Santa could bring me an exact duplicate on December twenty-fifth. I decided to call him back after supper. I wasn’t exactly sure how Mom would take it, but I knew it would be fun to spend the holidays in a sunny beach setting.
Drying my foot with a clean towel, I thought about the advantages of wave surfing at Christmas as opposed to what we usually did at home—snow skiing. Surfing in December would make great headlines for my diary.
Oh yeah…the diary key, the reason for my slide into the toilet. Glancing up at the cabinet above the toilet, I grinned. Perfect hiding place—even I couldn’t get to it.
When I was finished drying my foot, I closed the toilet lid. Gingerly, I stepped up and planted my feet firmly on top. Reaching up, I lifted the Christmas arrangement and felt for the diary key underneath it. I leaned up on my tiptoes, my left foot—still wearing the dry boot—supporting me as I groped for the key. If only I could see what I was doing.
Inch by inch, my right hand covered the entire area while my left hand held the arrangement. Where
was
it? I felt around again. And again. It was useless. The key to my life’s secrets had vanished!
I replaced the flower arrangement and did a one-footed hop off the toilet seat. I couldn’t decide which was worse, being stuck in the toilet or losing the key. The whole thing was a nightmare—the absolute worst.
Back in my room, I spotted a note stuck to my mirror. In Carrie’s handwriting it said,
I found your diary key in the bathroom yesterday. Here it is.
A tiny silver key was taped to the paper.
Wait till I get my hands on her,
I thought, ripping the key off the paper and dropping it into my pocket. Boiling with anger, I opened the closet door and reached for my bathrobe.
Back in the bathroom, I turned the shower on full blast. I was certain that Carrie had helped herself to the pages of my diary. It wasn’t the first time and probably wouldn’t be the last. Not unless I came up with a better hiding place.
Soaping up, I envisioned the packing process for my trip to California. Along with clothes—and as many mystery novels as I could squeeze in—I would take a locked overnight case full of diaries, past and present. It was the perfect hiding place; in fact, it might be the only answer to my super-snooper problem at the moment. Why wait till California when a crawl space could serve the same purpose? Carrie and Stephie would never think to look under the steps for diaries—stashed away in a suitcase.
I couldn’t wait to investigate the storage space under the family room steps. What genius!
After dressing, I went to my room to dry my hair. When someone knocked on the door, I switched the hair dryer off, ready to do battle for a little privacy. “If it’s Carrie or Stephie, stay out,” I called.
It was Stan. “Hey, you sound tough.”
I opened the door to see him grinning in the hallway. “Jared awaits,” he said, handing the portable phone to me.
I closed the door and snuggled into my four-poster bed. “Hi, Jared,” I said into the phone.
“How’s Holly-Heart?”
Jared’s smooth approach always took me off guard. I giggled a little.
“Will you be at church tomorrow?”
I ran my fingers through my still-damp hair. “We’re going to early service,” I told him.
“That’s cool—one less hour till I see you.”
I laughed. Jared was pouring on the charm. Again. He’d already won me over last month by passing my scrutiny test—after Danny Myers and I decided to be just friends.
“Talk normal, okay?” I said. Really, sometimes Jared was too much! “So what are you doing?” I asked, propping my sore foot on a throw pillow.
“Been thinking about Miss W’s latest writing assignment. How about you?”
“The research part is fun,” I said. “I’m doing my paper on the Sally Lightfoot crab. What’re you doing?”
Jared paused. I heard him flipping pages. “Ready for this?”
I sighed.
What is he up to now?
“Ever hear of the Goliath beetle of Nyassaland, Africa?” he asked seriously.
I couldn’t help it; I laughed. Hard.
“What’s so funny?” he said. “Don’t you like my choice of insect?”
“It’s fine,” I said. “It’s just, uh, I don’t know…”
“What?”
“It sounds biblical, I guess.”
“That’s why I picked it,” Jared insisted. “If there’s a beetle called Goliath, where’s that put David?”
I giggled so hard, I snorted. “You’re crazy.”
“Well, then, I think we’re a perfect pair
,
” he said.
I blushed. It was amazing, this transformation that had taken place in the past few months. Jared was totally different. He never flirted with other girls anymore.
“Holly? You still with me?” he asked. It was a double meaning.
Shyly I mumbled something about having to clean my room. I knew Mom and Uncle Jack wouldn’t want me to get carried away with talking to Jared. It would seem too exclusive.
“I’ll see you at church,” he said. “Bye.”
I said, “Good-bye, Jared,” like the whole world awaited my phone farewell. It felt good to have a guy friend who really listened to me for a change. And I couldn’t imagine a more thoughtful guy than Jared.
CALIFORNIA CRAZY
I began cleaning my third of the room. It was hopelessly messy with Stephie’s stuffed animals strewn everywhere and Carrie’s dirty clothes in a pile the size of Mount Everest. Well, almost. I stripped my bed and stuffed the sheets into a pillow slip. Then I heard Carrie and Stephie come in the front door downstairs.
Snatching the diary key out of my jeans pocket, I dashed down the steps, taking two at a time, even though my right foot still hurt a little from the toilet adventure.
I cornered the culprits in the living room. “You two better think long and hard about this,” I said, waving the key in their faces. “This is off limits to you, and you know it.”
Stephie’s eyes grew wide. “I didn’t do it,” she shrieked. “I’m too short to reach that high.”
Now I knew it was Stephie who’d spied on me. “You just gave yourself away, little rascal,” I said.
Then, turning to Carrie, I confronted her. “Stephie spies and you do the dirty work, is that it?”
Carrie stared at me in silence.
“You never used to do this stuff before Stephie moved in,” I persisted. “Are you gonna let a seven-year-old control your brain?”
Carrie put her hands on her hips. “I don’t have to listen to you, meanie,” she said haughtily.
I flipped my damp hair over my shoulder and sat down. “Just wait’ll Mom hears about your snooping. Now, sit down!”
Stephie folded her arms stubbornly. “Don’t tell us what to do.”
Still standing in the middle of the living room, Carrie snorted at me. Stephie mimicked Carrie’s hands-on-hips routine.
I wanted to strangle them both, but fortunately Mom and Uncle Jack arrived. They looked tired from shopping. Uncle Jack smoothed his wind-blown hair, then helped Mom out of her coat and hung it in the closet.
“Mommy…hi!” Carrie hugged her.
Uncle Jack scooped Stephie up in his arms. He eyed me sitting on the sofa. “Looks like Judgment Day,” he said, smiling at me.
I pointed to the girls. “And those are the accused.”
Mom touched her soft, blond waves and sat beside me. “
Now
what?”
My side of the story was scarcely out when Stephie interrupted. “She’s bossing us, Daddy. We can’t do anything right around here.”
“How about starting with a little respect for privacy?” I suggested.
I could tell Carrie knew where this conversation was headed. She started making jerky cut-throat signs with her pointer finger when Mom wasn’t watching. My sister would be in big trouble if I started to spell things out.
“This house is too crowded,” Stephie whined.
“Yeah,” Carrie piped up. “We need more room.”
“Your mother and I
have
discussed the possibility of adding on to the back of the house,” Uncle Jack said.
Mom looked at each of us. “What do you think, girls?”
“Fabulous!” I said.
“When can we start?” Carrie asked.
“Immediately, as far as I’m concerned,” Uncle Jack said, studying the Psalms calendar on the lamp table. “Let’s see, if we get going on it next week, we can make some good progress by Holly’s birthday. What do you say, hon?”
There wasn’t any question of money now that Uncle Jack was in the family. And with Mom continuing to work three days a week at the law firm doing paralegal work, there was probably plenty of extra money for things like this.
Mom nodded her head in agreement. I wanted to dance for joy. What a fabulous idea; I’d finally get my room back, along with my privacy!
Uncle Jack swung Stephie around. “The problem of overcrowding will be solved,” he announced with a hearty chuckle.
“Yeah, but what about until the addition is built?” I asked. “Can’t we make some stiffer laws for snoopers while the three of us are still stuck in the same room?”
“You bet we can,” Uncle Jack said with a twinkle in his eyes. “And these laws
will
be enforced.” He looked first at Carrie, then at Stephie as he made his point.
Yes! Finally I had the parental support I needed.
Mom pulled Carrie and Stephie over to her. “If either of you get into Holly’s personal things, including her diary, there will be no TV for you for a full week.”
“And double kitchen duty,” Uncle Jack added.
Carrie and Stephie groaned as Mom and Uncle Jack went upstairs.
This was so fabulous I couldn’t contain my excitement. I ran to the kitchen and ate a whole bowl of strawberry ice cream in nothing flat.
As I was finishing the last spoonful, Mom came downstairs and slid onto the bar stool next to me. “I understand your father called this morning.” It was more of a question than a statement. “Stan left a note upstairs in our bedroom with a list of calls,” she explained.
I sensed what was coming. She probably even suspected Dad- dy’s personal invitation. “Well, I couldn’t talk very long,” I said. “I told him I’d call back tonight, if that’s okay with you.”
I paused, unsure how she’d take this news. “Daddy invited Carrie and me for Christmas.” I avoided looking at her as I carried my ice-cream bowl to the sink. “What do you think?”
“As long as we have time to celebrate together here after you get back, it’s okay with me,” she said. “Besides, it might be the ideal time for you girls to go. Things could get chaotic with the extra rooms being built on to the back of the house.” She stretched her arms, yawning.
I leaned my elbows on the bar. “Do you want to talk to Carrie about this or should I?” I remembered the last time Carrie was scheduled to visit Daddy. Last summer. She’d backed out at the last minute, so I went without her.
“I’ll talk to her,” Mom said, going over to the freezer. She reached for a family-size package of hamburger meat and placed it on the counter to thaw. Everything around here came in large quantities these days.
I sneaked up and squeezed her around the waist. “Sure you’ll be all right spending Christmas alone with Uncle Jack and his kids?”
I giggled, knowing full well she’d have a fabulous time. Uncle Jack treated Mom like royalty. And even though everyone said they were in their honeymoon stage, I fully expected them to keep on being this happy. They were a perfect match. Uncle Jack and his hilarious humor, and Mom with her sweet qualities of kindness and patience. Made me want to be just like her, and maybe even marry a crazy guy like Uncle Jack someday.
As for Daddy, he was way too serious. Maybe I could get him to lighten up this Christmas. Besides that, maybe I could share with him the true reason for the season.
I headed downstairs to the crawl space to search for an overnight case. Suitcases of every size and shape were stashed back in the corner. Uncle Jack was a world traveler, and his collection of luggage proved it.
Blocking the path to the suitcases was a large box of Christmas wrapping paper and ribbons. Seeing it gave me an idea. Two weeks from now, before school let out for the holidays, I would present my gift to my secret pal. Last Sunday, the kids in our church youth group had drawn names. Mine was Paula Miller, but I’d traded with Billy Hill, who had Jared’s name and wanted a girl instead. He was thrilled to get Paula’s name from me.
I loved having Jared for my secret pal. It was so much fun to hide little notes and do special things when your secret pal was also your special guy friend, too.
I picked up one of the rolls of brightly colored wrap and decided to use it to decorate my gift for Jared. Now…what to buy for him?
