Holly's Heart Collection Three (42 page)
All through the following week, Stan was his non-adorable self, chewing me out whenever possible. Over the weirdest stuff, too.
For instance, Tuesday he came into my room, where I was folding some baby blankets in the crib. He scowled as he watched, then started to remind me that he was not, under any circumstances, going to feed, change, or burp Mom’s new baby.
“Hey, don’t tell me about it,” I said.
His face flushed red. “Holly, you’re taking things for granted about this baby—”
“Who isn’t even born yet,” I interrupted, studying him. “I can only hope that April doesn’t turn out to have any of your sinister qualities.”
He shook his head. “You’re grasping at straws.”
“Here, catch.” I threw a pink plastic baby bottle at him. “It’s high time you get the feel of things. Someday you’ll wish you knew how to do all this wonderful baby stuff—for your own son or daughter. Or, hey, here’s a concept: Maybe, just maybe, you’ll want to help your wife out. What about that?”
He snorted something that I didn’t quite catch. And really didn’t want to.
“You know, there’s nothing sissy at all about any of this,” I offered.
He scratched his head, like he was trying to figure me out. “I told you, Holly. It’s a girl thing.” And with that, he threw the bottle back at me and left the room.
Frustrated, I hurried to my door and closed it. Ah, peace at last. And time for another journal entry. Maybe, I thought, if I wrote down my frustrations, I’d feel better.
Tuesday, April 10: The oldest brousin is hopeless, as in completely gone. I’m referring to Stan, which comes as no surprise. When I look back over the pages of this secret diary, it’s obvious that the boy has dished out nothing but harassment ever since his father married my mother.
Now . . . on a lighter side. Mrs. Duncan told us today that she’ll have the outcome of the competition in two more days. Andie suspects that she already knows but is waiting till our principal returns from an administrative conference before announcing the news.
Anyway, between Mom’s bouts with sleepless nights (she really does think the baby might come early!) and the possibility of show choir going to Washington during spring break, I’m freaked out.
If only Stan would cool it with his ridiculous macho remarks!
IT’S A GIRL THING
Thursday, April 12: Things couldn’t be better! We’re flying to the nation’s capital in exactly eight days—the high-school show choir, that is.
Our chorus’s status has finally hit the papers, and there was an exclusive interview with Mrs. Duncan on the Dressel Hills evening news.
My friends can hardly believe we’re going, especially Paula and Kayla, who have relatives in Pennsylvania. Paula’s going to ask Mrs. Duncan tomorrow about getting them in to see us sing.
My family? Now, that’s a problem. Mom’s so sure that the baby is coming early. And Uncle Jack wants to talk to me tonight after supper. Shoot, I can almost imagine what he’s going to say. I only hope the baby arrives before I leave!
To round off the fabulous things in my life, a long email came from Sean today. He’s planning to attend college days at George Washington University, which isn’t far from the location of our competition. (I looked it up on the Internet.) Of course, he has no idea I’m going to be there that same weekend, but I’m sure he’ll want to know. So . . . one email-writing session coming up!
After the supper dishes were cleared away and loaded in the dishwasher, Uncle Jack sat me down in the living room. Mom had already gone upstairs to get off her feet, which seemed to be swelling, my stepdad informed me.
Stan was out with some friends, and the rest of my siblings were either tending to homework or waiting for family devotions to begin.
“I think we need to talk,” Uncle Jack began softly. His wavy brown hair looked disheveled from the long day, and a fiveo’clock shadow stubbled his chin. “Your mother and I are thrilled for you about the high-school choir competitions back East. There’s only one little hitch.”
Here it comes,
I thought.
“If the baby comes early, we’re going to need you here, Holly.”
Mom had already said the same thing, in so many words. But hearing it from Uncle Jack made it sound terribly final.
“The choir’s flying out a week from tomorrow,” I told him.
The school board had decided to pitch in half of each plane ticket. The rest had come from past parent-teacher association fund-raisers.
Uncle Jack glanced at the calendar on the lamp table near the couch. “Let’s see, that’s Friday, April 20?”
I nodded. The baby was due exactly five days later, on April 25.
Uncle Jack scrunched his lips. “That’s cutting it close.”
“I’m really praying about this,” I volunteered, “so if it’s okay with you, let’s not plan for the worst.”
He chuckled good-naturedly, and I felt the heaviness lift.
Soon he was calling for the rest of the family, and instead of having devotions in the living room, we gathered in the master bedroom upstairs. That way, Mom’s swollen feet and ankles could be elevated, and she could relax.
I listened to the Scripture reading but couldn’t keep my mind on the story that followed. I was too deep in thought, pondering how incredible it was going to be to sing and compete against America’s best ensemble groups.
Remembering Miss Hess, my choral director from junior high, I wondered how she must be feeling about the news. Surely it was a direct result of her careful training that the choir was at this present level of excellence. I decided to stop by the junior high after school tomorrow and pay her a visit.
After our prayers Mom let Carrie and Stephie talk to the baby sister in her stomach. I hurried off to my room to send a note to Sean.
Andie called in the middle of my note. Evidently Stan had arrived home, picking up the phone on the first ring. He shouted up the stairs to me, his voice sounding polite in spite of the volume, probably because Uncle Jack was sitting nearby.
I took the hall phone. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Hey.” Andie paused. “What’s Stan doing home?”
“He lives here.” I giggled.
“I know that, silly. But I thought you said he was going out with friends.”
“They must be done doing whatever it was they did.”
We both burst into laughter.
“Seriously,” she said, “I was wondering if Stan’s read that book on praying for God’s choice in a mate.”
“Oh . . . I get it.”
“No, it’s not what you’re thinking,” she insisted.
“You mean you don’t still like my stepbrother?”
“C’mon, Holly. You should know what I mean. After reading that book and all.”
“So where’s the book now?”
“Paula returned it to the church library. But if you’re so desperate to finish it, why don’t you just buy it?” I suggested. “The Christian bookstore has it, as well as others like it.”
“Great idea. I’ll check things out tomorrow after school.”
“Okay, but I was hoping you’d come along with me to visit Miss Hess.”
“Should I see if Paula and Kayla want to go, too?”
“Perfect.” So it was set—we were going to stop by and visit our old stomping grounds. And a favorite teacher.
However, not once during the course of our phone chat did I bring up my conversation with my stepdad. No sense having Andie worry about something that most likely wouldn’t happen anyway.
IT’S A GIRL THING
The following Monday, Sean Hamilton called long-distance. “We could meet somewhere in D.C. and have lunch.” He sounded very excited.
“How long will you be there?” I asked.
“Three days . . . my plane leaves for home early Tuesday morning. You?”
“We’re leaving this Friday and coming back next Wednesday.’
“Great! We should be able to squeeze in some time on Monday to tour the monuments or see the Smithsonian. Okay with you?”
“Well, I think our director is scheduling a tour for the whole choir on Monday,” I replied. “Maybe it would work out for you to join us.”
Sean didn’t hesitate. “That’d be fine.” He went on to give me a cell phone number where he could be reached, and I gave him mine and the hotel number where the choir was staying.
“This’ll be really terrific, Holly,” he said. “I’m looking forward to seeing you again.”
I could almost see Sean’s face. His voice sounded like he was really happy. So was I!
The visit back to the former junior-high building the next day brought with it nostalgic feelings. Andie got it started. She talked about the day the ambulance came and took Jared Wilkins away after a mishap on the ropes during timed tests in PE. Then, one after another, Paula, Kayla, and I began to recount the events of our two years in those halls of ivy.
“Does everyone remember when Danny Myers had a big crush on Holly?” Andie asked, looking at Paula and Kayla.
“I think he still does,” Paula said. She fluffed her hair and grinned at me.
“Crushes come and go,” I said. “But true love, now, that’s what I want!”
“Remember, the most important thing is to remain simply good friends until God brings along the right person.” Kayla was sounding like a quote from the book.
“But how will we know when our future husband shows up?” Andie asked, glancing at me.
“The book says to be in prayer about it, asking God to show you—to make it very clear—and the timing will be perfect, too.”
“Man, it’s hard to picture it happening like that when we’ve been programmed so differently,” Kayla commented. “I mean, the media plays up dating and sex as though they’re the things to do. But I know not everyone conducts their life that way.”
Andie agreed. “It’s like Hollywood and the music scene is trying to brainwash us into believing a lie.”
By the time we arrived upstairs in Miss Hess’s cozy choir room, we were all completely sold on the book’s approach to romance—God’s way.
“Well, hello there, girls,” Miss Hess said, looking up from her desk. “What brings you here?”
“Haven’t you heard the news?” Andie asked, her dark eyes shining.
“I certainly have,” our former choir director replied. “I’ve been following the competition results very closely. You know, Mrs. Duncan and I are good friends.”
“Cool,” I said. “Do you and Mrs. Duncan confer with each other about music?”
She got up and went to the piano, leaning on the back of it the way she always used to. “You may not know this, but Mrs. Duncan and I worked out some of the scores for
The Sound of Music
together last year.”
“You did?” I cherished this comfortable link back to seventh-and eighth-grade days. “Are you doing another musical this year?”
“I guess you could call it that. We’re doing a Victorian melodrama complete with heroine, hero, and a wicked villain. It’s written by our own school librarian, and right now I’m putting the final touches on the olio, which is a collection of musical performances following the actual drama.”
“Wow, can we see what you’re doing?” I inched toward the desk. It was the same desk I’d snooped at last year, when I was too impatient to wait for the posted list of students who had been cast in
The Sound of Music.
Miss Hess, her clothes as stylish and colorful as ever, agreed to show us her work. “We really have quite a strong orchestra this year,” she pointed out, showing us the various orchestral scores she’d handwritten.
“Whoa, this looks awesome,” Andie commented.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “When’s the show?”
“May 10 and 11 . . . we’re presenting it two consecutive nights.”
“Same as last year,” I said, fond memories flying back.
“Ah, the good old days,” Andie teased, putting her arm around me. “I think Holly misses the spotlight.”
We laughed and talked for a while longer; then I got brave and asked Miss Hess if she knew anything about Mr. Barnett, her student teacher from last year.
“Oh yes, I certainly do.” She said it as though he were a special friend. “Mr. Barnett is a high-school drama coach in St. Paul, Minnesota.”
“Really?” Just hearing her mention his name brought all the crazy, crushy days zooming back.
