Holly's Heart Collection Three (45 page)
Carrie caught it on the first half of the ring. “Meredith-Patterson funny farm,” I heard her say from the kitchen.
“Carrie!” I reprimanded, only to witness a stream of giggles. My sister was definitely puberty-bound.
“It’s for you,” she called.
“Who is it?”
“Andie—she needs you.” She peeked around the corner of the dining room, making a smirk.
I washed and dried my greasy hands. “I’ll get it out here,” I informed her and picked up the portable phone.
“How’s kitchen duty?” Andie joked when I answered.
“Very funny.”
“Any news?”
“About?”
“You know . . .” She was too eager for an affirmative answer.
“Well, for starters, Stan’s in his room and Uncle Jack’s not home yet, so there’s nothing new.”
“I suggest you do your laundry and start packing, just in case,” she advised. “You never know what might happen.”
“I can just imagine what might happen. The house could burn down and everyone will go hungry if Stan’s in charge. You know, I’m actually starting to think maybe I should just stay put.”
“Holly! How can you say that?”
I went to the archway between the kitchen and the dining room and poked my head in, scouring for snoopers. And sure enough, Carrie was sitting, knees squashed up to her chin, under the table—eyes wide.
“Excuse me a sec, Andie,” I said, making a big deal about this even though I wasn’t really that upset. I figured I ought to set a precedent since I was the only one in charge at the moment. I covered the receiver with my hand. “Carrie Meredith—out of there!”
“You sound like a mean mommy,” she wailed.
“And I’ll be dishing out extra chores like some moms do, too, if you don’t watch your mouth.”
“I’m sorry,” she sputtered.
“I could use some help in the kitchen,” I told her. “But give me five minutes.”
She nodded compliantly and headed upstairs.
“Andie,” I said, returning to the phone. “Okay, now I can talk. Where were we? Oh yes . . . about packing and stuff.”
“Why not?” she insisted. “Remember, Sean’s expecting to see you.”
She didn’t have to remind me. “Which brings me to something,’ I added. “I want you to give him a message for me—you know, explain why I couldn’t come.”
“So . . . you’re giving up. Well, I’m not interested in passing along secondhand information,” she said. “You’re going to the choir competitions, and that’s final!”
“Please, Andie, you’re blowing this out of proportion,” I said.
“It’s not that I don’t want to go; I do. But what would you do if you were me?”
“It wouldn’t be easy, that’s for sure. But like I said at school, now that your mom’s had her baby, why can’t your stepdad help out?”
I shrugged. Did I dare ask him?
“Please just think about it?” she pleaded.
“Well, if he doesn’t come home too tired, maybe I will.”
“Too tired?” Andie was beside herself. “You can’t just let this go. Maybe I should come over there.”
“Not a good idea.”
So, once again, I thought things were settled. At least about what step I should take next, which was pretty much zilch.
I never even heard Uncle Jack come home.
By the time I fussed and fought with Carrie, and later with Stan, who couldn’t spare some time to take us to the hospital to see the baby, I was exhausted. And feeling blue.
I had a very suspicious feeling that Stan was actually putting off seeing our new sister. For some strange—probably macho— reason.
Mark and Phil were much easier to handle than the girls, and when I told them to clean up their rooms after supper and do their homework, they did it. I was shocked.
Fortunately, I had less homework than usual. I headed for my room and started working, only to find that I kept falling asleep at my desk.
When I looked at the clock, it was midnight.
Oh no,
I thought.
I’ve completely lost my chance!
And sure enough, when I tiptoed down the hall to see if Uncle Jack was home, I spotted his bathrobe lying at the foot of the bed. And, listening for a moment, I heard snoring.
Uncle Jack was home . . . and I’d totally missed him!
Sad and desperate, I headed downstairs for some milk and cookies. The burden of responsibility had already begun to lessen somewhat, just having an adult back in the house, especially at night. But knowing what I was about to miss made me angry.
There was plenty of milk in the fridge—a whole gallon. I reached for it, thankful for a man like Uncle Jack in our lives. Even without a grocery list, he’d taken it upon himself to remember a few of the basic food groups consumed in this household.
Slowly, I poured a glass of milk.
Glancing down, I noticed Goofey. “Did you come to keep a lonely girl company?” I picked him up.
He purred, eyeing my glass. “All right,” I said, putting him down and getting his bowl. “If I’m up, you have to be up, too . . . is that it?”
Goofey meowed.
Then I heard a sound in the dining room and turned to see Uncle Jack coming toward the kitchen. “What’s this? A midnight snack?” He grinned. “Mind if I join you?”
“Okay.”
He sat on a barstool and leaned forward on his elbows. “Guess I should’ve wakened you earlier.”
“That’s fine,” I said, glad to have this opportunity, at least. “I think I was probably wiped out.”
“It certainly looked that way to me. And I must say, not a very good way for a young lady to start out on an important trip.”
I turned away from the cookie jar and stared at him. I’d scarcely been listening at this point, thinking he was just coming downstairs to chitchat or have a snack. But this—what had he just said?
“I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” I held my breath.
“I’ve got you covered, Holly-Heart,” he said with a broad grin. “You’re going to Washington, D.C.”
I ran to him, and stifling a shriek of joy, I hugged the daylights out of him.
“Now, then, do you need some help getting ready?” he asked.
“I’ll just do a quick load of laundry, if that’s all right.” I was fully awake, adrenaline rushing through my veins!
He nodded his approval.
“Oh, thank you, Uncle Jack,” I said again. “I hope this isn’t going to be a hardship on you. Or Mom.”
“Not at all. And Stan’s going to have a golden opportunity to learn firsthand what family life’s all about.”
“Stan?” I gulped. “He’s going to be in charge?”
“Not totally. But he’ll be in training of sorts, that’s for certain.’
“In training?”
“Yes, Mrs. Hibbard has agreed to oversee things before and after school till I can get home from work.”
I laughed out loud. “Our next-door neighbor? You’re kidding! Does Stan know about this?”
“He knows, and he’ll have to live with it.”
I chuckled, heading upstairs to think through the items of clothing and things I needed for my trip. Mrs. Hibbard, the pickiest little old lady in Dressel Hills, was going to whip Stan Patterson into shape!
Was this poetic justice or what?
IT’S A GIRL THING
I had only one regret about leaving my family behind: not getting to lay eyes on my baby sister before I left.
Mrs. Duncan was overjoyed about my coming. So was Andie. And if I’m not too presumptuous to say so, I think Jared looked very pleased, too.
I, however, could hardly contain myself as we filed into the coach section of the airplane. “You’ll never believe what I was doing at one o’clock this morning,” I said, settling into the aisle seat next to Andie.
“Dirty laundry?” She laughed. “I told you, and you didn’t listen!”
“Well, for once, you were right.” I stuffed my carry-on bag beneath the seat directly in front of me, still wiggling with excitement, not to mention the effects of several glasses of soda.
Uncle Jack would surely have freaked if he’d known what I’d had to drink for breakfast. But adrenaline doesn’t last forever, and when you’ve had only a few hours’ sleep, well . . .
The shuttle flight to Denver lasted about forty minutes, and then all of us experienced the fun of finding our way—while trying to stay together—through the maze of security checks, concourses, and underground shuttles at Denver International Airport.
But soon we were seated in the waiting area, ready for the Boeing 737 to fly us to Chicago. There, we’d be changing planes again.
“What will you do when you see Sean?” asked Andie right out of the blue.
“Run up to him, throw my arms around him, and give him a big pucker.” I chuckled sarcastically. “What do you think I’ll do, silly?”
“Hey, I’m serious.”
“So am I.” We giggled about it, and when we’d calmed down a bit, I told her that I was actually feeling awkward about meeting Sean again, especially with the whole choir hanging around.
“Aw, it’s nothing, right? You’re just friends.”
I shook my head at her. She had me good.
“So . . . I’m right, there is more to the Sean Hamilton-Holly Meredith story.”
“Not really.”
“Uh-huh.” And she rolled her eyes at me.
Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport was bustling with people coming and going, and although we didn’t have to rush off to catch our connecting flight, I could see that it was difficult for Mrs. Duncan and the three adult sponsors to keep track of us. We were like sheep being herded—all twenty-five of us.
But even as we waited to go down the escalator, I couldn’t help thinking about my new sister back home.
Shoot, I hadn’t even had a chance to say “thanks” to Mom before I left. And I was pretty sure she had been responsible for my getting to go at the last minute. I decided to call her once we were settled in the hotel.
One by one we stepped onto the moving walkway in the underground level of the connection terminal, surrounded by some very cool neon and strobe lights.
“What do you think, Holly?” Jared called back to me. “Check out what you would’ve missed.”
“It’s fabulous,” I replied, watching a chartreuse-orange design blink off the wall.
“Sure is!” Andie poked my back.
Paula crowded in from behind. “Who does your baby sister look like?”
“Uncle Jack says she’s a charmer, but since I haven’t seen her yet, I really don’t know.”
“You haven’t seen her?” Kayla said, all aghast. “Why not?”
“It’s a long story,” I explained, “beginning with
S
and ending with
N
.”
That’s all that needed to be said. She figured it out, especially with Andie’s help—who turned around, mouthing nasties about Stan.
“Well, I guess you
are
lucky to be here,” Paula said.
“Considering everything, yeah,” I replied.
That night I wrote in my journal.
Friday, April 19: I can’t believe it! Several times during the flight I pinched myself to make sure it wasn’t just a glorious dream.
We’re staying in this magnificent, old, historic hotel.
(We’re getting a special rate because there are so many of us.) From the penthouse, Andie, Paula, Kayla, and I checked out the Mall in the distance—what a view! It’s not a shopping mall, though. It’s a park—a wide, grassy carpet two miles long, running between the Washington Monument and Capitol Hill.
