Holly's Heart Collection Three (47 page)
Sooner or later.
IT’S A GIRL THING
Sunday morning our choir performed a couple of sacred numbers at two different churches in the downtown area. Most of the regional finalists had been scheduled to do the same around town.
One of the locations turned out to be where the president and first lady attended church. Man, did we go through major security rigamarole before entering! But it was definitely worth it to look out into the crowd and see their familiar faces.
Later, after lunch, we sat in on several more performances at the Kennedy Center. Relaxing there beneath one of the dazzling chandeliers, I honestly wondered how the judges could ever begin to choose a winner. Every group sounded fantastic.
Andie, however, was partial to the ensembles with piano accompaniment. Personally, I liked a cappella better. Maybe because there was something almost ethereal about the sound of pure, unaccompanied voices. Anyway, sitting out in the spectacular auditorium sent shivers up my spine. And it whet my appetite for tonight’s dinner-theater entertainment to come.
Somehow, Jared landed a seat next to me at the table that evening. I was glad, though. This was the perfect opportunity to discuss the status of my manuscript. “I think there might be something waiting for me at home—a response about the story I sent to your uncle.”
“Your novella?”
I nodded. “If Carrie’s right, I might have an acceptance letter.’
He grinned. “I’m not surprised.”
“You know about this?” I stared at him incredulously.
He filled me in on the details, and as it turned out, his short story had also been chosen for publication.
“Once again, we’ll be published together,” I said, remembering the story he’d written under a female pen name—for a girl’s magazine, no less!
“Yeah.” He gave my arm a teeny squeeze, and even though a bunch of kids from choir witnessed the gesture, I didn’t mind. Jared was actually super cool.
The next morning, at eight o’clock, Sean met up with us as we waited on E Street for a tour of the J. Edgar Hoover Federal Bureau of Investigation Building. I spotted his short blond hair, and after being nudged nearly out of line by giggly Andie, I called to him.
Sean hurried over, almost sprinting. I was surprised to see how much taller he was—and really tan. “Hey, Holly. It’s good to see you again.” His smile was warm and endearing.
“Same here,” I said, trying to tune out the running dialogue between Andie and the twins behind me. “I’d like you to meet some of my friends.”
I spotted Mrs. Duncan ahead of us and led Sean over to meet our choir director and the adult sponsors. I could tell Andie was having a fit by the way she glared at me as we got back in line a few minutes later.
To appease her, I reintroduced Sean to her. “I’m sure you remember Andie Martinez.”
He extended his hand like a true gentleman. “Hey, Andie. How’s it going?”
While I was introducing Paula and Kayla, Jared happened to come over. “This is Jared Wilkins,” I told Sean. Then turning to Jared, I said, “I’d like you to meet my California friend, Sean Hamilton.”
The two of them shook hands, too, Jared taking the initiative and striking up a conversation with Sean. I was terribly impressed with Jared’s maturity as I observed them together. He’d come a long way since his “jealousy days”!
Soon the long line of eager tourists began to move. Mrs. Duncan had informed us that this was the week for the White House spring garden tour. “That’s why America’s hometown is overcrowded with sightseers,” she explained.
Personally, I was glad the competition had been held this month. I couldn’t begin to imagine how crowded Washington, D.C., would be in the summer with school out.
Sean fell into step with me. We talked about his cross-continental flight and where the Dressel Hills choir stood with the competition so far. “A decision will be made by tonight,” I told him. “The first-place choir gets to sing at the Capitol, in the rotunda, tomorrow at noon.”
“Cool.” He grinned. “In front of lots of congressmen?”
“And women.”
He laughed. “Of course.”
Soon we were led through the entrance to the block-long building—the John Dillinger “death mask” and the Ten Most Wanted list exhibits greeted us. A gripping crime show!
Danny Myers and some of the other guys asked questions, but the guide wasn’t stumped by any of them. In fact, he seemed to have an answer for everything, along with additional stories— complete with blood-curdling details.
Because Sean was pursuing a career in medicine, he was most interested in the crime labs, where technicians did all sorts of scrutinizing work. Things like analyzing handwriting and fibers and determining blood types.
Next, we were taken to a room filled with over four thousand guns and twelve thousand different kinds of ammunition. Some of the guys in the group got overtly macho suddenly but not Sean.
He listened and observed, like the young gentleman he was.
Last but not least, we witnessed the FBI’s very own indoor firing range—noisy and action-packed. We viewed it from behind a glass wall, of course. Personally, I was glad to get out of there!
After the FBI tour we caught the Metrorail, which sped us away to the National Air and Space Museum. Mrs. Duncan told us, before we ever stepped inside, that this was the most-visited museum in the world. More than nine million people visited each year.
When our group was divided in half by our adult sponsors, Andie sulked about it—which meant she wasn’t thrilled about her and the Miller twins being separated from Sean and me. I figured she’d get over it. Besides, it was a much better arrangement . . . at least for my guy friend and me.
The place was literally soaring with airplanes, rockets, and missiles—from the Wright brothers’ 1903 Flyer to the Viking Lander from Mars. I had a hard time keeping up with our small group, though, because I really wanted to just stand and gawk at each exhibit. And the space probes and satellites floating overhead.
“C’mon, Holly,” Sean called to me once. “I’d hate to see you ‘space out’ in here.”
I laughed. “You’re pun-ny,” I said about his play on words. And he was. A real wit and a half!
About an hour later, while we were exploring the huge Skylab space station, suddenly our group vanished. It seemed so weird, especially because just seconds before, we’d all been together—right here in this huge, silver, barrel-shaped orbital workshop.
“If we hurry, maybe we can track ’em down,” Sean suggested.
So we rushed through the long middle hall, trying to spot anyone familiar. We even backtracked through each of the two-story hallways, searching everywhere.
After checking the Albert Einstein Planetarium section, we decided it was futile; besides, we didn’t want to waste valuable sightseeing time. We would go it alone. And secretly, I was thrilled.
“I hope Mrs. Duncan and the others won’t worry,” I said as we made our way outside into the warm, bright sunshine.
“Oh, there’s a good chance we’ll run into them,” Sean assured me. “Any idea where they’d be headed next?”
“Probably somewhere for lunch, but beats me where.”
My cell phone battery was dead, so I really wasn’t sure about the best approach to take for locating our group. Neither was Sean, but he had a great idea. “Let’s grab a snack. I don’t know about you, but I’m starved.”
We walked to a hot dog stand one block away. While we waited in line, Sean and I talked—mostly about the monuments and the attractions. But I really wanted to know his impressions of George Washington University and the college days activities over the past weekend. I decided not to be nosy, though—I’d wait till he brought it up.
With the sun shining down on us through the newly formed leaves, Sean asked, “What’s your favorite attraction so far?”
“That’s hard to say,” I replied, telling him about the splendor of the Lincoln Memorial and the drama of Ford’s Theatre. “We saw those Saturday.” I paused for a moment. “What I think I really liked best was the space museum—touching the moon rock was so cool. What about you?”
“Has to be the FBI building.”
I wasn’t surprised. The place was perfect for a guy interested in blood and other medical stuff.
We were finally close enough to the food stand to read the prices—three times higher than in Dressel Hills—probably than any other place in the world, too.
“How hungry are you?” he asked with a grin.
“A little.” But I certainly didn’t want him to think he had to pay for me. Quickly, I pulled out my wallet. The face of George Washington on my one-dollar bills gave me an idea. “Hey, want to visit the Bureau of Engraving and Printing this afternoon? My stepdad highly recommended it.”
Sean promptly found his tourist guide and map. “Sounds like fun. I hear they print more than thirty-five million bills every day.”
I was surprised at how agreeable he was. Andie would say he was only trying to impress me. But I had a different take on the way Sean handled himself around me. And it had nothing to do with trying to sway or influence me. Nope. Sean was a well-bred, very nice Christian guy.
Secretly, I hoped our friendship might continue for a long time. At least, until he and I came to know God’s plans for our lives. Of course, no way would I discuss the book I’d read recently. Not with Sean. I wouldn’t want him to think I was bold or, as my mother called it, forward. According to her, no one ever attracted a nice boy by chasing him.
Surprisingly enough, I’d found this to be true in the past. The best way to attract friendships with boys was to allow them to do the pursuing.
And over hot dogs, fries smothered in ketchup, and plenty of soda, I let Sean do just that.
IT’S A GIRL THING
Sean did end up paying for my lunch, even though I told him I was quite capable of handling my own financial affairs.
He wouldn’t hear of it. So I guess I could actually say this had just been my very first real date—even though I’d tried to convince myself that I wasn’t interested in the formal dating thing much anymore.
Mom had made a rule years ago that I had to be fifteen to go out on an actual date with a guy. Oh sure, I’d spent lots of time in groups with boys from our church, but for some reason, I’d built up this whole date thing in my mind. Longing, waiting for the second I turned fifteen.
Funny thing, though. My thinking had begun to change, partly because of that cool book, and for another reason, too. Sean was my good friend. The way I saw it, our relationship was fabulous—and absolutely appropriate for our age—just the way things were. To think of him in a romantic, gushy sense would surely spoil things. I couldn’t risk anything happening to the beautiful rapport we shared.
So I was determined to shove out the first-date notion and focus on simply sharing with and listening to my friend.
After lunch we walked nearly three blocks on the Mall, toward the Bureau of Engraving and Printing. Ordinary sights and sounds captured our attention along the way—little kids from a day care having a picnic, and a group of older folk on bicycles.
We soaked up the gentle, warm breezes of a romantic April afternoon . . . er, I mean a pleasant one.
Finally I couldn’t wait any longer. I simply had to ask the question burning inside me. “What do you think of the university here?” I blurted.
Sean smiled as we walked, glancing at me as if he might be ready to discuss it. “I want to check out two others before I make my final decision. You know, take my time about it.”
“So you’re not really wild about George Washington University?’
“It’s great—but too far away from California.”
“Where are the other schools?” I asked, genuinely interested.
“One’s KU—Kansas University.” He paused for a moment, a wide grin spreading across his face. “And the other is UCCS—the University of Colorado at Colorado Springs.”
“You’re kidding! You might go to school in
my
state?”
He stopped walking and turned to me. “Wouldn’t it be cool, Holly? And so handy for me to see you more often.”
“That’d be fun,” I admitted as a curious feeling caught me by surprise.
