Holly's Heart Collection Three (35 page)

After school I needed to head straight home. Uncle Jack had told me in no uncertain terms during breakfast that I was on restriction. Not surprising. I’d dished out some pretty nasty stuff to Mom this morning, thanks to my lousy attitude.

Mentally, I abandoned the power struggle over the after school phoning rule and hurried to the bus stop. The rule wasn’t worth the fight. Besides, I had a hunch there might be some mail waiting for me, so I didn’t mind going right home.

My hunch was correct. Sean’s letter lay on top of the pile of mail on the corner desk in the kitchen. Mom had probably placed it there so I’d see it right away. Funny, she never held a grudge. Never.

Quickly, I opened the envelope and leaned on the island in the middle of the kitchen, reading the letter.

Saturday, January 20
Dear Holly,

I’m afraid I have some bad news. Remember the group of middle schoolers I told you about—Power House? Well, there have been a few problems with some of the younger kids— parental permission, finances, etc.—and it looks as though we are not coming to Dressel Hills to ski as planned.

At the present time, the adult leaders are leaning toward going to San Diego for the weekend of February 16.

I’m sorry about this turn of events, Holly. I had no idea our personal plans would have to be altered like this. I really wanted a chance to celebrate your birthday with you, even if it was going to be two days late.

More than anything, I hope there will be many other opportunities to see each other.

The words on the page faded, blurred in a flood of tears.
More than anything . . . other opportunities . . . not coming . . .

I ran, sobbing, to my room.

“Something’s wrong with Holly,” I heard Carrie say as I closed my bedroom door. I wanted to lock it—shut the whole world out. Crying my eyes out was all I could do.

Poor Goofey, helpless to know how to comfort me, meowed out of concern and pushed his furry back up against me as I lay on the bed.

Minutes later someone tapped on my door. “Holly?” It was Mom. “Is there anything I can do?”

I couldn’t speak for the tears.

“Holly-Heart?”

This was one time—one of the very few times in my life—I desperately needed to be left alone. Ordinarily, when I was sad or depressed, I wanted someone to pursue me, help me through my pain, even if I insisted I didn’t. I was weird that way.

At this moment, however, I needed time to cry. Time to feel sorry for myself. Sean wasn’t coming to Colorado after all. Our plans, all of them, had melted away with this letter.

No one else—
no one
—could possibly understand what I was feeling. Any coaxing or offering of sympathy would be useless.

“Holly?” Mom called again.

“I can’t talk now,” I managed to say, hoping with all my heart she’d believe me and leave me alone.

“Okay, honey,” she replied, “but I’m just down the hall if you need me.”

Need me.
Of course I needed her. Maybe not at this instant, but later, if I ever got over this horrible disappointment. Mom was my mainstay, my rock-solid support in life—the one I’d always counted on, the only one who’d never let me down.

But now, the way things stood between us . . . how could I possibly expect kind words from her after the heart-wrenching things I’d said this morning?

Holding the letter, I reread Sean’s words. He wouldn’t be coming for my fifteenth birthday. That meant there’d be no snow party with the Dressel Hills youth group. No first date with the one and only Sean Hamilton.

So much for bragging and blabbing about my California guy friend. If only I’d kept my big mouth shut.

EIGHT IS ENOUGH

Chapter 15

For the second week in a row, I couldn’t bring myself to attend youth group. Andie and the Miller twins might’ve thought I’d deceived them by saying I was coming. I hoped not, because I had fully intended to go when we discussed it at lunch.

But now . . . with my eyes swollen and my cheeks red from crying, well, it was totally pointless.

I stayed home and worked on coming up with a title for my novella.
Nothing But the Heart
was one of my stronger title options. I knew it might not be the one I would end up with, but as a working title it spurred me on.

Miraculously, with Stan and the rest of the kids out of the house at church clubs, I was able to write two more good chapters. I surprised myself. Usually when I was in a gray mood like tonight, nothing, absolutely nothing, flowed when it came to writing. Sometimes, though, my writing was therapy. Tonight, it was just that—keeping my mind off the big disappointment.

When I went to the kitchen for some pop, Uncle Jack and I avoided each other. Mom didn’t dodge me but seemed a little distant. Maybe she was hurt. Knowing Mom, she would survive. She always did.

As for me, things were piling up emotionally, like the steady snowfall outside. First the baby news, the custody issues, then Sean’s letter. What next?

My shoulders drooped as I headed back upstairs to edit my chapters.

Less than five minutes later Mom was at my door, knocking gently, almost hesitantly. “Your stepfather and I would like to see you for a minute.” She stated it so formally, I wondered if there was going to be additional discipline heaped upon me for the way I’d behaved this morning. Maybe going without phone calls and having to come straight home from school today wasn’t enough for my stepdad.

I dropped everything and left my room.

When I arrived, Uncle Jack was sitting at the dining room table, having a slice of frozen yogurt pie. Mom pulled out a chair next to him, and I, wanting a cushion of space between myself and the powers-that-be, sat at the far end of the table.

Uncle Jack glanced at Mom before he began. “Your father called here this afternoon, Holly . . . and spoke to your mother briefly.”

I felt my throat constrict, go instantly dry.

“Your father’s talking lawyers, court hearings, the works.” He studied me with serious eyes. “You’ve created quite a stir in the family.”

I was secretly pleased. Daddy was coming through for me, after all these years!

Mom started to sniffle, reaching into her pocket for a tissue. I hoped she wouldn’t cut loose and really start boohooing. But, at this advanced stage of her pregnancy, who was to know.

“As you can see,” Uncle Jack continued, “your mother is taking every bit of this very hard, kiddo.” He let his fork hang off the edge of his plate. “As for me, I’d like to see this difficulty worked out for the best of everyone concerned.”

“What about my best interests?” I blurted. “Isn’t that what the judge will look at?”

Mom sighed, folding her hands on the table. “We’re hoping it won’t go that far. We’d like to be able to work things out with you.”

“Me?” I coughed. “I’m the one feeling pushed out. You need my room for your nursery; I need the chance to breathe again. Daddy has the space for me to do that.”

“We’re in shock,” Mom said through a veil of tears. “How can we . . . I . . . let you go? You’re my first child, Holly-Heart. I love you so. . . .” Her voice trailed off, intermingled with tears.

“What’s so wrong with splitting my time between Colorado and California?” I wailed.

“What’s wrong is your attitude.” Uncle Jack was getting up now. He began to walk back and forth, rubbing his hands together like he was stirring up his thoughts. “You aren’t working with us—you’re fighting us. Fighting everything we’re trying to do for you.”

“How can you say that?” I shot back.

“Think about it,” he said softly.

I drew a deep breath. “Oh, I know, this must be about that stupid rule—that after-school phoning rule. You think I should just comply with it, even though I’m older now. Lots older than when Mom first created it. I never complained about it all those years before.”

Uncle Jack stood behind Mom’s chair, massaging her shoulders gently as she cried. “I don’t think we’re getting anywhere with this.” He looked over at me, concern in his eyes. “I want you to promise me one thing, Holly. Your father is in agreement with this, too.”

What is he going to say?

“We—all of us—want you to spend time praying about the joint custody decision. We’ll be praying, too.”

Mom was literally sobbing. Uncle Jack leaned down and whispered, “I think it would be best if you’d rest now, honey.” He kissed her on the top of her head. “We surely don’t want anything to happen. Not now.”

Mom got up with Uncle Jack’s help, leaving in tears from the dining room. I was outraged. Uncle Jack had just implied that I might be causing problems for Mom—for her pregnancy. How could he say that?

I would never do anything to cause Mom to lose . . . to lose the baby,
I thought.
Never!

The anger pounded in me. I stared at the man who was my uncle and stepdad rolled up in one. It was all I could do to control myself. Holding in my frustration only brought indignant tears. They fell unchecked.

“You think I’ve planned this—set all this up—to make Mom have trouble with her pregnancy?” I said, my words pouring out with a vengeance. “Is that what you think?”

He looked at me with bewildered eyes, standing there silently.

“You know me better than that!” I shouted. And with that, I flew out of the room and up the stairs.

EIGHT IS ENOUGH

Chapter 16

The next week was a blur of gloom. At least for me. Everyone else in the house seemed to be involved in some baby activity or another.

An unspoken wall of tension remained between Uncle Jack and me. Mom kept to herself, however. I was beginning to wonder if she’d ever get used to the fact that I wanted to split my time between her and Daddy. Usually, Mom took things in stride. But when it came to heart matters such as these, I guess Mom simply couldn’t pull herself out of the doldrums.

I didn’t get around to calling the attorney’s office back. The way I saw it, if Daddy was actually willing to consider the possibility, I’d rather use his private family attorney than have the state appoint one for me here. As for proceeding with the legal side of things, I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for. Maybe the fact that everyone had insisted I pray about it. Maybe that was what was holding me back.

But I hadn’t obeyed. All week I avoided the prayer issue, even neglected my personal devotions. Deep within myself, I recognized my problem. I was stubborn and unwilling to let God work in me. I wanted things my way or not at all. Yet I was too headstrong to change my course.

Carrie was the one who got me charged up about things again. I was cleaning my room after school when she knocked on my door.

“Hi,” she said, wide-eyed. Her hair was in a long ponytail; the way I used to wear mine. “I heard you want outta here.”

“Oh, really?” So Mom had finally gotten around to informing the rest of the family. I closed the door behind her, allowing Carrie into my private domain.

“I think it stinks,” she said, and before I could comment, she began to cry.

“Carrie, what’s wrong?” I went over to where she stood in front of my dresser, burying her head in her hands. Stunned, I wrapped my arms around her. “It’s okay, you don’t have to cry.”

But cry she did. Not just a little, either. Heartbreaking sobs poured from her. “Don’t leave, Holly . . . please, don’t go away. . . .”

I felt my own eyes watering—that’s how incredibly crushed Carrie sounded. Waiting for her to calm down, I finally spoke. “I hope you don’t think I want to go away because of you.” The thought had occurred to me while she was bawling. I didn’t want Carrie to think that I was abandoning her just because she was turning into a snooty little so-and-so.

“Mom said you need some space—to get away from here for a while,” she blubbered. “I don’t see what’s so bad about living here.”

I tried to explain. “It’s not just the space. It’s other things, too.”

She looked up at me suddenly, her tearful eyes demanding answers. “Like what other things? What could possibly be so awful about living here?”

“I didn’t say it was awful.”

“You know how much Mom . . . how much I love you.”

“And I love you, too.” I hugged her.

“But just not Mom, is that it?”

“Of course not, silly. That’s not it at all.” I was groping for words. Everything I wanted to say to her sounded trite inside my head.

“Then is it about the baby?” she asked, wiping her eyes.

I waited a few seconds before responding. “Yes, the baby’s a big problem for me.”

She didn’t understand. I knew by the incredulous look on her face. “How can you say that?”

I shook my head. It was no use. “I can’t explain it.”

“You’re jealous, then, that must be it.”

I hated her for saying that. Everyone was saying it. Even Andie. “Why should I be jealous of an unborn baby, for pete’s sake?”

She stared at me, determination in her eyes. “It’s written all over your face.”

I chuckled. “You’re sounding more like Mom every day.”

“So that’s it, huh? You have nothing to say for yourself.”

At that moment, I wanted to escort her—no, I wanted to
throw
her out of my room. The haughty little brat! “I don’t need a lecture from you.” I went to the door and opened it wide.

“Someone should talk sense into you. You’re making our mother sick, Holly. Why don’t you think about someone else besides yourself for a change?” In a huff, she bounced out of the room.