Holly's Heart Collection Three (37 page)
She shook her head. “Do whatever you want about him.”
“Really?” I said, elated. “Did I hear you correctly? You’re actually giving me permission to live my life without consulting you every five minutes?”
Andie ignored my ranting and boarded the bus.
Case closed. At last!
I couldn’t wait to get back to
Tricia’s Secret Journey.
But first I worked through my French homework on the bus.
Back home, Carrie and Stephie had already claimed the dining room table, spreading their homework every which way. Phil was using the kitchen island for his space. Mark was outside playing in the snow, and Stan still wasn’t home from school. As best as I could calculate, Stan had ten more minutes before he should be calling home. The after-school calling rule remained in force. Even for male sophomores.
Mom was resting quietly in her room. Uncle Jack was still downtown at his consulting firm. No one else was upstairs. Fabulous—everyone in the house was occupied at the same time. I curled up beside Goofey and opened my book.
As always, Marty Leigh’s writing pulled me into the familiar fiction world I loved. Tricia Joellyn had succeeded in getting the joint custody issue resolved and was now living six months out of the year with her dad and stepmom. Naturally, she’d discovered a mystery while there.
Yes! The suspenseful part,
I thought.
I had actually begun to wonder why this book was classified as a mystery. But here it was, in the incredibly suspenseful last third of the book. Tricia had uncovered a long-kept family secret—there was a twin sister she’d never known. The girls had been separated at birth. Somewhere out in the vast world, Tricia’s twin lived with another set of parents—adoptive parents. A girl with Tricia’s face. But where?
I was so engrossed in the plot, I never even heard my name being called. Stan had come home, evidently bringing someone with him, or so Carrie was saying as she opened my bedroom door. “I’ve been calling you, Holly.”
“Uh, sorry.” I marked my page with my finger, still absorbed in the book.
“Someone’s downstairs to see you,” she said. “One of your girl friends.”
Reluctantly, I searched for a bookmark and closed the book, wondering what girl friend of mine would be coming home with Stan.
I heard Kayla Miller’s bright, cheerful laughter. She’d managed to get Stan’s attention, it seemed. Without my help. This was fascinating.
I headed downstairs. “Hey, Kayla,” I greeted her as I came into the living room. “What’s up?”
Kayla’s eyes sparkled. “Stan’s going to be my project partner.’
Stan had already begun to unroll some wide sketching paper across the living room floor. “We’re making a timeline for world history class,” he informed me.
I grinned at Kayla. “Really?”
She nodded. “We chose the Middle Ages. It’s due next week.”
“Cool.” I was dying to know who’d asked whom but didn’t want to embarrass Kayla.
It turned out Stan escorted Kayla home after supper. They took the city bus since he hadn’t had his license long enough to drive with an underage passenger—not one who wasn’t related to him. I observed the way the two of them interacted comfortably in front of Mom and Uncle Jack and the rest of the family at the table. They were a good match. Kayla had been right all along.
I was putting the last plate in the dishwasher when Jared called. “Hello?” I said, getting it on the first ring so there’d be no competition in the house.
“Hey,” Jared said. “I wish we could’ve talked earlier. After school.”
I laughed. “We’re talking now.”
“Guess you’re right.” He paused, like he was getting up the nerve to ask me something. “Uh, Holly, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking—mostly praying, though.”
Strange, hearing Jared Wilkins talk this way.
“I think God’s telling me that you shouldn’t continue pursuing the joint custody thing,” he said.
“Telling
you.
” I chuckled. “Who is this talking, really?”
He didn’t laugh. “I’m serious, Holly.” He didn’t go on and on trying to persuade me. His words were brief and to the point. This approach was refreshing after having put up with Andie’s constant nagging on the subject. She never could just make her point and then stop. With her, it was all about overkill.
I wanted to hear more. “You think God’s telling you this . . . for me?”
“You sound surprised,” he said. “I thought you’d be getting the same sort of spiritual direction.”
“What do you mean?”
He didn’t answer for a moment. “You’re praying about this, aren’t you?”
I was caught. What could I say? I felt humiliated. Here was Jared, praying about
my
future circumstances.
“Holly?”
I took a deep breath. “To be honest with you, I haven’t prayed about joint custody. Not really.”
“Something so life altering, and—”
“This is
my
business,” I interrupted.
“I can see that.” He said it firmly, almost sternly. “Well, I guess I don’t have anything more to say to you. Other than I’m praying you’ll do things God’s way.” Jared said good-bye and hung up.
I was baffled by his words. If I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought he’d conferred with Danny Myers, the most spiritual guy in our entire youth group. Had someone coached Jared on what to say just now?
Surely not. And Andie thought
I
was the one undergoing a temperament change. Whew, this was unbelievable.
I couldn’t wait to tell someone. Anyone!
EIGHT IS ENOUGH
The following evening, Uncle Jack was rounding everyone up. Time to watch Mom’s baby swim around in her tummy. I couldn’t believe I was actually going to sit through this event.
Mom settled down in her favorite spot in the family room downstairs—on the far end of the sectional. The arm was wide and comfortable there, and she propped several throw pillows behind her back.
Stan, Phil, Mark, Carrie, and Stephie sat cross-legged on the floor in front of the TV screen, eager for the show to begin. I, however, perched on the edge of the sectional at the opposite end from Mom and Uncle Jack. The way I figured, a noncommittal attitude was best for a night like this.
“Show us our new baby,” Carrie called as Uncle Jack picked up the remote. His enthusiastic smile gave his excitement away.
Not a word had been said at supper about whether the baby was a boy or a girl. Top-secret info. Maybe Uncle Jack, being the unorthodox kind of guy he was, really and truly wanted this to be a memorable moment for the family.
“We should have a meeting after the video, to name the baby,” Mark said.
Uncle Jack looked Mom’s way. “What do you say, honey? Good idea?”
She nodded, pushing a loose strand of hair out of her face. “I’m open to any and all suggestions. Within reason, of course.” Since we had several comedians in the family, she probably felt she had to say that.
“You’re on, Mark. Great idea,” Uncle Jack said, to which Mark and Phil gave each other high fives.
Must be a boy,
I thought.
They probably already know. . . .
Of course, someone to carry on the Patterson name. Not that Uncle Jack needed another son! But Mom—she’d probably be thrilled. She’d never given birth to a boy.
“Okay, kill the lights,” Uncle Jack said, nestling back into the sectional next to Mom.
The video began.
Reluctantly, I watched as a shadowy, almost ethereal image was projected on the screen. My eyes scanned the ultrasound picture. Then I saw it—the baby, curled up in a snug position. Sucking its thumb.
Uncle Jack began to narrate as we watched. “Each of us grows from one tiny cell, smaller than a grain of sand, to a full-grown baby of about seven or eight pounds.”
“How long is a baby when it’s ready to be born?” Stephie asked in the darkness.
“Around twenty or twenty-one inches,” Mom replied. “You and Holly were both a little over twenty-one inches at birth.”
“Will
this
baby be that long?” Phil asked.
Who cared about lengths and pounds? What was this kid, anyway—male or female? Wasn’t that what this viewing session was all about?
Uncle Jack kept talking about the way babies grow and prepare for birth. I knew all this stuff. Eventually, though, I found myself paying closer attention, looking for evidence to indicate that Mom’s baby might be a boy.
Stephie was the least shy one in the bunch. “I can’t see anything,’ she said. There were several snickers in the darkness.
Uncle Jack explained about ultrasounds—how it wasn’t always easy to tell if the baby was a girl or a boy. “They have to be turned just right,” he explained. He was cool that way. I mean, I didn’t know many fathers—er, uncles-turned-stepdads— who could handle this subject so delicately. Anyway, Stephie seemed satisfied.
Uncle Jack continued to watch from his cozy spot with Mom. Then he began to quote some verses from Psalm 139. The ones that always made me shiver when I realized how much God had loved me, even before I was ever born. “‘For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made. . . .’”
Wonderfully made . . . this little child . . .
“The baby’s a girl,” I blurted without thinking.
“Holly’s right,” Uncle Jack said. “We’re going to have another little girl.”
I held my breath, watching. My soon-to-be little sister—tiny hands and feet, fingers and toes—perfectly formed. The more I watched, the more I had to fight back the tears. What a horrible big sister I had been, treating this precious, God-ordained life with disdain. With resentment.
In the dim light of the video, I stole a glance at Mom and Uncle Jack. Happy newlyweds, anticipating the birth of their firstborn child together. What heartbreaking sadness each of them had endured. Lonely, grievous times. Now they had each other. And all of us.
Eight isn’t enough,
I thought. Not when you have plenty of love to go around. Mom and Uncle Jack certainly did. That was, and had been, clear all along. I’d been too stubborn, too caught up in my selfish plans, to see the truth.
Jared was right. God’s way was best. Always.
I studied my siblings—the tops of their heads silhouetted against the bright screen in front of me—as they sat watching, spellbound, on the floor. We were a family, all eight of us. In April this little child growing safely inside Mom would make us nine.
I could hardly contain myself. “We should name her April,” I said as the video ended. “It’s the perfect name.”
I caught a glimpse of Mom’s smile as Stan turned on the lights. “April’s a lovely name,” she said. “In fact, I wrote it down just yesterday as a possibility.”
Our baby-naming meeting had officially begun. Carrie and Stephie had several ideas, but in the end the name April stuck. Phil and Mark tried to get Mom to consider names like Jo or Dale for the baby’s middle name, but those got vetoed quickly. In the end, all of us agreed that April Michelle went very well with Patterson.
April Michelle. Our new little family member was greatly loved. Already!
“Is there anything else we should talk about?” asked Uncle Jack, looking at me.
I nodded. And for the first time, I asked the question that had been burning in me for days. “I’ve been wondering why you and Mom waited so long to tell us about the new baby.”
Mom leaned forward. “We wanted to be absolutely sure everything was going well,” she began. “You see, back in October, I almost lost our baby.”
I gasped.
Uncle Jack continued. “Do you remember all those nights of frozen pizzas when Mom stayed upstairs in bed?”
I remembered all right. I’d worried that Mom had the flu or something. But this? Almost losing baby April. The thought brought tears to my eyes.
“That’s why we waited,” Mom assured me. “Until we knew for sure.”
Stephie and Carrie asked a few more questions. “Are we having a baby shower?” Carrie asked.
“Probably not,” Mom said, smiling. “You usually only get a shower for the first baby.”
“When are we going shopping for baby furniture?” asked Stephie.
Mom laughed, reaching for the catalog on the coffee table. “We ordered everything almost two weeks ago. Have a look.”
Stephie and Carrie scooted over to inspect the white baby crib, dresser, and changing table to match. “Oh, you played it safe,” Carrie observed. “This was before you knew we were having a sister.”
“That’s right,” Mom said. “We didn’t want to have something too fussy or too tailored.”
The next question was on the tip of my tongue—where were they going to put the furniture?—but Uncle Jack announced that we were all going out for ice cream. “Your mother’s been craving some peppermint ice cream all day.”
I giggled. “What about some peppermint tea and honey?”
“Cravings have a way of changing during pregnancy.” Mom laughed as Uncle Jack winked at her.
I could hardly wait for some time alone with the two of them. There was so much I needed to say.
I’m sorry
was only the half of it.
EIGHT IS ENOUGH
After school the next day, I worked on the last two chapters of my novella. It was amazing what could be accomplished in a short time, especially when the writer wasn’t caught up in stressful life battles. Feeling confident, I knew I would finish
Nothing But the Heart
in plenty of time to submit it.
