Holly's Heart Collection Three (43 page)

“He and I correspond occasionally,” she volunteered. “I think we were very fortunate to have Mr. Barnett come here.”

I didn’t say another word. Not with Andie and Paula staring at me like they thought I might still have feelings for the guy. Of course, I didn’t. All that was far behind me now.

“Are all of you in show choir?” asked Miss Hess.

“Yep,” Andie said. “And we’re loving every minute of it.”

“And you must be the accompanist?” She grinned at Andie.

That’s when I spoke up. “She’s fabulous. You should hear her play the interlude to some of our songs.” Which got Andie an invitation to show off.

She sat right down, without being begged, and played.

“Oh, I miss having you around,” Miss Hess said. “Good pianists are a dime a dozen, but pianists who can actually follow a director, now, there’s a dying breed.”

Andie beamed, and I was proud of my friend.

We said our good-byes, and I left the building with a sad, lumpy feeling in my throat. I wondered if my friends felt the same way; all of us were quiet until we got out to the sidewalk.

“Man, I miss that place,” Andie said.

“Me too.” I linked arms with my girl friends.

Paula and Kayla smiled sentimental, look-alike smiles as we waited for the city bus. The bus stop was across the street and down about a half block, facing the Soda Straw, one of our favorite spots, even now that we were hot-shot freshmen.

“Do you remember when Holly dressed up like a Catholic nun and eavesdropped on Mr. Barnett and Miss Hess at the Soda Straw?” Andie said.

I groaned. “Oh please!”

“Hilarious,” Paula said. “And remember how Holly’s hair was hanging out of the nun’s wimple?” The twins laughed and teased me even more.

Now it was my turn. “What about the promise I made to your mom there, Andie?”

“You said you’d watch over me when I went to California with you last summer,” she said. “What a mess I got myself into.”

“No kidding.”

The bus was coming, and it was probably a good thing. Sometimes rehashing the past can dig up pain you’d rather not deal with in front of people—even your best friends.

I dropped the subject, and we turned our attention toward the choir trip and our hopes for a win at nationals.

“Even if we don’t place, it’s going to be a wonderful experience for everyone,” Paula offered.

“My mom says so, too,” said Andie.

I kept quiet, letting the others voice their feelings. It wasn’t time to tell anyone about Sean’s and my plans to meet. They might think I wasn’t sincere when I agreed with them that romance God’s way was best.

IT’S A GIRL THING

Chapter 9

My mother started having labor pains early Wednesday morning, two days before the scheduled choir trip. And a full week before she was supposed to be due!

I didn’t even want to go to school, I was that upset. Here she was going to have the baby and spoil my hopes for singing at the competition. And for seeing Sean again.

Of course, this was all very selfish, the way I felt. But the frantic, hopeless feeling persisted, and by noon, I’d called the hospital twice.

Andie hovered close to my phone as I listened to the nurse on the other end. “Did your mom have her baby yet?” she whispered.

I shook my head and hung up, then scuffed my foot against the waxed floor. “Mom’s definitely in labor but not even close to delivering. Can you believe this?” I moaned and stomped off to the cafeteria, Andie trailing behind.

“Are you really sure your stepdad meant you’d have to stay home from the choir competition?” she asked.

“Uncle Jack never talks in riddles. It’s clear, all right. He wants to be in the delivery room when his baby is born, which means I’m needed at home.”

“Oh, Holly,” she wailed, “I thought you were praying about this!”

“I have been.” I turned to look at her. “Have you?”

“Not actually prayed . . . no.”

“Well, if you’re so worried, why not?” It was a harsh thing to say, and I was immediately sorry.

“Look, the way I see it, something big has to happen in order for you to go to Washington, D.C.,” she insisted.

“Such as?”

“Like maybe . . .” She thought for a moment. “Like if your mom has the baby today or even tonight, she might be home by Friday.”

“Nice try.” It wasn’t really, but Andie seemed desperate to help. “There’s another reason why Mom’s got to have this baby soon . . . like today,” I said as we waited in the hot-lunch line.

Andie frowned, and I knew she had no clue. “Why?”

“Because of Sean Hamilton.”

“I’m confused. What about Sean?”

“Well, it just so happens that he’s going to be visiting the campus at George Washington University during college days. This very weekend he’s checking out the premed program.” I didn’t say that he and I were hoping to spend some time together. One bombshell at a time.

“Oh, so now you tell me.” She reached for a fruit salad on a bed of semi-wilted lettuce.

“You’re going to eat that?” I joked.

“Oh no, you don’t. You don’t get off that easy!”

We paid for our lunches and headed over to the area where we usually sat—as far away from the seniors as possible, but close enough to the big window to enjoy the sunny springtime.

Andie stared me down until I started explaining things. Like how I was excited to know that Sean would be in Washington, D.C., and how I’d already talked to Mrs. Duncan about his coming along on one of the choir’s tours.

“Really?” She stopped eating, her fork dangling between her fingers. “Then you must’ve been fooling me about waiting for the perfect mate.”

I’d figured she might think this. “Don’t you understand? Sean and I have been friends—just friends—from the very beginning. He and I are not romantically involved. Nothing like that.”

“Yeah, right. When have I heard that before?”

“Well, it’s true.”

“Then why do you want to see him so badly?”

“We miss each other. What’s so terrible about that?”

“Nothing, I just—”

“Look, I don’t think you and I are going to see eye to eye on this,” I interrupted. “Why can’t you trust me? Sean and I really are just good friends.”

She tilted her head, unconsciously questioning me from across the table. “Would you be willing to forfeit seeing him?”

“Why . . . because of the book?”

“Well, that and because it sounds like your parents are counting on you here at home.”

I sighed. “First of all, not seeing Sean has nothing to do with waiting or not waiting for God’s will, and second . . . how long does it take to have a baby?”

The answer to my question came hours later. Many hours, unfortunately.

I was trying to get Carrie and Stephie to stop whining about going to bed, while Mark and Phil insisted that their dad had said they could stay up till he got home from the hospital.

“But he might not be back till midnight or later,” I explained.

“So?” Mark said.

I talked straight to my droopy-eyed brousins. “The way I see it, you two can stay up as late as you like. Just don’t complain tomorrow when you have to get up early for school, all wiped out.”

Man, I was really beginning to sound like somebody’s parent!

Stan was no help. He hid away in his room, shutting out his family as I tried desperately to cope with the real possibility of missing out on a school trip of a lifetime. All the while attempting to keep the house running and my younger siblings on their usual schedules. I was barely holding my own.

“Lord, please let Mom have her baby soon,” I prayed, getting myself ready for bed. “It’s not just because I want to go to Washington on Friday—although that would be fabulous. It’s more like so I won’t lose my sanity, staying here!”

I pulled on my warmest bathrobe and padded downstairs in my slippers. My younger siblings were all tucked in for the night. It was time for me to have a little talk with Stan.

There was a light shining from under his door. Good! He was still up.

“It’s open,” he called when I knocked.

I poked my head in just a bit. “You busy?”

“Who, me?” He laughed, and I hoped this might be easier than I’d first thought.

Honestly, I didn’t want to step foot in his room—the epitome of messy. Everywhere I looked, clothes were draped over chairs, strewn around on the floor . . . even dangling off a lampshade.

“Dad won’t be thrilled about this,” I said, referring to the major pigsty.

“Dad’s not here, is he” came the reply.

“No, but I am.” I held my breath and moved past the doorway and into the room a few inches. “Your room doesn’t meet my standards, so would it be possible to meet me in the kitchen, say, in five minutes?”

He glanced at his watch, then up at me, a quizzical look on his face. “Now’s fine.”

It was the answer I was hoping for. I turned and left the eyesore behind. It seemed weird being the only one up in the house—except for Stan, of course. Knowing that my younger brothers and sisters were snuggled safely in their beds (after waiting up for so long, they had finally fallen asleep!), created a peculiar response in me. This emotion I didn’t fully understand. Maybe it came out of a sense of responsibility—one I wasn’t exactly sure I was ready to take on—or just plain being needed. A response Stan sure could use about now.

The phone rang, and I jumped to get it. “Hello?”

“Holly, it’s Uncle Jack. I wanted to check in with you before you head for bed. Is everything okay there?”

Did I dare tell him about my chaotic evening with his children? Should I mention the horrid state of affairs in Stan’s room? Or Stan’s lousy attitude?

“Holly?” He sounded worried.

“Uh, things are fine. How’s Mom?”

“It’s become quite a struggle, I’m afraid. The docs are talking surgery—Caesarean section.”

“Oh no.”

“I’m not wild about it, either, but if it’s going to mean the difference between—”

“Mom’s all right, isn’t she?” I blurted.

“She’s fine; it’s the baby we’re worried about.”

I cringed. I really didn’t want to hear any more. Right now, the only thing I could think about was Mom. If she lost this baby, too, well . . . she just couldn’t!

“Please don’t worry, honey,” Uncle Jack was saying.

Now he tells me,
I thought.

“I’ll pray,” I said.

“That’s good . . . please pray,” he whispered.

We continued talking—about what to do if Stephie became frightened in the night or if Mark needed his inhaler . . . important stuff like that. As for me, I didn’t mention the choir trip looming before me. Or the fact that his firstborn son was now standing over me, glaring.

“Please tell Mom I love her,” I said.

“I sure will, and she loves you, too, Holly. We both do. And thanks for everything you and Stan are doing to help.”

Stan? What was
he
doing?

I hung up after we said good-bye and felt completely at liberty to unload on my brousin. “Your father seems to think you’re involved here, helping keep the home fires burning, but what he doesn’t know is you’re shirking your duty as a member of this family!”

I brushed past him and went to the other side of the kitchen, leaning on the sink the way Mom did sometimes when we were having a serious talk.

“What’re you so high and mighty about?” he muttered.

“Mom’s having trouble,” I said. “She might need to have a C-section.”

“That bad?”

“The doctors must think so.” I paused a moment before going on. “What’s really bad around here, though, is you. Don’t you realize I’ll probably end up missing the national choir competitions? And it’s all because of you!”

“Me?” He was playing dumb, a role he knew well.

“Look, if you were half the man you think you are, you’d get off your duff and actually help out around here.”

“Why? So you can go off and see your boyfriend?” he jeered.

“Sean’s not my boyfriend any more than you’re a responsible big brother.” The words stung the air as they flew off my lips.

Stan pulled out a barstool and sat down, flashing angry eyes at me.

“Think about it—what is it you do when you’re needed the most?” I said, bringing the focus of things back to him. “I’ll tell you . . . you run and hide, that’s what!”