Holly's Heart Collection Three (30 page)
I stopped writing, wondering how I should tell Sean about Mom’s baby. There wasn’t any creative way to say it, I decided, so I picked up my pen and flat-out informed him.
I wouldn’t be surprised if maybe Daddy’s already heard this news, so you might know about it, too. My mom’s expecting a baby at the end of April. It’s not all that surprising, really, and I should’ve guessed Mom would want more kids, but when reality hits you in the face, you have to be ready to pack up and move out of your bedroom. Yep, most likely I’ll have to give up my private domain.
Can you believe it? How would you feel if this were happening to you? But then, there are only two of you in your family, and now, since your brother’s much older and married with his own family, you probably feel like an only child. Right?
Writing this, I stopped and thought of Andie and the many times she’d remarked about what great fun a big family would be. A lot she had to learn. Big families were okay, but when eight people were crammed into a house built for four, even with a new addition, the result was sheer frustration.
Mom and Uncle Jack, however, never seemed to notice how stressful life at 207 Downhill Court had become. Is that what happened when people fell in love? They blocked out the negative parts of their life altogether?
I finished off the letter to Sean, trying very hard not to sound like a whiny, spoiled brat. Packing my schoolbag, I headed for the library doors.
At home, Mom was sitting on the living room couch trying her best to follow crocheting instructions for a yellow baby sweater and booties to match. Carrie and Stephie were helping her roll the brightly colored yarn into a smooth, round ball.
“You’re late,” Mom said as I flung my coat onto a hook in the hall closet. “And you didn’t call.”
“Lost track of time.”
“We have an understanding in this house, Holly-Heart.” She looked at me with accusing eyes. “That rule has been a long-standing one. You know better.”
“Sorry.” I took off for the kitchen, not waiting for her response.
“Excuse me, young lady.” Mom only used those words when she was upset. “I’m not finished with you.”
I crept backward through the dining room and into the living room. Carrie was covering her mouth with her hand. Stephie, too, smirked, watching my every move.
“Pull up a chair,” Mom said to me. “Let’s talk.”
“Not in front of them,” I sneered, shooting darts at the would-be roommates of my not-so-distant future.
“Holly Suzanne Meredith!” barked Mom.
Quickly, I sat down in the rocker. “I’m sorry.”
“If you don’t follow rules, you know there is always a consequence.’
I nodded. “I’ll try to do better next time.”
Carrie opened her mouth. “If there is a next time!”
Mom shushed my sister and turned to me. “This is serious business.”
“Well, I think it’s time we cancel out some of those little kid rules,” I pled my cause. “I’m a freshman now.”
“Rules help families run more smoothly,” she said, obviously not eager to lay down her defense. “I’m willing to compromise, perhaps, but not do away with the rule completely. Letting me know your whereabouts after school hours is still essential, even during your high-school years.”
“Can’t we talk about it, at least?”
“Your stepdad will be home for supper; we can discuss it then.” End of discussion, she’d evidently decided, and she went back to her precious crochet hook and baby project.
“I’d rather not talk about this in front of the whole tribe,” I spouted.
Mom’s head shot up. “Tribe? Since when do you refer to your family that way? Holly, what’s gotten into you?”
“I learned it in government class,” I said glibly. “A tribe consists of more than one family with common characteristics and interests, although in our case I’m not so sure.” With that, I got up and walked out of the room.
I could still hear Mom calling for me to “come back here— right now, young lady” as I slammed my bedroom door.
EIGHT IS ENOUGH
Slamming doors and spewing annoying words always got me in hot water. And I mean hot. Uncle Jack didn’t take too kindly to one of us sassing his bride of fourteen months. Mom, who was known to take occasional outbursts in her stride, had come down on me harder than ever.
Shoot, if I didn’t do some fast-talking—as in sincerely apologizing. I would be grounded from now to Valentine’s Day. Of course, I was smart enough to admit that I was wrong; Mom was right. Still, I chafed at their correction—their unified front.
“Your mother says you want to modify the calling rule,” Uncle Jack said as we settled into the downstairs family room for the intimate meeting. The rest of the family had been shooed away—upstairs. Mom and Uncle Jack sat on the sectional, halfway across the room from me. I observed them from the bottom step, where I’d chosen to sit, keeping a safe distance.
I got the ball rolling. “After school, I think I should be allowed to have two hours of freedom. To go to the library or do whatever. That would be perfect,” I said, hoping I sounded polite enough to wage a victory.
Mom spoke up. “It’s the ‘do whatever’ that has me concerned.” She sighed. “How do I know you won’t be hanging out at the mall?”
“What’s so wrong with that?”
“Holly,” Uncle Jack reprimanded me. “Watch your attitude.’
“But all my friends are allowed to do whatever they want after school. For as long as they want.”
“
All
your friends?” Mom asked.
“Well, you know,” I said. “I was just trying to make a point. Sorry.”
Uncle Jack frowned suddenly. “No, I don’t believe you are sorry, and until you can discuss things respectfully, your mother and I won’t be interested in any sort of compromise.”
Rats, I blew it.
I pulled myself up off the step. Being lectured to—no fun. Things around here sure weren’t anything close to the old days, before Uncle Jack had come along.
To be honest, I was sick of the super-private world he and Mom had created for themselves. Honeymooners? Lovebirds? Who cared! Their plans no longer seemed to include me. Maybe I was jealous; could that be it? Anyway, I seethed all the way up to my bedroom.
On Wednesday Paula brought her letter from Marty Leigh to school. I went wild with excitement, and Paula let me make a copy of it during lunch. Reading and rereading the letter was the high point of my entire week.
Unfortunately, the days flew by without another opportunity to talk about the after-school phoning rule with either Mom or Uncle Jack. Maybe it was just as well. Mom’s head was some-where in a blue or pink cloud called baby land, and Uncle Jack was just as preoccupied with his work.
First thing Saturday I met Paula and Kayla at the bookstore on Aspen Street. Bright anticipation shone from their eyes. “Holly!” they called to me. The girls were dressed in their typical weekend attire of blue jeans and warm sweaters. Their trendy ski jackets were new, Christmas presents probably.
“Looks like there’s no line,” I said, glad to see the twins.
“I can’t believe we’re the only Marty Leigh fans in town,” Paula said.
“All the better, my dears,” I chanted. “We want to be sure to get some pre-signed copies, right?” I peeked in the frosty window. “Hey, look! There’s a brand-new floor display loaded with books—it must’ve just arrived.”
“I know. I came by yesterday after school,” Paula said, “and the display was nowhere in sight.”
I shivered with excitement and from the cold. “This is going to be so cool.” Glancing at my watch, I knew we wouldn’t have to wait much longer to actually hold the books in our hands.
“I wish Marty Leigh would make more public appearances,” I said.
“High-profile authors usually only hit the big cities, don’t they?” Paula suggested.
I laughed. “Dressel Hills doesn’t exactly qualify for city status, but she was here the summer before last.”
A familiar face greeted us with an enthusiastic smile as the store manager unlocked the doors. “Good morning, young ladies,” he said. “I have a feeling you might be interested in my latest shipment. Am I correct?”
“Never more so,” Paula said as we scooted inside and dashed to the Young Adult section.
Kayla was first to find a book with the author’s autograph. “Here’s one with Marty’s full name and a special greeting.”
Paula and I crowded around her. “Oh, I hope there’re more,” I said, snatching up several from the display and finding the title page. “Fabulous! At least three books are signed.”
We stood there scrutinizing the cover and then flipped to the back and read the summary. Each of us held the treasured new books in our hands at last.
The book was about a girl named Tricia who’d decided she wanted to get to know her estranged father better and had initiated a joint-custody petition to the courts.
“This isn’t a mystery,” I said. “At least, it doesn’t seem like one.”
“Keep reading,” Kayla said.
“Why doesn’t Ms. Leigh come out with two or three books at a time?” Paula lamented. “Do you have any idea how fast I read these? Honestly, I cannot put them down!”
“Personally, I devour them,” Kayla said. “They’re addictive but in a good sort of way.”
I nodded. “I can only hope to write like her someday, with page-turning suspense and chapter cliff-hangers to die for.”
The twins exchanged secretive glances, grinning at each other. Paula reassured me that if I continued practicing my writing, I might offer Ms. Leigh some great competition someday.
Someday,
I thought as I waited at the cash register.
Someday, if there weren’t a screaming half sister or brother to anticipate, who’d eventually grow into toddlerhood with even louder noises and, heaven forbid, into a school-aged snooper like Carrie and Stephie.
Someday might never come. Unless . . .
I reread the summary on the back of the book, my mind spinning nearly out of control. It said right here that Tricia Joellyn Engle, the main character, needed space—a break from her mother and sisters. Why else would she go through all the trouble of pleading to live with her dad part of the year? Did Tricia really want to get to know her dad better? Or did she just need some breathing room?
Joint custody,
I thought.
Hmm, is this an option for me?
Daydreaming, I thought of the warm beach sand, the pounding waves, the natural, peaceful setting of Daddy’s beach house in Southern California. What better option could an aspiring young author have as a place to live and work?
The store manager’s voice broke into my thoughts. “Will that be cash today?”
I dug into my wallet. “Here you are. And thanks!”
“Thank you,” he replied.
Kayla and Paula suggested we hit The World’s Best Donut Shop before heading home. “But I’m dying to get home and read,” I said, hugging my book.
“You have all weekend for that.” Paula took my arm and nudged me forward down the snowy sidewalk. “Besides, we have a surprise for you.”
“A surprise?” I went willingly, of course. Curiosity ruled my life. “Aren’t you going to give me a hint?” We were within sniffing distance of the pastry shop.
“No hints,” Kayla said. “Just put on your best smile.”