Holly's Heart Collection Three (49 page)
“Breathe,” Andie said to me over the applause.
And I did. Still, I could hardly believe we were up here. I mean, this was really big-time stuff!
None of us were too surprised when the all-girl choir from New York City took first place. They deserved the highest honors.
Later, at a glitzy ice-cream parlor, Mrs. Duncan congratulated us. “Most likely we won’t be going to Vienna in two months, but we’ve certainly accomplished a worthy goal. I know—and I speak for the principal and all the teachers at Dressel Hills High—you students are absolutely tops. And I’m so very honored to be your director.”
Now it was our turn to cheer her. And we did, complete with whistles from some of the guys.
Sean grinned, apparently thrilled to be in the middle of this celebratory commotion. Later, when things died down a bit and we could actually hear each other without shouting, he told me why he’d asked about Austria earlier. “Your father has some business there this summer,” he explained. “He wants me to go along.”
“Daddy’s going to Europe?” This was the first I’d heard of it.
“I’m going to assist him, I guess you’d say.” He smiled. “More as a traveling companion, though.”
“So my stepmom doesn’t want to leave Tyler?” He was her young son. “Is that why?”
Sean nodded. “Saundra thinks someone should be with your dad because of his heart problems.”
I sighed. “Well, lucky you.”
He held the door for me as we left the ice-cream place. “Who knows, maybe you’ll get there yet.”
“That would be nothing shy of a miracle—I mean, those New York singers aren’t going to miss out on the international competition. No way!”
“Miracles happen,” he replied. That would have been the last exchange of words between us if it hadn’t been for Mrs. Duncan—fabulous teacher that she was.
Discreetly, she came over and said the rest of the group would head on to the Metro station if Sean didn’t mind escorting me back to the hotel.
“Sure, I’ll be happy to,” he said gallantly.
The choir and sponsors strolled down the street, and when they were out of sight, Sean and I began walking slowly back to my hotel.
“Thanks for sharing the evening with me,” I began. “It was really special.” I almost said, “because of you,” but didn’t. I had a feeling he already knew.
“I wouldn’t have missed this for anything, Holly.” We looked out over the beautiful Potomac River in the distance. The sky still had a touch of color and light in it. “I wouldn’t have missed you.”
His words touched my heart. They were trustworthy and good. Just the way he was.
I was almost afraid to look up at him, worried that he might see in my eyes the things I felt.
“Do you mind if I call you occasionally?” he asked. “Is it okay with your family?”
I nodded. “It’s fine. I’d like that.”
“And we’ll keep writing, both regular letters and email.”
“Yes,” I whispered, scarcely finding my voice.
We were silent for a moment, listening to the sounds of dusk. Then he said, “Your director is really terrific, you know. Please tell her thanks for me.”
I glanced up at him, grinning.
He added, “Some teachers might’ve had a problem with our getting lost today.”
“I know what you mean. But Mrs. Duncan’s the best.”
He reached for my hand unexpectedly. “She’s actually quite terrific, but she’s not the best.”
I was looking into his face now, no longer bashful. But I was determined not to get emotional. Shoot, I wanted to be able to see this wonderful friend of mine clearly. Besides, tears on a night like this were way overrated.
“Well, I guess this is good-bye,” I offered. “Have a good flight home.”
“Thanks.” He turned to face the river then, our shoulders touching as we looked out toward the sunset. “More sightseeing tomorrow?”
“We’re scheduled to see the White House and the Capitol with our state senator.”
He teased, “Watch your camera!”
“Don’t worry.” We walked on slowly now. “I honestly thought you were going to be hauled off to jail today,” I said.
He chuckled. “We made some interesting memories together, didn’t we?”
“No kidding.”
“And,” he said softly, “hopefully they won’t be the last.”
I should’ve been prepared for what came next. He looked at me and said, “You’ll be in my prayers, Holly-Heart. I want God’s will for both of us, individually and otherwise.”
It was sweet. A direct result of the conversation we’d had earlier.
“I’ll be praying for you, too.” It was a promise I would keep.
IT’S A GIRL THING
We, the fabulous first runners-up from Colorado, toured the Red, Blue, and Green rooms of the White House the next morning. Then came the East Room, where the president held press conferences, followed by the State Dining Room. We received special treatment from our state senator because of our newly acquired status. Hotshot show choir members we were!
Somehow, he arranged for us to meet the Secretary of State, and later we “accidentally” ran into the First Dog, who seemed rather pleased about being made over by so many doting teenagers. I almost took a picture of the perfectly groomed pet to show to my ordinary fluff-ball kitty back home, but I remembered Sean’s advice about flash photography and refrained.
Overhead were enormous, crystal-laden chandeliers—one of the things that really grabbed me about this place. And the wide, wood molding around the fireplaces, doors, and windows. Maybe I was beginning to change my taste—old, historic things really were cool.
The Oval Office—the president’s workplace in the west wing—was off limits to the tour, of course, as were the First Family’s private quarters upstairs. I was curious what those rooms looked like, but having seen as much as I had here on the tour, my imagination took over. I decided the very next time anyone ran a special on the White House, I would tune in.
Overall, my assessment of the magnificent mansion was that it was old. Very old. Two hundred years old, to be exact.
“So, what did you think?” I asked Andie as we made our way outside afterward.
“Too stuffy. A house ought to be a place to relax.”
I smiled at her reaction. “Where you can put your feet up and not worry about it, right?” I thought of my dad’s elegant beach house in Southern California. Now, there was a study in serious interior design. But that was Daddy’s—and Saundra’s—style.
“Do you miss Sean?” she asked later, as we headed for Capitol Hill.
“He just left, for pete’s sake.” I purposely evaded the question. “Well, I have a feeling you’ll be seeing him again.” She tilted her curly head.
“He’s really very special.”
“I can see that,” Paula piped up.
“Hey, whoa—don’t forget about that dating book,” Kayla urged.
I grinned. “Get this. Sean’s planning to read it.”
Andie clutched her throat. “Oh no, it
is
serious.”
We joked about it, but underlying all of our talk was a sense of doing what was right. We were growing up, trying on new ideas—eager to follow what the Bible said. Yep, we were nearing the end of our freshman year, all right, more mature than ever. But we were far from the end of our coming-of-age.
Next year, and the next, we would attempt to keep our eyes on Jesus, the ultimate grown-up and best example. And, in years to come, we might tell our own children about how we’d tripped and fallen but gotten back up and plugged ahead.
Late Wednesday afternoon we arrived in Dressel Hills, tired but perfectly elated about the outcome of our trip. Mrs. Duncan couldn’t stop talking about how wonderful we were—musically and otherwise.
“I think she’s secretly hoping for a chance at Vienna,” Andie said as we waited in the baggage claim area.
Jared had overheard. “How could that ever happen?”
“Let her dream,” I answered. “She deserves it.”
“Yeah. Some people deserve it more than others.” And he was off to grab his bags, leaving us girls to wonder what he meant.
“That Jared,” Andie said as we pulled each other’s luggage off the conveyor, “does he ever say what he means?”
“He used to,” I chimed in. “Personally, I’m glad those days are over!”
Andie caught my eye. “You and me both.”
It wasn’t long before Uncle Jack, Carrie, and Stephie showed up. The girls squeezed in hard against me as my stepdad gave me a hug.
“We missed you, Holly,” Carrie said.
“We sure did!” Stephie remarked. “Mrs. Hibbard was—”
She stopped when her dad shook his head. “Our neighbor did her best” was all he said.
Carrie scrunched up her nose, and I figured there’d been some conflicts. Maybe with Stan. But I was smart enough not to go there.
We headed for the automatic doors and to the parking lot.
“Someone’s at home, waiting to see you,” Uncle Jack said as he loaded my suitcases into the back of the van.
“I can’t wait.”
Stephie grabbed my hand. “Oh, Holly, our baby’s so-o pretty!”
“Does she look like you?” I asked.
“Almost exactly,” Carrie said. “And Stephie doesn’t mind not being the baby of the family anymore.”
“I never said that,” wailed Stephie.
I winked at her, letting her push in beside me on the van’s second seat. “These things take time,” I whispered in her ear, and she leaned her head against my arm.
Carrie crawled up front, riding shotgun with Uncle Jack. “You just wait till you hold April,” she said, smiling back at me.
“She’s all cuddly and sweet,” my stepdad said. “But then, so were all of you at that age.”
“And we’re not
now
?” Carrie demanded.
He reached over and swished her long ponytail. “Now you’re cuddly and . . . and . . . sometimes a little bit sour.” It was just a joke, and Carrie loved it. We all did. Uncle Jack was so cool.
The biggest surprise came when I walked into the house. There, in the Boston rocker, sat Stan—holding April.
I couldn’t help it. I stared. Probably longer than I should’ve. “Wow, this is going to take some getting used to.”
“So get over it,” he muttered back at me.
“Hey, I think I must’ve missed something.” I knelt down beside Stan and touched the tiny hand sticking out of the blanketed bundle.