Holly's Heart Collection Three (50 page)
“You missed everything,” Stan said quietly. “But it made all the difference.”
The guys in my life—when would they ever start saying what they meant?
“Are you telling me you’re glad I went to Washington? That you wouldn’t have fallen in love with your baby sister if I hadn’t?”
He tried to conceal the smile. “Don’t be smug,” he said. “Wanna hold her?”
“What do
you
think?”
He stood up and let me sit in Mom’s rocker, then placed my sister gently in my arms. “Oh, April,” I cooed down into the precious, tiny face. “I’m so glad to meet you.”
“We changed her name,” Stan said flatly.
“How come?” I asked, shocked.
“She didn’t exactly look like an April,” he said.
I couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. “Well, she does to me,” I replied.
Carrie was giggling now. “Our baby has a nickname,” she chanted. “Can you believe it?”
That figured. Uncle Jack was the master giver of weird and wacky names.
“I almost hate to ask,” I said.
Mom came slowly downstairs just then, looking tired but radiant in her prettiest bathrobe. “Welcome home, honey.”
“Did you honestly change April’s name?” I asked as she kissed the top of my head.
She headed for the couch and Uncle Jack. “Modified it, I guess you’d say.”
“To what?”
“April-Love,” Stan said at last. “Because she reminds Mom of you.”
“Oh, really?” I studied the rosebud face. “Maybe it’s the shape of her chin.”
“I thought you said she looked like
me
!” Stephie insisted.
Uncle Jack put his arm around Mom and they snuggled, admiring their first child together—now asleep in my arms. “April is a combination of all of us.” And my stepdad went right down the line. “She has her mother’s eyes . . . and my good nature.”
We laughed, then settled down for the rest of his comments.
“She has Stan’s determination, Phil’s smarts, and Mark’s appetite.”
“Poor kid,” whispered Carrie.
“Now, hold on a minute,” Uncle Jack said. He looked at Mom and gave her a peck on the end of her nose. “The baby has Stephie’s dimples, Carrie’s little nose, and Holly’s . . .” He stopped, adding to the suspense. “She has Holly’s good heart— and that’s all there is to it.”
I made the chair rock gently and felt the first, sweet stirrings of tiny April. Here we all were together. The people who mattered most in my life . . . and this new little one.
“By the way, Stan,” I said, looking up, “thanks for what you did . . . helping me be able to go to Washington.”
“It was nothing” came the reply.
“Well, thanks anyway,” I repeated.
“Hey . . . whatever.” Stan was much too cool to show his true feelings, this brousin of mine. But maybe, just maybe, April-Love would help him with that macho stuff. From what I’d seen, she was already beginning to soften him up.
“Congratulations,” Mom said about show choir. “Wish we could’ve heard you sing.”
“Oh, you will,” I told her. “Mrs. Duncan has some big plans for us . . . media coverage, the works. Dressel Hills hasn’t heard the end of us yet.”
We sat there, taking turns talking. Later, Uncle Jack decided to have a short devotional. While he read from the Bible, I watched April’s wee face, noting the family marks. The set and color of Mom’s eyes, Carrie’s nose, and Stephie’s demure dimples . . . but most of all, the blessing of God.
Someday, I decided, if it was God’s will, I would have a husband and a family. Maybe it was a girl thing to be thinking like this. Or simply a direct result of having had a fabulous weekend with Sean. Whatever, it was a good thing. And so very right.
That night a big, white moon shone brightly through my window as I looked out over the mountains of the continental divide. I remembered watching for Santa’s elves to tiptoe over those mountains when I was a little girl. Of course, I was way beyond that now—too grown-up to believe in such childish things. I had better things to believe in.
Someone
to believe in. A Savior and friend—Jesus Christ.
When I slept in my own soft, four-poster bed, I dreamed I could hear the angels whispering “Holly-Heart” to me outside my window. And in their heavenly voices I heard the excitement of tomorrow—my future. The future that my all-wise heavenly Father lovingly held in His hands.
And in my sleep, I felt a flurry of joy.
Thanks to all who have helped to make the Holly’s Heart series a successful reality. I’m forever grateful to Charette Barta and Sharon Madison, who believed in Holly. Heart from her earliest beginnings, as well as to my superb editor, Rochelle Glöege, whose suggestions and encouragement are so valuable to me.
Big hugs to my terrific teen consultants—Shanna, Larissa, Mindie, Amy, Brandy, Cindy, Kelly, Jonathan, Janie, and Julie. With their fantastic ideas and input, they made the Holly’s Heart series even more fun to create!
Hurrah for my SCBWI critique group, as well as reviewer Barbara Birch, my witty sis, who dreamed up the idea of Holly and friends being snowbound at school.
Three cheers for my husband, Dave, whose thoughtful comments, loving support, and super sandwiches made this series possible.
And finally, my deep appreciation to my many fans who think Holly really
does
live somewhere in Colorado. Your many cards, letters, and email messages have brought joy and encouragement to this writer’s heart. I’ve enjoyed every minute spent writing Holly’s Heart just for you!
From Bev . . . to You
I’m thrilled that you’ve chosen to read Holly’s Heart. As my first young-adult protagonist, Holly Meredith remains dear to my heart, and I laughed and cried with her as I wrote every one of these books.
Holly-Heart and I have quite a lot in common. While growing up in Lancaster County, Pennsylvania, I wrote zillions of secret lists and journal entries (and still do!). I also enjoy my many e-pals, and sending snail mail letters and notes to encourage family and friends has always been one of my favorite things to do. And I know all about the importance of having a true-blue best friend. Mine was Sandi Kline, and while we didn’t have Loyalty Papers, we did write secret-coded messages to each other. Once, we even hid a few under the carpet of the seventh step leading to the sanctuary of my dad’s church!
Thanks to my books, I’ve had the opportunity to develop friendships with people of all ages, from the grade-schoolers who love my picture books to the teens and senior adults who enjoy my novels. Through the years, some of you have even written to confide in me or share some of the difficulties you’ve faced. Growing up can definitely be tough sometimes. I’ve always found hope in the words of Psalm 139, which describes the amazing love of our Creator-God. It’s comforting to know that the same God who formed us in our mother’s womb, who knows the number of individual hairs we’re washing and blow-drying each day, also sees the fears and concerns of our lives. Our heavenly Father sees and understands. What an enormous blessing that is!
To learn more about my writing, sign up for my e-newsletter, or contact me, visit my Web site,
www.beverlylewis.com
.
Only Girls Allowed:
More Fun Reads From
Beverly Lewis
