Holly's Heart Collection Two (29 page)
Jared was right; Mr. Barnett began spreading the word to everyone involved in act one of the play. If possible, we were to meet in the choir room after school. I told Andie about it when I saw her at lunch. “It’s going to be so-o fabulous,” I said.
Still fuming, she pretended not to pay attention.
“Okay,” I said. “Have it your way. But I thought nuns took the vow of celibacy, not silence.” That got her going.
“Holly Meredith, you think you’re so smart because you got Maria’s part,” she retorted, looking to Stan for moral support. But he only made matters worse by waving Paula over to their table.
Andie made a face, but Stan laughed it off. “After all, if Paula’s going to be my girlfriend in the musical, don’t you think I oughta get acquainted with her?”
Leave it to Stan to get himself into hazardous situations. Andie began twisting a curl around her finger. Man, was he in trouble now!
“Just relax, Andie,” I heard Stan say as I turned to go. “It’s only a play.”
Only a play?
I thought. It was much more than that. It was the path that led to time with Mr. Barnett. And nothing—not Andie, and certainly not Jared—could keep me from walking it.
STRAIGHT-A TEACHER
A bunch of kids showed up for the read-through of act one. Students took turns sitting around a long table. I sat at the opposite end, away from Jared. Characters who appeared in later scenes sat on the risers, observing.
When it came time for the third scene, where Andie portrays the Mother Abbess, we cracked up. She really hammed it up, especially when she came to the part about Maria being a good choice for a governess. “Look here, Sister Maria twit,” she ad-libbed. “I’m sick and tired of the way you’re causing problems around here, trying to catch clouds, flibbity-jibbiting your way through morning prayers…” Andie crossed her eyes and looked down her nose at me, raising her voice to a ridiculously high pitch. “Are you catching my drift?”
“Andie,” Mr. Barnett cut in. “Please read your lines more carefully.
I snickered, watching his face, serious and drawn, loving every second of his putting Andie on the spot. She so deserved it!
When it was time for my lines, Mr. Barnett stopped me numerous times. Not likely because he had a problem with what I was doing, but because he wanted to interact with me. Why else?
On one occasion, he even acted out Jared’s part of the scene with me. I watched his face light up as we exchanged dialogue. Genuine interest seemed written all over his face. Was this the beginning of my dream come true?
Mr. Barnett gave final instructions before we left. “I want lines for this act memorized in two weeks.” I wondered how I’d juggle homework and a zillion lines between now and then.
I headed for the bus stop with Andie, Paula, and Kayla. That’s when Andie jumped all over me. “It’s really too bad you and Jared broke up, you know. This could’ve been so-o romantic,” she crooned.
Paula wasn’t quite as direct, but she had an opinion, all right. “I have a great idea. Why couldn’t you and Jared act a little friendlier offstage, at least for the sake of the play?”
Some nerve!
“Look, you two,” I said, irritated beyond my limits of mature behavior, “if you think Jared’s so fabulous and wonderful…well, have at him.” Boiling with anger, I pulled on my hair clasp, and my hair came pouring down. “He’s all yours.”
I halfway expected Paula to take me up on it. Not too long ago she’d been crazy over Jared. Now that he was free for the taking, though, she didn’t even seem interested.
I sat in the back of the bus by myself, while Andie and Paula crowded in with Kayla. Periodically, they turned and scowled their disapproval.
Fine,
I thought, staring at the backs of their heads.
Go ahead, behave like the children you are.
At home, Stephie met me at the front door, squealing her excitement. “I’m going to be in
The Sound of Music
!”
“That’s perfect,” I said, swinging her around. “We can practice the ‘Do-Re-Mi’ song together.”
She nodded, taking my hand and pulling me into the kitchen. Mom looked up from her desk in the corner.
“Mommy made snickerdoodles for us to celebrate,” Stephie announced.
“I think she’s become an addict,” Mom said, laughing. “Like you.”
I picked out three extra-round cookies before settling down at the bar. “Mmm, perfect.”
“Thought you’d be ready for something sweet,” Mom said, handing me an envelope. “This came in the mail today.”
I recognized the handwriting. “It’s from Daddy.”
I hurried to the knife rack and sliced the envelope open.
“Careful Maria doesn’t cut herself,” Stephie teased.
“Yes, Marta,” I answered.
Stephie seemed pleased with herself as she snatched up a handful of cookies and disappeared downstairs.
Letters from California were coming more frequently these days. Especially since Daddy’s visit to Dressel Hills a few weeks ago. Carrie and I had spent the entire day skiing with him, making happy memories. About time. More than five years had passed since he and Mom split up. We had some major catching up to do.
I pulled the letter out slowly, curious about Daddy’s life in California, as always.
Dear Holly,
Thanks for your letter. I always enjoy hearing from you. Carrie too. Please share this letter with her.
My reason for writing is to tell you some wonderful news. When you were here last Christmas, we talked about my investigation into the New Testament. Well, after many weeks of reading the gospels (several times, I must say), I’ve been pondering the teachings found in them.
Last week, I accepted Christ as my Savior during a Christian businessmen’s luncheon. I wanted you to be one of the first to know.
I stopped reading and looked over at Mom, who was sorting coupons at the kitchen desk. “Daddy’s become a Christian,” I said solemnly.
Mom leaped off the chair, coupons scattering everywhere. She peered over my shoulder.
“See?” I pointed to his words.
“That’s wonderful,” she said. Her smile warmed my heart.
I finished reading Daddy’s letter.
Many times I recalled your words, Holly, the ones you said that night in the Los Angeles chapel, nearly a year ago. Do you remember?
I stopped reading, thinking back. He and Saundra, his new wife, had come to hear me sing while I was on tour with the church youth choir in California. After the concert, Daddy and I talked quietly on the second pew of the sanctuary while the risers and sound equipment were being carried out to the bus. He’d held my hand as we discussed his sister, my aunt Marla, and her death. For a precious moment I had felt close to my estranged father.
I continued reading:
I’ll never forget what you said, Holly: “I’ve been praying for you all this time,” you told me. How grateful I am that you never gave up on your terrible old man.
What did he mean, terrible? He had no way of knowing what I knew about his and Mom’s divorce. In fact, it had only been a few weeks since Mom and I had the mother of all heart-to-heart talks. Shocking as the truth was, it boiled down to two major problems. Daddy had been determined to move to California. Wanted to uproot the family to pursue his career in another state without taking Mom’s aversion to big cities into consideration. She was stubborn, too, and wouldn’t agree to go. Ultimately, she sent him on ahead, by himself, secretly hoping he’d get his fill of the mad-dash executive lifestyle in a few months. But Mom’s plan backfired. Daddy had thrived on the fast pace and never returned.
At that time, neither of them was a Christian, and Mom found it difficult to give in to Daddy’s desire to move. But that wasn’t the only problem. My father was proud and sorely hurt. When Mom had a miscarriage and asked him to come back to Dressel Hills while she was hospitalized, Daddy refused. Evidently he wasn’t interested in having more children anyway, and his selfish reaction to her request was the straw that broke the marriage.
Stubborn and angry, they agreed to divorce, leaving Carrie and me without a father. And with a hollow ache in our hearts.
Of course, I didn’t know all this at age eight, but now I was much more mature. Was I mature enough to forgive Daddy for leaving? I sighed, thinking back to the many years of nightly prayers.
For Daddy…
For all of us.
I folded the letter and carefully slipped it back into the envelope. Daddy was a Christian now—the answer to my dearest prayer. So, why wasn’t I dancing for joy?
I joined Mom at the sink. She whittled away at a long, fat carrot, flicking curly shavings into a bowl.
“The Lord answered my prayer,” I said softly.
Mom nodded, and letting the peeler fall into the sink with a clatter, she reached out to me. For a long, sweet moment we held each other. Mom stroked my hair, whispering “Holly-Heart” over and over. Her soothing voice and her gentle perfume erased my worry. If only for a moment.
In a strange sort of way, the timing of his conversion upset me. It had taken all these years to find out the truth, and just when I was ready to unload on him, ready to fire questions at him about the rotten way he’d abandoned us, he decided to become a follower of Jesus Christ.
God had forgiven Daddy. Wasn’t I supposed to do the same?
STRAIGHT-A TEACHER
Supper was plain boring. Not because the Spanish rice and fixings weren’t delicious. It had to do with living in limbo, waiting for the weekend to melt into Monday, when I would see Mr. Barnett again.
Grabbing my journal, I let Carrie do kitchen cleanup while I headed for the porch swing to record my thoughts. The last rays of the sun warmed my back as I drifted back and forth, thinking through the amazing events of the past week. My attraction to Mr. Barnett was more than a silly crush. I was sure of it.
I opened my journal.
Friday, April 15. If my friends knew my secret, they’d die laughing. Especially Jared. Danny too. I’m sure Danny would think my feelings for Andrew Barnett are totally illogical. But so what? I don’t care!
I looked up, staring at the clouds. Logical or not, my feelings were strong. They’d been growing since Monday, when Andrew Barnett’s world collided with mine.
I lay down on the swing, letting its gentle swaying lull me into a daydreamy place where it was safe to concoct elaborate scenes. Warm, cozy scenes featuring Andrew and me. He looked into my eyes, sharing the secrets of his life, his dreams, his goals. Yet he seemed to see how wonderful I was, too.
Then we walked together, in a wooded area near a pond, talking about nature and life and God. He listened, admiring my adult view of life, and my faith. Beneath the moonlit sky, he held my hand, clasping it warmly in his.
Andie’s loud whistle caught me off guard. The daydream tumbled down as she plopped onto the chaise lounge across from me. “Whatcha doin’?” she asked, smoothing her Capri pants.
I sat up on the swing, stretching, surprised to see her. “Nothin’ much.” I held my journal close.
She glanced at me, wistful eyes acknowledging her curiosity. “Anything going on?” She pulled her knees up under her chin.
“Nope,” I said, wondering if now was a good time to test my secret on her. “Just catching up on my journal, that’s all.”
“Oh,” she said, her voice trailing off. “Thought I’d come over. Nothing’s happening at home. I tried to call…your phone’s tied up.”
“Stan’s hogging it,” I commented without thinking. Now she’d probably launch off on her jealous routine.
“Who with?” I was right, she
had
to know. “Better not be Paula. She gives me the creeps being Liesl in the play. You know she has that long, lovey-dovey scene with Stan.”
This was so childish. Why wasn’t I surprised?
“What do you think of Mr. Barnett?” I heard myself saying.
“Him?” Andie shrugged. “He’s okay, I guess. Might make a good teacher someday.”
“Might?” I snapped.
“He’s so…so serious. Kinda like you’ve been lately.” She was using one of her best tactics to get me talking.
“What’s wrong with that?” I crossed my legs and pulled them under me.