Holly's Heart Collection Two (35 page)
Sunday—
gasp!
—he showed up at my church wearing a dark suit and classy tie. Since I’d never seen him dressed up that much, I nearly fainted on the spot.
Andie spotted him, too. “Would you look at that,” she said, gawking at him across the foyer.
“Quiet,” I whispered.
“He’s come to take you away,” she teased.
“Yeah, right,” I said. “Go sit with your mother.”
“See ya.” And she turned and headed toward the inside doors, with a quick glance back at me.
Just as I was reaching for the church bulletin, Mr. Barnett came up to me. “Good morning, Holly. What’s on the program for today?”
Program?
Was he for real?
I shuffled through the bulletin, aware of my increasing anxiety—maybe because Mr. Barnett was standing so close. “Here. It looks like our senior pastor is speaking. You’ll like him,” I said, smiling.
Mr. Barnett hesitated slightly. Then he said, “I thought I’d sit with Stan if he won’t mind.”
“No problem. Follow me,” I said, giddier than ever. I led him down the aisle, to our family’s pew. Stan was sitting on the end. I poked him. “Hey, cuz.”
He looked up.
“Mr. Barnett is visiting our church, and he’d like some company,” I whispered, gesturing toward our teacher.
Stan smiled and said hello to Mr. Barnett, then slid over to make room. Thank goodness he wasn’t making a big deal of this.
I caught Andie’s glance across the church as I sat down at the end of the pew—next to Andrew Barnett. I wasn’t sure, but it looked like—for once—she was close to fainting.
If sitting in church on a springtime Sunday with the main focus of my affection wasn’t enough, on Monday during choir he asked me to stay after class. He needed to see me about something. Fabulous! Maybe that would be a good time to give him my gift.
Gingerly, I set my school bag down on the riser as we warmed up for sectionals. Neither Andie nor Paula asked about the obvious bulge. My Pistachio Plan was perfect, and in just fifty minutes, Mr. Barnett would know the truth.
After class, Mr. Barnett had a question about my style preference for a wedding gown. For the wedding scene in the musical, of course.
“Footloose and Fancy Things has some fabulous gowns,” I said. “In fact, they might loan one to the school just for the play.”
“In exchange for free advertising, perhaps,” he said. “Good thinking, Holly.”
Billy Hill and some other boys stood at the door just as I was about to present my gift. Mr. Barnett went over to them; his back was turned to me.
Without hesitation, I pulled out the plastic container filled with his favorite kind of nuts. I glanced at the gift card I’d found for him at Explore Bookstore. It was signed:
Love, H.
Gently, I placed the nut-filled bowl on his desk.
The door closed and Mr. Barnett came smiling back to me. “What’s this?” he asked, obviously delighted.
“I, uh…I brought this for you.” Butterflies played tag in my stomach.
“Incredible.” He reached for the card.
For a moment, I waited, dying for his reaction.
When he had read the card, he glanced up, grinning. “That Miss Hess! Did she put you up to this?”
“I…er, I—” It was hopeless, the words were stuck. And this might be my last chance to tell him, face-to-face, how I felt.
For what seemed like a never-ending moment, we just looked at each other. Then suddenly the intercom crackled. “Mr. Barnett, you have a phone call. Can you take it in the office?”
He turned to face the speaker high on the wall. “I’ll be right down.” Then, beaming at me, he said, “Thanks for taking time to play delivery girl. You’re really very sweet.”
After he left, I stood there, stunned. Staring at the Pistachio Plan—make that Total Flop—on his desk, I felt numb. Sick.
Not again!
STRAIGHT-A TEACHER
The next four weeks were a total nightmare. Everywhere I turned, Mr. Barnett was there. At practice every day. In my dreams at night. And, as before, in my daydreams. But I didn’t dare make an attempt to tell him how I felt. Not after two plans had so totally failed. I’d be testing fate to try again.
To make matters worse, the practice schedule escalated to every day after school and three evenings a week! Lines had been memorized, but now came the emphasis on facial expressions and body movements. Mr. Barnett got right in there and worked us through all the important inflections.
Character dynamics were essential, too. Stephie, my stepsister, was a superb little Marta—my youngest charge as the governess, Maria. Our interaction onstage reflected the close relationship we had at home. Same with Stan. Andie, Paula, and I were close friends, so working together onstage was a cinch for us, too.
With the constant practicing, even Jared and I were actually developing a good working relationship. And offstage, he hardly ever flirted with me. Well, not much, at least.
As for Mr. Barnett, I couldn’t summon the courage to tell him the truth about the pistachio nuts, but it was obvious by the trail of shells on his desk that he was enjoying them.
Finally it was the afternoon of May 27: dress rehearsal. We performed in front of the elementary school down the street from my house. Carrie and our stepbrothers, Phil and Mark, sat in the audience with their respective classes. From their talk at breakfast that morning, I knew they were as excited as Stephie and I.
I peeked through the curtains, looking for my brothers and sister, hoping to dazzle them and their friends with my rendition of Maria. More than anything, though, I intended to impress Mr. Barnett.
At the end of each scene, the kids clapped loudly. They seemed to like Jared’s introduction of his children with his weird whistle calls. But Jared had seemed a little out of it. And his face looked awfully pale.
Backstage, before final curtain calls, Mr. Barnett said this was our best performance yet. “Now tonight, keep your audience in mind as you say your lines.” He was a stickler for enunciation. “If they can’t understand you, we’re toast.”
Danny nodded. He ought to know, after the tons of eavesdropping he’d been doing on our performances. Guess that’s the way it had to be as stage manager, though. Knowing who was where and what was what. He was good.
Still, I had eyes for only one person. And as Mr. Barnett talked, I longed for a way to share my true feelings. A foolproof way—one that wouldn’t flop.
After a quick taco salad for supper, Mom flew around the house getting Stephie ready for our big production.
“I’m really scared,” Stephie said.
“You’ll be fine,” I said, squeezing her around the waist.
Carrie helped Stephie carry her things to the van. The rest of the family planned to come later, in time for the best seats.
When I arrived at the dressing room, Andie was all aflutter. “What if I forget my lines?” she worried.
“It’ll never happen,” I said. “You think so fast on your feet, Andie, you could make it up if you forget.”
“How’s it feel getting married to Jared onstage in front of everyone?” Paula asked with a grin.
“You would ask that,” I said. “How’s it feel kissing my cousin?” I thought about Stan and Paula onstage as the love-struck couple, Liesl and Rolf.
Andie jerked away from the mirror, horrified. “Who’s kissing?
Paula giggled. “Don’t worry, Andie, we’re only faking it.”
“Yeah, well, don’t get too close.” She wasn’t kidding.
“Don’t worry,” Paula said. “Billy asked to take me to the cast party tomorrow night.”
I leaped up, hugging her. “Really? You and the butler?”
Andie smiled. “You’ll like him. We were close friends for a while last year, before Stan moved here.”
“Hello?” someone called through the dressing-room curtain.
I looked around. “Everyone decent?”
“Go for it,” Andie called.
I moved back the curtain, poking my head out. And there he stood, looking absolutely fabulous in his tan business suit—even the silk hankie matched his tie. “Daddy!” I cried, letting the curtain go as we hugged.
“This is your big night, Holly,” he whispered. “I couldn’t miss it for the world, could I?”
I grinned with excitement. “I can’t wait till you see the show!”
“Well, the place is filling up fast,” he said. “I’ll be praying for you.”
“Thanks, I need it.”
He held my hand, and for a moment I thought of the pain he’d caused our family. The lousy way he’d treated Mom…
His eyes searched mine. “What is it, honey?”
Instead of launching my questions, probing into the pain of the past, I reached out and hugged him again. Bone hard, like Mom hugs me sometimes. “I love you, Daddy,” I whispered. “That’s all. Just…I love you.”
In his arms, the need to confront him disappeared, and my heart overflowed with forgiveness and joy for his newfound faith in God. Slowly, I pulled away. “I’d better get my makeup on.”
“Break a leg, Holly-Heart.” Smile lines creased his face.
“Thanks.”
The musical might have been called
The Flight of the Butterflies
, the way my stomach flip-flopped before curtains. Packed to capacity, the auditorium was a sellout. And to think my father had come all the way from California to see me!
My hands felt damp and my heart pounded as I listened to the buzz of the crowd. If only Gabriel would blow his trumpet right now.
Then the overture began, with gentle woodwinds setting the mood, followed by the fuller sound of strings. The joyous melody swelled to a crescendo, soothing me. As I took my place onstage, waiting for the rush of rising curtains, I sent up a silent prayer.
Act one, scene one, the hills of Austria. Exhilarated by the excitement of the crowd, I spun around at center stage, swinging my arms wide and singing the theme song, “The Sound of Music.”
Mr. Barnett watched from the orchestra pit. His face, the way it shone in the stage lights, spurred me on to greater heights.
Oh, if only I could tell him my true feelings before he leaves,
I thought as the orchestra played my interlude. Time was running out. Student teachers don’t stick around forever. School would soon be out for the year. How could I pull it off?