“It’s the truth, you can ask anyone here,” she said with a straight face.
“Why, you!”
Just then my pop can came rumbling down.
“Saved by a Pepsi,” she said, laughing.
I couldn’t help myself, I laughed with her. It dispelled the anger I’d bottled up inside me all week.
As I drank the soda, two more customers drove in. “Guess we’d better get busy,” I said, spotting a baby-blue Thunderbird.
“Wow, would you look at that,” Andie said, staring at the 1957 classic Thunderbird sports car. We stood there watching as Danny and Jared ran over to inspect the beautiful old car.
“Perfect, maybe now I can work in peace, without Danny breathing down my neck,” I muttered. I tilted my head back and took a long, slow drink of the ice-cold soda.
“Only if you’re lucky,” Andie snickered and ran over to check out the T-Bird.
Still sipping my soda, I straddled the log bench. That’s when the door on the car opened. Out stepped Mr. Barnett!
I swallowed my pop too fast and the fizz went up my nose. Coughing, I ran inside the gas station to the ladies’ room. I yanked on the toilet paper and blew my nose. Before I left, I checked my hair. It was no use. Embarrassed and nervous, I headed back outside.
“Holly,” called Danny, motioning to me. “Can you vac this one out?”
“Sure,” I said, hurrying over to the T-Bird.
Mr. Barnett was under the hood, showing Jared and Billy the engine. Danny, conscientious as always, began soaping up the car with his giant sponge.
I pressed the button on the vacuum canister and began to clean the inside of Mr. Barnett’s glorious old car. The two-seater had been refurbished, by the looks of things. Nothing this ancient could still be in such good shape. Pieces of lint and pebbles of dirt had found their way onto the floor of the driver’s side. Other than that, the interior was immaculate.
I balanced my pop can in one hand and gave the passenger’s side a going-over even though it looked spotless. It was obvious no one had sat there recently. Must mean he doesn’t have a girlfriend, I reasoned.
I could hear Mr. Barnett talking about the V-8 engine and how it could get up and go on the road. It struck me as special—taking time to introduce the guys to the mechanics of a fifties sports car.
Peeking through the crack in the hood, I could see Mr. Barnett’s face. Gentle, sweet. I leaned against the dash, sighing. Not wanting him to see me, I pretended to put my pop on the dash as an excuse for being so close to the windshield.
That’s when it happened. I accidentally pressed the button for the glove compartment, and it flew open.
“Oh no,” I whispered, fumbling to pick up its contents, hoping Mr. Barnett wouldn’t choose this moment to close the hood. As long as it was up, with him under it, showing off the engine, I was safe.
Hurriedly, I stuffed a note pad and pen, several maps of Colorado, and an address book back into the roomy compartment. I checked under the seat to make sure I’d found everything. Two snapshots had strayed from sight, and I reached to rescue them. Pulling them out of hiding, I stole a quick look.
Mr. Barnett and a beautiful woman posed on an arched bridge over a small stream. Willow trees draped their branches around the smiling couple. I swallowed hard as I shuffled the second photo on top. The people looked the same, but this time Mr. Barnett had his arms around the slender woman, hugging her playfully.
Ka-whack! The hood came down. Startled, I jumped, dropping the pictures. Mr. Barnett was coming around the driver’s side. He’d catch me snooping for sure.
Without thinking, I slammed the glove compartment and bent the pictures just enough to let the vacuum hose suck up the evidence.
“Holly!” Mr. Barnett called over the noise of the vacuum. “I had no idea you were in here.” He leaned on the window, smiling warmly.
Forcing a smile, I punched the Off button on the vacuum, thinking only of the swallowed-up pictures, deep inside the cavernous cleaner. “I like your car,” my boring words came out. It’s hard to be eloquent when you’re frantic with worry, not to mention having to deal with the pain of coming face-to-face with your competition.
Snapshot or not.
“Who’s collecting the bucks for the wash job?” Mr. Barnett asked, admiring the work Danny had done.
“You can give the money to me,” Danny said. “I’ll see that it gets into the Bible quiz fund.”
Mr. Barnett came around to my side of the car, where I was securing the vacuum cleaner attachments, preparing for the next job. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled a ten-dollar bill from his billfold. I couldn’t help noticing the face of the woman in the front of his billfold, safely snuggled in the little wallet window. The same woman.
I drew a faltering breath as I looked away, enduring the heart pain. Why hadn’t I suspected something like this before?
Andie came over just then. “You look tired,” she said. “Why don’t you take a break?”
“I need to check the vacuum cleaner.” I rolled it away from Mr. Barnett’s car. Andie followed me as Danny and Mr. Barnett stood talking. I whispered to Andie through clenched teeth, “Stand in front of me and don’t make a big deal about this.”
Her eyebrows gathered into a frown. “What’s going on?”
I wanted to cry. “Just don’t say anything,” I warned her, reaching inside the canister’s cone and pulling out the snapshots. “Whew, that was close.” I wiped the dust off the pictures with my shirttail. “They’re only slightly bent.”
I heard Mr. Barnett start his car and let the engine idle. Without rehearsing my words, I dashed over to the passenger’s side of the car, waving the pictures.
He leaned over and wound down the window, looking puzzled.
“These got vacuumed up, accidentally.” It was the truth. Sort of.
“That’s weird, but thanks.” A slight frown appeared.
“I’m really sorry, Mr. Barnett. I’ll be happy to pay you for reprints, or whatever,” I offered.
He took the pictures from me. “Don’t worry about it, Holly.” He looked up at me, smiling, and I felt even worse about what I’d done.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, wiping my forehead on my sleeve.
Andie called to me, “Who was supposed to pick up hamburgers for everyone?”
“Oh, that’s what I forgot,” I said. “I’ll run down to McDonald’s and be back in no time.”
“Why do that?” Mr. Barnett said. “I’d be glad to drive you.” He leaned over and opened the car door. “What about you, Andie?” He looked at her. “Ever ride in an old jalopy?”
Andie shook her head. “We’re a little shorthanded here. But thanks.” She waved, grinning from ear to ear. I knew what was going through her mind. She’d declined so I could be the one to ride with Mr. Barnett. And I loved her for it.
One of my daydreams had come true. Maybe Mr. Barnett would whisk me away, dump the other girl, of course, and we’d live happily ever…
I hesitated, leaning on the car door.
“The jalopy’s safe, Holly,” he teased. “I rebuilt the engine myself.” He opened the glove compartment and pushed the pictures out of sight.
My heart skipped a beat. And without another thought, I stepped into Mr. Barnett’s Thunderbird.
STRAIGHT-A TEACHER
Chapter 10
The breeze from the windows blew my hair as we rode toward Aspen Street. The Golden Arches was only a mile or so away. I tried to imagine what it would be like to someday go on a date with Mr. Barnett, maybe with the convertible top down, the wind blowing our hair, his arm resting on the back of my seat.
He glanced at me as we stopped for a red light. “What do you think of my great-aunt’s Thunderbird?”
“Well, I’ve never really seen one this close before,” I said. “But I think your aunt has good taste in old cars.”
“Better than that,” he said with a smile. “She left it to me in her will. I doubt she kn
ew the value of it, though.”
“Looks like she took good care of it.”
“Aunt Edna was like that. She hung on to all kinds of things. My sister does the same thing.” He chuckled softly. “Those pictures you rescued,” and he pointed to the glove box, “are of my sis and me outside Aunt Edna’s place, before my aunt died last year.”
“Your sister?” My heart sang. “She’s beautiful,” I said, certain I would never have admitted that if she’d turned out to be his girlfriend.
“Janna’s five years older than I am. She’s finishing up a double master’s program this quarter,” he said proudly.
“I’m impressed.” I pushed a strand of hair back behind my ear, wondering how I was doing holding up my end of the conversation.
He leaned his arm out the window. “She’s a very special girl.” He paused. “You remind me of her when she was your age.”
Things were so comfortable between us, like we’d known each other all our lives.
“How’s it feel having an older sister?” I asked.
“Oh, things aren’t much different than if she and I were close in age. At least not now. I guess that’s the way it is…as people grow up, the age barriers drop away.” He signaled to turn. “I see that Danny fellow is hanging around,” he continued.
I knew what he was getting at. “Yeah, Danny and I were pretty close last summer,” I said.
“Looks to me like he’s still interested.”
I sighed, wanting desperately to change the direction of our conversation. “Actually, Danny and I are just good friends now.” I had to let Mr. Barnett know, in no uncertain terms, the status between Danny and me. I relaxed a bit as we pulled into McDonald’s.
“Danny’s older, right?”
“Only a year,” I said, wishing we’d get off this subject.
“Well, I have a question for you, Holly. What do you think of age differences…when someone likes the other person but isn’t totally certain the feelings are mutual?” He paused, turning off the ignition, looking at me.
Could it be he was thinking of us, our age difference?
“I’ve read about relationships where one person’s lots older.” I hesitated, trying to remember the book I’d read. “I think it helps if one of them gives the other a sign.”
He looked blank, confused.
I tried to explain. “You know, a sort of message…from one heart to another.” It sounded corny, but it sure worked in the book. Besides, it gave me a fabulous idea.
We walked into McDonald’s together, and when he held the door for me, I felt more grown-up than I ever had. In fact, I was so busy thinking about what Mr. Barnett had said, I could scarcely manage to answer when he asked how many hamburgers to order.
On the way back to the car wash, I clasped the large sacks of warm cheeseburgers and fries. My mind felt numb, paralyzed by a desire to let Mr. Barnett know how special he was to me. But how?
He turned on the radio to the only oldies station in Dressel Hills. His smile made my heart leap. “So what do you think, riding in a hot old T-Bird?”
I shook my head, not quite able to look at him, but the warm, easy way about him unlocked my brain and I heard myself say, “Thanks for driving me to McDonald’s.” It wasn’t what I really wanted to say. Not even close.
“My pleasure.” He turned onto the street where the rest of the car wash crew was probably dying of starvation. Precious seconds were slipping away as Aunt Edna’s classic Thunderbird sports car purred down the tree-lined street.
“When do we start blocking the musical onstage?” I blurted, longing to fill each remaining moment with the sound of his voice.
He nodded. “Very soon. And we’ve got such a fantastic cast,” he said, flashing his grin at me. “You’re perfect for Maria, you know.”
I blushed. “Thanks. I really like this musical.”
We drove into the car wash area, and Danny and Jared came running up like raving maniacs before Mr. Barnett could stop the car. So typical of boys their age. By the way they were salivating, you’d think they hadn’t eaten in days. They grabbed several sacks overflowing with cheeseburgers and fries and headed for the shade of the gas station. Andie, Paula, and Kayla came dashing over as I got out of the car. Amy-Liz, Joy, and Shauna were close behind.
“Thanks again, Mr. Barnett,” I called, keeping things businesslike, hoping no one would accuse me of being teacher’s pet today.
“I hope your church makes a lot of money for the quiz team.”
“Good-bye,” I said.
“I’ll see you Monday,” he called, honking his car out on the street. All of us waved as he sped away.
“I’ll see you Monday” still echoed in my brain as I handed three sacks of food to the girls. “There should be plenty for everyone,” I said.
“What, no ketchup?” Andie asked, digging into the sack.
“It’s in there somewhere,” I said, following her over to the grassy area behind the gas station.
We girls sat together, gobbling down our lunch. Several parents from the church took over the car wash operation while we ate. And Danny, eating with the guys, kept glancing over every so often. Now what was he thinking?
After we finished eating, I dragged Andie into the ladies’ rest room. “We have to talk,” I whispered.
“I’m dying for details. And don’t tell me your brain froze up and you forgot them.”
“There’s no way I’ll ever forget,” I said, locking the bathroom door behind us. “I’ve stored his words away forever.” I patted my heart.
“Spare the dramatics,” she said. “Get to the facts.”
I told her everything, even what Mr. Barnett had said about age difference not being a problem.
“You’ve got to be kidding! You’re sure he was talking about you two?”
“Cross my heart, and hope—”
“Don’t say that, Holly. Grow up,” she said.
“I have.” At that moment, I felt sure Mr. Barnett and I would be together. Someday.
STRAIGHT-A TEACHER
Chapter 11
It didn’t take long to think through my plan once I arrived home. In the safety of my bedroom, a deliciously warm feeling settled over me as I wrote in my journal.
Saturday, April 23: This is the best day of my life! Something fabulous happened today. I rode in Andrew Barnett’s beautiful baby-blue Thunderbird, just the two of us. Even more amazing, Mr. Barnett brought up age differences in relationships—ours, of course. I must let him know that I agree that our age difference won’t always be a problem. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he waited for me? I have the most fabulous idea. More later…
I tucked my diary safely away in my bottom dresser drawer. That’s when I heard Mom’s little dinner bell.
“Supper will be ready in fifteen minutes,” she called.
I grabbed some clean clothes and raced to the bathroom, hurrying to clean up. While in the shower, I decided I would compose my written response to Andrew Barnett after supper. It should be anonymous. Besides, he’d surely know it was from me.
After supper, Carrie and I brought the leftovers from the dining room into the kitchen. “Have you written back to Daddy yet?” she asked.
“I’ve been too busy,” I said, not eager to talk about it. “Haven’t had time with all the rehearsals for the musical.”
“Mommy told me that Grandma Meredith says he’s going to church every Sunday.”
“That’s good.” And it really was, but I still couldn’t deal with my hidden anger toward him. He’d hurt my mother big time, and now that I knew exactly what had happened to cause the divorce, I couldn’t just overlook his sins and forgive him. Only God could do that.
“Saundra goes along to church with him sometimes,” she continued. “Tyler too.”
“Really? That’s great.” I’d been hoping my stepmother might open up to spiritual things. And I wasn’t surprised about Tyler. He’d been full of questions about God and creation and the Bible ever si
nce day one—since last summer, when I first went to California to visit Daddy.
Carrie headed back into the dining room, nearly bumping into Mom, who looked slightly peeved at Uncle Jack. He was piled high with plates. Dirty napkins were scrunched under one hand. He tossed a strained grin at Mom. “Here comes the other partner in the Share the Housework Team,” he said.
“After nearly five months of marriage, it’s about time,” she said sarcastically.
With great fanfare, he balanced the dirty dishes, placing them carefully on the counter. Hurrying over to the freezer, he pulled out the ice-cube trays. “Aha, just as I thought. Empty again!” And with boyish delight, he rushed to the sink and filled the trays with water, as though he were doing something very important for the family.
Mom looked like she wanted to continue scowling, but when Uncle Jack closed the freezer, with the newly filled ice-cube trays safely tucked away, he tiptoed over to Mom and gave her a hug. She giggled as he planted a kiss on her neck, and I knew their tiff over household chores was past.
I didn’t see what the big fuss was anyway. After all, I’d seen Uncle Jack helping around the kitchen occasionally, fixing meals. If you can classify meals as something involving important ingredients like peanut butter and jelly. I’d seen him help in the kitchen at least three or four times since they’d married. So what was the big deal?
Maybe the honeymoon stage was starting to dissipate. Maybe now they would start acting normal. Like other married people.
I heard Mom say, “Can we talk?” while smothered in Uncle Jack’s arms.
It was my cue to disappear, dishes or not. Thrilled at the chance to exit, I ran to my room.
Closing the door, I wished for a lock, but the lack of one didn’t keep me from pulling out my prettiest stationery and settling in at my desk. Important stuff like this must be thought out carefully, so I wrote the first draft on scratch paper.
At last, I was ready to transfer my words to my flowery paper, which just happened to have hearts scattered all around.
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