Holly's Heart Collection Three

by Beverly Lewis

  “Eight pounds and eleven ounces . . . she’s filled out beautifully . . . and pink! I don’t know when I’ve seen a prettier newborn baby.”

  “I can’t wait to hold her.”

  “Stan will have to bring all of you up to the hospital after school.”

  With the mention of “school,” my alarm clock went off in my room. I could hear its muffled yet shrill tones coming through the door.

  “I think I’d better spread the news here,” I said. “Besides, I’ve never had to get this many kids off to school by myself.”

  “What do you mean?” He sounded irked. “Isn’t Stan pulling his share of the load?”

  Do I dare tell on him? I sighed, trying to decide what to do.

  “Holly? What’s going on?”

  Desperate for some adult intervention, I struggled. “I guess . . . I think things’ll be okay.”

  “You think?”

  “Oh, it’s probably no big deal.” I could feel myself caving in. “But Stan and I are kinda on the outs right now. He doesn’t see why he should have to help so much—it’s ‘women’s work.’”

  Uncle Jack chuckled. “Stan said that?”

  “In so many words.”

  “Well, that’s going to stop, and I’ll be the one to see to it.”

  I groaned. “Stan will never let me live this down.”

  “Don’t you worry, kiddo. I’ll handle this.”

  We said good-bye and I made a mad dash for the bathroom. I figured if I showered before Carrie and Stephie got up, most everything else would go smoothly.

  I thought wrong.

  First of all, nobody wanted to get up. Secondly, I looked everywhere for the plug-in—the electric frying pan didn’t work without it—but found nothing. This meant nobody would be having any protein, as in bacon or sausage, with their breakfast. Not today.

  “Why don’t you make waffles, like Mom does?” Carrie hollered from the nearest barstool.

  “Why don’t you keep your ideas to yourself?” I snapped. “We don’t have time.”

  “Yeah, you didn’t get up quick enough,” Stephie said, pouting.

  “Neither did you.” I motioned for her to wash the toothpaste off her chin. “Today’s going to be a cereal and toast day, and if anyone has a problem with it, he or she can sign up for extra chores.”

  Mark’s eyes bugged out, and he marched out of the kitchen and into the dining room, obviously upset.

  Phil adjusted his wire rims and gave me a pensive, academic stare. “Has anyone seen the Wall Street Journal?”

  “It’s probably still out on the driveway,” I replied. “If you want it, go get it.”

  “Eew, she’s mad,” Stephie whispered to Carrie, showing her dimples.

  I turned around, handed her a full carton of milk, and smiled as sweetly as I possibly could under the circumstances. “Not mad, sweetie, just ticked OFF!” Somehow my voice had taken on a life of its own, creating its very own crescendo.

  And Stephie jumped back in response to it, spilling milk all over herself. And I mean all over.

  “Hurry, somebody get some towels!” Then I began to shriek for Stan, who had not yet made his morning appearance. “Get your tail out here and help me!” It wasn’t just any plea; it was a full command.

  Of course, Stan didn’t appear on cue. Not our too-good-to-lift-a-finger-when-most-needed eldest sibling. Nope. He sauntered into the kitchen a good three minutes later while Carrie, Stephie, and I were down on our hands and knees mopping up the floor with bath towels from upstairs—with a little help from Goofey, too.

  “Mom’s gonna have a cow if you don’t get this milky smell out of her good towels,” Carrie informed me.

  “It wasn’t my idea to use the best ones in the house,” I shot back. “Besides, you know where the washing machine is, right?”

  She got the message and whined as she carried the drippy, milky towels, all rolled up in the largest mixing bowl I could find, downstairs to the laundry room.

  “Whew, what a morning,” I said, trying to avoid eye contact with Stan as I stood up.

  He was tiptoeing around the yucky floor, heading for the dining room with a bowl of dry cereal in hand. “We all out of milk?” he had the nerve to ask.

  I didn’t even justify his stupidity with an answer. The guy was a washout! As a stepbrother . . . as a human being!

  Turning my attention to Stephie, I guided her back upstairs to the bathroom, where she began to undress. I drew some warm bathwater to expedite things.

  “Will I be late for school?” she asked tearfully.

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “Will you write a note for my teacher if I am?” she pleaded.

  I thought about that. Did I have the right to do such a thing? “We’ll see,” I said, attempting to reassure her. “Maybe Daddy will come home and surprise us. I’m sure he’ll be needing a warm shower and a change of clothes this morning.”

  She smiled. The thought of her dad showing up on a hectic school morning must’ve warmed her heart. I know it did mine.

  And as it turned out, Uncle Jack made it home in time to kiss all of us good-bye.

  “We’ve got us a new baby.” He beamed.

  I wanted to ask if maybe, just maybe, I could possibly start thinking about packing for the choir trip tomorrow—that maybe he and Stan could alternate running the family until next Wednesday, when Mrs. Duncan and our show choir flew back home to Dressel Hills.

  But no, I was overcome with shyness and a bit of dread. And not wanting to confront Stan with my brain wave right in front of our dad, I kept my mouth shut and headed off to school.

  IT’S A GIRL THING

  Chapter 11

  Andie was a whirlwind of chatter when I caught up with her in the hall. “What’s the deal?” she asked, almost demanding an answer. “I mean, your mom’s had her baby, so what’s keeping you here?”

  “It’s complicated.” I sighed, not wanting to rehash things.

  She stared at me, wrinkling up her face. “I don’t get it. What’s the problem?”

  “Let’s just say: Be glad, be very glad, you are not Stan’s girlfriend.”

  “Huh?” Her face wore a giant frown. “Holly, you’re not making a bit of sense.”

  “Take it from me: He would be an unfit husband if you and he ever ended up married. And that’s all I’m saying.” I turned to go.

  “Whoa. What’s this about?”

  I glanced back at her, spouting over my shoulder, “Stan’s the key. He’s the reason I can’t go.”

  “Stan?” She was running after me now. “Why him?”

  “The boy’s got no sense of responsibility. He refuses to help at home. I’m stuck here because I’m the only mature offspring presently able to handle things for my parents.”

  She stopped with me at my locker. “What if I had a little talk with Stan?”

  Shaking my head, I made her vow not to breathe a word. “Don’t you dare. He’s already a royal pain, and if you start hammering away at the shoulds and shouldn’ts of his life, it’ll just cause more trouble for me.”

  She reluctantly agreed. “When will you know if you’re going or not?”

  “As it stands this minute, it’s been decided—I’m not.”

  “So”—her dark eyes grew wide and she twisted a curl with her pointer finger—“are you saying we have one day to turn this whole thing around?”

  Leave it to Andie. I hugged her hard. Never, ever had there been a better friend.

  Suddenly I remembered the promise Uncle Jack had made on the phone earlier. “I’ll work on Uncle Jack,” I said, “if you’ll pray . . . really pray!”

  “And you’re positive I shouldn’t say anything to Stan?”

  “Absolutely.” I fumbled for the cell phone in my pocket. “Sorry to cut this short, but I have to make a quick call.”

  “No problem,” she said. “I’ll catch you later.”

  I flipped open the phone and hit the speed dial.

 
“You have reached the residence of a very proud father,” Uncle Jack said first thing.

  “Hey, that’s a nice touch.” I laughed.

  “Holly? Is everything all right at school?”

  “Sure is.” Now that I had him on the line, I didn’t know how to begin or what to say.

  “Something on your mind?” he asked.

  I said it. Came right out and asked, “Did you talk to Stan this morning about, uh . . .” I paused, suddenly at a loss for words.

  “Oh that. Yes, we intend to work things out after school, probably sometime tonight.”

  Tonight? Too late.

  “Oh.”

  “Well, if that’s all you called about, kiddo, I’m real anxious to get back to the hospital.”

  “Okay, well, bye.” I hung up. Nothing had been settled. I’d have to tell Andie that things looked bleaker than ever. As far as I could see, it would take more than a miracle for me to be on the plane to Washington, D.C.

  Tomorrow.

  I was attempting to follow one of Mom’s outstanding recipes for chicken and rice when the phone rang.

  Carrie caught it on the first half of the ring. “Meredith-Patterson funny farm,” I heard her say from the kitchen.

  “Carrie!” I reprimanded, only to witness a stream of giggles. My sister was definitely puberty-bound.

  “It’s for you,” she called.

  “Who is it?”

  “Andie—she needs you.” She peeked around the corner of the dining room, making a smirk.

  I washed and dried my greasy hands. “I’ll get it out here,” I informed her and picked up the portable phone.

  “How’s kitchen duty?” Andie joked when I answered.

  “Very funny.”

  “Any news?”

  “About?”

  “You know . . .” She was too eager for an affirmative answer.

  “Well, for starters, Stan’s in his room and Uncle Jack’s not home yet, so there’s nothing new.”

  “I suggest you do your laundry and start packing, just in case,” she advised. “You never know what might happen.”

  “I can just imagine what might happen. The house could burn down and everyone will go hungry if Stan’s in charge. You know, I’m actually starting to think maybe I should just stay put.”

  “Holly! How can you say that?”

  I went to the archway between the kitchen and the dining room and poked my head in, scouring for snoopers. And sure enough, Carrie was sitting, knees squashed up to her chin, under the table—eyes wide.

  “Excuse me a sec, Andie,” I said, making a big deal about this even though I wasn’t really that upset. I figured I ought to set a precedent since I was the only one in charge at the moment. I covered the receiver with my hand. “Carrie Meredith—out of there!”

  “You sound like a mean mommy,” she wailed.

  “And I’ll be dishing out extra chores like some moms do, too, if you don’t watch your mouth.”

  “I’m sorry,” she sputtered.

  “I could use some help in the kitchen,” I told her. “But give me five minutes.”

  She nodded compliantly and headed upstairs.

  “Andie,” I said, returning to the phone. “Okay, now I can talk. Where were we? Oh yes . . . about packing and stuff.”

  “Why not?” she insisted. “Remember, Sean’s expecting to see you.”

  She didn’t have to remind me. “Which brings me to something,’ I added. “I want you to give him a message for me—you know, explain why I couldn’t come.”

  “So . . . you’re giving up. Well, I’m not interested in passing along secondhand information,” she said. “You’re going to the choir competitions, and that’s final!”

  “Please, Andie, you’re blowing this out of proportion,” I said.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to go; I do. But what would you do if you were me?”

  “It wouldn’t be easy, that’s for sure. But like I said at school, now that your mom’s had her baby, why can’t your stepdad help out?”

  I shrugged. Did I dare ask him?

  “Please just think about it?” she pleaded.

  “Well, if he doesn’t come home too tired, maybe I will.”

  “Too tired?” Andie was beside herself. “You can’t just let this go. Maybe I should come over there.”

  “Not a good idea.”

  So, once again, I thought things were settled. At least about what step I should take next, which was pretty much zilch.

  I never even heard Uncle Jack come home.

  By the time I fussed and fought with Carrie, and later with Stan, who couldn’t spare some time to take us to the hospital to see the baby, I was exhausted. And feeling blue.

  I had a very suspicious feeling that Stan was actually putting off seeing our new sister. For some strange—probably macho— reason.

  Mark and Phil were much easier to handle than the girls, and when I told them to clean up their rooms after supper and do their homework, they did it. I was shocked.

  Fortunately, I had less homework than usual. I headed for my room and started working, only to find that I kept falling asleep at my desk.

  When I looked at the clock, it was midnight.

  Oh no, I thought. I’ve completely lost my chance!

  And sure enough, when I tiptoed down the hall to see if Uncle Jack was home, I spotted his bathrobe lying at the foot of the bed. And, listening for a moment, I heard snoring.

  Uncle Jack was home . . . and I’d totally missed him!

  Sad and desperate, I headed downstairs for some milk and cookies. The burden of responsibility had already begun to lessen somewhat, just having an adult back in the house, especially at night. But knowing what I was about to miss made me angry.

  There was plenty of milk in the fridge—a whole gallon. I reached for it, thankful for a man like Uncle Jack in our lives. Even without a grocery list, he’d taken it upon himself to remember a few of the basic food groups consumed in this household.

  Slowly, I poured a glass of milk.

  Glancing down, I noticed Goofey. “Did you come to keep a lonely girl company?” I picked him up.

  He purred, eyeing my glass. “All right,” I said, putting him down and getting his bowl. “If I’m up, you have to be up, too . . . is that it?”

  Goofey meowed.

  Then I heard a sound in the dining room and turned to see Uncle Jack coming toward the kitchen. “What’s this? A midnight snack?” He grinned. “Mind if I join you?”

  “Okay.”

  He sat on a barstool and leaned forward on his elbows. “Guess I should’ve wakened you earlier.”

  “That’s fine,” I said, glad to have this opportunity, at least. “I think I was probably wiped out.”

  “It certainly looked that way to me. And I must say, not a very good way for a young lady to start out on an important trip.”

  I turned away from the cookie jar and stared at him. I’d scarcely been listening at this point, thinking he was just coming downstairs to chitchat or have a snack. But this—what had he just said?

  “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?” I held my breath.

  “I’ve got you covered, Holly-Heart,” he said with a broad grin. “You’re going to Washington, D.C.”

  I ran to him, and stifling a shriek of joy, I hugged the daylights out of him.

  “Now, then, do you need some help getting ready?” he asked.

  “I’ll just do a quick load of laundry, if that’s all right.” I was fully awake, adrenaline rushing through my veins!

  He nodded his approval.

  “Oh, thank you, Uncle Jack,” I said again. “I hope this isn’t going to be a hardship on you. Or Mom.”

  “Not at all. And Stan’s going to have a golden opportunity to learn firsthand what family life’s all about.”

  “Stan?” I gulped. “He’s going to be in charge?”

  “Not totally. But he’ll be in training of sorts, that’s for certain.’

&nbs
p; “In training?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Hibbard has agreed to oversee things before and after school till I can get home from work.”

  I laughed out loud. “Our next-door neighbor? You’re kidding! Does Stan know about this?”

  “He knows, and he’ll have to live with it.”

  I chuckled, heading upstairs to think through the items of clothing and things I needed for my trip. Mrs. Hibbard, the pickiest little old lady in Dressel Hills, was going to whip Stan Patterson into shape!

  Was this poetic justice or what?

  IT’S A GIRL THING

  Chapter 12

  I had only one regret about leaving my family behind: not getting to lay eyes on my baby sister before I left.

  Mrs. Duncan was overjoyed about my coming. So was Andie. And if I’m not too presumptuous to say so, I think Jared looked very pleased, too.

  I, however, could hardly contain myself as we filed into the coach section of the airplane. “You’ll never believe what I was doing at one o’clock this morning,” I said, settling into the aisle seat next to Andie.

  “Dirty laundry?” She laughed. “I told you, and you didn’t listen!”

  “Well, for once, you were right.” I stuffed my carry-on bag beneath the seat directly in front of me, still wiggling with excitement, not to mention the effects of several glasses of soda.

  Uncle Jack would surely have freaked if he’d known what I’d had to drink for breakfast. But adrenaline doesn’t last forever, and when you’ve had only a few hours’ sleep, well . . .

  The shuttle flight to Denver lasted about forty minutes, and then all of us experienced the fun of finding our way—while trying to stay together—through the maze of security checks, concourses, and underground shuttles at Denver International Airport.

  But soon we were seated in the waiting area, ready for the Boeing 737 to fly us to Chicago. There, we’d be changing planes again.

  “What will you do when you see Sean?” asked Andie right out of the blue.

  “Run up to him, throw my arms around him, and give him a big pucker.” I chuckled sarcastically. “What do you think I’ll do, silly?”

  “Hey, I’m serious.”

  “So am I.” We giggled about it, and when we’d calmed down a bit, I told her that I was actually feeling awkward about meeting Sean again, especially with the whole choir hanging around.