Holly's Heart Collection One

by Beverly Lewis

  At last he snapped his fingers. “I’ve got it! The book I read is called Handwriting: A Key to the Real You.”

  Faster than a speeding microchip, I thought of Mom’s mysterious letters. The handwriting had changed, though. The first two letters had definitely been scrawled. Today’s letter was more refined, almost stylish. Had the letters been written by two different men?

  “Danny.” I turned to him suddenly, filling him in on the strange letters Mom was getting in the mail. “Want to help me solve an international mystery?”

  “What are the clues?”

  “I’ll make a list for you,” I said.

  Eagerly, Danny went to the kitchen counter, pulling out scraps of paper from the top drawer. “Here’s some paper.” He brought the tablet to me and scooted it across the table.

  I began to outline everything I could remember about the letters and their content, showing Danny when I finished. “There. Any ideas how to tell who’s writing anonymous letters to my mom?”

  “We could check out the handwriting book at the library,” he said. “We’ll study the penmanship on the envelope and in the letters to see what personality type we’re dealing with. It should eventually lead you to your mystery man.”

  “That’s logical,” I said.

  Logic…Danny’s strongest point.

  Mrs. Myers peeked around the corner. “Holly? Any time you’re ready for your new hairdo, let me know.”

  “I almost forgot,” I said, studying the list of clues once more.

  Danny looked startled. “You’re not going to cut her hair, are you, Mom?” he asked, concern in his voice.

  “Never,” she said, waving her well-manicured hand.

  Danny seemed to admire my hair with a fleeting glance.

  Hmm, maybe Danny wasn’t all logic after all….

  “Why is my mom changing your hair?” he asked pointedly.

  “I want a new look, and your mom’s the pro,” I said, deciding to conceal the real reason.

  Danny said no more about my new do, gathering up the notes I’d written.

  His mom directed me to the powder room off the kitchen. In the mirror, I observed her every move as she wrapped my hair into a smooth French twist, securing it with thin hairpins.

  Stepping back when she was finished, I stared at the young woman in the mirror. “It’s so…well, grown-up!”

  “It certainly is. And quite becoming, too,” she said.

  I touched my hair lightly. “Do you mind if I wear it this way home? I’ll return the pins.”

  “Go ahead, have fun with it. And forget the pins. They’re yours to keep.”

  “Thanks, Mrs. Myers,” I said, feeling shy.

  “Call me Ruthanne,” she said with a broad smile.

  I nodded, feeling uneasy about addressing a grown-up that way. She pointed me in the direction of the family room, where Danny sat waiting with his back to us.

  I stepped into the hall, inching my way toward him. I called, “Guess who?”

  He turned slowly, tilting his head.

  I stood very still. “It’s the new me. Like it?”

  He blinked his eyes. “You look eighteen, at least.”

  “Really? That old?”

  “It’s incredible, Holly.”

  I couldn’t let on how pleased I was with his opinion of my appearance. “Guess I’d better head home,” I said, noticing the clock on the mantel. It was nearly five o’clock.

  Danny seemed confused. “You’re going out in public like that?”

  “Why not?”

  “It, uh…it’s not you,” he stuttered.

  “Well, yes, it is me,” I said, beginning to feel frustrated. Was he ever going to talk to me about, well, whatever Andie thought he had on his mind?

  “We can ride home on the bus, okay?” Danny suggested.

  “Sure,” I said.

  I thanked Mrs. Myers repeatedly for the new hairdo and refreshments. Then the shyest, most logical guy in Dressel Hills and the amazing new Holly Meredith walked together to the city bus stop.

  Downtown, sitting side by side in the bus waiting for the light to change, I noticed a photo booth in the drugstore window across the street. “Let’s get off here,” I said, pulling the cord overhead.

  “Where are you going?” he asked, catching up with me.

  I held my hands up to protect my hairdo from the evening breeze. “I want to take a picture of my new look,” I said, depositing the coins in the slot outside the mini photo booth.

  Parting the purple curtain, I sat down and posed. First, two serious shots, then two smiley ones. Still seeing spots, I stepped out of my private photo shoot feeling like a movie actress. I waited for the pictures to develop, frustrated by Danny’s restlessness.

  “They’ll be ready in a second,” I said, thinking about Lucas and hoping one of these was good enough to send off to him. If I mailed it before six o’clock tonight, he’d have my picture by next Tuesday.

  All four poses turned out great. I was delighted. Only one pose was suitable for Lucas Leigh, however. I could hardly believe it was me. And neither could Danny.

  “It’s a sophisticated side of you I’ve never seen before,” he said.

  “And might never see again,” I teased.

  “May I have one of those?” he asked, studying the pictures.

  “Sure. Which one?”

  He pointed to the very one I planned to send to Lucas.

  SEALED WITH A KISS

  Chapter 12

  I stalled about the photos, talking Danny into letting me show them to Mom first. Then we caught the bus again, riding it to Downhill Court.

  “See you in church tomorrow?” Danny asked as the bus stopped to let off passengers one block before my street.

  “Sure,” I said. “And thanks for your help at the gym today.”

  The bus jolted to a stop at the corner of Aspen and Downhill Court. “You’ll make the team if you keep practicing,” he said as we hopped off.

  “Hope so.” We crossed the street, the sun beginning to drop behind the mountains.

  “I’ll call you, Holly.” He walked me to the door.

  “Okay.”

  He opened the door for me. “Maybe my parents could invite you and your mom and sister over sometime…to get better acquainted. Since we go to the same church, you know.”

  “Really?” I said, wondering what Mom would think. But then it wasn’t like Danny and I were dating or anything. He hadn’t even said he liked me yet.

  “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Holly-Heart.”

  I blushed. “That’s my mom’s nickname for me.”

  “Mind if I call you that?”

  “Better ask Mom,” I teased.

  “Okay.” He waved as he turned to leave.

  I dashed into the house, conscious of simmering spaghetti sauce. The aroma filled the house.

  Upstairs, I yanked the bottom drawer of my bureau open, finding my letter to Lucas. I searched for an envelope and a scissors to cut the best picture off the strip of four. Carefully examining the pose one last time, I slipped it into the envelope.

  “I need a stamp quick,” I called to Mom as I raced downstairs.

  “Kitchen desk drawer, top right,” she said, stirring the sauce, her back to me.

  I snatched up a self-stick stamp and plopped it on the envelope. “I’ll be right back.” I glanced at the clock. Ten minutes till six o’clock!

  “Holly,” Mom called to me when I was halfway out the back door. “Andie has been trying to reach you all afternoon. I said you’d call her the minute you got home.”

  “Can’t this minute,” I shouted back. “I have to catch the last mail pickup.” With that I rushed down the back steps, my tennies flying over the bricked sidewalk to the mailbox on the corner.

  Just ahead of me, I could see the mail truck making its turn onto my street. I ran faster. The key dangled on the postman’s chain as he reached to unlock the mail receptacle. Out of breath, I sprinted toward him.
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  “Looks like you’re just in time, missy.” He reached for my letter.

  “Wait a sec,” I said, checking to see if everything was in place.

  “Take your time.” He scooped up a pile of mail and headed for the postal truck.

  Then I did a strange thing. I held the envelope close to my heart and made a wish…. And I whispered, “Please, make this wish come true.”

  Slam-a-clump! The mail truck door shut. The uniformed postal worker climbed behind the steering wheel.

  “Here’s my letter,” I said, slipping it into his hand.

  With a wave, he was off.

  I stood there a moment, watching as the truck made its way down the tree-lined street, wondering what had come over me. Making wishes was for blowing out candles on your birthday. Not for mailing letters to pen pals!

  Turning, I plodded back toward the house. When I strolled in the back door, Mom mentioned that Andie had called again. Inquisitive Andie. She would want to hear how things went with Danny, of course.

  Well, there was nothing to tell. Except he did call me Holly- Heart and asked for my picture! And he said he’d see me tomorrow at church…and there was the possible invitation to his house. Replaying the events of the day, I realized there might be some good stuff to share with my best friend. Just nothing earthshaking.

  My thoughts strayed to Lucas. Now, there was someone who wasn’t afraid to speak his mind. Sensitive too. But then, writers were like that.

  For a guy who lived across town, Danny sometimes seemed so out of reach, even though I was pretty sure he liked me. Standing in the kitchen, I was completely confused.

  “Wash up for supper, girls,” Mom said. Looking at me for the first time, she did a double take. “What happened to your hair?”

  I grinned at her. “It’s the new me.” I turned around, showing off. “Like it?”

  The phone rang.

  Mom waved her hand. “It’s probably Andie again. Let it ring till after supper.”

  Hearing the phone ring-ringing and ignoring it was like Mom stashing strawberry ice cream in a padlocked freezer and throwing away the key. Pure torture.

  After supper, I deserted the kitchen to call Andie back. Taking the phone downstairs into my “office,” I sat on the lid of the toilet seat and phoned Andie.

  She answered the phone like this: “Okay, let’s have it. Everything from the very first second.”

  “Well, hello to you, too,” I said, laughing.

  “I’m waiting” came her no-nonsense reply.

  “Okay,” I said. “Danny met me at the school gym, wearing green shorts and a T-shirt. There was a pocket on the left side of the shirt with blue stitching and—”

  “Holly, get real. Who cares about topstitching? Get to the good stuff.”

  “Like what?”

  “C’mon. When did he tell you, well, you know?”

  “Nothing like that happened,” I said. “You must be dreaming. Danny never even mentioned it.”

  “He didn’t? But Billy said—”

  “Look, Andie, I’m not interested in your secondhand information. Danny can talk to me if he has something to say. I don’t want to hear things passed from Billy to you…to me.”

  “Hey, don’t get huffy,” she said. “I just thought—”

  “Yeah, well, you thought wrong.”

  “It’s not my fault,” she insisted. “Billy told me exactly what Danny told him.”

  “I hear you, but I’m not playing Whisper Down the Lane, either. Besides, I have other things to talk about.”

  Andie was silent, but only for a half second. “Like what?”

  “Like my pen pal, Lucas Leigh. He’s the famous Marty Leigh’s nephew. We’ve been writing for a while now.”

  “Really? Marty Leigh’s nephew? How come I wasn’t informed of this sooner?”

  “I don’t know why. Maybe just for the fun of it.”

  “Or maybe,” she added, “to win our pen pal contest by cheating. You’re supposed to report all pen pals by Labor Day, the day before school starts. That’s only two weeks away.”

  “Well, I’m reporting now. It’s not Labor Day yet, is it?”

  “I’m still winning,” she bragged. “I got two more names from the Philippines just today.”

  “Okay, let’s just say you won,” I said. “I don’t care about this stupid contest anymore. It’s more fun having just a couple of dependable pen pals, and one to exchange manuscripts with.”

  “What?” she gasped.

  “You heard me. Lucas and I are critiquing each other’s writing.

  It’s very exciting.”

  “Sounds boring, if you ask me.”

  “Boring to someone who doesn’t write stories or keep a journal.”

  “You don’t know if I write in one or not,” she shot back. “Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. You’d better watch out, Holly, I could drop this news about Lucas Leigh to Billy and he might—”

  “Sounds like blackmail to me,” I said. “We’re best friends, remember?”

  “Whatever,” she said snidely. “This conversation’s going nowhere.”

  “You got that right. Call me when you’re thinking clearly. Goodbye.” I hung up.

  In church the next day, Mom sat with Carrie and me, minus Mr. Tate. He sat three rows ahead of us with Zachary, who kept waving his Sunday school paper back at Mom.

  Across the aisle, Billy Hill was sitting with Andie and her family. She gloated about it when I caught her gaze. Danny was sandwiched in between his own parents, like it was the safest place to be with Kayla Miller sitting directly behind him. And Paula Miller was perched beside Jared Wilkins, who wore a satisfied grin.

  After church, Danny motioned to me. I told Mom I’d meet her at the car.

  “Don’t be long,” she said, turning to round up Carrie.

  I hurried over to see Danny. Kayla waited in the side aisle, probably hoping to talk to him, too.

  “Hey, Holly,” he said. “Your hair looks much better today.”

  “Thanks,” I said, touching it.

  “Will you be home this afternoon?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Great. I’ll give you a call, and maybe we can go to the library to look for that handwriting book. Okay with you?”

  My heart pounded. “Good idea,” I said brightly, hoping to discourage Kayla, who was still hanging around.

  “What did your mom think of the pictures?” he asked.

  “Pictures? Oh, those,” I said, remembering fast. “Haven’t had a chance to show them yet. But Mom really liked my hair up.”

  His parents waved to him from the back of the church.

  “I think my dad’s anxious for dinner,” he said. “I’ll call you around three o’clock.”

  “Okay. Bye,” I said, waving triumphantly to Kayla, who spun away when she heard Danny say he planned to call me later.

  On my way out, I noticed Mr. Tate. He nodded, and I smiled without speaking. Seeing him again made me realize how much better off we were without him hanging around.

  Back at home, we savored Mom’s famous roast and onions, potatoes, and carrots dinner. She sang church songs while carrying serving dishes into the dining room.

  Then, after stuffing ourselves, I spooned up the leftovers into plastic containers, thinking of Mom. She seemed much happier again. Back to normal. When Mr. Tate did his “helicopter-hover,” she seemed tense. Insecure Mr. Tate had a way of cluttering up the atmosphere.

  Wiping the crumbs off the place mats, I struggled with the idea of Mom seeing him again this coming Tuesday night to work things out between them. I wondered how Mr. Tate would react to another letter from Mom’s secret admirer. Of course, I wouldn’t think of disobeying her this time, but as soon as my cousin Stephanie arrived tonight, I’d see about putting her up to something. Anything!

  The doorbell rang and I ran to get it.

  What was this? Through the screen door, I stared down at Zachary Tate. Then I noticed Mr. Tate parking h
is car in our driveway.

  “Hi, Holly,” Zach said. “My dad wants to see your mom.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Does she know about this?”

  Mom strolled into the living room. “Open the door, please, Holly-Heart.” When she saw Zach, she bent down and held her arms wide.

  He ran to her, snuggling against her. “Oh, I’ve missed my handsome boy,” she said.

  Mr. Tate was all smiles as he landed his helicopter presence in our living room. “And we’ve missed you, too,” he said, gazing at Mom.

  Zach looked up longingly at Mom. Man, it was disgusting. And just when I thought things were falling apart with these people. Guess absence does make strange things happen.

  “Zach wants to stay here and play with Carrie. Okay with you, Holly?” Mr. Tate asked.

  “Actually, I have plans this afternoon. I mean, I can’t baby-sit for you today.” I looked at Mom for moral support.

  “We wouldn’t have to be gone long,” Mr. Tate said to Mom. “Wouldn’t you like to go for coffee somewhere, Susan?”

  “Perhaps for an hour or so.” She turned to me. “It won’t be baby-sitting for you, not if Zach and Carrie play together. Maybe they could ride bikes while you read or whatever. Isn’t Zach’s bike still out in the garage?”

  The helicopter blades hummed loudly as Mr. Tate landed on Mom’s suggestion. “Splendid idea. Yes, by all means, go outdoors with the children, Holly. Get them in shape for roughing it in the mountains.” At that he winked at Mom.

  I breathed deeply and then said again, “I’m sorry, Mr. Tate, I have plans to go to the library. You should call ahead if you want me to watch Zach. You’ll have to take him and Carrie along with you if you want to go to coffee.” It felt good finally standing up to Mr. Michael Tate.

  Mom looked at me, surprised.

  Surprised? Wait a minute, I thought she’d be furious!

  Encouraged, I dug my heels in for the fight.

  Mr. Tate revved his motor and nearly lifted off the floor with his hovering. “I’m not asking you, Holly, I’m telling you. Zachary will stay here with you and Carrie. Now, do as your mother said and get the bikes out of the garage.”