“Just what my younger sister usually orders.”
“Really? You never mentioned her in your letters,” I said, realizing how dumb my comment was, especially since a considerable amount of info had been missing from my letters, as well.
“How old is she?” I asked.
“Almost thirteen, and she loves to write. Especially letters.”
“Think she’d want a pen pal?”
“Good idea,” he said, smiling.
Soon Marty Leigh joined us, presenting a copy of her latest book to me. She ordered ginger ale for us, then proposed a toast. “Here’s to Sealed With a Kiss.” She raised her glass. “To the first issue.”
In great detail, she explained her plan to include my short story in the November issue of the magazine.
“Are you willing to do some rewriting?” she asked.
“Whatever it takes.” I felt giddy.
“That’s the spirit,” she said, taking another sip. “What do you think of the magazine title?”
“It’s perfect,” I said, pushing my hair back and letting it hang down behind my chair. I felt so good about going through with the truth. Maybe I’d write a book about this crazy day. Someday. For now, I’d have to record every amazing facet in my journal.
That evening, I told Mom all about my thrilling day, especially the part about the new magazine.
“Sealed With a Kiss will be out in three months,” I told her. “I can’t wait to see my story in print.”
“Our Holly-Heart is going to be a published writer,” she said, reaching for my hands and dancing around the kitchen with me.
“How much money will you get for it?” Carrie asked.
“Wait and see.” I laughed as Goofey arched his kitty back and meowed under the desk.
When all the hoopla died down, I excused myself and slipped off to my bedroom. What an incredible day this had been. In more ways than one!
Perched on my beloved window seat, I listened to my heart. And I wrote my answer to Danny Myers’ important question.
To
Aleta Hirschberg,
my sweet Auntie ’Leta,
whose mother-heart
has touched hundreds
of Kansas schoolchildren
…and me.
THE TROUBLE WITH WEDDINGS
Chapter 1
A bad case of curiosity caused me to tiptoe down the hall to Mom’s bedroom. Holding my breath, I listened for the slightest sound of early morning activity. No way would Mom allow my snooping. Not in a zillion years.
My fingers touched the cool doorknob as I glanced over my shoulder, ears straining. All clear. Slowly the door glided open, and I crept into her rose-colored room, neat as always.
Scanning the room, I spotted Mom’s latest greeting card from Uncle Jack. The pretty card stood on the antique pine dresser beside the lamp. I reached for it, a twinge of guilt tickling my conscience.
Pink rosebuds danced around the edges of the romantic card. Dying of curiosity, I turned to the inside. Just as I thought. The note at the bottom confirmed my suspicions. I read the words I’m counting the hours till I see you again, Susan. Love, Jack. A red ink heart twinkled up at me. Uncle Jack was no artist, but the happy face in the middle said it all: Jack Patterson was in love with my mom!
Creak! The steps! My heart pounded as I put the card down near the ceramic lamp. I crept to the door and peeked through the crack. Mom had reached the top step and was making the turn into the hallway leading to her room.
Yikes!
I stepped backward, away from the door, darting here and there searching for a hiding place. But where to hide? In a flash I scampered into Mom’s walk-in closet. I spied her huge clothes hamper. She’ll never find me here, I thought.
Then, slithering inside, I yanked the dirty clothes out from under me and covered myself with them as I waited, listening.
“Holly-Heart! Time to get up for school,” Mom called at my door, halfway down the hall. Lucky for me I’d left my bedroom door shut. Even if I didn’t answer, she wouldn’t call me again, at least not for a while.
I could hear her soft footsteps on the carpet as she approached her room. Inside, she hummed, swooshing the curtains aside. She’s in some fabulous mood today, I thought, secretly congratulating myself on finding the perfect hiding place.
One of Mom’s pet peeves was nosy people. She wouldn’t be singing now if she discovered me snooping. I could almost see her, wearing one of her many wool skirts with a sweater or blouse to match, her shoulder-length blond hair swept up or back, away from her face. She was probably settling down for her devotions about now. I could almost hear the pages of her Bible turning as she found the verses for the day.
Mom loved her morning quiet time. It felt good to know she took time to spend with God before going to work at the law firm where she was a paralegal. It hadn’t always been that way, though. But now all of us were Christians. All except Daddy…and his new wife.
Good thing there were tiny slats in the side of the hamper, or I’d be suffocating by now. My legs were scrunched. How much longer? Sooner or later Mom would be wondering why I wasn’t up and in the shower.
Br-r-ing! I jumped as Mom answered the phone. Lifting the lid, I eavesdropped. Mom would freak out for sure if she knew I was here.
“Good morning, Jack,” Mom cooed.
In spite of the pain of being hampered in like this, I grinned. Things were perfect. Mom was dating my favorite living relative. His former wife, my aunt Marla, had been Daddy’s sister. She used to be my all-time favorite relative, but she’d died of cancer last February, three days before my thirteenth birthday. It was a nightmare for all of us…as bad as when Daddy divorced Mom.
Last month Uncle Jack surprised us when he moved his consulting business from Pennsylvania to Dressel Hills, our ski resort town in the middle of the Colorado Rockies. Best of all, Stan, Phil, Mark, and little Stephie—our cousins—were only a few blocks away. And Mom was happier than ever. Well, at least as happy as when Daddy lived here.
“Tonight?” I heard Mom say. “I’ll ask Holly first, but I’m sure she won’t mind.”
Mind what? I closed the hamper lid silently. My knees were frozen now, my neck stiff. If I didn’t get out of here soon, I’d be late for school. I could almost see the principal shaking his head in disgust. No way would he buy the trapped-in-the-hamper story.
“Holly!” Now my little sister, Carrie, was calling me. “Wake up,” she said, pounding on my bedroom door.
I gasped. This had to be the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.
“Mommy, Holly’s still asleep,” she said, coming so close I could hear her shrieking Mom’s name inches from me.
“Just a minute, Carrie,” Mom said. “I’m on the phone.”
“But I can’t find Goofey anywhere,” she whined like a typical eight-year-old. “He’s nowhere.
”
“I’m sure he’s around somewhere,” Mom said.
Carrie stomped down the hall calling, “Here kitty, kitty.”
Scr-i-tch, scr-a-tch! Something was clawing the outside of the hamper. “Meow!” It was Goofey. He must have followed me in here. My heart sank. I’m doomed, I thought, crouching down even farther and covering myself with soiled laundry.
I heard Mom place the phone in its cradle. “Carrie, dear,” she said as she headed toward the walk-in closet…and me. “I think Goofey’s in here, in my closet.” She opened the door.
I held my breath. I’ll never snoop again, Lord. I promise. Just please get me out of this mess!
Scr-a-a-tch! Goofey was pawing harder at the hamper.
“There’s nothing to eat in there,” Mom was telling our cat. Her knees cracked as she bent down to pick him up. “Here, I’ll show you,” she said, lifting the hamper lid.
That’s when my heart stopped beating….
THE TROUBLE WITH WEDDINGS
Chapter 2
“That’s strange,” Mom said. “I was sure I did my laundry yesterd
ay.”
A tiny stream of air escaped my lips as I exhaled inside the hamper, preparing for the wrath of Mom.
She continued. “See, Goofey? It’s nothing but a pile of dirty clothes.” Goofey meowed again. Then…bam! Mom let the lid drop. “C’mon, let’s get you some breakfast.” Her footsteps grew muffled as she reached the carpeted steps leading downstairs.
“Close call,” I whispered as I pulled myself out of the hamper like a butterfly struggling from its cocoon. Free at last, I flung the dirty clothes out of my way, limping out of Mom’s closet and past her dresser. I blew a kiss at Uncle Jack’s card. “It’s all your fault,” I whispered, grinning as I headed for my room.
I found my journal in the bottom drawer of my dresser. I scribbled Wednesday, September 22: I knew it! Uncle Jack’s in love with Mom. More later.
I glanced at my watch. It was late. If I skipped shaving my legs, I could shower and be ready for breakfast in ten minutes. But…yikes! Tryouts for girl’s volleyball were after school today. I had to shave. Danny Myers would be there cheering for me. How could I impress my best guy friend and Miss Tucker, the new coach, with cactus legs?
In the shower, an idea struck. I would shave during lunch, in the girls’ locker room. Perfect! After drying off, I tossed a disposable razor onto the back of the toilet. I grinned at the mirror as I brushed my teeth. If this morning’s narrow escape was an indication of my luck today, I could hardly wait for tryouts.
At breakfast Mom asked if I would baby-sit for Carrie, Stephie, Mark, and Phil that evening. “Uncle Jack and I are going out.”
“Why can’t Stan at least stay home with the boys?” I asked, gobbling down some cold cereal.
“Uncle Jack didn’t offer to have Stan sit with Phil and Mark.” She wiped the counter. “Stan must have other plans.”
“Okay—this time.” I gulped down my orange juice. “Isn’t this your second date alone with my uncle this week?” I teased her.
Carrie piped up. “Uncle Jack used to let us all come along. Not anymore.” She giggled.
I waved a napkin at my sister. “That was then, this is now.”
“Right,” Mom said, wringing out the dishcloth. There was a twinkle in her eyes and a spring in her step.
That’s when I noticed the run in Mom’s nylons. “You’ll have to change your hose,” I said, pointing to it.
She stared at her leg in horror, then dashed upstairs. “We’re running really late, girls,” she called to Carrie and me. “I’d better drive you to school.”
I swallowed the last of my orange juice and raced to my room to grab my books.
“Girls,” Mom called from her room. “Who’s been in my clothes hamper?”
I froze.
“Not me,” Carrie said.
“It’s a mess in here,” Mom insisted. “Holly?”
I stretched my aching legs, remembering my hiding place. A high price to pay for snooping, especially on the day of volleyball tryouts. “It’s really late, Mom. We have to go,” I said, ignoring her question and heading downstairs.
“I’m coming,” Mom said. “Can’t figure out what happened to that enormous pile of dirty clothes in my hamper.” She pressed the garage door opener. “It’s the strangest thing,” she muttered.
Settling into the backseat, I breathed a thank-you heavenward. No more snooping for me—a promise I intended to keep.
I slipped into eighth-grade science class unnoticed, claiming the nearest desk in the back of the room. My stomach rumbled as I glanced at the clock. Could I last till lunch?
I spotted Andie. She was wearing jeans and a purple shirt under her new jean jacket. Did she have her usual package of peanut butter sandwich crackers stashed nearby? I sure could use a nibble right about now.
Coughing, I hoped to get my best friend’s attention. But she didn’t turn around. So I wrote a note to her, folded it, and passed it to the boy in front of me. He tapped Andie’s shoulder—how obvious can you get? Andie turned around at the exact moment the teacher did.
Mr. Ross stepped to the front of his desk, adjusting his glasses. “Miss Martinez, please step forward.”
Andie blushed deeply. Before getting up, she stuffed the note into her sock.
“What is the rule in my class concerning note passing?” Mr. Ross asked, sliding his glasses up again. I could see smudges on them as he stepped closer.
Andie cleared her throat. “It’s not allowed, sir.”
“And did you receive a note?”
“Yes, Mr. Ross.”
“You broke the rule, then?”
She nodded.
Mr. Ross looked past Andie at me. “Who else is involved?”
I couldn’t let Andie take the blame. Standing up, I confessed, “I am, sir.”
“Both of you will see me during your lunch break.” At that, he turned and headed back to the board to write the day’s assignment.
Lunch? How would I have time to shave my legs and show up for Mr. Ross’s lecture? Besides, a girl could starve to death by then.
After class, Danny Myers was waiting by the door. Almost fifteen, he was taller than most guys in ninth grade. Logical and very spiritual, Danny possessed a unique quality that calmed me down. It was one of the coolest things about him. That and his amazing memory. His only flaw: Danny was a bit controlling sometimes—and preachy. I found that out last summer when we had an argument about my going to visit Daddy in California.
“Hey, Holly.” Danny reached for my books. “Walk you to your locker?”
I smiled. “I’d like to hide in my locker.” I began to tell him about passing the note to Andie in science, but he assured me that Mr. Ross wouldn’t make me miss lunch.
“I hope not, ’cause I’m starved.”
He reached into his pocket. “Here, try these.”
“Almonds?” I tore the tiny package open.
“They’re quick energy, and good for you, too.”
“Thanks.” I smiled up at my health-nut friend. “Once again, you saved my life.”
“My pleasure,” he said, running his free hand through his auburn hair. “I’ll walk you to your next class.”
“Perfect,” I said, spotting Kayla Miller posing beside her locker with that flirtatious grin of hers. It made me mad. Not her grin as much as her unmistakable crush on Danny.
The almonds helped me make it till lunch break. By 11:45, I was more worried about shaving my legs than anything else. Mr. Ross was sure to lecture away our entire lunch hour.
Andie waited outside the science room door. “Ready for this?” she asked.
“Sorry I got you stuck in the middle.”
“Don’t worry. If we’re polite, he’ll let us off.”
“You’re sure?”
“Just watch.” She opened the door and sauntered in.
Mr. Ross sat at his desk. He slid his smudged glasses up his nose as we came in. “Please be seated.” He gestured to the front row of desks.
Andie sat quietly, folding her hands on the desk. I mimicked her.
“Very well, girls. Let’s chat.”
He’s going to drag this out forever, I thought as I tried to match Andie by faking an interested expression.
“Are the rules of this classroom clear to you both?”
Andie nodded. So did I.
“Do you understand there must be consequences for misdeeds?”
“Yes, sir,” said Andie. Ditto for me.
“Very well. You will both write a five-hundred-word essay on the importance of following rules. In short, on responsibility.”
No problem, I thought almost gleefully. A writing assignment—the least terrible punishment of all time.
I stole a glance at Andie. Poor thing. For her this was worse than being grounded. She despised essays or anything resembling them.
“Mr. Ross, may I say something?” Andie asked.
“You may.”
“The note I received from Holly Meredith wasn’t willfully breaking the rule.”
; Mr. Ross raised his bushy eyebrows. “Oh? How is that?”
“The note was important. About matters of life and death.”
“Life and death, indeed.” He stood up, stuffing his hands into his pockets and frowning. “Please explain.”
“Well, sir, Holly didn’t get enough to eat this morning at breakfast. She just wanted to borrow a few morsels.”
“Morsels?”
Was he falling for her story? I looked at my watch. C’mon, Andie, hurry it up.
“Are you saying your friend here is malnourished?”
“Well, she is quite thin, as you can see,” she said, pouring it on thicker than ever.
Mr. Ross focused a concerned look on me. “We do have a social worker in the building three days a week. If you aren’t getting enough nourishment at home, Holly, there are some avenues that can be considered.”
Oh great, Andie, I thought. Get me reported to Social Services, why don’t you?
I said, “Thanks, but that’s not necessary.”
Andie continued, “Excuse me. I really must get my friend to the cafeteria now.”
I wanted to strangle her.
“By all means,” Mr. Ross said. “And girls…the assignment for tomorrow…”
He’s going to cancel it, I thought.
“…is due bright and early,” he said with an air of finality.
Out in the hall, Andie groaned, “An essay! Look what you’ve done, Holly.”
“I did? You made it sound like my mom neglects to feed me.”
“Sorry about that,” she said as we rushed to lunch.
“You oughta be,” I said, dashing through the line in the cafeteria, grabbing a sandwich.
“What’s your hurry?” she asked, catching up with me.
“Have to shave my legs,” I whispered, finding a table.
She rolled her eyes. “Please, I’m eating.”
I giggled. “Hurry. You can cover for me in the girls’ locker room.”
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