“Thank you, Uncle Bob,” Christy said, tossing the blanket at David. “Here. Carry this.”
“Aw, do I have to?” David complained, his paws full of candy.
“Would you rather carry this basket and Thermos?”
“No,” he mumbled, stuffing the blanket under his arm and stepping into the early morning mist with his sister.
The Christmas morning sky matched the creamy blue-gray of the foaming ocean. The air, the sand, even the quick breaths Christy took felt damp and chilly.
“Lord,” she whispered, “I’m sorry I messed things up. I don’t want to hide stuff from my parents, and I especially don’t want to hide stuff from You. I’m sorry.”
She took a deep breath, filling her lungs with moist morning air and her heart with anticipation. Then she stopped.
There he was!
Tall, broad-shouldered, blond, wearing shorts and a navy blue hooded sweatshirt, Todd bent over the fire pit, poking the logs.
Christy started meshing her feet faster through the sand, David following right behind her. There Todd stood, only a few yards away, yet she couldn’t get a single word out of her heart, through her mouth, and into the space that hung between them.
Suddenly David called out, “Hey, dude!”
Todd spun around.
“David! Why did you say that?” Christy scolded.
“That’s what surfers say. I saw it on TV.”
Christy looked up. Only a few feet away stood a confident, grinning Todd. Christy halted. Everything she had ever felt for him rolled itself into a big wad and landed in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t say a word.
Todd only grinned. Then he looked at David. “Hey, how’s it going, dude?”
“See, Christy?” David said proudly. “I told you all surfers say ‘dude.’ ”
Todd laughed. “So, what’s your name, dude?”
“David.”
“You ever gone out on a skim board, dude?” Todd said playfully.
“You mean in the water?”
“C’mere, dude. I’ll teach ya.”
Todd flashed a wide smile at Christy. His screaming silver-blue eyes pierced hers. Then he turned, slid the oval fiberglass board under his arm, and threw his other arm around David’s shoulders. The two of them trotted down to the water.
Christy stood perfectly still. Wait a minute! What’s happening here? Todd! What are you doing taking off with my pesky little brother and leaving me here like this? Christy still held the basket and blanket in her arms. I should have dropped these the moment I saw you! I should have dropped this junk and run into your arms and hugged you the way I planned it in my dream last night.
Now here she stood, alone, hugging her stupid blanket. Come on, Christy. Get a grip. Act busy, like you’re having fun. They’ll be back up in a minute.
She set to work, spreading out the blanket and surveying the food situation. Her mind scrambled to construct a Plan B in which she, not David, would be the center of attention. Within a few minutes, she had found everything she needed, stretched out the bacon strips in the frying pan, and placed it on the grill.
She kept glancing down the shore to where Todd was demonstrating the skim-board technique. He would wait until a wave receded, and then he would toss the board on the wet sand, run, jump on it, and skid a few feet down the shoreline before the next wave came. As it receded he would go through the same steps all over again.
Todd looked taller and more athletic than she had remembered. His hair was a darker shade of blond than in the summer, but he still wore it short. Watching him at this distance made it seem as though she were watching a home video, not actually preparing their dream breakfast on the beach.
The popping bacon called her attention back to the fire. It smelled great. Christy carefully turned each strip, making sure none of it got too well done. It looked as though Todd had remembered everything: plates, silverware, even paper towels to drain the bacon. The eggs were hard to crack, maybe because her fingers were slick from the bacon grease. But once in the frying pan, scrambled around, the eggs cooked extremely fast. Christy felt like a little pioneer woman and couldn’t wait for Todd to see.
“Hey, dudes!” Christy yelled down the beach. They didn’t respond. She walked closer to them and hollered again. They still didn’t hear her. She glanced up and down the beach. Not another soul was out this morning. “Come on, you guys!”
They heard her and waved but kept on skim-boarding.
“Come on!” she yelled, waving for them to come. Then she whistled loudly and stood there, emphasizing the point with her hands on her hips.
They finally obliged, and Todd, red-cheeked and out of breath, jogged up to her, the wet board under his arm. He slipped his free arm around her shoulder and gave her a quick hug. Everything inside her shivered. Without saying anything, Christy slipped her arm around his waist, and they headed toward the fire pit, lost in a dream.
Suddenly Todd let go and took off running and shouting, waving his arm over his head.
“What’s wrong?” Christy called out after him. David came running up beside her, and together she and David ran to the fire pit. “What happened?”
“Seagulls,” Todd said, holding up a paper plate with only one strip of bacon left. “Guess they thought it was their Christmas present.”
“Oh, no!” Christy cried. “Look at the eggs! They ruined everything!”
Overhead the gulls circled, their shrill appeals for more, more, more piercing the air.
“Hey, it’s cool,” Todd said. “We’ve still got some orange juice.”
“But, Todd,” Christy said, trying hard not to cry, “everything was perfect!”
“I already ate,” David said, the telltale chocolate marks lining his lower lip. “Can I go use your skim board some more?”
“Sure, dude,” Todd said, chomping into the slice of bacon. He turned to Christy. “Not bad. No wonder the birds liked it.”
He looked so content—so unruffled by the catastrophe. It frustrated Christy yet set her at ease at the same time.
“I just remembered!” she said. “My uncle packed some stuff.” She lifted the lid to the basket. “There’s plenty in here, look! Do you like croissants?”
“Sure. What’s this?” Todd held up a foil wedge of Dutch Gouda. Christy laughed and told Todd the story of the abundance of international cheese at Bob and Marti’s.
He smiled, and she could see his dimples. Stretching out on the blanket, he broke open a croissant and smeared it with strawberry jam. He propped his wet feet up by the fire and said, “Good morning, Lord Jesus! Are You having a good birthday?”
Christy didn’t know if she should close her eyes and bow her head or look up into the sky the way Todd was. She had never heard anyone pray like this before, but then Todd wasn’t like anybody else. And the way he talked to God wasn’t like anybody else either.
Todd finished with, “Amen,” and then chomped into the flaky croissant. He looked at Christy and smiled. “Hey, tell your uncle thanks for me. These are good.”
Christy reached for a paper towel and gently wiped the side of Todd’s mouth. “You had some jelly right there,” she explained. Then she immediately felt self-conscious. Why am I wiping his mouth like he’s my baby brother? Did that bother him?
“Thanks,” Todd said. Then he looked at her as she never remembered him looking at her before. It was a strong, deep, intense look that shot through her and ignited every memory she had of Todd. Every emotion. In that instant, she realized this was really Todd. They were really back together on the beach. This was the morning she had dreamed about for weeks, and her dream was coming true.
It seems that when dreams come true they never turn out the same way you dreamed them. They twist and turn and disappoint, leaving you wanting so much more. I don’t know which to blame: the dream itself or the reality that dissolves the dream.
That’s how Christy began her journal entry on Christmas night, snuggled under her warm covers in
the privacy of “her” room.
The morning on the beach hadn’t exactly turned out the way she thought it would. It had gone too fast. They ate, and Todd talked some about his mom’s wedding. But right when Christy was finally beginning to feel at ease and enjoy their time together, Todd had jumped up, announced he had promised Shawn’s parents he would be at their house at nine, and left. No big good-bye. No hug. Absolutely no hint of when he would call her or see her again.
Christy knew Todd and Shawn had been close friends for years, but Shawn had died last summer. Why was Todd leaving her to go spend the day with Shawn’s parents? It didn’t make sense.
She wrote in her diary how she had felt sitting alone by the dwindling fire and watching Todd walk away, his arms full of gear. He didn’t even look back. Their dream breakfast was over, and she felt abandoned. Forsaken.
She probably would have stayed there, shivering in the morning chill, feeling sorry for herself, if it hadn’t been for her soaked brother’s whines to go back to the house. Gathering her things, she had trudged through the sand, miserable and cranky. Behind her only the fire remained, burning into ashes.
Back at the house her parents asked about “the crazy breakfast.” Christy joined them at the kitchen table and began by apologizing for not being up-front about the situation. Marti kept interjecting her approving comments about Todd, and David joined her, giving full details of how Todd had taught him to skim-board.
“Sounds like a boy we’d like to meet someday,” Mom said.
“But remember, Christy, you’re not allowed to date until you’re sixteen,” Dad said. “We don’t mind if you spend time with Todd and your other friends this week, as long as you’re not going on a date.” His tone was gruff; then he added, “Don’t ever lie to your mother and me. If you want more freedom and privileges, then you show us you’re trustworthy.”
“She is,” Bob interjected quickly.
“We want to trust you, Christy,” Dad said a bit more gently, “but trust is something you earn by making wise choices and by being honest.”
Christy felt humiliated, having everyone looking on as her dad lectured her.
“If we didn’t trust you, Christy, we wouldn’t let you stay here this week,” her mom added. “Just don’t take advantage of the privilege, all right?”
Christy nodded. Her stomach felt awful. She had so many things she wanted to say, like, “You can trust me. I’ve made a lot of wise choices you don’t even know about. I’m really trying hard, even though I slip up every now and then.” But all she did was force a smile and nod.
Mom smiled. Marti smiled. Bob smiled. Nobody said anything. They just smiled tight, forced smiles.
“Well,” Christy said, excusing herself, “thanks for letting David and me stay this week. You can trust me. I’ll do my best.”
“We know you will, honey,” her dad said.
Christy slipped out of the room and changed into sweats. She knew her dad was right about needing to be honest and trustworthy, and she knew she deserved the lecture. Still, it made her feel small and shaken, stripped of what little magic the morning had held.
Now, at day’s end, trying to write all these feelings out, she felt even more dismal. She knew she couldn’t mess things up this week. But somehow, without getting around her parents’ directive, she had to spend as much time as she could with Todd. They said she could see him, just not go out with him. She would have to plan a bunch of group things, then. Get all the gang from the summer back together so she could be with Todd.
Her final entry in her diary read:
This week I’ve got to find out where I stand with Todd. I need to know where our relationship is and where it’s going.
She had his phone number. Turning out the light, Christy determined that if he didn’t call by noon tomorrow, she would call him, and she would have something planned for them to do.
The phone rang at exactly 11:45 the next day. But it was Tracy, not Todd. At first Christy acted frustrated that Tracy had called right then, but then she caught herself.
This was Tracy, her friend! And she really wanted to spend time with Tracy, too. Tracy was close friends with Todd. They could all do something together. She quickly changed her tone of voice and invited Tracy over to make cookies.
Right when she hung up, Marti came swishing down the stairs, dressed in navy blue pants, a white blouse, and a navy blue, V-neck sweater with some kind of emblem on the pocket. She looked cute—like a schoolgirl in a new uniform.
“Ready, Christy?”
“Ready for what?”
“Why, shopping, dear. I thought we’d go shopping. We’re getting an awfully late start. If you want to wear what you have on, it’s all right.” Marti reached for her purse on the front hall tree and turned to look at Christy over her shoulder. “Well, come along, Christy. Don’t just stand there.”
Christy took a deep breath and two steps forward. She was taller than her aunt, and at that moment even that tiny bit of leverage helped give her courage.
“You know what, Aunt Marti? I didn’t know we were supposed to go shopping. Did you mention it to me earlier?”
“I suppose not. But everyone goes shopping right after—”
Christy gently interrupted. “Since I didn’t know your plans, I made my own plans. I invited Tracy over to bake cookies. Uncle Bob said it was okay.”
Marti looked stunned. She stammered, “Well, then, I …”
“I didn’t mean to mess up your plans. It’s just that you didn’t tell me.”
“I see. Yes, I understand,” Marti stated, pursing her lips. With a brisk turn of her head she called into the den, where the TV blared. “David! David, come here, dear.”
“What is it?” David called back without moving.
“David, I want you to turn off that television and come here, darling.”
“David,” Christy yelled above her aunt’s controlled voice. “Do what Aunt Marti says—now!”
“Okay, okay!” David, wearing cargo pants and a skateboard T-shirt, appeared in the entryway. He scrunched up his nose and squinted through his glasses. “What?”
“David, we’re going shopping. Now. You need to comb your hair and get your shoes on.” Marti looked awfully smug.
“Aw, do I have to go?”
“Yes!” Christy stated sternly, yet inwardly suppressing a laugh. She didn’t know who would drive whom nuts first, Marti or David. This would be a shopping trip to remember.
Within five minutes they were out the door, David already begging Marti to take him to McDonald’s for lunch.
Bob helped Christy find what she needed in the kitchen. It really amazed her. At home they never had this much food in the refrigerator at one time. Their cupboards never held so much nor such a variety. Bob even had different kinds of chocolate chips, including white chocolate. These cookies were going to be gourmet!
Tracy arrived and handed Christy a plate of fudge. “This is for you. My mom and I make fudge every year. I hope you like it.”
“Are you kidding? I love anything chocolate. Thanks, Tracy. But now I feel bad that I don’t have something for you.”
Bob’s voice came from the den. “Do you like cheese, Tracy?”
“Pardon me?” Tracy called back.
“Never mind,” Christy said, laughing and steering Tracy away from her crazy uncle and into the kitchen. “Come on. Let’s make some cookies. We have enough ingredients to make a couple of batches. I thought maybe we could take some to some people this afternoon, if they turn out well.”
Petite Tracy, her shoulder-length brown hair pulled back in a ponytail, smiled a knowing smile. “You mean, maybe we could take some to Todd?”
Christy blushed. “Yes. And everybody else, too. Heather and Doug, and you know, all the guys from this summer.”
Tracy placed her hand on Christy’s arm and, with a teasing look on her face, said, “You don’t have to explain, Christy. I know who you mean. And yes, I think Todd would really appreci
ate it.”
They both giggled.
“Is there anybody in particular you’d like to deliver a box of cookies to?” Christy probed, curious if Tracy had her heart set on any certain guy.
“Well, actually …” Tracy didn’t look up as she hesitated; then she said, “I’m sort of interested in somebody, but I don’t think he’s interested in me.”
“Who?”
“I don’t want to say. I’d feel horrible if everybody knew that I liked him, especially if he’s not interested in me.”
“Oh, come on! Tell me!”
“I’ll tell you this week if he acts at all interested in me. Otherwise, I’m going to give up on him.”
“You’d better tell me.”
“I will. I promise. Only if it looks like there’s any hope, okay?”
“Okay.”
The girls shook hands on it and set to work.
Bob had a great kitchen for cooking: plenty of counter space and every possible size of measuring cup and mixing bowl. They started with a huge mixing bowl and doubled Bob’s own recipe for gourmet chocolate chip cookies, using real butter and mixing it with brown and white sugar until it looked like caramel pudding. Next came eggs, flour, baking soda, and then the chocolate chips.
“Which kind should we put in?” Christy asked, snitching some white chocolate chips and popping them into her mouth.
“How about both?” Tracy said, pouring both bags of chips into the bowl.
Christy laughed and grabbed a scoop of dough. “These are going to be so good!”
They worked together, nibbling on the dough, then placing rounded balls on the cookie sheets.
“Do you want anything to drink?” Christy asked, looking in the refrigerator.
“Do they have any diet drinks?”
Christy turned around and burst into laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Tracy asked, popping another ball of cookie dough into her mouth.
“I just think it’s funny that we’ve eaten about ten thousand calories in cookie dough, and you ask for a diet drink.”
Christy Miller Collection, Vol 1 Page 30