Livvy felt a bit sheepish. “Sounds like the two of you have been sharing secrets.”
Whose side was Mrs. Newton on, anyway?
The friendly woman winked playfully. “Don’t you worry, darlin’. Your grandma and I are not conspiring against you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” She took another bite of her peanut-butter cracker.
Livvy wondered about Mrs. Newton’s comment. Should she actually try to sit down and discuss things with Grandma? Did she have the courage to talk the way she used to write “her heart”? Did she even want to?
Honestly, she wasn’t sure.
Follow the Dream
Chapter Eleven
Livvy walked home from the mall rink, enjoying her freedom, the sky, and the fresh mountain air. Suddenly, behind her, she heard someone cycling fast.
Turning around, she saw Heather’s gorgeous older brother. Kevin Bock was headed her way!
Her heart in her throat, she knew this was her chance. Possibly, her one and only opportunity to impress him. But what did she do? She froze in place, gazing at him from the sidewalk.
Less than two feet away, he smiled. “Hi, Livvy,” he said.
“Uh . . . hi.” She was positively tongue-tied.
Kevin didn’t seem to notice. He kept right on, riding his bike up Main Street. His blond hair peeked out from under his blue knit ski cap, and his long, blue-jeaned legs pumped the bike pedals hard. Then, unexpectedly, he made the turn at the next corner. Gone, just like that!
The unforeseen encounter left her feeling jumpy. She couldn’t seem to make her legs work. What’s wrong with me? Livvy wondered.
Slowly, she put one foot in front of the other, forcing herself to keep moving. Of course, she knew better than to share any of this with Grandma. It wasn’t the kind of heart-to-heart news you just dash into the house and tell. Nope, not even Jenna Song was going to hear about this!
* * *
Three-twenty Main Street—the tall gray Victorian house where she lived with her father and grandmother—was way too quiet when she arrived.
“Grandma, I’m home,” she called.
When no one answered, she was secretly glad to have the house to herself. Alone! One afternoon in a thousand.
She took her time removing her jacket and mittens. Quietly, she went to the closet and hung up her coat, first stuffing the mittens inside the wide pockets. Where is everyone? she wondered.
Trying her best to enjoy the peaceful moment, she headed for the kitchen, where she made a snack. A peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich was a good idea. After all, she’d watched Mrs. Newton nibble on her peanut-butter-and-cracker snack.
Remembering the conversation, Livvy poured herself a tall glass of milk and sat at the table. But the sound of Kevin’s voice—“Hi, Livvy”—continued to ring in her ears. He’d smiled at her and called her by name! She still could hardly believe it. She was dying to phone Heather, to find out if he’d ever mentioned her name to his sister. But no, she wouldn’t do that. No sense getting her hopes up, anyway.
She took sips of her milk between bites of sandwich. She remembered that Mrs. Newton had encouraged her to talk to Grandma. But Livvy wondered if Grandma would actually hear her out.
Three years ago, she and Mom had spent a whole week with Grandma Hudson. It was early summer, and everything about life was beautiful then. She’d taken first place at regionais and was more than anxious for skating camp to begin. Mom had suggested they spend some time with Grandma, a recent widow. So they drove across town, not far at all.
Mom and Grandma had become much closer that short week together. Livvy didn’t know why for sure. Maybe it was because her mother needed to connect with Dad’s mother, especially now that Mom’s parents were no longer living. It may have been more Grandma Hudson’s need—to reach out in her loneliness. Whatever the reason, Livvy and her mom enjoyed the week, doing lots of “girl” things. Mostly, they hung out at Grandma’s big house. They went barefoot, all three of them. And she and Mom listened intently to the stories Grandma told while they sat on the back porch.
Livvy remembered staring out at the enormous shade trees and the surrounding woods. At the time, she wondered why everyone didn’t just build tree houses and live high in the branches. Be country bumpkins for the summer, at least.
They sifted through hundreds of black-and-white pictures that week at Grandma’s. They baked strawberry-rhubarb pies and banana-nut bread, too. And Livvy “put up” her first ever dill pickles.
Shifting gears back to the present, Livvy was sure her dad would not come through for her. He wouldn’t want to approach Grandma, prayer or not. He was too peace-loving for his own good, preferring a stress-free existence. He wouldn’t make waves. She was stuck dealing with Grandma on her own.
She sat there, staring at the stove. All at once, she realized the light was on inside the oven. Getting up, she went to peek inside. What’s this? she wondered.
Grandma was baking a cake. Why hadn’t she smelled the sweet aroma when she arrived? Was it possible she’d been so caught up with seeing Kevin Bock?
The more she thought of it, the more she wondered. This was so strange because Grandma was downright funny about cakes. They symbolized a celebration, “only for special occasions,” Grandma often said.
No one in the house was having a birthday. And there were no more wedding anniversaries to be celebrated. So what was going on? Why a cake?
Peering through the oven window, she spotted two round layers. It was obvious Grandma had made lemon cake. Livvy’s mouth watered, imagining the chocolate frosting.
Because of her skating goals, Livvy rarely allowed herself junk food. She never felt she was missing out because the trade-off was worth it. Feeling good, having plenty of energy on the ice—that was far better than the sluggish feeling sugar-laden foods offered.
She knew something was up for Grandma to bake her all-time favorite cake. There had to be a reason. She washed her hands and dried them, then headed upstairs, eager to find out.
Coco was babbling like crazy when she stepped foot in her room. “Birdie-boy miss Livvy,” he was saying.
She went right up to his cage. “I know you missed me, but do you have to be so loud about it?”
“Livvy . . . Livvy . . . Livvy . . .”
“I’m here,” she said. “You can quit now.”
She wandered out of the room into the hallway. Looking in both directions, she noticed that her grandmother’s bedroom door was closed. She must be resting, Livvy decided.
Feeling a bit lonely, she headed up the attic stairs. “Dad?” she called softly, hoping not to either awaken Grandma or alarm her father. He could be easily startled while intensely concentrating. “Dad?” she said again, reaching the top of the stairs.
She walked down the hallway that led to the arched threshold. It was the entrance to her father’s off-limits art studio. Not sure if she should knock softly or call to him again, she stood in the wide hallway. The area was large enough to be considered a foyer, a waiting room for a few choice clients. The multicolored braided rug was one her mother had picked out years before. And the navy blue director’s chair had been a birthday present to her dad. From Mom, of course. Her mother was the generous one. Always giving, that was Mom.
Raising her hand to knock, she was surprised when the door opened by itself. “Hi, kiddo,” Dad said, looking a bit disheveled. “How was school?”
“Good.”
He stepped out of the studio and closed the door behind him. “I had a feeling you were sneaking up the steps.”
She smiled. “I wasn’t sneaking; I just didn’t want to wake up Grandma.”
“Oh, Grandma’s not napping. Last I heard, she was going out to do some shopping.”
“Shopping?”
Dad shrugged his shoulders. “I didn’t quite get it, either, but she said it was important.”
“And she’s baking a cake, too. So . . . what’s going on?”
Her dad seemed as surprised a
s she was. “A cake?” He sniffed the air. “Lemon?”
“Yep.”
“Must be a significant date that only Grandma knows,” he said with a faint smile.
Livvy didn’t like the sound of it. Did this mean she’d forgotten something? “Could it be Grandma’s wedding anniversary or something?”
Dad chuckled a little. “Are you talking my parents’ anniversary, Liv? Don’t you think I’d remember a thing like that?”
Livvy had to laugh at that. For a moment, she saw a glimpse of the old Dad returning. The before-Mom-died Dad.
The phone rang, interrupting the pleasant moment. “Just a second, Liv.” Her dad disappeared into his studio to answer it. Although he left the door slightly ajar, she decided not to spoil his surprise—whatever it was—and didn’t peek.
* * *
Back in the kitchen, the timer ticked away. Livvy was still baffled by the presence of a cake in the oven. And when she opened the freezer, she spied French vanilla ice cream!
“Grandma’s definitely got something up her sleeve,” Livvy said, roaming the kitchen.
She searched for more clues. What could Grandma possibly be thinking? She racked her brain but came up with absolutely nothing. Could it be that Grandma wanted to celebrate the first day of spring?
Livvy wandered into the laundry-utility room. Grandma often did her mending or a sewing project at this end of the house. Homespun and comfortable, the long room had become Grandma’s hideaway. Framed family pictures hung in neat groupings on the wall. A yellow-and-green Tiffany lamp stood near the sewing machine, and a small chair and ottoman filled what had been an empty space in the corner. There was also a rectangular-shaped wicker basket on the desk, where Grandma kept her sewing patterns. Spying the basket, she realized something: The spring skating outfit in question was probably filed away right there.
She began searching, one by one, through the patterns. She noticed a recent skirt pattern of Grand ma’s. And a long dress her grandmother had sewn for Christmas.
When the phone rang, she almost ignored it. But then she remembered Kevin. Dashing to the kitchen, she hoped the caller might be Heather Bock.
“Hello? Livvy speaking,” she answered.
“Liv, I’ve got to talk to you.” It was Jenna.
“What’s up?”
“I was wondering . . . can you come over tonight? Just for a little while?”
She glanced at the oven. “I should probably wait till after supper.”
“You could eat with us,” Jenna urged. “Mom’s nodding her head. Can you, Liv? Please? It’s very important.”
“Why, what’s going on?”
“It’s this Passion play I’m writing,” Jen said. “I need someone to read the parts out loud. I want to hear how they sound.”
Livvy wondered why Jenna couldn’t ask her mom or dad to read the script. But then, they were the proud new parents of an adopted baby boy. They were probably busy with little Jonathan Bryan. “Yeah, sure, I guess so.”
“Cool! How soon can you come over?” Jen asked.
“I’ll have to let you know. Can I call you back?”
“Sure.”
Livvy said good-bye and hung up the phone. Then she hurried back to the attic and knocked on the studio door. “Dad? Jenna Song just called. I need to talk to you.” She almost said, “Since Grandma’s not home,” but caught herself.
He opened the studio door. “I suppose you want to go over to Jenna’s?” He seemed tired, distracted.
“I don’t know if it’s such a good idea, since Grandma made a cake. But I’ll come home after supper.”
He nodded. “Before dessert, okay?”
“I promise.” She turned to go, then stopped. “Tell Grandma where I am, okay? And don’t let her freak.”
“I can do that,” said Dad.
“Tell her I have to help Jen with something very important.”
“Something very important,” he repeated.
She ran down the steps to the closet, grabbed her jacket, and flew out the door. The light was fading quickly as she rushed down the street. Jenna’s house was only two streets away.
She couldn’t stop thinking about the lemon cake. Grandma would soon have it iced with smooth and rich chocolate icing. And what about the French vanilla ice cream she’d discovered in the freezer? What was Grandma planning?
Dad had let something slip about Grandma going shopping. Grandma Hudson was one woman who literally despised the national pastime. She stayed as far away from the mall scene as possible. Except, of course, in the wee hours of the morning, during Livvy’s skating sessions at the tiny mall. In fact, she scarcely went anywhere except to the grocery store, church, and the post office.
Livvy just didn’t get it. She worked her brain—hard. What was so special about today?
Follow the Dream
Chapter Twelve
Jenna’s front door was propped open slightly. Livvy wondered if Jen expected her to walk in without knocking. “Anybody home?” she called, then pushed the door open cautiously.
Jenna met her with a broad grin, coming into the living room. She offered to take Livvy’s jacket, then hung it up. “I’m thrilled you could come.” She grabbed Livvy’s hand, and they ran off to Jenna’s attic retreat.
Every time Livvy visited, she was in awe of her friend’s room, tucked under the eaves—away from everything. “I wish my grandma could see this pink carpet,” she said, leaning on the barre. “It’s so bright and cheerful. It would do her good.”
“Almost too bright, don’t you think?” Jen was still smiling.
“That’s what you said about our locker . . . but—”
“No, don’t worry. I’m not ripping the carpet out of my bedroom, too!”
Livvy perched herself on the barre, leaning back against the mirror. She thought of Kevin Bock just then. She didn’t know why, but the very special moment drifted back. His adorable smile, his cute knit hat . . .
“Hey, Livvy. You’re daydreaming.” Jenna was standing in front of her face, waving her petite hands.
“Uh, sorry.”
Jenna handed her a bunch of papers. “Here’s the script. I’m not sure, but it might be too long. I think it’s pretty clean, though.”
“Clean?”
“You know, correct grammar . . . spelling. Stuff like that.”
“Oh.”
Jenna was laughing. “What did you think I meant?”
“Nothing,” she said, getting down off the barre. “Where should I stand to do this? Or do you want me to sit?”
Jenna assured her that she didn’t have to act it out. “Just sit somewhere comfortable and read it to me. A little expression would be cool.”
“Sure, I can do that.” She sat on the high four-poster bed. Sasha promptly came and curled up next to her. “Hello, kitty,” she said. “Are you making a cameo appearance anywhere in this play?”
“Read and you’ll find out,” said Jenna, planting herself on a giant black beanbag.
Livvy began to read. It began with Mary, in the town of Bethany. She anointed and wiped Jesus’ feet with her long hair. The writing was exceptionally beautiful. Jenna’s words seemed to make the story come to life.
Livvy read on, discovering that she actually wanted to read with even more expression. She could almost see the costumes, the sets, everything. Wow, she could just imagine herself, Heather, and Jenna acting out the parts of the Bible women. She could hardly wait to start rehearsing!
Jesus’ ride into Jerusalem, before His crucifixion, was the spot where Jenna’s cat was to make her appearance.
Jenna explained. “I thought a cat might’ve been in the crowd when they were waving the palm branches.”
“Could’ve been. I don’t see why not.” She reached over and petted Sasha. “What do you think of that? You’re going to be a biblical cat for one day.”
The comment didn’t seem to phase Sasha. Livvy wondered how Jen was going to get her cat to cooperate, but she didn’t inqu
ire. She continued reading.
Several times, Jen stopped her and scurried across the room, red pencil in hand. “Hold on a minute,” she said. “That’s dull.”
Once, the dialogue sounded too modern for Bible times. “That’s too much like new-millennium lingo,” Jenna said. “Scratch that line.”
Livvy read on. At last, she came to the ending. The stone covering the garden tomb had been rolled away. Jesus was gone—resurrected by God himself!
She could hardly read the finale, it was so exciting. And super wonderful. Looking across the room at Jenna, she said, “I didn’t know you could write like this.”
“Well, we were pen pals . . . don’t you remember my letters?” Jen was laughing now, coming over to sit on the bed.
“Oh sure, they were always fantastic,” Livvy agreed. “I didn’t mean they weren’t. But this . . .” She looked down at the stack of pages in her lap. “This play is going to be really great.”
“Too bad Manda has to go to Kansas,” Jen said.
Livvy straightened the pages, then handed them back to Jenna. “She must be close to her grandparents.”
“I think you’re right,” Jen said.
Livvy held her breath, worried that Jenna might ask about the situation with Grandma Hudson. When she didn’t, Livvy asked, “When can we start practicing?”
“Is it actually ready? What about rewrites?”
She smiled at her friend. “You’re starting to sound like our English teacher.”
Jenna crossed her eyes. “She’d probably make me edit and proofread it ten more times. At least.”
“I have a feeling you’ve already done that.”
Jenna was modest about her play. “Believe it or not, I prayed before I wrote a single word.”
“I’m not surprised. It shows.” Livvy meant it.
* * *
At supper, Jenna’s mother served a Korean rice dish to her husband and Jenna. She offered an American dish—chicken-fried steak and mashed potatoes—to Livvy.
Girls Only! Page 5