“Let’s go upstairs,” Roxie said. “Mom, let us know when the pizza arrives.”
“Sure thing, kiddo,” Jen said.
Once they were safely inside Roxie’s room, Holly spoke up. “I know you have something up your sleeve, so you’d better tell me now.”
“You are going to eat, then Kayla and I are gonna help you with your math, and we do not want to be disturbed. Because your grades are terrible.”
“But—” Holly said.
“Listen. But instead of your studying here in my room, you can sneak over to Miss Carol’s for at least an hour and practice.” Roxie plopped down on her bed, her eyes sparkling with mischief.
“What if your mom decides to come looking for me? Worse, what if my dad does? I’d be toast, for sure,” Holly said.
“It’s the best I can come up with. What about it, Kayla?” Roxie asked. “Do you think it’s a good idea?”
“It’s better than anything I can come up with,” Kayla said.
“So, we have pizza, race back upstairs, and I sneak over to Miss Carol’s.” Holly said this to Roxie just to make sure she was on the same page.
“Yes, and I’ll make sure we’re not disturbed. If Mom comes upstairs, I’ll just tell her you’re in the bathroom. It’s simple. You can take the back trails, and no one will see you.”
“I do not want you to get in trouble, either. I don’t like lying to your mom. And I do not like your telling lies to your mom, either.”
“It’s your choice, I’m just trying to help,” Roxie said. “I know how important this Christmas musical is to you. Plus, think about all the years our parents lied to us, telling us Santa Claus crawled down the chimney to deliver our presents.”
Holly was seated on the bed next to Roxie and flopped over onto her side, since she was laughing so hard. Kayla caught on, and the three laughed until their sides hurt.
“I think that’s okay for parents,” Kayla said when she stopped laughing.
“It’s called a double standard,” Roxie said. “At least I think it is.”
There was a tap on the door, and they quickly pulled out books and notepads. “Girls, the pizza is here,” Jen said through the crack in the door. “Come get it while it’s hot.”
“Be right down, Mom,” Roxie called. “All we have to do is cram a slice of pizza in our mouths, then we’ll come back to my room to study. She knows I’d never pass up a cookie pizza, so I’ll just bring each of us a slice, and Mom will have no reason to bother us. So what do you think?” Roxie asked Holly.
“I think if my dad catches me, I’m grounded for life,” Holly said. “I’m not sure if this is worth all this sneaking around. The musical will be open to the public. The Upside plasters announcements about it everywhere. It’s going to be hard to practice, but once the musical starts, he’ll know and ground me, but it will be worth it.”
Chapter 12
Ivy did not even bother taking the keys out of the ignition when she pulled into her driveway. All she wanted was a drink to blot out the images of those three cold marble headstones etched with a date she would never forget.
Inside, she partly filled a glass with ice and tonic water. She pulled a fresh bottle of ice-cold vodka from the freezer, then grabbed a lime from the large bowl of citrus fruits she kept next to the sink. She filled the rest of the tall glass with vodka, then squeezed half a lime into the chilled glass. She did not even bother with her usual routine of television and relaxing on the sofa before she took her first drink of the day. She stood at the sink and downed it as fast as she could. Her throat burned, and her eyes watered, but it was not from the liquor. It was from holding back the tears that she had been forced to keep at bay in order to drive home without getting into an accident. Now, with her tears blinding her, she didn’t try to hold back the tortured sobs that practically choked her.
Ivy sobbed until her eyes were red and swollen, and she could barely breathe because her nose was so stuffed up. Taking a deep breath, she turned the water on and splashed it over her face until it was numb from the cold. She used a tea towel to dry her face. She wanted another drink, but something was holding her back. It wasn’t a physical craving; it was the emotional numbness that she craved. Out of the blue, Ivy had an epiphany. By drowning her sorrows in alcohol, she had committed a great disservice to her family’s memory.
Why had she never thought of this before? Had the situation been reversed, John would not have cut himself off from the world. He would not have worked diligently to chase away all their good memories with a bottle. Yes, he would have been devastated, but he would not have given up on life. And he certainly would not want to see her this way.
She got all that, but what about her precious children? It was so hard even after all this time. They’d been practically babies. Had they lived, they would be eleven years old now.
“God, what have I done?” she cried out.
Knowing she had to find answers for herself in order to move forward, and before she second-guessed herself, she emptied the entire bottle of vodka in the sink. Knowing there were several more bottles of vodka and whiskey in the pantry, she gathered them up and brought them to the kitchen, where she proceeded to empty each one down the drain. When she finished, she squirted liquid dish detergent in the sink and let the hot water clear the cloying scent of the whiskey from the kitchen. She grabbed a large garbage bag from beneath the sink and stuffed it full with the empty bottles. She turned off the water, then grabbed the bag so she could stuff it in the garbage can outside.
She crammed the bag inside the bin and saw that there were at least five other bags filled with mostly vodka and whiskey bottles. Glad there was no one around to witness her shame, she closed the bin and went back inside.
She did not know what to do with herself. She had established a routine and stuck to it for so long, she felt disjointed, out of sorts. She gazed around the living room, searching for her jacket. Draped over the back of the chair, she put it on, grabbed a bottle of water, and went outside, heading for the trails behind her house. She had been doing this for so long, she was familiar with the scent of the wild honeysuckle, the kudzu vines that grew wildly on the banks, weaving around the tree trunks. Sugar maples and giant oak trees canopied her usual route, almost like a nature-made tunnel. She remembered when she was a child, hiking the trails with her dad. He’d taught her the names of many wild plants, but in her grief, while she recognized many, their names were long forgotten. Would she have taught her children the names of North Carolina’s native plants and trees? Never once since she had lost her family had she consciously contemplated what their lives would have been like if they had lived?
Would she have continued to work? Would she have been the kind of mother to volunteer for school functions? Would she and John have chosen to send them to public or private schools? There were so many moments she would never have, and she knew this, even accepted it, but it was so very sad now. They would be in their last year of elementary school, had they lived. She wanted to scream, shout, and beg to be given that day back because she would never have allowed her family to leave.
John’s sister, Piper, called at least once a month to check on her. Since the accident that destroyed Ivy’s family, Piper had finished her last tour in Afghanistan and had gotten married. The last Ivy heard, Piper was pregnant. Her in-laws had moved to The Villages in Florida and sent a postcard now and then. She had pushed them away, too. They reminded her of John and all that she had lost.
And why today? she wondered as she walked up a steep trail behind her house. Had her father’s talk of retirement, selling both the airline and her childhood home, triggered her back to reality? Ivy did not know, maybe would never know, but she was darn well going to do everything in her power to try to make some kind of life for herself.
No matter what, however, she simply could not go back to work for Macintosh Air, much less take it over. That was out of the question. She had had eight long years to think about her future, and she ha
d not thought about anything other than her family. But the one thing she knew was that whatever the future would bring, it would not include Macintosh Air. No way!
She stopped when she reached the top of a small incline, her usual resting spot. Mother Nature’s hand had removed several of the giant pines that had once encircled the area. Ivy liked the openness; she could see the mountaintops; the Carolina skies were so blue, it almost hurt to look at them. A flat rock that had been here since she and John purchased the house was her resting place. She took a deep breath, inhaling the cool, crisp, autumn air. The Blue Ridge Mountains surrounding her glistened like a chest of sacred jewels; the many shades of deep oranges, reds, and yellows were a sight to behold.
Her father used to tell her that autumn in the mountains was God’s way of allowing one an inside glimpse into his treasure chest before he closed it for the winter. She had not really understood then, but looking around her, she did now. The colors were not man-made, of that she was sure. How had she allowed herself to overlook such beauty? She told herself it was okay, since she had spent most of her days in a stupor and could not have appreciated the beauty even if she had wanted to. Come what may, it was not like she could take back the last eight years. Though she would have given her soul to do so, it clearly was not in the plan, God’s plan. So many nights she had prayed for just one more day with her family, even an hour, just five minutes, so she could tell each of them how much she loved them.
Of course she could not turn back the hands of time, but one could wish. She opened her water and took a drink, stood up, and decided she would check out some newer trails, or ones she was not quite as familiar with. Though she had chugged the vodka and tonic down like water, she felt no effects. It took at least four drinks for her to even begin to feel a bit woozy.
“I’m not going to take another drink of alcohol, ever,” she said, glad there was no one around to hear her. And she wouldn’t. She would do whatever she had to do to detox, and when all of the alcohol was out of her system, she promised herself she would start to live again.
Standing up, she stretched her legs, did a few squats, then headed back to the house, as the days were getting shorter, and darkness coming much earlier. The last thing she needed was getting lost in the dark, though she was pretty sure she would find her way home. However, with all that had happened today, she was not willing to take the risk.
Chapter 13
Holly ate so fast, her stomach hurt, but she had to do this. As soon as she finished eating, she slipped out the back door, promising she would run as fast as she could. Holly stopped once to check the map Roxie had drawn for her. Miss Carol’s was not that far, but she already felt like she had been running for miles. She had to catch her breath or she would be totally useless when she arrived. Sure that she was on the right path, and having caught her breath, she started to sing. Quietly at first, then she figured that since no one was around, she might as well give it her all. This would count as practice, too. So she raised her voice and began to sing a bit louder. As she wound her way up and down the paths, she continued to sing her song. When she had finished her favorite pop song, she began to sing “Ave Maria,” softly, as she had heard it on YouTube when she had used the school library’s computer last week. Excited, she had added this song to the list she had made for Miss Carol. Most of the songs she had planned to sing were traditional Christmas carols, but Holly wanted to sing something significant, something meaningful for the Christmas season. Sure that Miss Carol could help her choose an appropriate song, she saw the deep curve on the map and ran the rest of the way. When she appeared in Miss Carol’s backyard, she waited a few seconds, then walked around to the front door.
She lifted her hand to knock, but the door opened before her hand touched the wood. “I was starting to worry about you,” Miss Carol said. She stepped aside and motioned for Holly to come in.
“I stopped by Roxie’s for pizza.” At least that much was true.
“Pizza is always good. Ollie’s?” Miss Carol asked.
“Yes, of course,” Holly said. “It is the best pizza ever, but, then again, the only pizza I have ever had is Ollie’s.”
“Then you’ll always know good pizza. You do not have to go to Chicago or New York for a good slice of pie. Believe me about that.”
“Is that what they call pizza up North?” Holly asked as she followed Miss Carol to the music room at the very back of the house.
“Some folks do. I think it probably depends on what part of the country you’re from. Us Southern folks just call it pizza, and Ollie’s is the best around Pine City, no doubt about that.”
Miss Carol’s music room was totally the coolest room ever. One entire wall was covered in framed sheet music signed by its creator. Shelving on the wall opposite held two violins, three different styles of guitars, and, in the corner, a set of drums. But the real showpiece was the Steinway grand piano that sat in the center of the room. There had never been a time when Holly entered Miss Carol’s music room that she had not been overwhelmed. Today wasn’t any different.
The room literally took her breath away. There were all sorts of instruments casually lying about. Holly knew this was intended to make the room more appealing, and all, but she also knew that Miss Carol could play all of the instruments, and she did so better than anyone Holly knew. Add in the fact Miss Carol was a retired music teacher and her very best friend, at this exact moment, Holly was 100 percent totally happy. She pushed all thoughts of half-truths and lies aside and focused on the here and now.
“I have all the sheet music we need, after all. Now, young lady, do you want to go through a few vocal exercises before we get started?”
“Sure,” Holly replied. Even though she had warmed up on the walk over, a little extra work never hurt.
Miss Carol sat down on the piano bench and hit a middle note, as she knew these were sometimes the toughest notes to carry through. Holly went through the required eh eh eh eh eh, then continued with higher and lower notes. After half an hour, her throat started to close up and feel tight. She knew this was time to rest.
“I think I have had enough,” she said.
“That’s excellent, Holly. Most vocalists do not know when to stop. You do, and that’s the true mark of a professional.” She closed the lid over the ivory keyboard, then tucked the sheets of music inside the piano bench.
“How about a cup of hot chocolate? It’ll warm those vocal cords.”
Holly would love to have a cup of hot chocolate, but she had to make it back to Roxie’s before Jen realized she was missing. “Thanks, but I have to go home and study. Dad says if I don’t bring my math grade up, he’ll ground me for the rest of the year.”
“Now, surely, he would not do that, especially knowing how hard you’re going to practice these next few weeks.”
It is now or never, Holly thought as she considered her response. “Dad doesn’t want me to sing in the musical.”
There, she had said it.
Miss Carol tilted her head to the side. “Are you sure of this? Absolutely sure? I cannot imagine why not.” She sounded as perplexed as Holly did when anything related to music was raised in connection with her father. “Of course he wants you to keep your grades up, but you surely have misunderstood him about singing in the musical?”
She shook her head. “No. He hates music. I’m never allowed to sing in the house or play music. I don’t even own a radio or any device that plays music. Dad just says it’s noise, and he hates noise.” Holly felt such embarrassment at this admission.
Miss Carol looked as if she had been hit by a giant bulldozer. She shook her head. “Then how did you learn to sing so well? Where? Who?”
Holly bunched up her shoulders. “I don’t know. I listen to music when I can at school. Roxie and Kayla have MP3 players. We watch music videos a lot.” It was weird admitting this now. She had known Miss Carol since she was little and just assumed she knew . . . She did not know what she assumed about Miss Carol. She
knew her father from The Upside, knew her mom had died when she was very small.
But she suddenly realized that Miss Carol only knew the singing Holly, the happy Holly, the humble Holly. She did not know the girl who lay in bed at night wishing for a long-lost relative to come and whisk her away to a life that was more loving, where music was not considered something bad, and when she wanted to belt out Rhianna’s current hit, she could do so without the fear of being told to stop. Though in all fairness, her father had not exactly told her she could not sing. But he didn’t have to. She just knew.
“I see,” Miss Carol commented.
Holly knew there were a million questions to be asked and answered, but right now all she could focus on was how long it would take her to get to Roxie’s if she ran all the way. She had been gone almost an hour, more than enough time to finish their cookie pizza and study. She did not want her two best friends to get in trouble because of her.
“I better go” was all Holly could say. “I really need to study. I’ll try to come back tomorrow. Same time. If that’s okay?” she asked as she inched her way down the hall toward the front door.
Tomorrow was Saturday. No way would she be able to return, but she did not say this. She would come up with an excuse on Monday. Her dad was always holed up in his den on weekends. No way could she sneak out because, as soon as she did, that’s when he’d come looking for her.
“Yes, yes. Anytime. I’m here all day. We’ll rehearse tomorrow.”
Holly wanted to give Miss Carol a hug, but she felt awkward and gangly all of a sudden. “Bye, see you later,” she called out before racing around to the backyard, which led to the trail back to Roxie’s. If she ran as fast as she could, she would just make it.
She glanced at the map once more to make sure she knew exactly where the path branched off into three separate paths. Stuffing the map in her jeans pocket, she took a deep breath, then ran as fast as she could. Uphill, downhill around the deep curve where the trees shaded the trail from the late-afternoon sun. It was practically dark out, she noticed as she scrunched under a couple of low-hanging branches. She hadn’t paid attention to the trees on the run over. The sun was blazingly blue and bright when she had left Roxie’s, and she had not felt as closed in as she did now. She stopped to catch her breath and pulled the map out for a second look. Sure she was heading in the right direction, she picked up her pace, with thoughts of joining the track team when she was in high school. Running and jumping over tree branches was fun, though she did not remember seeing this many trees on the run over to Miss Carol’s. Or this many fallen branches. But she had not really paid attention. She was trying to get to Miss Carol’s and back in an hour, she told herself. Of course she had not been paying attention. She stopped again; though this time, a faint trickle of fear eased its way up her spine and settled in the pit of her stomach. Glancing around her, she saw nothing that looked even remotely familiar. As directionally challenged as she was, she knew she had not gone this way before.
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