James blinked in surprise. Everyone else cheered.
“And,” said Grace in a more serious voice, “I think it would be only right if we took a few moments to thank God for protecting you three. You have no idea how Allison and I labored in prayer for you—”
“I prayed, too,” said Winston.
“So did I,” echoed Heather.
“So did we,” said Muriel. “I think we all want to say thank you.”
Grace led them in a prayer of thanks, followed by a moment of silence. It was one of those times that Allison felt she would remember forever.
“And now,” said James, “I have an announcement. Grace and I had quite a long chat on the phone last night, and we have finally set our wedding date.” He glanced at Allison, as if asking if it was okay to spring this news on her, too. She smiled as if to say yes, and James continued. “We have decided to get married on New Year’s Eve.”
Everyone clapped, and congratulations were shared. Then Grace turned to Andrew. “I don’t mean to ruin the party, but I really think you kids should be getting on home now. After all, it’s a school night, and you must be tired after all you’ve been through. Do you mind driving Heather and Winston home while I help Muriel clean this up, Andrew?”
“Not at all, Grace.”
“I’ll help, too,” offered James. “Andrew, do you mind giving Allison a lift?”
“No problem.”
The four of them piled into the jalopy, and Winston continued to pummel his brother with dozens of questions as they headed for home.
“I’ll drop off Winston and Heather, if you don’t mind,” said Andrew. “Since our house is first.”
“That’s fine,” said Allison, thinking it would be nice to have a few words with Andrew in private.
“I feel like I’ve been gone for a long time,” said Andrew after he dropped off his siblings and drove toward her house. His voice sounded weary and not at all like him.
“I sort of know what you mean. But after all you’ve been through, it probably makes it seem even more that way.”
Andrew cleared his throat. “I was a little surprised to see Howie Ketchum here tonight.”
“Oh, he just wanted to get a photograph to go with my story for the paper. We thought it was a good opportunity.”
“Right,” said Andrew. But something about his tone didn’t sound right.
“I was surprised when he brought Shirley Jenson along,” said Allison. “And as usual, she has it out for me.”
“She says you stole her story.”
“I stole her story?” Allison repeated as she stared at Andrew. He couldn’t possibly believe that.
“Yep.” Andrew nodded. “Shirley seems to think that you and Howie have some little romance going on, and that somehow you sweet-talked him into printing your story instead of hers.”
Allison was too stunned to respond. She had expected Andrew to be happy for her, to be proud of her story—not suspicious. Since when did anyone take what Shirley Jenson said seriously anyway?
Andrew drove on in silence. He pulled up to her house but didn’t shut off the engine as he usually did, nor did he hop out to open her door for her. Allison waited for a moment. She wanted to ask him if he truly believed Shirley, but it seemed like such a ridiculous question. Andrew had to know the truth.
“Thanks for bringing me home,” she said lamely as she reached for the door handle.
“Sure.” Andrew sighed, then turned to look at her. “I guess I’m pretty worn out from our recent adventure, Allison.”
“Yes,” said Allison. “I’m sure you are, Andrew. Get some rest.”
Allison climbed down from the jalopy and went into the quiet house. For the second time that day, she felt as if someone had pulled the rug out from under her. She told herself Andrew was just tired. He probably didn’t realize what he was saying. By tomorrow he’d figure it out and maybe even apologize, if he hadn’t forgotten about the whole thing by then. Unfortunately, her troubles with Shirley probably wouldn’t evaporate so easily. But what else was new?
It was barely eight o’clock, but Allison felt exhausted. Still, she remembered she hadn’t written her weekly letter to her mother yet. She usually wrote to Marsha on Sunday evenings before bed, but with the recent events, she’d missed the last one. She sat down to her desk to write, and she told Marsha all about Dad’s flying enterprise and her story for the paper. She even told her about Shirley, without mentioning Andrew, of course. Only last summer she’d compared Shirley to Marsha, but her feelings toward Marsha had changed, and she no longer cast them in the same light. Now Shirley occupied a category all her own. Still, there might be some things Allison could learn from her relationship with her mother that could also be applied to Shirley, but for tonight she was too tired to figure it all out.
The one thing she did know was that she needed to forgive Shirley Jenson—once again—and probably not for the last time. She strongly suspected that God could show her how to deal with someone like Shirley if she asked Him.
And so she did.
“Great story about Andrew, Allison,” said Karen Brown as they walked toward the east gym for P.E. class. “I was waiting for Beverly to finish laying out the paper yesterday before cheerleading practice, so I took a few minutes to read it. I can’t wait to see the photos that Howie took.”
“Thanks,” said Allison quietly, fully aware that Shirley lagged just a few steps behind. Allison wasn’t eager for Shirley to overhear Karen’s praise.
“I hear the cheerleaders are responsible for the pep assembly on Friday,” said Allison in an attempt to change the subject.
“Yep,” said Karen. “Time to kick off basketball season. Between you and me, it doesn’t look like it’s going to be much of a season, though. I sure wish Mr. Andrew Amberwell liked basketball as much as he likes football.”
“Does he play basketball?” asked Allison.
“Nope.” Karen frowned dramatically. “He says he doesn’t care for the sport.”
For a moment Allison considered how fun it would be to sit in the stands and cheer as Andrew shot the winning basket. “That’s too bad.”
“Not too bad for the paper,” chirped Shirley from behind, obviously eavesdropping.
“How’s that?” asked Karen in an annoyed tone.
“Well, it just so happens that Andrew Amberwell is going to start writing for the paper soon,” said Shirley in her I-know-everything voice. “Beverly told me.”
“That Pirate Chest is getting to be pretty popular these days,” said Karen. “But at least having more kids to help on the paper should give Beverly time to keep up with her cheerleading responsibilities. Not that I blame her. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t gone out for the squad—it makes me miss out on so many other things.”
“You mean you’d give up being a cheerleader to work on the school paper?” asked Shirley, sounding shocked.
“Maybe,” said Karen thoughtfully. “Being a cheerleader isn’t that big of a deal, Shirley.”
“Maybe not to you,” snapped Shirley.
Karen just shrugged and went into the gym. “That girl,” she whispered to Allison as they lined up for roll call.
Thankfully, Allison managed to make it through to her last class without having an actual conversation with Shirley. But as she hurried out the door from her algebra class, she heard quick little heel clicks coming directly behind her.
“What’s the big rush, Allison?” called Shirley in a taunting voice.
Allison turned and faced Shirley, unsure what to expect. “No big rush,” she said casually. “I’d just like to get home, is all.”
“You mean you’re not off in hot pursuit of some big news-breaking story?”
Allison took in a slow, deep breath, praying a silent prayer for patience. “Look, Shirley, I’m really sorry that your story about the plane going down was tabled because of me, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Okay?”
Shirley folded her arms across her front and
knotted her brows together. No one could scowl quite like Shirley. “No, it’s not okay, Allison. You stole my story.”
Allison tried not to roll her eyes, determined to remain patient. “I did not steal your story, Shirley. I had no idea you were doing a story. I didn’t even know you were on the paper then. I wrote it right after I got off the phone with my dad. He gave me all the details.” Allison cocked her head slightly. “And where did you get all of your information, Shirley?”
“I have my sources.”
“Shirley, no one in town knew any of the details besides me and my family. Sure, Larry might have shot off his mouth about the plane going down, but he didn’t really know anything specific.”
“What makes you so sure?” insinuated Shirley.
Allison frowned. “Are you trying to say that Larry knew more?”
“I don’t reveal all my sources.”
Allison shook her head. “Look, Shirley, I don’t really care about your sources, but the fact is, I did not steal your story. And I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t spread that sort of rumor around school.”
Shirley laughed. “It’s a little late now.”
Allison felt her teeth clenching tightly, probably a good thing, since she was afraid the next words out of her mouth would be all wrong. She turned on her heel and marched off to her locker, grabbed her book bag, then stormed toward the exit. It was a good thing Wednesday wasn’t her day to work on the paper. One more moment spent in the company of Shirley could make the hydrogen bomb look like a party popper.
Naturally, it was raining in torrents outside. Allison pulled a rain scarf over her head and dashed out to where the jalopy was parked. Fortunately, Heather and Andrew were already waiting. She climbed inside and slammed the door with a loud bang.
“Looks like someone’s in a foul mood,” said Andrew.
Allison exhaled noisily through her nostrils. She wasn’t ready to speak. Especially to Andrew.
“What’s wrong, Allison?” asked Heather kindly.
“Don’t ask,” muttered Allison. “It’ll be fine as soon as I cool off a bit.”
“Let me guess,” said Heather. “Do the initials S. J. mean anything?”
Allison groaned. “She’s still accusing me of stealing her story. I think she’s probably told the whole school by now. And the paper comes out tomorrow. Everybody is going to think I’m a horrible reporter.”
Heather reached over and patted Allison’s arm. “Anybody with half a brain will know that you didn’t steal anyone’s story.”
Allison looked past Heather and tossed an accusing glance at Andrew. “You really think so, Heather?”
“Of course.” Heather smiled. “You shouldn’t let her get to you, Allison.”
Allison sighed. “I know . . .”
“Yeah,” agreed Andrew. “You know that nobody takes Shirley Jenson seriously.”
“You don’t say?” Allison said with raised brows as she remembered his words from last night.
Andrew just grinned sheepishly, then started the engine.
“Did you know that Shirley Jenson has been saying something about you lately, Andrew?” teased Allison.
Andrew’s eyes darted her way. “What’s that?”
Allison laughed lightly. “Goodness, could it be that you’re actually interested in something Shirley Jenson has to say?”
“I never said people weren’t interested, Allison. I only said that no one really takes her too seriously.”
“Oh yes. I see.” Allison shut her lips tightly, enjoying this moment of power over Andrew.
“Yes,” said Heather in a conspirator’s tone, as if teaming up with Allison. “Shirley Jenson certainly has said some interesting things in the past, don’t you think, Allison?”
Allison nodded. “Yes, she sure has. . . .”
“Come on, you two,” pleaded Andrew. “Cut it out and tell me what Shirley is saying about me.”
Allison laughed heartily this time. Soon Heather was giggling, too. Andrew’s face puckered up, and Allison couldn’t tell if it was from amusement or pure frustration. She finally felt sorry for him and stifled her giggles long enough to speak.
“Okay. Shirley told Karen and me that you are going to write for the Pirate Chest, too. So should we take Shirley seriously about this one or not?”
Andrew grinned. “All right, Allison. Shirley might be right about that.”
Allison nodded. “I see.”
“It’s no big deal. I would have started with the paper this fall, but football took too much of my time. Beverly asked me about becoming the sportswriter, and I thought it would be fun, plus I’ll get into all the sporting events for free.” Andrew chuckled. “And I figured it wouldn’t hurt for me to be around the paper to help keep tabs on you.”
Allison frowned. She could feign offense but thought better of it. The truth was she sort of liked the idea of Andrew checking up on her.
“This will be perfect,” said Heather. “Mrs. Foster, my orchestra teacher, asked me about staying after school a couple afternoons a week so I can practice clarinet. Now we can all ride home together.”
“Clarinet?” asked Allison.
“Yes, she thinks I’d be a natural, and I’d like to give it a try.”
“Well, aren’t we a talented little threesome,” teased Andrew. “Writers, musicians . . . who knows where we’ll end up.” Then he turned on the radio and they sang along.
“Hey, I forgot to mention that Grace wants you to stop by after school today, Allison,” said Heather. “The fabric arrived for the bridesmaid dresses. Since the pattern is fairly simple, she’s going to sew them herself, but she needs to get your measurements. Will that work?”
“Sure,” said Allison. “I forgot—what color is the fabric?”
“Grace says it’s powder pink.”
Allison made a face. She detested pink. Marsha had always said that regardless of what they say in fashion magazines, redheads should never wear pink. Oh well, it was only for one day, and Marsha wouldn’t be there.
“Grace is going to have a lot to do this month,” commented Allison. “Sewing dresses, preparing for the wedding, and she wants to help out at the airport.”
“I think she likes being busy,” said Andrew. “She seems happier than ever right now.”
Heather nodded. “Yes, it’s odd. Having the plane go down seemed to help her somehow. She seems a lot more relaxed about everything.”
“Sometimes a near catastrophe can do that,” said Andrew wisely. “It sort of puts things back into perspective.”
Allison nodded. “I know what you mean. Still, it feels like things are happening so fast. It’s hard to believe they’re really going to be married by the end of next month.”
“Well, don’t you think it’s about time they got it over with,” Andrew said in a matter-of-fact voice.
Allison glanced over at him. “Got it over with? Don’t make it sound so terribly romantic, Andrew.”
Andrew laughed. “I guess that wasn’t exactly what I meant. But if you think about it, they could have gotten married a long, long time ago.”
“But then where would I be?” asked Allison in a small voice. “Marsha may have her problems, but she is my mother.”
“And furthermore, Andrew,” scolded Heather, “where would we be if Grace hadn’t been in England when we lost our parents?”
Andrew smiled as he pulled in the driveway. “I guess you ladies make a pretty good point. God must’ve been in control all along.”
Allison was thankful when Grace took her into the privacy of her bedroom to measure her. She had no desire for Andrew to watch this humiliating process. Allison was well aware that Marsha claimed to be a perfect 36-24-36; Allison had to puff her chest out like a rooster to achieve a meager 32-22-32. Funny how only a year back she didn’t give a hoot about silly measurements. How things had changed.
Allison glanced around the simply furnished bedroom while Grace got out her measuring tape. Blue chenille bedsp
read, chintz curtains, a wooden rocker painted white, and a pine dresser. Nice and neat, but nothing fancy. Suddenly, Allison wondered if Grace might want to change things in Grandpa’s house when she moved in after the wedding. Allison felt it was absolutely perfect just the way it was. Grandmother Mercury, in Allison’s opinion, had shown wonderful taste and a great sense of decor. And Allison had never felt so completely at home anywhere else. She didn’t want a single thing to change.
“I think that takes care of it, Allison,” said Grace as she folded the tape measure back into her sewing basket. “Do you want to see the fabric?”
“I guess so, though I’m not terribly fond of pink. . . .”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” Grace pulled out the material, a very pale pink satin.
Allison touched the smooth fabric. “I guess for pink it’s not so bad, Grace. I’m sure the dresses will be okay. And after all, it’s only for one day.”
Grace laughed nervously. “It might be only one day to you, but I’m hoping it will be one of the happiest days of my life.”
Suddenly, Allison felt very selfish and immature. She threw her arms around Grace’s neck. “I’m so sorry, Grace. I must sound like a spoiled brat. It will be a wonderful day for all of us.”
“I know your dad announced it suddenly last night. I hope you didn’t mind, Allison. We had discussed it on the phone, but I don’t think he had the chance to tell you about it.”
“It’s okay, Grace. We all knew it was going to happen soon. I think I was just feeling grumpy because I’d had a difficult day with Shirley Jenson—again.”
Grace laughed. “In that case, I won’t take it personally. I think these dresses will look very pretty on you girls. I couldn’t imagine having lovelier bridesmaids.”
“Thanks,” said Allison. “I’m sure the dresses are going to be terrific. I better get home now. I have a mountain of homework to do.”
At dinner, Allison told her dad about the bridesmaid dresses, and how she hoped she hadn’t offended Grace by not liking pink.
“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” said James. “It takes quite a bit to offend Grace.”
Allison smiled. “Yes, it’s hard to fall from grace with Grace.”
Allison O'Brian on Her Own, Volume 2 Page 21