Read Online Holly's Heart Collection One by Beverly Lewis - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Beverly Lewis
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of good the snickerdoodles did. Back in my bedroom, I stared glumly at the plate. One lone cookie was left. I picked it up and ate it. Without licking my fingers, I shuffled the pages of our Loyalty Papers. Who cared if they got messy. They were useless now.
At last, I set off for the lower-level family room. There, I joined Carrie for a DVD cartoon, trying to get both Andie and Jared off my mind. But nothing could stop me from thinking about Jared—hurt and possibly alone—in a hospital room.
After the cartoon, I purposely grabbed Mom’s attention by juggling four cookies at a time. When I quit showing off, the kitchen floor was a crumby mess. Goofey licked up the sweet crumbs.
“Something’s really troubling you, Holly,” Mom said, handing over the broom to me. “You’re not yourself.”
“It’s Jared. No…it’s Andie. She and I both like him. And now everything’s a disaster.”
Mom thought a moment. Then she said, “Why can’t the three of you be friends?” She said it so innocently, I thought surely she must be joking.
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Well, enlighten me,” she said, rinsing out a rag for me to wash the spots off the floor.
I got down on the floor, scrubbing up the mess I’d made. “I think Jared wants me to be his girlfriend, and Andie’s totally freaked out about it.” I looked up at her from all fours.
“Wait a minute—be his girlfriend? And how do you see that working when you can’t date?”
“We wouldn’t be dating, Mom.” This was hopeless. “It just means we’d being hanging out together at school and church and, well, you know. Places we’re already going anyway.” I got up and tossed the dirty rag into the sink.
Mom was studying me. Hard. “Hang out, you say?”
“Right.”
“I see,” she said. But of course she didn’t. The days when Mom was a teen were long past.
Later in the afternoon Carrie and I tagged along when Mom went grocery shopping. At the check-out, we bagged the food for her, racing to see who could get the most in each bag.
“Oops, this isn’t working,” Carrie said, bending over to retrieve one of the grocery sacks. Two boxes of microwave popcorn tumbled out.
“Look out!” I cried as two oranges also found their freedom, rolling under the counter.
The clerk announced the grand total, casting a peculiar look and a frown at Mom.
“Big mistake bringing you along,” I told Carrie as I reached around the back of the counter, groping for the oranges.
“Mom! Holly’s being a pain,” Carrie whined.
Mom looked frazzled with stress. “Please go and wait in the car.” She dangled the car keys in my face.
“Send Carrie. This is all her fault.” I glared at my sister.
“I want you to go now,” Mom said again.
“Perfect,” I whispered.
Outside in the cold car, I turned on the ignition. Grandpa Meredith had let me start his car last summer when they came to visit. I’d even backed it in and out of the driveway dozens of times.
Shivering, I stayed seated in the driver’s seat and turned on the heater full blast. The lights of the village began to twinkle on as dusk approached. Mom had no right to send me out here this way. What had I done to deserve such treatment?
Pulling a tablet out of the glove compartment, I began to write:
Dear Daddy. It was time for an answer to his invitation. Way past time.
When I saw Mom and Carrie coming toward the car with the groceries, I scrambled over the front seat and sat in the back, hiding the half-written note in my coat pocket.
Mom doesn’t need to know about this, I thought, feeling sneaky and good about my secret.
The next day was Sunday. Once again, I had trouble concentrating on the sermon. Andie, who was sitting across from us, next to her parents, looked much too confident. Her brunette hair, perfectly in place, framed her round face. Oh, I could just imagine her playing the piano for Jared, their eyes catching snatches of each other’s unspoken adoration. It
At last, I set off for the lower-level family room. There, I joined Carrie for a DVD cartoon, trying to get both Andie and Jared off my mind. But nothing could stop me from thinking about Jared—hurt and possibly alone—in a hospital room.
After the cartoon, I purposely grabbed Mom’s attention by juggling four cookies at a time. When I quit showing off, the kitchen floor was a crumby mess. Goofey licked up the sweet crumbs.
“Something’s really troubling you, Holly,” Mom said, handing over the broom to me. “You’re not yourself.”
“It’s Jared. No…it’s Andie. She and I both like him. And now everything’s a disaster.”
Mom thought a moment. Then she said, “Why can’t the three of you be friends?” She said it so innocently, I thought surely she must be joking.
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“Well, enlighten me,” she said, rinsing out a rag for me to wash the spots off the floor.
I got down on the floor, scrubbing up the mess I’d made. “I think Jared wants me to be his girlfriend, and Andie’s totally freaked out about it.” I looked up at her from all fours.
“Wait a minute—be his girlfriend? And how do you see that working when you can’t date?”
“We wouldn’t be dating, Mom.” This was hopeless. “It just means we’d being hanging out together at school and church and, well, you know. Places we’re already going anyway.” I got up and tossed the dirty rag into the sink.
Mom was studying me. Hard. “Hang out, you say?”
“Right.”
“I see,” she said. But of course she didn’t. The days when Mom was a teen were long past.
Later in the afternoon Carrie and I tagged along when Mom went grocery shopping. At the check-out, we bagged the food for her, racing to see who could get the most in each bag.
“Oops, this isn’t working,” Carrie said, bending over to retrieve one of the grocery sacks. Two boxes of microwave popcorn tumbled out.
“Look out!” I cried as two oranges also found their freedom, rolling under the counter.
The clerk announced the grand total, casting a peculiar look and a frown at Mom.
“Big mistake bringing you along,” I told Carrie as I reached around the back of the counter, groping for the oranges.
“Mom! Holly’s being a pain,” Carrie whined.
Mom looked frazzled with stress. “Please go and wait in the car.” She dangled the car keys in my face.
“Send Carrie. This is all her fault.” I glared at my sister.
“I want you to go now,” Mom said again.
“Perfect,” I whispered.
Outside in the cold car, I turned on the ignition. Grandpa Meredith had let me start his car last summer when they came to visit. I’d even backed it in and out of the driveway dozens of times.
Shivering, I stayed seated in the driver’s seat and turned on the heater full blast. The lights of the village began to twinkle on as dusk approached. Mom had no right to send me out here this way. What had I done to deserve such treatment?
Pulling a tablet out of the glove compartment, I began to write:
Dear Daddy. It was time for an answer to his invitation. Way past time.
When I saw Mom and Carrie coming toward the car with the groceries, I scrambled over the front seat and sat in the back, hiding the half-written note in my coat pocket.
Mom doesn’t need to know about this, I thought, feeling sneaky and good about my secret.
The next day was Sunday. Once again, I had trouble concentrating on the sermon. Andie, who was sitting across from us, next to her parents, looked much too confident. Her brunette hair, perfectly in place, framed her round face. Oh, I could just imagine her playing the piano for Jared, their eyes catching snatches of each other’s unspoken adoration. It
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