Mom listened.
I continued. “Daddy built this house for us—you, Carrie, and me. He designed the house with his kids in mind. How could I ever begin to let you take my room and turn it into a . . .” I sputtered angrily at the thought. “Into a nursery for your baby?”
She responded softly, almost sadly. “Holly, do you really think we’re scheming to take away your room? It’s only one of the options we have in mind.”
“I need time to write.” I ignored what she’d just said. “I have an incredible opportunity to become a published book author. This year! But I need my space, and I have to be able to think and write without—”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” she interrupted. “When did you find out? How . . . what’s this all about?”
I told her about the initial conversation with Jared.
Mom literally beamed. “What good news! Oh, I’m so excited for you.”
“Do you understand better now?” I said, using the writing project as an excuse for being upset. Of course, that wasn’t entirely true.
“You should have told us immediately,” she said, “when you first heard about the publisher.”
And I wish you’d told me about the baby when you first found out, I thought, biting my tongue. That was the number-one reason I was so ticked.
She let go of my hand. “I really wish you hadn’t gone behind our backs and called the law office.”
“It might seem like I did that, but I didn’t, not entirely. I talked to Daddy about it. Last night when I called him.”
She gasped. “You mentioned this to your father?”
“He’ll let me come live there. I’m sure of it,” I said with a confidence I didn’t really feel. “I’ll have a large, private bedroom suite and study area. It’s perfect, don’t you see? Besides, Daddy can have his attorney look into it. No hassles for you and Uncle Jack.”
Mom’s face fell. “I’m not an unfit mother, Holly,” she whispered. “No court in the land would change custody based on a whim.”
I was fired up. “They would if I took the stand and testified. Not against you or Uncle Jack but just to say where I wanted to live. How I feel about it. Judges are leaning more and more in favor of kids these days.” I sighed. “What is in the best interest of Holly Suzanne Meredith? Have you thought of it that way?”
“For heaven’s sake, you sound like a spoiled . . .”
“Go ahead, say it. I’m a spoiled brat.”
“Where are you getting such ridiculous, selfish ideas?”
I didn’t dare tell her I’d stayed up late reading Tricia’s Secret Journey. Most of my ideas had come from Marty Leigh’s shrewd and conniving characters.
“Where on earth?” she demanded.
Mom had just lashed out at me. Now I had to turn the tables on her. Stick up for what I believed in. “Why shouldn’t living with my father part of the time be an option for me? Why?”
She shook her head. “Please, Holly. Don’t push this.”
“But what if adding another kid to this household destroys my entire future as a writer?” I insisted. “What about that?”
She eased off the bed slowly. “You’re not making sense.”
“I know the feeling,” I mumbled under my breath. “By the way, when can we discuss the phone-calling rule?”
“Maybe we won’t need to.” There was a strange, icy edge to her words. “If you’re moving out, why would you need to call home after school?” With that, she burst into tears and left the room.
I could hear Uncle Jack’s gentle voice at the end of the hall as she went to him for comfort, no doubt.
Whew, was I in trouble now!
EIGHT IS ENOUGH
Chapter 14
I kept running into Jared Wilkins all day at school. Although I felt responsible for breaking Mom’s heart, I felt confident enough in myself to remind Jared again that we were nothing more than friends.
I complained to my friends about him during lunch. “When will he ever get it through his head? He and I . . . we’re through.”
Andie, Paula, and Kayla listened, sympathizing with me.
“You know Jared: If he’s not with someone, he always wants to be,” Andie reminded us. “This will pass as soon as he finds his next victim.”
The twins laughed. “She’s right,” Paula said.
“Well, I hope so.” I opened my carton of chocolate milk.
“So . . . what’s everyone think about the new Marty Leigh book?” I asked.
Andie snorted. “Everybody’s not reading that book!”
I grinned. “You’re right, and what a mistake. You’re totally missing out.”
Kayla nodded. “I love how she wraps everything up in the end. It’s really amazingly satisfying and truly wonderful.”
“Don’t tell me what happens,” I said, dying to know, but eager to read it for myself.
Paula fluffed her hair, frowning. “I have a feeling I know exactly where you got your ideas about living with your dad.”
“What do you mean?” I was playing dumb.
“You know—the joint custody thing in the book,” Paula said. “It was Tricia’s idea first, long before it was yours. I’m right, and you know it.”
I thought back to last Saturday at the bookstore, when I’d read the back of the book. Paula was right; I had gotten the idea from the book.
I sighed dramatically. “Look at it this way—maybe it was meant to be. Maybe I was supposed to read Tricia’s Secret Journey at this stage in my life.”
“Oh, please! Surely you aren’t saying it was planned by God,” Andie said. “I think you’re stirring up trouble for your mom and dad. They’ve already been through a divorce; why do you have to start something stupid like this?”
“My wishes and desires are not stupid!”
Andie stared at me. “I hardly know you anymore, Holly-Heart. It’s like your personality has been altered somehow.”
“Really? Is that what you think?” I stared back at her, then at the twins. “Do all of you think this?”
“Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to agree with a personality change,” Paula spoke up. “But I do think you should wait, give your mom a chance to have her baby, and then decide. It’s the kind thing to do.”
Kayla was nodding her approval. “I agree with Paula. Why not wait and see how things go after the baby comes?”
“Seems logical to me,” Andie said.
I took a long drink of chocolate milk. “Then, none of you are on my side?”
“What do you mean?” Paula asked. “This has nothing to do with taking sides.”
“Seems like it,” I muttered into my milk carton.
“Well, why don’t you come to youth group tonight? You missed last week,” Paula said.
“Yeah, we’ll save you a seat,” Kayla offered. “Okay?”
I gave in to their suggestion, realizing once again that they really did care. No one was siding against me. Not really.
We had a substitute teacher in French class, and she hadn’t the slightest idea how to either speak or write the language. So she gave us free study time.
Gratefully, I used the fifty minutes to work on my novella. Perfect. I had decided to wait until the very end of the book to think of a fabulous title, but the more I wrote, the more I realized that a good title was essential to the entire structure of the story.
That’s what I’ll do tonight, I thought. After youth group.
I would create a sensational title. Titles, after all, caught book editors’ attention first. I certainly didn’t want to lose the opportunity to impress Jared’s uncle, the publisher.
Speaking of Jared, he was waiting for me after French class. “Hey, I found out the deadline for our manuscripts.” He fell into step with me.
“Really? When is it?”
“March 15.”
“That’s good. Mom’s delivery date is still over a month away.” Perfect timing. “I’ll have my story finished long before that time.”
/> If all goes well at home, I thought.
“So how’s it coming—the writing, I mean?” he asked.
“Really great. What about yours?”
“Cool.” He flashed a heart-stopping grin. “Thanks for asking.’
“It was just a simple question,” I told him. “Don’t read anything into it.”
“Aw, Holly, stop being so defensive.”
“I think it’s time for me to go.” I turned to leave. No sense hanging around. Jared was still driving me crazy.
“Wait, uh, Holly. Would it be okay if I walked you to your locker?”
I studied him. This guy never, I mean never, gave up!
“C’mon, it’s no big deal,” he assured me. “Just a friendly gesture.”
“Oh, all right. Come on.” He had to hurry to keep up—it didn’t turn out to be the romantic hall stroll he might’ve anticipated. Basically, Jared ran behind me all the way to my locker. It was ridiculous what I was doing to him, but I had my reasons. No way was he going to get the wrong idea about me . . . us.
After school I needed to head straight home. Uncle Jack had told me in no uncertain terms during breakfast that I was on restriction. Not surprising. I’d dished out some pretty nasty stuff to Mom this morning, thanks to my lousy attitude.
Mentally, I abandoned the power struggle over the after school phoning rule and hurried to the bus stop. The rule wasn’t worth the fight. Besides, I had a hunch there might be some mail waiting for me, so I didn’t mind going right home.
My hunch was correct. Sean’s letter lay on top of the pile of mail on the corner desk in the kitchen. Mom had probably placed it there so I’d see it right away. Funny, she never held a grudge. Never.
Quickly, I opened the envelope and leaned on the island in the middle of the kitchen, reading the letter.
Saturday, January 20
Dear Holly,
I’m afraid I have some bad news. Remember the group of middle schoolers I told you about—Power House? Well, there have been a few problems with some of the younger kids— parental permission, finances, etc.—and it looks as though we are not coming to Dressel Hills to ski as planned.
At the present time, the adult leaders are leaning toward going to San Diego for the weekend of February 16.
I’m sorry about this turn of events, Holly. I had no idea our personal plans would have to be altered like this. I really wanted a chance to celebrate your birthday with you, even if it was going to be two days late.
More than anything, I hope there will be many other opportunities to see each other.
The words on the page faded, blurred in a flood of tears. More than anything . . . other opportunities . . . not coming . . .
I ran, sobbing, to my room.
“Something’s wrong with Holly,” I heard Carrie say as I closed my bedroom door. I wanted to lock it—shut the whole world out. Crying my eyes out was all I could do.
Poor Goofey, helpless to know how to comfort me, meowed out of concern and pushed his furry back up against me as I lay on the bed.
Minutes later someone tapped on my door. “Holly?” It was Mom. “Is there anything I can do?”
I couldn’t speak for the tears.
“Holly-Heart?”
This was one time—one of the very few times in my life—I desperately needed to be left alone. Ordinarily, when I was sad or depressed, I wanted someone to pursue me, help me through my pain, even if I insisted I didn’t. I was weird that way.
At this moment, however, I needed time to cry. Time to feel sorry for myself. Sean wasn’t coming to Colorado after all. Our plans, all of them, had melted away with this letter.
No one else—no one—could possibly understand what I was feeling. Any coaxing or offering of sympathy would be useless.
“Holly?” Mom called again.
“I can’t talk now,” I managed to say, hoping with all my heart she’d believe me and leave me alone.
“Okay, honey,” she replied, “but I’m just down the hall if you need me.”
Need me. Of course I needed her. Maybe not at this instant, but later, if I ever got over this horrible disappointment. Mom was my mainstay, my rock-solid support in life—the one I’d always counted on, the only one who’d never let me down.
But now, the way things stood between us . . . how could I possibly expect kind words from her after the heart-wrenching things I’d said this morning?
Holding the letter, I reread Sean’s words. He wouldn’t be coming for my fifteenth birthday. That meant there’d be no snow party with the Dressel Hills youth group. No first date with the one and only Sean Hamilton.
So much for bragging and blabbing about my California guy friend. If only I’d kept my big mouth shut.
EIGHT IS ENOUGH
Chapter 15
For the second week in a row, I couldn’t bring myself to attend youth group. Andie and the Miller twins might’ve thought I’d deceived them by saying I was coming. I hoped not, because I had fully intended to go when we discussed it at lunch.
But now . . . with my eyes swollen and my cheeks red from crying, well, it was totally pointless.
I stayed home and worked on coming up with a title for my novella. Nothing But the Heart was one of my stronger title options. I knew it might not be the one I would end up with, but as a working title it spurred me on.
Miraculously, with Stan and the rest of the kids out of the house at church clubs, I was able to write two more good chapters. I surprised myself. Usually when I was in a gray mood like tonight, nothing, absolutely nothing, flowed when it came to writing. Sometimes, though, my writing was therapy. Tonight, it was just that—keeping my mind off the big disappointment.
When I went to the kitchen for some pop, Uncle Jack and I avoided each other. Mom didn’t dodge me but seemed a little distant. Maybe she was hurt. Knowing Mom, she would survive. She always did.
As for me, things were piling up emotionally, like the steady snowfall outside. First the baby news, the custody issues, then Sean’s letter. What next?
My shoulders drooped as I headed back upstairs to edit my chapters.
Less than five minutes later Mom was at my door, knocking gently, almost hesitantly. “Your stepfather and I would like to see you for a minute.” She stated it so formally, I wondered if there was going to be additional discipline heaped upon me for the way I’d behaved this morning. Maybe going without phone calls and having to come straight home from school today wasn’t enough for my stepdad.
I dropped everything and left my room.
When I arrived, Uncle Jack was sitting at the dining room table, having a slice of frozen yogurt pie. Mom pulled out a chair next to him, and I, wanting a cushion of space between myself and the powers-that-be, sat at the far end of the table.
Uncle Jack glanced at Mom before he began. “Your father called here this afternoon, Holly . . . and spoke to your mother briefly.”
I felt my throat constrict, go instantly dry.
“Your father’s talking lawyers, court hearings, the works.” He studied me with serious eyes. “You’ve created quite a stir in the family.”
I was secretly pleased. Daddy was coming through for me, after all these years!
Mom started to sniffle, reaching into her pocket for a tissue. I hoped she wouldn’t cut loose and really start boohooing. But, at this advanced stage of her pregnancy, who was to know.
“As you can see,” Uncle Jack continued, “your mother is taking every bit of this very hard, kiddo.” He let his fork hang off the edge of his plate. “As for me, I’d like to see this difficulty worked out for the best of everyone concerned.”
“What about my best interests?” I blurted. “Isn’t that what the judge will look at?”
Mom sighed, folding her hands on the table. “We’re hoping it won’t go that far. We’d like to be able to work things out with you.”
“Me?” I coughed. “I’m the one feeling pushed out. You need my room for your nursery; I need the chance t
o breathe again. Daddy has the space for me to do that.”
“We’re in shock,” Mom said through a veil of tears. “How can we . . . I . . . let you go? You’re my first child, Holly-Heart. I love you so. . . .” Her voice trailed off, intermingled with tears.
“What’s so wrong with splitting my time between Colorado and California?” I wailed.
“What’s wrong is your attitude.” Uncle Jack was getting up now. He began to walk back and forth, rubbing his hands together like he was stirring up his thoughts. “You aren’t working with us—you’re fighting us. Fighting everything we’re trying to do for you.”
“How can you say that?” I shot back.
“Think about it,” he said softly.
I drew a deep breath. “Oh, I know, this must be about that stupid rule—that after-school phoning rule. You think I should just comply with it, even though I’m older now. Lots older than when Mom first created it. I never complained about it all those years before.”
Uncle Jack stood behind Mom’s chair, massaging her shoulders gently as she cried. “I don’t think we’re getting anywhere with this.” He looked over at me, concern in his eyes. “I want you to promise me one thing, Holly. Your father is in agreement with this, too.”
What is he going to say?
“We—all of us—want you to spend time praying about the joint custody decision. We’ll be praying, too.”
Mom was literally sobbing. Uncle Jack leaned down and whispered, “I think it would be best if you’d rest now, honey.” He kissed her on the top of her head. “We surely don’t want anything to happen. Not now.”
Mom got up with Uncle Jack’s help, leaving in tears from the dining room. I was outraged. Uncle Jack had just implied that I might be causing problems for Mom—for her pregnancy. How could he say that?
I would never do anything to cause Mom to lose . . . to lose the baby, I thought. Never!
The anger pounded in me. I stared at the man who was my uncle and stepdad rolled up in one. It was all I could do to control myself. Holding in my frustration only brought indignant tears. They fell unchecked.
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