Girls Only! (8 page)

Follow the Dream

Chapter Fourteen

Livvy helped her grandmother clean up the kitchen. They scraped the plates and loaded the dishwasher. She wiped the counters, and Grandma wiped off the place mats on the table.

Soon, she and Dad were sitting down with Grandma in the living room. With great interest, they shared the scrapbook on three laps, examining each page. Creatively done, the album featured Livvy’s early childhood days.

Liv had to laugh at the various skating outfits. “So cute,” she said, pointing.

“Just look how tiny,” Grandma said.

Dad, too, seemed surprised at how small the skates were. “I didn’t know they made them that little,” he commented. “Or . . . did I?”

“You’ve simply forgotten, that’s all,” Grandma chided him.

Dad hugged Livvy close. “No more forgetting,” he promised. “How about if I go with you to practice tomorrow?”

Livvy held her breath, wondering if Grandma would protest. When no objection came, she nodded. “Maybe you could come twice a week . . . and Grandma twice.”

“And what about the other days?” Dad said, a cunning smile on his handsome face.

“On those days, I’ll go it alone.” She hoped Grandma would keep nodding her head.

“So . . . it’s settled, then,” Dad said with a clap of his hands.

Livvy realized her father had just now followed through with his promised “talk” to Grandma. He had done what he could to help smooth things out. To pave the way for Livvy’s freedom to follow her dream. Of course, he’d accomplished it in a roundabout sort of way. But that was Dad’s style, and it was okay.

When he disappeared to return to his studio, Livvy hung around the living room. She stayed curled up on the couch, waiting for Grandma to finish reading a magazine. Full of skating outfits and ideas, the trendy periodical had come in the day’s mail.

“I guess you’ve got your work cut out for you,” Liv said hesitantly.

Grandma looked up, her glasses partway down her nose. “What did you say, dear?”

Livvy smiled to herself. “It’s all right with me if you want to make my new skating outfit, Grandma.”

Her grandmother scratched her head and frowned. “Well, now, I figured you weren’t all too interested.”

Livvy cringed. Was this conversation headed in the wrong direction? She unfolded her legs and stretched a bit, getting up the courage to speak.

But Grandma beat her to it. “To tell you the truth, Olivia, Mrs. Newton talked me out of it,” she admitted.

“She did?” Livvy wondered when Grandma had seen her friend.

“We went shopping together this afternoon . . . for your flowers.” Grandma sighed a bit, her hands moving about. “Mrs. Newton advised me not to. She said it was hardly worth the effort sewing an elaborate skating costume.”

This didn’t sound like Grandma talking. She wondered what else Mrs. Newton had said.

“Oh, before I forget, I have some other letters tucked away for you,” Grandma said, getting up.

“What letters?”

“Come, let’s go to my room,” said Grandma.

Livvy followed her up the stairs. As they went, she remembered the lovely rose centerpiece. Grandma had gone out of her way to buy flowers and tall white candles for the lovely table.

With each step, she felt even more dismal. Grandma had meant well, just like Dad had said. She was truly kindhearted. Thoughtful, too. To think Livvy’d resisted such loving attention when she needed it most.

The letters Grandma was eager to share turned out to be more writings from Livvy’s mother. “They were written to me over the years,” Grandma explained. “Especially during the last weeks of your mother’s life.”

They had been kept—all of them—in a hand-painted oak box. Set beneath the mirror, the treasured box was centered on Grandma’s dresser.

Staring at the letters, Livvy felt a shiver. Yet it was comforting to know that Mom had taken time to express herself to her mother-in-law. Bless her heart, Grandma had saved all of them.

“Go on, take them over to the rocking chair,” Grandma urged. “Get comfortable.”

Livvy caressed the letters in her hands before reading. Then, one by one, she began to read.

Meanwhile, Grandma set about doing other things in the room. It was considerate of her.

Tears began to cloud Livvy’s sight, and she stopped reading for a moment.

“Are you all right, Olivia?” asked Grandma.

Livvy sighed. “You and Mom must’ve been very close.”

Grandma nodded from across the room. “She was the daughter I never had. I was mighty glad your father chose such a wonderful young woman to wed.”

The words warmed Livvy’s heart. She continued her journey, savoring every letter her mother had written.

But it was her mother’s final letter that made her sniffle again. She found herself going back and rereading.

Livvy held the letter close to her heart.
A good dose of mothering
. . . The annoying phrase had come straight from her mother’s heart!

She felt like crying. Sobbing, really—to let it all out. All these months, Grandma had been trying to live up to a dying mother’s last wish. She was doing what she’d promised by driving Livvy to the ice rink every morning in the wee hours. As for hovering, that was hardly the word for a grandmother who was giving of herself every minute of every day. Giving out good doses of mothering!

Livvy felt like an ungrateful toad.
How could I have been so blind?

Brushing the tears from her cheeks, she got up, still clutching the letter. “Oh, Grandma, I’m so sorry,” she said, crossing the room. She fell into her grandmother’s arms.

“There, there . . .” Grandma patted her back.

“I was such a jerk—you have no idea.” The bitterness poured out of her like a soda fizzing out of a shaken bottle. “I didn’t know what you’d promised Mom. I just didn’t know. . . .”

Grandma was silent, still holding her.

“Will you forgive me?” Livvy sobbed. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

“Oh, honey, there’s no need to worry so. Of course you’re forgiven. We all are because of Calvary.” Grandma found a tissue for her and waited for Livvy to dry her eyes. “Now . . . isn’t that what Easter’s all about?”

At that moment, Jenna’s Passion play became even more of a reality. “You’ll never guess what the Girls Only club members are planning,” she blurted.

“Must be something about Easter.” Grandma Hudson was sharp as a tack.

“That’s right.”

Grandma’s eyes twinkled happily. “Speaking of Easter, your father’s going to have a surprise for you in a few days.”

“Another one?” She was thinking of her mother’s wonderful letters. Especially the one written just before her death. “I don’t know if I can handle any more surprises.”

Grandma smiled. “This one might be the topping on the cake, so to speak.”

Livvy had no idea what to expect. But her curiosity was definitely piqued.

What’s up?
she wondered.

Follow the Dream

Chapter Fifteen

Three days later, Livvy and Grandma stood precisely where Dad positioned them. “Stand right there,” he said, hurrying back to his art table.

Livvy stared at the clock in the shape of an easel, hanging on the studio wall. Numerous large ferns and other greenery softened the corners of the long room. There were framed prints displayed on the wall, mostly drawn or painted by Dad.

Unlike Jenna’s attic bedroom, this room had wider and higher windows, letting the light in during the day. Tonight, Dad had drawn the shades, making the place more private.

“I’ve read and reread all of Mom’s letters to Grandma,” Livvy said as her Dad scurried about the room.

He stopped moving about and turned to face her. “Letters?”

Grandma was all smiles again. “Oh yes, and you may certainly read them, too.”

Livvy was glad to hear it. She would be eager to know what her dad thought of the deathbed wish. He would probably agree with it wholeheartedly—the part that explained why someone other than himself needed to support Livvy’s dream. It was a sweet, very dear thing her mother had done.

“I think, perhaps, the time has come,” Dad said. “I’d like to read them.”

Livvy sighed, relieved. His answer proved that Dad was coming out of his deepest grief. Finally he was emerging, slowly but surely, back into life.

“One more minute . . . and we’ll have the unveiling.” Rushing around the room, he cleared brushes off his art table. He gathered up small bottles of paint and clustered them together. Then he pushed his chair in and stepped back, surveying the room.

“It’s only us—Grandma and me,” said Livvy, smiling at Grandma.

“That’s right, son. We’re not here for a housekeeping inspection. We came for the surprise.”

Then Dad proceeded toward the draped easel. Carefully, he lifted the white sheet from the painting.

Livvy gasped in amazement. “Oh, it’s super beautiful, Daddy,” she whispered. She stared in awe at the face of her mother.

The painting, done in oils, was a portrayal of her youthful mother. Rendered with the aid of an engagement photo, the portrait was breathtakingly real.

Dad displayed the original picture, a newspaper clipping. “This was one of your mother’s favorite poses,” he explained. “Mine too.”

“It’s your best work ever,” Grandma said. Her voice sounded lumpy with tears.

Both Livvy and Grandma moved toward the painting, standing only a few feet from the easel. Livvy felt her father reach for her hand. Almost without thinking, she reached for Grandma’s, too.

“I painted it for you, Livvy,” her father was saying.

“It’s the most beautiful picture ever,” Livvy said softly.

Dad turned and cupped her chin in his free hand. “I pray it will help you remember who first believed in your skating talent.” He paused to kiss her forehead. “Never forget who got you started and who was always there for you at the rink. And all those competitions.”

Mom’s letters . . . and now this painting. How could she possibly forget? It was the coolest present a girl could ever wish for.

“Can we hang it in the living room?” she asked. “We can all enjoy it there . . . every day of our lives.”

“That’s entirely up to you,” Dad said.

“Thank you.” She clung to his hand.

They stood quietly in the haven of the studio, gazing in wonder. Livvy saw something of herself in her mother’s dear face. The realization made her feel confident, safe somehow.

“Anyone ready for supper?” Grandma asked, breaking the stillness.

“Yes, I’m hungry,” Dad said.

“How about you, Olivia Kay?” Grandma asked.

Olivia Kay. . .

The name stuck in her head. It had been a tender expression of love, coming from her mother’s pen. She thought of her mother’s cherished letters, Grandma’s promise and daily sacrifice. Everything that had happened this week.

Livvy glanced at her father’s mother. She turned and gazed at her own mother’s portrait. Sighing, she knew it was just fine—super, really—for Grandma Hudson to call her Olivia Kay. And as often as she liked. Livvy would never again wince when she said it. Never!

“It’s hard to believe so many good things can happen in one short week,” Livvy told her parrot before bedtime. “I mean, this thing with Grandma’s over . . . done . . . finished.”

“Grandma . . . Grandma,” Coco cawed back.

“I was so messed up about her. I even thought she had her eyes on Coach Sterling!” she confessed. “Jenna was right all along. I should’ve just relaxed about things.”

Coco twittered about the cage, ignoring her.

“I talked to Coach, too,” she confessed. “I never understood why he seemed unaware of Grandma at practice. Truth is, he thought she was essential to my success. And you know what? He was exactly right. Now . . . I don’t know what I’d do without her. Dad too.”

She went to the bookcase, picking up the figurine of the skater. “I was so dense, Coco,” she admitted. “So unbelievably stupid.”

But for a change, the bird was silent.

“You’re a big help,” she said sarcastically, replacing the statuette of the skater.

“Help . . . help!” cawed Coco.

“Call 9-1-1,” she teased.

He began making his siren sound, and she was immediately sorry she’d ever taught him such a trick. “Hush, now, you’ll have both Dad and Grandma in here.”

Thankfully, her parrot calmed down. She said, “Good night, birdie-boy,” and covered his cage. Usually that solved most noise problems.

Not tonight. Coco began to warble.

“Better keep it down,” she whispered, turning out the light.

“Down, down, down,” sang the bird.

“Not down . . .
up
.” She went and tapped on the birdcage. “Things are looking up, up, up. And I’m not kidding.”

Coco stopped yodeling, just like that!

Climbing into bed, Livvy wondered what part Coco might play in Jenna’s play. But then again, maybe birdie-boy best stay home. He was just too unpredictable. Besides, he was a boy. The play was being performed by only girls. Coco was definitely out of the running!