Holly's Heart Collection One (58 page)

Stan laughed. “No kidding.”

Uncle Jack sneezed three times, then dug into his pants pocket, searching for his allergy pill. Finding it, he popped the pill into his mouth and swallowed without water.

Carrie stared at him, wide-eyed. “How’d you
do
that?”

Mark laughed out loud. “Ever hear of spit?”

“Eew, sick,” Carrie said.

“Yeah, sick,” Stephie echoed.

“That’s nothin’,” Phil spoke up. “Watch this.” He started to pull his eyelid up.

“Never mind, son,” Uncle Jack said, sparing us from Phil’s eyeball trick.

Long after they’d left for home, Mom knocked on my bedroom door. “Holly, can you model your dress for me now?”

I came to my door. “Uh, what about tomorrow? Is that okay with you?” I said, hoping she wouldn’t push the issue. Maybe she’d forget by then. Tomorrow she had appointments with the caterer and the organist.

“Sure, that’s fine, Holly-Heart. Sweet dreams.” She kissed my forehead.

“You too, Mom.” She headed down the hall to tuck Carrie in.
Phew—close call!

Grabbing my nightshirt and robe, I headed for the shower, where I could do some fast thinking about stalling tactics…just in case.

The caterer appointment took longer than Mom planned on Thursday, so she put off meeting with the organist till Friday. By then she’d completely forgotten about seeing my dress. It was a good thing, too. Carrie’s and Stephie’s dresses were ready to be picked up at Footloose and Fancy Things, on special order from Denver. Now, how to keep them hidden till the day of the wedding?

A whirlwind of days spun past as Thanksgiving approached. I decided to tell Jared that he was welcome to come to Mom’s wedding, but that I’d be focused on family that day. And the bride-to-be? Well, Mom was a giddy but happy woman. Uncle Jack, of course, was his comfortable, take-things-in-stride self.

Grandpa and Grandma Meredith arrived two days before the wedding. They didn’t seem to mind camping out in the family room, where the sectional pulled out to a queen-sized bed. Gifts were piled up everywhere, with more on the way, I was sure. Congratulatory cards and notes were arriving in the mail every day, most of them containing money. My darling mother was getting married to Uncle Jack, and everything seemed to be going along at a near-perfect pace.

Stephie and the boys moved their stuff into our house on the day before the wedding. Uncle Jack and his kids had been renting a large town home a few blocks away. But now they were coming to live with us.

The trouble with weddings is when your mom marries a man with four kids, reality whacks you on the head sooner or later. For me, the reality whack came when I lost my privacy.

Mom showed up in my room for a heart-to-heart chat. “Carrie and Stephie will have to share your room with you, dear,” she began, almost apologetically.

I felt betrayed. “Oh, Mom, no…please, no!”

“The boys will bunk in Carrie’s old room, just for a while.”

“What do you mean?”

She sat on the bed beside me. “I know you won’t like this, Holly, but we’re thinking of moving to a bigger house eventually. Maybe building a home.”

“What’s wrong with
this
house?” I sank back against a mountain of pillows and glared at the ceiling. Feelings of panic swept over me.

“We haven’t decided anything yet, dear.” Mom leaned back on the bed, close to me. “Please, don’t worry, Holly-Heart. Now’s a happy time. Okay?”

Carrie and Stephie came into my room without knocking, dumping a pile of clothes and stuffed animals on my window seat. “There, that’s a good place for now,” Carrie said.

Then Stephie turned to me, holding something behind her back. “I, uh, snooped in your drawer, Holly,” she said, looking terribly guilty. “And I found this.” She held out the polka-dot heart journal with the weekly record of STAN in it.

“You little sneak!”

“I…I’m sorry, Holly. When I found it, I thought it belonged to my brother. But then I gave it to him and—”

“You showed this to
Stan
?” I flew off the bed.

She stepped back, away from me. “He said it wasn’t his, that I should give it back to you.”

“Mom?” I pleaded. “Do something, please?”

Mom stood up slowly. “Girls, I’d like both of you to meet me in the kitchen.”

“Okay, Aunt Susan,” Stephie said. She left the room with Carrie, the pair of them giggling as they ran down the steps.

I turned to Mom. “There’s no way your sleeping arrangement will work. I refuse to tolerate Stephie’s snooping.” Tears began to fill my eyes, but angrily I brushed them away.

“Let’s not worry about who’s going to sleep where just now,”

Mom said. “The wedding comes first. We’ll work out the plans for the new house soon enough.” She left the room, a spring in her step.

Let’s not worry…

That was easy for
her
to say. My father had built this house. It was the only house I’d ever known. Everything I loved was here. I scuffed my feet against the rug as I headed for my window seat. Nearly sacred, this spot had served as my private corner of the world. Secret lists were written here. And stories and journal entries. Letters to pen pals and notes to friends…and zillions of prayers had been prayed here, too. Tons of them had already been answered.

I sat down in my favorite place, fighting the urge to shove Stephanie’s pile of clothes off onto the floor. But in the corner, crumpled up, was the dress she’d worn to her mother’s funeral, nine months before. I remembered Stephie’s swollen eyes, her tear-stained face. Remorse swept over me.
Now’s a lousy time to be angry with her,
I thought as I very carefully folded up Stephie’s clothes.

Thanksgiving Day came early at the soon-to-be Meredith and Patterson household. Mom drove to the church to meet with her matron of honor. The florist and caterer would be waiting there for Mom’s last-minute instructions.

I was responsible for getting Carrie ready. Stephie too. Uncle Jack dropped her off early. The girls couldn’t wait to put on their fancy dresses.

“Look,” Carrie said, all smiles when she first saw the junior bridesmaids’ dresses. “It’s the same colors as the Easter dress from last year, isn’t it? The one Mommy didn’t like.”

“Stand still,” I said, zipping her up. “We have to be ready soon. Uncle Jack’s picking us up in forty minutes.”

Stephie ran down the steps in her satin dress. “Here, kitty, kitty,” she called.

“Goofey’s down here,” Grandpa called up from the kitchen.

I was puzzled. “Why’s she looking for Goofey?” I asked Carrie.

“Because Uncle Jack said he could be in the wedding.” She ran downstairs after her cousin.

Our ugly cat in the wedding? Who ever heard of such a thing? Besides, Uncle Jack was allergic to Goofey.

I turned my attention back to my long French braid, smoothing the hair on top of my head with my freshly manicured fingers. That done, I posed for the mirror. “Absolutely smashing,” I said.

Downstairs, Grandma’s eyebrows arched dramatically when she saw us in our matching dresses. “Your mother’s taste in clothing seems to have changed recently,” Grandma said.

“Aw, Grandma. Don’t you like our dresses?” Carrie asked. Spinning around, she made the skirt swirl.

Just then Stephie came into the living room carrying Goofey. She held him tightly in spite of his fussing while Carrie snapped the leash on him.

“You’re not
really
taking this cat to Mom’s wedding, are you?”

I said.

“Don’t worry so much, Holly. It’ll be okay,” Carrie said.

“Yeah.” Stephie nodded. “Daddy says the whole family has to be in the wedding. Right, Carrie?”

“Just ask Uncle Jack if you don’t believe us,” Carrie said, showing off in front of Grandpa and Grandma.

With Goofey on a leash, we climbed into Uncle Jack’s van and sped off. There was still a slight chance that Mom’s wedding ceremony could turn out to be absolutely perfect. I thought of hiding our cat in one of the Sunday school storage cupboards.

At the church, Mom was hidden away upstairs in the bridal chamber, getting dressed in her ecru-colored dress. Carrie, Stephie, and I waited in the usher’s room just off the foyer area. Grandma stayed with us, too, humming as she waited.

How can I get Goofey out of here?
I wondered. I
had
to make sure the wedding went off without our cat spoiling everything.

Picking him up, I headed for the door. “Goofey’s got some dirt on his whiskers,” I told Grandma, who was frowning now.

“You’d better stay here,” she said. “Time’s getting short. Goofey looks fine to me.”

My heart sank as I stood there holding him. I stared at the gold, orange, and red floral ring around his neck, a mixture of wildflowers in rich fall hues. “Where’d he get this fancy collar, anyway?” I asked.

Stephie came over to pet him. “His collar matches the wedding flowers,” she said. “That’s where.”

Fall wildflowers?
Aargh! I stared at the three of us in our hotpink and silver beaded dresses. They hardly fit with the harvest bouquet theme. Mom would have a fit for sure.

“Three minutes and counting,” Stan said, poking his head into the room, handing over our wildflower nosegays. “Man, do
they
clash.” He frowned and shook his head as he closed the door.