Letters from the Heart (9 page)

“MAEVE,” Avery said, staring at her. “Earth to Maeve!”

“We were just asking,” Charlotte said patiently, “if you knew who you were going to interview for the Heritage Museum yet?”

“Uh—I don't know yet,” Maeve mumbled. She could see it now…her room for the Heritage Museum would be divided in half. Mom's side and Dad's side. And nothing in the whole display touching.

“Are you okay?” Katani was asking her. “You seem like you're a zillion miles away.”

“Oh, I was just thinking about the thing on Friday night,” Maeve fibbed. “I'm kind of nervous. You know what?…I think I'm going to head over to the library to work on my speech. Just in case I win,” she added quickly.

“During lunch?” Katani asked, still staring at her. Maeve was usually the one talking everybody else out of heading to the library.

But this, Maeve told herself, was different. She really did want to work on her speech. Who could tell? Maybe it would be the final thing that would convince her parents to stay together.

M
AEVE'S
A
CCEPTANCE
S
PEECH:
D
RAFT
1

First of all, I really want to thank my mom and dad. They've always shown me that love and communication are the two most important things in the world. I've always felt how much they love me…and my brother…and most of all, each other.

The way Maeve imagined it, the crowd would roar with applause…she'd accept the huge gold trophy that she was certain went along with the award. And her parents, sitting right in the front row, would hug each other, tears in their eyes, and swear then and there to stay together…forever.

A perfect Hollywood ending. Now all she had to do was win the award…and write the perfect speech.

And everything else would just fall into place.

K
now why this place is so great?” Avery asked her friends, turning from her favorite window of the Tower room—the one that looked east, toward Boston and her beloved Fenway Park. “Cause we always seem to get all our best ideas when we're up here!”

It was Tuesday afternoon, and the girls were studying up in the Tower. They all needed to work on interview questions for the Heritage Museum, and they'd convinced each other that they'd work a million times better if they were all together.

Charlotte knew exactly what Avery was talking about. The Tower room felt like another world. The girls had found it together almost by accident one night during a sleepover. From the outside, it looked like the cupola on the top of the Victorian house that the Ramseys were renting might be just decorative. But inside, the Tower room felt like a secret hideaway. It was partly the sloping floor, the wide floorboards, and the long high windows. The room was fairly small, but that just made it feel cozier. Whether they were
planning an adventure or just sleeping over together in the Tower, there was always something magical about this place!

This afternoon, homework was the rule of the day. Charlotte and Katani were sharing Charlotte's writing desk. Katani was sitting in the old lime-green swivel chair, which she kept spinning around to help her concentrate. Avery, Maeve, and Isabel were sprawled out on their stomachs on the floor, their books and notebooks spread all around them. And Marty was doing his best to help, jumping around from one girl to the next and panting with excitement.

“You're so lucky, Char. I love studying with Marty,” Avery said, snuggling closer to the furry little dog, who licked her face enthusiastically. Avery laughed, pulling back a little. “He's so much more fun than a skateboard!” she joked.

“It's Heritage Museum time, Avery,” Katani chided her.

“Listen to what I have so far,” Isabel said, clambering to her feet. “Ms. Rodriguez said that we should start by listing what we want to know, right? Well, here goes.”

Things I Wonder About My Family's History

• 1. What was it like a long time ago when we lived in Mexico?
  
• 2. Was it hard moving to America? Why did our family come here? When did we learn to speak English?
  
• 3. What were the biggest differences between Mexican and American life?
  
• 4. What was the hardest thing to get used to in America?
  
• 5. What member of my family am I most like?
  

“That's good,” Charlotte said approvingly. “I like all of it. And the last question is a great idea!” Her eyes sparkled. “Wouldn't it be amazing to find someone in your family who lived a long time ago who loves a lot of the same things that you do?”

Katani cleared her throat. “Okay, you guys. Listen to my questions so far.” She hopped up off the Lime Swivel to read her list.

What I Want to Know About My Family History or Who Else Likes to Sew, Anyway?

• 1. What were my great-grandparents like? I know all sorts of things about my grandmother, but I'm curious about her parents. What were they like? When did they come to Boston?
  
• 2. Were there any great leaders in my family? (I'm kind of hoping to find someone inspirational in my family's past!)
  
• 3. What kind of stuff did my family have to deal with, being African American a long time ago?
  
• 4. Are Grandma Ruby and I the only ones who like to sew and design things in my family?
  

“Awesome,” Avery said approvingly. She flicked her yo-yo expertly. “I'm still working on mine,” she admitted. “What about you, Maeve?”

Maeve frowned. “Still working,” she said quickly.

She was grateful when Charlotte took the spotlight off her by reading from her own list.

Charlotte's Questions (DRAFT)

• 1. I know that my mother was a teacher. Were there teachers on both sides of our family? And what
  about writing? Were there writers on my mother's side of the family, too?
  
• 2. Was anyone else in our family interested in studying the stars?
  
• 3. I also wonder where we came from. I love to travel, like my dad does, but I've always wanted a place to call home. I wonder if our family came from one special place, or lots of different places. I think learning about that will help me to understand my father's love of travel better.
  

Maeve listened to Charlotte's quiet voice as she read out loud from her list. Suddenly, she had an almost overwhelming desire to tell her friends what was going on with her parents. She knew that they'd want to know something this big. They'd probably kill her when they found out…IF they found out.

But it doesn't have to happen,
Maeve reminded herself, packing up her book bag. If everything goes the way I hope it does, maybe there's no reason to tell them. Maybe the whole thing will blow over and I won't have to say a word.

“Hey, I've gotta go,” Maeve said, slinging her bag over one shoulder. “I've got to help my parents do some stuff at home.”

“But we haven't even started designing your outfit for Friday night!” Katani wailed.

“I know! But it's five o'clock already.” Maeve grabbed her day planner, which had slid out of her book bag onto the floor.

“Maeve, you are so ORGANIZED these days,” Katani said admiringly. “Getting nominated for that award has totally changed you. Who knows? Maybe you're really a Virgo in disguise!”

“See you guys,” Maeve called as she hurried out the door, giving them all a quick wave.

If Katani only knew
, she was thinking. Maeve hadn't changed one bit because of being nominated for the award. It was life at home that was changing her. And it wasn't because she was suddenly organized. It was because she was doing everything in her power to keep her mom and dad together.

M
aeve opened one eye. Her alarm clock was buzzing away. Darn! Seven thirty! Had she managed to push the snooze button AGAIN? Why hadn't her mom come and woken her up, the way she always did when Maeve overslept?

Maeve jumped out of bed like a three-alarm fire was raging through the house. She grabbed her favorite blue jeans and a T-shirt from the pile on her chair. Yuck—there was a chocolate stain on the shirt. Everything she owned seemed to be dirty or in the wash. Where were the neatly laundered clothes her mother always left stacked just inside her door, waiting for Maeve to put them away?

This going-back-to-work business had its downside. It was nice that Maeve's mom was so excited about her new job. But still, a girl had her limits. After a scramble, she finally found something half decent to wear. Maeve grabbed
her laptop and her book bag, ignoring the plaintive looks on Romeo's and Juliet's furry little faces. “No time to play, guys. I am late, late, late,” Maeve sang out, racing down the hall. Her stomach was growling. Breakfast…she was definitely in need of one of her mom's famous power breakfasts. Maeve liked to moan and groan when her mother made Sam and her eat what she liked to call “real food” for breakfast, but today, the thought made Maeve smile. She was famished. Scrambled eggs and buttered toast would be just the thing to get her energy level up before school.

But when Maeve dashed into the kitchen, it was completely quiet. No sign of her mother anywhere, and instead of a delicious, piping hot breakfast, there was a note on the kitchen table.

“Maeve, be a love and get Sam some cereal before school. My boss asked me to come in early today, and Dad has a fund-raiser breakfast downtown. Lots of love, Mom.”

Maeve stared at the note. GREAT. It was hard work trying to be a model daughter. Especially a model daughter who was running thirty minutes behind.

The kitchen door cracked open. Sam looked like a wreck. Worse than usual, Maeve thought, noticing that half of his hair was sticking up on one side and he was still wearing his pajama top. Great. So no hot breakfast, and now she was supposed to magically get herself ready for school and get Sam ready for the bus. This was just GREAT. Maeve was getting sick of model daughter behavior. She wouldn't mind just being herself again, to tell the truth.

“Where's Mom?” Sam demanded, his lower lip wobbling.

Maeve was about to snap that she wanted to know the exact same thing, but something in her little brother's
expression made her stop short. “Oh—she had to go to work early today,” she said, trying to sound like she had it all under control. She banged open a few cupboards, looking around for Sam's favorite cup. What kind of eight-year-old, she thought to herself, is such a major brainiac that he can tell you every single battle that ever happened in the Civil War, but still likes to drink his juice out of a Star Wars cup?

“Here!” she said triumphantly, banging the cup on the table. She banged it too hard, though, and Sam jumped.

That was just enough to get Sam to cry. Little tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes, and he just stood there, looking completely tragic. It made Maeve's heart break.

“Don't worry,” she said, gulping. “It's fine, Sam. She just had to go in early today. I'm sure it won't usually be like this. I'll make you breakfast, okay? Just—just don't cry like that!”

“I hate this,” Sam shouted.

Maeve stared at him. Poor kid. This was hard for Maeve, but it was obviously really hard for Sam, too. She hadn't really thought that much about what he must be feeling.

Maeve took a step closer to him. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and—
well, here goes nothing,
she thought as put her arms around him. He didn't actually feel that gruesome—and he didn't even smell bad. Considering.

“It's going to be okay,” she whispered. “I promise.”

She held him for a little while, and he seemed to calm down. The strange thing was, Maeve felt a little better, too. She didn't even scream when he sniffled right onto her one clean T-shirt. She made him cinnamon toast and found him his green marshmallow cereal. Actually, the cinnamon toast was good—just as good as Mom's. Maeve ended up eating three pieces. By the time breakfast was done she was feeling much better.

“Come on,” she said to Sam when they were done eating. “I'll take you to the bus on my way to school.”

The house was empty as she closed the door behind them. No Mom to call out after them, wishing them a good day. No Mom urging Maeve to hurry, reminding her to brush her teeth after breakfast (she forgot!) or asking if she had her homework.

Her homework! Shoot! She'd left her completed math assignment on the dining room table, right where she and Matt had worked on it last night!

Maeve spun around. “Sam, we have to go back.”

“Why?” he demanded, wiping his nose on his sleeve. YUCK.

“I forgot something,” she told him, passing him a tissue.

She ran back into the apartment and grabbed her homework, stuffing it into her bag with a sudden feeling of…what was it? Pride? Satisfaction?

It felt good taking charge of this stuff on her own. Maeve hoped her mom wasn't going to make a habit of these early morning work hours. But at the same time, she was kind of proud of herself for being able to take care of Sam. Not to mention herself.

Charlotte's Journal

 

Maeve, Katani, and Isabel met at the front entrance of Abigail Adams after school on Wednesday.

“Don't even try to get away from us. This is an ambush. It's time for the
Kgirl
Award Ceremony Makeover!” Katani said gleefully, taking Maeve by the arm. “And don't you dare try to wriggle your way out of this! I don't want to hear a word about homework or the Heritage Museum or anything else!”

“You have an awards ceremony to get ready for,” Isabel added. The girls each grabbed one of Maeve's arms and pretended to march her up the street.

“I don't have any money, you guys. Honestly,” Maeve protested.

“Who said anything about money? It's time for Maeve's
home shopping network,” Katani sang out happily. “We're going straight to your closet to see what you've got. And then it's time to put the Designing Duo to work.”

Maeve thought fast. Her mom would be at home, and probably Sam, too. But her mom wouldn't say anything personal in front of her friends—she could count on that. Or at least she hoped that she could. And Katani and Isabel were right. She DID need something to wear on Friday.

“Okay,” she said, relenting. “But I don't have very long. I have—”

“Homework,” Isabel and Katani said in unison, winking at each other.

Maeve's cheeks flushed. Clearly her “model daughter” behavior had not gone unnoticed among her friends. Well, she wasn't going to give it up. She was convinced it was working. Her parents had both been so appreciative—her mother had commented several times on how organized Maeve had been this week, and her father thanked her like crazy for helping with dinner. To be honest, Maeve thought things were already going better at home. All four of them were eating dinner together, just like they used to—but now, without any arguing. Her parents were being extra nice to each other. The whole household seemed to be running really smoothly. Nobody was even talking about D-day, as Maeve had come to think of it. Sunday. Departure Day. Dad Moves Out. Maybe they'd already changed their minds!

So then why
, a little voice inside her said,
is Dad still packing boxes every afternoon?

But she pushed that thought away. The boxes were all being stored down in the cinema. She didn't think there was anything that would give Isabel or Katani reason to think her parents were up to something.

In fact, her mom was helping Sam with his homework when the girls got back to Maeve's apartment. Her mom couldn't have been nicer, Maeve thought. She offered them all chocolate chip cookies, and when they told her what they were doing, she even said Maeve could borrow anything she wanted from her closet.

Not,
Maeve thought,
that there's much in there I'd want.
But it was still awfully nice of her.

“Your mom seems different,” Katani said ten minutes later, once the door to Maeve's room was closed behind them. “Calmer, I guess. Don't you think?”

“She's gone back to work part-time,” Maeve said. THAT much she could tell her friends! “I think she likes it. She says she can get all of her organization mania out of her system at the office. So she's much more easygoing at home.”

Isabel was cooing over Maeve's guinea pigs. “Omigosh, they are SO sweet,” she said, leaning over the top of the cage. “What are their names, again? I keep forgetting.”

“That's because she changes them every week!” Katani laughed.

Maeve smiled. “They're still Romeo and Juliet. And they have been for a whole six days. I haven't figured out who they're going to be next week.”

Katani was already past the guinea pigs, diving into Maeve's closet. “Okay…” she mumbled. “Do you think you want something kind of subdued and elegant, or something that screams LOOK AT ME?”

“Well, you know me. It's gotta be the ‘look at me' look,” Maeve told her. “And it's gotta be pink!”

Isabel giggled. “You'd never know that,” she said ironically, looking around at Maeve's room, which was more pink than any place she'd ever seen.

Katani was digging furiously through a pile of tops on Maeve's chair. Maeve had to admit that her model daughter behavior hadn't exactly crept into her bedroom yet. She still thought that piling clothes on her chair made a lot more sense than hanging them in her closet. What was the point? You could never find anything that way!

“THIS,” Katani said at last, pulling out a silvery-pink satin top with a great V-neck. “Oh, Maeve, this is totally great. Now all we have to do is figure out some kind of skirt, and you're all set.”

For the next hour, Maeve forgot all about her family, having to be a perfect daughter, and figuring out what she wanted to know about her past. Instead, she felt like Cinderella. She didn't know how Katani did it, but somehow she pulled out one thing and then another thing…clothes Maeve might never have considered wearing together…and the next thing she knew, she looked like a model! Katani just made you feel good inside and out.

The complete outfit was amazing. Katani found a slim black skirt wedged in the back of Maeve's closet, and a pair of strappy black sandals. The effect with the silvery top was absolutely perfect.

“And if you'll let me, I'll do your hair,” Isabel said. “I've been making hair combs as presents lately. I take those metal hair combs from the drugstore and add beads and jewels to them. I can custom-design one to go with your top.” She pulled Maeve's hair over to one side. “See? You look like you belong in Hollywood.”

Maeve felt inspired to leap up on her bed, pretending it was a stage. “Okay, you guys. If I win, what do you think of this as an acceptance speech?

“First,” she said, clearing her throat, “I want to thank all
of my friends who made tonight possible. Katani Summers, Goddess of the Sewing Machine and Designer Extraordinaire. If it weren't for Katani, the blankets would have come out looking like starfish.”

“That's so true,” Isabel cried.

Maeve held up one hand. “Wait! I'm not done. And thanks to Isabel Martinez, who dove right into this project even though she was brand new to our school. And gave it her all. And loaned her artistic vision and made the blankets absolutely beautiful!”

Isabel and Katani clapped as Maeve went on to thank Charlotte and Avery—even though they weren't there to hear their virtues celebrated.

“You're a natural, Maeve,” Isabel said warmly. “I can just see you up there on stage now. I bet you're going to win,” she added.

Maeve blinked. The imaginary stage vanished, and she was back in her own bedroom, facing her smiling friends. Reality came flooding back.

Well, she sure hoped that she won. She HAD to win. She was counting on it…and not because she wanted a chance to be in the spotlight, either. It just seemed more important now, more important than anything.

 

Isabel had her materials laid out on the kitchen table. Hair combs, beads of all different sizes, and top-quality glue. She wanted to make Maeve an absolutely beautiful comb to wear in her hair on Friday. Isabel adored this kind of project. She loved choosing just the right mixture of stones and silver, to complement the top Maeve would be wearing. Yes, amethyst, it would be—amethyst,
which would look amazing with her hair.

She was concentrating so hard that she almost didn't hear her mother come in. Late afternoons lately had been the hardest time for her mother, who was still getting used to the medicine they were giving her to keep her from getting another flare-up from multiple sclerosis.

“That looks lovely,” her mother said, pulling up a chair. “Are you making that for anyone special?”

Isabel told her mother all about Maeve. “She really deserves this award, Mama. She worked so hard on those blankets, and she got so many others to help her with the project.” Isabel smiled, slipping a purple gem into place. “She's so…oh, I don't know the best way to describe her!” She shook her head. “She has such an amazing spirit. She really always includes other people…she's got such a big heart!”

Her mother smiled, watching Isabel work.

“And you know something, Mama,” Isabel said slowly, “I think something has really been bothering her lately and she hasn't wanted to burden anyone with it. Do you know what I mean?”

“Have you asked her?” her mother wondered. “Maybe she just needs to know that you want to hear.”

Isabel shook her head. She knew that in her mother's world, this was true. But sometimes Isabel felt like her mother didn't understand HER world. Things were so different for her than they had been for her mother, who grew up in a very protected household in suburban Michigan, filled with lots of extended family. And, all of her mother's friends knew Spanish and most of them were from Mexico, too. This wasn't true for Isabel. Her friends were from all over. They were all so different…from each other, and from Isabel.

“Well, you can let her know that you're there for her,” her mother said slowly. She almost seemed to be reading Isabel's mind. “That much is true around the world.”

Isabel put the comb carefully aside. She looked at her mother's lovely face, which was still so beautiful even though she looked tired from the medicine. “Mama, what was it like for you when you were my age?” she asked. She was thinking about her project for Ms. O'Reilly. This was such a rare chance, to have her mother up and eager to talk. She wanted to take advantage of it.

Her mother smiled. “Well, you know that I was one of six children. Not like you and Elena Maria. We were a big family and we had to share everything. And we lived in a small house. So it was always all of us, all together. And my cousins lived two doors away. We ate dinner together almost every night, either at their place or ours. Lourdes and I, we were the babies. We had to run to catch up with our older brothers!” Her mother laughed. “We had so many brothers and cousins, we didn't really need friends the way that you girls do today.” She shrugged. “It was different. Our worlds revolved around family, church, and school—in that order. When your grandfather started earning enough, Lourdes and I went to a convent school about three miles from our house. We wore uniforms…gray-and-blue-checked skirts, and navy tops. Every day.”

“And what about Papa? How did you meet Papa?” Isabel loved hearing this story, even though she knew it by heart.

“At a dance.” Her mother's eyes shone. Even after all these years, Isabel's parents still adored each other. “He wanted to ask my friend to dance first. Nina. I could've killed her! But she was dancing with someone else, and he asked
me…and the rest,” her mother said with a smile, “you know too well.”

Isabel looked down at the comb she was working on. She wondered what material object she could bring to school to represent her family and its history. It was such a weird thing that her mother had this illness now that made her muscles weak. Because the one word that Isabel would choose to describe her mother was “strong.” Her mother was quiet but had so much wisdom about life.
Like glue
, Isabel thought with a smile, turning the comb that she'd made over in her hands. Her mother was like the glue in her comb—she held them all together.

Maybe she was right about Maeve, Isabel thought. Maybe Maeve DID need to know that her friends were there for her. And whatever was on her mind—and Isabel knew that something was—they would be there. They were the Beacon Street Girls and Isabel was so happy to be one of them. They all stuck together…like glue!