Christy Miller Collection, Vol 1 Read online

  Here’s What Readers Are Saying about the Christy Miller series …

  “I wish I could find the words to tell you what a blessing your books have been! I’ve learned a lot from Christy’s character, and Todd makes me want to wait for a hero! Please keep writing!”

  “Before I finished the first chapter of Summer Promise I was hooked. I had always called myself a Christian, but it wasn’t until your books that I really knew what it meant to lay down my life to Jesus Christ. You would not believe what a difference God has made in my life already. Thank you!”

  “If people ever tell me that being a Christian is boring, I tell them to go read your books! They helped me to start living for God and to look to my Bible for answers to everything.”

  “I read the Christy Miller books during a really stressful time, and they were like a calm in the storm. I have learned so much from them, too! When Doug told Christy that godliness is beautiful, it was an entirely new concept to me! I will not hesitate in saying these books changed my life.”

  “My best friend and I have been reading your books since we were twelve years old. We love them! They have brought us closer to the Lord, and we treasure this more than anything in the world.”

  “I had to read a book for school, and I chose Summer Promise. I never knew it would change my life. I’ve read the series at least six times. I now have a personal relationship with Christ. Thank you for being obedient to God.”

  “When I was in sixth grade, my mom gave me the first Christy Miller book. These books changed my life! Please, don’t stop writing until your hand falls off!”

  “I’m thirteen years old, and I love your books! All my friends are reading your books, too. We wish they were movies.”

  “I absolutely love your books. You are my favorite author. After I read the first one, I immediately became a Christian and turned my life over to God. I have struggled some, but your books helped me to stay on track. I thank you from the bottom of my heart for writing them.”

  “I wanted to thank you for all the books you have written. They have been my joy when things are hard. Every book has been amazing.”

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  THE CHRISTY MILLER COLLECTION, VOLUME 1

  published by Multnomah Books

  © 2006 by Robin’s Ink, LLC

  Compilation of:

  Summer Promise

  © 1988, 1998 by Robin’s Ink, LLC

  A Whisper and a Wish

  © 1989, 1998 by Robin’s Ink, LLC

  Yours Forever

  © 1990, 1998 by Robin’s Ink, LLC

  Scripture quotations are from:

  The Holy Bible, New International Version (NIV) © 1973, 1984 by International Bible Society, used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House

  Published in the United States by WaterBrook Multnomah, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House Inc., New York.

  MULTNOMAH and its mountain colophon are registered trademarks of Random House Inc.

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission.

  For information:

  MULTNOMAH BOOKS

  12265 ORACLE BOULEVARD, SUITE 200 • COLORADO SPRINGS, CO 80921

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Gunn, Robin Jones, 1955-

  The Christy Miller collection.

  v. cm.

  eISBN: 978-0-307-56304-0

  Summary: A collection of previously published books featuring Wisconsin farm girl Christy Miller as she learns about Christianity and life.

  Contents: Summer promise—A whisper and a wish—Yours forever.

  [1. Friendship—Fiction. 2. Christian life—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.G972Chr 2006

  [Fic]—dc22

  2005025580

  v3.1

  TEEN NOVELS BY ROBIN JONES GUNN

  THE CHRISTY MILLER SERIES

  Volume 1

  Book 1: Summer Promise

  Book 2: A Whisper and a Wish

  Book 3: Yours Forever

  Volume 2

  Book 4: Surprise Endings

  Book 5: Island Dreamer

  Book 6: A Heart Full of Hope

  Volume 3

  Book 7: True Friends

  Book 8: Starry Night

  Book 9: Seventeen Wishes

  Volume 4

  Book 10: A Time to Cherish

  Book 11: Sweet Dreams

  Book 12: A Promise Is Forever

  THE SIERRA JENSEN SERIES

  Volume 1

  Book 1: Only You, Sierra

  Book 2: In Your Dreams

  Book 3: Don’t You Wish

  Volume 2

  Book 4: Close Your Eyes

  Book 5: Without a Doubt

  Book 6: With This Ring

  Volume 3

  Book 7: Open Your Heart

  Book 8: Time Will Tell

  Book 9: Now Picture This

  Volume 4

  Book 10: Hold On Tight

  Book 11: Closer Than Ever

  Book 12: Take My Hand

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Other Books by This Author

  Book One: Summer Promise

  Dedication

  1 Off to a Bad Start

  2 The Makeover

  3 The Dream

  4 Surf and Seaweed

  5 The Invitation

  6 What’s a Girl Like Me…?

  7 A Time to Cry

  8 Questions and Answers

  9 The Boat or the Shore?

  10 Big Night Out

  11 Everything a Girl Could Ever Want

  12 Hopes and Heartaches

  13 The Magic Kingdom

  14 The Promise

  Book Two: A Whisper and a Wish

  Dedication

  1 Paula, My Friend

  2 The Land of If Only

  3 Dear Diary

  4 The Slumberless Party

  5 Nobody Told Me to Run

  6 Just Say No

  7 From Pity Party to Pizza Party

  8 Slow Down, Honey

  9 Fun, Fun, Fun

  10 Making Choices

  11 Midnight Run

  12 One Quiet Word

  Book Three: Yours Forever

  Dedication

  1 The Gift

  2 A Promise Kept

  3 December Dawn

  4 The Way to a Man’s Heart

  5 All-Time Friends

  6 Skating Along

  7 The Hurt Puppy

  8 The Quiet Woman

  9 Confiding in Mom

  10 Wrong Number

  11 The Mandolin Player

  12 A Time to Talk

  13 Forever

  About the Author

  To all the Christys in my life.

  A summer promise

  can last forever—if you give your whole heart.

  “I hate you! I hate you!” Christy Miller shouted at her reflection in the closet-door mirror. With a wild grrrr she wadded up her beach towel and heaved it at the mirror, watching it wobble and distort her lanky proportions.

  “Christy darling?” came a shrill voice from the hallway. “Are you back from the beach so soon?”

  “Yes, Aunt Marti.” Christy grabbed a brush and pretended to be untangling her long,
nutmeg-brown hair.

  Her aunt, a slim, stylish woman in her forties, opened the guest room door and looked around. “What was all the commotion? Who were you talking to?”

  “Nobody. Just myself,” Christy answered calmly, trying to suppress the volcano of fiery emotions boiling within her.

  “Why aren’t you out on the beach, dear? It’s a gorgeous day, and here you sit in your room, talking to yourself.” Aunt Marti dramatically pointed her acrylic fingernail toward the door. “You should be out there enjoying yourself!”

  Christy bit her quivering lip and didn’t answer.

  “This is California. Live a little! We didn’t fly you all the way from Wisconsin so you could spend the summer hiding in your room. Get out there and make some friends.”

  Suddenly the internal volcano erupted with great force, spewing words with the hot tears. “I tried, all right?” Christy choked. “I tried to get in with some of the beach kids, but they’re all a bunch of snobs! I can’t stand them! They’re rude and mean, and they laughed at me.” Christy covered her face with her hands; the tears oozed through her fingers.

  “I had no idea!” Her aunt switched tones and ushered Christy to the edge of the bed. “There, there. Tell me what’s bothering you, dear.”

  It took Christy a few minutes to compose herself before she said calmly, “I don’t fit in with the people here. They think I’m a nerd.”

  “Well, are you?” her aunt challenged.

  “Am I what?”

  “A nerd.”

  Christy didn’t answer. She stared across the room at her reflection in the mirror.

  “Well?” her aunt prodded.

  “Look at me, Aunt Martha!” Christy jumped up from the bed and stood in front of her. “I’m as white as a frosty cone—sort of shaped like one too! If that doesn’t make me a nerd in Newport Beach, I don’t know what does!”

  “Really, Christy. A frosty cone?”

  “Well, look at me.” Christy stretched out her arms to provide a full view of her 5-foot-5-inch, 110-pound frame. Her one-piece bathing suit covered her Olive Oyl torso like a bright green Ace bandage.

  “Tell me I don’t look like a frosty cone.”

  “You don’t look like a frosty cone.”

  “You’re just saying that.” Christy plopped on the floor and folded her arms across her stomach.

  “Oh, come now, Christy. You might be a bit of a late bloomer, but really, you’re a very sweet girl, and you’ve got a lot of potential.”

  “Yeah, right. Tell that to the surfers out there. The one who said, ‘Hey! It’s a walking green bean.’ ”

  Her aunt looked confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Christy let the tears drip and sniffed loudly. “Don’t you see?”

  “I see that you got upset over a little remark about a green bean. That doesn’t make sense at all.”

  “They meant me, Aunt Marti! No other girl on the beach had on a bathing suit like this ugly one! I’m the walking green bean!”

  Christy covered her face with her hands and cried until the tears ran down her arms. It was the kind of crying that comes from the pit of the stomach and brings a headache with it. The kind that makes a person snort and gasp, and no matter how idiotic you feel or how hard you try, you can’t stop.

  “Do calm yourself, will you, dear? It’s not as bad as all that. We can certainly buy you a new bathing suit easily enough. And just think. They called you a bean, not a frosty cone. See? They’re saying you’re thin. That’s almost a compliment.”

  Christy gasped in short spasms, trying to relax.

  Her aunt took the opportunity to make her point. “This is exactly the reason I told your mother I wanted you to spend the summer with us. You deserve more than your parents can give you right now, and goodness knows your mother and I didn’t have much when we were growing up.”

  Christy wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

  “Here. Use this, will you please?” Marti handed her a tissue. “As I was saying, my goal this summer is to treat you to some of the finer things in life and to teach you, Christina Juliet Miller, how to become your own person.”

  Christy blinked and tried to suppress a wild belch that bubbled up as a result of so much sobbing. Too late. The muffled urp leaked out.

  “You’re certainly not going to make this easy for me, are you, dear?”

  “I’m sorry.” Christy felt an uncontrollable urge to laugh. “Are you sure you’re ready to transform a belching green bean frosty cone into ‘her own person’? Could be kind of dangerous!” Christy broke into laughter.

  Aunt Marti shook her head and didn’t join in. “We’ll start tomorrow, Christina. I’ll call and make an appointment for you to have your colors done at nine, and then we’ll start shopping for your new wardrobe.”

  Christy instantly sobered. “I didn’t bring much money with me.”

  “Don’t be silly! This is my treat. A few outfits are certainly not going to break me. And one other thing: We really should have your hair cut. Something short and stylish. My hairdresser, Maurice, does marvelous work. By the time we’re done with you you’ll look and feel like a new person.”

  She said it with such finesse, Christy almost believed her. A new wardrobe? A new hairstyle? And what did her aunt mean by “having her colors done”?

  “Why don’t you shower and dress, dear? Your uncle doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going to take you to an early dinner and a movie tonight.” Aunt Marti swished out the door.

  Christy approached the mirror with a new perspective. Twisting her long, nutmeg-brown hair on top of her head, she posed this way and that way, trying to imagine how she would look with short hair. She couldn’t quite picture the change.

  She wished Paula were there. Paula, her best friend back home, always gave her advice when it came to major decisions like this. But then, what did Paula know? She was the one who helped her pick out the dumb green bean bathing suit!

  Christy scrunched up her nose and stuck her face close to the mirror, examining her skin for new blemishes. No new and ugly bumps today. But her cheeks were flushed, and her nose was bright red from crying. Even her eyes showed the effects of her crying spree; they were puffy and bloodshot.

  “I have such stupid eyes,” she muttered. “They’re not blue, and they’re not green. They’re just sort of nothing—like the rest of me.”

  “Knock, knock,” Uncle Bob called out from Christy’s open door.

  She immediately released her hair and turned away from the mirror, embarrassed that he had caught her in the midst of such scrutiny.

  “Looks like we’ve got a date tonight for the movies.” His merry eyes looked at her from beneath his baseball cap. He must have just come back from golfing, judging by the perspiration stains on his polo shirt. “Anything special you want to see?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. I’ll take a look in the paper to see what’s playing. Your aunt’s not much of a movie fan, so I hope you don’t mind that it’s just you and me.”

  “No. That’s fine.”

  “We’ll leave in about an hour, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “By the way,” he lifted his baseball cap and wiped his forehead, “I haven’t told you yet, but I’m glad you came to stay with us this summer.” Then he added, “You are my favorite niece, you know.”

  “I also happen to be your only niece!”

  “Minor detail, my child, minor detail,” he quipped, politely closing the door.

  With a sigh, Christy flopped onto the bed. She didn’t feel like showering, and it wouldn’t take her that long to change. With an hour to kill, she decided to write to Paula.

  Christy liked to write—especially when she had a lot on her mind. She would get everything out on paper, and then when she reread it, it would be like looking at her own thoughts in a mirror. Usually things came out clearer on paper than when she tried to say them.

  Finding the pad of stationery Paula had given
her when she left Wisconsin, Christy set to work. Paula insisted that she write the first letter to her on this stationery.

  Dear Paula,

  Hi! How’s everything back on the farm? The plane trip out here was fun for the first hour, but then it got boring. I didn’t see any movie stars at the airport, but I still have your notepad, so I can get some autographs in case I see anybody famous.

  Remember when you called last Thursday and I told you I couldn’t talk? It was because my parents were giving me a big lecture about my trip out here. They made me promise I wouldn’t do anything this summer I would regret later. Can you believe that?

  The funny part is, the only thing I regret is that I ever came here. I hate this place! There’s nothing to do, and everybody is so stuck up. It’s so boring. At night, all I do is sit around and watch TV.

  At least one good thing is going to happen. Tomorrow my aunt is going to take me shopping, and guess what? I’m probably going to get my hair cut! Can you believe it? I’m kind of scared, but I think she’s trying to give me a new image or something.

  Well, I’ve got to go. I’ll tell you how the big makeover turns out. Just think, you might not recognize me when I step off the plane next September. You’d better write to me.

  Love,

  Christy

  Christy awoke the next morning to the steady rhythm of the ocean waves outside her window. They sounded like a giant taking deep, relaxed breaths as each wave came in and oozed back out. She drew up the window shades and watched a flock of seagulls circling the sand, scavenging breakfast. Their white bodies flashed bright and clean against the pure blue of the sky.

  Opening her window to breathe in the fresh sea air, Christy found herself entranced by the ocean. Foaming waves broke on the shore, erasing the footprints of two early-morning joggers. Everything looked, smelled, and felt fresh and new.

  She quickly dressed and greeted Uncle Bob in the kitchen with a cheery “Good morning!” to which he replied, “And a good morning to you, Bright Eyes! Wait till you see what I’ve got cooking for breakfast.”

  “Mmm. Smells like waffles.”

  “And right you are!” Uncle Bob pulled the first steaming waffle from the waffle iron. “Butter and syrup are on the table, and this one’s for you. I made my own batter from scratch, and, if I must say so myself, it turned out to be a prize winner.”