SummerHill Secrets, Volume 1

by Beverly Lewis

  “But Rachel’s my friend!”

  She nodded. “The Zooks are good neighbors and fine people, but they don’t meddle in our affairs.” She sighed, casting a look at Dad that I interpreted to be a plea for unity. “My vote is we let them work things out according to their traditions.”

  Dad pulled out a chair and sat down, opening the Bible and leaning it against his empty plate. His eyebrows danced as he turned a deaf ear to Mom’s chatter. Dad, being a medical doctor, focused his life on helping people. That’s probably where I got my strong inclination to do the same.

  Anyway, out of nowhere, Elton Keel popped into my mind. Maybe it was because he was always silent. Dad, on the other hand, was only trying to be silent at the moment. I resolved with more determination than ever to help Elton fit into our school, and possibly our church.

  Lissa showed up for devotions at the same time Skip did. My brother appeared dressed and ready to walk out the door for church, but Lissa still wore her bathrobe. I could tell by his sideways glance that he thought Lissa was totally uncool coming that way to breakfast.

  Maybe he’d forgotten Lissa’s background. Her father had had an abusive streak and nearly every time he’d gotten drunk, Lissa and her mom had suffered beatings. The cycle of abuse had gone on most of her life, until last November when Mr. Vyner turned himself in and started getting help. Lissa told me once she couldn’t remember ever sitting down with her parents and sharing a family breakfast. Maybe that’s why she liked it here so much.

  As Dad read the morning devotional, I wished there was something I could do to get Skip to be polite to my friend. I thought of kicking him under the table, but that seemed a bit childish. Besides, I was sure Skip had only one thing on his mind at the moment: food!

  After a breakfast of pancakes and scrambled eggs, I hurried around the kitchen, assisting Mom by clearing the table and loading the dishwasher. Lissa excused herself and went upstairs to dress. Skip stuck his head in the refrigerator, searching for more food.

  Mom ignored the Bottomless Pit. “Thanks for your help, Merry,” she said as I finished up.

  “Any time.” I dried my hands on her strawberry towel. Mom had no idea why I was hurrying around. The truth was, if I finished up fast in the kitchen, Lissa and I would have time for our talk. But I was wrong.

  Halfway up the back stairs, I heard someone pounding at the kitchen door. I waited, listening, as Skip flew past me with two pieces of jellied bread. “You’re gonna be late, cat breath,” he said.

  “Go away,” I muttered, listening for some clues from the kitchen.

  Soon Mom called, “Merry, it’s Rachel.”

  My throat went dry. What on earth was Rachel doing here with church going on at her house?

  I sensed trouble. Big trouble.

  Chapter

  9

  Rachel was waiting for me in the kitchen wearing a Sunday dress of bright purple and a black apron.

  I greeted her. “Hi, Rachel. You okay?”

  She nodded, but I knew better. Rachel wasn’t her cheery self. When people grow up together, it’s easy to know things like that.

  Mom left the room to get ready, and probably to give us some privacy. When she was out of sight, Rachel spoke softly, “Can you come over this afternoon?”

  “What’s up?”

  She touched the strings on her Kapp—the white prayer bonnet—on her head. “There’s a culprit that needs to be caught,” she whispered.

  I didn’t have to be told whom she was referring to. Evidently, the Zooks wanted proof that Ben Fisher was the one causing trouble for them.

  “So your parents want me to help, is that it?” I asked, a little surprised.

  Rachel shook her head. “No, no. Mam and Dat don’t know a thing about this, and we must keep it that way. My brother and I want you to help us do some spying.” She took a deep breath. “To help our family.”

  “Levi and you?”

  She nodded. “I’ll tell you later what we’ve got planned. Jah?”

  I walked with her to the door. “Are you saying you’re taking things into your own hands?”

  Her eyes brightened. “You may call it what you wish, dear cousin.” Rachel liked to call me cousin, even though we were only distant ones. Our family trees branched back to the same Anabaptist ancestors. She gave me a long hug, then hurried out the door and down the steps.

  I waved as she passed the white gazebo in our backyard. “You can always count on me,” I called. Grinning, Rachel returned my wave.

  I closed the back door and made some tracks of my own for my room. When Dad wanted to walk out the door on Sundays, the family had better be ready. It was the one day of the week he showed little patience for stragglers.

  Briskly, I flipped on the blow dryer and brushed my hair, wondering about Lissa. Had it been my imagination, or was she avoiding me today?

  Quickly, I applied some makeup, leaning close to the mirror as I brushed on some blush and a smidgen of lipstick. Mom didn’t care if I wore makeup, as long as it was in good taste. Her approach made me feel sorry for some of the church girls my age who weren’t allowed to wear much of anything on their faces.

  I skipped the mascara. Instead, I spent the last few minutes fixing my hair, all the while a nagging thought threatening my peace of mind. Had Lissa changed her mind about having our personal talk? She’d gone downstairs to call her mom about something. Was it a stall tactic?

  I was snatching up my purse and digital camera and saying good-bye to my cats when Lissa burst into the room. “I can’t hold it in any longer, Merry.”

  I stared at her. “Hold what in?”

  “Do you like Jon Klein or not?”

  I looked at my bulletin board and Elton’s burnt drawing, avoiding her stare. “How many times do you have to ask?” I said.

  “Well, do you?”

  “He’s just a friend.” I didn’t even say a good friend. I didn’t want anyone to know how I really felt about the Alliteration Wizard. It wasn’t like Lissa was my best friend or anything. In fact, I hadn’t really had a best friend since Faithie died.

  Slowly, I turned around. Lissa sat on the edge of my bed, looking up at me like she had something earthshaking to say.

  I inched toward her. “What is it, Liss?”

  Quickly, she looked down, playing with her tiny gold bracelet. “I guess you could say…I kinda like Jon.”

  My heart stopped. “You mean you like Jon, uh, as in boyfriend?”

  She nodded, her blue eyes wistful. “I think I sorta do, Merry. I mean…oh, I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “Do what?” I could tell she was having a whammy of a time.

  “I really wanted to have this talk with you.”

  “So, what’s the point? We’re talking, aren’t we?”

  She sighed. “Well, that Spring Spree thing is next weekend, and I just thought…” She stopped.

  I wanted her to speed it up, spit it out.

  Her eyes shone. “I think I want to ask Jon to go with me next Saturday.” She stood up quickly, like she’d said something she was sorry for. “Oh, Merry, you’re not mad, are you?”

  My heart had stopped beating, but I managed to say, “Mad? Why should I be mad?”

  She came over and hugged me, blubbering something about being awfully grateful.

  I probably would’ve freaked out right in my own bedroom if Dad hadn’t called up the stairs just then. And I must admit I don’t even remember the ride to church. Frustration had taken on a life of its own. And that was putting it mildly.

  We strolled into Sunday school together, Lissa and I. But I felt like a walking prayer request. If someone had taken my up-to-the- minute spiritual temperature, I might’ve passed for a corpse, thanks to that private talk with Lissa. Worse yet, I noticed Jon sitting with our new pastor’s daughter, the beautiful Ashley Horton.

  Lissa leaned over. “When should I ask him?” she whispered.

  I toyed with telling her to go over right now, in front o
f the competition, but being a Christian friend was more important than any sarcastic comment I could’ve made. Besides, I had led Lissa to the Lord five months ago. She certainly didn’t need her “older” sister in Christ acting like a jerk.

  “Wait till after class,” I suggested as calmly as possible.

  Our teacher, Mrs. Simms, arrived dressed in a rose-colored challis shirtdress; her blond hair in its usual free-fall style hung down past her shoulders. I wasn’t surprised when she started in by giving us girls a pep talk. “Don’t be shy about inviting someone to the Spring Spree,” she said, smiling. “This is your moment, ladies. A terrific cause, and maybe the opportunity you’ve been waiting for.” She pushed her long hair behind one ear. “And, guys, make things easy for the girls, okay? Be gentlemen.”

  I happened to notice Jon’s face brighten at that remark. Only there was a problem: He was looking at Ashley!

  I glanced at Lissa. She’d noticed, too.

  Just then, Elton Keel came in sporting tan dress slacks and a brown short-sleeved shirt. He was wearing his red-and-blue plaid backpack. From where I sat, it looked like my Polaroid might’ve found a home inside.

  Mrs. Simms stopped everything to welcome him to class. He spied me and, with a childish wave, headed toward my row of chairs. Lissa and I slid over to make room for him, and although some kids might’ve felt uneasy sitting next to a special-ed guy with a firebug label, it didn’t bother me one bit. I knew the truth.

  Seeing him here made my day. Maybe I wasn’t such a spiritual zombie after all. I offered to share my Bible, even though it was next to impossible to keep my thoughts focused on Mrs. Simms and the Sunday school lesson. Besides replaying Lissa’s earlier conversation with me, I had to endure Jon sitting next to Ashley, probably the prettiest girl in church. Ashley was not only pretty, she was also the epitome of goodness—which smashed the preachers’-kids-arerotten theory to pieces. I could only hope that Ashley Horton had no brains. That, and that alone, might give me an edge with the Alliteration Wizard.

  In order to take my mind off this truly stressful situation, I tried to decide on my favorite month of the year. Sometimes a mental exercise can mean the difference between surviving and not.

  The best month of all was a toss-up between September, my birthday month, and October, the last days before winter’s power punch. I loved the sound of October leaves under my feet—like walking on a field of Rice Krispies.

  In the midst of my deciding, I observed my friend Lissa. She seemed intent on the lesson. Or was her concentration on Jon?

  Elton, on the other hand, seemed content just being here. He held his beloved pen in his left hand without clicking it. I wondered about that. Was it a gauge, a way to determine how attentive he really was?

  Silence is golden, my dad always said. But in Elton’s case, silence was much more than that. Silence spoke of childlike wonder and a secluded world inside his head. Elton’s world was a place where things like seeing a chalk drawing of Jesus dying on a cross brought shameless tears. A world where discovering an oak tree near a covered bridge and settling down for an afternoon of sketching brought peace.

  I was sure I was beginning to know Elton. Really know him. He was letting me in, allowing me to see inside. In Elton’s world, things like the Spring Spree and a preacher’s daughter with good looks didn’t matter. I smiled at him and turned my attention back to the lesson.

  Honestly, if Elton hadn’t come today, I’d probably have had a nervous breakdown.

  Chapter

  10

  After class, I waited while Lissa went to talk to Jon. I watched her approach him, realizing none of this would be happening if I had asked him weeks ago. Of course, it was anybody’s guess what his answer might’ve been. Maybe if I had asked him with all w’s…

  Elton remained seated next to me. I turned to face him. “Did you like the class?”

  He nodded.

  “I’m glad you came today.”

  Again, he nodded.

  “Are you staying for church?”

  He tapped on my Bible, then pointed to me.

  I laughed. “Sure, I’m staying, and you can borrow my Bible if you want to.”

  He shook his head no.

  I was stunned. I didn’t know Elton could do that. “Are you saying you don’t want to use my Bible?”

  He shook his head no emphatically.

  “What, then? What do you mean?” I was feeling totally inadequate here.

  He pointed to me again. Then, very precisely, he pointed to himself.

  “Oh, I get it,” I said, relieved. “You want to sit with me in church and share my Bible?”

  He nodded and forced a half smile.

  I could hardly contain my joy. Elton was changing, growing before my eyes! I explained to him that my parents thought being together as a family in church on Sunday mornings was somehow important to God. “So…if you don’t mind sitting with all of us, we’re set.”

  Elton nodded and when he did, I saw a hint of a smile in his eyes.

  Lissa came over and stood beside me. One glance told me Jon had turned her down.

  “Guess who beat me to it.” She pointed discreetly to the door.

  Elton stayed in the room while Lissa pushed me into the hall. “Ashley’s taking Jon to Spring Spree,” she moaned.

  My stomach rumbled. Conflict made me hungry. “Come with me,” I said.

  “Where are we going?” Lissa asked, following me as I rushed toward the classroom down the hall from ours. The smell of freshly brewed coffee and sweet doughnuts drew me inside. Adults stood around, doing whatever it was they did every Sunday with coffee in hand. My dad spotted me and waved between bites of pastry.

  “Here, eat this,” I said, handing Lissa a jelly-filled doughnut.

  Her eyes grew wide. “What’s your problem?” She sounded like she was going to cry.

  I shrugged, chewing quickly.

  “What should I do about Spring Spree?”

  I had to be careful what I said. After all, she had absolutely no idea how I felt about Jon. Most likely the thing with Ashley Horton was only temporary. Once Jon found out she was basically illiterate, he’d turn back to the Word Woman—me.

  Meanwhile, I needed a way to distract Lissa, to get her mind off Jon. “Have you thought of asking someone else?”

  “Like who?”

  I wiped my mouth. “Hey, it’s not the end of the world, is it? I mean, getting beat out by Ashley Horton?” I was trying to play it down. For her sake, and mine. “There are plenty more guys to pick from.”

  “Look, maybe you don’t know it, but I saw Ashley’s Sunday school lesson book,” Lissa said, lowering her voice.

  “So? What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “She thinks she’s pretty cool—I mean, she’s got her initials written all over everywhere. A.H. this, and A.H. that.”

  I smiled. “Very clever. AH-H-H never would’ve guessed.”

  Lissa and I burst out laughing. That’s when I realized we were the only ones left in the room.

  “Listen,” I said, touching Lissa’s elbow. “Sounds like the opening music has started. We’d better skedaddle.”

  I wiped the sticky off the corners of my mouth and hurried into the hall. Elton was waiting near the stairs. “Ready for church?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “C’mon, Lissa,” I said. “By the way, Elton’s sitting with us today.”

  She looked like she hadn’t heard me right, but I threatened her with a frown. She kept her mouth shut and followed me up the stairs, behind Elton.

  During the part of the service when people greet one another, I introduced Elton to my parents and my brother. Dad and Mom were ultra-polite as usual, but Skip didn’t exhibit the kind of enthusiasm I’d hoped for. In fact, he was downright rude. I shouldn’t have been surprised. What can you expect from an eighteen-year-old sibling who hates stray cats—stray anything! Right about now, I was sure Skip was thinking about Elton as my latest str
ay, er…project.

  When we settled into the pew again, I sent a serious scowl Skip’s way.

  He pretended not to notice. Then out of the corner of his mouth came this: “Don’t be such a child, Merry.”

  Fortunately for my obnoxious brother, church services were designed to discourage fighting, whether verbal or a solid punch to the nose. In my opinion, Skip truly deserved the latter.

  Anyway, God must’ve been looking out for me, because the minute our pastor announced his text, I recognized the verse—Matthew 18:3. And Skip, being the snooty high school senior he was, tried to act totally cool when the pastor’s words rang out from the pulpit. “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

  Not only was the verse fair reward for Skip’s snide remark, it spoke an even deeper, more powerful message to me. I thought of Elton’s childlike ways—often misunderstood by his peers. His simple approach to life was probably a very refreshing change to God. It must be much easier for the Lord to work in an uncomplicated life.

  Finding the chapter and verse in my Bible was a snap, but sharing God’s Word with Elton like this, holding my end of the Bible while he held his end, seemed almost symbolic. Rachel Zook would probably say it was providential—that God had led Elton to me so that I could lead him to Jesus. She was always talking about things like that. Simply put, it meant she believed that whatever happened to her and her family had been permitted by God. That’s why the Zooks wouldn’t press charges against Ben Fisher. Even if we caught him.

  Rachel and I had discussed it many times, but I still struggled with the whole thing of trusting God one hundred percent, amen. It was especially hard for me since I liked to take care of things myself.

  I listened to the pastor talk about the kind of faith a little child exhibits when he or she comes to God. But my mental image of Elton and the tears rolling down his cheeks last night spoke louder than any sermon.