SummerHill Secrets, Volume 1

by Beverly Lewis

  I felt hot—caged in—sitting here in the front seat of Mom’s expensive car. At the red light, I put my hand on the door handle and, in my mind, jumped out. I imagined running down Lime Street—all the way to the hospital.

  The weather was beastly hot and sultry, as though a thundershower was imminent. A sizzling Fourth.

  Even though Mom had the air-conditioner going full blast, I was perspiring to beat the band. The sheer thought of seeing Susie in a hospital bed frightened me.

  As it turned out, Abe Zook had to do some fast talking to let Mom and me in to see Susie at all. He called us cousins, which we were, only very distant ones. The nurse in charge eyed us suspiciously, probably because we didn’t look one bit Plain.

  Abe and Esther Zook had been taking turns in the intensive care unit off and on since last night. Abe looked washed out, exhausted. Esther too. Someone at the hospital had taken Levi home in the wee hours.

  Tears came to Esther’s eyes when she saw Grandfather Zook shuffling down the hall, his cane in hand. The three of them stood in a huddle, speaking in Pennsylvania Dutch quietly as they shared their grief, felt one another’s pain and, by their faces, the hopelessness of it all.

  That’s when Mom encouraged me to go inside to see Susie. I felt a lump in my throat. It choked me so that I could hardly breathe as I stood at the foot of her bed.

  Do not be afraid or discouraged….

  White sheets draped the bed, matching Susie’s pale face. Her braids had been wound around her head in the typical little-girl style, and her white net bonnet covered her small, round head.

  I studied her eyelids, hoping they might flutter open. “Oh, Susie,” I spoke to her, trying my best not to cry. “I know you can’t see me, but I’m here. I miss you.” I took a deep breath for courage. “I know you’d rather be anywhere else but here. And believe me, I wish you weren’t here, either.”

  I longed for some kind of signal. Something to let me know she could hear—that she was listening. But there was nothing at all. Not the slightest movement of her fingers or her eyelids.

  Nothing.

  Slowly, I walked around to the side of her bed. I touched her left hand gently. The hand that had held the smashed firefly last night.

  “I’m going out tonight…to catch fireflies. Hurry and get well so you can come with me,” I said with absolutely no hope that she would ever come to another firefly ball.

  I stared at the monitors everywhere and at the curtains, pulled shut. This place was like a morgue. Except for one thing. There was a live body in this room. A living, breathing person!

  Dad had always said, “Where there’s life, there’s hope,” and I clung to that. Susie might’ve died last night, but she was alive, her heart beating. Breathing on her own!

  So much to be thankful for.

  I thought of the firefly poem Grandfather Zook had written. “‘Night of the Fireflies,’” I said out loud. “Come one, come all, to the firefly ball. Dance with ’em, laugh with ’em. Run straight and tall.”

  I looked at Susie—really looked at her. She was somewhere inside that seemingly lifeless body; I knew it. Her light was still shining. Same as the firefly she’d accidentally smashed. Shining steadily…telling us not to give up. To keep believing that she would run and laugh again. That she would chase fireflies again.

  But no one else, not her family and not the nurses, seemed quite as hopeful. Dad came up on one of his breaks. He checked her chart and reaffirmed the grim outlook. Susie was in a deep coma.

  “Can she hear anything?” I asked.

  “Sometimes comatose patients have keen hearing; they’re aware of their surroundings. My guess is that Susie can probably hear the voices of those she loves.”

  “My voice, too?”

  Dad kissed my cheek. “Perhaps.”

  I stayed all day, rotating turns with Susie’s mother, father, and grandfather. I used the Gideon Bible from the drawer in Susie’s hospital room to read passages from the Psalms out loud.

  Grandfather Zook had his firefly poem with him, and while he waited for his visits, he worked on creating the last verse. When the words didn’t fit just right, we would talk, sharing special memories of Susie.

  We weren’t being morbid or anything. Actually, our time together was very sweet…and touching. Fond memories of Susie kept us going. Kept us hoping.

  Chapter

  13

  A Fourth of July without fireworks. No hot dogs or corn on the cob. No root beer floats.

  I was content to sit at Susie’s bedside a few minutes at a time, reading Psalms to her and praying out loud—making sure the light inside her kept shining.

  “Here’s a good one—Psalm ninety-one,” I said, settling down for another Bible-reading session. “It’s one of my favorites. ‘He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.’”

  I paused, thinking about the sheltering willows in our secret place—the willow grove. “Remember how bright our jars of fireflies were in the willow trees? Well, I guess you could say the willows are like the shelter in this psalm. Can you picture yourself being sheltered there, Susie—safe in Jesus? He is the Almighty.”

  I looked at her as I spoke, hoping, praying for a response. Anything.

  Undaunted, I picked up the Bible again and continued to read. “‘I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”’”

  Then, as I did after every short session, I repeated her grandfather’s poem, “Night of the Fireflies.”

  “Come one, come all, to the firefly ball. Dance with ’em, laugh with ’em. Run straight and tall.”

  Mom left the hospital around noon, taking Abe Zook home en route to our house. He’d gone to catch forty winks, planning to return to the hospital with the rest of the Zook children after the last milking. They came into Lancaster together, piled up in the usual way in their horse and buggy.

  Levi, Rachel, Nancy, Ella Mae, and Aaron all gathered around their sister. They were allowed to stay as long as they were quiet.

  Curly John, the oldest Zook boy, and Sarah, his young bride, also came to visit. Sarah was starting to look as though she was expecting a baby. The new little Zook was scheduled to arrive in mid-November.

  When the young couple came out of Susie’s room, they had tears in their eyes but no other display of emotion. Quietly, they stood talking with Abe and Esther in the hall, and then there was a long period of silence.

  It was difficult for everyone to see the young girl, once so lively and vibrant, in this languishing, dismal state—hanging somewhere between life and death.

  My dad had agreed to take me home when he got off work later. I felt truly blessed to have spent this day—off and on, of course—with my friend. Our time together had been nothing like our jaunts around the farm chasing fireflies, but it had been special. Special beyond words.

  The scriptures and the prayers had touched the very heart of me. I could only hope they had reached Susie, too.

  After a while, Levi talked his parents and grandfather into going home for some rest. “Try and get a good night’s sleep,” he urged them. Then, to put their minds at ease, “The doctor will call Merry’s house if Susie takes a turn for the worse.”

  “Or if there’s good news,” I added cheerfully.

  Esther and Abe finally agreed and took Grandfather and their brood home for the night—in a mighty cramped buggy.

  Much later, when the only sounds to be heard in Susie’s room were the distant pops and explosions of shooting fireworks, Levi and I had another private talk.

  “I’ve read nearly ten psalms to her today.” I showed Levi the Bible I’d found.

  He cast a tender look at his sister. “Susie loves the Bible, jah,” he said, returning his gaze to me. “Do ya think God’s Word will heal her?”

  “One-hundred-percent-amen sure!” I said. “In fact, there’s a verse in the Psalms about it.”

  “Ach, let’s find it.” Levi went
to the drawer and pulled out the black Gideon Bible. “Which psalm do ya think it is?”

  “Check in the back—there’s a small concordance.”

  I peeked over his shoulder as he searched under the word healed. And, sure enough, there it was.

  “Psalm one hundred seven, verse twenty,” I said.

  Levi’s face lit up when he found it. “Here’s the whole verse. ‘He sent forth his word and healed them; he rescued them from the grave.’ ”

  Levi looked at me, his face shining. “Oh, Merry, it’s a wonderfulgut verse! We gotta keep on reading God’s Word to her!”

  It was a startling remark, especially because it seemed to indicate that he thought Susie could hear us.

  “My dad says unconscious people are aware of loved ones surrounding them—that what we say should be positive and uplifting,” I told him.

  I went to sit in the soft chair near the window across the room. Levi kept standing, though, leaning against the windowsill—the Bible still open in his hands. He began to read several more verses from the psalm.

  From my chair, I surveyed Susie’s tiny form covered with hospitalwhite sheets and a lightweight blanket. When Levi stopped reading, I asked, “Do you think she knows we’re here together, you and I?”

  “Betcha she does.” He smiled, closing the Bible. “Ya know, Susie’s wanted you for a sister of sorts ever since I can remember.”

  I grinned, enjoying the idea of being someone’s big sister. Actually, Susie and I had been like sisters for the past several days.

  “I’m going to come see her every day till she wakes up,” I announced. “And I don’t care how long it takes!”

  Levi was silent, and by the look on his face, troubled.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Don’t you believe she’ll—”

  “Merry, please. This has nothin’ to do with believin’. Sometimes God’s plans are different than ours. Sometimes…” His voice trailed off.

  “Well, I won’t give up hope.”

  “But ya hafta prepare yourself for the other possibility, ya know.”

  “But I thought—”

  “I believe God heals the sick, jah—but you know as well as I do that sometimes the healing comes by lettin’ a person die.”

  I squinted my eyes nearly shut. “What are you saying?”

  “It’s just that…” He paused, having trouble getting the words out. “Susie…uh, might not make it.”

  “Better not be saying that in this room!” I insisted. “If Susie’s listening, which I’m sure she is, you oughta be saying good, truthful, powerful things. Things that’ll stimulate her mind. Things to make her want to wake up.”

  Levi frowned. “Don’t hide your head in the sand, Merry. I would be so sorry for ya to be disappointed.”

  “I won’t be, you’ll see!” And I leaped out of my chair and left the room without saying good-bye to him.

  Or to Susie.

  On the ride home, Levi asked my dad many questions about comatose states. He seemed hungry to know as much about Susie’s condition as possible. Still, I was upset at the abrupt change in his attitude. Did he believe the Psalm or not?

  Dad was kind enough to answer Levi’s medical questions, even though I could see he was fairly wiped out from having been up all last night. On top of that, he’d worked the ER all day.

  Finally, when we made the turn onto SummerHill, all of us grew quiet. I turned my attention to the scenery outside.

  Susie’s lightning bugs were out in droves—almost as thick as I’d seen them last night. The night of the accident…the night of the fireflies.

  I thought of Grandfather Zook’s poem—the references to dusk wearing red satin and honeysuckle. My mind drifted back. How uncanny that there had been a fire-red sunset like a red satin gown. And the night air had been heavily sprinkled with the sweet smell of honeysuckle. Susie had even stopped to pick several blossoms!

  I closed my eyes, refusing to look at the scene of the accident as we came near it. When we passed it, I caught Levi’s sad eyes staring at me. He wasn’t just sad—Levi was ticked. We’d had our first fight, and over a life-and-death issue. Over Susie’s life, and whether she would come out of the coma, or die and go on to heaven.

  As I looked at Levi’s grim face, I couldn’t tell whether the pain he was feeling was stronger for Susie, or for me.

  Chapter

  14

  I told Dad I wanted to sit outside for a while after we arrived home. “I need some time alone.”

  “You sure, kiddo?” he asked.

  I nodded, trying to ignore the sweet fragrance around me. “I’m sure.”

  “Well, then, take your time.” He left me sitting outside on the gazebo steps.

  As I looked up into the evening sky, I wondered where Susie really was. Oh, I knew where her body was. But she was unconscious, so where was her mind? And what about her soul—the spirit of her?

  Susie’s most essential natural reflexes were working without artificial means—her heart beating, her lungs breathing. It was her mind that was shut off. And the more I thought about it, the more determined I was to find a way to awaken her. To bring her back—all of her!

  I decided not to catch fireflies after all. There was thunder in the distance, and it was getting late. Besides that, I was tired from the events of the past two days.

  I called for my cats, wondering if they were hiding in their usual spot under the gazebo steps. “Lily White? Are you under there?”

  Abednego, the cat who was usually missing, showed up first. He padded up to me, his persistent meowing getting to be a bit much.

  “Okay, okay. I know you’re glad to see me, little boy.” Abednego wasn’t so little anymore. In fact, he was downright fat. Probably due to the rich, raw cow’s milk from Zooks’ dairy. “I should put you on a diet!”

  He didn’t appreciate that comment and arched his back in disgust. My tone of voice had probably offended him. He was terribly sensitive and very smart. In fact, all four of my cats were super intelligent. They just didn’t understand English.

  Minutes later, I was joined by the rest of the feline delegation of the Hanson household. Lily White, the youngest, led the pack. She was petite and wore a regal coat of white. Shadrach and Meshach were golden-haired brothers, younger siblings to Abednego. I’d noticed recently that Lily and Abednego had been viciously vying for my attention.

  Lily was the new cat on the block, still attempting to establish her worth, while the three Hebrew felines had been around for years.

  A gust of wind took me by surprise. Quickly, I gestured to my cat quartet, informing them of the impending storm. “Let’s get inside before it pours,” I said, gathering Lily White in my arms. Abednego took notice and ran under the gazebo, having a temper tantrum.

  Thunder rolled overhead.

  “Aw, c’mon, little boy,” I called to him. “You don’t want to get caught in a thunderstorm. Please come.”

  I squatted down, peering under the gazebo, still holding Lily White.

  Abednego was stubborn and going to play his game. I was pretty sure if I put Lily down and then coaxed him, he’d come out in a flash. But I was too tired emotionally and physically to plead with the spoiled old feline, so I scrambled into the house as lightning lit up the sky.

  “Merry,” Mom said, looking concerned as she glanced out the back-door window. “I was just coming to get you. There’s a severe thunderstorm warning out for Lancaster County. We just heard it on the radio.”

  I put Lily White down. “Abednego’s still out there!”

  Skip looked up from his plate of pie and ice cream. “What’s his problem?”

  “Probably jealous.” I turned around, staring out the window with Mom, upset at the way Abednego had ignored me. Didn’t he know by now that I wanted the best for him? That I only wanted him to be safe?

  I went to the fridge in search of sandwich fixings.

  “Jealousy is as cruel as the grave,” Mom stated.

 
Her words stung my heart. “What?” I said, even though I’d heard her just fine.

  “Abednego’s competing for all he’s worth,” she said. “Lily White makes him mad because she moved in on his territory.”

  I knew all that. But it was the “cruel as the grave” part that I couldn’t get out of my mind.

  Mom insisted on warming up something for Dad and me to eat, even though I was content with making a sandwich. “You’ve had a long, stressful day,” she said, coming over to the counter. “You have to keep up your strength.”

  Dad sighed, running his hand over his prickly chin. “I could use a good hot shower and shave.”

  It was obvious Dad had already filled Mom in on Susie’s condition, yet neither of them offered a word about her recovery. That bothered me. Was I the only one holding out hope?

  After Dad and I had eaten, Mom said she and Skip would clean up the kitchen. I was relieved. There was no way I’d survive even a half hour of chitchat with them. Everyday living seemed so mundane and unimportant when faced with eternal questions about life and death.

  The next day I got up early and rode into town with Dad. I was going to spend the whole day with Susie.

  Mom had made an enormous sack lunch for me, and when the nurse saw me brown-bagging it, she let me use their staff refrigerator. I was all set.

  Rachel and her mother arrived soon after I did, and we traded off visits the way we had yesterday. I read all of Psalm one hundred seven to Susie without interruption from nurses or other visitors, emphasizing the part about being rescued from the grave. Then, as my five minutes drew to a close, I recited “Night of the Fireflies,” ending again with the refrain.

  “Come one, come all, to the firefly ball. Dance with ’em, laugh with ’em. Run straight and tall.”

  When the doctor came in for morning rounds, he solemnly indicated to Esther that Susie seemed to be drifting deeper into the coma. Truly horrible news!

  However, because of that fact, Esther, Rachel, and I were allowed to stay in the room for longer periods of time.