“I hate to be a bearer of bad tidings, but I think you should know something.”
“Jah?”
“It’s about your Amish boyfriend.” I told her everything—about Matthew and his new buggy and his new girl.
Rachel took the news mighty hard at first. Tears sprang up in her eyes. She turned and tried to conceal them, but I saw them just the same.
She wiped her face on the back of her sleeve, and we talked some more. After rethinking the situation with Matthew and herself out loud, she was more positive.
“Maybe he was just tryin’ to get my attention. And that other girl—wish I knew who she was.”
We started to laugh about it. “Jealousy is a cruel taskmaster,” I said, speaking for myself.
She nodded in agreement. “Guess I oughta be thankin’ ya, Merry. I’m glad ya told me.” Her face was serious and drawn now. “I best be givin’ back these jeans of yours,” she was quick to say.
I didn’t go inside with her when she invited me but said my good-byes out by the milk house. “Hope it’s not too late for you and Matthew,” I called back.
She shook her head. “Don’tcha worry none.”
Running toward the main road, I felt that I’d done the right thing for Rachel—at last! Of course, telling her about Matthew wasn’t going to benefit only her. Matthew, if he hadn’t truly found someone new, might be real glad to take his old girlfriend back. That is, if she decided to forget about her “running around” nonsense and embrace the Old Ways once again. Surely he would if Matthew loved Rachel as much as she thought he did.
After supper, Levi called. “I got your letter, Merry.”
I was startled for a moment. “Uh…it’s nice to hear your voice, Levi, but I didn’t expect you to call me.” Now I felt funny having written for his advice.
“It’s not a problem. Honest, it isn’t.”
His “ain’t” is missing, I thought. The sign of a truly educated man.
“How’s everything at school?” I asked.
“I’m always busy with studies, but the Lord is good. I’m learning to trust Him daily.”
I couldn’t get over how different he sounded, even since I’d last seen him. “I’m glad you’re happy there.” I really didn’t know what else to say.
“About your letter, Merry—I’d be lying to you if I didn’t say that I suspect the person in your letter is my sister Rachel.”
Surprised at his words, I just listened.
“Rachel’s impulsive now, that’s all…doesn’t quite know where she’s headed.”
“You’re probably right, but she’d never forgive me if she knew I told you,” I admitted.
He breathed softly into the phone. Then, “My best advice to you is to pray for her.”
“Does she ever read the Bible?” I asked, knowing that most Amish read only the Old Testament.
“Now that I’m not home, I couldn’t say.”
I went on to tell him about her visit to my school. And her interest in modern clothes. “I wish she’d settle down a bit,” I said. “I can’t get used to this Rachel.”
He laughed softly. “And to think that you had to go through all this—on some level—with me last summer, Merry.”
“Oh, it wasn’t so bad.”
“My searching brought me to the Lord Jesus. I’m ever so thankful.” Then he asked about my dad. “Is he feeling better?”
“Dad’s doing fine now, but he’s been talking about an early retirement. Actually, I don’t know what he’s thinking.”
“Really? Maybe he’ll have time to travel more. He’s always wanted to go on at least two mission trips a year,” he said.
I grinned. “He told you about that?”
“Missionary work is a topic dear to both your dad’s and my heart,” he remarked.
“Just tonight at the table, Dad suggested that I come with him and Mom on a trip to Costa Rica over spring break.”
“Do it!” Levi exclaimed. “You won’t be sorry.”
“Dad thinks I’d be a good photojournalist for the church.”
“I hadn’t thought of that, but he’s right.” His voice grew softer. “Maybe that’s where your ‘call’ lies, Merry.”
I’d never thought of my “call” from the Lord coming in the form of something I loved to do as a hobby. But now that Levi mentioned it, it made good sense.
“I’ll think about it,” I told him.
“Good, then. We’ll talk soon, I hope.”
“Thanks for calling, Levi.”
“I miss you, Merry.”
My heart nearly stopped. And I knew I missed him, too. More than ever.
“Oh, about talking in alliterated sentences,” he added. “I’ve tried a few myself. I’ll e-mail them to you if you give me your address.”
Quickly, I did. “I’ll look forward to that.”
We said good-bye and hung up.
As promised, I received Levi’s e-mail.
Hi, Merry,
Here’s my alliteration for the day: Hope for happiness, holiness, humility, and honor—no halfhearted, ho-hum hypocrisy.
—Levi
I had to call Chelsea. “You’ll never guess who’s the new Alliteration Wizard!”
“I give up.”
“No…you have to guess,” I insisted.
“C’mon, Merry, I don’t have time for games.”
“Oh, so you’re not playing, either?” I taunted.
“Who else isn’t?” she asked.
“Well, not so long ago Jon wasn’t. Or at least he said he wasn’t.”
“That’s strange.”
“What?”
“He just called here and was babbling baloney,” she said.
I laughed. “So the former Wizard’s making a comeback!”
“And maybe you’ve got him back?” she asked.
“Oh,” I sighed. “I’m not so sure about Jon anymore.” I felt the pain anew.
“Oh really?” She was probing for more details, but I had to put her off. Besides, Levi was on my mind. I was dying to tell her how excited I was about his call. “Levi Zook’s an incredible alliterater.”
“How do you know?”
I told her about the e-mail—the many, many h’s in a row. “He’s truly amazing.”
“With words or just in general?” she asked, laughing.
I wasn’t ready to divulge any more secrets. Not yet. But I did tell her about my timely encounter with Matthew Yoder on SummerHill Lane. “Rachel’s through with running around,” I said. “I’m one-hundred-percent-amen sure!”
“If you say so,” she replied.
We giggled briefly and then hung up.
Mom wanted to know what was so funny. “Glad you’re having such a good week,” she commented.
“Well, none of my cats got run over,” I said, heading for the stairs and a mountain of homework.
“Honey, you’re not making much sense,” she pointed out.
“You’re right.” I rushed to my room before she could call any more comments up to me.
I plopped onto my bed, gathered my furry foursome around me, and thought of Joseph Lapp. “Well, I guess we have him to thank for the total chaos this week,” I told them. “I think Rachel and her brother must share some of his genes.”
Abednego eyeballed me as if to say, Look who’s talking.
“Hey, I’ve been on both sides of the fence—the inside and the outside—and you know what?”
He meowed politely.
“It’s not so much where you are; it’s who you know. And I’m not talking riddles here, boys.” I bowed my head. It was time for a personal chat with my heavenly Father—about Rachel and her future, about Levi and his, and about my own uncertainties.
Chapter
22
Weeks later Dad decided, after all was said and done, that he would take early retirement from the hospital. And he and Mom are planning an overseas trip without me, since I can’t miss that much school. Amazingly, Miss Spindler—Old Hawk
Eyes, the neighbor lady behind us—has agreed to let me stay with her.
Maybe now I’ll have a chance to do some sleuthing over there. I’ve been dying to know how she keeps such a close eye on everybody in SummerHill.
As for my baby-sitting job, it’s earning me some spending money. The best part is getting to see sweet little Mary every weekend.
Levi’s coming home for spring break, and it’s for sure! I found out yesterday from Rachel, who, by the way, is behaving like her old self once again. In fact, I can hardly remember what she looked like in a short skirt and lipstick.
She’s wearing her veiled covering consistently—reverently—and seems more content with being Plain. “I’m where I belonged all along,” she told me recently.
Matthew Yoder forgave her in an instant. Last I heard, they’ll start taking the required baptismal classes together come late July. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s another wedding coming up in a year or so.
Now, if I can just get my favorite jeans back from her sometime. Souvenirs of wayward days probably aren’t the best thing to keep around. I’ve told Rachel that, but she only smiles and says, “Looking at them and Joseph Lapp’s secret picture every so often are what help keep me Amish.”
I don’t ask “What?” in response. Instead I listen sincerely with my heart and pray…and try to understand. That’s the best a friend can do, with or without the moon.
For
Julie Witner,
who loves cats as much as
Merry Hanson.
“For the eyes of the Lord run to and fro throughout the whole earth…”
—2 CHRONICLES 16:9 KJV
Chapter
1
I’ll never forget the day my sweet and sassy Abednego disappeared. The afternoon was unseasonably warm and sultry. Too warm for the middle of April.
Perched on the garden bench under our backyard maple, I played with the lens cap on my digital camera. I’d loaded it with freshly charged batteries for today’s special event—a retirement party for my dad. Actually, the party was an open house, a come-and-go sort of thing. I wouldn’t have admitted it to my parents, but I was bored out of my mind.
My cat quartet—Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego, and Lily White—gathered around my feet. I figured they were horribly hot and uncomfortable inside their heavy fur coats. Fidgety, they rolled around in the cool grass, pawing at one another.
I leaned back and gazed up at the pale blue sky. A series of ballooning white clouds sped across the heavens. Mom liked to call them thunderheads. I’d nicknamed them thunderbumpers.
“Looks like rain,” I told my feline friends. “Those clouds up there are gonna crash together and make all kinds of racket pretty soon.” I didn’t realize that what I’d just said would actually happen. And in a very frightening way.
The cats didn’t seem too alarmed by my comment. Only Abednego lifted his fat, furry head and stared at me. His eyes blinked slowly. Then he put his head down again and licked his paws.
“What’s on your mind, little boy?” I reached down for him, but he hissed back at me. “Abednego! Is that any way to behave?”
He responded by making a beeline for the gazebo, squeezing his plump black belly under the white latticework—his favorite hiding spot. Whenever he was missing, I first checked under the gazebo.
“He’s upset about something,” I muttered, playing with Lily White, my fluffy white cat, now a year old. Sitting there, I felt a bit miffed at Abednego, not knowing what on earth was on his mind. Maybe he shared my indifference toward the strangers in our yard. Several former colleagues of Dad’s had already arrived—emergency room nurses and doctors. They were laughing and sharing stories in the shelter of the large gazebo.
Originally, Mom had decided to book a downtown hotel suite for the occasion. In the end, though, Dad got his way—a simple springtime picnic on the grounds of our one-hundred-year-old farmhouse.
Casually, I looked toward the back porch and noticed Mom motioning from the kitchen window. She called through the screen. “Merry, come and help serve finger food.”
I was glad she’d asked—something to do. Quickly, I left my private post, and the three remaining cats insisted on following me up the back steps and into the house.
By the time I arrived in the kitchen, Mom was occupied with the arrangement of carrot sticks, celery, cauliflower, and broccoli on one side of a round tray.
When I caught her eye, I noticed she seemed a bit stressed. “Please pass this tray around outside, honey.” She glanced at the sky through the wide kitchen window. “And pray that the weather holds.”
Her request was understandable. With temperatures soaring and humidity hovering in the ninety-percent range, the chance of a storm was extremely high. I hoped—and prayed—for both Dad’s and Mom’s sake that the breeze might blow the ominous clouds far away.
I headed toward the back door, carrying the enormous tray. My mouth watered at the sight of the creamy, homemade buttermilk dressing smack-dab in the center. There were other delicacies, too, and I made note of the barbecued chicken wings and drumsticks, hoping some of them might get passed over so I could have a taste later.
Dad’s party was in full swing. The gazebo was filling up with folks offering their best wishes for his early retirement. Gingerly, I carried the tray across the yard and up the white wooden gazebo steps.
“Here’s my girl,” Dad said. His eyes lit up as he began making introductions. “This is my daughter, Merry. She’s quite the photographer, so you may see her roaming the grounds taking candid shots.”
“Hello. Nice to meet you,” I said, smiling and feeling terribly awkward, yet offering my courtesy.
Dad nodded, obviously pleased that I’d made an attempt to chat. “Merry’s making a scrapbook of the afternoon,” he commented. “So her old dad will remember this day.”
“Oh, Daddy,” I said, feeling the heat of embarrassment work its way into my face. “You’re not old.”
Several of the men agreed.
“My daughter’s an optimistic young lady,” Dad said, winking at me.
“And she must be very thoughtful, too,” added one of the nurses, smiling. She went on to say that she’d attended a creative workshop on scrapbooking recently. “What a wonderful way to record special memories.”
She’s right about that, I thought, recalling the cherished scrapbooks of my twin sister, Faithie, and me. The long-ago pictures brought back some of the happiest days of my life—days before Faithie died of leukemia at age seven.
I kept smiling and playing hostess, taking the tray items around to fifteen or more people. The finger food vanished quickly, and I headed toward the house to stock up.
“Merry, honey,” Dad called. “Why don’t we have a group picture when you come back out?”
“Okay,” I replied and hurried into the kitchen.
“Back so soon?” Mom said, eyeing the empty tray.
I nodded. “People are showing up in droves. Probably because of all the free food.”
“Merry, for goodness’ sake,” Mom scolded. “Your father’s a highly respected doctor in Lancaster County.”
“Was…”
She was shaking her head at me. “C’mon, Merry. You know what I mean.”
“Sorry, Mom. It just came out wrong.”
She fell silent, going about the business of scraping more carrots. I leaned against the fridge, watching Lily White chase her golden-haired brothers around the corner and into the family room.
“Are the Zooks coming?” I asked, thinking of our Amish neighbors and good friends.
Mom answered without looking up. “Abe and Esther and the children were invited. I’d be very surprised if they didn’t drop in for a while.”
“What about Old Hawk Eyes? Do you think she’ll come?”
Mom’s head jerked up. Her deep brown eyes bored into me. “Merry, now, really.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Everyone calls Miss Spindler that…even the Zook kids!”
>
Mom shook her head. “Does she deserve a nickname like that?”
“Well, she’s always spying on the neighborhood. Always seems to know exactly what’s going on in SummerHill, you know.”
Mom knew it was true, and she had too many things on her mind to argue with me now. “Ruby Spindler is a lonely old lady, but she has a heart of gold” was all she said.
I bit my tongue—wasn’t going to remind Mom unduly of Miss Spindler’s nosy behavior. I headed back outside to prepare for the group picture Dad wanted. That’s when a crack of thunder like I’d never heard boomed down on the party.
Abednego darted out from under the gazebo as though he’d been shot. He came straight for me across the yard, and if I hadn’t stood perfectly still he would’ve tangled up in my feet and made me fall, camera and all.
Another deafening thunderclap followed, and I ran to the safety of the house. Inside, I set down my camera equipment and raced to the family room windows, hoping to see where my elderly cat had run for cover.
Then I spotted him. His long black tail was pointing straight up as he dashed around the side of the house, heading for the road.
“Yee-ikes!” I said, hurrying back to the kitchen.
“What is it, dear?” Mom asked, scurrying about.
“I think Abednego’s completely flipped out.” I didn’t bother to explain. But I had the strangest feeling that I might never see my beloved baby again.
Chapter
2
I scrambled to the hall closet and pulled out an old raincoat and hat. Those thunderbumpers had done their job, giving clear warning. The sky opened right up like a burst dam.
My golden-haired cats—Shadrach and Meshach—and Lily White at least had enough sense to come in out of the storm. They’d made a beeline to the stairs that led to my bedroom. Actually, it was sort of their room, too, since I allowed all four of my cats to sleep at the foot of my big bed.
SummerHill Secrets, Volume 2 Page 27