SummerHill Secrets, Volume 2

by Beverly Lewis

  Lily White rubbed against my bedroom slipper, and Meshach hung around like he hardly knew what to do with himself. Shadrach waited, intense eyes blinking only occasionally.

  “Count on me to find him,” I promised. But I had no idea what my next move would be. Abednego had already been gone for two days.

  Meshach seemed terribly insecure and followed me to the bathroom door. “This is where I draw the line,” I said, picking him up and kissing his soft, warm head. “I take showers alone.”

  Meow. It was as if he was pleading to be with me, and the sad expression on his face broke my heart anew. “We’ll talk this afternoon when I get home from school,” I told him.

  I knew we wouldn’t have much time to “talk”—Meshach and I—because as soon as the school bus dropped me off, I’d have to get myself packed and head over to Miss Spindler’s.

  In the shower, all I could think of was Abednego, possibly struck by lightning or drowned…or maybe only half alive.

  Downstairs, Mom had something akin to a royal feast prepared for breakfast. It was her typical Saturday morning brunch fare, except today was Monday. She’d gone to lots of trouble to cook up her favorite recipes because she and Dad were leaving for Costa Rica this afternoon.

  “I want this to be a breakfast to remember,” Mom declared as she served up little pancakes, cheese omelets with onions and green peppers, German sausage, and French toast with powdered sugar and maple syrup.

  “You outdid yourself,” I said, placing my napkin in my lap.

  Dad raised his eyebrows. “Better be thankful, kiddo,” he said. “I doubt Miss Spindler will come close to spoiling you like this.”

  I nodded, waiting for Mom to join us.

  She dried her hands and then sat down, smiling across the table at me. “Ruby Spindler is an extraordinary cook, so I’m positive you won’t go hungry.”

  Then I knew why Mom had chosen our eccentric neighbor to watch over me. She wanted someone to dote on me—look after me with meticulous care. “Oh, Mom, for pete’s sake. Miss Spindler doesn’t have to baby me.” I was laughing.

  “Well, she’d better give it her best shot,” Dad said, winking at me.

  I bowed my head for the prayer, grateful to have such thoughtful parents. Dad gave thanks for the meal in his deep voice, and I knew I’d miss them. Even though they’d be gone only for six days.

  Later, we hugged our good-byes. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine,” I assured them. “And have a great trip.”

  Dad whispered in my ear, “Be kind to Old Hawk Eyes.”

  I giggled, trying not to distract Mom from her packing. Glancing at my watch, I grabbed my school bag and headed down the front stairs to the door. “My bus is coming,” I called to them.

  “Have a good day at school,” Mom said from the top of the steps. “Remember to set the lamp timers before you leave for Miss Spindler’s this afternoon.”

  “I’ll remember.”

  “And take your cats along with you,” Mom reminded.

  “Naturally,” I called up to her. Didn’t she know I wouldn’t leave my precious babies alone in an empty house?

  I headed out the front door and down the steps, thinking again of Abednego. My emotions were hanging by a thread—I missed him that much. And when I spied Chelsea on the bus, we talked of my runaway cat from the time I sat down until we scrambled to our lockers.

  “We’ll find him, Mer,” she said, trying to soothe me.

  “I truly hope so.” I opened my locker and rummaged through the chaos in the bottom. “Because if I don’t…” I paused.

  “If you don’t…what?” She leaned over and gawked at me with those deep-set sea-green eyes of hers.

  Tears welled up and began to spill down my cheeks. “Oh great. I’m losing it at school,” I bawled.

  Chelsea draped her arm over my shoulder, and we huddled there near the bottom shelf of my locker. “It’ll be okay,” she kept saying over and over.

  I wished my emotions hadn’t run away with me, because just then I heard a familiar male voice. Jon Klein’s.

  “Everything fine here?” he asked.

  I gulped, wiping my eyes and taking a deep breath. Chelsea and I stood up together. “Hi, Jon,” Chelsea said.

  “You two look upset,” he replied.

  Chelsea nodded, glancing at me. “Have you ever lost something super significant?” she said—in alliteration-eze, no less.

  Jon stepped back, blinking his brown eyes. “How significant are we talking?”

  Chelsea waved him away. “Never mind, you wouldn’t understand.”

  “Try me,” he said, coming closer…looking at me.

  I straightened up. “What Chelsea’s trying to say is…” I stopped, thinking how it would sound to blurt out that I was mourning my lost cat, wondering how Jon would react.

  So far, he was smiling. “Mistress Merry, make me marvel.”

  I couldn’t believe it. He wanted to play the Alliteration Game—now!

  “What letter?” I mumbled.

  “C’s,” he replied, shifting his books from one arm to the other.

  “Okay, here goes.” I took a deep breath and began. “My crazy cat commands constant care,” I said.

  Chelsea jumped in. “Merry’s cunning cat can’t catch cold…he’s old.”

  I turned around to face her. “Hey, that rhymed—and with alliteration, too!”

  Jon was grinning. Not at Chelsea, at me! “So…let me get this straight,” he said. “Your cat’s both suffering and absent?”

  “In plain English, yes,” I said.

  “So sorry…sad story,” Jon alliterated and rhymed.

  “Hey, what’s with this?” I asked. “Is this the expanded version of the word game?”

  Jon shrugged, his eyes still on me. “Could be.”

  Just when I thought I might fall in love with him, standing there sounding so charming, the bell rang for first period.

  “Later, ladies,” he said, heading down the hall.

  Chelsea was giggling into my locker. “Didn’t I tell you, Mer? This is so incredible!”

  I grabbed my three-ring binder. “Keep it to yourself,” I told her. “No one, and I mean no one, needs to know.”

  “C’mon! Jon likes you and you like—”

  “Don’t say it!” I interrupted and rushed off to homeroom.

  Chapter

  8

  Right after school, Chelsea dragged me off to the bus stop, probably so I wouldn’t end up alone with Jon. But since he rode the same bus we did, there wasn’t any real way to avoid seeing him.

  “What’re you doing?” I whispered, pulling away from her at the curb.

  “Trying to save you your share of heartache,” she said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You know.” She motioned her head slightly toward the left of me.

  “Jon?” I mouthed the word silently.

  She nodded.

  “Pretend we didn’t see him,” I whispered.

  “Okay, quick! Open your English book.”

  But by that time, I could see Jon out of the corner of my eye. Still, I shuffled through my book, going along with her request.

  No use. Jon came right up to us and stood next to me. His sleeve actually touched my arm. “So what’s with the expanded word-game notion?” he asked.

  I smiled, not saying a word.

  “I’ll take you on,” he said.

  Chelsea started howling. “You’re kidding! You aim to alliterate and rhyme…at the same time?”

  I nearly choked. Chelsea was too good at this. A natural.

  “What’s the good word, Mistress Merry?” Jon asked, smiling down at me.

  I shrugged, closing my English book. “It’ll pose problems—take plenty of practice, probably.” I watched the school bus head our way. “But then, so did alliteration-eze at first.”

  “Too true,” said Chelsea, grinning at me.

  The bus doors swooshed open and we climbe
d on, one after the other, like three blind mice—three very smart ones.

  It turned out that Jon sat in front of Chelsea and me, turning around to talk with us the whole way home. In no time, the three of us had decided the extended word game was a truly good challenge—the alliterated rhyme—but we hadn’t decided what to call the game yet.

  Strangely enough, I had a powerful feeling that Jon wanted this to be a special game—exclusive—between him and me. He never came right out and said it, of course, but it was the way he kept looking at me whenever we discussed it.

  Chelsea, on the other hand, was having a great time observing the two of us. I was afraid she was reading too much into things, though. And I let her know so as we got off the bus at the willow grove, just down the hill from my house.

  “Please don’t get any ideas about Jon and me,” I told her.

  She was silent, her eyes twinkling.

  “I’m not kidding, Chelsea!”

  “What’s not to get? I’m not totally dense. You’re nuts for Jon—ditto for him.”

  I kicked a pebble, wishing for a different topic, anything but speculative talk about Jon Klein!

  Chelsea kept babbling about how perfect he and I were together. I couldn’t stand for her or anyone else declaring such things. That was my business and a very private matter, to say the least.

  Finally we reached my house. Chelsea waved good-bye with a silly know-it-all grin, and I checked the mailbox. To tell the truth, I was glad for the solitude. Glad, too, that Chelsea hadn’t asked to come in and help me pack. Miss Spindler would be waiting for me.

  I thumbed through the stack of mail on the way up the walk. Hardly any bills or ads this time, but I noticed several pieces of personal mail. Two for Mom—one from Aunt Teri and the other from an old friend in the antiques business in Vermont. The third letter was from Levi Zook, addressed to me.

  “Perfect timing,” I muttered as I went around the house to the kitchen door.

  My three remaining cats were waiting for me in the kitchen, near their bowl. Placing the unopened letter on the counter, I knelt down to stroke them.

  “Ready for a snack?” I asked, which usually brought gleeful smiles.

  But today all they wanted was my gentle touch. I fed them Kitty Kisses anyway, and they enjoyed the treat all the more because I sat on the kitchen floor with them.

  “You guys are spoiled worse than rotten.” I stroked Lily White, hoping she’d overlook my use of the male gender. “I love my prissy little lady, too,” I said for her benefit.

  While they ate, I stared at the envelope, high on the counter. Levi’s letters had come fast and frequent right after his Christmas visit, but more recently they’d slowed down. He’s probably busy with his college work, I thought.

  I was busy, too. This last semester of school had been truly tough. Epecially the amount of homework—almost more than I could keep up with sometimes, even with Dad’s voluntary assistance. Skip and everyone else had warned me that my first year in high school would be a big transition. I just hadn’t expected it to last clear into spring.

  There was only one full month of school left, and I could hardly wait for summer. But first things first. Tomorrow was my sixteenth-and-a-half birthday. Miss Spindler had no idea about it, but I was going to celebrate. Probably just me and my cats somewhere outside with my camera, a blue sky, and a sunny meadow filled with buttercups.

  Then I thought of Abednego again. The pain of loss stabbed my heart. The worst of it was not knowing if he was dead or alive, sick or his robust self. Where, oh where, can he be? I wondered.

  Meshach came over and nestled into my lap, taking up every inch of space. It was time for our talk.

  “Your brother’s out there somewhere,” I assured him. “The Lord sees Abednego this very minute. I know He does.” I sighed and continued. “If God can take care of an ordinary sparrow, He’ll take care of our Abednego.”

  Meshach began licking his paws, and I knew my words, whether he understood or not, had calmed him.

  Leaning back on my elbows, I stared at Levi’s letter as Lily White rubbed against my arms. Shadrach curled up against my hip, nose to nose with Meshach. “Are we ready to stay with Auntie Hawk Eyes?”

  At that, Lily White coughed hard and spit up a furball. I couldn’t help myself; I started laughing. It almost sounded like Shadrach and Meshach were chortling a bit, too.

  The phone rang in the middle of our hilarity. Gently, I lifted Meshach off my lap. “Sorry,” I said, getting up. I reached for the wall phone.

  “How’s every little thing, dearie?” It was Miss Spindler.

  “Things are fine,” I said, touching Levi’s letter. “I just got home from school and gave my cats a snack.”

  “Aw, the darlings,” she cooed.

  “Yes, they’re pretty excited about coming to see you,” I told her. I didn’t say my cats were wildly anticipating the prospect of sampling her assortment of mice.

  “Well, you come on over whenever you’re ready, hear?”

  I glanced at the wall clock. “Give me about an hour.”

  “That’s right fine,” she said.

  I hung up the phone and picked up the letter, taking it to the privacy of my bedroom. Of course, there was no need, really. The house was void of humans.

  Still, I sat on my bed, surrounding myself with plenty of huggable pillows. When I was completely settled, I opened the letter and began to read.

  Dear Merry,

  I hope you’re enjoying the warm springtime weather there in SummerHill. Surely the farmers are busy plowing these days. Sometimes I miss farming and working with God’s fertile soil. Now I’m tilling a different kind of soil and sowing the seeds of the Word. I’ve never been so happy, Merry. Coming here to Bible college was the best thing I ever set out to do. The last time I phoned you, I said I’d be home for my Easter break, but just this week I’ve decided differently. Something’s come up, and after much fervent prayer, I believe that my staying here is the Lord’s will.

  As for this summer, I will be taking more classes but hope to get home for a quick visit with my family, maybe around the Fourth of July. I’ll look forward to seeing you then.

  Meanwhile, please greet your mother and father for me.

  Your friend,

  Levi

  I folded the letter, staring out the window. Levi was right about plowing season, all right. The days had been warm, accompanied by frequent afternoon showers. Perfect for enticing Amish farmers and their mules out at the crack of dawn. Hyacinths and daffodils were blooming everywhere, including those in my mom’s flower beds.

  Getting up, I went to my desk and opened the center drawer. Your friend, Levi had signed off this time.

  I slid the letter into the drawer. Levi had found himself a new girlfriend. I was almost positive.

  I suppose I should’ve reread his letter, double-checking my suspicions, but all I really needed to do was ask Rachel. She’d know, probably. At least, I guessed she would. But big brothers didn’t always divulge their romantic game plans to younger sisters. Firsthand, I knew that to be true.

  Sighing, I gathered up my school clothes for the next three days, as well as my pajamas, robe, and my camera. Even though I tried not to let the news from Levi sadden me, I felt nearly hollow inside when I coupled the news with the loss of Abednego.

  “When it rains it pours,” I spouted into my closet. “Why’d he have to go and do this now?” But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I preferred the letter over having Levi call me, stuttering around, trying to explain why he wasn’t coming home this week.

  Still, it hurt. And I was honestly glad to be going to Miss Spindler’s. Too bad her lookout room or telescope, or whatever, couldn’t see clear out to Virginia, to a Mennonite Bible college…and to Levi Zook.

  Chapter

  9

  Miss Spindler was humming to her vegetable garden in the side yard as I hauled my suitcase up Strawberry Lane. Followed by my three devoted
cats, I saw—on further observation—that she had every right to be truly captivated by her prim rows of onions and radishes.

  “Another green spring day in SummerHill,” I said when she spotted me and my parade of pets.

  “My, oh my, there you are.” She smiled, eyeing the cats. “And those furball critters of yours.”

  “We’re all here, except Abednego,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t change her mind about the cats staying.

  She shook her head. “The poor thing hasn’t shown up?”

  “Not yet,” I said, glancing down at my cats. “But I haven’t given up hope.”

  “We can only hope he’s safe somewhere,” she said. “Let’s go inside and get you settled, dearie.” She turned and marched up to the back stoop and opened the door. “We’ll have some right good fun, I say.”

  I smiled, calling for the cats to follow.

  Indoors, the kitchen smelled of delectable things, and I thought of Mom’s wish for me to be well taken care of while she and Dad were out of the country. There were several pies laid out on a sideboard near the round dining room table.

  Through the doorway, I could see the old-fashioned parlor, overflowing with quaint furniture from the past—fringed shades on tall floor lamps, a black steamer trunk doubling as a coffee table, and an old pump organ. Overstuffed chairs and a large sofa were draped with white sheets, as if someone were remodeling. The formal living room had remained exactly the same since I’d first seen this house at age five, when my twin sister and I would visit for tea and apple pie with Mom.

  “Well, come along, now. I’ll show you to your room, Merry.”

  I followed Miss Spindler up the steps to the second floor, keeping my eyes peeled for any clues about her spy tactics. Skip had asked for a full report, and I intended to give him the scoop. That is, if I could just steal away to the attic unattended.

  “This is the guest room,” said Miss Spindler, showing me into a spacious, wide room complete with a fireplace and two large dormer windows.

  “What a pretty place,” I said, spotting the lavender-and-blue Amish Spring Flower quilt pattern, probably made by Esther Zook and her relatives.