SummerHill Secrets, Volume 2

by Beverly Lewis

  “Church friends?” I asked, knowing how picky Dad was.

  “Two are.” The others were school friends of Jon’s, ones I didn’t know very well.

  I was pretty sure Dad would say I couldn’t go. “I guess not. And I’m sorry about tomorrow.”

  “Will you let me know sooner…next time?” He sounded annoyed.

  “Yeah, I can do that.” Truth was, I could’ve let him know this time but didn’t. I’d treated his invitation with reckless indifference.

  Again, we hung up on a slightly sour note. I truly hoped Jon would understand about Rachel’s lamb once I told him the whole story. If he’d just be patient long enough.

  By the time I met Dad at the gazebo, he was looking out through the white latticework. “What took you so long?” he joked.

  “Jonathan Klein.”

  “Great kid…I like him.” Dad was grinning now, raising his eyebrows at me.

  “He seems to like you, too,” I said, eager to know what was on his mind. “So what are we talking about?”

  “Your mother,” he said.

  My breath caught in my throat. “She’s not sick, is she?” Illness was always the first thought to come to mind. Because of Faithie.

  He shook his head, turning to lean against the wood railing so that he was now facing me. “Your mom’s going through what’s commonly known as a midlife crisis, although I don’t think it’s anything to worry about.” He paused, raking his fingers through his hair. “I think her antique shop idea is an excellent one. It’ll keep her busy.”

  “Is there anything I can do? I mean, to make Mom feel better?”

  “Maybe there is,” he said more softly. “Why don’t you talk to her…about Faithie. Share your memories of your twin sister.”

  “Would she want to? I mean, are you sure about this?”

  He nodded, eyes glistening. “Mom still misses Faith terribly. We all do.”

  “We all do.” His words tumbled over and over in my brain.

  I don’t honestly know how I got from where I was standing across the gazebo to my father’s arms. Somehow, I managed through a mist of tears. Dad wrapped me in his strong embrace, and I smelled his subtle cologne fragrance and felt the texture of his golf shirt on my cheek. “Oh, Dad,” I cried. “I miss Faithie, too.”

  Chapter

  5

  I would’ve offered to ride along with Mom after school the next day. I had actually planned to go antique browsing with her, but Rachel Zook was sitting on the white gazebo steps when I came bounding up the back walk. Wisps of her light brown hair had slipped out from under her head covering. It looked like she’d run all the way through the willow grove to get here.

  “Hi, Rachel,” I said, observing her black dress and gray apron. Looked like Amish mourning clothes to me. “Jingle didn’t die, did she?” I barely got the words out.

  “No…no, no,” she said, glancing down at her drab clothing. “But I don’t blame ya for thinkin’ that.” Her face broke into a small smile. “But Jingle’s still only takin’ enough nourishment to keep her alive. Dat has got her on tube feeding now.”

  The muscles in my jaw began to relax. “You had me worried for a minute.”

  “Jah, I ’spect I did.”

  I invited her inside for lemonade and freshly baked cookies. I assumed there would be some ready and waiting on the kitchen counter, because that was Mom’s usual after-school snack for me in the spring and summer.

  We weren’t disappointed. Mom had gone the extra mile and not only made oatmeal cookies but an apple crumb cake, too, along with a pitcher filled with sweet lemonade.

  “Your mom’s an awful gut cook,” Rachel said, sitting down at the table with me.

  “That’s a compliment, coming from you,” I replied, knowing what an incredible cook her mother was.

  Then, out of the blue, Rachel said, “Jingle’s bein’ shunned by the flock.”

  I sat up straight in my chair. “Why, what’s happened?”

  “The rest of the sheep sense her troubled state.”

  “Maybe you should keep force-feeding her,” I suggested.

  Rachel shook her head. “Dat and Mam think it’s just a matter of days and she’ll be gone. Unless…” Her voice faded away.

  “Unless what?”

  “Well, if it ain’t God’s will for her to go yet.”

  I should’ve known Rachel would say that. God’s sovereign will covered all His creation; it was I who hadn’t thought to invite the Lord into the situation. “Let’s ask God to help us with Jingle,” I said, ready to pray right then.

  She didn’t answer, but her blue eyes were serious. “Talkin’ like that to God is up to you…and Levi,” she said softly.

  “Levi?” I was startled to hear her mention his name.

  “He’s home for a visit. Arrived not more than an hour ago.”

  So Miss Spindler was right. Once again, she knew what she was talking about. “Has Levi prayed for the lamb yet?” I asked.

  “Not that I know of, but he’s looked her over real gut. ’Tween you and me, I doubt he’s as concerned ’bout Jingle as we are.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Her eyes took on an almost distant look. “S’posin’ his distraction is understandable.”

  I listened, waiting for more.

  “Levi brought a girl home…to meet us,” Rachel sputtered out the words.

  “His girlfriend from the Mennonite college?”

  “Jah.”

  So I was right all these weeks about my suspicions. No wonder his letters had stopped. Quickly, I remembered my manners. “Well, I’m happy for him. For you, too, Rachel.”

  “Me?” Rachel blinked her eyes. “Ya know, I was hopin’ you’d be my sister-in-law someday, Cousin Merry.”

  I laughed softly. “Oh, things are over between Levi and me. He’s all grown-up now, and a Mennonite, too. I never would’ve fit very well in his Plain world.”

  “I s’pose not,” she whispered, head down. “But it was awful nice to hope.”

  Getting up, I carried the pitcher of lemonade to the table. “You know, I just realized Levi hasn’t heard the news about Miss Spindler’s secret.”

  “Don’tcha mean Old Hawk Eyes?” Rachel asked.

  “To me she’s simply Miss Spindler now. I don’t think she deserves a nickname anymore. Never did, really.” Miss Spindler had turned out to be a remarkably astute old lady. Outsmarting all of us.

  “I’m sure Levi’s gonna want to see you while he’s home,” Rachel said before she left.

  My heart actually stayed put hearing that. I guess I surprised myself, too. Maybe I was truly over any romantic interest in my lifelong friend. “I’d like to meet his girlfriend sometime,” I told her.

  “You mean you’d like to approve of her?”

  We literally howled at that, and since parting for us was always next to impossible, I walked all the way out to the lane and down to the willow grove shortcut with her.

  The branches above us mushroomed over our heads like a giant tent. Deep in the willows, we found our secret place, more beautiful than one could imagine. The place had belonged to Faithie and me first. After her death, Rachel and I had claimed it as our own. Only one adult had ever visited here. My mother. That was two months shy of a year ago, the day I’d discovered baby Charity abandoned in our gazebo.

  Beyond the willow grove was pure sunshine. Golden rays bounced off the grassy meadow to the west of the Zooks’ barnyard. And out behind the barn, the pond was aglow with dancing light. Summer was almost here!

  “It won’t be long and I’ll be joining the Amish church, Merry.” Rachel’s face was serious as she said it, and her eyes shone.

  “You sure now?”

  “Jah, it’s the right way for me,” she said reverently. “Matthew and I will both take our kneelin’ vow this September.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  She smiled, her dimples showing. “A gut many young people will be joining church this fall.
Oh my, and Dat’s ever so glad ’bout it.”

  I thought of Abe Zook’s disappointment over his second son, Levi, joining ranks with the Mennonites. “Makes up for certain ones not joining, I guess.”

  “Jah. Dat thinks it’s high time we Amish take back our children from the clutches of the world,” Rachel said unexpectedly. “He’s started speakin’ out more and more ’bout raising the standard for our young people.”

  “Does he plan to talk to Levi about returning to his Amish roots?”

  “Well, yes and no. It’s a right touchy situation, with Martha around and all.”

  “Martha?”

  “Levi’s girlfriend—Martha Martin.”

  For a second, I nearly laughed, thinking of the alliteration. “Is she staying at your house?” I asked, composing myself.

  She nodded sheepishly. “I’m sharing my room with her.”

  “You’ll get acquainted real quick that way.”

  “Well, ain’t that the truth!”

  I watched her turn and head out of the willow grove, her slender form flitting through the trees and the underbrush as the sun twinkled down on her.

  “I’ll be right over after I change clothes,” I hollered to her, remembering the dear little lamb who needed me.

  “Make it snappy!” she called over her shoulder.

  I would hurry, all right. Because I was sure I knew what to do to get Jingle’s attention. I could hardly wait to try!

  On the way back up the hill, I saw Mom driving out of our lane, then make the turn onto Strawberry Lane. Where was she headed? She never went into town that way. It was the opposite direction!

  Quickening my pace, I shot through the front and side yards. Just in time, too, because when I peered through the trees, I saw Mom pulling into our neighbor’s driveway. “What’s she doing at Miss Spindler’s?” I wondered aloud.

  Mom and Ruby Spindler had been casual friends for as long as I remembered. Our elderly neighbor seemed to enjoy doting on our family, sharing her freshly baked pies and other pastries. But never had she and Mom been close friends. So this was a surprise! In fact, if I hadn’t had an ailing lamb to tend to, I would’ve schemed to get to the bottom of Mom’s visit with our eccentric neighbor. But I had more important things on my mind. Today, I intended to change the course of Jingle Belle’s life!

  Chapter

  6

  The afternoon sky had begun to turn overcast by the time I changed clothes and headed toward the Zooks’ farm. Because of the gray clouds, I felt somewhat gloomy. But I was determined to help Jingle Belle, so I tried to ignore the discouraged feeling.

  When I saw Rachel, I told her only a select part of my idea. “I’ve been thinking of doing something. It might sound a little weird. But…it just might save Jingle’s life.”

  She gave me a sidelong glance, but I ignored it. We waited near the fence for the orphaned lamb to wander over. The tiny bell tinkled its sweet sound, and we petted Jingle’s soft coat.

  A lump caught in my throat when I saw how pitiful she was. Like a shadow of herself. “She’s pining away, all right,” I whispered.

  “An awful shame,” Rachel replied.

  I considered my unconventional idea, pondering it over and over in my mind. Then I got brave and made my intention known, so I wouldn’t get cold feet and back out. “Do you think it’s safe for me to go inside the fence?” I asked Rachel at last.

  “Well, Merry, whatever for?”

  “I want to try to enter Jingle’s world, so to speak. Honestly, I think she’ll take the nursing bottle better if I do.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Isn’t it worth a try?” I insisted.

  Rachel scanned the area, shading her eyes with one hand. “Ach, just a minute! Looks to me like Dat and Levi let the rams out to the back pasture.” It was true, only the ewes and smaller sheep—and Jingle Belle—remained in the enclosure. “It might well be safe enough for ya,” she said, still surveying things.

  “Maybe this is providential,” I spoke up. “With the rams let out and all.”

  Rachel seemed to like my mention of “providential.” Delight was written on her face. “Jah, maybe it’s not such a bad idea, after all.” And she ran to get the bottle of milk.

  While she was gone, I prayed that God would help me connect with the starving lamb. “Somehow, Lord, please let Jingle take more nourishment today,” I prayed under my breath. “Please…”

  My eyes caught sight of the willow tree, the one that had grown from the simple fishing pole. If Faithie were alive, she’d be right here, helping me, I thought. But I knew better than to talk to my sister, who’d gone to heaven. It was God who would help me now.

  “Here you are,” Rachel said, running toward me with the bottle of milk.

  I tested the nipple, squirting a thin stream of milk on Jingle’s nose by accident. Then I climbed over the plank fence. “Hello, sweet girl,” I whispered, sitting down next to Jingle. “I’m here, baby, just for you.”

  She began to nuzzle next to me, making the saddest, yet dearest sounds. Jingle Belle was crying. Someone had cared enough to crawl over the fence. To her side!

  Almost at once, the clouds seemed to part, allowing the sun to break through for a moment. When I offered the milk bottle, there was no hesitation from Jingle. The lamb drank heartily.

  “That-a girl,” I whispered, holding hard to the bottle.

  Rachel was nearly breathless with excitement. “Wait’ll I tell Dat and Mam,” I heard her say, and then she flew off toward the house.

  “You’re the best little lamb I know,” I cooed to Jingle, who didn’t seem to mind my dinner talk. “We’ll fatten you up and get you well, don’t you worry.”

  There were only the contented sounds of Jingle’s suckle. No sorrowful bleatings. I was overjoyed! “Thank you, Lord” was all I could say.

  By the time Rachel arrived, bringing along her mother, Esther, and the rest of the children, Jingle had come close to draining the bottle dry.

  “Let’s get her more milk!” young Nancy exclaimed.

  “Jah, and hurry up about it,” Mrs. Zook said, clapping her hands.

  The second bottle disappeared almost as quickly, and Jingle began to nod her head up and down. “Look, she’s thankin’ you, Merry,” little Susie said.

  I climbed out of the fence and stood there with the Zooks, admiring the lamb on the other side.

  “I should say, I believe she’s gonna live,” Esther announced under a sky that seemed bluer than before. “Well, I do declare.”

  “Wait’ll we tell Levi,” said Nancy and Ella Mae.

  “Praise be!” little Susie said, and the younger girls scampered off.

  “We’re ever so grateful to you,” Rachel said, throwing her arms around me in a jubilant hug.

  “I’m glad it turned out this way,” I said.

  “ ‘Merry had a little lamb, it’s fleece was white as snow,’ ” Rachel’s mother recited comically.

  Rachel herself finished the verse. “ ‘And everywhere that Merry went, the lamb was sure to go.’ ”

  We had a good laugh, but there was more to it. A precious animal’s life had been saved. Right before our eyes!

  Later that night, as I dressed for bed, I thought of Jingle and her world of the sheep corral. What had made me think to crawl over the fence and join her there? More than that, why had it worked?

  The night sky was evident through the curtains. White fog had begun to descend on Lancaster County. I went to stand at one of the windows, looking out at the ancient maple in our front yard. Far sturdier than the frail weeping willow near the sheep fence, this tree had shaded our lawn for more than a hundred and fifty years, providing refuge on hot days and now lending support for a wooden swing, too. It was also the tree Lissa Vyner, my dear friend, had crouched under, calling me out of bed one moonlit night a year and a half ago. I hadn’t know it then, but along the way—since that night—God had made me aware of my “helping” gift. First stray cats, then
an abused girl friend, an autistic boy, an abandoned baby, and now a sickly lamb.

  Often, I worried that I got too caught up in my “Miss Fix-It” mentality. But I’m coming to understand myself better these days. I’m not so hard on myself, I guess. Losing Faithie may have gotten the helper thing going. I don’t know for sure. It really doesn’t matter. What counts is that I’m depending on the Lord for heavenly help.

  Before slipping into bed, I thanked God again for letting Jingle live. “That dear little lamb is a lot like I was after Faithie died. For years, I couldn’t cry over her. Remember, Lord? But when I finally did, I started to heal.”

  I brushed my tears away. “I think when Jingle drank all that milk today, she began to heal, too,” I continued my prayer. “Thank you, God, for giving me the idea about going into her world…the way Jesus did for us when He left heaven and came to earth.”

  I hadn’t thought of the connection before—between what God did for humanity and what I’d done for Jingle—but it got me wound up. I really couldn’t sleep a wink, I was that excited.

  Instead of wasting time tossing in bed, I got up and went to my desk and turned on the light. Now was a good time to double-check my English assignment for tomorrow, and while I was at it, I scrutinized my math and history homework, too.

  I thought of my school and church friends: Lissa Vyner, Chelsea Davis, and Ashley Horton. All three would be giggling if they could see me now.

  It turned out that I only stayed up till just past eleven. Then, I fell into a delicious, deep sleep. I dreamed I was a tall, sturdy maple tree, planted near a river—like the one in the first psalm. My roots reached far down into the soil, and nothing could shake me.

  When I awakened hours later, my arms were stiff and nearly numb, like frozen tree branches in winter. I sat up in bed, moving my arms to get the blood circulating. Yet the tree dream lingered in my mind, the most peculiar dream ever.

  Chapter