SummerHill Secrets, Volume 2

by Beverly Lewis

  Mom smiled at this news. “How lovely.”

  But it wasn’t so lovely, her bringing up the subject of Levi Zook. Not today. Not after everything Jon and I had been through!

  Still, the question remained: Why had Levi come here? Mom hadn’t made that clear. But I remembered Rachel saying she was sure Levi would want to see me.

  Sooner or later, I’d have to address the sticky situation with Jon. If I wanted to continue as his best friend, I’d have to. It just wasn’t fair otherwise. Besides, I knew I wanted to see Levi again. For more than one reason.

  Chapter

  12

  “Mom, how could you?” I wailed the second Jon left. “I don’t get it. You seemed relieved before that Levi was out of my life, and then you bring him up…in front of Jon! It doesn’t make any sense!”

  She turned to the refrigerator and stood in the doorway for the longest time without speaking. “I’m sorry, Merry.” She closed the refrigerator door and stood there, the gloomiest expression on her face. A stark contrast to the jovial face she’d worn minutes before while telling Jon and me about her day.

  I wished I knew what to do. Stay and try to patch things up with Mom? Dad would probably say that was a good idea. But I was so angry with her. So terribly confused, too.

  It would be easier for me to wander over to the Zooks’ and busy myself there. Maybe check on Jingle Belle. Or, who knows, maybe bump into Levi.

  “What did Levi say when he came over?” I asked, more cautious now.

  Mom ran some water and drank a sip out of a glass before answering. “It was quite obvious he was eager to see you, Merry. That’s why he came.”

  “But why did you have to say anything in front of Jon?” I still saw no logical reason for it.

  She shook her head. “You had just mentioned Rachel, and my mind leaped to Levi.” She went to the table and sat down. “I don’t know what’s come over me lately.” She began to whimper. “Sometimes I make the silliest mistakes—forget things, too. I’m worn out most of the time, but my doctor says it’s typical.”

  Her doctor?

  Suddenly, I felt truly horrible. I had no idea Mom was dealing with something physical. Dad had said it was a midlife crisis. Whatever that was. But by the sound of it, Mom was experiencing something worse. Why hadn’t Dad told me?

  “Oh, Mom, it’s okay to cry,” I said, going to her and stroking her hair. “I’m sorry…about everything. Honest. I shouldn’t have talked to you that way at breakfast. I didn’t know.”

  She blubbered her response, and I had no idea what she said. But the air was definitely cleared between us. I had several more cookies and a glass of milk to wash them down. Before I left for the Zooks’ farm, I kissed her. “I love you, Mom,” I said.

  “I love you, too, honey.” Her tears were gone.

  I felt much better, too.

  Rachel met me halfway between my house and hers. She said she’d been watching for me. Strands of hair at her neck were coming loose from her bun, and she was out of breath. “Merry, I was hopin’ you’d come over.” She seemed anxious.

  “Everything all right?”

  She shook her head. “Jingle’s missing. Somehow, she got out of the fence.”

  I wondered if that was the reason for Levi’s visit. But I didn’t mention it. “Where’d you see her last?”

  “She was near Ol’ Nanna, like she might nurse from her…and then she just disappeared.” Rachel hurried, her gait longer and faster than mine.

  I scrambled to keep up with her. “Is there a place in the fence where she might’ve pushed through?”

  “Honestly, I think she got out through the gate…maybe when Dat fed the older sheep.”

  “There aren’t any wolves or other predators around, are there?” I asked.

  She seemed more concerned about the lamb wandering too far away, forgetting how to get home. Maybe even starving to death. “Sheep are so dumb, ya know?”

  I didn’t know from experience, only from what I’d read in the Bible. “They’re followers, right? They need a leader—a shepherd.”

  She nodded. “That’s why we keep ours fenced in. At least, we try to.”

  The sun grew hotter as we ran together to the north meadow, out past the barn, beyond the pond. It was the same grassland where Rachel and I often gathered daisies and sat in the tall grass, sharing secrets. A wide expanse of land. Not the best place for a new lamb to roam freely. It was obvious why the entire Zook family had joined together to comb this section of land.

  Just ahead, in the deepest grass, Levi and Martha were searching the meadow. To the right of them, Nancy, Ella Mae, and little Susie had joined hands, calling, “Jingle Belle, can you hear us?” over and over. Rachel’s father and younger brother, Aaron, were looking, too. It would take hours to scour every inch of land. Most of the meadow remained untouched.

  Rachel stopped to wipe her forehead. “How will we ever find Jingle?”

  “We won’t give up, that’s how,” I replied, forging ahead. I called out the name I’d chosen for the dear lamb. “Jingle, where are you? Where are you?”

  We kept at it, plodding through patches of meadow, even skirting the edge of the woods, looking, calling louder. I spotted a variety of wild and useful herbs and other plants along the way. I imagined Jingle’s white wooly coat showing up clearly under the powerful spotlight of the sun’s rays. If we could just find her before dark!

  “Where would a baby lamb wander off to?” I said, stopping to catch my breath.

  Rachel shook her head sadly. “That’s the thing…it’s hard to know, really.”

  “She’s got a mind of her own, that’s for sure.”

  “Sheep are like that,” she reminded me. Not giving up, Rachel kept moving through the grass. Her skirt hem brushed the tops of the foliage, and she kept her eyes on the ground.

  I, on the other hand, glanced up ahead every so often. Occasionally, I caught sight of Levi and his girlfriend. They were working the field as a team. So were Rachel’s younger sisters. Abe Zook and Aaron were way off in the outskirts of the meadow, still calling to the wayward lamb.

  Suddenly, I thought of the Pied Piper. In a way, the lost lamb had been an invisible guide, leading us through the thickest grasses and trees. We were trying to follow an unseen trail. Then it occurred to me to look for a narrow path through the grass. “Wouldn’t it be a good idea to look for smashed-down meadow grass?” I asked Rachel.

  “ ’Course it would. Gut thinking!”

  So we turned around and did exactly that. We gazed back at the meadow from this side of the pond. I hoped to spot something to indicate that Jingle had wandered through the tallest grass.

  “Do you see anything?” I asked.

  “Nothin’ at all.” Rachel sounded discouraged.

  “We’ll find her,” I assured her. “Count on me.”

  It was getting close to suppertime. My mother would be worried, especially if I didn’t come home and she went to the Zooks’ and found all of us gone. Except Esther, of course. Thank goodness, Rachel’s mother had stayed behind. My mom would get the facts from her—where we were and why.

  In the distance, I could see the north side of the Zooks’ bank barn and pastureland. The willow grove was to the right of their property, creating a ridge—an obvious dividing line between their land and ours. It was an amazing sight. “It’s glorious here,” I said, scanning the horizon.

  “Jah, the best part of livin’ in the country. The wide, open spaces…and the woods.”

  I thought, just then, of the strange dream I’d had. Of being a maple tree, strong and true. No matter the wind or the weather, a tree like that stands tall. Was I that hardy? I truly wondered.

  Chapter

  13

  Low, slinky rain clouds hung in the sky on the far edge of SummerHill. Thunderbumpers, I’d nicknamed them. Soon, there would be distant thunder, but a change in weather was the furthest thing from my mind. A rain shower wouldn’t spoil our search efforts, most lik
ely. I, for one, wouldn’t let some moisture dampen my spirits. If need be, we could race the weather all the way home. We were going to find Jingle Belle if it took all night!

  Another hour and a half passed quickly. Abe and Aaron and the younger girls headed back across the meadow toward the farmhouse. I wondered if Levi and Martha would do the same, but they persevered. So did Rachel and I. Dusk was coming on fast, and my stomach was growling out of control. It wouldn’t be long till nightfall.

  “We’d better head back. It’s getting too dark now,” Rachel said.

  “You go ahead,” I said. “I want to keep looking.”

  She peered up at the darkening sky. “Soon, you’ll need a flashlight or a lantern.”

  “I have eyes like a cat. I can see in the dark.” Then I remembered the moon. It had appeared just last night while I sat with my cats on the back step. “The moon’s due out any minute.”

  “Not if those clouds keep comin’,” she replied. There was apprehension in her voice.

  “I’ll be all right.” I glanced up to see Levi and Martha still searching. “I’m in good company.”

  She smiled a weak smile and touched my arm. “You won’t mind if I go, then?”

  “I’m fine, honest.”

  She gave me a quick hug. “Maybe Jingle’s wandered back to the corral already.”

  “Wouldn’t someone ring the bell to let us know?”

  “Jah, you’re right.” She turned to go, and I watched her for a few seconds before hurrying across the meadow. I decided to go in the opposite direction, away from Levi and Martha. It would be darker in the woods, but Jingle might’ve lost her way in there.

  Time passed quickly. I lost track of how long it had been since Rachel left, and I couldn’t see my watch anymore. Dusk had come, and I could barely see where I was walking. Still, I was one-hundred-percent-amen sure I’d be able to see a flash of white wool, given the chance.

  A long rumble of thunder rolled across the sky. There was no lightning, though, which would’ve helped me see. If only for an instant.

  I thought of my cats, probably hiding under my bed or in my closet about now. Oh, they hated the sound of thunder! A fleeting, yet frightening thought crossed my mind. Who would comfort my cats if something happened to me—if I lost my way forever? If no one ever found me? I couldn’t imagine Dad or Mom, either one, taking on the job of caring for my cat quartet. And my brother had always made fun of my need to take in strays. Skip didn’t call me cat breath for nothing!

  I could almost feel the dark clouds overhead, and I wished for a flash of lightning. Anything to guide me. “Jingle!” I called, again and again. “Can you hear me?”

  There was not a sound but the crack of thunder following a welcome flash of lightning. I forced myself to concentrate on finding the lost lamb. “I’m here for you, little girl,” I said, clenching my fists. “I’m going to find you!”

  The wind began to hit my face, and then came the pelting rain. In no time, my face and hair were drenched. Thankfully, I was spared the full force of the pounding because of the dense trees. I knew better than to plant myself under one of them, though. The rainstorm was fierce, with flashes of light now cracking out of the sky like jagged white fingers. I was determined to find Jingle, yet I wanted to do the wise thing. I had to get far enough away from the trees and keep low to be safe from the lightning.

  The thunder made my knees feel like rubber. Was I lost? I couldn’t have wandered that far away. Could I?

  In the underbrush, I heard a sound. The low bleating of an animal not far from me. “Jingle? Is that you?”

  I followed the whimpering, determined to find her. A steady flicker of lightning aided me. There, in the thicket—caught in the brushwood not more than three yards from me—was the little lamb.

  “Oh, baby,” I cried, crawling to her. “You’ll be okay now. I’m here. Merry’s here.”

  Her cries broke my heart, and I struggled to free her from the jungle of sharp vines. “Lord, help me,” I whispered, snapping the briar that held her at last. In the process, I cut my fingers. But I couldn’t determine how badly; I only felt the blood slowly oozing from my fingertips.

  I sat on the wet ground, holding the lamb in my arms. Both of us were shaking hard. “Don’t worry,” I said, stroking her, holding her close. But my heart was beating ninety miles an hour.

  After a time, Jingle began to relax. I continued to pet her and talk softly to her. The warmth of the lamb’s body against my own comforted me. “The storm can’t last forever,” I said. “Storms never do.”

  That’s when I remembered what Dad had said so often to me over the years. “Only time will heal that kind of wound.”

  “Time and…God’s love, if we’re patient,” I said into Jingle’s soft coat.

  I remembered my vivid dream about being a maple tree. My roots were deep, grounded in the soil of God’s Word. Thanks to my parents’ spiritual training and the teaching I’d received at church, nothing could knock me down. “Not even Faithie’s death,” I said aloud.

  God had reminded me in a very unique way. Teamed up with Him, I was sturdy enough to face the future without my twin. I could trust God, just as this precious lamb in my lap could count on me to care for her through this truly horrible storm.

  The storm won’t last forever….

  My own words! And what truth they held for me. It was time to let go of the past. I had the ability, with God’s help, to move past the shadows. The truth hit me harder than the rain falling on my face.

  “Thank you, Lord,” I prayed, holding on to the lamb for dear life.

  Chapter

  14

  How long I sat there, I couldn’t tell. After what seemed like hours, the rain finally slowed to a drizzle. It was still mighty dark, but I could see the shadow of the moon behind a cloud. I watched the sky, waiting breathlessly for the moon to become fully visible.

  “We’ll go home soon,” I told Jingle. “We’ll walk under the wonderful white moon.”

  For as long as it took—till we were rescued—I decided to play the Alliteration Word Game. Alone.

  “God is here—hovering, holy, helpful,” I began. “We’ll be glad to get going—gleeful, giddy, and grateful to be home.”

  The familiar wordplay comforted me. Far better than focusing on the frightening flashes far overhead, not to mention what foreign forest friends—or foes—might be furtively lurking.

  Hugging the lamb in my arms, I continued. “Jingle Belle is beautiful, blessed, on her best behavior, both bright and brainy.” I was running out of b words.

  So I tried f, thinking jovial Jon would be jubilant just now. “Faithie was fantastic, fun-loving, fast, faithful, full of life…” I couldn’t go on. Saying descriptive words about my twin made me cry. My tears mingled with the rain on my face till it was impossible to tell which was which.

  I thought of the summertime flowers that had refused to bloom after she died. And the horrible drought that followed. Most everything green had turned an ugly brown. When the rain finally did come that year, it had seemed to come in buckets. Soon, life flowered around us again. Just as I believed my life without Faithie was going to blossom…from this night on.

  It was getting late. A hoot owl startled me in a tree nearby, and I could hear rustling in the underbrush. Noises that were not the wind. I could only imagine what snakes and other crawling things might be out here.

  Scared, I began to hum a song from church, wondering what songs they might play at my funeral if I should die here tonight. Purposely, I forced those thoughts out of my mind. I focused, instead, on God’s sovereign will covering all His creation. That meant me, too! Merry Hanson trapped in a ferocious storm…lost in a deep and dark woods, alone and afraid. Yet God’s will covered me. I took true comfort in that.

  Just then, a glimmer of light caught my eye. It was coming toward us, bobbing through the woods! Then I heard my name ringing through the trees. “Merry, can you hear me?”

  It was Le
vi’s voice! Courageous and strong.

  “Over here!” I called back, still clinging to the lamb.

  “Merry!”

  Louder, I called back. “Levi…I’m here!”

  Once the moon came out, he found me. His flashlight helped, too. “Oh, Merry,” he said, bending down and shining the light in my face. “Are you all right?”

  “My socks are soggy and most of me is soaking wet. But I found Jingle…and she’s safe, too.”

  He reached down and helped me up, lamb and all. Faintly, I could see his face in the moonlight. “I was awful worried, Merry.”

  “I didn’t think you’d come for me,” I said, totally amazed.

  “Both your father and mine are searching, too. You gave us a fright, really you did.”

  “I’m okay, honest.”

  But he kept looking at me, as if he had to see for himself. “You’ve been crying, Merry…” Then, without waiting for me to answer, he brushed away my tears with the pads of his thumbs. “There,” he whispered, “much better.” Then, unexpectedly, he pulled me close, along with the lamb, into his arms. “I prayed you’d be all right,” he was saying. “We all did.”

  “And I am,” I assured him.

  Levi released me gently, and we began to hike out of the woods, his flashlight guiding the way. His consoling hug had been a brotherly one. The old feelings, the romantic ones, had been replaced with something new.

  He took the lamb from me, carrying her away from the woods toward the meadow. And as we walked, we talked of many things—my present school year…and his. How his brother Curly John and sister-in-law, Sarah, and their little Mary were doing. He also mentioned that his father had asked him again to consider “joining church.”

  “But you’re Mennonite,” I insisted.

  “Dat’s stubborn as the day is long. Wants all his children in the Amish church.”

  “I’m sure you can understand why.”