“Mm-m, sounds good,” I said, playing along with the younger girls, rubbing my stomach like Susie.
“Well, we better get going home,” Rachel said, and her team of sisters pushed and pulled her down the lane.
“Good-bye!” I called.
“Seven sharp,” Susie shouted back.
When I arrived at Mifflin Junior High Thursday, everyone carried on about the fire…and me. Even Jon hung around my locker longer than usual. I noticed Ashley Horton get tired of waiting for him and head off to first hour by herself.
At lunch, Chelsea practically hovered. “Let’s see what seconddegree burns look like,” she said. “Is it all blistery and yucky under there?”
Lissa frowned at her across the table. “Don’t be gross.” She pleaded with me not to take off the bandages.
“Don’t worry,” I said, glancing at the table where Elton usually sat. It seemed strange that I should notice. After all, I hadn’t known him that long. One week today.
Chelsea and Lissa chattered on and on about how they would’ve died if something horrible had happened to me.
“Did you see your life pass before you?” Lissa said softly. “That happens to people sometimes.”
Chelsea snickered. “You did that for a barn cat?”
I nodded, smiling. “You sound just like my brother.”
Lissa sighed. “All I can say is, God must’ve been watching out for you, Mer.”
I waited for Chelsea to freak out about Lissa mentioning God like that. She set her glass of soda down slowly, holding on to it, then looked at me. “Well, someone sure was.”
I rejoiced silently. It was a minor breakthrough for a selfdeclared atheist.
After school, I sat with Grandma Winnie in the visiting area of Maple Springs. Goose prickles popped out on my neck as I thought about Elton being stuck there.
“How’s Elton today?” I asked his grandma, next to me on the sofa.
“Oh, you know him,” she said, waving her hand. “Elton takes things in his stride. I guess you could say he lives his life in his head, so it’s hard to take much away from him.”
I breathed deeply before asking my next question. “Do you think Elton started the barn fire?”
“He’s mighty different, that boy, but setting a barn on fire, well, that’s another story.”
“So, then, you think he’s innocent.”
“Oh indeed, I do. But it looks as though our hands are tied,” she said, her voice drifting off as a counselor led Elton into the room.
Grunting, she pulled herself up off the sofa and shuffled over to Elton. “It’s so good to see you, honey-boy.” She wrapped her jolly arms around her grandson.
Elton was motionless. And by the blank look on his pale face, I could see he’d regressed quite a bit.
I clenched my teeth, coming to grips with reality. Isolating Elton here, away from the people who loved him, had been a big mistake.
I struggled with my good memories of him—those few times we’d spent in the willow grove and at the covered bridge. Elton had begun to grow, to change. And now…
I couldn’t bear to see him like this.
Grandma Winnie led him to a chair, and he nearly collapsed into it, weak and dejected. I swallowed hard to keep from crying. This special kid, the boy who’d saved my life, needed help.
Chapter
18
Elton’s grandma stroked his back. “Look who’s come to pay you a visit.”
I stood up and walked over to him, wishing there was some way I could communicate the important things—how I’d tried desperately to clear his name. I wanted him to know. But the timing didn’t seem quite right, especially with Elton’s grandma right there—and the counselor breathing down our necks.
“I brought you something.” I pulled the gift bag off so he could see the Bible.
He kept staring into space and rocking back and forth, his arms and hands bandaged and limp in his lap.
I thought my heart would break. This was not the same boy who’d sat in church with me, sharing my Bible. And the night he’d stood and clapped at our youth meeting—where was that Elton?
His grandma started to talk about the fire, but the counselor intervened. That subject was obviously off limits, and I could see why. Zooks’ fire had changed everything.
That night, after supper, Dad and I had a long talk in his study. He did his best to explain Elton’s problem to me. “Autism is a mental disorder that occurs in one out of every one hundred fifty live births,” he said. “It’s found more often in boys than girls.” He continued to describe some of the behaviors of autistic people. Elton had nearly all of them.
Everything seemed so complicated, but it was good to know Dad wanted to take time to explain. “There’s something else I want to say, Merry,” he continued.
“What, Dad?”
“This has to do with your views concerning Elton’s innocence.” He paused for a moment, scratching his head. “I want you to know I respect your opinion about your friend, and I hope the best for him.” He smiled.
“Oh, thank you!” I said, rushing into his arms. Things were so much better now. Finally, Dad was sounding less like the resident shrink, and more like my father.
With little fuss, my parents agreed to let me go to the Zooks’ barn raising. “As long as you get your homework assignments finished before tomorrow,” Mom said.
“And please be careful with your arms,” Dad said, glancing at the bandages still there.
So it was set. I was looking forward to a frolicking good time, as Susie Zook would say. Frolicking good had its limitations, of course. Tomorrow wouldn’t be half as much fun with Elton locked up.
Setting my alarm for six o’clock, I climbed into bed early, wishing and praying that Elton were free. And struggling with what to do to make it happen.
When the alarm sounded the next morning, I was in a deep sleep, dreaming that I was dragging my camera collection through a field. Things were hazy and I tried my best not to stop dreaming, but the alarm clock had done its work. The dream faded away.
Later, I stood in my closet trying to decide what to wear. That’s when I remembered my Polaroid camera. I’d loaned it to Elton. Had it burned in the fire? Frustrated about not knowing, I pulled on a lightweight shirt, careful not to disturb the new, clean bandages on my arms. There was really no way to ask Elton about anything these days.
It was full light when I hopped onto my bike and rode over to the Zooks’. I didn’t want to offend my Amish friends by carrying a camera in plain view, so I wrapped it in a paper bag, securing it in my bike basket.
The Old Order Amish didn’t allow photographs of themselves. The scriptures about not making any graven images were taken literally.
Abe and Levi were in the field welcoming friends and directing buggy traffic when I arrived. More and more horses and buggies pulled into the yard and parked, lining up all the way to the wagon wheel mailbox at the end of the private lane. Minutes later, a bus came bouncing down SummerHill, packed with Amishmen from Strasburg and surrounding areas. They were wearing their work clothes.
By seven sharp, everyone was present—about three hundred Amish folk. Even the Zook grandparents settled into their rocking chairs to sit and watch and visit with the others their age.
Rachel waved when she saw me. “Come on inside, Merry!” She hobbled around on a single homemade crutch.
I parked my bike near the back door and went into the kitchen. Rachel and her mother were arranging homemade pies and cakes baked by the women whose husbands would build the barn.
Soon the women began stewing chickens for the noon meal. Rachel and I helped fry potato chips with several other women until her mother caught our attention. “Rachel! Merry!” she called. “You girls go and get off your feet now for a while.” She shooed us out of the kitchen like flies. Then, turning to her Amish friends, she said, “Ach, that fire was such a terrible fright.”
Terrible was putting it mildly, and I thought of
Elton again as Nancy and Ella Mae showed up with their wagon for their big sister. I smoothed out the wrinkles in the quilt and helped Rachel get situated.
“Ask Mam if we can take some angel food cake and cookies with us,” Rachel told her sisters.
The girls scampered into the house, letting the screen door slap against the frame. I watched Susie play a game of chase with a friend in the backyard near the old pump. Aaron Zook was hauling tools with a wheelbarrow, helping his dad.
I could hear the joking going on among the men as they divided into groups to begin erecting the main timbers and frame. It would take sixteen strong men to lift one beam into place.
Nancy and Ella Mae came running with two large pieces of angel food cake and six peanut butter cookies. Nancy handed the plates wrapped with clear plastic to Rachel, who sat like a princess in the wagon.
“That’s a very good after-breakfast snack,” Rachel said. “Can you bring us some lemonade later on?”
Ella Mae smiled broadly, showing her missing front tooth. “Where are you two going now?”
Rachel looked up at me and I leaned down to pick up the wagon handle. “Merry, where do you want to sit and watch the barn go up?” she asked.
“How about the secret place—in the willow grove?” I suggested. “You girls can come later if you bring us some lemonade,” I teased Nancy and Ella Mae.
They giggled and chased each other barefooted as I pulled the wagon over the yard. I stopped to get my camera out of the bike basket before heading down Zooks’ bumpy lane to the main road.
“Don’t you go hurting your arms pulling me around,” Rachel said.
“It’s no problem.” I turned off SummerHill Lane and headed down the well-worn path to the thickest part of the willow grove.
Under the graceful covering of branches and leaves, I spread out the quilt from the wagon and helped Rachel sit down. “How’s that?”
“Look at this view we have,” she said as I sat beside her on the quilt. She was right—the view was perfect. We could see everything from here.
The men crawled over the beams like ants, working at a feverish pace while Rachel and I talked leisurely about the summer coming up. “My aunt Teri’s expecting twins this summer,” I said. “In June, I think.”
“Twins?” Rachel looked a little surprised. Maybe because she knew Faithie and I had been so close. “You’re going to have two new cousins at once.”
“That’s right,” I said. “They’ll be her first children.”
“Will she hafta teach the little ones how to sign?”
I hadn’t thought of that. “I guess so.” I reached for the plate with the angel food cake and gave a piece to Rachel. After that, we nibbled on our cookies, soaking up the sun. Feeling lazy and good.
By ten o’clock, it was time for the first break, and we could see all the activity from our vantage point. Women and girls scurried here and there serving sandwiches and doughnuts in baskets to their husbands and fathers. It was a holiday atmosphere, with plenty of laughter and lots of pranks.
After they served Abe and Levi, Nancy and Ella Mae came dashing across the pasture, climbing over the picket fence with tall glasses of cold lemonade splashing out as they came.
“Thanks,” I said, taking a sip of the cold drink.
“Anything else?” Nancy curtsied to us, pulling on her black apron, pretending to be our maid.
“No, thank you, not for me,” I said. “And you?” I turned to Rachel, playing along.
“I’ll have a sandwich, if you please,” she said, sounding like a regular English lady.
Ella Mae got the giggles and Nancy challenged her to a race to the picket fence.
I reached for the bag with my camera inside and set up a shot of the quilt and lemonade glasses. “Don’t worry, I won’t get you in the picture,” I promised.
Rachel smiled, trusting me. She leaned over to steady her glass. “That’s better.”
I stepped back several feet, away from the cozy retreat. Aiming at the quilt, I made the lemonade glasses the focal point.
Click. The picture was done, but something behind Rachel caught my eye. Something red and blue. Something plaid.
I hurried to investigate. When I knelt down, I discovered it was Elton’s backpack!
“What did ya find, Merry?” Rachel asked.
Almost reverently, I carried the small plaid backpack over to our quilt. “This belongs to the boy who saved my life,” I said softly.
The zipper was open, so I peeked inside. “Oh, look at this.” I pulled out my Polaroid camera. “It wasn’t burned up after all.” A truly happy feeling swept over me.
Rachel peered over my shoulder as I felt around inside the backpack. “What else?”
“Oh, just some pictures he took for an art project,” I said, pulling out the developed shots he’d taken.
We looked at Elton’s pictures together, and Rachel seemed to enjoy them. “There’s our old barn,” she said, pointing to the silo.
I looked at the next one. It was the same barn. Same silo. Cows grazing peacefully. Martins flying overhead. A car parked in front of the house…
“Wait a minute!” I showed Rachel this one. “Look at that!”
Rachel gasped. “Ach, no! That’s Ben Fisher’s car. What is it doing out in front of our house?”
Quickly, I looked at the next picture.“Who’s that walking toward the barn?” My heart was pounding so hard I couldn’t see straight.
“Oh, Merry,” Rachel said, holding her chest. “It’s Ben!” She stared at the picture, squinting. “Himmel,” she whispered. “That’s a gasoline can.”
Our eyes locked.
“Ben Fisher did burn down our barn!” she said.
Trembling with relief, I placed my Polaroid camera and Elton’s pictures inside the blue-and-red backpack. I’d found proof. The proof Officer Vyner needed to clear my friend!
Rachel assured me she’d be okay there in the secret place until I got back. She grinned at me, clapping her hands as I carefully threaded first one bandaged arm, then the next, through the camera strap and Elton’s backpack. The scene was something out of my early morning dream.
“Thank you, Lord!” I shouted through the willows. I ran like the wind down the narrow dirt path toward SummerHill Lane. “Thank yo-o-u!”
Chapter
19
Elton didn’t nod or shake his head or anything when I asked him later that evening to go to Spring Spree with me.
“It’s tomorrow at the church, in case you forgot.”
He stared straight ahead.
“I’m paying. It’s the least I can do.”
His eyes blinked.
Grandma Winnie came out on the porch of their home and sat down, smiling. “Elton’s been mighty excited about your gift.” She leaned next to him, adjusting his head bandage.
“Really? How do you know?” I asked.
She picked up his pen and handed it to her grandson. “He’s wanted to ‘talk’ about Bible stories since yesterday.”
“That’s good,” I said. “What’s he saying?”
“Just watch,” she said as Elton’s pen began flying over the sketch pad. A drawing of Adam and Eve began to take shape. They were situated in a beautiful garden. A garden with dense trees, some shaped like willows. And there was something else. I watched curiously as he sketched.
Then I saw it. Way in the very back of the garden. “It’s a covered bridge!”
Elton’s face remained unchanged, but the windows of his soul were shining.
“You’ve got a great sense of humor,” I said, looking right at him. “Maybe you could team up with Anthony, the artist from Vermont.”
Suddenly, Elton reached over and began thumping on his Bible. I was sure it was his way of saying thank you. Maybe much more.
All the pieces didn’t quite fit yet, but I knew the encounter in the hallway at school hadn’t been an accident after all. Besides that, there was a photo that had yet to be printed. One featuring
a very special person.
Ben Fisher was tracked down somewhere in Ohio and brought back, though the Zooks refused to press charges against him. Last I heard, Levi had been going to visit Ben nearly every day. Like I said, Levi was a loyal, true friend.
And Ben repented, escaping the shunning. Thank goodness!
Lissa talked her mother into letting her go to Spring Spree with my brother, saying it was only a one-time thing. In fact, Lissa and Skip and Elton and I doubled up in Skip’s car for the evening. I must admit it wasn’t easy pulling Elton into the conversation, but, oh well…sometimes silence is golden.
Jon Klein and Ashley Horton experienced a somewhat golden evening, as well. In fact, every time I happened to glance over at their table, they were silent.
At the end of the banquet, Elton and I posed for pictures, showing off our matching white bandages. Well, Elton didn’t ham it up that much, but at least he got his nodding ritual going again.
I can’t decide exactly where his picture—the people picture—will fit on my wall gallery just yet. But it’s going up there—no matter what!
Who knows, I might start a new gallery, one featuring windows of the soul. I think it’s about time.
To Dave,
with thanks for the simple gifts—
long walks and quiet talks…
and stargazing.
‘Tis the gift to be simple.
‘Tis the gift to be free.
—OLD AMERICAN HYMN
Chapter
1
I probably would have ignored Lissa Vyner the rest of the school year and all summer, too, for doing what she did. In fact, I was one-hundred-percent-amen sure if Lissa hadn’t been my friend I would have refused to have anything whatsoever to do with her.
Outrageous. That’s what it was. How dare she ask Jonathan Klein to be her project partner! But she had. And I could still see her waiting outside social studies, all pert and confident with her wavy blond hair pulled back, her blue eyes shining.
SummerHill Secrets, Volume 1 Page 18
