“Well, here’s my house. I’ll see you tomorrow at one-thirty.” I crawled over her to get to the aisle.
“See ya,” Chelsea called.
I held on to the seat, waiting for the bus to stop. Even though I had to walk past Jon and Lissa, I didn’t let their “Bye, Merry, have a great weekend” comments get to me.
Waiting for the bus doors to open, I realized something amazing. This research project was just what I needed to get my mind off less important things—present parties included! Talking about my ancestors had done the trick.
I hurried down out of the bus and ran up SummerHill to our sloping front lawn, around the side yard to the white gazebo, and collapsed on the steps.
My cats, Shadrach and his brother Meshach, followed by my beautiful white kitten, Lily White, made their appearance from under the gazebo, looking plump and sleepy.
“Where’s Abednego?” I inspected the dark, cool area beneath the gazebo.
My cats were not only beautiful, they were extremely intelligent. Their choice of a cool and carefree place to snooze was just one more indication of that.
I called for Abednego, who was always the last one to show up. Slowly, grandly, he emerged into the sunlight, squinting his eyes as he made his debut.
“Take your time, why don’tcha?” I teased him. But he wasn’t moved by my words and came nuzzling up against my leg. “You think that’s all it takes for an apology, huh?” I scooped him up and carried him to the house in my schoolbag.
Lily White scampered ahead of me, meowing for equal time. She and I didn’t go back as far as the three Hebrew cat children, but beautiful Lily was extraspecial. I had saved her life in Zooks’ barn fire last month—risking mine to do it.
“Come on, little boys,” I called over my shoulder. They did as they were told, obeying their mistress Merry to a tee. I choked down the thought of referring to myself that way—it only reminded me of my jovial Jon, who was probably still sitting next to the light and lovely Lissa.
“Mom, I’m home!”
The kitchen smelled like rhubarb pie mingled with the aroma of roast beef. Clean and free of clutter, the kitchen sparkled as though the cleaning lady had just been here. But it was Friday, and Mrs. Gibson came on Tuesdays.
Something was up.
I dumped my schoolbag on a chair. Carefully, I lifted Abednego out of his hiding place and carried him to the counter. “Check this out,” I said as we sniffed two big pies cooling near the window.
Mom came sailing through the room. “How was school, honey?” She kissed the air near my cheek, then scurried off to the dining room.
Lily White let out an irritated, whiny meow. Even though she loved me, she was still adjusting to the rest of the Hanson family.
“School? Oh, it was there.” I couldn’t tell Mom how school had really been. It involved talking about Jon, and no one needed to know that secret part of my life. “We’re doing a cool assignment in social studies,” I mentioned, opening the fridge.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, it’s a good way to close out the school year.” I poured some milk and crept into the spacious formal dining room to observe Mom—busy as usual.
“Why’s that, honey?” She glanced up momentarily as though she was interested in a reply, but I could tell her mind was on other things. Like polishing silverware and wiping off her good china.
“Someone coming for dinner?” I asked.
She smiled, completely forgetting about my social studies project. “Some of your father’s relatives are in town. They’re staying at a bed and breakfast in Strasburg but called to see if they could take us out to eat.” She sighed, counting the salad forks. “I thought it would be just as well to invite them here. You know how your father likes to unwind after a long day at the hospital.”
I smiled to myself. Mom sometimes liked to use Dad as an excuse to do things her way. Sure Dad would be tired from making rounds and treating patients, but it was really Mom who preferred to dine at home. Besides, this would be another opportunity for her to be the perfect hostess.
I wandered back into the kitchen, pouring fresh milk for the cat quartet. Eagerly, they crowded around the wide, flat dish, their pink tongues lapping up the raw milk straight from moo to you from the Zooks’ dairy farm next door.
“Oh, Merry,” Mom called from the dining room as though she’d forgotten something. “Someone else called—for you.”
I hurried through the kitchen again. “Who? Someone from school?”
She straightened up, holding a fistful of spoons. “You know, it almost sounded like Levi Zook,” she said, a curious look in her deep brown eyes. “There was background noise, though, like he was calling from town.”
I frowned. “Didn’t he say who he was?”
She shook her head. “I asked if he’d like to leave a message, but he seemed to be in a hurry.”
“That’s weird.” If it was Levi, I wondered what he was up to.
I asked for more details. “What kind of background noise did you hear?”
“Come to think of it, he may have been down at the Yoders’—they have that new carpentry shop over in Leola.” She carried the silverware into the kitchen.
I followed.
“But the Yoders are Amish, too,” I reminded her. “They don’t have a phone, do they?”
“Well, maybe they do,” she said, searching for some silver polish under the sink. “More and more Amish are having phones installed in their businesses, but the way I understand it, they aren’t allowed to use them for personal calls.”
“So you really think it was Levi?”
“Almost positive.”
“Hmm…okay, Mom. Thanks.” Hurrying out of the kitchen, I headed down the long hall to the front staircase, carrying my book bag and a second glass of milk, this one spiked with a touch of chocolate syrup.
What does Levi want? I wondered.
Inside my room, I emptied my schoolbag, taking time to organize my books and notebooks on my massive white antique pine desk. Mom had found it at an estate auction years ago in disrepair. After stripping and repainting it white to match my corner bookcase, the old piece added charm to my room like nothing else. Except for my wall gallery, of course, on the opposite side of the room.
I’d framed and displayed my best photography there, starting with pictures taken in first grade with my little camera. Cheap as the camera had been, the colors had turned out clear and bright.
Thoughts of Levi and Jon twirled in my head as I surveyed the entire wall. Recounting the pictures of my life was a kind of ritual. I drank in the tranquil scenes of Amish farmhouses, the willow grove, and a covered bridge not far from here. There were before-and-after pictures, too. Like the one of a fresh apple pie made by Miss Spindler, another neighbor, before and after it had been sliced into six pieces.
Last month I’d had a change of heart and decided to include pictures of people in my wall gallery. The decision was triggered by an incredible event that happened right after the Zooks’ barn fire. Anyway, I now had enlargements of my favorite people displayed on the wall. People like Mom, Dad, and Skip posing in front of our ivy-strewn gazebo, Lissa and Chelsea hamming it up on the school bus.
But the best picture of all was one I’d taken as a little girl. It featured Faithie, my twin, before she got sick and went home to Jesus.
Mom had helped frame some of the pictures with bonafide antique frames, but she couldn’t stand to have old relics around unless they were immaculate.
I wondered as I looked at Faithie’s picture if my twin might have inherited Mom’s interest in antique treasures had she lived past her seventh birthday. One thing was certain, Mom had not passed on her obsession with old things to me. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate them. I guess it had more to do with growing up with so many Amish neighbors—not to mention the ones way back in my family tree—and wanting to be my own person. A very modern girl.
I changed into white shorts and a red top, with red shoes to mat
ch. Then I headed into the bathroom adjoining my room and washed my face, careful not to smudge my mascara. A quick look in the mirror, and I grabbed a hairbrush. When my hair was smooth, I stepped back to scrutinize myself.
“Ready or not, here I come,” I said out loud, eager to get over to the Amish farm next door.
It was time to set my friend Levi Zook straight. Once and for all.
Chapter
4
Mom was still busying herself with preparations for the evening meal when I darted through the kitchen. “Merry,” she called just as I reached the screen door.
“Yes?” I turned around.
“Come tell me what you think,” she said from the dining room.
“I need your expert opinion.”
In a hurry to see Levi, I rushed back through the kitchen and found my mom holding a matching set of white candle holders.
“Which looks better?” She held them up dramatically, eyeing the floral centerpiece—pink and white roses scattered with babies’ breath and greenery. “Do you like the table with or without the candles?”
I waited as she placed the candle holders on the table, one on either side of the white basket of flowers. “Without,” I said. “Too formal with candles.”
She stepped back, concentrating on the table. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure, Mom. Why’d you ask me if—”
“Merry,” she said, glancing at me. “You don’t have to get upset about this.”
“I’m not upset,” I insisted. The phone rang, and I ran into the kitchen. “Hanson residence, Merry speaking.”
“Merry, hi!” It was Lissa.
“Hi.” I sounded completely unenthusiastic.
“Are you busy?” There was that certain edge to her voice as if she was dying to tell me something, yet waiting politely for me to respond.
“Not really,” I said, raising the pitch of my voice to ward off more questions. “What’s up?”
“You’ll never guess!”
I braced myself. “Guess what ?”
“Oh, Merry, this is just too good to be true.”
“What is?” My throat was already dry. I wished I hadn’t asked.
“C’mon, Mer, you have to guess.”
“Look, I don’t feel like playing a guessing game right now, so either you tell me or you don’t.” I inched around the refrigerator, checking to see if Mom seemed interested in my end of the conversation.
Good! She was squatting down in front of the buffet, reaching for some serving dishes.
“Merry,” Lissa said, sounding hurt. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“You sound mad or something.”
“Well…I’m not.” I took a deep breath. “So, what were you saying?”
“It’s about Jon Klein…and me.”
My heart started beating ninety miles an hour. “Jon?” I managed to squeak out.
“And me,” she said. “We’re going to the ninth-grade picnic together—you know…at church.”
I switched the phone to my left ear, hoping maybe I hadn’t heard correctly. “I…oh, that’s nice.”
“You’ll never guess how he asked me,” she continued.
I knew I’d probably seem like a real jerk if she kept talking and waiting for upbeat responses from me, but the truth was I wasn’t happy for her. How could I be?
“Merry? You still there?”
“I’ve really gotta get going,” I said.
“Okay, then,” she said, almost giggling, “I’ll talk to you later. ’Bye.”
I didn’t say good-bye. Just hung up the phone and stood there staring at it, refusing to cry.
“There we are,” Mom said from the dining room as though I’d never even left to answer the phone. “Now for the roast and all the fixings.”
She didn’t even seem to notice the state I was in as she flounced through the kitchen, pulled out a drawer, and found a fancy apron to wear.
“I’m going for a walk,” I said, attempting to make my voice sound normal. It cracked a little.
“Merry?” Mom turned to look at me. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s been a long week,” I said, turning to leave.
Long wasn’t the only thing the week—the day—had been. Long and lousy, both!
I thought of the Alliteration Wizard with a lump in my throat. Had Jon introduced Lissa to our word game? My heart sank at the thought. I hoped not. But then again, if he’d asked her out, maybe…
The sun beat down on me as I jogged the sloping stretch of road between our front lawn and SummerHill Lane, where the school bus always stopped. About a block away from my house, a dirt path led away from the road to a shortcut through the willow grove, to the Zook farm.
I kept running, feeling the anger rise in me.
Lissa and Jon. He’d asked her…not me.
My throat ached; the tears came. I ran harder, my red shoes pounding the ground. The path cut into the thick wild grass on either side as it headed into the dense, hidden part of the grove.
Faster and faster I ran. The distance from here to there seemed desperately long, not like it usually was when I came to visit Rachel. We would talk about the day, maybe have a slice of warm bread and her wonderful grape jelly. Sometimes she would show me a new pillow or doily she had made for her hope chest.
I made my legs move through the willow grove and down the pasture to the white picket fence. Through my tears, I could see Levi in the potato field, still working the mules. Levi—my childhood friend. Dear, fun-loving Levi.
I stopped crying. Catching my breath, I wiped my face on the tail of my red shirt and decided to stop in to see Rachel. This way, Levi would never have to know I’d been crying when I headed out to the field later.
“Wilkom, Merry.” Rachel stepped out of the back door just as I came up the walk.
“Hi,” I said. “I guess it’s time for milking, right?”
“Jah.” She wiped her hands on the long black apron covering her brown work dress. “Come help if you want.”
Milking cows was one of my least favorite chores, especially the way Rachel and her family did it. Wiping down the cows’ udders was the worst of it.
“I think I’ll pass,” I said. “Maybe I’ll just take a walk and wait for you.”
Rachel shielded her eyes with her hand as she looked at me. “Merry, is everything all right with you?”
“Don’t mind me.” I wondered if there were tearstains on my face. “Just thought I’d stop by and say hi.”
She laughed. “Well, hi, then.”
Abe Zook—her father—and Rachel’s younger sisters, Nancy, Ella Mae, and little Susie, showed up outside the barn as if on cue. The whole family, except Levi and Mrs. Zook, was going to milk today.
“Guess you’d better get going,” I told her. “I’ll see you later.”
“Sure you can’t stay and help?” It was as if Rachel viewed the milking experience as something quite special.
“I’m sure, but thanks.”
Rachel smiled her wide, energetic smile and scampered off barefoot to the barn.
Still wondering about my face, I hurried to the well pump a few feet away. I gave it a few good cranks and icy cold water poured out. The tin bucket caught the spillage, and I hurried over to dip my hand into the water, washing my face, especially my cheeks.
Now I was set.
I walked, ambling past the expanse of yard behind the old Zook farmhouse and the smaller addition built onto it called the Grossdawdy Haus, where Rachel’s grandparents lived. On my far left was the long, earthen ramp that led up to the second story of the new “bank barn.” The hayloft was up there, and for an instant I was tempted to go and throw myself into the warm, sweet hay. But I kept going.
In spite of my day—in spite of Lissa’s news—I had some truly good friends right here on SummerHill Lane. Rachel, a dear friend, full of cheer and always helpful. She’d even made a patchwork pillow for my hope chest. I guess she thought eve
ry girl had one.
And there was Levi, handsome and full of fun. As I walked through the potato field toward him, he pulled on the reins, bringing the mule team to a halt. With a wide grin he tipped his straw hat, and I almost forgot why I’d come.
“Merry!” he called from his perch. “It’s good to see ya.”
Maybe it was the way he stood there tall and confident with the dust and dirt of the day caked on his dark trousers and work shoes. Maybe it was the way his blue eyes twinkled when he smiled. I wasn’t exactly sure why, but as I stood between the rows of potatoes, I didn’t see the sense in setting Levi straight about the phone call. About anything.
Chapter
5
“Did you call me today?”
Levi halted the mules. “I wondered if you’d like to go to the Green Dragon with me tomorrow.”
“The Green Dragon?”
“They have soft pretzels and cotton candy.” He paused. “It’s like a carnival and—”
“I know what the Green Dragon is, Levi. But I’m not Amish, remember?”
His face clouded for a moment. “Well, I wish ya were Amish, Merry,” he said hesitantly. “It would make things easier.”
“Not for me,” I insisted, laughing. “I don’t have to wash down the cows’ you-know-whats before I can pour milk on my cereal.”
The smile returned to his tan face. “That’s not what I mean.”
I wasn’t going to ask what he did mean. After all, I wasn’t completely ignorant—I’d seen this moment coming for a while now. “How are you getting to the Green Dragon?” I suspected he wasn’t taking his buggy.
He glanced from side to side as though he was going to share something top secret. Then he pulled his wallet out. “I just got a driver’s license,” he said, showing me.
“Levi, why?”
“Two of my cousins own a car,” he whispered, quickly putting the card away. “We’re in the same crowd together. We’re called the Mule Skinners.” He said it with pride.
I’d heard about the rambunctious Amish group. “Aren’t they a little wild?”
He chuckled, carefree and easy. “Barn dancin’ never hurt anyone.”
SummerHill Secrets, Volume 1 Page 20
