SummerHill Secrets, Volume 1

by Beverly Lewis

  “I hope your hands are clean,” I reprimanded her.

  “Ya didn’t want her hollerin’, didja?” Rachel was right. A baby wailing in the backyard was sure to draw unwelcome attention.

  I opened the bottle of premixed formula and poured it into the clean bottle, still warm from washing. A flick of the wrist, and the nipple was in place. “There we are,” I said, reaching for Charity.

  Rachel backed away, holding Charity close. “Aw, let me feed her.”

  Resentment gripped me. “But she’s…”

  “She’s not yours, any more than I’m yours.” Rachel was grinning. “C’mon, just this once?”

  I relinquished the bottle and sat down on the floor, close enough to stroke Charity’s silky-soft arm. “We’ve gotta figure out a way to hide her.”

  “Ach, so now it’s we?”

  “You want to help, right?” I said, noticing how cuddly and contented Charity looked in my friend’s arms.

  “First, tell me where she came from.”

  It was only fair to let Rachel in on my secret. Since she was going to be involved, she deserved to know something. “Okay, you win.” And I told her enough to satisfy her curiosity.

  A bewildered look crossed her face. “Did the truck happen to be noisy?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  Rachel looked down at the baby in her arms. “ ’Cause I heard it goin’ up and down SummerHill all last week.”

  “That’s weird. Come to think of it, the guy in the truck wanted to know where there was a doctor,” I said, remembering.

  “How come, do ya think?”

  “It’s hard to say. Unless…”

  “What?”

  “Unless he’s heard that some doctors arrange adoptions for infertile couples.”

  Rachel’s eyes grew sad. “Jah.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “That would be a terrible heartache, infertility—especially for Amish wives. Most families in our church district have at least eight children.” She sighed. “My second cousin in Ohio could never have babies, though.”

  “That’s too bad,” I said. “But your sister-in-law, Sarah, is expecting one this fall, right?”

  Rachel brightened. “Jah, come November.”

  “Won’t that be great?” I said. “You’ll get to baby-sit your own nephew or niece.”

  Suddenly, I felt the time pressure, but we talked softly for a few more minutes. I knew I needed to cut this short and go inside to have breakfast with Dad. Otherwise, Mom would suspect something for sure. “Can you hold Charity till I get back?” I asked.

  “Where’re ya goin’ now ?”

  I explained about Mom making eggs and waffles and how I’d sneaked out while she was on the phone. “So will you stay here in the gazebo awhile?”

  She shook her head. “I really hafta get back home.”

  “Rachel! You can’t leave yet!”

  She stood up, still holding the baby. “I’m sorry, Merry, but I can’t stay.”

  Once again, I felt trapped. “Well, what can I do?” I said, glancing at the house. “Charity can’t be left out here alone, and if I don’t go in now—”

  “I could take Charity with me,” Rachel interrupted.

  “With you?” I repeated. “That’ll never work. How can I keep Charity a secret if you’re gonna go show her off at your house?”

  “It wouldn’t hafta be that way.”

  “Really? Well, you better talk fast.” I listened as she explained.

  “I’ll keep her wrapped up so no one’ll see inside the basket. She can sleep upstairs in my room for a bit.”

  Her plan wasn’t even remotely close to the way I wanted to handle things, but it seemed to be the only option. “As soon as I can, I’ll come over and get her,” I said, not knowing what I’d do once I got her home again. “Just please don’t tell anyone what I’ve told you.”

  Rachel nodded and turned to put Charity in the wicker basket. “I think she needs another change,” she said, holding her nose.

  “Oh, good idea. You do it,” I said, digging around in the bottom of the basket for the note. When I found it, Rachel’s eyes bugged out.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “I’ll show you later.” I tucked the note into my shorts pocket. “Thanks for helping, Rachel,” I said. “You’re a lifesaver.”

  She kept pinching her nose and made a face. Quickly, I left to go to the house.

  “What are your plans today?” Dad asked as I spread soft butter on my waffles.

  “Oh, I’ll probably hang out with Rachel for a while. Maybe clean my room.”

  Mom sat down for the prayer, and when Dad finished the blessing, she looked up at me suddenly. “Miss Spindler called a little while ago.”

  “Oh?” My voice squeaked. “Why so early?”

  “She wondered what you were doing out in the gazebo with Rachel Zook,” Mom said, chuckling. “If she doesn’t take the cake!”

  “Old Hawk Eyes is up to her old tricks,” I said, passing it off in jest. “She lives to spy on people.”

  Dad glanced at me. The gray hairs around his temples crinkled as he grinned. “Wouldn’t it be fun to investigate the old lady—I mean, literally invite ourselves into her house and search it? She must have some high-powered telescope stashed somewhere.”

  “I think Dad’s right.” I wanted to pay Old Hawk Eyes a visit in the worst way. What had she seen? I reached for some milk, my throat horribly dry.

  “Merry,” Mom scolded, “don’t wash your food down.”

  “Sorry,” I sputtered, hoping Mom wasn’t as curious about my early morning whereabouts as our nosy neighbor.

  Dad stirred his herbal tea. “Don’t you have a pie or something to take over to Ruby Spindler?” he asked Mom, then winked at me.

  “I…uh, don’t think I have time to probe into Miss Spindler’s spying techniques today.” I hoped I wasn’t reacting too nervously. The last thing I wanted was to stir up suspicion in my parents. A baby’s life and future were at stake, and I needed to handle things delicately. I wanted to get Mom and Dad to see their need for another child. And my need for a new sister. Namely, Charity.

  Fortunately, the subject of Miss Spindler and her phone call was dropped. Dad kissed Mom’s cheek as he excused himself and headed to his study down the hall. Mom hopped up and began clearing the table. “Why don’t you run along,” she said. “I know you’d probably like to visit with Rachel some more. She might be going to a quilting bee or something. If you don’t hurry, you won’t catch her.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said, giving her a squeeze. She’d played right into my hands. And I was truly grateful!

  I ran upstairs and showered and shampooed my hair. It felt good to clean up after having spent the night outside. All the while, I thought of baby Charity. She needed a bath, too, I was certain. And what fun it would be. But where? Where could I take care of her the way I wanted to?

  Sweet thoughts of having a baby in the house—in this house—made me speed up my morning routine. I brushed my damp hair and pulled it back in a single flat barrette. Opting to skip putting on makeup, I gathered up my dirty T-shirt and shorts. Noticing the full hamper, I smashed them in before I left.

  The kitchen was spotless as I breezed through. Mom had already gone upstairs to dress for the day, and Dad was still talking on the phone in his study. I pranced out the back screen door and ran. Already, I missed my baby sister!

  I took the shortcut through the willows, praying all the way. If I handled things correctly, Charity could grow up on SummerHill Lane and be my adopted baby sister. God had sent her here—now it was up to me to make the situation work.

  Six gray buggies were parked in the side yard at the Zooks’. Concern gripped me as I ran to the back door.

  “Merry, wilkom!” called Esther Zook through the screen. “Come on in.”

  I pushed open the door, and Esther came in her gray skirt and apron to greet me. But what I saw disturbed me
so much I nearly cried. There, in the center of the long, wooden kitchen table, a familiar wicker basket was on display—with Charity the center of attention!

  Inwardly, I groaned. What had Rachel done?

  My friend caught my eye, appearing rather distraught. She shrugged her shoulders, and I knew something had gone terribly wrong.

  I made my way across the enormous kitchen. At least ten Amishwomen sat around gazing at Charity, talking excitedly in their Pennsylvania Dutch dialect.

  “What’s going on?” I whispered to Rachel.

  She guided me into the dining room. We stood in the corner near a hand-carved cabinet displaying brightly colored china pieces. “Ach, Merry, I would’ve stopped this from happening if I could’ve.”

  “Exactly what happened?”

  “Well, it’s like this. I took the babe up to my room as ya said to”—her eyes were filled with regret—“but when I left her there to go and help Mam, she started crying. Mam heard Charity hollerin’ and came running. The women were already comin’ for the quiltin’ and, well…that’s the way it was.”

  “Now what can we do?” I pleaded.

  “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell them she was abandoned,” Rachel said. “I knew that would be the wrong thing to say. I said she was visiting you.”

  I agreed. “Good thinking. But we’ve got to get her out of here before someone starts asking personal questions.”

  “Above all, Merry, we mustn’t lie,” Rachel said, looking even more serious. “T’would not be pleasin’ to the Lord.”

  “You’re right. We have to trust God,” I said. “He started all this.” Given the circumstances surrounding Charity’s arrival, it felt strange appearing to blame it on the Lord. As soon as the words flew out of my mouth, I was sorry for how they sounded.

  “I can’t go back with ya,” Rachel said. “Mam needs me here to help stew chickens for dinner.”

  “That’s fine. Thanks.” I gave her a hug. “You did your best, Rachel. Just pray, okay?”

  She nodded. “There might be a bit of a problem, though, if Mam finds out about the baby.”

  “What do you mean?” I felt my heart pound.

  “Mam’s wantin’ another little one. She loves babies, ya see. And she’s reached her life change—she can’t have more children.”

  My hopes plunged to the depths. “I knew something like this might happen.”

  Rachel held my hand. “Don’t let envy rob your peace. Remember the scriptures about coveting. You hafta have a clear head to think, Cousin Merry.” She liked to call me cousin. We had a common ancestor several generations back that made us bonafide distant relatives.

  I sighed, growing more frustrated by the second. Rachel was right about the envy. Only she was forgetting one important piece of information: Charity was not up for grabs. She was mine!

  With my heart in my throat, I followed Rachel back into the kitchen. The Amishwomen were closing in on poor little Charity. One of them reached over and snatched her out of the basket.

  Instantly, I remembered the note—the one that had been pinned to Charity’s blanket. My head felt dizzy, and I groped for a chair. Oh no, I thought. The note was in the pocket of my shorts—in my hamper. And at this moment, Mom was probably sorting the laundry. Discovering my secret!

  Tears came to my eyes. I didn’t mean to, but I stared at the Amishwomen talking in a language Charity had never heard. Esther Zook was leaning over their shoulders, touching Charity’s face, her hands. What Rachel had said seemed true enough. Her mother would want Charity for her own if she knew the baby girl had been abandoned.

  For the third time today, I felt trapped. This time, with absolutely no way out!

  Chapter

  8

  “Ach! What a perty little thing,” Rachel’s mom was saying. “Whose didja say the baby was?” She was looking at me now.

  I was tongue-tied. If I told the truth, I might lose Charity. If I lied, I’d lose Rachel’s friendship. She was a stickler for honesty.

  The whole group of Plain women was looking my way, waiting for my answer. I took a deep breath and…

  Rachel spoke up. “Merry’s needin’ to get the baby back home now.” She went over and took Charity from the plump Amishwoman and snuggled her back into the basket.

  “I don’t think she’ll need the blankets today,” Esther advised. “The sun’s awful hot.”

  I went over and helped Rachel get Charity settled in. “Denki for lettin’ me show the baby off,” she said to me.

  “Thank you,” I said, and I was sure she knew what I meant by it.

  “I’ll walk ya to the end of the lane.” Rachel held the back kitchen door for me. With a sigh of relief, I escaped down the steps to the sidewalk, carrying Charity.

  “Too close for comfort,” I muttered.

  “You can say that again!” We walked to the end of the sidewalk. Then Rachel touched my arm. “Look who’s comin’.”

  I glanced in the direction of the ramp leading up to the second story of their barn. Levi was heading in our direction. “Merry, s’nice to see ya again,” he called.

  I glanced at Rachel, wondering what do about Charity. She was already getting fussy being outside in the heat. And what on earth would I tell Levi about her?

  “Looks like you’ve been working hard,” I said as Levi approached.

  He leaned down and brushed off his jeans. He’d stopped wearing the typical Old Order Amish clothes since his announcement to his family last month about wanting to attend a Bible school. “Well, what do we have here?” He gazed into the wicker basket, obviously interested.

  “Uh…this is baby Charity,” I said, giving Rachel a look that meant help!

  “Charity?” He smiled that winning smile I’d known all these years. “That’s a right good name. Means love, ya know.”

  I hoped he wouldn’t start mentioning his “love” for me in front of his younger sister. Rachel had no idea about Levi’s serious words to me one night weeks ago.

  “Well, I better get the baby out of this sun.” I turned to go.

  Levi, however, didn’t let me off the hook so easily. “We need to have a talk sometime ’fore too long,” he said, following Rachel and me as we headed for the Zooks’ dirt lane.

  I knew what he was getting at. He’d be wanting some kind of understanding between us before he left for school, but I wasn’t exactly ready to settle down. I wasn’t quite sixteen. Even though Amish girls began the courting process at that age, I wasn’t even close to being ready for such things.

  “When can I call on ya, Merry?” he persisted.

  “We still have plenty of time.” I smiled.

  That seemed to satisfy him, and he quit following us and turned and hurried back to the barn.

  “Levi’s bent on makin’ you his wife,” Rachel blurted as we headed for the road.

  I gasped. “How do you know?”

  “I can see it in his eyes,” she said. “And the way he talks about ya. He loves ya, Cousin Merry. Honest, he does.”

  Levi had declared his love last month—in the gazebo, of all places. But I hadn’t made any long-term commitment, even though I had to admit I liked him.

  “There’s a lot of deciding to do, I guess.” I looked down at Charity. “But between this little gift from God and your brother’s persistence, things have become mighty chaotic!”

  Rachel laughed heartily. “Well, then, why don’tcha tell your mother about the baby right away?”

  “Because I need time to prepare her—get her thinking about adopting a baby. Any baby. Then, when I reveal Charity, she’ll be ready. Dad too. It’s the only way it’ll work,” I said, worried that the note from Charity’s mother had already been discovered in the hamper.

  “Seems to me you’ve figured it all out,” Rachel said.

  “Not really,” I admitted. “It’s just that I know how my parents react to things. If I were to go home with a baby…well, first off, Dad would contact the Social Services or the police.”
/>
  “Police?” She frowned. “What for?”

  “To report a missing person or possibly a kidnapping. They would jump to conclusions.” In my heart, I hoped baby Charity wasn’t either of those.

  “Oh, Merry, think of it!” Rachel grabbed my arm, making the basket sway. “What if Charity was kidnapped like you said? What about that?”

  Guess now was as good a time as any to fill her in on the note. “There was a note left with Charity. Pinned to her blanket.”

  Rachel tugged on her prayer Kapp. “You mean to tell me someone deliberately left this baby at your house?”

  I shrugged. “Looks like it. I mean, when you put all the pieces together it kinda fits—the noisy pickup checking out the neighborhood all last week, like you said. And then the way the driver insisted on the girl getting out—telling her she had no choice. Oh, and when he pulled up at my house yesterday afternoon, he asked if there was a doctor around!”

  “You talked to him? Merry, you never said anything about that.”

  I described everything quickly—how a man in his early twenties had stopped by to ask questions while I was taking pictures of Lissa.

  “You’re right,” she said after hearing it all. “It sounds like an abandonment. Why don’tcha tell your parents? I don’t see why they’d hafta get the police to come.”

  I sighed and we kept walking. When we came close to my front yard, I covered Charity with a lightweight blanket, hiding her from view. Just in case. “Run ahead and see if anyone’s around back,” I told Rachel.

  “Jah, just real quick. Then I hafta go back home and help with the quilting.”

  I waited in the bushes for Rachel to signal.

  Seconds passed. What was she doing? Had she encountered someone?

  Thoughts of the note being discovered haunted me. I wished Rachel would hurry.

  At last, she came—running. Out of breath. “Hurry! All’s clear.”

  “What? You mean it wasn’t before?”

  “Your mom—she was out hanging up the wash.”

  “You’re kidding? She never does that. We have a dryer, for pete’s sake!”

  Rachel’s eyes grew round as saucers. “Ya don’t think she’s waitin’ for us—suspects somethin’, do ya?”