The look on my mother’s face spelled apprehension. Sure as anything, she must’ve thought I’d lost it.
There was only one thing left to do: I would simply have to make myself remember everything I could about Jonathan Klein and his wacky word game.
Chapter
14
It was dark by five-fifteen on Christmas Day evening. Mom went around lighting all the candles on the main level of the house. The fireplace mantel was aglow with soft, golden light.
After insisting that I bundle up in an afghan and my furriest slippers, Mom was finally satisfied that I was cozy and warm enough to be abandoned briefly while she went to make a simple supper.
I thought about Chelsea. Poor girl. Alone this Christmas season without her mom. She’d promised to call and fill me in on the first visit to the rehabilitation center.
But when my friend hadn’t called by the time we finished eating the main course, which was mostly leftovers from noon, I began to fret. “It’s not like Chelsea,” I said as Dad and Skip cleared the table. “She said she’d let me know how things went with her mom last night.”
Dad stood behind his chair, pausing to reflect. “Well, I certainly hope there was a counselor on hand when Chelsea and her father visited. The initial face-to-face encounter is often upsetting…for all concerned.”
I thought for a moment. “Well, I hope everything went okay.” Then I remembered the Christmas gift Chelsea had planned to give her mother. “Do you think the pictures I took might’ve upset Mrs. Davis?”
Dad pulled out his chair and sat down. “You wouldn’t think such a thing would be troubling, but in brainwashing cases—especially those involving a cult—it’s often difficult to say what may trigger emotional problems.”
Now I was really worried and decided I couldn’t wait any longer to talk to Chelsea. As soon as dessert was finished, I’d give her a call.
Mom brought over a tray of coffee for Dad and hot chocolate for Skip and me. She sliced one of the pumpkin pies. “Do you feel up to having sweets?” she asked me, picking up the whipped cream.
Dad grinned and reached across the table, squeezing my elbow. “Bring on the goodies, dear. Our girl is recuperating quickly.” He looked at both Skip and me. “We have so much to celebrate this year!”
Skip nodded—one of the first times I’d ever seen him remotely acknowledge that his “little Merry” was worth her salt. My brother’s genuine smile warmed me to my croupy soul.
Once again, I was excused from kitchen cleanup. Hurrying to Dad’s study, I closed the door and phoned Chelsea, hoping and praying things were all right with her.
“Hello, Davis residence” came a stiff response.
“Mr. Davis,” I said, “this is Merry Hanson calling. May I speak to Chelsea, please?”
“Well, I believe she left to go caroling with some friends. But I’ll sure have her return your call.”
“Thanks,” I said, getting ready to hang up.
“Uh…wait just a minute, Merry.” He coughed a little. “I heard you took quite a spill on Zooks’ pond last weekend. Just wanted to say that I’m mighty glad you’re feeling better now.”
“Why, thank you, Mr. Davis. That’s very kind.”
He sighed a bit. “Well, I’ll give Chelsea your message when she comes in.”
“Okay, and thanks again. Good-bye.”
We hung up, and I was surprised at how friendly Mr. Davis had seemed this phone call.
“Everything all right?” Dad asked as I passed him in the hall.
I stopped to tell him what Mr. Davis had said. “But I didn’t get any new info on Chelsea’s mom. I guess Chelsea’s out caroling somewhere.”
“Well, don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll hear something soon.” Dad headed for his study, and I went back to enjoy my Christmas gifts in the living room—specifically the new photography books.
While I thumbed through them, I thought about Jon Klein. What was it about him that made me so curious? From what I’d learned of him in the days since my accident, he and I shared a whole slew of common interests. But what about before my memory lapse? What had gone on between us then?
Speaking in alliterated sentences seemed terribly important to him for some reason—almost a preoccupation. The more I thought about it, the more baffled I became. I was more anxious that ever to interrogate Chelsea, getting her to tell me everything she knew about Jon.
My mind wandered back to the conversation with Chelsea’s father. Mr. Davis had said she was out caroling with friends. But my friends were her friends, so why hadn’t I heard about this?
The answer came swiftly, almost on wings. The doorbell rang, and when Dad opened it, I heard singing. “Joy to the world, the Lord is come!”
I listened for a moment. The clear sound of Chelsea’s soprano voice was evident. So that’s why I was kept in the dark! Maybe it was intended as a surprise.
Dad called from the foyer. “Merry, some friends of yours are here.”
Mom got out of her chair and scurried to the front door to greet them. “Come in, come in,” I heard her say. “Merry Christmas to all of you!”
Chelsea and a group of our mutual friends from church came into the living room, greeted me and then went over to stand by the hearth to warm themselves. Soon they were sipping hot chocolate, compliments of Mom, of course.
“We came to cheer you up,” Chelsea said, grinning first at me, then at Lissa Vyner, Ashley Horton, Jon Klein, and his sister Nikki, along with three other teens.
I tossed the afghan aside. Having carolers come indoors on a freezing-cold night, especially when they were dear friends, brightened everything. Especially my outlook. “Happy to have a houseful,” I said. “Sing some more songs.”
Jon smiled broadly, and I noticed that he turned to Ashley and poked her. “See, that’s what I mean. Merry’s supreme,” he said.
I felt uncomfortable. But Jon’s comment didn’t seem to bother anyone else. Soon they were singing again—“Angels We Have Heard on High.”
Chelsea came over to sit on the throw rug next to the couch. “How are you doing?” she asked as the group continued to sing.
“I’m okay, but what’s with Jon?” I whispered.
“Don’t freak out,” she said, keeping her voice low. “Ashley’ll never catch on to his ridiculous game. He thinks you’re tops.”
I didn’t exactly understand what had just happened, but I assumed she’d explain later. What I really wanted to know was how the visit with her mom had been. I was resigned to wait to bring it up, though, until she and I could talk privately.
The angel song came to a lilting climax. Dad started the applause. Mom, Skip, and I followed suit.
“What’s your favorite carol?” Lissa asked. “Maybe we could sing it for you.”
“If all of us know it,” Ashley piped up, smiling at Jon.
“Oh, it’s an easy one,” I said. “Do you know ‘I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day’?”
Jon and two other boys were nodding that they knew it and began testing their baritone and tenor ranges just for fun. Someone said it was getting too toasty by the fire, so they all sat down on the floor while Mom went to find an old hymnal. Ashley and Lissa ended up finding the right pitch for the group, and they began to sing, sharing the hymnal as best they could.
Sonorous but sweet sounds filled the room. They sang mostly in harmony, four part on certain phrases. During the last verse, Mom disappeared from the room again, only to return with two large serving plates of cookies—the snickerdoodles from Miss Spindler and Mom’s own specialty, rich chocolate chip.
Chelsea stayed close to me throughout the visit. In between cookie munching and sips of hot chocolate, the casual choir of carolers entertained us with a cappella music.
Skip even joined in on several choruses, clowning around with his old girlfriend, Nikki Klein, who seemed mighty happy about seeing him again.
All in all, the evening was entirely too short.
“It’s getting late,” Ashley sa
id, glancing at her watch.
They got up and were milling around, some of them going over to ooh and ahh at Mom’s splendid angel decorations on the tree.
When Dad offered to drive them back to Chelsea’s house, she graciously declined. “Thanks anyway, but we want to make a quick stop at Miss Spindler’s.”
“Oh, how thoughtful,” Mom said, getting up to collect the empty mugs.
“After Old Hawk Eyes’ place, where are you headed?” Skip asked.
Mom looked startled at Miss Spindler’s nickname, but Skip wiggled his head comically, grinning back at her. “It’s okay, Mom. Really.”
Nikki giggled. “You should come along,” she invited him.
The twinkle in Skip’s eyes gave him away. Going off to college hadn’t wiped away his memories of Jon’s pixie-faced sister.
“We’ll probably end up at the Zooks’ house last,” Chelsea said. “I want to personally thank Levi for saving Merry’s life.” She smiled sweetly at me.
When I glanced back at the group, astonishment was written all over Jon’s face. He began to rub his chin, looking puzzled. “No one said anything about singing for the Amish,” he muttered.
“Oh, you don’t have a thing to worry about,” my brother said. “The Zooks are some of the nicest people you’ll ever meet. Right, Merry?”
Jon glanced at me again at that juncture, as well as Skip. The big question marks in Jon’s eyes made me nervous.
Ashley—the dear girl—corralled Jon into the hallway just then, where Dad’s voice could be heard assisting the carolers with the location of jackets and other personal things.
Chelsea got up and leaned down to speak to me. “Hope you liked the surprise, Mer. Happy Christmas.”
“Thanks. It was really great,” I said, gazing over my shoulder. “And it was especially fun watching Jon and Ashley together.”
“I think he’s got an alliteration agenda. Something about that word game of his.”
“Really? How do you know?” I said, wondering why I should even care.
She straightened her thick sweater. “I overheard Jon saying it was time to teach more of his friends how to speak alliteration-eze.”
“Meaning Ashley?” I said. “Think she can do it?”
Chelsea frowned. “Do you remember disliking her…from before?”
“I never disliked Ashley. Never.” I studied my friend. “Did I?”
Chelsea was nodding her head and making groaning sounds.
“Well, I can’t imagine why. I mean, Ashley’s got a lot going for her.”
Chelsea grabbed my hand. “If you don’t get your memory back pretty soon, Mer, she’s going to have a lot more going for her!”
I didn’t ask her to spell things out. I was sick with a lousy cough and a faulty memory, but I wasn’t ignorant. Anyone could see how Ashley felt about Jon.
“Call me the minute you get home,” I pleaded. “We have to talk—tonight!”
“I’ll call, but don’t hold your breath about Ashley. She may not be Jon’s intellectual equal, but she likes him. And I mean a lot!”
I almost told her that it didn’t matter, that I liked Levi Zook a lot. But knowing Chelsea, she’d only remind me that Levi wasn’t the one for me. Or something like that.
Chapter
15
“I really don’t know what to tell you about Jon,” Chelsea said later when she called. “But I know one thing—before your accident you really liked him. And that’s the honest truth.”
“What about Levi?” I asked hesitantly.
“I don’t think you were all that excited about seeing him this Christmas. I tried my best to read the end of his last letter, but you snatched it away, like it was private or something.”
“There’s a letter from Levi? Where?”
“You hid it. Probably with all the others.”
I could hardly believe this. “You mean Levi’s been writing me? Oh, Chelsea, this is such wonderful news!”
She was groaning now. “Listen, Mer, this entire conversation is hopeless. I mean, you really can’t decide anything about either guy until you get your memory back. Don’t you see?”
I didn’t want to talk logic. Not now. “So you want me to move slowly because you think I had a crush on Jon, is that it?”
“Think? Girl, I know you were nuts about Jon. But why, I couldn’t begin to tell you. Most of the time his head’s buried in some book. Grades have always been more important to the guy than girls.”
“Hey, have you been practicing Jon’s word game?”
She laughed. “Not on your life. That alliteration stuff is for ingenious people.”
“Like me?” I laughed. Somehow it relieved the stress.
She didn’t answer, though, and I felt very sympathetic toward her when she changed the subject to her mother and the visit last night. “It was a disaster.”
“Oh, Chelsea. I wondered why you didn’t call.”
“Well, Mom couldn’t exactly handle the emotion of seeing either Daddy or me.”
“And the pictures? What did she think of them?”
“They made her cry. She could hardly talk to either of us. Like I said, it was awful.”
I remembered what my dad had said about a counselor. “Was a professional with you during the visit? Someone to help deal with the transition?”
Chelsea breathed hard into the phone. “There were two advisors present, but none of it seemed to help much. I guess it was too soon for Mom.”
“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “We’d all hoped—”
“Please, don’t give up, Merry. I’m not.”
“That’s good, because your mom needs you. I hope you know that.”
“It’s just so depressing, especially when I had my heart set on something special happening…for Christmas.”
I could feel her pain, even though I didn’t fully understand what she was experiencing. “I’ll keep praying, okay?”
“Thanks,” she said with tears in her voice.
“I wish you’d told me sooner,” I said.
“It wasn’t the easiest thing, holding it inside, but I was worried about you, Merry. I nearly lost you. I wouldn’t want to say or do anything to make you worse.”
“Thanks to Levi, I’m still here.”
She laughed a little. “I wish you could’ve seen him tonight when we caroled over there. Levi kept asking your brother about you after almost every song!”
“You’re kidding! In front of everyone?” My neck grew warm envisioning the scene.
“Levi’s very unique,” she said. “But he’s not Jon.”
I moaned. “Oh, what’ll I do? My feelings are all so jumbled up since I fell into the pond.”
Chelsea promised to do what she could to help me regain my memory. “But only when you’re ready.”
“I’m ready now. Honest!”
She was giggling. “You name the time, and I’ll be there.”
“We can’t do anything about it tomorrow,” I said. “My grandparents are coming from New Jersey. They spent the first part of the holidays with my aunt and uncle.”
“I bet they loved seeing your twin baby cousins. How old are they now?”
“Becky and Ben will be seven months old tomorrow. Grandpa and Grandma Landis—my mom’s parents—always divide the holidays between Aunt Teri and Uncle Pete, and us.”
“Well, I won’t push you, Mer, but time’s running against us, if you know what I mean.”
“We have to keep Jon from falling for Ashley.”
“We have some work to do,” she said.
“Whatever you say.” I smiled into the phone. “But what makes you think you can cure me?”
“For starters, we can always pray about it, right?”
“Always,” I said.
“And there’s the matter of your poetry books.”
“So?”
“You’ll see what I mean.” Chelsea seemed so confident. I hoped she was right. Because for once in my life, I realized I was n
ot the one being counted on. Miss Fix-It was the one in most need of repair.
Even though I always thoroughly enjoyed time spent with my grandparents, having them come to stay with us now was a bit distracting. I needed time to focus on what Chelsea had said—that she wasn’t kidding when she declared right down the line that I’d liked Jon and not so much Levi.
Trust was the key. What else could I do?
I searched high and low for Levi’s letters the day after Christmas, hoping they might give me some insight into my former feelings.
I started with my desk drawers, searching through school assignments, old address books, and an occasional note from Jon Klein. Funny, on one of them, I’d penned the nickname The Alliteration Wizard.
Somehow, though, the title didn’t do anything for me—not as far as bringing back the memory I’d lost. And I knew that even if Chelsea had been here, I wouldn’t have given the nickname more than a passing glance.
The shelves of my walk-in closet were next on my list. Scouring the colorful shoe boxes and scrapbooks on the first shelf, I found only odds and ends. Nothing pertinent to either Levi or Jonathan.
It was late in the day when I discovered the pinkish box on the middle shelf. I’d come upstairs to get my digital camera because Mom wanted some close-up shots of Grandpa and Grandma beside the nativity scene in the dining room. That’s how I happened onto Levi’s letters. Almost half a shoe box full.
Of course, I couldn’t just sit there and sift through them with relatives waiting to be photographed. So I set the box on my desk and told my cats to guard it with one of their nine lives.
Grandma was fussing over Grandpa’s shirt collar, trying to get it perfectly aligned with his tie, when I arrived. He grumbled about it, glancing over at me every so often until the collar was exactly to Grandma’s liking. “Don’t you want to look nice for your granddaughter’s picture?” she coaxed.
He mumphed and garrumphed, and finally the two of them were posing with broad smiles.
“Don’t wear out your smiles yet.” I walked backward around the long table, checking for exactly the right angle. Leaning on the buffet, I steadied my hand. “Okay, one…two…three.”
SummerHill Secrets, Volume 2 Page 17
