SummerHill Secrets, Volume 1 (27 page)

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 match. 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.

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 every 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.

“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.”

I sighed. “Well, there’s a big difference between a barn hop and going out with an English girl.”

Levi’s face lit up. “Are you sayin’ you’ll come?”

“Well, I won’t go if
you’re
driving!” I was serious and he knew it. “Besides, your father will tan your hide if he catches you.”

“
Dat
will never know.”

“Well, if I were you, I’d ask an Amish girl instead.”

He took his hat off suddenly. “But, Merry, you’re
not
me, so you don’t understand.” His eyes were more sincere than I’d ever seen them.

I felt awkward. Levi wasn’t kidding. He really wanted me to go.

“We have Sunday school and church early,” I said, hoping to defuse his eagerness. “I’d be tired if I was out late Saturday night.”

“What about Sunday night?”

“Levi,” I snapped, “what do you think my parents will say?”

He wasn’t going to stand for any lecture from me. The women in his life were taught to be compliant and submissive. “Please, will ya listen?” He touched my arm lightly.

“No, I won’t. Just because you’re not baptized yet doesn’t mean you should push the rules. Your father’s counting on you to follow in his footsteps.”

I didn’t really know that from Abe Zook directly, but it was the Amish way—passing the faith and culture from one generation to the next.

“I have plenty of time to decide about baptism,” he said with conviction. “This is
my
life. Nobody else can live it for me.”

In a strange sort of way, I understood.

“Well, what will your answer be?” he asked. “Will ya say ‘Jah,
des kann ich du’
?”

Shielding my eyes from the afternoon sun, I looked up at him. “What’s that supposed to mean—jah, des kann…uh, whatever?”

“Just say, ‘Yes, I will.’”

Even if I had wanted to go—and I wasn’t sure I did—there was no way my parents would let me. “I’m really sorry, Levi.”

He placed his straw hat back on his sweaty head, then picked up the reins and slapped the mules without speaking.

I thought I’d offended him by turning him down, and probably would’ve worried about it if I hadn’t stayed for a moment longer.

To my surprise, when he reached the end of the row, Levi turned around and waved. “Maybe some other time. Jah?”

I have to admit I was relieved to see he was cheerful again. I waved back before going to find Rachel.

All the way to the barn, I thought of Levi. It seemed so strange, his interest in me. Sure, we went back a long way—to childhood days. And yes, I’d saved him from drowning, but why wasn’t he flirting with Amish girls after late-night singings like other Amish boys his age?

Why me?