SummerHill Secrets, Volume 1 (43 page)

Abednego arched his back, showing instant dislike.

“Don’t mind him,” I said. “Abednego has an obvious disdain for most all of the human male species.”

He chuckled, then changed the subject. “Shouldn’t ya ask your parents’ permission to go for a ride?”

I knew he’d gotten his driver’s license, but I was also familiar with the way he handled a horse and buggy. “I don’t call you Zap ’em Zook for nothing,” I said, laughing.

He didn’t seem to mind the joke. “We won’t go too far up SummerHill,” he coaxed.

“I better not, Levi.” Then I asked, “Are you still running around with that wild bunch of boys?”

“I’ve sowed my wild oats, Merry. More and more I go to Bible studies at my Mennonite friends’ house.”

I knew some of the Amish didn’t allow independent study of the Bible. They viewed the bishop as the dispenser of spiritual wisdom and truth. And certain Scriptures were used as examples over and over in the preaching services, often to the exclusion of others.

“I wanna know more. I…” He paused. “I wanna be a preacher, Merry, a minister of the Gospel.”

Levi, a preacher?
I thought.
How truly exciting!

I wanted to hug Levi, but I only squeezed his hand. “That’s wonderful,” I said.

“The Bible, it’s so plain about showin’ the way,” he said with shining eyes. “I wanna share the Good News with everyone I meet!”

I leaped up out of my chair. “Go into all the world and tell the good news. You’re following the Lord’s command, ‘Reverend’ Levi Zook!”

He chuckled. “Merry Hanson, you’ll make a fine preacher’s wife someday.”

“That’s what you think,” I said, laughing.

The next day was Sunday.

Lissa and Jon sat together during Sunday school and church as if they were a regular couple. It was becoming less difficult for me to see them together, maybe because they were
always
together. Still, sometimes I missed Jon—and our secret alliteration game.

During the singing, I thought about Levi and the long talk we’d had last night. He seemed determined to follow God’s plan for his life.

I remembered the verse in Second Chronicles that Dad had read to me: “Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or discouraged.”

Now that Levi had a goal in mind, he seemed stronger than ever. I liked unwavering strength in a guy. But…I also liked Jon Klein and the way we’d hit it off during our junior-high years together. Why did things have to be so complicated?

After church, Jon and Lissa came up to me in the parking lot. Lissa was all ears—eyes, too—when Jon asked if I was ready for the Alliteration Challenge.

I gulped, trying to hide my delight and surprise. “Are you serious?”

“When’s a good time for you?” he asked.

“I’m out of practice,” I told him, nearly dying of embarrassment as Lissa’s eyes started to bulge. “Maybe we should wait.”

“What’re you talking about?” Lissa demanded.

He still hadn’t told her!

“It’s, uh…” Jon glanced at me, his eyes begging for assistance.

“It’s just a thing,” I blurted.

Lissa’s eyes widened. “A thing? Like
what
thing?”

I had no intention of filling her in on Jon’s and my private word game. But it was Jon’s problem now—he’d gotten it started. I stared at him, hoping he’d take my lead and say something amazing to appease his girlfriend.

He tried to explain. “You know how some friends have inside jokes?” He sounded terribly patronizing. “Well”—and here he glanced at me with the most endearing look—“Merry and I have an inside game, I guess you could call it.”

“Merry and you?” she echoed.

Jon nodded. “It’s just something we—Merry and I—do.”

I could see this vague explanation wasn’t going to suit Lissa at all. She whirled around and stormed across the parking lot, not looking back.

“Uh, maybe that wasn’t the best approach,” I said, slightly concerned. “She’s obviously upset.”

The corner of his mouth wrinkled up, and I suspected that he’d set this up on purpose. “Lissa doesn’t understand that people can have more than one good friend at a time,” he said.

I noted that he’d almost said
girlfriend
!

“Well, I hope she gets over it,” I said.

“Say that with all
e
’s!” he teased.

“Okay, I will.” I paused to think, feeling lousy about Lissa leaving like that. Seconds passed, then it came to me. “Eventually, endurance evolves to an end.”

Jon wore a quizzical expression. “Huh?”

“I told you I was out of practice!”

“That wasn’t so bad, really.” He flashed his wonderful smile. “Just didn’t make any sense.”

“I’m sorry about what happened just now with Lissa.”

He shrugged as though it wasn’t something to worry about. “She gets overpossessive sometimes.”

I struggled with mixed emotions. It was exciting being with Jon again—like old times. The passion for words was still strong between us. But Lissa was also my friend, and I’d played a big role in making her very upset.

After dinner, Lissa called. “Why were you flirting with Jon like that?” She sounded more accusing than interested in a genuine answer.

“Well, I don’t know what to tell you,” I said, making an attempt at courtesy. “I didn’t think I was flirting.”

“C’mon, Merry, you were!”

I sighed. “Well, I guess if you say so, then I was.”

“So…you’re admitting it?”

“Isn’t that what you want to hear?” Frustration was a way of life with this girl!

She exhaled into the phone. “What I want is for you to stay away from Jon. He’s my guy, and that’s the way it’s gonna stay.”

“Well, I understand how you feel, Lissa. I’m really sorry you misunderstood. And I’m sorry about hanging up on you yesterday.

Honest.” I must’ve sounded a tad too sweet, even though I meant to be sincere.

Anyway, my words obviously backfired on me—now it was
her
turn to hang up on
me
. Except Lissa didn’t simply hang up. She slammed down the phone.

What was going on? Was Lissa really and truly afraid of losing Jon? And if so, why?

The Sunday evening service was canceled so people could spend time with their families since it was the night before the Fourth.

Dad knew he would probably be busy in the ER tomorrow. More accidents happened on a big holiday than at any other time, he often said. Kids mishandling firecrackers, people drinking and driving. He’d be working all day tomorrow. That’s how it was when your dad was the head honcho—the best—on a city hospital trauma team.

Dad was stretched out on his chaise lounge in the shade of the gazebo. He was taking it real easy this afternoon. Two bluebirds and three sparrows sparred over who got dibs on the birdbath in our side yard.

Things were quiet. Peaceful. Skip was out on a date with Nikki Klein, playing badminton at her house. Made me wonder if Lissa and Jon were making it a foursome. I tried not to think about them, though. Lissa’s response to my apology was troubling. I wondered how I could patch things up with her.

Mom was taking her usual Sunday afternoon walk. She liked to walk briskly several times a week. Did it like clockwork—especially on Sundays after dinner. The steep jaunt up Strawberry Lane, the road behind our house, was a workout for anyone, fit or not.

“It’s good for her,” Dad said, reaching for his iced tea. “Gets her heart rate up.”

“What about you, Dad?” I sipped on a tall glass of lemonade. “Shouldn’t you be exercising, too?”

He agreed with me. “Guess I’m getting old and worn out, though. Sometimes it’s easier to take a nap, especially on a hot afternoon.”

I poked him playfully. “Oh, Daddy, you’re not
that
old.”

“The big five-o is coming up fast,” he said, looking serious. Too serious.

“Oh, so what. Fifty’s just another number.” I hoped that would cheer him up. Lately, it seemed every time he mentioned his age, a cautious look crossed his face. It made me feel uneasy.

Later, we talked about Amish doctrine and how it was different from our beliefs. When Dad was close to dozing off, I mentioned Levi’s interest in becoming a preacher.

His eyes popped open. “Levi Zook?”

“Yep.”

“Well, if that doesn’t take the cake!”

“Will it be tough for him—leaving the Amish eventually?”

“Not nearly as hard as if he’d gone along with baptism and then left. This way, he’ll always have the fellowship of his family and friends. He won’t have to suffer the shunning.”

I was relieved. Levi didn’t need the stress of abandonment along with everything else. We talked more about Amish life and their tradition. Then, during a lull in the conversation, I glanced at Dad and noticed he’d given in to an afternoon nap.

That’s when
I
went for a walk. I decided my heart needed stimulation, too. Even though I was only pushing sixteen!

Many more cars were driving up and down SummerHill today than usual. Tons of tourists were in Lancaster County for the Fourth. And by the looks of the traffic, lots of them had discovered the best views of Amish farmland were out here off the beaten tracks.

Halfway down the road, past the willow grove and near the Zooks’ lane, two cars pulled over. Several people got out carrying pocket cameras. I could spot out-of-state tourists almost instantly by their throw-away cameras and the way they dressed. Especially the middle-aged men—floral-patterned Bermuda-length shorts and knee socks with sandals were a dead giveaway.

One tourist had a video camera. I watched out of the corner of my eye as I walked along the opposite side of the road. The man with the camcorder started moving slowly across the road, zeroing in on the large wagon-wheel mailbox at the end of Zooks’ lane. The closer I got to him, the more upset I became.

Then I heard Susie Zook calling my name. “Merry!” Somehow she had sneaked up on me and was running toward me. She came barefoot, the narrow white tie strings on her Kapp flying.

I shouted to her, “Quick, cover your face!”

It was too late—the heartless tourist aimed his camera right at my friend.

I ran over and stood in front of her. “Take
my
picture if you have to.”

“Move away there, missy,” he said, motioning me aside. “Just one more quick shot of the little Amish girl won’t hurt anything.”

I felt Susie’s arms slip around my waist. And for one fleeting moment I remembered another day, another time, when Faithie had put her arms around me this way.

We had been posing for pictures while riding a white pony. It was our seventh birthday, and Faithie was terribly frightened. She’d clung to me, with her arms around my waist….

“Go away!” I yelled at the tourist. “These people are not zoo animals. They’re human beings!”

The man lowered his camera, staring at me. He reached into the pocket of his floral-patterned Bermudas and pulled out a wad of dollar bills. “Well, here, maybe this’ll change your mind.”

Susie’s arms tightened around me.

“Go away, please!” I said. But the man kept coming toward us. Closer…and closer.

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid.

Susie and I inched backward a few steps at a time, but there was no convincing this guy. He wasn’t simply a rude tourist—he was downright mean!

Just then, I saw a jazzy red sports car flying down SummerHill, headed right for the cameraman. The way the car zigzagged on the road was enough to scare tourists out of the county—and right out of their Bermuda shorts!

“Yee-ikes!” I cried, pointing. “That’s our neighbor. She can’t drive worth beans!”

The man jumped the ditch and dashed to the other side of the road, wearing a look of terror. Not to be defeated, Old Hawk Eyes bore down on him.

It was clear as anything—Ruby Spindler was up to her old spying tricks. Somehow she’d seen exactly what was going on out here. She had come to rescue us!

Abruptly, she braked her car, sending billowy clouds of dust into the air. Then, jumping out of the driver’s seat, the old lady—with cell phone in hand—ran over to the guy with the camcorder. “Lookee here, mister,” she squawked. “I don’t know what yer business is, but as far as I can tell, you’ve been trespassing on private property.” She glanced over at me, still hiding Susie. “Now I’m tellin’ you—git!”

She backed up her words by dialing 9-1-1, reporting a harassment inches away from the tourist. It was as in-your-face as you get! And by the time she started to give pertinent information, the intruders had sped off down SummerHill.

Susie crept out from behind me. “You saved us,” she cried. “Oh, Old Hawk—”

“Uh…Miss Spindler, you were amazing,” I interrupted.

“How’s every little thing here now?” she asked Susie, leaning over to shake her hand. “Are you gonna be all right, darlin’?”

Susie nodded. “They were making
Schpott
of me, jah?”

“Not anymore, they won’t make fun,” Ruby Spindler said. “Not anymore, no indeedy!”

I stared in amazement at Old Hawk Eyes. Everyone knew she was a full-fledged busybody, but there was clearly another side to her. A very caring, almost parental side. I could hardly wait to report this aspect of her personality to Dad.