SummerHill Secrets, Volume 1 (22 page)

Their muffled voices rose and fell, then completely disappeared.

And I fell into a deep sleep.

Elton was sitting up in bed having breakfast the next day when Skip and I went to visit. I hadn’t needed a wheelchair like Skip suggested. I walked down the hall on my own just fine.

Elton wore a porous white bandage on his head. I could tell by the way he sat, straight and stiff, that he was in pain. Tears blurred my vision as I looked at his hands and forearms. They, too, had been wrapped with sterile nonstick dressings to protect his burns and keep the air out.

A plump, older woman stood over him, holding a cup of apple juice to his lips. “Hello there.” Her face broke into a wide smile as I came in.

Who is she?
Then I noticed the striking resemblance between her and my friend.

“How’s Elton doing?” I asked.

“Oh, he’s doing just fine.” She tucked a handkerchief under the waistband of her gathered skirt. “I’m Winnie Keel, Elton’s grandma. And you must be Merry.” She extended her hand to shake mine.

“Call me Grandma Winnie.”

I turned to introduce Skip. “This is my brother, Skip.”

“How do you do, young man,” Grandma Winnie said cheerfully.

I inched closer to Elton’s hospital bed, which was cranked up too high. If I could just see his eyes…

“I…I’d like to talk to Elton,” I said hesitantly. “Is that okay?”

“Oh, no bother,” she said, lowering the bed a bit. Then, pulling her hankie out of its hiding place, she waved it, grinning from ear to ear.

When she and Skip had gone, Elton struggled to pick up his pen from the breakfast tray. He held it in midair, staring at it as though he wished he could click it.

“Here,” I said, reaching over and taking the pen. “Your hands are too hurt for that.” And I began clicking away.

On and off.

On…off.

I didn’t feel one bit silly about clicking Elton’s pen for him. In fact, I clicked it for about two minutes before I stopped. “I can’t remember if I thanked you last night,” I said.

He nodded.

“Everything’s so blurry from yesterday. Maybe you feel the same way.”

He seemed to understand as he nodded.

I thought about the fire and the way he’d called my name over and over. “I…I heard you, Elton. I heard your voice.”

He pursed his lips, forming what looked like the beginning of an M. He tried again—this time his face turned red with the effort.

But there was no sound in him.

“It’s all right,” I whispered.

He stared down at his breakfast tray, motionless. I looked at his head, wrapped in sterile bandages, and held my breath to keep from sobbing. Here sat a true friend. Elton had done a heroic deed for only one reason. Friendship. A powerful word for a kid who couldn’t say it. And even more special for a kid who’d never experienced it. Until now.

A light tapping came at the door. I expected to see Skip, or maybe Elton’s grandma, but it was a nurse leading two policemen into the room.

What are they doing here?
I thought.

“You’ll have to excuse us,” one of the cops said. “We have a few questions to ask Mister Elton Keel.” I didn’t like the way he leaned on the word “mister.”

Worried, but not protesting, I said good-bye to Elton, and the nurse escorted me out of the room. “Be sure and tell them he can’t talk,” I pleaded with the nurse. “Please?”

She smiled, assuring me that she would.

In a few minutes, Skip showed up sporting a sub sandwich. I begged him to stand outside Elton’s room and listen in on the conversation with the cops.

“What for?” He bit into his sandwich.

“Please, just do it?” Miraculously, he went without an argument.

In a few minutes, Skip returned looking totally surprised. He sat down in the gray vinyl chair next to my bed.

“What did you hear?” I propped myself up with two pillows.

“You don’t wanna know.”

I gasped. “What are you saying?”

He leaned forward, resting his arms on his legs, studying me. “This might upset you, Mer.”

“What? I can handle it. Just tell me.”

He took a deep breath. “The cops think Elton had something to do with the barn fire.”

“How can they say that?”

Skip stared at his feet. “Two of the cops remembered Elton from the fire at your school.”

“Elton’s not a firebug!” I swung my feet over the side of the bed, as though scooting to that position would make what I had to say more powerful. “You have to make them understand, Skip. You have to!”

Skip stood up. “I barely know this Elton person.”

“He’s not ‘this Elton person,’ ” I shot back. “You sound like you hate him or something.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Mer. I think you better get ready to check out of the hospital. Dad and Mom’ll be here any second.” He looked at his wristwatch.

“That’s just great! Change the subject, why don’t you.”

Skip turned and left the room in a huff.

I muttered to myself. “Dad’s a doctor; maybe he can talk sense to those crazy cops.”

Suddenly, Skip poked his head back into my room. “You’re not thinking clearly, Mer. The police have no other suspects, and they do have reason to think that Elton was involved…so why shouldn’t they question him?”

“How on earth do they expect to get answers out of him when he doesn’t talk?” The whole thing was so ridiculous.

Skip tossed his sandwich wrapper in the trash.

“Hey, what about Ben Fisher?” I asked. “Where was he when the Zooks’ barn burned?”

“I don’t think you can pin this on Ben. Besides, no one saw him anywhere near the Zooks’ place yesterday. But Elton Keel, well…he was right there.”

I fought back the tears. “Elton wouldn’t go to all the trouble to start a fire and then rescue me from it,” I said. “He’s not totally ignorant, like you think.”

“C’mon, Merry. That’s not fair.” And with that, Skip left the room for good.

If the nurse hadn’t come in, I might’ve cut loose and bawled. She changed the dressings on my arms, reapplying the soothing cream to my burns. “You’ll want to keep these areas as dry as possible for several days,” she said. “Be sure to put this cream on and change the dressings daily.”

“Thanks,” I said, but my mind was on Skip’s words.
The police have no other suspects.

I gathered up my things, waiting for the doctor to check me out. Actually, I was too sick to go anywhere, and it wasn’t from the lousy arm burns. How could the police go and charge Elton with something he hadn’t done? Had they forgotten what he had done?

How many people would risk their lives—charge into a burning barn—to save another human being?

Elton was innocent. One hundred and ten percent, amen. And I was going to clear his name!

That afternoon, instead of going home with Grandma Winnie, Elton was hauled off to Maple Springs, a juvenile detention center. He would stay there until his hearing came up in a few days.

“The Zooks haven’t pressed charges,” Dad explained at supper.

“Then why’s Elton in jail?” I wailed.

“It’s not jail,” Dad said. “Not even close.”

“I’m sure it feels like it,” I muttered. “He doesn’t belong there.” Visions of Elton sitting high in the old oak tree near Hunsecker’s Mill Bridge haunted me. He needed to be outdoors, in touch with nature, not in some dark holding place for delinquents.

“The district attorney pressed charges, Merry,” Mom said, offering me some more noodles. “Arson is very serious business.”

“But Elton didn’t do it!”

Dad cut into his meatloaf, taking a bite and swallowing before he spoke again. “Remember the fire at your school, Merry? You told me yourself why Elton started it.”

“He was just mad…uh, hurt, really.”

“And why was that?”

“Because I rejected his picture. But this isn’t like that. Elton’s not a firebug!”

Dad looked over at Mom and back at me. “Elton set fire to his picture of you, only to retrieve it before it burned.” He took a deep breath. “I think there may be a parallel here, honey.”

“You can’t possibly believe that he torched the barn so he could save me.” It made no sense.

Dad was silent.

“C’mon, Dad, can’t you at least talk to the police about his good side? I mean, what about the fact that he saved my life? Doesn’t that count for anything?”

“I’m very certain the police are aware of that,” he said in his most professional voice. “I think we should take a few steps back from this thing emotionally”—and here he stared at me hard—“and let the legal system do its work.”

I stared at the kitchen wallpaper, tracing the strawberry vines with my eyes. Dad was beginning to sound like a shrink or something. Whose side was he on, anyway?

After supper, I fed my cats. Four of them. Lily White seemed to fit right in with the three Hebrew children. Abednego was the only one who’d exhibited the least bit of jealousy. Shadrach and Meshach actually seemed to like her.

Lily White’s singed fur conjured up thoughts of Nebuchadnezzar’s fiery furnace in the book of Daniel. The white color of her coat reminded me of the angel of the Lord who had walked with the three boys in the king’s furnace. I smiled as I watched Lily White eat her tuna delight. An angel must’ve been with Elton and me during the barn fire. Only we didn’t get to see it like King Nebuchadnezzar had. Maybe it was just as well.

I went to my room and threw myself on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Mom and Dad didn’t understand, and it was truly horrible. The very people who you’d think would help at a time like this… and all they could do was talk about the legal system.

Several hours later, Mom knocked on my door, asking to come in. I wasn’t in the mood for company, so she left me alone, which is exactly what I needed.

I rolled over and turned the radio on. Sometimes music helped when I was like this. That, and talking to God. But today I was too angry to pray. Pulling the pillows out from under my head, I went over the events of the week, thinking through the days since last Thursday when I’d accidentally taken Elton’s picture at school.

Tons of things had happened in five days. That thing with Cody Gower in art. The lunchroom scene. Elton’s suspension from school. The Zooks’ fire. And now this.

I stared at the wall where my finest photography hung on display. Not a single picture was of a person. I didn’t take shots of people. Places and things had always interested me more.

The moment in the hall last Thursday had come as a big surprise for Elton. I could still see his arms going up over his face, cowering away from the flash. But the encounter with Elton—bumping into his life the way I had—that had come as a bigger surprise to me.

It seemed strange to think that there was actually a picture of a human being on my digital camera, waiting to be printed. I smiled thinking about it. Most definitely a first. Maybe, by God’s providence, it hadn’t been an accident after all.

I sat up, looking at my arms. How much more might’ve they been burned—or worse—if Elton hadn’t come when he did? It made me wonder where his picture fit in my gallery of photos. In my gallery of life…

It was late when I asked Mom to help me change the dressings on my arms. I didn’t really need her help, but she probably needed to know I wanted it.

I didn’t go to school on Wednesday. Mom wanted me to stay home. And it was a good thing, too. The extra day would give me plenty of time to go and visit Miss Spindler—Old Hawk Eyes. She made it her duty to keep close tabs on things in the neighborhood. People thought she had a high-powered telescope or something. How else did she know about everything and everyone?

Miss Spindler was still wearing a terrycloth bathrobe and slippers when she answered the door. “Well, my dear, how’s every little thing?” She eyed the bandages on my arms.

“Well, you probably know about the Zooks’ fire,” I said, “and how I got out alive. So I won’t bore you with all that.”

“Oh my, dearie, ’tis not a bore.” She cackled as if she couldn’t wait to hear my version.

I began to tell her about Elton and how he’d risked his life for mine. Pausing, I took a deep breath before asking the question burning inside me. “Miss Spindler, is there any chance you saw someone prowling around on Zooks’ farm Monday afternoon… around three?”