SummerHill Secrets, Volume 2 (21 page)

“Me too. I hate hospitals. They’re a hassle. Home’s a haven, a much happier place.”

Mom looked at me funny. “Merry, why are you talking that way?”

“What way?”

“Everything’s…uh, kind of alliterated.”

“It is?”

She scratched her head and smiled. “You know, there are some people who would love to be able to do that naturally.”

“Jim?”

“Who?”

“The boy who tried to save me but fell in the pond instead?”

“Oh, you mean Jon Klein?” She frowned a little. “Why? Does
he
talk that way?”

“He did at the hospital yesterday.”

Mom paused to make a fuss over my cats, who were beginning to crowd me on my bed. Then she left the room.

Why did I keep forgetting that guy’s name? Sure, he was cute, but what on earth had been so wonderful about him? I struggled to remember who he was—and what it was that he and I liked to do at our lockers every day.

Was Chelsea just giving me a hard time? Why would I go gaga over a guy with a hang-up for head rhyme?

Deciding to get to the bottom of this, I pulled out my yearbook from last year. Then, so Mom wouldn’t worry that I’d have a setback, I slipped back into bed and began to browse.

There were plenty of pictures of Jon Klein—no sports shots, though. Jon was on student council and did all kinds of other academic stuff. From the looks of things, he was super smart. Even made the honor roll both semesters!

I closed the book and let my cats creep closer to me on my comforter. What had attracted me to the guy? Besides his attending my school and church, what else did we have in common?

Chelsea might know, I decided. When she called to tell me about her Christmas Eve visit with her mother, I’d ask her more about Jon.

I must admit, I could hardly wait.

Dad arrived home earlier than usual from his duties at the ER. He came right upstairs to see me. “How’s my girl doing?” He kissed me on the top of my head and sat on the edge of my bed.

“I’m feeling better, I think. Ready to tackle the Christmas tree—what’s
under
the tree, that is.”

He smiled, looking far less tired than he had in the past two days. “Would you like to go downstairs? There’s a rip-roaring fire in the fireplace. It’s the place to be on Christmas Eve.”

“I’ll do anything to get closer to the presents,” I teased.

Nearly grown as I was, he scooped me up in his arms and carried me downstairs, planting me on the living room sofa in front of a crackling fire.

In the corner stood a nine-foot tree, showering the room with twinkling white light. The tree filled the expanse of space between the hardwood floor and the high ceiling—typical of the old Pennsylvania farmhouses. Mom had carefully trimmed its thick branches with clusters of cream-colored grapes, baby’s breath, pearl hearts, dried hydrangeas, ivory angels, and snowy-white poinsettias. Definitely a white theme this year, and by the looks of so many winged messengers, an angelic one, too.

Soon Mom came running with afghans, and Skip brought cushions for my back. My family fluttered about me, plumping up pillows and making sure every inch of me was covered in warmth. Except my head, of course.

“Better watch it,” I warned. “You’ll have me spoiled in no time.”

“Too late,” Skip said, laughing.

Dad pulled his easy chair closer to the sofa. “So, tell me, did you remember anything new today?”

I stared at the tree. “Well, for no reason at all, I sorta remembered the deep snow on the day I nearly drowned. The wind, too.”

He nodded. “We did have quite a lot of snow prior to your accident. And again afterward,” he said softly. “Anything else?”

“Echoes. There were echoes in the wind. In my ears…I could hear whispering in my ears as I—yes, that’s it, I remember skating now. I really do!”

“Who was with you, Merry?” Dad seemed terribly excited, leaning forward as he anticipated my answer.

I strained to recall. But not a single face came to mind, even though I’d been told Jon and Levi were there.

The phone jangled me out of my reverie, and a few minutes later, Mom appeared in the doorway. “Are you up to a phone call, Merry?”

“Who is it?”

“Lissa Vyner. She said it’ll just be a minute.”

“Sure, I’ll talk to her.”

Dad picked up the evening paper and began to read. I waited patiently for Mom to bring in the cordless phone. She came smiling, bringing it along with a cup of herbal tea for me. Carefully, she set the teacup and saucer on the coffee table. “The tea’s very hot, so don’t burn your tongue,” she whispered as I took the phone from her.

“Hello?” I said.

“How
are
you, Merry?” My friend’s voice cheered me immediately. “Everyone’s been asking about you.”

I wondered who
everyone
was. “Well, I’m home from the hospital, that’s the best thing. That place tends to smell a little offensive, know what I mean?”

“The antiseptic, probably.”

“Yeah, that and other icky stuff.”

We talked about her grandmother, who she said was scheduled to arrive any minute. “Grammy Vyner’s still bragging about the pictures you took of me in my junior bridesmaid’s dress. On your porch last July…remember?”

“Of course I do. Just because I’ve blocked out random chunks of my life doesn’t mean I’ve gone completely senile.”

“I didn’t mean that, really.” She apologized all over the place. “Oh, Merry, there’s something I have to tell you before we hang up. It’s about Jon Klein.”

“What about him?”

“He called last night and started talking in some sort of bizarre code or something.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure I can describe it. I guess you could call it alliteration, except doesn’t that usually show up in poetry?”

“Other places, too. I’ve seen it in some prose.”

“Is he into some new author, or what?” she asked.

I glanced at Dad, whose head was bobbing while he tried to read the paper. I was determined not to snicker, but it was very hard to keep a straight face.

“Merry?” she said, calling me back to the conversation at hand.

“Oh, sorry, Liss, it’s just that you should see my dad. He’s trying to read the paper, and he keeps falling asleep.”

She didn’t seem to care what my father was doing at the moment. “I just thought maybe you could give me some idea about Jon’s latest craze. That’s all.”

“Me?” I sighed. “I wish I could help you, but I have no idea who the guy really is. Everyone keeps telling me how attached I was to him before…” I stopped for a moment.

Lissa jumped in. “Oh, it’s true, Merry. I think you really
did
like Jon before you nearly drowned.”

“But why was he skating with me that day? What was that all about?”

“Well, did you ever think that maybe Jon likes you?” she said. “Maybe
that’s
why he was there.”

An awkward silence fell between us before she continued. “I really hope you have a great Christmas, and I’m so sorry about your accident. Who knows what horrible thing might’ve happened if Levi Zook hadn’t saved you.”

“He’s a mighty special guy, that Levi. At least you can understand
him
when he talks,” I joked.

We giggled a little and then hung up.

“Dad?” I whispered to my dozing parent, putting the phone on the coffee table. “It’s almost suppertime.”

He snorted awake, blinking his eyes. “Uh…sorry. What did I miss?”

“Oh, some girl talk. Nothing earthshaking.”

He sat up and straightened himself. “I guess the past few days have left me more tired than I thought.” He smiled at me. “I don’t think I’ve mentioned this to you since your accident, but Jon Klein’s father came to see me on Saturday afternoon. That’s why Jon was over at the Zooks’ farm when you fell through the ice.”

I listened, wondering what he was about to tell me.

“Seems that your friend is interested in photography, same as you. I gave his dad some pointers on what kind of camera and lens equipment to get. But it’s supposed to be kept top secret, so don’t say anything.”

“Jon wants a camera for Christmas?” It seemed that maybe Chelsea hadn’t been pulling my leg about all we had in common after all.

“Yesiree, Jonathan’s getting a big surprise come tomorrow,” Dad announced.

“So you’re saying he’s into photography?”

“Absolutely.”

Just then Mom came to serve me a hearty bowl of homemade vegetable barley soup for my Christmas Eve supper. Dad got up and headed for the dining room, two rooms away. I could hear him getting settled at the elegant holiday table that Mom had no doubt set for the rest of the family. But it was their hearty laughter that caught me off guard, if only for a second.

The sounds of their chuckling reminded me of something. Laughter…on the ice. Echoes of fun—all the wintry games. Echoes began to wing the events back to me.

Slowly they came, little by little….

An Amish boy stood near a bonfire. He was calling to me.
The faster the better
, he said.

Those of us on the ice began to play a game of Crack the Whip. Faster and faster we flew.

Someone tripped and fell, breaking the chain of hands.

Then someone screamed. Who? Was it Rachel? Was it my own frightened scream?

With all my might, I tried to think what came next, wondering hard why Chelsea had insisted that I surely must’ve been delighted to be skating with Jon that day.

In spite of myself, no such information or emotion emerged from my scattered memory. It was as if someone had closed the door on it. Tight.

I was beginning to resent the constant questioning from my family. Chelsea and Lissa, too. Everyone seemed more interested in helping me remember than anything else. People were more concerned about my temporary loss of memory than they were about my upper-respiratory infection, which had come from aspirating icy pond water.

All during that Christmas Day, I was barraged with one reminder after another that I’d forgotten a whopping twentyfour hours…and much more. Not to mention a few key people, too.

Levi Zook, however, had a totally different approach to things. He came with a gift for me early Christmas afternoon, after our family gift opening and a splendid dinner of prime rib and scrumptious trimmings.

I was resting in the living room, staring into the fire, trying my best to boost my brain.

“Merry, you have company,” Mom said softly, showing Levi into the room and arranging the chairs so he and I could enjoy both the fireplace and the Christmas tree.

Slender and fit, Levi seemed content to sit in Mom’s big Boston rocker, holding the rectangular-shaped gift box in his lap. For the longest time, he sat very still, not allowing the chair to move. He looked very handsome in his light blue sweater. “How are ya feelin’ today, Merry?” he asked in a soft voice.

“Getting stronger every day, thanks.”

He glanced down at the present in his hands. “I brought a little something for ya.” Handing it to me, he beamed an innocent yet charming smile. “God bless ya, Merry. Happy Christmas.”

“Thank you, Levi,” I said, feeling a bit giddy.

I opened the gift—a box of assorted chocolates. “Enjoy the sweets when you’re all well, jah?”

I assured him that I’d wait. “It was so nice of you to think of me.”

He leaned toward me slightly. “Oh, Merry, I’m always thinking of ya. Always.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I have to admit, I was a bit relieved when he turned to admire Mom’s large antique nativity figurines displayed on the hearth.

“God’s been so good,” he was saying. “To think what might’ve happened out there on the pond…”

“Let’s not talk about that,” I said.

Then he began to reminisce about our childhood days—riding in the Zooks’ pony cart, pitching hay with the grown-ups, swinging on the rope in the hayloft, sampling his mother’s jams and jellies.

Slowly, deliberately, he worked his way through the years, to the recent past. “Last summer was a real special time for us, Merry,” he remarked. “We even had a nice buggy ride in the rain one Sunday afternoon.”

He didn’t ask me if I remembered, and I listened, telling my brain to relax for a change.

“Miss Spindler, our neighbor, raced right past us in her sports car. Ach, you were so worried that she’d spread it around SummerHill that you and I were seein’ each other.”

“And she did, too, didn’t she?” I spoke up.

Levi grinned. “That’s right! The busybody told your daddy that she’d seen us together. And you got the willies, thinkin’ I’d be gettin’ myself in trouble for taking a pretty ‘English’ girl for a ride in my open carriage.”

I felt myself blush at his comment, remembering vaguely what he was talking about. But the more Levi spoke, the more I knew for sure that I liked him.

“How’re your college studies?” I asked, relying on the information Chelsea had given me.

“Well, to be honest with ya, it’s the best thing I ever did for myself. So much of what I always wanted to do is happening now. The Lord’s work is all around me, Merry. I’m excited about preachin’ the Gospel—and very soon.”

The joy in his heart was evident in his eyes. They sparkled as he spoke, matching the bright surroundings of tree and tinsel.