SummerHill Secrets, Volume 2 (24 page)

“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
not
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.”

Click
.

“Now, hold it right there,” I said. But I coughed unexpectedly and had to retake.

Mom went to the kitchen to get my evening dose of antibiotics and cough syrup. Then it was time to try for several more shots.

Grandpa was in a bad way by the time I was completely satisfied. In fact, he was pushing his tie loose and unbuttoning the top button on his dress shirt as I put my camera in its case.

Trying not to think about Chelsea, who was probably waiting for a phone call, I joined my family for home videos featuring Ben and Becky. The tiny twins were adorable.

“Looks like Becky might be a little bigger than her brother,” Mom observed.

“Well, you know how it is with girls,” Grandma offered. “They fill out quickly.”

Grandpa laughed outright. “They’re only babies, for cryin’ out loud. Give the little fella some slack.”

We chuckled at his comment, and the next time I looked over at Grandpa, he was sound asleep in his chair.

By the time I dressed for bed, I was too exhausted to bother with all of Levi’s letters. My respiratory infection and the worry over my fickle amnesia had worn me out.

But I took time to pray, beginning with Chelsea’s mom. “Dear Lord, it would be terribly hard for me to be in my friend’s shoes, but you know what to do to ease her disappointment and pain. And I pray for Mrs. Davis. Please, will you help her adjust to the idea of coming home…and soon? Chelsea and her father really need her. They want her with them.”

I continued on, praying that in God’s perfect time and way I would remember the things I needed to know about my life. “Not just because there might be some cute boy involved, Lord. I ask this because I’m your child and I know you love me. Amen.”

Maybe tomorrow things would clear up for me. If not, I’d keep trusting. It was the only way.

First thing, even before I showered, I read Levi’s letters. Every last one of them. Wow, what an expressive guy! From reading them, I could tell that he was determined and directed. Knew what he wanted. Maybe
that’s
what I liked so much about him.

Chelsea had been absolutely right—Levi had his sights set on me. Oh glory! But if what she’d said about my former feelings was accurate, I wasn’t supposed to be overjoyed about it. Not anymore. I had to keep telling myself that Jon was the boy the pre-accident me had liked.
He
was the guy of my dreams.

Such a mix-up, not to understand your own feelings.

I got out of bed, sweet-talking my cats into coming downstairs with me for their breakfast. Mom and Grandma were already up scrambling eggs and making Belgian waffles on the new waffle iron Mom had received for Christmas.

“Hope you’re hungry,” she said, coming over to see for herself how I was doing today.

“I hardly coughed all night,” I told her. “The medicine must be working.”

I caught her studying me. “Something else is working, too.” Mom smirked a bit. “You’re not alliterating.”

“I’m not?”

She nodded. “I think it may be a good sign.”

“Maybe my memory’s mending.”

She grinned. “Meaning?”

I laughed. “Mom, you’re amazing. Wait’ll I tell Jon Klein about you.”

She waved her hand with a smile and went to help Grandma with breakfast.

Chelsea and I had the most remarkable fun together that next afternoon. Actually, what she had in mind proved quite revealing.

She stood comically in the center of my large bedroom, just the way I had almost three weeks ago when I’d read out of my poetry book. “Okay, here’s what we’re going to do,” she said, sitting me down on my desk chair, facing her. “Don’t say anything, Mer, just listen.” She pulled out a piece of paper, turning it so that I could see the long list of things she’d written.

“I’m listening.” I snuggled with Lily White.

“This is a list of memory starters,” Chelsea began.

Squelching a snicker, I pretended to be impressed. “Go ahead—trigger my brain.”

“C’mon, this is serious stuff.” She put one hand on her hip and began. “Three weeks ago, when you and I visited Rachel Zook—that’s Levi’s sister, in case you forgot—she invited you to her surprise skating party when we were upstairs in her bedroom. She wanted you to come and be Levi’s partner, and you said, ‘Maybe he should have a say about it,’ or some such thing. Anyway, for a little while, I thought you were going to say no, but then Rachel spoke up. ‘Do it for Levi,’ she said.”

“
You
must have a good memory,” I said. “Thanks for doing this, Chelsea. I’m enjoying myself.”

She shrugged, apparently not too pleased that the first thing on her list hadn’t worked an immediate miracle. “Okay, moving on. How about this? Way back as long as I can remember, you’ve watched out the school bus window, probably watching for Levi when we rode past the Zooks’ cornfield. And most every time I’d tease you with something like, ‘You must want to hand sew all your clothes or go without electricity all your life.’ ” She paused, waiting for a reaction from me. “Does that do anything for you, Mer?”

“Nope.” I sat very still, trying not to giggle.

She surveyed her long list. “Here’s one that might stir up something: number three. This one’s about Jon. You and I discussed him right here in this very room three weeks ago. Anyway, I told you that it looked like you were soaking up whatever he was saying each day at your locker. And you said—and I quote—‘Aren’t friends supposed to pay attention to each other?’ End of quote.”

I couldn’t help it; I let out a giggle. “This is so weird listening to you document my every movement—everything I said. It’s like you’re a walking diary—of
my
life!”