SummerHill Secrets, Volume 2 (28 page)

In no time, Chelsea seemed to be dying to read her sentence aloud. Like it or not, she was inhibiting Lissa and Ashley with her ability, but I couldn’t stop her. Besides, it was fun to see someone blossoming under my tutelage.

“It sounds ridiculous, but here’s what I have,” she said. “ ‘A charming and cheery chief chopped a piece of cheese, chastened his chum the chicken, and headed for church when he heard the chimes.’ ”

Her sentence brought hooting and hollering. “She’s better than Jon!” declared Ashley.

Chelsea beamed. “Thanks, but I still need practice.”

“We
all
do,” Lissa said, crumpling up her list.

“Time for tea,” I said jokingly. It was time for a change of scenery, that was certain. Couldn’t have my other students getting discouraged so soon. This was supposed to be lighthearted fun, after all.

I went to the door and opened it, calling down the steps. “Mom? Got any snacks?”

“Come on down, girls,” she said. “There’s plenty of whatever you like.”

Thank goodness for food
, I thought. And friends and family.

The next day, Ashley, Chelsea, Lissa, and I sat together in Mr. Burg’s Sunday school class. Chelsea and Lissa paid close attention. I was thrilled. Neither of them had grown up in church; both were new to the Gospel, Chelsea having declared herself an atheist years ago. Her heart had recently softened toward the Lord since the heartbreaking circumstances with her mother. Best as I could remember, she hadn’t skipped a single Sunday morning service since her mother’s return home.

After class, when Jon Klein came over to greet us, he pulled out all the stops. “Goodness, it’s great to get God’s gift going…and going.”

“Sharing salvation’s story?” I asked.

“Ah! Most moving, Merry, Mistress of Mirth,” he said, flashing his big smile and brown eyes.

“
Must
you?” I said, teasing. Would he assign me a letter of the alphabet—
m
for instance?—in front of my girl friends?

Mentally, I got ready for a montage of
m
’s while he showed off, alliterating left and right. But nothing was said about my joining in, and I realized we weren’t even close to challenging him to an alliteration match as a group. He was way too good.

“Finally figured out fun stuff on my fantastic camera,” Jon said, directing his comment to me at last.

“A fine thing for the faces of family and friends.” I chuckled.

Ashley was watching me now. Had to be careful. I couldn’t let on to her how important this alliteration thing was to me. She was just so…so
terrible
at it.

Anyway, Jon told us about the cool camera he’d received for Christmas, complete with telephoto lens—the works. Since I had a very similar camera in my collection, I understood his enthusiasm.

“In fact,” he said, “I’d like to focus on the four of you, maybe in the foyer later?”

“I don’t mind,” Chelsea spoke up. “Just do something creative.”

“Yeah, like have us hug hymnals,” I suggested.

His eyes lit up. “I have an idea.…” That faraway look seemed to take over.

“It’s time for church to start,” I said, cooling it with the alliteration. “I can’t believe you brought your camera along.”

He shrugged off my comment. “Let’s meet in the coat room right after church,” Jon said.

“It’s a deal,” Chelsea said, grinning.

Ashley and Lissa seemed hesitant.

“What’s the matter?” I asked later. “It’s just a couple of poses? So what?”

“We’re hobnobbing with the enemy,” Lissa said.

Chelsea was nodding her head. “Yeah, I thought we were supposed to produce puns and provoke a parade of phrases, not
pose
for the pal.”

“Great! You’re getting good,” I said, congratulating her and secretly wondering if she might not dethrone the Alliteration Wizard. Soon!

“So?” said Chelsea. “What about it?”

“Don’t you see?” I told them. “By hanging around the Wizard, you’ll pick up a lot. Just keep your ears open.”

We walked down the aisle and sat in the pew right behind my parents. Mom and Dad turned around and greeted us politely. “You’re welcome to have dinner with us,” my mother told the girls.

They thanked her quietly for the invitation because the music was beginning to swell.

“We’ll talk about it after church,” I said, settling back into the comfortably cushioned pew. Mom was always interested in hostessing—
my
friends,
her
friends, and Dad’s friends from the hospital. Leave it to my mother to assemble a group of people for the sole purpose of feeding them. She didn’t live to eat—she lived to feed others!

I noticed how beautifully the church was decorated, with several bouquets of red and white roses. When I read the bulletin, I saw that three different families had donated flowers in memory of loved ones who’d passed on.

Briefly, I thought of Faithie, my own deceased twin, and wondered if she might’ve had the gift of alliterating had she lived past age seven.

I reached for the hymnal, eager to sing the songs with my friends—the old, inspired hymns of the church.

By the close of the service, I was curious about Jon’s invitation to us to pose for pictures.

Why
had
he asked us?

Ashley was all bubbly about the picture-posing session, and I assumed it was because she still had a crush on Jon. Not that I blamed her. He was a cute guy. Though only our age, he seemed older, more studious.

Anyway, we met in the coat room. “Do you mind wearing coats?” he asked rather shyly. “We should go outdoors.”

The boy was learning fast. Although it was high noon, the sun had been hiding behind clouds most of the morning, so Jon was wise. He’d probably been reading up on the best light, which was typically just after sunrise or just before sunset. That’s when the low sun casts a golden glow over everything—people, animals, and landscape.

We were all bundled up now, standing on the front steps. Ashley wore her new outfit, a red wool coat—very stylish—with a hat and gloves to match.

Lissa, on the other hand, wore a camel-colored hand-me-down coat I’d given her—clean and neat. Looking at her, I realized the full-length coat fit her far better than it had ever fit me.

Chelsea was wearing a big grin. “I didn’t dress up much today,” she said, eyeballing the rest of us. Hers was a cute down-filled ski jacket of blue and green.

“You’re fine,” I said, picking lint off my own steel blue dress coat. “Where do you want us, Jon?”

He had us line up on the church steps, single file. Lissa, being the shortest, stood on the bottom step. Next came Ashley, me, and on the very top step, Chelsea.

“Okay, let’s have a serious pose,” he said.

“Like we’re proper, eighteenth-century ladies?” Chelsea asked, turning this way and that.

“Why not?” Jon replied. “Think
Little Women
.”

Trying to be serious when you’re told to be isn’t the easiest thing in the world. So we attempted somber faces, but what followed were waves of hilarity. We sincerely tried to keep a straight face, just never quite succeeded.

Jon started snapping, whether we were ready or not. “Beautiful, ladies,” he said, crouching down to get unique angles. His actions reminded me of the way I always liked to lean into my own picture taking.

When Mr. and Mrs. Klein came out of the church, Jon’s father expressed momentary astonishment and then motioned to his son.

“Uh…thanks, girls,” Jon said, running to catch up with them.

“We’re finished?” Ashley said. “Just like that?”

“And Jon didn’t even alliterate once,” Lissa moaned.

“That’s okay,” I whispered, “because we have lots of work to do before we’ll ever get as good as he is at alliteration-eze.”

“You’re right,” Ashley muttered.

I drew them into a huddle. “Who’s coming to my house for dinner?”

Maybe the girls were afraid I’d make them recite alliterated phrases all afternoon. I don’t know, but they all said they couldn’t come.

“Thanks for a super sleepover, though,” Ashley said.

I gasped. “Hey, you did it!”

“What?” she asked, wide-eyed.

“You used two
s
’s in a row. And without thinking.” I gave her a big hug.

“I guess all that brain strain is paying off,” she said.

“Alliteration Wizard, move over!” Chelsea laughed.

We waved and went our separate ways, scattering across the parking lot of the church. Mom was disappointed that my friends weren’t joining us for another meal.

“Maybe I’ll invite Rachel Zook over for dessert,” I told her as we rode the short distance to SummerHill Lane.

“Oh,
would
you, Merry?” she pleaded. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen your Plain friend.”

So it was settled. After dinner, I would go to the Zooks’ and fetch our neighbor. Maybe Rachel and I would have time to talk privately. Then she could share her additional secret. The one she was so fired up about yesterday.

By the time Mom’s four-course dinner was served and eaten, it was beginning to snow again. Donning my warmest clothes, I headed out into the blustery air.

I plodded along the footpath that led from our back porch to the main road out front. Anticipation began to build in me, and I played guessing games with my imagination. What secret did Rachel have “forthcoming,” as she’d said so evasively?

Pausing along the side of the road, where the ditch had filled up with snow, I tried to remember how the grassy slope looked in the summertime. “Warm days have flown,” I said to the ground, lamenting the cold. My breath turned into instant ice crystals in the frosty Pennsylvania air.

Hurrying on, I breathed through my nose, wrapping the warm, woolen scarf around the lower portion of my face. I almost laughed out loud, suddenly realizing to what extent I was willing to go to satisfy my mother’s need to be hospitable.

What if Rachel decided she didn’t want to brave the elements and return with me for pie and ice cream?

Br-r
. The thought of anything cold to eat made me shiver.

Surely she’d come, though. I was close to one-hundred-percent-amen sure she would. The Sundays without a Preaching service were a visiting day for the Amish. Today was one such day.

Unexpectedly, I spied Rachel’s big brother Curly John up ahead. He was helping Sarah, his wife, out of their parked carriage. I had no idea how they’d arrived without my seeing them. They must’ve pulled into the Zooks’ lane while I’d dawdled on the side of the road, daydreaming over summer, long gone.

Sarah handed a long, blanketed bundle to Curly John. Realizing that this must be the former “baby Charity,” the abandoned baby I’d found in our gazebo last July, I called to them. “Sarah! Curly John! Wait up.” I scurried over the snowy lane to catch up.

They greeted me with warm “Hullos” and “Howdy-dos” as we hustled into the old farmhouse, where the Zook family was enjoying the afternoon in their toasty kitchen. Abe and Esther sipped hot coffee, while their children played games at the table and on the floor near the woodstove.

“
Wilkom
, Merry,” Abe said, waving one of the children over to hang up my coat and scarf.

Almost instantly, the family gathered around the baby. They were drawn to her like bees to honey.

“How’s our first grandbaby?” Esther cooed, taking Mary right out of Curly John’s arms.

“She’s really grown,” I said, squeezing into the circle with Rachel on my right.

The children took turns kissing the little one’s hand and touching her button nose ever so lightly. Even Aaron, the only boy there, stroked her rosy cheeks.

Sarah turned to me and smiled. “Our little Mary’s such a blessing. We thank God every day that you found her and took such good care of her for us.”

I hadn’t seen Mary since I’d baby-sat for her at the end of last summer, before school started. “What is she now—nine months old?” I asked.

“Jah, you’re right.” Sarah helped her mother-in-law untangle the baby blankets, then asked, “Wanna hold her?”

Did I ever! I took one look at that adorable face and nearly cried as Esther placed her in my arms. “Oh, she’s so beautiful,” I whispered.