SummerHill Secrets, Volume 2 (43 page)

“What a pretty place,” I said, spotting the lavender-and-blue Amish Spring Flower quilt pattern, probably made by Esther Zook and her relatives.

Miss Spindler’s face was aglow with pleasure. I could see she was thrilled to have me and my cats share her home, if only for a few days. “It’s not many who come stay with me,” she explained, frowning slightly. “Oh, I have my friends—a good many, too—but not much overnight company anymore.”

“Thank you for having me,” I said politely.

She showed me where there were extra hangers in the closet for my clothes. “There’re empty drawers in the dresser, too,” she said, sliding them out to show me, one after another.

“You’ve gone to too much trouble.” I put my suitcase down.

“No…no, I always keep drawers empty, just a-waiting for folks. Don’tcha worry none about that.” She smiled broadly, showing her teeth briefly—for a moment I thought she was going to hug me, too. But she came close and picked up my suitcase, carrying it over to the closet. She pulled out a foldable rack and placed my suitcase on top. “There you be, dearie.”

Again I said, “Thanks,” and began unpacking while she tiptoed away. I waited till her footsteps faded, then I slipped out of the room. Glancing around the hallway and second-floor landing, I wondered where the attic steps might be located. But I didn’t feel comfortable heading off to do serious snooping just yet. I had to unpack first and then get the lay of the land, so to speak. Besides, my cats were antsy. I wouldn’t risk having one of them interfere with my scheme to investigate Old Hawk Eyes’ attic. Still, I was prickle-skinned with expectation.

Miss Spindler’s supper went far beyond delicious. Her Waldorf salad, homemade rolls, and chicken and dumplings were topped off with two kinds of pie—Dutch apple and cherry, with vanilla ice cream.

I chose the apple, and she warmed it up ever so slightly, enough to make the scoop of ice cream slide off the side.

When we were finished eating, Miss Spindler seemed altogether pleased with herself. “Well, looks like we ate for clear weather, didn’t we,” she said, clucking.

Carrying my dishes over to the sink, I offered to help. “Why don’t you sit down and I’ll clean up.”

She waved her hand at me as though shooing a fly. “Aw, dearie, I’m sure you have something better to do—like homework or whatnot.”

“I finished my homework in study hall.”

“Well, what about that there retirement scrapbook your mama told me about? What about working on
that
tonight?” she said.

I’d brought along prints of the best pictures, all right, but I still wanted to do my fair share in the kitchen. And I told her so.

“Nonsense.” Her blue-gray bob shimmered under the sink light. “While you’re here, you’re my guest.” She flashed a smile at me. “I want you to come again sometime, you know.”

I nodded, feeling at a loss for words. The old woman was bullheaded, that was for certain. She got something set in her mind and nobody but nobody was going to persuade her differently.

“If I can’t help tonight, what about breakfast?” I offered. “You’d be surprised what a good cook I am—and even better at cleaning up!”

She nodded her petite head up and down as she stooped over the deep, two-sided sink. “Nothin’ doing,” she protested, and the finality of her words was clear. She was standing her ground. Old Hawk Eyes was like a thick-shelled Brazil nut—too tough to crack.

I wondered how tough it would be to find her attic and see for myself what was going on up there.

It turned out that I did work on Dad’s scrapbook a while, and after about an hour of that, Miss Spindler and I played a rousing game of checkers. Not that she was so much better than I—she was just so shrewd and cautious of every move.

At last, it was bedtime. I knelt beside the bed and prayed for my parents and the building project in South Central America. I prayed for Levi, too, but only in passing. It was hard to focus in on someone I’d cared so much about, knowing his feelings were changing toward me, or already had.

Jon Klein showed up in my nighttime requests, but I only asked the Lord to help me not freak out so much in front of him. Nothing else.

My concerns for Abednego concluded my prayers. “Please, Lord,” I whispered into the darkness, “keep my big, old cat safe. Send someone along to find him if he’s hurt—to take care of him until
I
can again. Thank you for hearing my prayer. Amen.”

The next day dawned sparkling bright, and morning birds warbled to their hearts’ content. First thing, I thought of Abednego and prayed that today he might find his way back home.

I got up early on purpose so I’d have time to stop in and visit Rachel Zook before heading off to the school. Miss Spindler didn’t seem to understand why I wasn’t all that hungry, so I told her where I was headed. I didn’t tell her today was my midyear birthday, though. Most older folk don’t understand that sort of thing. Guess they forget what it’s like being a teenager. “Between twelve and twenty’s a precarious spot,” Dad had teased last September on my sixteenth birthday.

“I’ll look after your cats for you,” Miss Spindler called to me.

“Thanks, and keep an eye out for Abednego…just in case!” I hurried down over her sloping backyard, crisscrossing to my own, and stopped to check on the house. Searching under the gazebo first—and not finding him there—I continued looking everywhere, in the back and side yards, and around the front porch. But Abednego was nowhere to be seen.

Inside, I dashed to my room, thinking if he’d returned through the kitty door in the garage, he might be curled up on my bed, fast asleep.

“Kitty, kitty, are you here?” I called, going from room to room upstairs.

In my parents’ bedroom, I noticed the narrow door leading to the attic steps was ajar. Quickly, I closed it without thinking anything about it.

Not till later.

I was on my way to Rachel Zook’s house, cutting through the willow grove, when it dawned on me where to look for Miss Spindler’s attic steps. In her bedroom, of course.

But how would I get there without being caught?

Dismissing the discouraging thought, I ran across the open meadow, over the white wooden fence, through the pastureland, and down the side yard, to the barn. There I found Rachel cleaning up from the morning’s milking.

She seemed surprised to see me. “Cousin Merry! What’re
you
doin’ over here so early?”

I had to laugh every time I heard her refer to me that way—as a cousin. But it was absolutely true, in a distant sort of way, at least. We had traced our roots back to common ancestors. Sure enough, we
were
cousins.

Looking around, I felt uneasy now that I was here. What would Rachel think if I inquired after Levi this morning, clear out of the blue?

I went up close to her, glancing this way and that, making sure no one was around. “Have you heard from Levi?” I asked hesitantly.

“Jah, we had a letter from him yesterday,” my friend replied.

“So he must’ve told you that he’s staying in Virginia this week?” I phrased my question carefully. I didn’t want to come right out and state anything too presumptuous.

She kept her head turned, facing the cow. “S’pose he’s too busy to bother with us during his school break,” she said.

I didn’t comment on her reply, and it was probably a good thing because in walked young Aaron with his father. Rachel surely must’ve sensed that I didn’t want to discuss Levi with her father and younger brother in such close proximity, pitching hay to the mules a few yards away.

Thank goodness she didn’t expect me to help sweep out the barn. I was already showered and dressed for school. There’d be no time to run back to Miss Spindler’s and change before the bus lumbered down SummerHill Lane if I did happen to get my clothes dirty.

I checked my watch. Plenty of time left to chat with my Amish friend, but this wasn’t a private enough atmosphere for it.

“What’re you doing this afternoon?” I whispered to Rachel.

“Weedin’ our Charity Garden, probably,” she said. “Wanna help?”

I considered her invitation, but what I really wanted to do was go explore a meadow of yellow-faced daisies or maybe ride my bike over to the sun.dappled trees surrounding the springhouse a mile or more down the road. “It’s…well, sort of a special day for me,” I said, dawdling.

She grinned back, and her blue eyes lit up. “Jah, I know.”

“You do?”

“It’s April twenty-second, right?” she said, wiping her hands on her long gray apron.

“Uh-huh.”

“So then ya must be turnin’ sixteen-and-a-half,” she said, as if she’d known all along.

“That’s right.”

She gave me a quick hug. “We oughta do somethin’ right nice, Cousin Merry. A wonderful-gut walk in the woods or whatever you say.”

I had to smile. Rachel knew me almost as well as Faithie had.

“Are you sure you won’t be missed in your garden?” I asked, not wanting to take her away from chores.

“Ach, I can weed after lunch. You just come on over after school’s out. We’ll have us a nice time together.”

We walked outside into the sunlight. “Thanks for being such a good friend, Rachel,” I said, giving her another hug.

“Is Abednego back?” she asked suddenly.

I shook my head. “Not yet…but soon.”

She frowned, her blue eyes more serious now. “Shall we go searching for your cat today?”

“My school friends and I spent Sunday afternoon combing the area. Nobody’s seen him anywhere,” I told her.

“He’s probably out having himself a mouse-eating party,” she said with a hopeful grin. “Jah, maybe we’ll find Abednego today.”

“That would be a good half-birthday present.” I had to laugh because it was so true.

“Well, happy half birthday,” she said, grinning at me.

“See you after a bit,” I called, running down the Zooks’ dirt lane to the road.

My heart thumped
Jon Klein, Jon Klein
ninety miles an hour as I headed down the crowded school hallway. I couldn’t figure out what was causing me to feel this way. Chelsea was absolutely right—saying that Jon and I had been through a lot together. Mostly rough times. He’d hurt me by flirting with both Lissa and Ashley over the past eighteen months—even Rachel Zook, last February. Still, that was two months ago already.

I sighed. Guess it was time to relinquish my grudge, if that’s what it was. But I was worried. Could I really and truly trust the Alliteration Wizard?

“Merry, you’re right on time,” Jon said, waiting for me at my locker.

“What’s up?” I asked, willing my heart to slow its pace.

“The game…the new one, remember?” His light brown hair was combed neatly, and I spied the gold flecks in his eyes. Funny, he was getting more handsome every time I saw him.

I remembered the game, all right. “I doubt I’ll be able to hold my own,” I said. “Creating alliterated
and
rhyming phrases all in the same breath, well…I don’t know. Maybe Chelsea and you should try.”

He was shaking his head slowly, eyes fixed on me. “I’m asking
you
, Merry.”

It seemed strange not hearing his alliterated nickname for me—Mistress of Mirth or Mistress Merry. But there was something truly sweet about the way he’d said my name without fuss and frills.