SummerHill Secrets, Volume 2 (46 page)

I saw clearly the road that ran in front of my parents’ home and all the way down past the Zooks’ private lane. I saw the white gazebo in my own backyard, where strangers had slipped a baby in a basket and left her there, and the willow grove where Lissa had waited for me on that moonlit November night so long ago.

Sighing, I knew, sure as anything, how the nosy old lady had spotted little Susie Zook being harassed by tourists last summer. How she’d seen me riding with Levi in his courting buggy, too.

Beneath me, there were noises coming from the attic, and I assumed Miss Spindler was still searching for me. But I remained silent, not wanting her to know that I’d discovered her secret. At least, part of it.

“Merry, are you up there?” she called.

She was on her way up! I was going to be caught whether I liked it or not.

What should I do?
I glanced over the side of the railing, determining if I could jump to the lower roof level. Carefully surveying the distance, I decided not to risk a broken leg or two. I wasn’t
that
stupid.

“Merry?” There she was again. Miss Spindler was coming. I was burnt toast!

There was no other choice but to answer. And I was opening my mouth to call to her when I heard a chiming sound, like beautiful orchestral bells.

Whatever the sound was, it silenced Miss Spindler. She actually stopped calling! Not sure whether to shout for joy or hold my breath, I sat on the railing and looked out over the valley below. Rachel Zook was coming in from the barn, followed by Aaron and her younger sisters. They were finished with afternoon milking, most likely.

To the south of me, I scanned the soon-to-be acres and acres of cornfield across SummerHill Lane from the front of my house. To the west, I enjoyed the leafy tops of maple, spruce, and elm trees. I could not see as far up the hill as Chelsea Davis’s house, though. It was situated on the crest of the hill, higher than even the roof of Miss Spindler’s house. Back to the north, I could see the sun-dappled meadow where Rachel and I had spent our afternoon together yesterday.

I’m queen of the mountain
, I thought. Checking my watch, I suddenly realized I hadn’t heard a sound from Miss Spindler for quite some time.

Now might be as good a time as any to head back into the attic. Maybe, just maybe, I could sneak back down to my room and she’d never have to know where I’d been.

On tiptoes, I inched my way back into the attic, peeking through the crack in the door before heading inside.

The place was deserted.

Whew!
I was home free!

Just as I crept past the computer desk, though, the chimes I’d heard before
dinged
again. I glanced toward the screen.

Wonder of wonders! Miss Spindler, it said, had an e-mail message. I stepped closer for a better look. No, it said she had
five
new e-mails! Truly amazing. Old Hawk Eyes was as thoroughly modern as any person I knew.

Not wanting to pry, I noticed a note pad lying near the mousepad on the desk. To my surprise, I saw a long list of names.
E-mail pals
, it read, and at the top were printed the words,
Windows on the Hill
.

“What’s going on?” I whispered, investigating further—snooping around the desk area but not reading her e-mail messages. “Wait’ll Skip hears about this!”

Miss Spindler was truly plugged in and turned on. She was in touch with the world in a way I’d never dreamed possible.
Never!

But what could “Windows on the Hill” mean?

I had to find out!

Stepping inside Miss Spindler’s attic and seeing her computer setup, e-mail and all, was one thing. Trying to decipher what was actually going on up there was something else altogether.

It turned out I had no time to find out for sure. The supper bell was ringing downstairs mighty powerfully. I had to scoot. And fast.

After supper dishes were cleared away, Miss Spindler asked if I’d had a nice after-school nap.

“A nap?”

“Why, yes, dearie, I called and called to you. I figured you were fast asleep…poor thing, tired from all that there book learnin’. ” Her eyes were smiling, as if she knew I hadn’t been sleeping at all. To tell the truth, it seemed as if she was playing a little game with me.

“I wasn’t napping,” I said.

“Oh?” She tilted her head to one side. “Well, I was mistaken, then, I do suppose.”

“Yes” was all I said, but I was dying to ask her about Jon Klein’s phone call. Since I wasn’t supposed to know anything about it, I’d have to wait till she brought it up on her own.
If
she did.

So I tried to be patient all through a game of Scrabble. She simply rearranged her wooden tiles, one after the other, taking her sweet time, not talking about Jon’s phone call. All the while, I stewed. What
had
he said to her during that time?
Maybe he taught her how to speak alliteration-eze
, I thought comically and almost laughed while Miss Spindler racked up a triple-word score.

“Well, now, dearie, let’s see if you can top that.” She’d said it with a spirit of determination—and victory.

Now what was I to do?

Shuffling my tiles, frustrated at the appearance of a
q
without an accompanying
u
, I planned my pathetic move.

“What’s the matter tonight, Merry?” she asked, sticking a pencil into her blue-gray puff of hair.

I glanced at the clock. “I’d better get to my homework.”

She was shaking her head. “Nothin’ doing, dearie. Not before you take your turn. Then we’ll tally up the score.”

There was no way out. I had to follow her wishes. After all, I was the guest here. Still, I
had
to know about that elaborate computer setup of hers. And her conversation with Jon.

I took my turn and counted up a measly eight points. Before I left for my room, Miss Spindler added up the score. She was the winner. “Thank you, Merry, for being such a right good sport,” she said as I pulled out my chair. “But I’m wondering if there might be something else on your mind, dearie?”

I wasn’t rude, but I dodged the question. “One of my school friends is waiting for me to call,” I said. “Do you mind?”

“No, no, I’ll put the game away. You run along.”

Deciding it would be best to call Jon from my cell phone, I darted up the stairs to my room and dialed. Thank goodness, he answered on the first ring. “You’ll never guess what I found in Miss Spindler’s attic,” I said, not even saying who I was.

Jon was all ears. “I’m listening, Merry.”

“On second thought, I’d better wait to tell you at school,” I said, thinking I shouldn’t reveal anything over the phone. “But it’s big…I mean
big
.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you at your locker, first thing.”

“That’s nothing new,” I said, chuckling.

“Oh really? Well, if that’s the case, let’s not stop now.” His laugh was warm and encouraging.

I was anxious to hear about his phone call. “What did you and Miss Spindler talk about this afternoon?”

He paused. “Maybe I should make
you
wait till tomorrow, too.”

“Aw, don’t be a spoilsport,” I said. “It’s not such a secret, is it?”

“Might be, Mistress Merry.” It was his cue for me to play the word game.

“
M
’s?” I asked.

“Maybe,” he said.

I stopped to think. “Might Merry make many more mindless mistakes?”

“Wow—great stuff.”

“That’s not
m
’s,” I insisted. “Start again.”

“Nope, I give up. You win today. You win for always.”

“What?” This was truly amazing.

“You heard me, Merry. You’re the Alliteration Queen. I pronounce you the victor.”

“You’re kidding, right?” After all this time, he was naming
me
winner?

His voice grew soft just then. “I’m tired of it.”

“Alliteration-eze?”

“That and the idea to add rhymes to everything.” He stopped, and I could hear his breathing. “You know what I’d really like, Merry?”

I was breathless—could hardly speak.

He didn’t wait for me to answer, and I was glad. “I want to start talking to you normally. It’s too hard to make real sense of things when you’re all tongue-tied over
t
’s…or, well, you know.”

I knew exactly what he meant. But I wasn’t feeling so articulate at the moment. I had a funny feeling he was trying to tell me something very important.

“Merry…you still there?”

“I’m here,” I said softly.

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“At my locker, right?”

“No…better yet, I’ll save you a seat on the bus.”

My tongue felt permanently tied, for sure. All I could do was mumble something totally unintelligible when he said good-bye.

Hanging up the phone, I honestly felt a bit dizzy. I’d been waiting nearly forever for this moment, and I could hardly breathe.

My cats were sympathetic enough. We snuggled, the four of us, on top of the old feather bed. “Somebody likes me,” I told them softly.
Very
softly.

Leaning back against the fat, over-plump pillows, I day-dreamed of walking down the halls of James Buchanan High with Jonathan Klein at my side.

“There’s only one other thing that would make me as happy as this,” I said to Shadrach, Meshach, and Lily White. “Finding Abednego would be truly great.”

They seemed to understand—at least the brothers agreed with my remark. I wasn’t so sure about Lily White. She seemed entirely satisfied sharing the attention with one less cat.

“Tomorrow I’m going to search for him again,” I told them. “Cats as big and black as Abednego don’t just vanish from the face of the earth.”

His brothers must’ve understood because both of them hopped off the bed and leaped up to adjacent wide windowsills and peered out into the darkness.

“We go home tomorrow afternoon,” I told Lily White. “You’ll get to see Skip again. Won’t that be nice?” I cuddled her close to my face, and her purring was strong and steady.

“Miss Spindler’s got herself a computer…and e-mail, too,” I whispered against the soft, furry head. “Isn’t that the tallest tale you ever heard?”

When I said the word
tale,
Lily White flapped her delicate white one against my arm. “Okay, kitty-girl, down you go.”

It was then I remembered something Old Hawk Eyes had said.
“I done put my feelers out all over.”
Had she e-mailed lost-cat messages to her computer pals? Is that what “putting feelers out” meant?

Jon’s broad smile lit up the entire school bus. I tried not to show my giddiness, and he was polite and slid over next to the window as I sat down.

Fortunately, Chelsea was nowhere in sight. Had she been on the bus, saving a seat as she always did, I would’ve had some big explaining to do.

“Who goes first?” Jon said.

I couldn’t help but smile. He was more than eager to hear of Miss Spindler’s attic hideaway. “I’ve got the most incredible news for you.” And I told him about the old lady’s computer setup, complete with e-mail capability.

“Wow, that
is
news,” he said.

“What I wonder is how she’s kept it a secret.”

Jon nodded. “Who knows how long she’s been using e-mail to keep tabs on people.”

I gasped. “So that’s it! She must be sending mail to the SummerHill neighbors up and down the road, getting the scoop on everyone that way.”

Grinning, Jon leaned against the window, turning to face me. “She told me about some of those neighbors yesterday on the phone. You’ll be surprised when you hear who they are.”

“Really? Like who?”

“For starters, Matthew Yoder’s dad owns a computer.”

“You’re kidding—Rachel’s boyfriend’s dad?”

“He can’t have it in the house because the Amish bishop won’t allow it. But Mr. Yoder has permission to use the computer for his cabinet-making business.”

I was shocked. “But they’re Old Order Amish!”

“I was surprised, too. But Miss Spindler says she and Matthew’s mother exchange e-mail almost every day, along with a lot of other Plain folk, including Ben Fisher’s mom, way down at the end of SummerHill Lane.” His eyes were on me as he shared this amazing tidbit of information.

“This is so crazy,” I said, leaning on my book bag. “How’d you get her to tell you this?”

He glanced down at his books for a moment. “I guess she wanted to talk. She’s a lonely old lady, you know.”

I shook my head at him. “I think you’d better level with me, Jonathan Klein! What did you
really
say to her?”

“Let’s just say I charmed Old Hawk Eyes.”

Charmed?
I laughed out loud.

“I’ll bet you did.” I stared at him, knowing full well he wouldn’t divulge his tactics. At least not without some prompting. “So…did you charm her with alliteration?”

“Only for a while, but soon she was intrigued with the word game, so she decided to try it herself.”

I laughed. “Miss Spindler and you?”

“Hey, everyone else is speaking it. Why not?” His eyes were twinkling mischief. “The old lady knew all along where you were, Merry,” he said. “She figured you were checking out her attic yesterday when I called.”

“What?”

“Miss Spindler went along with it…guess she didn’t want to spoil your fun.”

One wacky revelation after another! “So…does she want me to ask her about what I saw in the attic?”

“Not only is she restless to tell you, she’s hoping you’ll help her sift through all her e-mail messages,” he replied.

“Why me?”

“For some reason, she seems to think she can trust you, Merry.” He paused, looking right at me. “And something else.”

“There’s more?”

“She has trouble seeing her monitor with her trifocals—makes her neck stiff, she said. So maybe she’ll ask you to help her out sometime.”

“Why’s she getting so much e-mail, do you think?” I asked.

“She’s enjoying all her new friends, I guess.”

The bus pulled into the school parking lot and stopped at the appointed curb. My most miraculous moment was about to end. I wanted it to last forever, sitting here beside the cutest boy in the whole school. No, the whole county.