SummerHill Secrets, Volume 2 (52 page)

When I saw Rachel, I told her only a select part of my idea. “I’ve been thinking of doing something. It might sound a little weird. But…it just might save Jingle’s life.”

She gave me a sidelong glance, but I ignored it. We waited near the fence for the orphaned lamb to wander over. The tiny bell tinkled its sweet sound, and we petted Jingle’s soft coat.

A lump caught in my throat when I saw how pitiful she was. Like a shadow of herself. “She’s pining away, all right,” I whispered.

“An awful shame,” Rachel replied.

I considered my unconventional idea, pondering it over and over in my mind. Then I got brave and made my intention known, so I wouldn’t get cold feet and back out. “Do you think it’s safe for me to go inside the fence?” I asked Rachel at last.

“Well, Merry, whatever for?”

“I want to try to enter Jingle’s world, so to speak. Honestly, I think she’ll take the nursing bottle better if I do.”

“I don’t know…”

“Isn’t it worth a try?” I insisted.

Rachel scanned the area, shading her eyes with one hand. “Ach, just a minute! Looks to me like Dat and Levi let the rams out to the back pasture.” It was true, only the ewes and smaller sheep—and Jingle Belle—remained in the enclosure. “It
might
well be safe enough for ya,” she said, still surveying things.

“Maybe this is providential,” I spoke up. “With the rams let out and all.”

Rachel seemed to like my mention of “providential.” Delight was written on her face. “Jah, maybe it’s not such a bad idea, after all.” And she ran to get the bottle of milk.

While she was gone, I prayed that God would help me connect with the starving lamb. “Somehow, Lord, please let Jingle take more nourishment today,” I prayed under my breath. “Please…”

My eyes caught sight of the willow tree, the one that had grown from the simple fishing pole.
If Faithie were alive, she’d be right here, helping me
, I thought. But I knew better than to talk to my sister, who’d gone to heaven. It was God who would help me now.

“Here you are,” Rachel said, running toward me with the bottle of milk.

I tested the nipple, squirting a thin stream of milk on Jingle’s nose by accident. Then I climbed over the plank fence. “Hello, sweet girl,” I whispered, sitting down next to Jingle. “I’m here, baby, just for you.”

She began to nuzzle next to me, making the saddest, yet dearest sounds. Jingle Belle was crying. Someone had cared enough to crawl over the fence. To
her
side!

Almost at once, the clouds seemed to part, allowing the sun to break through for a moment. When I offered the milk bottle, there was no hesitation from Jingle. The lamb drank heartily.

“That-a girl,” I whispered, holding hard to the bottle.

Rachel was nearly breathless with excitement. “Wait’ll I tell Dat and Mam,” I heard her say, and then she flew off toward the house.

“You’re the best little lamb I know,” I cooed to Jingle, who didn’t seem to mind my dinner talk. “We’ll fatten you up and get you well, don’t you worry.”

There were only the contented sounds of Jingle’s suckle. No sorrowful bleatings. I was overjoyed! “Thank you, Lord” was all I could say.

By the time Rachel arrived, bringing along her mother, Esther, and the rest of the children, Jingle had come close to draining the bottle dry.

“Let’s get her more milk!” young Nancy exclaimed.

“Jah, and hurry up about it,” Mrs. Zook said, clapping her hands.

The second bottle disappeared almost as quickly, and Jingle began to nod her head up and down. “Look, she’s thankin’ you, Merry,” little Susie said.

I climbed out of the fence and stood there with the Zooks, admiring the lamb on the other side.

“I should say, I believe she’s gonna live,” Esther announced under a sky that seemed bluer than before. “Well, I do declare.”

“Wait’ll we tell Levi,” said Nancy and Ella Mae.

“Praise be!” little Susie said, and the younger girls scampered off.

“We’re ever so grateful to you,” Rachel said, throwing her arms around me in a jubilant hug.

“I’m glad it turned out this way,” I said.

“ ‘Merry had a little lamb, it’s fleece was white as snow,’ ” Rachel’s mother recited comically.

Rachel herself finished the verse. “ ‘And everywhere that Merry went, the lamb was sure to go.’ ”

We had a good laugh, but there was more to it. A precious animal’s life had been saved. Right before our eyes!

Later that night, as I dressed for bed, I thought of Jingle and her world of the sheep corral. What had made me think to crawl over the fence and join her there? More than that, why had it worked?

The night sky was evident through the curtains. White fog had begun to descend on Lancaster County. I went to stand at one of the windows, looking out at the ancient maple in our front yard. Far sturdier than the frail weeping willow near the sheep fence, this tree had shaded our lawn for more than a hundred and fifty years, providing refuge on hot days and now lending support for a wooden swing, too. It was also the tree Lissa Vyner, my dear friend, had crouched under, calling me out of bed one moonlit night a year and a half ago. I hadn’t know it then, but along the way—since that night—God had made me aware of my “helping” gift. First stray cats, then an abused girl friend, an autistic boy, an abandoned baby, and now a sickly lamb.

Often, I worried that I got too caught up in my “Miss Fix-It” mentality. But I’m coming to understand myself better these days. I’m not so hard on myself, I guess. Losing Faithie may have gotten the helper thing going. I don’t know for sure. It really doesn’t matter. What counts is that I’m depending on the Lord for heavenly help.

Before slipping into bed, I thanked God again for letting Jingle live. “That dear little lamb is a lot like I was after Faithie died. For years, I couldn’t cry over her. Remember, Lord? But when I finally did, I started to heal.”

I brushed my tears away. “I think when Jingle drank all that milk today, she began to heal, too,” I continued my prayer. “Thank you, God, for giving me the idea about going into
her
world…the way Jesus did for us when He left heaven and came to earth.”

I hadn’t thought of the connection before—between what God did for humanity and what I’d done for Jingle—but it got me wound up. I really couldn’t sleep a wink, I was that excited.

Instead of wasting time tossing in bed, I got up and went to my desk and turned on the light. Now was a good time to double-check my English assignment for tomorrow, and while I was at it, I scrutinized my math and history homework, too.

I thought of my school and church friends: Lissa Vyner, Chelsea Davis, and Ashley Horton. All three would be giggling if they could see me now.

It turned out that I only stayed up till just past eleven. Then, I fell into a delicious, deep sleep. I dreamed I was a tall, sturdy maple tree, planted near a river—like the one in the first psalm. My roots reached far down into the soil, and nothing could shake me.

When I awakened hours later, my arms were stiff and nearly numb, like frozen tree branches in winter. I sat up in bed, moving my arms to get the blood circulating. Yet the tree dream lingered in my mind, the most peculiar dream ever.

The rain stopped sometime in the wee hours, Mom told me at breakfast. And the ominous white fog dissipated by the time I left the house to stand along SummerHill Lane, waiting for the school bus. I had a good feeling that this was going to be a beautiful day.

To start with, Jon saved a place for me on the bus next to him. Chelsea, in her regular spot, sat across the aisle from us, her nose in a book. She looked up briefly when I got on, pushed her thick auburn locks behind one ear, and then flipped back through the pages in her book.

“What’s she reading?” I asked Jon, smiling at him.

“Must be something very deep” came his answer, far less ecstatic than usual.

I knew why. I’d hurt Jon by not going on the hike with him. Taking a deep breath, I made an attempt at smoothing things over. “I’m really sorry about yesterday,” I managed, but my words came out flat.

“The hike?” He shrugged. “Forget it.”

I didn’t dare ask if he had a good time, or even if he went at all. The thought crossed my mind that he might’ve wanted to ask someone else, since I didn’t go. It wasn’t as if he and I were in an exclusive dating relationship. Not at my age—going on seventeen.

We rode in silence all the way to school. I stared straight ahead, looking out the wide dash window up front, feeling very awkward about the tension between Jon and me.

When we arrived, I could hardly wait to get off the bus. I scurried to the shelter of my locker without another word to Jon.

Chelsea followed close behind. “You two aren’t exactly humming today. Is it because you stood him up?”

“Chelsea Davis, I did
not
!”

“Well, what do you call it?” Her green eyes flashed.

I was no dummy. She’d definitely heard
someone’s
version of the story. I wondered how many other people Jon had told.

“You stood him up,” Chelsea accused me again.

“I’m late for homeroom,” I blurted.

“We just got here, remember?”

“I must be late for something.” I reached for my three-ring binder, and a landslide of books followed behind. “Yee-ikes! Look what you made me do!” I hollered, causing students to gawk.

“I’m outta here,” she said, launching into the tidal wave of humanity in the hallway.

I fumed, wishing Chelsea hadn’t said what she’d said. Wishing, too, I hadn’t retaliated and treated her horribly. I gathered my books and stuffed them back in my locker. I wished something else, too—that I had been completely honest with Jon.

What on earth had kept me from telling him about Rachel’s lamb? Why was I protecting my experience with a helpless animal, keeping it from a close friend like Jon?

I don’t know how long I stood there, staring and fuming into my locker. It must’ve been long enough to lose myself in my anger, because, suddenly, I heard a voice behind me.

“What’re you doing, Mer?”

Turning around, I saw Lissa Vyner frowning at me. “Hey, what’s up, Liss?”

“Asked you first.”

I sighed. “Whatever.”

“So?” I figured she wouldn’t leave me alone till I spilled out my problems to her. Lissa was like that—she could pretty much read my facial expressions and know when I was really upset.

“I was a jerk to Chelsea,” I admitted.

“No kidding. News like that travels with the speed of sound.” She nodded solemnly. “It’s not like you, Merry,” she said quietly.

“I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just that…”

“Is it about you and Jon?” she asked.

I couldn’t bear to hear any of this. Not from meek and mild Lissa. “Who all knows about this, for pete’s sake?”

She shrugged, taking a step closer to me. “Jon thinks you like Levi Zook
again
. He thinks that’s why you’re spending so much time at the Amish farm.”

I shook my head. “I haven’t even seen Levi.”

“Then he
is
back?” Her eyes were wider than I’d seen them in a long time.

“His sister said he was visiting, and I heard he was working with his dad, but, honestly, I have
not
seen him.” I paused, closing my locker. “Please tell Jon that Levi and I are ancient history!”

She smiled, hugging me. “That’s all I wanted to hear.”

The first-period bell rang, and we parted ways.

No wonder Jon was so quiet on the bus
, I thought. He was freaked over Levi’s return. But Jon had nothing to fear. Levi had a college girlfriend now. He was in love with someone new.

Then I felt it, my first twinge of uncertainty. It definitely wasn’t jealousy or anything like that. I slid into my homeroom desk and glanced at my assignment notebook. Browsing through my schedule for the day, I realized the twinge had become more of a stabbing pain. I could never, ever reveal this to my girl friends. And I would keep it secret from Jon, too. No one needed to know. Because this was totally absurd.

Yet the more I thought of Levi in love with Martha Martin, whoever she was, the more I cringed. My toes even curled up inside my shoes, and I felt the tension in my jaw. But I had no choice—I’d have to deal with it. Besides, it was too late now; I’d stuck my neck out, for sure. Why had I told Rachel I wanted to meet Levi’s girlfriend?

What
was
I thinking?

I groaned so loudly, several students turned around and glared at me. Sadly for me, the day was turning out to be less than beautiful.

The house was filled with music when I arrived home. The CD player was blaring with the likes of Mozart and Haydn. The cats didn’t seem to mind the classical racket. Actually, they were busy scarfing down their usual afternoon snack.

“What’s with the music?” I asked, giving Mom a quick hug.

“I’m attempting to raise the cats’ level of intelligence.” Her eyes twinkled.

“By playing the classics?” This was too weird.

“I read that it works for human babies, so why not cats?”

“You can’t be serious,” I said, getting down on the floor to pet my favorite kitties.