SummerHill Secrets, Volume 2 (53 page)

“Oh yes, I am.” She carried a plate of warm cookies to the kitchen table. “And…I’m practicing my ability to soothe customers while I’m at it.”

I looked up from my vantage point on the floor. Mom was absolutely radiant. She didn’t seem in need of a heart-to-heart talk, like Dad had said. Maybe he was mistaken. On second thought, maybe he was right. Maybe Mom was submerging her sorrow in planning a business.

“Miss Spindler’s agreed to be my partner. She and I have already discussed things, and we’re definitely having soft music piped into our little antique shop.”

“Dad told me you wanted to fix up the shed—start an antique business.”

She nodded. “Yes, and I’ve already begun to sort through old things, mostly junk that can be hauled away.”

“Are you actually going to do this?”

“Oh, Merry, honey, I’m so excited!” She gave me an impulsive hug.

“Did Dad mention the possibility of tourists trampling your flower beds?” I couldn’t see how any of this was a good idea.

“Oh, nonsense,” and she waved her hand as if tourists were not a concern. “The stone walkway will lead right to the shop. No trampling worries.”

I was surprised at her response. “Better ask Rachel and her mother about some of the rude folks they’ve encountered.”

But Mom was insistent. She was determined to open a cozy shop in the backyard. She was going to focus on antiques—the past—in order to handle the present, and possibly her future, too: life minus Faithie. I was convinced more than ever that losing Faithie was behind all this talk.

I finished my homework in two hours—record time. Then I called Chelsea. My lousy behavior had begun to gnaw at my conscience. I wanted to apologize for my outburst at school. But she wasn’t at home, so I called Lissa. “Any idea where Chelsea is?” I asked.

“How should I know?”

“She’s gotta be around SummerHill somewhere,” I mumbled into the phone. It made no sense for me to ask Lissa where Chelsea was because Chelsea Davis lived up the hill from
me
. And Lissa lived miles away.

“Why don’t you just call Jon?” Lissa suggested. “That’s who you
really
want to talk to, right?”

Lissa knew me well. I smiled into the phone. “I don’t know what to say to him. He wasn’t very talkative on the bus today…morning or afternoon.”

“Start with Levi Zook. Get it out in the open. Let Jon hear it from you that Levi’s out of the picture.”

“I thought you told Jon in study hall,” I said.

“Sure, but—”

“What did Jon say?”

Lissa sighed into the phone. “To tell you the truth, Mer, he only nodded his head.”

“Like he didn’t believe you?”

“You could say that.” She paused, then continued. “I really think you should call him.”

I was surprised at Lissa’s persistence. This was very different for her. “Okay, I will…later. Right now I’ve got something important to do.”

“More important than your
boyfriend
? I can’t believe this. What could be so important?” She really wanted to know, but I wasn’t telling. “I thought we were super close, Mer,” she said, sounding less confident.

“We are,” I assured her. “Lighten up, Lissa.”

She was silent for a moment, then giggled a little. “Did you say what I think you said?”

“Yeah. So?”

“But you quit the Alliteration Game, right?”

“Yeah, I quit.”

“Except you just did it…again.”

She was right. “Oh that. Well, for some reason it seems to fly out of my mouth automatically every now and then.”

“Maybe that’s because it’s a part of who you are after all this time.”

Funny how Lissa’s comment fit right into what I’d been thinking about Levi Zook.

After all this time
…

Levi was a big part of my life, too. How could I let him slip out of it, smack-dab into Martha’s?

I could hear Lissa’s mom calling her in the background, so we said good-bye and hung up. I was glad our conversation ended with Lissa’s explanation of why she thought I was still alliterating my words. Much better than pleading with me for answers. I hadn’t told her the cool thing Jon had said not too long ago.
“You’re the Alliteration Queen,”
he’d announced one day. Where that particular thought came from, I didn’t know. Anyway, it was small consolation at the moment.

Fact was, both Jon and Levi had been a huge part of my life. And for a very long time. Levi and I, however, went back a few years further than Jon and I. Still, it was terribly unnerving to care so much for two boys. At the same time!

Rachel Zook came over before supper. “Jingle won’t take the bottle from any of us,” Rachel said, her blue eyes earnest as can be. “She needs you, Merry.”

“I’m coming,” I said and then called to Mom over my shoulder. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Where are you going?” she said, coming into the kitchen.

“I’m ‘on call’ at the Zook farm,” I told her, laughing.

The air was as sweet and clean as fresh laundry hung out to dry. And as Rachel and I ran through the yard to SummerHill Lane and then into the willow grove, a peculiar thought hit me. What would Mom do about her clothesline if customers were coming and going at her antique shop? Would she give up one of life’s simple pleasures to accommodate shoppers? I couldn’t imagine her dumping clothes into an electric dryer, except during inclement weather. I made a mental note to ask her.

“Something on your mind?” Rachel asked halfway through the abundant thicket of willow trees and vegetation.

“Oh, it’s my mother. She’s having some sort of a midlife crisis.”

“What’s
that
?”

“Well, she’s almost fifty. Thinks life is passing her by, I guess. That’s how my dad explained it.”

Rachel slowed her pace to a stroll. We walked single file down past the tallest trees, turning toward the meadow that led to the Zooks’ barnyard. “Never heard of such a thing, really,” Rachel said. “Maybe it’s something
Englischers
get.”

“You’re probably right,” I said with a chuckle. Middle-aged Amish folk didn’t have time to feel sorry about their children growing up and going to college. They were too busy raising the tail end of a long line of children. No empty-nest syndrome till the grandchildren started coming on. Besides that, most of their young people never went off to college because the bishops didn’t allow education past the eighth grade. A Plain wife didn’t have to worry about early retirement for her husband. Amish farmers, carpenters, and blacksmiths worked up until God called them home. Or until they couldn’t physically work any longer. That’s the way it was in the Anabaptist community.

“Is your mother gonna be all right?” asked Rachel. “Is she seein’ a doctor?”

I stifled a laugh. “It’s not as serious as that. Mom’s going to start up an antique shop in our backyard. It’ll give her something to keep her mind off herself.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” Rachel replied, looking more confused than before. “Maybe I can help tend the store sometimes.”

Leave it to Rachel to offer. “I’m sure Mom would love to have some expert help.”

“Expert?”

“Well, you know, all the experience you have from your fruit and vegetable stands.”

“Oh, I see what you’re sayin’.”

We climbed over the fence that divided the open pastureland from the side yard. That’s when I spied a Mennonite girl hanging out clothes on the line behind the Zooks’ farmhouse. “Is that Levi’s girlfriend?” I whispered.

“Jah,” answered Rachel. “Come, I’ll introduce you.”

I felt myself holding back, feeling suddenly shy. I wasn’t sure why, but I put on a smile. “Sure, that’d be nice,” I said, following Rachel to the wide backyard.

We walked right up to the clothesline. The young woman was clearly a strict Mennonite. The hem of her floral print dress came well below her knees. Her hair was a lighter brown than Rachel’s, more like the color of ripened wheat. And her bright brown eyes—you couldn’t help but notice the sparkle.

“Martha, I want you to meet my friend Merry Hanson,” said Rachel. “Merry lives past the willow grove across the way.” She pointed toward my house, to the west, then turned to me. “And, Merry, this is Martha Martin from the Mennonite college in Virginia, where Levi goes to school.”

“Hello, Merry,” Martha Martin said, extending her hand.

“Nice to meet you,” I said, wondering why Rachel hadn’t simply said Martha was Levi’s girlfriend.

“SummerHill is a beautiful place,” Martha was saying. Her smile was contagious. Actually, everything about her was delightful. I could see why Levi had fallen in love. “How long have you lived here, Merry?” she asked.

“My whole life, pretty much.”

“Then you’ve been friends with Rachel for a long time?”

I glanced at Rachel, who was nodding and grinning at me. “Since we were toddlers, I guess you could say.”

Rachel spoke up. “All us kids were good friends with Merry and her brother, Skip.”

“And Faithie, too,” I added.

Rachel’s eyes softened, and she tilted her head against the sun. “Faithie was Merry’s twin sister,” she said.

It was uncanny, because Martha really didn’t have to be told that Faithie had died. I guess the way Rachel said “Faithie
was
Merry’s twin sister” gave it away.

“I’m sorry about your sister,” Martha replied. She was so sweet and gentle spirited. As much as I might’ve wanted to be upset with her for latching on to Levi, I simply couldn’t be. She was the perfect choice for a former Amish boy called into the ministry.

After I gave Jingle her nursing bottle—and she drank every drop—I headed home, alone. This time, I stopped in the middle of the willow grove and sat on a dead tree stump in the secret place. I thought about meeting Martha Martin, the amazing Mennonite maid.

When I saw Levi again, I would tell him what a wonderful girl she was. I would congratulate him, too.

It was really the weirdest thing, but my twinges and stabs were actually starting to go away. How could I be so back and forth about things?

I caught up with Chelsea at Wednesday night Bible study, before church in the girls’ rest room. “I tried to call you after school,” I said.

She didn’t bother to turn away from the mirror, but our eyes caught all the same.

“Look, I don’t blame you for being upset,” I continued. “I shouldn’t have freaked out like that.”

“No kidding,” she muttered.

“I’m sorry, Chelsea. It won’t happen again.”

She smirked.

Several girls and their mother came in then. I knew we’d have to finish the one-sided conversation later. Anyway, it was obvious Chelsea wasn’t in the mood to forgive me any time soon.

“Can we talk later?” I pleaded.

She acted as if she hadn’t heard me, same as before.

“Chelsea?”

She turned and glared at me. “Tomorrow,” she whispered and left.

I washed my hands without ever looking in the mirror.

It was late in the day when I went outside in my pajamas and looked up at the sky. Shadrach and Meshach had followed me. I knew it wouldn’t be long before the other cats would come, too. It was almost completely dark as I sat on the back steps, thinking about what the future held for me. For my friends, too.