SummerHill Secrets, Volume 2 (58 page)
I eyed the fabric. It was an easy choice. “Definitely the stripes,” I said, imagining the room painted and furnished with display tables.
“Merry’s partial to stripes,” Mom told Miss Spindler.
Miss Spindler tilted her head. “Oh, is that so?”
I nodded. “You should see my room. Stripes are everywhere.”
“Well, to tell you the honest truth, I think the floral material is a bit too much.” Ruby Spindler grinned broadly.
Mom was smiling, too. “Thanks for your input, Merry.”
“Anything else I can help with?” I offered, noticing Miss Spindler’s kitten had wandered into the yard and was about to encounter Abednego—king of kitties! “Yee-ikes,” I said, buzzing off to avert a
cat
astrophe!
Quickly, I scooped up the kitten. My big cat arched his black furry back and hissed. “That’s not polite,” I scolded him. “You’ve got company today.”
Meow!
Abednego protested, still arched and ready for a hissy fit.
“You need to mind your manners, young man,” I continued. “We’re going to have many more visitors pretty soon.
Customers
.”
My oldest cat wasn’t too wild about that information. He turned and slinked low like he was checking around for a mouse-y meal. Then he made a beeline for the gazebo. His favorite hideout.
“Sorry about that,” I whispered to the kitty. “Abednego thinks he simply
has
to be top dog at all times.”
“Who’re you talking to?” Mom said, poking her head out of one of the windows in her new shop.
I held up the kitten. “Miss Spindler’s kitty cat. What’s her name, anyway?” I asked.
Mom disappeared momentarily. Soon, both Mom and Miss Spindler were smiling at me. “She doesn’t have a name yet,” our neighbor said. “What’s she look like to
you
, dearie? Is she a Gertie or a Missy?”
“Neither one,” I said, taking a good look at her. “Shadow. She looks like a shadow.”
Mom clapped her hands. “You’re right!”
Miss Spindler agreed. “Then
Shadow
it is.”
I sat in the grass, soaking up the sunshine with Shadow in my lap. “Life is full of sunshine and shadows,” I said. “You’re a good reminder for all of us.”
The kitten looked up at me and smiled. Well, at least, I
think
it was a smile.
Ashley Horton gave me the biggest hug ever when I arrived at her house for the sleepover. “We’re going to play the Word Game tonight,” she announced.
Chelsea was nodding, her arms folded across her chest. “She’s not kidding, Mer. Ashley’s not going to let us sleep till we each come up with at least four words in a row.”
“They have to make a sentence,” Lissa said, her hair in a perky ponytail.
I put down my overnight case. “Well, let’s see…”
“Wait a minute. There’s one minor detail missing from this assignment,” Ashley said, twirling her hair with her finger. “The alliteration has to be about a boy.”
“Oh, not
that
!” Chelsea pretended to choke herself.
I let the others play the game for a while, thinking back to all the energy I’d put into the word wars with Jon for almost two years. The girls might not understand why I’d abandoned the bantering, but it had nothing to do with them.
As I listened to Lissa trying to alliterate four words, I couldn’t wait to invite Jon to see Jingle. To take pictures of the darling lamb and Ol’ Nanna. Maybe I’d take my camera, too, and secretly shoot Jon taking a picture! What a great photo that would be!
I must’ve been smiling because Ashley threw a pillow at me. “You’re daydreaming, Merry. So…it’s your turn!”
I thought for a moment. Could I do it?
“Remember, it has to be about a boy,” Ashley reminded me, sitting cross-legged on the floor.
“Levi loves life lots,” I said.
Lissa burst out laughing, but Ashley was silent. “How does she do that?” Ashley said.
Chelsea looked solemn. “Levi’s leaving?”
“Mennonite Martha Martin may be marrying my man.…”
“
Your
man?” Lissa gasped. “Surely you don’t mean—”
“No, I’m not brokenhearted. Not at all,” I explained, abandoning the game. “I’m actually happy for Levi and Martha.”
“So…are you saying you met her?” Chelsea asked.
“I took their engagement pictures in the Zooks’ rose garden this afternoon,” I said.
“No way,” Chelsea replied.
They were all bug-eyed. Like they couldn’t believe it.
“Make some alliteration about Jon Klein,” Ashley said, eyes wide.
I shook my head. “I could, but I won’t. How I feel about Jon is private stuff.”
Lissa and Chelsea were grinning at me. “
Oooh
, I guess we know where Merry stands with the Klein-man,” Chelsea teased.
They burst into laughter, but I didn’t mind. Tomorrow I would invite Jon to meet Jingle Belle. And if it was an exceptionally beautiful day, I would take my tripod along and make a picture of the three of us.
I could just see it now….
17
When all was said and done, we talked and giggled and ate popcorn till we were so tired we couldn’t keep our eyes open anymore.
As for Jon, I had the best time showing him around the Zooks’ dairy farm the next day. We explored every nook and cranny in the barn. And my favorite place in the world: the hayloft. He took oodles of pictures—mules, hand-hewn plows, even the barn rafters. I had to laugh, wondering if maybe Jon was becoming a little
too
interested in farm life.
He and I spent an hour playing with Jingle Belle. He also helped me set up the tripod for a picture. It turned out so well, Mom suggested I frame it. So I’m going to hang it in my photo gallery, on my bedroom wall. That way, I’ll never forget the special day.
I have a feeling there are lots more days like that ahead. Jon and I are truly becoming best friends. “A deep and caring friendship is a good, solid basis for a serious dating relationship,” Dad said the other night.
Mom smiled her agreement.
I’m going along with Jon and his photography club to the Susquehanna River, after all. He asked if I’d bring
my
camera, too. “You could be president of the club, Merry. You’re a natural,” he said, flashing his winning smile.
Dad says I’m old enough to start making decisions about who I spend time with. It’s great to know he trusts me. And I won’t disappoint him or Mom, that’s for sure.
The Antique Shoppe is darling, and we’ve already had more than twenty customers in just three days. Not a single one has mentioned the clothesline. In fact, my mother puts it to good use, displaying old doilies and quilted table runners. Pure genius!
Nearly every evening, I spend time with Mom. She and I have gotten much closer this summer. We’ve been baking zucchini bread and selling it. When I told Rachel about some of the baked goods we were marketing, she raised her eyebrows. I guess we
are
giving our Amish neighbors some competition.
Skip’s home from college for the summer. It’s actually great having my brother underfoot again. He still calls me names that allude to my cat obsession, but overall he’s becoming a cool guy. Guess that’s what growing up does for an obnoxious older brother.
Last I heard, Levi formally proposed to Martha Martin. The
Lancaster New Era
ran their engagement announcement, complete with the photo I took of them. I’m a bona-fide published photographer at last!
One of the Zooks’ cats had another litter. Rachel brought over a darling yellow kitten as a thank-you for nursing Jingle back to health. I knew better than to ask Mom. Still, the kitten reminds me of a drop of sunshine. I’m thinking of talking to Miss Spindler about taking another pet. It would be so cute: Sunshine and Shadow, purring together under the same roof.
Sunshine and Shadow
…That’s also the name of a very popular Pennsylvania Amish quilt pattern. It says a lot about life.
I’ve accepted my share of shadows. Without them, I probably wouldn’t appreciate the sunshine. With God’s help, I’ve come a long way since I set up the before-and-after pictures in a SummerHill cemetery.
A truly long way.
I’m delighted that you’re reading SummerHill Secrets. Merry Hanson is such a fascinating character—I can’t begin to count the times I laughed while writing her humorous scenes. And I must admit, I always cry with her.
Not so long ago, I was Merry’s age, growing up in Lancaster County, the home of the Pennsylvania Dutch—my birthplace. My grandma Buchwalter was a Mennonite, as were many of my mother’s aunts, uncles, and cousins. Some of my school friends were also Mennonite, so my interest and appreciation for the Plain folk began early.
It is they, the Mennonite and Amish people—farmers, carpenters, blacksmiths, shopkeepers, quiltmakers, teachers, schoolchildren, and bed-and-breakfast owners—who best assisted me with the research for this series. Even though I have kept their identity private, I am thankful for these wonderfully honest and helpful friends.
To learn more about my writing, sign up for my e-newsletter, or contact me, visit my Web site,
www.beverlylewis.com
.
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