SummerHill Secrets, Volume 2 (36 page)

“Is she thinking of leaving the Amish, like Levi did?” Mom asked.

Now was my chance to mark the difference between Levi and his silly sister. “Levi’s called to be a minister,” I insisted.

Dad wiped his mouth with a napkin and looked at me without a reply.

“Rachel has other things on her mind. And it has nothing to do with seeking the Lord for her future, that’s for sure.”

Mom’s brown eyes were serious. “What a shame.”

“Not only that—she’s confused,” I blurted. “Rachel doesn’t really know what she wants.”

Dad sipped his herbal tea and then said, “I’ve passed her on the road riding with Matthew Yoder in his courting buggy a time or two.”

I nodded. “That’s probably the biggest hurt. At least for Matthew.
She’s
all mixed up, but
he
loves her.”

Mom leaned back in her chair. “Well, most likely your friend will come to her senses in good time.”

“I hope so…before it’s too late.” I was thinking about Jon’s offer to take her for a soda. Tomorrow! If he could straighten her out, I’d be ever grateful. But if he couldn’t, I’d have to push Levi even harder for answers in my next letter. Maybe even tell him outright who was worrying me so.

Worse, I felt truly responsible for the whole mess. If I just hadn’t given in to Rachel’s first request—taking her picture in the haymow—maybe none of this would be happening.

Chelsea was waiting for me at my locker on Wednesday morning. “What’s with the Wizard?” she said.

“Jon?”

She nodded. “He’s acting so-o weird.”

“What else is new?”

“He’s all dressed up, like he’s going to church or something,” she told me.

Then I knew. “Oh, that.”

“What?”

“Hey,” I laughed. “That’s
my
line.”

“So tell me. Why’s he wearing a button-down shirt and nice jeans to school?”

“It’s Rachel…they have a date this afternoon.”

She grabbed her throat. “Tell me you’re kidding!”

“Actually, I’m not. It was my idea.”

She studied me, her eyes narrowing slowly. “You set it up? Are you crazy?”

“For a very good cause,” I said. “Trust me.”

“Whatever.”

We walked to homeroom together, and as we did, I tried to make her understand the strange things going on with Rachel.

“She’s freaking out—like a bird let out of a cage for the first time.”

“Hmm. I wonder what it would be like, feeling imprisoned like that.”

“Well, I’m hoping Jon can help her somehow. At least, that’s my plan.”

She pushed me aside comically, primping in my tiny locker mirror. “Let’s hope he doesn’t decide to join up with her People and become Amish.” She stepped back, the biggest smile spreading across her face. “Hey! An Amish Alliteration Wizard—not bad.”

I laughed, knowing without a shadow of a doubt
that
would never happen.

“Shh! Here he comes now,” I said, darting into homeroom. Chelsea followed close behind, and I took great pleasure in scrutinizing Jon’s attire.

Chelsea wasn’t kidding. He was dressed up really nice. For a split second I felt envious, wishing he’d taken such pains to impress
me
.

He waved and smiled. I did the same, reaching for my assignment notebook, thumbing through its pages. The thought that I had no one to blame but myself for the way I felt continued to haunt me all through homeroom and beyond.

By the end of the school day, I was literally a wreck. Not only that, Jon was absolutely not allowing himself to be sucked into any of my many attempts to get him to alliterate.

“Is it true? Are you really bored with it?” I asked after last-period class.

“Off and on, I guess.”

“Well, I don’t get it. Just when I—
we
—were about to take you on with the championship and all. How could you bail out on us like that?”

He shrugged, picked up his books, and walked with me to the door. “To be honest with you, Merry, it was more fun when the game was our secret.”

“Oh.” I hadn’t ever considered that
he
would think of such a thing. But I was pleasantly surprised. And thinking back on what he’d just said made my heart skip a beat. Maybe there was still hope for Jon and me.

Then I remembered the after-school tête-à-tête I’d arranged for him with Rachel. What was I thinking?

Sighing, I said good-bye and headed off to my locker.

I was clicking off the numbers on my combination lock when Chelsea came up behind me. “Doing anything this minute?” she asked.

“Going home, that’s all. Got tons of homework.”

“I have an idea,” she said, pushing her thick auburn locks behind one ear. “Since I’ve got my mom’s car for the day, why don’t you ride home with me?”

“And?”

“We can do some spying first,” she said.

Genius! I saw right through her. “Good idea. Why didn’t
I
think of this?” We were off to Pinocchio’s, the cozy little corner cafe down the street. “Hey, do you mind if I run and pick up my photos first?”

A big grin stretched across her face. “Do I get a sneak preview?”

“All depends,” I said.

“On what?”

“If they turned out.”

She snorted. “You mean there’s a chance that the incredible photographer Merry Hanson could flub up a photo?”

I laughed with her, rushing into the drugstore.

As it turned out, most of the pictures were pretty good. Chelsea flipped through the stack as we situated ourselves at a table in the far end of Pinocchio’s. How we ever got inside without being noticed by either Jon or Rachel, I don’t know.

But we’d been very discreet, keeping our faces turned the other way.

Now that I sat here snooping on my friends, I wasn’t so sure we should’ve come. And I told Chelsea so.

“Aw, Merry, don’t be a spoilsport,” she scolded. “You’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

I had to admit, part of me was. Until Jon leaned across the table and covered Rachel’s hand with his own. Oh, and the lovely smile that burst across her face in response to it!

This wasn’t in the plan. Jon was supposed to encourage Rachel to be herself—follow the road of obedience to parents and God, not make her fall in love with him, for pete’s sake!

But it was too late. Sparks were flying, and I knew it by the way she never took her blue eyes off him. Soon, she was taking out a pen from the pocket of
my
jeans and writing something—probably her address—on a piece of paper.

I groaned and Chelsea decided it was time to split. “We oughta get going. No need to prolong the torture,” she said.

Reluctantly, I agreed, sliding out of the booth before the busy waitress ever got around to taking our orders. “Whatever we do, we can’t let Jon and Rachel see us,” I warned Chelsea.

Miraculously, we were able to slip away through a back exit. Home free!

Hours later, Rachel stopped by to see me. I suppose it was timely, too, because I had lots of pictures to show her.

I was in the middle of a math haze, deep in homework, when Mom called upstairs.

“Send her up.” I closed my book, wondering what Rachel wanted with me after having spent the afternoon with Jon. Was she going to fill me in on every detail? I curled my toes in my socks, hoping not.

“Hullo, Cousin Merry,” she said, breezing into my room.

“Wanna see some pictures?” I asked, pulling them out of the envelope.

Eyes bright, she sat on my bed, examining each shot, holding them as though they were priceless. Guess I might’ve felt the same way if I’d never seen myself in a photograph.

“Which one do you like best?” I asked.

She held up the one where her hair was free, without the veiling.

“I should’ve known you’d pick that one,” I said, chuckling.

“This was hilarity, highly hidden. Jah?”

“You like your hair down best?” I asked, wondering why she was talking so weird.

She nodded. “Hanging hair is happy hair.”

It hit me. “Did Jonathan teach you something today? A different way to talk?”

She absolutely beamed. “I wrote out words that started with
my
name…and his!”

Just great
, I thought, frustrated. They’d spent their time playing the word game. And Jon had said he was bored with it. What a line!

She took out a billfold and paid me for the pictures. “Can you give this picture to Jonathan tomorrow?” she asked, still studying the hayloft setting. “He says he’s anxious to get it.”

I’ll bet he is
, I fumed. But I didn’t say anything.

Here I’d thought getting Jon and Rachel together was the brightest thing I’d ever done. Wrong!

Still, I was stuck. “Sure, I’ll give him the picture,” I said. Then I got up the nerve to ask, “Did Jon say anything about your outfit, your makeup, or your styled hair?”

She glanced down at her feet. “Ach, not really. But he
did
say something kinda interesting.”

“What?”

“He said I should think about going out with him on a real date. If my parents wouldn’t mind.” Her eyes sparkled as she began to recount the afternoon.

Meanwhile, I was feeling rather limp inside. My plan to “save” Rachel from worldly English influences had completely backfired.

What would Levi think if he knew? I wouldn’t be the one to inform him, that was for sure. And Chelsea? She’d be laughing in her soup.

He’d taught Rachel the word game mere minutes after telling me he was bored with it. How could he lie to me that way?

Who
could I turn to? And why did life have to be so complicated?

Rachel was right. Jon was thrilled to get her picture the next day. His face lit up like a neon sign as I handed it to him.

Hurt and a little more than mad, I turned to head for my locker.

“Whoa, Merry, wait up,” he called after me.

Stunned once again that he hadn’t used one of his favorite alliterated nicknames for me—
Mistress Merry
or
Merry, Mistress of Mirth
—I froze in place.

“Merry?”

Slowly, I turned around.

“Merry, what’s wrong?”

I glanced down at the photo of my Amish girl friend in his hand. Swallowing the anger away, I put on a smile. “Have fun alliterating—Amish style,” I said.

“So…you heard?” He looked quite sheepish, as if he’d been caught with his hand in a cookie jar.

“Maybe you’re just what Rachel needs to get her through this time in her life.” I stared him down—literally. “Well, gotta run.”

And I did. Scrambled right through the crowd of students and found a safe haven at my locker.

Right after school, Nancy and Ella Mae Zook, Rachel’s younger sisters, showed up at my back door. They had on matching green dresses and black pinafore-style aprons under their long black woolen shawls. “Do ya have a minute?” Nancy, the fourteen-year-old, asked.

“Come in.” I led them into the kitchen.

Ella Mae, almost ten, whispered, “Can we go someplace more private?”

Now I was worried. “Is this about Rachel?”

They nodded simultaneously.

Without further comment, I motioned them into the small sitting room off the kitchen. Closing the door behind me, I offered them a seat. I stood, however, bracing myself for what was to come.