SummerHill Secrets, Volume 1 (58 page)

“I really like your car.” I wasn’t kidding. It was really cool. The Levi of the past obviously had incorporated his passion for wheels into this modern-day form of transportation. I knew even as I stood there waving that if Charity weren’t in the middle of my life, I’d be saying absolutely yes to a drive with Levi.

I watched him drive his shiny car down SummerHill and park it quite a ways past his father’s farm. What a guy! He’d had the gumption to make the break from the Amish for his own beliefs’ sake, and the sake of spreading the Gospel. Yet he was careful to show respect to his parents by not flaunting—as he said—his modern wheels and his decision to go to Bible school. I admired him with renewed interest. I could hardly wait for our talk.

Dad showed up soon after Levi left, and I ran out to the driveway to meet him.

“When will we know if Charity can be ours?” was the first thing out of my mouth.

“Well,” he chuckled, “it’s nice to see you, too.”

I apologized. “But I’m dying to find out something. How long do we have to wait before Charity’s free to adopt?”

“Patience, Merry,” he chided gently.

“It’s too hard to be patient sometimes,” I admitted.

“Why not enjoy Charity while we have her?”

“But what if she has to go back…to her family?” The thought nearly killed me.

“We’ll deal with that when and if the time comes,” he stated, and I knew he hoped it would never happen. We walked into the house together. “Your mother should be home any minute now. What do you say we surprise her and make supper?” It was a great idea. Only one problem: Dad didn’t know the first thing about cooking.

“Guess we’re talking pizza, right?” I teased.

He grinned. “You make the salad. I’ll preheat the oven.”

“Count on it.” I went to the fridge and pulled out some salad fixings. Dad was in an interesting mood, one I hadn’t seen in ages. I hoped his sparkling, fun-loving attitude would last, but I honestly wondered how he’d feel tomorrow afternoon—when we visited Faithie’s grave.

I rushed to the back door when I heard Mom coming. Eagerly, I scooped up Charity from the new car seat and hurried back into the kitchen. Dad and I had set the table, complete with candles. The mood was festive—after all, we had a lot to be festive about.

“Charity needs to be in on our celebration,” I said.

“What celebration?” Mom asked.

“The let’s-enjoy-having-Charity-around-for-no-matter-howlong celebration,” I replied.

Mom looked puzzled at first. Then she glanced at Dad, whose contented expression must’ve helped her understand.

“Bring the little munchkin to me,” Dad said, holding out his arms. While he held her, I scrambled into the dining room to get the cradle. It was heavy—well constructed, too. Handmade by one of the Yoder boys’ Amish uncles before Faithie and I were born.

I carried it into the kitchen, setting it down in the middle of the room. “There,” I said, “now we can all see Charity while we eat.”

Mom went to wash her hands at the sink. “I’m afraid she won’t make it much longer. We’d better get started.”

“You mean she’s hungry?” I asked.

Mom dried her hands. “She certainly didn’t seem interested in eating while we waited our turn at Social Services. I ended up putting a blanket down on the floor and letting her kick her feet. She cooed and gurgled at everyone. Quite a social butterfly.”

I could visualize the scene. “I’ll bet you had tons of visitors swooning over her, right?”

Mom nodded. “You should’ve seen the people coming up and asking about her—how old she was, what was her name. Standard baby questions.” Mom smiled and went over to take Charity from Dad. “But, you know, I felt wonderful. Really wonderful.” Her eyes were moist as she looked at Dad. “Better than I have in years.”

I wondered exactly what Mom was thinking. The tender glances exchanged between my parents were apparently not meant to include me. But even though I was the outsider for the moment, something in me rejoiced as I stood in our familiar country kitchen in our old colonial house—the place my twin sister and I had come home to. The lines in my mother’s face had softened. Had Charity’s coming soothed her pain, too?

Once Charity was settled in her cradle perch, Dad prayed and we ate supper. He recounted the emergency room events of his day for Mom and me. Soon, Mom was going over every inch of her day spent with Charity and me, telling about Miss Spindler’s visit—and all the handmade booties—as well as every baby-related happening in the last nearly ten hours Dad had been gone.

I grinned, listening, and wondered how it had been in this grand old house when Faithie and I were babies. Before I could even bring it up, Mom started talking about the days of double everything.

“Goodness, I don’t know how I kept up with things.” She reached over and let her hand rest on top of mine. “Merry was the happiest baby. She could entertain herself for hours at a time.” Mom smiled, reliving the days.

“That’s why you named me Merry, right?”

“You never cried when you were born,” she explained. “At least, it didn’t sound like crying.”

Dad agreed. “You laughed…chortled, I guess you’d say.”

“Chortled?” This was the first I’d heard my birth described
that
way.

Dad rubbed his chin. “You’re not going to argue with me, are you? After all, I was there—I know what I heard.” Dad was laughing now, and Mom, too. Charity started to join in, at least that’s how it sounded at first, but her fussy cooings gave way to hearty cries.

“Uh-oh,” Mom said, turning around. “Another country heard from.” She warmed up the baby’s formula while Dad and I argued over who would get to feed her. Dad won out, but only because I let him. I knew it wouldn’t be long before he’d be sound asleep in his easy chair. Then it would be my turn!

“I can’t wait till Charity’s finally ours,” I said, watching Dad hold the baby with bottle tilted up.

Mom didn’t say anything, but in a few seconds, Dad did. Again, his words were measured and directed toward Mom. “Have you decided what you want to do if Charity becomes available for adoption?”

A wistful look played around Mom’s lips. “Well, hon, I’ve been praying about it, but I think we should talk—”

The phone rang.

“I’ll get it,” I said, jumping up. “Hello?”

“Hullo, Merry. This is Levi.”

I laughed, stretching the phone cord around the corner into the dining room. “I know who you are.”

“Well, didja have a chance to ask?”

Ask?
Once again, I’d forgotten. Charity was taking over my entire life!

“Merry, I wanna see ya.” His voice was mellow and sweet.

“Uh…just a minute.” I covered up the phone and went back into the kitchen. However, I had to wait to ask until Dad quit kissing Mom—on the lips. “Excuse me,” I said when they looked up. “Is it okay if I go for a ride in Levi’s new car?”

Mom’s head jerked back. “Not
this
again.”

Dad wasn’t going to get in the middle of anything. I could tell by the way his eyes darted away from mine and back to the business at hand—feeding Charity.

“But, Mom,” I retorted. “He’s a very good driver.”

She grimaced. “Since when?”

“Since he…well, you know,” I sputtered, trying to quickly remind them that Levi’s wild horse-and-buggy days were over.

“Where is it you want to go?” she asked.

“Oh, down to the Dairy Queen or to get a soda somewhere.”

I sighed. “Levi and I
have
to talk, Mom. He’s leaving for school in two weeks.”

“Two weeks?” She stood up, beginning to clear the table.

“Please? We won’t be gone long.”

“Well, it’s Saturday night, and you have plenty to do here at home to get ready for church tomorrow.”

“So, can I go?”

She glanced at her watch. “Be home by nine-thirty.”

“Yes!” I turned back to the phone. “Levi? I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes,” I said, trying not to let the excitement creep into my voice.

“
Gut,
Merry. I’ll be by to pick you up at eight.”

We said good-bye and hung up.

“Levi seems awfully persistent,” Mom said, glancing up while loading the dishwasher.

“He goes after what he wants, but he knows when to back off, too,” I said, sticking up for my friend. “That’s what true love’s all about, right? Knowing when to back off—to let go.”

My remark was not well taken. But it got Dad’s attention. “Sounds like you’ve been reading poetry again,” he said, smiling. “But you’re right. True love is patient and slow to act or react. Levi’s been trained in the Scriptures all his life. He’s seen love in action in the Amish community, that’s for certain.”

It struck me that Dad was taking Levi’s side!

“Then you wouldn’t mind if I agreed to wait for Levi while he goes to Bible school?” It was a test. I had to know what Dad would say.

Mom gasped in the background, but she remained silent while Dad burped the baby, talking to me. “Wait for Levi, you say? Well, how do you feel about waiting around for him when you’re only sixteen—”

“Fifteen,”
Mom interrupted. “She won’t be sixteen until September.”

Dad jumped right in and began painting a picture of high school and the many activities looming on the horizon of my sophmore year. “Now, think of this, Mer. How would it be staying home and writing letters to Levi while your girl friends are out with guy friends at football games and homecoming parades?”

Dad had a point. He
always
did.

“I guess I’ll just have to see if Levi wants to be tied down to a
fifteen
-year-old”—here I glanced at Mom, who caught the emphasis—“ while he’s off having a great time getting a taste of college life in the modern world.”

“Levi’s almost seventeen now,” Mom offered. “Even though you’re only a year apart, there’s a big difference between high school and college. Levi will be living as an adult.”

Once again, Mom was overexplaining. She was the commentator of the family and probably would’ve continued, but Charity let out a loud burp. Dad congratulated Charity, and Mom came rushing over to make sure she hadn’t spit up on Dad’s shirt.

“Have fun, baby,” I called to her, blowing a kiss. “I love you.” And without offering to help with dishes, I headed upstairs to get my hair and face ready for the all-important chat with Levi.

When the doorbell rang, I waited for Dad to get it. He liked to play host. He and Levi would sit in the living room and shoot the breeze for a while. Then in a few minutes, I’d come down. We’d had the same scenario twice before when Levi had come to take me for a walk.

I was standing at the top of the long main staircase, thinking it was about time to go down and make my appearance. The sun winked on the brass top of the banister, and I counted to ten.

The phone rang; someone picked it up downstairs. Then I heard Mom’s voice floating up the back steps. “Merry, the phone’s for you.”

Not wanting to keep Levi waiting, I dashed down the hall to my parents’ bedroom. “Hello?”

“Merry, Mistress of Mirth! I’ve missed many, many merry moments with you.” It was Jon Klein, the Alliteration Wizard!

“Hi,” I said. “You must be back from your vacation.”

“Say that with all
b
’s,” he said, laughing.

“I’d love to, but I really can’t talk right now.” What lousy timing!

“Let’s see…likely not—Levi?”

How’d he know?
I wondered.

“Well, actually, you’re right. Levi’s waiting downstairs.” I wanted to be honest with him. “He and I have some things to discuss.”

“Super-serious stuff?”

I paused to think. Jon’s alliterating was bugging me—for the first time ever! “Could you stop talking that way and…and…”

“And what? What’s wrong, Mer?” His voice was filled with question marks.

“I can’t talk now, honest I can’t,” I said again. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“
Maybe?
You mean you’re not coming to church?”

“I didn’t mean that,” I said. “I just meant—oh, never mind. Just forget it.”

“Merry, wait.” He sounded worried that I might hang up. “Can’t we talk for a minute?”

“I’d like that,” I said. “But I can’t now. See ya.”

His voice was still coming through the receiver as I held the phone in my hand, deciding whether or not to hang up. Then, feeling guilty, I brought the phone back up to my ear and listened.

“Merry? Are you still there?” he was asking.

“I’m here. Sorry.”

“Hey, I called to invite you to the church potluck next weekend.” His voice wavered a bit.

I was in shock. This was the first time Jon had formally asked me to anything. How long I had waited for this moment?

“So, what’s it gonna be, Mistress Merry?”

My life was being ripped into pieces. Into thirds, actually. Jovial Jon, for one. And there was Levi—waiting downstairs to discuss our “future.” Last, but certainly not least, a big chunk of my life was already wrapped up in Charity, my precious sister-gift from God.

As I held the phone, I felt a distinct tugging in my heart. I couldn’t even begin to respond. Jon was waiting for my answer. Levi was downstairs.

The next move was mine. Help!