SummerHill Secrets, Volume 1 (42 page)

“It’s almost the Fourth, you know. Just wanted to do something nice for Ruby Spindler.”

I headed out the back door and past the white gazebo in our yard. Old Hawk Eyes was sitting on her patio thumbing through a craft magazine when I arrived.

“Well, hello there, dearie.” She got up from her chaise lounge. “How’s every little thing?”

“Fine, thanks.” I held out the pie. “Mom made this for you.”

She peeked inside the basket. “Ah…my very favorite.” Turning back to me, she said, “Well, now, Miss Merry, you tell that mama of yours a big thank you. Ya hear?”

I nodded. “I will. And you have a nice Fourth of July.”

“Well, I certainly hope to,” she replied. “And you…you will, too, won’tcha, dear?” A curious expression crossed her wrinkled face. “But of course, the Amish don’t celebrate
that
holiday, do they?”

Now I was the one with the curious look.

“Honey-girl, don’t look so surprised,” she went on. “Everyone round here knows ’bout you and that Zook boy. Personally, I think it’s kinda sweet—if I say so myself.”

“Excuse me, Miss Spindler,” I said. “What is it everyone knows?”

Her mouth drooped. “Well, I’ll be…” She paused. “You really don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, do you, darlin’?”

I could see this had the potential for turning into a long, drawnout conversation, and I certainly didn’t want to feed her gossip column with my personal views and opinions. It was flat-out none of her beeswax about Levi and me!

She tilted her head to one side. “Are you all right?”

“Just fine, thanks. Now, if you don’t mind, I better go.”

My heart pounded heavily as I ran across her backyard and down the slope to ours. I could never be sure, but I was almost positive Miss Spindler was watching my every move. I could feel her eyes boring into me. That’s what the old lady was all about. That’s why Skip and I, and Rachel and Levi—all of us—called her Old Hawk Eyes.

Knowing how she was, I should’ve dismissed her outrageous comments for what they were. Outrageous and absolutely false. But for some reason, I let her words sink into me long into the afternoon, on until it was time to meet Levi after milking.

“Wilkom, Merry,” he said as I came into the barn.

“Hi.” I spied the long rope in the hayloft. It was the same rope Levi had been swinging on when I said I’d be his girl.

“Was ist letz?”
he asked. “What is wrong?”

I looked around to see if we were alone. “Is it safe to talk here?”

He took off his straw hat and wiped his forehead. “Dat will be comin’ in soon, so best hurry.”

I didn’t waste any time. “I’m sorry, Levi, but I’m not going anywhere with you in your buggy tonight.”

His eyebrows shot up.

“Your family’s concerned…they don’t want me to be your girlfriend.”

He put his hat back on. “I hear in your voice that there’s more to it, jah?”

I sighed. “Everyone’s talking, Levi. People who don’t even know you—and others—are saying things.”

“Ach, what things?”

I moved closer to him. “That you’re thinking of leaving the Amish.” I studied him closely, tracing with my eyes every familiar angle of his tan face. This fantastically handsome face I’d known since I was a kid. “Is it true?”

“You will be the first to know,” he said confidently, as though he’d already made up his mind. He reached for my hand. “There’s so much I wanna tell ya.”

Gently, I pulled my hand away, and it was a good thing, too, because just then Abe Zook came into the barn the back way, through the cow door.

“We hafta talk more,” he said with serious eyes, and I knew by the tone of his voice it couldn’t wait.

No matter what, I would meet Levi later tonight. With or without the buggy ride.

At dusk, I took my poetry books over to Grandfather Zook. He was sitting with his wife in the front yard when I came. For more than an hour, they watched Susie and me catch fireflies. This time we filled nearly three-fourths of each jar. When we returned, we showed our bug-lanterns to Grandfather Zook.

“
Des
gut,” he said, holding the jars in his calloused hands. “God has put His light in these here critters.”

“Jah!” Susie said, grinning at me. “Now we hafta let ’em go.”

“So soon?” I stared at the twinkling lights in my glass jar. “We just caught them.”

“Maybe it’s time for me to read ya my poem,” Grandfather said. He grunted a bit as he got out of his lawn chair. Grandma Zook followed him up to the porch and waited along with us.

Soon, he was back carrying a pad of yellow-lined paper. “Here we are.” And he sat down in his old hickory rocker.

Susie crept in closer and sat at her grandfather’s feet. She pulled her knees up under her chin, her long dress and pinafore apron billowing out over her bare feet.

Grandfather peered over the top of his glasses. “Now, when I do this”—and here he pointed to us—“both of you let your fireflies go.”

“Okay!” Susie cried, obviously enjoying the dramatic prospect. “We’re going to act out Grossdawdy’s poem.” She giggled.

Her grandfather waited without speaking, and Susie settled down. Then he began to read:

“Night of the Fireflies”
by Jacob Zook

’Tis the night when martins sing,
’Tis the night for crows to caw,
And dusk comes soft on tiptoes,
In time for the firefly ball.
Come one, come all,
To the firefly ball.
Dance with ’em, laugh with ’em,
Run straight and tall.
’Tis the night when fireflies blink,
’Tis the night for stars to fall,
And dusk comes wearing red satin,
To await the firefly ball.
Come one, come all,
To the firefly ball.
Dance with ’em, laugh with ’em,
Run straight and tall.

Grandfather pointed to us and we knew it was the cue to set our fireflies free. We opened our canning jars, releasing a spray of dazzling light as he read the third verse.

’Tis the night of the fireflies,
’Tis the night of grand light,
And dusk wears honeysuckle,
To dance at the firefly ball.
Come one, come all,
To the firefly ball.
Fly with ’em, flit with ’em,
Run straight and tall.

He stopped reading and set his pad down in his lap. “It seems to me there oughta be one more verse.” He looked a little dreamy eyed.

“Wow,” I whispered. “I think it’s great just the way it is!”

“I told ya,” Susie said, jumping up. “Grandfather’s a real poet.”

I was curious. “How did you learn to write poetry?”

“Oh, every now and again I’ll scribble some things down,” Grandfather said. “Sometimes the words just seem to fit together.” He sighed audibly.

It was getting late, and Levi would soon be coming for me. I hated to disturb the serene moment but said my good-byes to Susie and her grandfather. “Keep my poetry books as long as you like,” I said before leaving.

“Denki,” Grandfather said, waving. “Come again, jah?”

“I will,” I promised, hurrying down the Zooks’ lane to Summer-Hill. I thought of Susie and the fun we’d had. And Grandfather Zook’s lovely poem. Now, what on earth was Levi going to discuss with me?

An hour later, a light splashed on my bedroom window. When I stuck my head out to investigate, I saw Levi below with a flashlight. “Can ya talk now?” he asked.

“Meet me in the gazebo,” I said and hurried downstairs.

Mom and Dad were relaxing, watching TV in the family room when I headed for the kitchen for some matches.

“Where’re you off to?” Mom called.

“I’ll be in the backyard,” I said, taking the matches along to light the citronella candles that kept the mosquitoes away. I didn’t say why I was going or who I was going to meet. But Mom was smart about things—she’d probably already figured it out.

I heard Skip snicker. “Be sure and take your dumb cats with you. Maybe they’ll scare your boyfriend away.”

“Whatever.” I closed the screen door behind me. They had no idea what they were saying. Levi was the sweetest, kindest boy I’d ever known.

He sat on the gazebo step, waiting. Shadows from the giant maples surrounding the white latticework played around him. I couldn’t see him clearly at first. Then, when I was within a few feet, I caught a clear glimpse. Levi was wearing contemporary clothes!

“What on earth?” I said.

His hair had been cut and styled weeks ago, so that was nothing new, but the blue jeans and button-down short-sleeve shirt…well, this new look was completely unsettling. Levi Zook could’ve passed for any other modern kid around!

“Whaddaya think?” he asked.

I avoided his question. “What does this mean?”

“It only means that I’m trying on English ways.”

My throat felt dry. Was this what he meant earlier today? Was this the way I would be the first to know?

“I hope this doesn’t have anything to do with me.” I didn’t want to sound presumptuous.

“Don’tcha worry, Merry. I’ve been thinkin’ about this for as long as I can remember.”

“Going English—really?”

“Jah,” he said, moving over to make room for me to go into the gazebo and light the bug-repellent candles. “I’m not happy farmin’, and I wanna know what’s in books. I’m hungry for learnin’. Do ya understand?”

I was relieved about his reasons. “You’re following your heart, then, right?”

He nodded, looking at me as I motioned for him to sit on a padded lawn chair. “In another way, too.” He came and pulled the chair up next to mine, then reached for my hand. I could feel the coolness of his hand against my knuckles. My heart did a little dance.

Yee-ikes!
What was he going to say now?

“I know we’re real young and all, Merry,” he began. “But I’ve been waitin’ a long time to ask you this.”

“Wait, Levi—don’t say anything! Please!” I had to stall him. There was no way I was ready to be proposed to—not two months away from turning sixteen. Sure, if I were Amish, maybe a guy might soon ask me such a question, but I’d made it clear to Levi that I was years away from that. Or so I’d thought.

“There’s nothin’ to worry about, Merry,” he said, his voice mellow and sweet. “I would never wanna hurt you. You see, I love ya, Merry. Plain and simple. Always have.”

He sounded terribly convincing, even without a full moon to enhance the setting. Sincerity and honesty were two of Levi’s many good traits. And the way he looked, wearing modern clothes—dressed like my own brother or any other boy in town—made me more inclined to want to believe him.

I started to speak, but his finger gently touched my lips. “You don’t have to say it back. We have lots of time ahead of us.”

“Time?”

“I want some more book learning. Maybe I’ll go to a Bible college somewheres. But I will
not
be a farmer.”

“What will your parents say? How long can you live at home?” I worried that he was deciding things too quickly.

“Mam and Dat already know some of this,” he explained.

“Rachel too?”

“Jah, Rachel…and my other sisters and brothers.”

“You know, Rachel thinks I’m to blame for this. Can’t you explain the reasons why you want to leave? It would help things between Rachel and me if you did.”

“I can if she’ll believe me.”

“Please don’t quit trying,” I pleaded. “It’s important for me to have her as my friend. Little Susie, too.”

He smiled, his eyes twinkling in the candlelight. “Susie loves ya, Merry,” he said. “She thinks you’re her special playmate—her firefly friend.”

I remembered the dimple in her left cheek and the similarities between her and my twin, Faithie. “I love her, too.”

He leaned back against the lattice frame. “I s’pose she’ll wanna read lots more books than Mam and Dat can offer. Just like her big brother.”

I told him what she’d already said about wishing there were more books in the house.

“I think maybe Susie and I are cut from the same cloth.” We talked awhile longer, then he pulled some keys out of his pocket.

“Wanna go for a little spin?”

I gasped. “You have a car?”

“A couple of my cousins and I went together and bought a real nice one.”

My heart sank. “Won’t this bring more trouble for you?”

He didn’t respond to my question, jingling his car keys instead. The sound brought Abednego, my fat black cat, out from under the gazebo. “Here, kitty, kitty,” Levi called.