SummerHill Secrets, Volume 1 (10 page)

Now, here’s a morning person,
I thought.

“I hope you’re feeling much better,” she said. “Your brother left a note about you.” I thought she was going to touch my forehead at first, but she stroked my hair instead. “If you’re not planning to go back to bed, I’ll clean your room now. I understand you’re having company tonight.”

“My aunt and uncle are coming,” I said, reaching for the newspaper. I nearly choked when I saw Lissa’s school picture plastered on the front page.

Br-ring!
I scooted the kitchen chair back to answer the phone. “Hanson residence.”

“Oh, Merry, it’s you,” Miss Spindler said. “I wondered who that was wandering around with Mrs. Gibson in your kitchen. Are you ill?”

“I felt a little sick this morning, so Skip said I should stay home,” I explained, wondering how she could see things so far away. “I feel much better now.”

“Oh, that’s good.” She cackled a bit. “Then you’ll be able to enjoy the apple pie I baked first thing this morning.”

I grimaced at the thought of her coming over. I wanted to get going to see Lissa. “Uh, could you bring it over around lunchtime?” I asked.

“Well, I suppose I could do that, dear.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll see you then.”

“Have you heard anything more from your parents?” she persisted.

“Everything must be fine with them, thanks,” I said, eager to hang up.

“Well, that’s good to know.” She paused as if she was dying to discuss something else. “Merry, dear, how did everything turn out with those policemen last night?”

She would bring
that
up.

“It was, uh…I think everything’s been cleared up.” It bugged me that I couldn’t articulate clearly when I felt cornered.

“That’s good,” she said. “And I was meaning to ask you about Rachel Zook. What’s happened to her leg?”

I froze. Had Miss Spindler been watching the kitchen last night? Did she know about Lissa’s Amish disguise? I cleared my throat. “Uh…did you say Rachel?”

“Yes, dear. I saw her limping down the lane last night after that parade of policemen arrived.”

What could I say? Was Miss Spindler on to something?

She sighed into the phone. “What do you suppose Miss Rachel was doing standing out there in the willow grove half the night? My, oh my, she looked cold…and quite alone, I must say.”

Yee-ikes! I stretched the phone cord all the way across the kitchen and looked out the back door. Miss Spindler’s house was about a half acre away, set on a gentle slope that made it possible to survey things quite nicely from her second-floor bedroom window. And if I guessed correctly, the nosy old lady probably had some assistance—like some high-powered binoculars.

“Well, you know Rachel’s almost at the running-around stage the Amish let their teens go through,” I said, trying to steer her away from all the questions. “But I don’t think you have to worry about her, Miss Spindler.”

“Well, I certainly hope every little thing is just fine at the Zooks’ house,” she said. “I don’t want to see fishy goings-on over there.”

I swallowed hard.
What does she mean?

At that moment, I couldn’t decide which was worse. Two policemen by night or a snoopy old neighbor by day.

In my ultra-polite voice, I said, “Thank you so much for calling, Miss Spindler. I hope you have a wonderful day, and I’ll look forward to that pie of yours at lunch.”

“There’s a dear,” she said and hung up.

In one gulp, I swallowed the rest of my juice and left the kitchen, safely out of view.

Who knows what Old Hawk Eyes would think if she saw me leave for the Zooks’ farm. This was truly horrible. Here I was, stuck at home with no possible way of getting to Lissa.

I hurried upstairs to Skip’s room. One of his windows faced north, overlooking the Zooks’ farm. Quickly, I looked out, past the willow grove to the strip of dirt leading to Rachel’s house.

More than thirty gray buggies were parked outside. The Amish farm bustled with activity as men and women hurried here and there, doing assigned chores—helping Rachel’s parents prepare for their oldest son’s wedding.

A group of bearded men worked an assembly line, unloading two wagons filled with wooden benches used for seating at the Sunday house services and weddings. They unfolded the bench legs before carrying them inside the house, all part of the Amish tradition.

By the looks of this large crew of helpers, the Zooks were expecting a big crowd tomorrow. I wondered what chore Rachel had invited Lissa to do.

I remembered when my first invitation had come. It was last year. Rachel and her younger sister, Nancy, had been assigned to bake molasses cookies for her cousin’s wedding, three houses down the lane. It took us almost all afternoon, but when we finally finished, eleven dozen cookies graced the table. For weeks after that, I nearly choked whenever someone so much as mentioned the word molasses.

The wedding preparations made me miss Lissa. She was probably caught up in the middle of things by now. Rachel would see to that. I just hoped that Lissa was being careful not to give herself away. It was important for her to blend into the Amish community until my dad got home tomorrow night. As for the police, they’d never think of looking for Lissa at an Amish wedding!

Dashing to my bedroom, I started pulling the sheets off my bed. In short order, Mrs. Gibson and I had the room ready for company. While she cleaned the bathroom, I sat on my bed, dreaming up a new scheme and deciding what role our housekeeper might play.

I needed a way to distract Old Hawk Eyes while I made a run for next door.
What if I get Mrs. Gibson to pay her a little visit?
I waited till she was gathering up her things and saying good-bye before I sprang it on her. “I wonder if you could do me a favor?” I said, following her to the front door.

“Of course, Merry. What is it?”

“Could you go around the corner to Miss Spindler’s house and tell her everything’s fine over here? She’s been calling a lot lately. I think she’s worried about Skip and me.” I went on to tell her briefly about the visit from the police, playing it down as best I could.

“Well, of course, I’d be happy to.” She tucked a loose strand of dark hair into her bandana. “Tell your mother I’ll be back next week, same time. And if there’s anything I can do before then, just give me a call.”

“Okay, thanks,” I said, waving as she headed for her car. I ran to the kitchen and hid behind the back door curtains, watching old Miss Spindler’s place. In a few minutes, Mrs. Gibson’s car pulled into the driveway. She got out and walked to the front door—my cue to hightail it out of here.

Past the gazebo, down the lane, and through the shortcut I ran. By the time I leaped over the last picket fence, I was out of breath. Walking up to the back porch, I hid behind the ivy trellis, trying to see in the window. Suddenly, a familiar face greeted mine. Lissa was washing windows with Rachel!

“We could use another pair of hands,” Rachel said as I entered the back door.

I sniffed a familiar scent. Glancing around the kitchen, I noticed two Amishwomen working over the hot cookstove, baking doughnuts and…molasses cookies! I tried to keep from pinching my nose shut, and held my breath instead.

“What are you doing, ditching school?” Lissa whispered, wearing one of Rachel’s work dresses.

“Skip said I was too sick to go.”

“You look fine to me,” Rachel teased.

“I feel fine,” I said, holding the bucket of water for the window washers. “Must’ve been that strange dream I had last night.”

“A dream made you sick?” Lissa asked.

“I got too hot, I guess,” I said, hoping to move on. I backed away from the woodstove, noticing how crowded the house was with all the helpers. “Looks like everything’s going well here.”

Lissa nodded, seeming more relaxed than she had in a long time. “Rachel showed me how to milk a cow today,” she whispered. “It felt…” She stopped, looking up at the ceiling, then scrunched up her face. “Let’s just say it was real different.”

I sucked in my breath and bit my lip, worried about Lissa blowing her cover.

Rachel must’ve seen my concern. “Don’t worry, Merry. Everything’s
Plain
good.”

I smiled. It was like a secret code. Her way of saying no one suspected a thing. So far.

After two more windows, we took a break. Rachel led us upstairs to her room. She showed Lissa the cross-stitched pillow she’d made for her brother’s wedding gift. When Rachel’s mother called, she responded quickly, leaving me alone with Lissa at last.

“How’s everything going today?” I asked, eager for more details.

Lissa grinned. “You were right, I do like Rachel,” she said, obviously not catching my concern. “I love it here, Merry. I really do.”

I forced the air through my lips. “Please be careful about getting too friendly with the other young women. If you talk too much, they might suspect something. For one thing, your accent’s a little off.” “Jah?” Lissa answered, smiling. “How’s that?”

I motioned her away from the door. “You can’t take any chances,” I warned, filling her in on the phone calls from Old Hawk Eyes. “I’m worried about what Miss Spindler might do. She knows lots of Amish people around here. I mean
lots
of them.”

Lissa frowned. “What do you think she’ll do?”

I sighed. “Miss Spindler suspects something. I know she does. I’m not sure how far she’ll take it.”

Terror returned to Lissa’s face. “You mean I’m not safe here, either?”

“We can’t be too careful.” I turned away from Lissa’s piercing eyes and picked up the hand mirror on Rachel’s dresser. “Have you seen yourself lately?” I held the mirror up to her.

Lissa backed away, her lips set. “Plain women never admire themselves.”

I laughed. This remark, coming from her, seemed weird. “What are you talking about?”

“Their religion teaches against making an image of themselves to save or admire. It’s part of not being proud,” Lissa explained as though I didn’t already know.

“I know all that stuff, but what do you care?”

She smiled knowingly. “I thought if I was going to pretend to be Amish, I’d better act it.”

“Well, it’s a good thing
I’m
not Amish,” I announced. “Life could be mighty tough without a camera.”

“Maybe you could learn to make quilt designs or something else,” she suggested as a tiny smile crept across her face.

I got up and went to the curtainless window. Dark Amish-green shades were rolled all the way up to allow the morning sun to heat the room. “I haven’t seen Mrs. Gibson’s car drive down the lane yet,” I said absentmindedly, “but I’m sure as soon as it does, Old Hawk Eyes will take up her post again.”

“Well, I guess we’d better let God worry about her,” Lissa said out of the blue.

“What did you say?”

Lissa ignored my question. “Did you know there’s stuff about birds in the Bible?” She reached for the German Bible on the dresser. “I found a verse last night.” She flipped back and forth between the pages. “I can’t find it in German,” she said, “but I know it’s in the Bible you loaned me. Something about not one little bird will fall to the ground unless God lets it happen.” A look of excitement crossed her face as she stood up, slowly making her way to the window.

I watched her stare at the birdhouse outside. There was a thoughtful, faraway look in her eyes. Lissa’s voice was soft. “Birdhouses never have doors.”

And without a word of explanation, I knew exactly what she was thinking.

I hated to spoil the moment, but I wanted to impress on Lissa one last time to be careful. “Please remember, you’re being watched,” I warned. “Even though Miss Spindler may have thought you were Rachel Zook last night, she
did
see the limp. The police are telling Lancaster residents to be on the lookout for certain details. Specific things.”

Lissa’s eyes expressed fear.

“It’s everywhere, Lissa. All over the media—TV, newspapers. Like it or not, you made the front page of the morning paper today!”

“It’s a good thing the Amish don’t have newspapers or TVs,” she said, sounding relieved. “Don’t worry, Merry. I won’t do anything dumb, I promise.”

“We have to keep you hidden till my dad gets home. It won’t be long now.” I glanced at my watch. “Oh no, it’s almost noon!”

Grabbing my jacket, I flung it on, muttering brainlessly to Lissa about being late for Miss Spindler’s apple pie. I hurried toward Rachel’s bedroom door, vowing to return later.

“Don’t forget to tell Skip you’re spending the night over here,” Lissa reminded me.

“Good thinking.” I waved good-bye.

Halfway home, I stopped walking and turned to look at the Zooks’ farm through the willows. Why hadn’t I told Rachel about Miss Spindler’s snooping? More than anything I wanted to go back and warn her, too, just in case. But it was getting late. Old Hawk Eyes herself would be arriving at my house any minute.

Eventually, the apple pie was delivered. Miss Spindler—her hair a puff of gray-blue—brought it over. As usual, her tongue was flapping to beat the band.

“What a frightful thing it was last night. All those police officers surrounding your house!”

I tried to comfort her. “Don’t worry, everything’s fine now, Miss Hawk…er…Spindler.” I nearly choked! But she kept chattering on and on, never even noticing my slipup.

Finally, she left, and I sat down to some lunch, topping it off with two slices of pie for dessert. Before I cut into it, I went upstairs to get my digital camera. I had to take a picture of the lightly browned, fork-dotted crust. I don’t know why, I just did.

Click!

I ate the scrumptious dessert, enjoying the moist, delicious fruit and the crispy homemade crust. When I was finished, I aimed my camera and took another shot.

Click!

The before-and-after thing was something I’d picked up at the photography contest last year. Several kids had used the approach, and when I thought about it, I realized I’d been doing it, too. Mostly since Faithie’s death.