SummerHill Secrets, Volume 1 (45 page)

The closer he got, the more I wanted to lash out at him. Let him know I hoped he had to pay, and pay dearly, for this truly horrible thing.

Mom came over to me and held me close. “Oh, honey,” she whispered. “Honey.”

My knees felt weak and I nearly collapsed. Dad rushed over and had me lie down in the grass, my head cradled in Mom’s lap.

And then the ambulance arrived. Lights swirled round and round, casting reddish shadows on the trees surrounding us.

In the darkness, I thought how it would be to take Susie’s place. For me to be the one dying instead. For me to be going to heaven…to Faithie.

Tears rolled down my face and slid into my ears. But I let them fall, wishing something would block out the sound of Susie’s body being lifted onto a stretcher and into the ambulance, its doors closing heavily. I trembled uncontrollably and was only vaguely aware of someone covering me with a blanket.

Mom’s gentle voice was somewhere above me. “I’m here, Merry,” she said. And then came Dad’s strong arms, lifting me up and carrying me home.

I tossed and turned between my sheets, reliving the accident, calling out to Susie in the night. I even dreamed the whole thing—except in my dream, she’d heard my warning. And was safe.

Close to midnight, I fell into a deep, sorrowful sleep.

The next morning, I couldn’t remember the details of my dream. I knew I’d been catching fireflies with Susie and calling…calling. But nothing else was clear. And try as I might, I couldn’t recall the outcome.

The longer I lay there, the more restless I became. I checked the time on my blue-striped wall clock. Already ten o’clock!

I got out of bed, eager for news of Susie. Was she alive? Had she survived the first critical hours?

I grabbed my robe and stumbled into the hallway, calling for Mom.

“Downstairs,” she answered, meeting me at the bottom of the back stairs leading to the kitchen.

“How’s Susie?” I stood there stiff as a soldier, bracing myself for the worst.

“Come, sit down.” Mom guided me over to the table.

I felt suddenly guilty for sleeping while my friend was shut away in the hospital. Maybe dying.

“Your dad went to the hospital last night after we got you settled. He stayed through the night with Susie and her parents.” Her voice was thick with concern. “Honey, it doesn’t look good.”

My throat felt cottony, and I wished I could go back to bed, to sleep and have all this be just a bad dream.

She reached over and touched my hand. “Susie’s in a coma.”

My heart sank. “A coma?”

She nodded, a hint of tears in her eyes.

“I want to see her,” I whispered.

“I knew you would, so I fixed some pancakes. I can warm them up right away for you.”

I shook my head. “I’m not hungry, Mom.”

“But you nearly fainted last night,” she said, getting up. “You ought to try and eat something. For nourishment.”

“Okay, but just a little.”

I watched her slip into hostess mode and hurry to the fridge, where she located a pitcher of orange juice. She poured it thoughtfully into a small juice glass and brought it over to me.

“Thanks,” I said in a daze.

“The Zooks were so kind to your father last night,” she offered. “They never questioned anything in the ER. Their only concern was for Susie.”

“I’m not surprised,” I said. “They trust Dad. And most of all, the providence of God.”

She set the microwave on reheat and put a plate of pancakes inside. “Your dad said Levi was a big help, filling out forms for the nurses and in general handling the whole situation amazingly well.”

There was so much she wasn’t saying. I knew it by the look in her eyes. She desperately wanted to have the Amish conversion conversation now.

“Mom, the Zooks aren’t trying to convert me, I promise you. There
are
some things going on with Levi, though.” I sighed. “I just don’t want to talk now.”

She put the orange juice back in the fridge. “It can wait.” She forced a smile.

I could feel the tension between us.

I got up and looked out the back window. The gazebo reminded me of Levi. He was so mature, much more settled than I’d ever dreamed. Settled and now tremendously strong. He wasn’t nearly the flirt, either. That change in him was actually refreshing. I had to admit, the new Levi was more intense. God-directed, too.

I wondered how God looks at our lives, knowing the end from the beginning the way He does. Knowing whether or not Levi would wait for me. And whether or not I’d want him to.

I turned away from the window. Now wasn’t the time to be thinking about Levi. So much was at stake. Susie’s life was on the line.

One pancake was all I could eat. Thank goodness, Mom didn’t coax for more. It was clear she wasn’t herself. I wondered if Susie’s accident had jolted her—forcing her to reevaluate her relationship with me.

We stopped in at the Zooks’ before heading to Lancaster General Hospital. I got out of the car and went inside, asking if anyone wanted to ride along.

Grandfather Zook stood up and took his cane, looking relieved. “I’ll go in with ya. Denki for thinking of us.”

Levi and Aaron were covering the chores for their father. Rachel, Nancy, and Ella Mae were helping, too. By the looks of things, Grandma Zook had taken over all kitchen duties.

Poor Grandfather. He’d been twiddling his thumbs, not knowing what to do with himself. “Yous are a Godsend,” he said, getting into the backseat of our car.

“Glad to help,” Mom said. She had an uncanny ability to pull herself together. Mom talked softly with him, filling him in on the latest hospital information from Dad as she drove us toward Lancaster.

I shut out their talk, remembering back to Faithie’s cancer diagnosis. The outlook had been bleak right from the start. The cancer had crept up on all of us—taking a head start on everything medically possible. In eight short months she was gone.

Gone!

I trembled at the thought. Would we have to go through the same trauma and grief again? Wasn’t it enough to lose Faithie? Wasn’t it?

I felt hot—caged in—sitting here in the front seat of Mom’s expensive car. At the red light, I put my hand on the door handle and, in my mind, jumped out. I imagined running down Lime Street—all the way to the hospital.

The weather was beastly hot and sultry, as though a thundershower was imminent. A sizzling Fourth.

Even though Mom had the air-conditioner going full blast, I was perspiring to beat the band. The sheer thought of seeing Susie in a hospital bed frightened me.

As it turned out, Abe Zook had to do some fast talking to let Mom and me in to see Susie at all. He called us cousins, which we were, only very distant ones. The nurse in charge eyed us suspiciously, probably because we didn’t look one bit Plain.

Abe and Esther Zook had been taking turns in the intensive care unit off and on since last night. Abe looked washed out, exhausted. Esther too. Someone at the hospital had taken Levi home in the wee hours.

Tears came to Esther’s eyes when she saw Grandfather Zook shuffling down the hall, his cane in hand. The three of them stood in a huddle, speaking in Pennsylvania Dutch quietly as they shared their grief, felt one another’s pain and, by their faces, the hopelessness of it all.

That’s when Mom encouraged me to go inside to see Susie. I felt a lump in my throat. It choked me so that I could hardly breathe as I stood at the foot of her bed.

Do not be afraid or discouraged….

White sheets draped the bed, matching Susie’s pale face. Her braids had been wound around her head in the typical little-girl style, and her white net bonnet covered her small, round head.

I studied her eyelids, hoping they might flutter open. “Oh, Susie,” I spoke to her, trying my best not to cry. “I know you can’t see me, but I’m here. I miss you.” I took a deep breath for courage. “I know you’d rather be anywhere else but here. And believe me, I wish you weren’t here, either.”

I longed for some kind of signal. Something to let me know she could hear—that she was listening. But there was nothing at all. Not the slightest movement of her fingers or her eyelids.

Nothing.

Slowly, I walked around to the side of her bed. I touched her left hand gently. The hand that had held the smashed firefly last night.

“I’m going out tonight…to catch fireflies. Hurry and get well so you can come with me,” I said with absolutely no hope that she would ever come to another firefly ball.

I stared at the monitors everywhere and at the curtains, pulled shut. This place was like a morgue. Except for one thing. There was a
live
body in this room. A living, breathing person!

Dad had always said, “Where there’s life, there’s hope,” and I clung to that. Susie might’ve died last night, but she was alive, her heart beating. Breathing on her own!

So much to be thankful for.

I thought of the firefly poem Grandfather Zook had written. “‘Night of the Fireflies,’” I said out loud. “Come one, come all, to the firefly ball. Dance with ’em, laugh with ’em. Run straight and tall.”

I looked at Susie—really looked at her. She was somewhere inside that seemingly lifeless body; I knew it. Her light was still shining. Same as the firefly she’d accidentally smashed. Shining steadily…telling us not to give up. To keep believing that she would run and laugh again. That she would chase fireflies again.

But no one else, not her family and not the nurses, seemed quite as hopeful. Dad came up on one of his breaks. He checked her chart and reaffirmed the grim outlook. Susie was in a deep coma.

“Can she hear anything?” I asked.

“Sometimes comatose patients have keen hearing; they’re aware of their surroundings. My guess is that Susie can probably hear the voices of those she loves.”

“My voice, too?”

Dad kissed my cheek. “Perhaps.”

I stayed all day, rotating turns with Susie’s mother, father, and grandfather. I used the Gideon Bible from the drawer in Susie’s hospital room to read passages from the Psalms out loud.

Grandfather Zook had his firefly poem with him, and while he waited for his visits, he worked on creating the last verse. When the words didn’t fit just right, we would talk, sharing special memories of Susie.

We weren’t being morbid or anything. Actually, our time together was very sweet…and touching. Fond memories of Susie kept us going. Kept us hoping.

A Fourth of July without fireworks. No hot dogs or corn on the cob. No root beer floats.

I was content to sit at Susie’s bedside a few minutes at a time, reading Psalms to her and praying out loud—making sure the light inside her kept shining.

“Here’s a good one—Psalm ninety-one,” I said, settling down for another Bible-reading session. “It’s one of my favorites. ‘He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.’”

I paused, thinking about the sheltering willows in our secret place—the willow grove. “Remember how bright our jars of fireflies were in the willow trees? Well, I guess you could say the willows are like the shelter in this psalm. Can you picture yourself being sheltered there, Susie—safe in Jesus? He is the Almighty.”

I looked at her as I spoke, hoping, praying for a response. Anything.

Undaunted, I picked up the Bible again and continued to read. “‘I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”’”

Then, as I did after every short session, I repeated her grandfather’s poem, “Night of the Fireflies.”

“Come one, come all, to the firefly ball. Dance with ’em, laugh with ’em. Run straight and tall.”