SummerHill Secrets, Volume 2 (13 page)

I didn’t tell her my subject matter had been swallowed up at the photo lab down the street. And still no word from the old man running the place. Not even a phone call to apologize!

I griped to Dad at supper. “How on earth could something like this happen? You’d think after all this time someone would be wondering where his pictures are and want to trade the wrong ones for his own.”

Dad nodded rather apathetically between bites.

With my fork, I poked at the carrots on my plate. “The photos of ancient furniture were probably taken by some antique dealer. I wonder if I should call around to all the dealers in town and see if they’ve lost some pictures.”

Mom zeroed in on the word
antique
. It defined her main interest in life. “It does seem strange that someone would take pictures of antique furniture unless they were recording them for an inventory of some kind,” she suggested.

“But why the enlargements—full-color glossies?” I asked, noting that Mom seemed as perplexed as I.

Dad offered no help, and I was really beginning to wonder about his preoccupied state. Was the Davis kidnapping attempt coming up? Maybe this weekend?

Mom had little to say on the Davis subject when I pumped her for answers as we cleared the kitchen table. Both my parents were keeping a tight lid on things. “I wish you’d never told me anything about rescuing Mrs. Davis,” I finally blurted out in sheer frustration.

“I only told you about it so you would pray” came the terse reply. There was no messing with Mom.

Tired of inquiring, I dropped the subject. When the kitchen was cleaned to Mom’s satisfaction, I went upstairs and pulled out Levi Zook’s letter. I reread it straight through; then I found some floral stationery and began to write.

An hour later, Ashley Horton called.

“Merry, hi,” she said. “I hope I’m not calling you at a bad time.”

Now what?
I wondered.

“This is fine,” I said.

“Well, I’m beginning to wonder if I should even bother to enter the photo contest,” Ashley whined.

“Really?”

“Oh, I don’t know, I guess I’m getting cold feet after hearing how astounding Stiggy’s entry is supposed to be this year.”

“
This
year’s photo?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Have you seen it?” I asked.

“Well, no.”

“Then how can you possibly know if it’s any good?” She was silent.

“I sure haven’t heard anything wonderful about his latest entry—except from you. Maybe Stiggy’s trying to scare off his competition.”

“Why would he want to do that?” she asked.

“Who knows? Maybe his picture isn’t really all that great, and he’s just saying it is.”

“Oh, Merry,” she gushed, “I wish I’d called you earlier about this. I’ve worried too much.”

I sighed. “Just do your best. That’s all any of us can do.”

“That’s what Jonathan keeps telling me.”

My heart flipped hearing his name. “Well, he’s right, you know.”

She sighed into the phone. “I think he must be right about everything.”

I thought I’d die or drop the phone. Or both. She was talking about
my
Jon. Again!

“Merry? You still there?”

“I’m here.” I wished I weren’t!

“What do you think of Jonathan Klein?”

Who is she kidding?
I thought. I wondered if steam was spouting out my ears yet.

“I’ve known Jon for a very long time,” I found myself bragging. “He and I go way back.”

“Oh really? How far?”

I wanted so badly to start alliterating to see if she could do it, too. Wanted to show her up any way I could, but I gripped the phone with my left hand and pulled on my shirt with my right.

“Why don’t you ask Jon?” I blurted.

“About you and him?”

“Sure, if you want.”

“Okay,” she sounded a bit reluctant. “He’s coming over in a few minutes.”

Now I felt really foolish. What if she asked him about me like I was fishing to find out how he felt? That secondhand girl-asks-boy stuff was so junior high, and it certainly wasn’t what I’d had in mind!

“Jon’s going to help me with my photo shoot,” she explained. “In fact, that might be him at the door now. I’d better get going. Well, ’bye, Merry. See you Sunday.”

My heart was pounding ninety miles an hour as I hung up. This girl was driving me bazookas!

It was a good thing I’d nearly finished writing my letter to Levi
before
Ashley called. My mind was so clogged up with the phone conversation that I simply put the letter away. I did remember, however, to cut out one of my wallet-sized school pictures and slip it into the envelope.

Standing at the window, I surveyed the cornfield across SummerHill Lane. I recounted Ashley’s words and decided that she’d actually called me to flaunt Jon. He was coming to her house—that’s why she’d called. All that baloney about Stiggy and his wonderful work…it had nothing to do with anything.

I ran downstairs and grabbed a Windbreaker from the hall closet. “I’m going for a walk, Mom,” I called.

“Don’t be long. It’s getting dark.”

“I know.” But I wanted it to be dark. I wanted the night to close in around me. I’d been through all this before—only with Lissa last spring. Why was it that right when Jon and I were really clicking, someone else had to step in and spoil things?

Quickening my pace, I headed for the steep grade that led to Chelsea’s house. The dusk chirped and buzzed as tiny insects and other small animals prepared for night.

Several cars were parked in the driveway at the Davis residence when I arrived. One of them was a squad car. Probably Officer Vyner’s.

Chelsea came to the door carrying a golden-haired puppy. “Oh, Mer,” she cooed, hugging me with her free arm, “look what Rachel Zook brought over.”

I touched the cocker spaniel’s neck gently. “For keeps?”

“He’s all mine.” Chelsea’s eyes were shining as she led me upstairs to her room. “I’m going to call him Secrets.”

“When did Rachel come?” I asked, settling down on her window seat.

“A little while ago.” Her eyes searched mine. “Somehow or other, she heard about my mom. You never told her, did you?”

“No, but one of their Mennonite cousins may have heard about it on the news. Or—” I stopped, realizing who the true informer might’ve been—“maybe it was Levi!” My smile gave me away.

Chelsea noticed. “Good old Levi. You’ve always liked him, haven’t you?”

“We’re friends, but that’s all there is to it. He’s off in Virginia at a Mennonite college.”

She grinned, holding the puppy up for me to see. “Isn’t he adorable?”

I noted the slight wave in his silky coat. Rachel had chosen Chelsea for the caretaker of her favorite pup. “Better not bring him around my cats,” I warned. “They’d scratch his pretty nose right off.”

We joked about our taste in pets and then got to discussing church and what she could expect on Sunday morning. She was especially interested in the discussion on angels. “Are you sure they’ll be talking more about it?” she asked, her eyes bright with anticipation.

“Positive,” I said. “And since you’re interested, I have to tell you something. You know the day we first went snooping in the woods?”

She nodded.

“Well, the strangest thing happened. This Bible verse I learned when I was a kid popped into my head out of nowhere. It was so unusual.”

“Really? What was the verse?”

I was hoping she’d ask. “It goes like this: ‘For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways; they will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.’ ”

“That’s in the Bible?” she said, eyebrows at attention.

“Sure is.”

“Where?” She stood up as though she were going to get one and bring it to me.

“Do you have a Bible in the house?” I asked, surprised at this turn of events.

“Daddy does,” she admitted. “It’s a family book. We never read it, though.”

“Well, go get it, and I’ll show you the verse.” This was truly incredible!

“Here, take care of Secrets.” She handed the pup to me.

I caressed his tiny head and back as I often did my cats. Then in a moment, Chelsea was back, lugging the heavy book.
Thunk
, she put it to rest on the window seat.

“There. Bet you never thought you’d see the day,” she announced, grinning.

I was careful not to say anything to distract from the moment. Gently, I opened the enormous Bible, locating the passage in Psalm ninety-one.

She knelt down and read verses eleven and twelve out loud. “Hey, what a cool thing,” she said. “It looks to me like the angels from heaven take their orders from…from God.”

She’d never mentioned the heavenly Father that way. My heart leaped.

There was a catch in her voice as she read the verse again out loud. Looking up, she whispered, “Can you believe it, Mer—a God who sends angels, His very own angels, to guard us on earth?”

I smiled through tears, and poor little Secrets caught a few drops on his nose. It was best that I didn’t say a word. Chelsea was the one who needed to talk—to express her true inner feelings.

The sound of tires on the dirt lane caught our attention. Reluctantly, I turned to look out the window and was surprised to see my father pull up in the driveway. “What’s my dad doing here?” I asked.

Chelsea peered out into the darkness. “Half the community is over here.”

I didn’t say anything, but I wondered about it. Rescue by kidnapping—it seemed so drastic. But love sometimes demands extreme measures.

Chelsea sat down opposite me on the window seat. “I’m glad you’re my friend, Merry,” she said. “Yet I’ve given you a hard time about God and the Bible all these years.”

I shrugged, playing it down. “We’re still friends, though, right?”

“But I think things are going to be different. I won’t put you down about God anymore. I promise.”

Chelsea’s change of heart was a major breakthrough. One I’d been praying for. Levi and Lissa had been praying for her, too, since last spring.

She got up and switched on her matching dresser lamps. The room was filled with brilliant light, and after having sat there in the fading light of dusk, my eyes had to grow accustomed to it. I knew it would be the same for Chelsea. Just because she’d begun to recognize God as a living spirit didn’t mean she was necessarily ready to accept the Good News of Jesus. It would take some getting accustomed to. And Sunday was another day.

Chelsea told me to stay put. She went downstairs and soon returned carrying two cans of soda. “You know, I heard something today at school.”

“What?”

“Some kid told me that Stiggy Eastman has photographed an amazing shot for this year’s contest.”

I snickered. “I heard it, too. From Ashley.”

Chelsea stared at me. “Hey, you never told me how your photos came out.”

“Well, when Mom and I went into town to pick them up, I found someone else’s pictures in my package.”

“Oh, Merry…no. What’ll you do?”

“What
can
I do?” I sighed, twisting my hair. I hated discussing this topic. “If you wanna know the truth, I think the photo lab flat-out lost them.”

“That’s despicable.”

“Maybe I’m just not supposed to enter the contest this year.”

“How can you say that?”

“Look, nothing can be done except a lot of praying,” I admitted.

“Well, then you better keep praying,” she said, surprising me.

Something was truly changing in her. She’d never, ever said such a thing to me.

“In my opinion,” she said, “the old shanty was the perfect choice, even though I was kind of ticked at you for snapping pictures when I was so freaked.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.” I looked at her beautiful bedroom with its white French-provincial furniture and thick throw rugs. “I don’t think I ever apologized for turning my back on you in the woods when you were so frightened.”

“It’s okay—no big deal. Besides, we oughta look on the bright side. I think my mom’s coming home.”

“When…how?”

She beamed, her eyes dancing. “That’s why all those people are downstairs,” she informed me. “Daddy’s got a plan, and I know you won’t believe this, but it’s true: He’s going to kidnap my mom because he loves her.”

I nodded, reaching for her hand. “I heard about it, I just didn’t know when it would be.”

She shook her head. “Mom’s gonna be so bummed out over it,” she went on. “But in time, when everything’s behind her, she’ll be coming home.”

We talked for a while longer, and she explained that her dad didn’t want her involved in planning the kidnapping. “That’s why I’m glad you came over. With all the talk going on down-stairs…well, I’m really glad you’re here, Mer.”

I glanced at my watch. “I better call my mom. She’ll worry if I don’t let her know where I am.”

“Good idea,” she said. “Maybe if all of us did that—let people know exactly where we are—the world would be a better place.”

I must admit, I wasn’t totally sure what Chelsea was referring to, but I had a sneaking suspicion it had something to do with her new view of life and love. And God.

Sunday was a glorious autumn day in more ways than one. Chelsea went to Sunday school and church with us and actually raised her hand to ask questions in class.

It was strange dealing with my emotions, however. On one side of me sat exuberant Chelsea, so eager to be here, and on the opposite side was flirtatious Ashley, trying her best to get Jon’s attention.

I didn’t want a single thing to spoil my day with Chelsea, so I honed my concentration skills and did my best to block out all distractions.

In the hallway after class, Ashley cornered me and shared the events of her Friday evening with Jon and their cozy photo session. She reviewed every detail for my benefit.

“Sounds like things went well,” I said, refusing to show a smidgen of jealousy and keeping an eye on Chelsea, who’d gone back into the classroom to talk to Mr. Burg.

“Oh, did they ever!” Ashley carried on.

“Well, if I were you, I’d steer clear of that photo lab near the school.”