SummerHill Secrets, Volume 2 (56 page)

I thought, just then, of the strange dream I’d had. Of being a maple tree, strong and true. No matter the wind or the weather, a tree like that stands tall. Was I
that
hardy? I truly wondered.

Low, slinky rain clouds hung in the sky on the far edge of SummerHill. Thunderbumpers, I’d nicknamed them. Soon, there would be distant thunder, but a change in weather was the furthest thing from my mind. A rain shower wouldn’t spoil our search efforts, most likely. I, for one, wouldn’t let some moisture dampen my spirits. If need be, we could race the weather all the way home. We were going to find Jingle Belle if it took all night!

Another hour and a half passed quickly. Abe and Aaron and the younger girls headed back across the meadow toward the farmhouse. I wondered if Levi and Martha would do the same, but they persevered. So did Rachel and I. Dusk was coming on fast, and my stomach was growling out of control. It wouldn’t be long till nightfall.

“We’d better head back. It’s getting too dark now,” Rachel said.

“You go ahead,” I said. “I want to keep looking.”

She peered up at the darkening sky. “Soon, you’ll need a flashlight or a lantern.”

“I have eyes like a cat. I can see in the dark.” Then I remembered the moon. It had appeared just last night while I sat with my cats on the back step. “The moon’s due out any minute.”

“Not if those clouds keep comin’,” she replied. There was apprehension in her voice.

“I’ll be all right.” I glanced up to see Levi and Martha still searching. “I’m in good company.”

She smiled a weak smile and touched my arm. “You won’t mind if I go, then?”

“I’m fine, honest.”

She gave me a quick hug. “Maybe Jingle’s wandered back to the corral already.”

“Wouldn’t someone ring the bell to let us know?”

“Jah, you’re right.” She turned to go, and I watched her for a few seconds before hurrying across the meadow. I decided to go in the opposite direction, away from Levi and Martha. It would be darker in the woods, but Jingle might’ve lost her way in there.

Time passed quickly. I lost track of how long it had been since Rachel left, and I couldn’t see my watch anymore. Dusk had come, and I could barely see where I was walking. Still, I was one-hundred-percent-amen sure I’d be able to see a flash of white wool, given the chance.

A long rumble of thunder rolled across the sky. There was no lightning, though, which would’ve helped me see. If only for an instant.

I thought of my cats, probably hiding under my bed or in my closet about now. Oh, they hated the sound of thunder! A fleeting, yet frightening thought crossed my mind. Who would comfort my cats if something happened to me—if I lost my way forever? If no one ever found
me
? I couldn’t imagine Dad or Mom, either one, taking on the job of caring for my cat quartet. And my brother had always made fun of my need to take in strays. Skip didn’t call me cat breath for nothing!

I could almost feel the dark clouds overhead, and I wished for a flash of lightning. Anything to guide me. “Jingle!” I called, again and again. “Can you hear me?”

There was not a sound but the crack of thunder following a welcome flash of lightning. I forced myself to concentrate on finding the lost lamb. “I’m here for you, little girl,” I said, clenching my fists. “I’m going to find you!”

The wind began to hit my face, and then came the pelting rain. In no time, my face and hair were drenched. Thankfully, I was spared the full force of the pounding because of the dense trees. I knew better than to plant myself under one of them, though. The rainstorm was fierce, with flashes of light now cracking out of the sky like jagged white fingers. I was determined to find Jingle, yet I wanted to do the wise thing. I had to get far enough away from the trees and keep low to be safe from the lightning.

The thunder made my knees feel like rubber. Was I lost? I couldn’t have wandered that far away. Could I?

In the underbrush, I heard a sound. The low bleating of an animal not far from me. “Jingle? Is that you?”

I followed the whimpering, determined to find her. A steady flicker of lightning aided me. There, in the thicket—caught in the brushwood not more than three yards from me—was the little lamb.

“Oh, baby,” I cried, crawling to her. “You’ll be okay now. I’m here. Merry’s here.”

Her cries broke my heart, and I struggled to free her from the jungle of sharp vines. “Lord, help me,” I whispered, snapping the briar that held her at last. In the process, I cut my fingers. But I couldn’t determine how badly; I only felt the blood slowly oozing from my fingertips.

I sat on the wet ground, holding the lamb in my arms. Both of us were shaking hard. “Don’t worry,” I said, stroking her, holding her close. But my heart was beating ninety miles an hour.

After a time, Jingle began to relax. I continued to pet her and talk softly to her. The warmth of the lamb’s body against my own comforted me. “The storm can’t last forever,” I said. “Storms never do.”

That’s when I remembered what Dad had said so often to me over the years.
“Only time will heal that kind of wound.”

“Time and…God’s love, if we’re patient,” I said into Jingle’s soft coat.

I remembered my vivid dream about being a maple tree. My roots were deep, grounded in the soil of God’s Word. Thanks to my parents’ spiritual training and the teaching I’d received at church, nothing could knock me down. “Not even Faithie’s death,” I said aloud.

God had reminded me in a very unique way. Teamed up with Him, I was sturdy enough to face the future without my twin. I could trust God, just as this precious lamb in my lap could count on me to care for her through this truly horrible storm.

The storm won’t last forever
….

My own words! And what truth they held for me. It was time to let go of the past. I had the ability, with God’s help, to move past the shadows. The truth hit me harder than the rain falling on my face.

“Thank you, Lord,” I prayed, holding on to the lamb for dear life.

How long I sat there, I couldn’t tell. After what seemed like hours, the rain finally slowed to a drizzle. It was still mighty dark, but I could see the shadow of the moon behind a cloud. I watched the sky, waiting breathlessly for the moon to become fully visible.

“We’ll go home soon,” I told Jingle. “We’ll walk under the wonderful white moon.”

For as long as it took—till we were rescued—I decided to play the Alliteration Word Game. Alone.

“God is here—hovering, holy, helpful,” I began. “We’ll be glad to get going—gleeful, giddy, and grateful to be home.”

The familiar wordplay comforted me. Far better than focusing on the frightening flashes far overhead, not to mention what foreign forest friends—or foes—might be furtively lurking.

Hugging the lamb in my arms, I continued. “Jingle Belle is beautiful, blessed, on her best behavior, both bright and brainy.” I was running out of
b
words.

So I tried
f
, thinking jovial Jon would be jubilant just now. “Faithie was fantastic, fun-loving, fast, faithful, full of life…” I couldn’t go on. Saying descriptive words about my twin made me cry. My tears mingled with the rain on my face till it was impossible to tell which was which.

I thought of the summertime flowers that had refused to bloom after she died. And the horrible drought that followed. Most everything green had turned an ugly brown. When the rain finally did come that year, it had seemed to come in buckets. Soon, life flowered around us again. Just as I believed my life without Faithie was going to blossom…from this night on.

It was getting late. A hoot owl startled me in a tree nearby, and I could hear rustling in the underbrush. Noises that were not the wind. I could only imagine what snakes and other crawling things might be out here.

Scared, I began to hum a song from church, wondering what songs they might play at my funeral if I should die here tonight. Purposely, I forced those thoughts out of my mind. I focused, instead, on God’s sovereign will covering all His creation. That meant me, too! Merry Hanson trapped in a ferocious storm…lost in a deep and dark woods, alone and afraid. Yet God’s will covered me. I took true comfort in that.

Just then, a glimmer of light caught my eye. It was coming toward us, bobbing through the woods! Then I heard my name ringing through the trees. “Merry, can you hear me?”

It was Levi’s voice! Courageous and strong.

“Over here!” I called back, still clinging to the lamb.

“Merry!”

Louder, I called back. “Levi…I’m here!”

Once the moon came out, he found me. His flashlight helped, too. “Oh, Merry,” he said, bending down and shining the light in my face. “Are you all right?”

“My socks are soggy and most of me is soaking wet. But I found Jingle…and she’s safe, too.”

He reached down and helped me up, lamb and all. Faintly, I could see his face in the moonlight. “I was awful worried, Merry.”

“I didn’t think
you’d
come for me,” I said, totally amazed.

“Both your father and mine are searching, too. You gave us a fright, really you did.”

“I’m okay, honest.”

But he kept looking at me, as if he had to see for himself. “You’ve been crying, Merry…” Then, without waiting for me to answer, he brushed away my tears with the pads of his thumbs. “There,” he whispered, “much better.” Then, unexpectedly, he pulled me close, along with the lamb, into his arms. “I prayed you’d be all right,” he was saying. “We all did.”

“And I am,” I assured him.

Levi released me gently, and we began to hike out of the woods, his flashlight guiding the way. His consoling hug had been a brotherly one. The old feelings, the romantic ones, had been replaced with something new.

He took the lamb from me, carrying her away from the woods toward the meadow. And as we walked, we talked of many things—my present school year…and his. How his brother Curly John and sister-in-law, Sarah, and their little Mary were doing. He also mentioned that his father had asked him again to consider “joining church.”

“But you’re Mennonite,” I insisted.

“Dat’s stubborn as the day is long. Wants
all
his children in the Amish church.”

“I’m sure you can understand why.”

“But I’ve made a stand for the Lord by becoming a follower of Christ instead of the
Ordnung
.” He was adamant about growing in his newfound faith, and I was truly glad. Adjusting the lamb in his arms, he explained, “My father’s from the Old Order—the old Amish way of doing things. He only knows what his father and grandfather before him passed on to him.”

“And the bishop?”

“The bishop, too.” He was quiet for a moment. “The fact is, unless someone witnesses to Old Order folk, it’s awful hard for them to hear the fullness of the Gospel. For one thing, the People aren’t allowed to read the entire Bible. Only certain passages are encouraged, and those are preached over and over.”

“How sad,” I spoke up. “The Word of God holds all the answers to life’s problems.”

“And that’s the truth!”

I remembered then that he’d dropped by to see me earlier. “Mom said you came over to the house.”

“I couldn’t leave SummerHill again without talking to you, Merry. Like the old days.”

It was dear of him. “But those days are nearly gone,” I gently reminded.

We kept our pace, moving through the tallest grassland now. “Martha said she met you,” he said.

“Yes…and she’s really terrific.”

He laughed his joyful laugh—that warm and contagious chuckle I’d come to know so well. “Martha likes you, too.”

“Maybe we’ll become good friends,” I said, hoping so.

“That might be difficult, since we’re praying about going to South America as missionaries.”

“When?”

“After graduation.” He paused. “And after I marry Martha.”

The news didn’t jolt me, not in the least. But it was mighty nice to hear it directly from Levi. “I know you’ll be happy together,” I said softly. “She’s right for you, Levi.”

The lamb jostled in his strong arms. “I hope you’ll forgive me. I never wanted to hurt you.”

I understood. “We were mistaken about the kind of feelings we had for each other,” I said. “I should’ve known you were more like a wonderful big brother. Nothing can change that.”

“Still, I was wrong to lead you on. I said certain things…and I’m sorry.”

“We’re still friends, so don’t worry.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” he said, and I noticed he patted the lamb’s head.

“Jingle’s so adorable,” I said. “She taught me many things about myself…on the farm and back there in the woods. God allowed Jingle to come into my life for a reason. He allowed tonight’s storm to happen, too. So I could learn to trust Him to quiet another, much bigger storm.”

Levi listened patiently as I recounted my discoveries. He was kind, as always, and put up with my chattering.

Once we were midway across the meadow, we started calling. Hollering, really. “Dad, I’m okay!” I shouted.

We wanted my dad and Levi’s, too, to know I’d been found.

“Merry’s with me,” Levi said, putting his free arm around my shoulder.

Merry’s with me
….

A year ago, I might’ve replayed those words and this moment a thousand times in my mind. Tonight, I knew better. Levi was, and always would be, very special to me. But in time, Martha was to be his life mate. I was truly happy for them.