“I’m fine.” Turning to Paul, he waved a hand between them, demanding, “Ask her.”
Left with little choice, Paul stood, walked toward Lizzie and asked, “Would you like to go on a picnic with me?”
Chapter Five
The midmorning light filled the far corner of Lizzie’s bedroom. After finishing her morning chores, she’d come back in to be sure she had everything she needed before Paul came to pick her up. Even though it was a rare occurrence, other than on the Sabbath, for there to be a day off, Paul had managed to free up this particular Saturday afternoon. Walking around her bed, she went over to her dresser and gently slid the bottom drawer open. There, in a neat pile, lay all of the drawings she’d worked on over the last eight years. She took the top two pieces of drawing paper out and placed them next to her on the floor. Then she picked up the drawing pad, gathered the selected drawings and straightened up.
Lizzie took a canvas bag off the hook behind the bedroom door and put the artwork inside of it. She cast a glance toward the box on top of her nightstand, the place where she’d put the bag Paul had given her. She’d taken the paints out twice since the day he’d brought them over. She’d been surprised when she’d found three watercolor paintbrushes resting at the bottom of the bag. Lizzie had dabbled with the colors a few times. She was amazed at how the shades seemed to float across the paper. Seeing the colors bringing her work to life had made her heart soar.
Nibbling on her bottom lip, she waged a battle with temptation. Her parents would not be happy if they knew about this frivolous gift Paul had given her. Though Lizzie knew painting landscapes wasn’t exactly forbidden, her vader would consider her art a waste of precious time. Today was supposed to be a day off for her. Surely she could use some of that time testing out some more of these paints. Finally she opened the lid on the box and took out the paints, tossing them into the canvas bag. Looping the straps over her shoulder, she walked out of the room.
Her mamm met her at the front door, holding a wicker picnic basket in her hands.
“Here, I fixed some extra food for you and Paul. There’s water and soft drinks, along with a blanket. I think I remembered everything you put out last night.”
“Danke,” Lizzie said, taking the basket from her. She felt a strange fluttering in her stomach. It was as if there were something different about this day, something special. Even though Paul would be bringing one of his bruders along, Lizzie still felt like this could be more than just two friends going on a picnic. Smiling at her mamm, she stepped out onto the front porch.
Paul had just arrived. She spotted his younger bruder Abram sitting on the back of the buggy with his feet dangling over the edge.
He called out a hello and Lizzie waved back.
She waited on the top step while Paul stepped down from his family’s buggy. He tipped his hat to her. She noticed he had on black pants and a white shirt. He’d even changed out his straw hat for his Sunday one. Lizzie thought Paul looked very handsome today.
“Good day, Lizzie.” His glance slid to her mamm as he added, “Good day, Mrs. Miller.”
“Good day to you, too, Paul. You’ve picked a fine one for a picnic.”
“This day wasn’t my doing—it’s a gift from Gott.” Paul beamed as he looked up at the crystal-clear blue sky.
“Ja. That it is,” her mamm nodded in agreement. “I’m afraid Joseph is out for his morning walk. He’ll be sorry to have missed you.”
“I take it he’s feeling better.”
“So much better now that he’s moving around more.”
“That’s good to hear.” Paul swung his gaze back to Lizzie, saying, “Are you ready?”
“I am.”
He took the basket from her as she climbed up into the buggy with the canvas bag. After she got settled, Paul went around to the other side and joined her, tucking her basket at their feet next to a smaller one. Lizzie suddenly felt like a bundle of nerves. She placed the bag on the seat between them. She fidgeted with her prayer kapp, then ran her hands along the front of her white apron, which covered her favorite pale blue skirt.
Paul glanced at the bag as he picked up the leather reins and urged the horse forward. “Are those your paint supplies?”
“Ja. I hope you don’t mind that I brought them along.”
“Nee. I’m anxious to see what you’ve accomplished since I gave them to you,” he replied, concentrating on the roadway ahead.
“Not much, I’m afraid. I did take them out a few times to try them. I love the way the colors move on the paper. Some of them look like bright gems. But others...” She paused to grimace at her mistakes. “If you’re not careful when you mix them, they come out looking like mud.”
Beside her, Paul chuckled. “Sounds like using watercolors can be a bit of trial and error. You must have a lot of drawings stored away. I mean, since you’ve been doing this for some time now.”
She nodded. She’d never taken the time to count how many drawings she’d done over the years. She only knew that the bottom dresser drawer was filled to the top. And that didn’t take into account the box of drawings she’d stashed away under her bed. Over time her eye had become keener for spotting things that would be good subjects. Like her recent drawing of the barn.
Looking off in the distance, she spotted a small herd of deer grazing near the edge of a tree line. Perhaps one of these days she would try her hand at sketching some animal figures.
“Still, today will be a fine day for picnicking and painting.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Lizzie stole a glance at Paul. He seemed unusually interested in her artwork. The horse pulled the weight of the buggy along at a good clip. They rode by Sadie’s house. Lizzie had seen her friend a few days ago and had decided not to mention her picnic with Paul. Sadie would have made a bigger deal out of this than it was. Today was nothing more than two friends spending an afternoon together. And yet Lizzie felt an energy coming from Paul that set her nerves on edge again.
Trying to alleviate some of her unease, she asked, “Where are we going to for this picnic?”
“A place I know you will love,” Paul answered as he turned the horse to the left onto Angel Hill Road.
The mare trotted along the road that divided Miller’s Crossing in half. Lizzie hadn’t been out this way in a very long time. The horse began to slow as it climbed a steep incline. Lizzie felt bad for the animal and was glad when the land leveled out a bit. The wide vistas of Chautauqua County, New York, spread out before them. Rolling hills gave way to wooded areas. Off in the distance small lakes dotted the landscape.
“This is beautiful,” she whispered, already imagining how this would look on paper. She would use greens and a touch of gold hues to bring out the early hint of fall color.
Lizzie’s heart raced at the thought.
Beside her, Paul worked the reins with such confidence, Lizzie felt a bit in awe of his driving skills. The buggy slowed as it rolled down one steep hill, then crested up high on a rise where a beautiful church sat. The simple square structure had gray-colored siding and white trim surrounding it. A tall steeple rose from the center of the pitched roof. Two windows flanked the front door. A sign proclaimed this building to be the Clymer Hill Reformed Church.
Lizzie knew it to be a church used only by Englischers, and she realized how lucky those parishioners were to be able to worship here in the glory of God.
After parking the buggy in the shade of the building, Paul helped Lizzie down from the seat. Abram jumped down from the back and raced around to the front of the buggy. “I’ll go find us a spot to sit,” he called out, running away.
Lizzie laughed at his energy. She waited while Paul gathered the picnic baskets and her canvas bag. They walked side by side along the edge of the parking area, coming to where the pavement met the soft earth of a hayfield. Before them lay a vista powerful enough to take one’s
breath away. From up here they could see the farms and a patchwork of green-and-brown fields. Dust from a plow billowed up in the distance.
Paul extended his arm, pointing to their right, “That’s your house, right over there.”
“That little speck? Oh, my!”
In her excitement she gripped the side of his arm, her fingers flexing against a hard wall of muscle. “Wow! I wish I could come here more often. It’s too far to walk, though. These steep hills are not easy on the legs. All these years I’ve been missing out.”
With her gaze still on the horizon, Lizzie took in the beauty. Paul had discovered a lovely spot. She was glad he wanted to share this with her. Happiness welled up from inside of her. Lizzie let out a delighted laugh.
* * *
The sound of Lizzie’s laughter was music to his ears.
“Ja. It would be a difficult walk. I only come up here in a buggy. It’s a great spot to sit and think.”
“Do you come here often?”
“I used to sneak up here when I was a young boy. And then after David’s death...I came here a great deal.” He’d watch the sky change colors in the evening light. He’d think about how horrible that day had been as he’d prayed for forgiveness. He still couldn’t be sure if he’d been given that yet.
The beauty of this place was something to behold. Whoever the person was who’d picked this as a location for the church had done so knowing how these wonders could restore a person’s faith. Even through all the pain and suffering that David’s death had left behind, the one thing that had never wavered was his faith. The doubts he had were solely within himself.
“I can understand why you came here. There’s a peace about this place. I think it’s a wonderful spot to sit in reflection.”
He looked down at her, taking in her honey-colored hair and her perfectly placed prayer kapp. He looked at her face, seeing a wistful smile appear and maybe hope reflected in her eyes.
Taking another chance, he spoke in soft tones, saying, “And I think it might be a wonderful place to paint.”
With her gaze still fixed on the horizon, she nodded.
Paul wasted little time in joining Abram at the spot that he’d picked out for them on top of a rise. From here they could see out over the fields. Spreading the blanket out, he was anxious to see what Lizzie had brought in her bag. But first he had to deal with his bruder, who was running circles around them.
“Abram. You need to slow down,” Paul gently warned him. “The last thing I need is for you to fall and get hurt.”
“I’m not going to get hurt. Can I take my sandwich and go over there?” Abram asked Paul, pointing to a stone wall at the edge of the field.
“Ja. But stay where I can see you,” Paul told him, handing Abram a bag with an egg salad sandwich.
Then he turned his attention back to Lizzie, watching as she took out a sketch pad, the paints and supplies. His breath caught when she pulled out two larger sheets of paper. The images were stunning.
Reaching across the blanket, he asked, “Might I take a closer look at these?”
“I’m afraid they’re not very good.”
“Lizzie, how can you say such a thing? These are beautiful.” Like you, he almost added. But instead he turned his attention to the image of a field that he recognized.
As he continued to look at her art, she arranged her paints and brushes on the blanket. She asked him if there might be a plastic lid she could use in the picnic basket. Setting the artwork down, he opened the top of the wicker hamper her mother has sent and found a round container of macaroni salad. He took the lid off and handed it to her.
“Will this do?”
“Hand me that bottle of water, please.” She pointed to one of two lying side by side next to the sandwiches.
He did. She unscrewed the cap and dumped a few drops of water on it, cleaning it off.
Paul wondered what she was going to do with the lid and water.
“I’m going to put the paints on this. And the water will help thin out the colors,” she explained.
“Ah. I should have known.”
“I went to the library last week and looked up some books on watercolor painting. It seems the author of this one book is a very famous watercolorist. That’s what they’re called, you know. I couldn’t spend too much time there, as I was supposed to be picking up some items for Mamm at the general store. But I did have time to learn how to blend colors. That’s what I’ve been working on.”
While Lizzie worked in her sketch pad, Paul set up their lunch. Sandwiches, salad, drinks and chocolate whoopie pies for desserts. It appeared their mamms hadn’t left a thing out of those baskets. He knew both sets of parents were hoping for a good outcome from today. He rolled his shoulders, preparing himself for the conversation. And he had something else he needed to discuss with her, an idea that could help her family.
But first things first. He was starving.
“Which sandwich do you want, egg salad or tuna salad?” he asked.
“Why don’t we split them?”
“Good idea.” He found paper plates and napkins at the bottom of the basket his mamm had packed. After carefully unwrapping the sandwiches, he arranged the halves on two plates.
After giving her one of the plates, he took the plunge. “You know, I’ve been talking with your vader about us.”
She’d been working on the top of her painting. Her brush strokes of blue tones spreading across the paper. He realized it was the same color as the sky above them. She paused midstroke, looking up at him, seeming to ponder his words. Lizzie set the artwork aside and put the brush on the lid. Then she picked up the half of the tuna salad sandwich and started nibbling at the edges of the bread.
Clearing his throat, Paul made a great effort out of studying the egg salad sandwich he’d been holding. He took a healthy bite, and then in four more, the sandwich was gone. Beside him, Lizzie continued to nibble away at hers. Not saying a word.
In a fit of frustration, he said, “Don’t you want to know what we’ve been discussing?”
Calmly she placed her half-eaten portion back onto the plate. She picked up the water bottle, twisted off the cap and took a sip. Then she set the bottle back in the exact spot where she’d picked it up.
She avoided looking at him. “A few weeks ago, I overheard the two of you talking about our courtship.”
His heart sank. Had she heard everything? Her vader’s words had sounded harsh to Paul. He could only imagine how Lizzie had been affected. He took her hand in his, feeling her fingers tremble. Rubbing his thumb across her knuckles, he wondered at all she had endured. Lizzie deserved so much better. She deserved happiness. She deserved to do her artwork out in the open. The world needed to see her talent. But first he needed to talk about their relationship.
She beat him to the punch by saying, “Paul, I know a courtship between us would make our families happy. But...” She stopped, pulling her hand from his. She rubbed it along her scar. “My vader, he needs to be sure his farm will last into the next generation. We’ve talked about this before, you and I. You are not a farmer. Besides, this—” she indicated the side of her face “—is going to make it difficult for me to find a husband.”
Shaking her head, she looked down at the painting she’d been working on. Lowering her voice, she added, “I’m just not ready for any kind of a relationship.”
Anger surged through him, causing him to question the reasons for things he couldn’t change. He wanted to fight for her. But most important he wanted her to fight for her own confidence. He wanted to see Lizzie happy and at peace. And he cared for her enough to know that if she couldn’t see a way to make a life with him, then he prayed she would find happiness with someone else.
As he sat there looking at her, willing her to change her mind, Paul realized he didn’t want Lizzie to have a life with anyone el
se.
“Lizzie. I don’t believe this to be true. You are warm and caring. You love to cook. I think you need to give yourself time to think about a courtship.”
“Nee. I will find another way to help my family.”
By now he’d learned to recognize the stubborn set to her jaw and knew she was finished with that conversation. But Paul saw the opportunity to discuss his next idea and took it.
“There is a way for you to do just that.”
She looked back at him. “What are you talking about?”
He shifted his weight on the blanket, leaned back and rested his weight on his elbows, stretching out his legs and then crossing them at the ankles. When he was sure he had her attention, Paul nodded in the direction of her watercolors.
Lizzie pursed her mouth into a tight line. She shook her head. “Paul Burkholder, I want you to get whatever thought you have about my art out of your head this instant.”
“You haven’t even heard me out. At least let me tell you my idea.”
She folded her arms across her chest. Her eyelashes dipped, and he could see her waging a silent battle. Paul waited. And waited. And waited.
Just when he thought she would never respond, finally she said, “All right. Let’s hear it.”
Chapter Six
Pushing off his elbows, Paul sat up tall on the picnic blanket. “I want to sell your paintings at my store. They are stunning and I know that the Englischers would love them as much as I do. I can make all of the frames for them. And Lizzie, all the money you make from these could help your family.”
“Nee!” Suddenly she stood up. With her hand on her hips and her back rigid, she stared him down.
Her eyes were filled with a sharp determination, but he also saw something else around the edges. Her expression softened. She stepped over the paintings she’d created, then walked off the blanket. Paul started to go after her. Lizzie wandered a few feet away from their picnic spot. He wanted to give her time to think about his offer, but there wasn’t a lot of time to be had. Over the past couple of weeks, he’d been working day and night, getting his shop ready to open. He’d done what they call a soft opening this past Friday and it had gone quite well.
A Love for Lizzie Page 6