A Love for Lizzie

by Tracey J. Lyons

  Then Lizzie ran up the walkway, raced across the porch and hid inside the shelter of the Miller home. Paul could hear her sobs coming from inside the house. Choking back tears, he hung his head. This wasn’t how he wanted things between them to end. Without Lizzie in his life, he had nothing. He wasn’t about to let her go without putting up a fight. Because he knew Gott intended for them to be together. But how could he convince her?

  Another three days passed. Three days in which he closed himself off from the world. Standing in the middle of the Burkholder Amish Furniture Store, with his hands on his hips, Paul surveyed his handiwork. Though the spot where the dining room set stood was now empty, his plans were to replace it with a brand-new one. But without Lizzie, the joy he took in working with his hands had dimmed. Without her by his side, he felt as if nothing mattered. He looked at the walls where her watercolors hung.

  Fighting back the pain, he walked over to the painting she’d done of the field where they’d had their first picnic. He remembered how excited she’d been seeing the view from the hillside. Paul could still see the way her hand had moved over the page. Brushstroke after brushstroke, she’d created this stunning image with seemingly little effort.

  He’d fallen in love with her even more that day.

  She’d come so far since then. He’d watched her confidence blossom as she’d been brave enough to trust in her talent and to trust in them. He couldn’t let her escape back into seclusion. Lizzie didn’t belong on the farm. She belonged out in the world, where she could share her artwork. She belonged with him.

  Looking at the yellows and greens, he still felt the awe of her talent.

  Her Gott-given talent.

  He couldn’t let her throw this all away. She’d been given that talent for a reason. Just like others in the community created beautiful quilts, Lizzie’s hands created lovely watercolors. Her heart and soul were in these watercolors. He knew she’d never be able to forgive herself if she stopped creating art and left all of this behind. Lizzie wasn’t meant to be a farmer’s wife. She was an artist.

  Reaching up, he took the framed watercolor off the wall. He carried it to the back room, wrapped it in brown packing paper, cut a length of string from the spool that hung on the pegboard and then tied a neat string bow on the top. Carrying the painting under his arm, Paul walked out of the shop.

  The trip out to the Miller farm didn’t take more than twenty minutes, but to Paul it felt as if hours had passed. His insides were telling him he needed to get to Lizzie. When he finally made it to their property, he stopped the buggy next to the barn. His horse pawed at the soft earth. Paul’s senses picked up. As he jumped down from the buggy seat, he heard the sounds of crying coming from inside the barn. Quickly he went to the building, peering inside the tall sliding doors. Dust motes danced around his shadow. A woman stood in the middle of the large room. He could see her arms wrapped around her middle. The prayer kapp covered her honey-colored hair.

  Lizzie.

  She gave no indication that she’d seen him. Paul stepped into the dimness, heading straight for her. In long, easy strides he met up with her in the middle of the barn and gathered her in his arms. She nestled her head underneath his chin as he held her close, feeling her shaking. Rubbing his hands along her back, Paul tried to ease her pain.

  “Oh, my dear, sweet Lizzie. Please don’t cry.”

  “I’ve ruined everything,” she sobbed into his chest.

  “No, no. You haven’t ruined anything.”

  He let her cry some more, holding her as tightly as he could, willing his strength to flow to her. Praying for his own strength. Remembering that horrible day so long ago. The very day that had set their future in motion.

  Paul knew that David wouldn’t want to see his sister in so much pain. He knew that David would want her to forgive herself.

  “Lizzie,” he said, taking a chance that he was sharing the things her bruder would want her to hear. “It’s time for you to forgive yourself. You need to let go of the past...let go of things we can’t change.”

  She continued to cry, shaking her head against his chest.

  “Lizzie. You need to forgive yourself. Please forgive me. We’ve come so far. I can’t let you go now. Please don’t make me let you go.”

  “I...I’m so filled with pain. I don’t know what to do with any of these feelings.”

  “Give them up to the Lord. He will protect you and heal you. Lizzie, I know together we can bring the light back.”

  She stepped away from him. Scrubbing her hand across her face, she looked down at the floorboards. It was then he noticed the crumpled paper. He bent down and picked it up.

  “What’s this?”

  “The picture of the barn I’ve been working on. The image has been stuck in my mind for so long, I finally put it down on paper. You’ve seen this...” she said, hiccupping.

  Paul worked to smooth out the wrinkled edges, seeing that it was indeed the watercolor of the barn. He focused on the lilac bush.

  Tapping the spot with a finger, he said, “This isn’t here any longer.”

  “The bush was there the day David died,” she explained. Sweeping her hand out in front of her, she whispered, “I can’t do this anymore.”

  “Wait here—I’ll be right back.” Taking the picture of the barn with him, Paul hurried out to the buggy, where he exchanged it for the one he’d brought from the shop.

  He came back inside and handed it to her. “Here, open this.”

  Her fingers trembled as she pulled the string loose, releasing the brown paper.

  “Look at this picture.” He tapped the glass. “This is the watercolor you painted the day we went on our picnic. I know you remember this day, Lizzie.”

  She shoved the painting back at him, turning her face away from him. Cupping her face in his hand, Paul had her facing him again. Though he could see her turmoil, he knew he had to convince her that they needed to be together.

  “Every painting you do shows your beauty and your strength. The day we went to this field for our picnic, that was the day I fell in love with you. No matter what happens, Lizzie, I will always love you. And nothing you can say or do will ever change how I feel.”

  “I won’t let you love me!” Lizzie shouted as she ran past him, out of the barn.

  Clutching the painting in one hand, Paul went after her.

  “Paul!” Joseph Miller’s voice boomed behind him.

  He stopped in his tracks, watching Lizzie moving away from him one more time. He turned to find her vader standing in front of the barn doors. He wondered how long the man had been outside.

  “Ja. I heard what you said to my dochder.”

  “Then you know I love her.”

  “I do. But I also know you need to give her a little more time.”

  “I’m not sure I can do that.”

  The man’s bushy eyebrows pulled together as his stare bore down on Paul. He waited.

  “I’ve looked at Lizzie’s paintings. I understand why she does them. You are right—she has been given a great talent. I know she’s been doing nothing but using it for the good of our family. Perhaps I’ve been hard on her. These years have not been easy ones, Paul.”

  “I know, sir.”

  “I needed her to marry a farmer. Instead she has fallen in love with a furniture maker. One who, I might add, convinced her to keep secrets from her family.”

  Joseph wagged a finger at him, “Your vader and I were very close to going to the bishop over your actions. In the end, though, we’ve decided your decisions, while misguided, had been made for the right reasons.”

  Frowning, Paul didn’t know if he should apologize or defend his actions and feelings for the man’s dochder. In the end Joseph was the one to concede.

  “Like it or not, my Lizzie loves you. If you can convince her to come back to you, you have my
blessing to be married.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The floor felt cool beneath her bare feet, reminding Lizzie that cold fall air would be settling in before she knew it. Putting on her black stockings and black shoes, she finished getting dressed. Her entire body ached. Not from illness, though. She ached with the familiar pain of loss. Letting Paul go was going to be harder than she’d imagined. Lizzie knew he’d been hurting. They were both hurting. Sighing, she wished loving someone were easier.

  From the kitchen she heard the sound of the teakettle’s whistle. She went downstairs and found only Mary in the kitchen, padding around with bare feet.

  “Mary! You should put on your stockings at least.”

  “My feet are so swollen. And they feel hot. I’m letting them cool for a bit,” Mary explained, turning around to look at Lizzie. “You look tired.”

  “I’m afraid I haven’t been sleeping well.”

  After walking back to the stove, Mary took two mugs out of the cabinet above it. “Come, join me for some tea. I’ll make us up a pot of Earl Grey. I know it’s your favorite.”

  “Danke. I’d like that. Are there any muffins left?” she asked, knowing there were some left in the basket when she’d gone to bed last night.

  “I think only corn ones. Daed took the blueberry ones with him when he left for the fields this morning. Aaron went along to help him with the harvest.”

  Lizzie accepted the mug her sister handed her. Bringing it under her nose, she inhaled the sweet fragrance of the bergamot oil the tea was known for.

  “Come on, let’s go sit out on the porch.”

  “What about your feet? Won’t they get cold out here?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Mary replied, laughing.

  She joined her sister on the swing. Lizzie looked down at her sister’s stomach, noticing the soft rounding of her belly. It gave her a comforting feeling to know that two little lives lay safely in Mary’s womb.

  “You must be excited about the babies.”

  Mary’s eyes lit up. “We are. Aaron is hoping for boys, but I’d like one of each.” She gave her head a slight shake. “Nee, that isn’t true. I don’t care if they are girls or boys as long as they are healthy.”

  Lizzie rested her head on Mary’s shoulder, feeling safe and secure and loved.

  “Tell me, liebschen, how are you holding up?”

  “I’m taking things one day at a time.” Lizzie felt guilty at having to admit that.

  There was something to be said for life staying on course. Ever since this change between her and Paul, she could hardly keep up with all of the emotions.

  “I understand Paul has come by several times since the incident.” Mary pushed her toes against the porch, putting the swing into motion.

  “We’re calling that day an incident?” Lizzie cocked an eyebrow, meeting Mary’s gaze.

  Mary let out a soft, very unladylike snort. “I don’t know what else to call it. Lizzie, do you love Paul?”

  Her heart ached so much, she wanted to weep from the pain of it.

  In a soft voice she answered her sister, “Ja. With all my heart, I love Paul Burkholder.”

  “Then you need to work this problem out.”

  “I’m not sure we can.”

  “Was Vader finding out about your artwork really so bad?” Mary wanted to know.

  Lizzie shrugged. “On that day, ja. It was bad. That man came here, looking for me. The look on his face when he noticed my scar was too much for me to bear. I’m better off here at home. Not out in the world. Besides, Paul is not a farmer.”

  Mary put her foot flat on the porch floor, stopping the motion of the swing. “You need to stop thinking that way.”

  “Vader needs help on the farm. We can’t afford to hire anyone. The money from the art sales would have helped things.”

  “Ja. Maybe so.” Mary looked thoughtful for a moment and then she said, “Aaron and I have decided to stay.”

  “Stay here? For how long?”

  “Hopefully for the rest of our lives. We want to raise the twins here, in Miller’s Crossing. Daed needs the help on the farm, and Aaron is a farmer, after all.”

  “And Paul is a furniture maker.”

  “Maybe now you can forgive him, Lizzie. Forgive yourself.”

  “I’m trying to, Mary. My mind has been a jumble of thoughts and feelings that I’ve never felt before... I just don’t know what to do with it all.”

  “Lizzie, this is all natural.”

  “Yes, but is love always this hard? Just when I thought my life was sure to be that of an alt maedel, Paul Burkholder, a boy I watched grow into a fine man, comes along and takes my heart.”

  Mary put her arm around her shoulders, pulling her closely. “Ah, my dear Lizzie. This is a gut thing for you. Love is a wonderful part of life. There are so many of us in this community who marry because it’s the right thing to do for the family. But we have both been blessed with men who love and cherish us. You need to remember that and thank Gott for it.”

  They sat for a few minutes longer, watching the birds pick at the feeder.

  “You need to let your heart open back up and trust what is inside.”

  “When did you get to be so wise?” Lizzie poked her in the arm.

  “I’ve noticed that being with child has made my senses keener.”

  Together, they laughed.

  “I’ve missed you, Mary.”

  “And I you.” Resting her forehead against Lizzie’s, Mary added, “Now go find Paul and settle this issue between you once and for all so we can get on with planning the next wedding.”

  Lizzie left her sister on the porch, deciding to walk into the village. She needed the time to think, and the few miles of walking alone would help her clear her mind. As she made her way up the driveway, she noticed that all around her the land seemed to be changing. The fields had turned from green to gold. Here and there on the side of the road were dried leaves. Raising her eyes, Lizzie caught sight of tinges of golds and reds on the leaves, evidence that the seasons were changing.

  Spotting a maple tree just beginning to turn red, she imagined how the colors would look on her art paper. She continued walking, trying to put the words Mary had spoken into perspective, realizing how much she had truly missed Paul. The place where her heart was in her chest began to ache. Lizzie rubbed her hand over the spot, wishing she’d never fallen in love. Then she wouldn’t know this heartache.

  In the next instant she realized how much she missed him. She missed his smile. She missed his touch. She missed seeing the excitement on his face every time he talked about the Burkholder Furniture Store. Even if the Burkholders didn’t agree with their sohn’s choice, Paul deserved to be a successful businessman. As mad as she was at him, she would not begrudge him that. Lizzie thought he deserved to find happiness, too, just not with her.

  She felt a wetness on her face and realized she’d been crying. Swiping a hand across her eyes, she fought back a sob. She couldn’t imagine Paul with anyone else, and yet she couldn’t imagine him with her. She’d known all along that she wasn’t worthy of love. She’d told Paul that many times over. Why hadn’t he listened? Why had she given in?

  Lizzie stopped moving, spent from feeling sad and lonely and angry. Off in the distance she saw the top of the church spire on Clymer Hill Road. The sunlight poured out of the heavens, making it appear as if it were made out of silver. That place meant so much to her and Paul. Lizzie couldn’t explain the feeling washing over her. She had to go find Paul.

  * * *

  The sound of the sander broke through the morning silence. Paul had been out in the shop at their homestead since well before dawn. He’d been busy working off his frustration by finishing a tabletop. The showroom floor looked empty without the dining room that he’d sold to the Englischer. Though he’d known when he’d picked
this slab out he’d had only one person in mind.

  Lizzie.

  His plan had been to surprise her with a lovely table as a wedding gift after she agreed to marry him. Now as he stood here amid the sawdust, some of the last words she’d spoken to him rang in his ears.

  I won’t let you love me, she’d said.

  Pressing hard, he slid the sander over the wood, trying to erase their last moments together. The hurt he’d seen in her eyes still brought him pain. The thing was, he couldn’t imagine loving anyone else. And now that he’d had time to think about them, he realized he’d always loved her. All those times he’d told himself they were just friends had been nothing more than his denying his true feelings.

  “Paul. Sohn. Sohn!”

  He turned when he felt a tap on his shoulder. “Daed!” He pulled the orange foam earplugs out of his ears and shut the sander down.

  “I’ve been calling to you. Guess you couldn’t hear me above all the noise.”

  “Sorry. I’ve been trying to get this tabletop finished.”

  Cocking an eyebrow, Daed asked, “A special order?”

  “Ja. What’s on your mind?” Paul asked.

  “I know things have been strained between us since Rachel and Jacob’s wedding.”

  “Ja.” Paul wiped a hand across his brow.

  If he’d learned nothing else being Amish, it was the power of forgiveness. He’d been just as guilty as his daed in their dealings with the shop, and in the end with the hurt they’d caused each other.

  As soon as he’d finished sanding, he planned on heading over to the Miller house. He’d been there three times already, and each time Lizzie had turned away. Maybe today would be different.

  After pulling out a stool, Vader sat, resting his forearms in front of him on the workbench. “I’m not getting any younger, you know. And life is too short to stay mad at each other.”

  Paul nodded. “Agreed.”

  “Do you think we can work our way through this?”

  “I do.” Reaching out, he captured his daed’s hand with his, wondering when it had become hardened with arthritis and roughed with time.