by Linda Byler
“Yes, I am this week.”
“Are you going to sleep here?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Good,” he drawled, which warmed Lizzie all over again. She hoped with all her heart she could have a little boy that looked and talked like Abner some day.
Lizzie had just sat down at the table when Mary’s husband, Jacob, walked into the kitchen. He was big and broad-shouldered with dark curly hair and a slow smile. A tall young man followed him into the kitchen, wearing a short-sleeved white shirt, his face tanned from the sun. Lizzie had never seen anyone whose hair was cut like this young man’s. Maybe it was a style she hadn’t seen yet because she wasn’t running around with the young people.
When he took his place at the end of the table, Lizzie tried not to stare. Yet she had to look sometimes because he was the most handsome person she had ever seen.
“Jacob, this is Lizzie Glick, our new maud. Daniel, Lizzie will be here this week,” Mary said.
“Hello. So you come from way up at the other end of the county?” Jacob asked.
“I guess,” Lizzie managed to croak.
She glanced furtively at Daniel, but he was looking at his plate. He didn’t say anything at all, which Lizzie couldn’t understand, because surely he would not be embarrassed in front of her. She was only plain Lizzie, with brown hair and clothes that didn’t look half as neat as other people’s.
“Daniel is my brother,” Mary smiled. “He’s not quiet usually.”
“The cat got his tongue,” Jacob teased, and Daniel smiled back.
After they had bowed their heads in silent prayer, they passed dishes of hot, steaming food—fluffy mashed potatoes, thick beef gravy, and succulent young peas in a cream sauce. Applesauce and small red peppers stuffed with cabbage, crisp green pickles, and lots of bread, butter, and jelly completed the meal.
Lizzie tried desperately not to eat too much. She loved Mam’s food, but there was also something deliriously wonderful about eating in other people’s homes. But today Lizzie didn’t eat as much as she would have liked to, mostly because Daniel was sitting so close to her. He was very good-looking, Lizzie decided. She would never, ever have a chance of having him as a boyfriend, and for sure not as a husband. If neither Joe nor John was interested in her, than Daniel wouldn’t be either.
She wondered if he had a girlfriend at home. Probably. She would ask Mary if she had enough nerve.
“Does your dad milk cows on your farm?” Jacob asked. Startled, Lizzie dropped her spoon.
“He does now, yes, but I don’t know how long yet. They just die.”
The men laughed loudly. Oh, dear. Her cheeks felt hot and she blinked self-consciously. Why did she say that? They didn’t have to know about their old run-down farm and the fact that so far Dat was not very successful with the cows.
“Why are they dying?” Jacob asked, chuckling.
“I don’t know. The vet comes out quite often.”
Mary clucked sympathetically. “That can be hard on a pocketbook,” she said.
Lizzie had long wondered if Dat knew enough to be a good farmer. When Mandy was little, Dat was a harness-maker. When that business didn’t grow fast enough, he started building pallets. So what did he really know about how to run a dairy—with all its expensive equipment, plus animals. What if the crops didn’t grow? What if the cows didn’t make it?
Lizzie had always been a worrier, all the way back to when she was five and got Snowball the cat and was afraid she’d wander out onto the road and get killed. Lizzie would get up during the night to check that the kitten was still breathing. Now that Lizzie was bigger, she was worrying about bigger things.
Dat had bought their whole herd of 30 Holstein dairy cows from a dealer in Ohio, and they were trying to make a living by milking cows. It still seemed like a risky enterprise, one that often bothered Lizzie as she went about her work. Cows were living creatures who died or got sick, so it all seemed quite unpredictable. She had a hunch that Dat was not thinking carefully enough. He seemed quite positive that the milk would just keep flowing freely and the big stainless steel bulk tank in the milk house would be filled to capacity every time the milk truck rolled in the driveway.
It was the same way with planting corn and making hay. What if it didn’t rain? Sometimes it didn’t. Or what if it rained when they needed dry weather to cure the hay?
Lizzie took another bite of bread. It was Dat’s responsibility, not hers. Everything would be just fine. If only Dat had more experience.
Emma had often told Lizzie that if she prayed more, God could help her not worry so much. Lizzie wasn’t too sure he cared enough to quiet her fears. God wasn’t as real to her as he was to Emma.
Mary was slicing a chocolate cake and topping each piece with home-canned peaches. Lizzie desperately wanted a large piece of cake soaked with sweet peach juice like she ate at home, but she was too embarrassed to eat that much in front of Daniel. She wasn’t exactly thin, but she was trying. She certainly didn’t want it to look as if she overate.
Lizzie was relieved when the meal was finally over.
The rest of the day she housecleaned, ironed curtains, and did any job Mary assigned to her. By the end of the day, she was bone-tired and wished she could go home. She missed Mandy and Mam and Dat, their supper table in the old kitchen, and Jason talking with his mouth full. Everything about home seemed so dear and precious. A wave of homesickness enveloped her in a gray mist.
Finally, it was time for Lizzie to take a warm bath and get ready for bed. The bed in the guest room felt strange, so different from her own lumpy mattress with skinny Mandy beside her, reading as Lizzie fell asleep. The sheets were smooth and luxurious, the pillow twice as thick as her old pillow at home. She lay in the dark, thanking God for a room of her own, this nice soft pillow, and the cool sheets. Even if she had to be a maud, there were little things along the way to give thanks for.
Mary proved to be a good, kind person to work for. She was very fussy about the way things were to be done. But Lizzie didn’t mind. She just remembered to ask when she wasn’t sure how to do something. Mary always explained in detail how she wanted jobs to be handled.
The best day was when Mary sent her outside to rake leaves and mow the lawn for the last time before winter set in. Lizzie loved to work outside. She clipped dead plants, hoed flower beds, raked leaves, and pushed the Beilers’ new reel mower.
Abner ran alongside the lawn mower, asking a dozen questions whenever Lizzie stopped. She always took time to answer, loving the way he drawled out his words and rolled his brown eyes for emphasis as he talked.
Toddlers certainly beat babies in Lizzie’s estimation. She didn’t really like babies that much, especially if they yelled and screamed and drooled on your hand when you held them. In church, each little girl wanted to get someone’s baby after services, so they could pretend they were its mother. Lizzie never liked that. Babies were such a mess, and they made Lizzie nervous. She was never sure how to hold a baby. They were too soft and slippery, and Mam said you had to hold their heads carefully. Lizzie was always afraid she had the wrong end up. But a two-year-old was plain-down entertaining. Most of the time.
When Mary came out to bring in the laundry from the line, she threw her hands up in the air and made quite a fuss about everything Lizzie had accomplished.
“It looks like a different yard!” she said.
Amazing how it worked, Lizzie thought. If you made someone else’s day brighter, just like magic your own was bright, too. Maybe that was why Emma had been so happy when she came home from being a maud for a whole week. She had made other people’s lives happier by lifting their workloads.
When the driver came on Saturday afternoon, Lizzie couldn’t wait to go home to her family, but she felt almost sorry to leave the Beilers, too. Mary thanked her profusely, handed her a check, and gave her some lavender-scented stationery with matching envelopes.
When Lizzie reached the farm, she flew in the sidewalk, burst thr
ough the door, threw her suitcase on the floor, and yelled, “I’m home!”
Everyone made a good and proper fuss, so much, in fact, that Lizzie wondered why she had acted like such a baby to begin with. Being a maud had a goodness all its own. The best part, probably, was learning to be a less selfish person.
Chapter 18
NOW THAT EMMA WAS 16, she spent Saturday evenings and Sundays with a group of young people in the neighboring county where there was a larger Amish community. Her new girlfriends invited her to stay at their houses. She was also learning to know many young men. Together they ice-skated, took buggy rides, and gathered for supper crowds and hymn-singings. Emma always came home late Sunday evenings with a driver. Her eyes shone Monday mornings as she told Mam, Lizzie, and Mandy all about her weekend.
Lizzie was thrilled as she listened to Emma. How unbelievably exciting it would be when she turned 16 and went to the neighboring county. She still had to stay at home most of the time, although sometimes she and Mandy were allowed to have fun with their friends from vocational class.
One morning when Emma came down the stairs, her cheeks were flushed with excitement. She looked as if she could absolutely walk on air. In fact, her feet hardly seemed to touch the floor.
“Good morning, Emma!” Mam said, turning to add another egg to the pancake mixture.
“Morning!”
She said it louder than usual, and Mandy turned toward her as she placed the last of the forks beside the plates. Lizzie looked at her, narrowing her eyes.
“Boy, you’re happy!” she said.
Morning was not Lizzie’s favorite time of day, although for some strange reason, she was never very happy it seemed. She was usually fine until Emma or Mandy became too chirpy, too enthused about their day, or just too plain-down good for mornings. Then Lizzie felt grouchier than ever.
Why couldn’t they eat breakfast a few hours later? Lizzie wondered. But no, Dat and Mam got everyone up and to the breakfast table before the sun came up. No one was allowed to stay in bed.
“Yes, I guess I am,” Emma said, ducking her head shyly, her cheeks absolutely flaming.
“You have a date!” Lizzie burst out.
“Yes, I do!”
Mam dropped her spoon into the pancake batter and gripped the edge of the countertop with one hand. Slowly she turned toward Emma, her mouth open, but no sound came out. She put one hand to her chest and took a deep breath.
“Who?” Lizzie squealed. “Who? Who?”
“Let me guess!” Mandy said, jumping up and down. “David?”
“No.”
“Sam?”
“No. Of course not.”
“I know. Joshua,” Lizzie said.
Emma said nothing, turning away as she tied her bib-apron string.
“It is him, right? Right, Emma? Joshua asked you for a date. This weekend? Is he coming here? Here to our house?” Lizzie asked.
Emma covered her face with her hands and laughed.
“Stop it, Lizzie. One question at a time. Yes, Joshua asked me for a real honest-to-goodness date for next weekend, and yes, he’s coming here to pick me up!”
Mam found her voice. “But…but, Emma! You’re so young! You just turned 16. Are you sure this is what you want?” she said, rather quietly and a bit weakly for Mam, Lizzie thought.
“I’ve been 16 for awhile, Mam,” Emma replied. And then she said something that Lizzie often thought about afterward, and it never ceased to amaze her.
“Mam, I’ve known for quite some time exactly who I want. The first time I met him, I knew he was the one I wanted for my husband. It’s just so real.”
Mam sat down almost as if her knees could no longer support the weight of her body.
“But … but … did you pray about this, Emma?”
“Of course, Mam, many times. Now I feel as if God answered,” she said softly.
“Did you ask God for Joshua, Emma? I thought we weren’t allowed to do that? Aren’t we supposed to ask only for God’s will when it comes to finding a husband?” Lizzie asked.
“Now don’t start that whole thing,” Mandy said as she placed plates on the table.
Lizzie thought about the last day of vocational class, about Mandy and Viola giggling together in the cloakroom.
“Mandy,” Lizzie said quietly, standing almost against her.
“Hmm?”
“You know the last day of school?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“When I was in the cloakroom, you and Viola came barging in there, your cheeks all red, and giggling together in a corner. What was that all about?” Lizzie felt a thud in the pit of her stomach, already knowing what Mandy would say. She didn’t even know why she asked her this question now, but she had to know the answer for sure. She had to know before she could handle another morning in the cow stable.
“What?” Mandy shrugged. “Oh, that!” She turned away to pick up the milk bottle and put it on the table.
“You know what I mean, Mandy. You know, too, why I’m asking. Just tell me the whole truth.”
When Mandy finally raised her eyes to Lizzie’s, she seemed almost apologetic. “Ach, Lizzie, I can’t help it that Joe likes Viola and not you,” she burst forth, quite miserably.
“Then he still does,” Lizzie said, just as miserably.
“Well, Lizzie!” Mandy said. “What does it matter anyway? We’re only schoolgirls who are not nearly old enough to even think about a husband.”
“But you know we do! And you know that John likes you, and the only reason you talk like that is to make me feel better. Good, if Joe likes Viola. That’s just great! I don’t care one bit! I’m never getting married, anyway.” Her voice rose to a hysterical screech. “And besides, I’m fat and homely-looking with pimples all over my face, and you’re thin and pretty with no pimples!”
There was an awful silence, with Lizzie’s outburst hanging in the air like a choking cloud of dust.
“O-oh, Lizzie! You make me so angry! Your favorite cry for attention is telling me how ugly you are. You know that’s not true. You know, too, that you are not absolutely unattractive. You just … you just wallow around in self-pity like a pig who is addicted to its mud hole.”
“Mandy, stop it. Now you listen to me. I would stop saying those things if you would understand how it feels to be me. Every time I kind of, sort of, you know, not real love, but I like someone, they don’t like me. The only person who ever liked me was Ivan, and he’s my first cousin. So, how, Mandy, tell me how, am I ever going to be able to get a husband? See, you have no idea, because John likes you, for real, and I guarantee he’ll end up marrying you. So what do you have to worry about? Nothing!”
Mandy just looked at Lizzie with her big green eyes; then she wiped her face with the hem of her apron.
Dat hurried into the kitchen with Jason right behind him, the cold air whipping past them.
“No girls to help milk this morning?” Dad asked good-naturedly.
“Mandy’s turn,” Lizzie informed him.
“That’s all right. Jase is about as good as you girls. Thirty degrees out there this morning,” he said as he hung his coat and hat in the closet.
“More snow?” Mam asked, trying to ease the tension in the room.
“Emma has a date with Joshua King!” Lizzie blurted out.
“What?”
Dat’s face broke into a warm smile. “Really?”
“I guess,” Emma said, turning toward the stove.
“Well,” Dat said, sitting down at his place at the head of the table. “I suppose you are 16 years old, after all, and that’s what keeps the world turning,” he said, grinning broadly.
“Not exactly,” Mam smiled.
“Is he nice?” Dat asked.
“You’ll see, Dat. Of course, he’s a nice young man. He’s … he’s the one I thought about for a while.”
“Good, Emma! I’m glad you take this seriously,” Dat said.
Mam returned to the stove saying happily, “Oh
, Emma, we’ll have to see what good things we can think of!”
“You mean to bake and cook?” Emma asked, hurrying to help her finish breakfast.
“Why, of course!”
Later, when Lizzie and Mandy were on their way to the barn, Mandy said, “Maybe we need to talk to Mam about all of this.”
“No!” Lizzie barked.
“Why not?”
“Well, you know how Mam is. She’ll give us this whole row about God’s will and I don’t understand what she means.”
“Lizzie, surely you know there’s a higher purpose than just our own selfish wills?”
“Stop acting like a little preacher!”
“Lizzie!”
“Well, you know I don’t understand God when he seems so far away.”
“I don’t always, either.”
“Okay, then.”
“But we shouldn’t feel that way. Mam says God should be more real in our lives.”
“Jesus is more real. He’s not as big and scary as God is to me.”
“That’s nice, Lizzie. I suppose it’s different for everyone. But I never think too much about a husband, not in a serious kind of way.”
Chapter 19
SATURDAY EVENING LIZZIE SAT in Emma’s room, watching every move she made. She couldn’t believe Emma was going on a real date with a young man Lizzie had never met. Emma combed her hair for the third time, leaning in over her dresser to get a better view of the right side of her head.
“Aren’t you nervous?” Lizzie asked for the fifth time.
“Of course, Lizzie. Stop asking me that question or I’m going to scream as loud as I can!” she said.
“Do! I want to hear you,” Lizzie laughed.
“It’s not funny. Go on out of my room. You’re making me nervous for sure. Go on.”
“No. I want to watch you get ready.”
“All right. But you have to be quiet.”
So Lizzie sat silently, her arms wrapped around her knees, watching as Emma finally got her hair combed to her satisfaction. Lizzie sighed with relief. She wasn’t too sure about having a date if it made you so nervous. Suppose Emma would just pass out flat on the floor from nerves? Then she’d have to go tell Joshua he couldn’t see Emma that evening because she had passed out, and he’d have to turn around and go home again. Wouldn’t that be the most embarrassing thing ever? She giggled to herself until Emma frowned.