Lizzie Searches for Love Trilogy

by Linda Byler

  “It’s going to snow in a few weeks, I bet,” he finished, as he buttered his toast generously.

  Lizzie watched with narrowed eyes, irritated this morning because he used so much butter. How could they all be chatting away happily as if nothing in the whole world had happened the evening before? Didn’t they know she was extremely apprehensive about her future and fighting back some rebellion about having to quit grading eggs?

  “Lizzie, pass the jelly.”

  Lizzie didn’t hear Emma, so she asked again.

  “Lizzie!”

  “What? You don’t need to yell at me,” Lizzie retorted sourly.

  So Mam kept the news of the upcoming job to herself until the dishes were washed and Dat had gone to the barn. She was wise enough to know she could not successfully approach Lizzie at the breakfast table when she was in such a stormy mood.

  After the girls were chattering among themselves, Mam told Lizzie about Darwin’s proposal that she work for their son in Dunnville.

  Lizzie dropped her mouth open in disbelief. She stared at Mam without saying a word.

  “Well?” Mam finished.

  “Darwin’s son? They’re Mennonites and use electricity, don’t they? Well, you know that I don’t know the first thing about sweepers and automatic washers and dryers and … and … toasters!” she wailed.

  Mandy burst out laughing and Emma promptly joined in. Mam hid her smile as she assured Lizzie that she was able to learn how to use electric appliances and that she was sure Darwin’s daughter-in-law would willingly teach her.

  Lizzie sagged on the bench and leaned against the kitchen wall, her arms crossed defiantly in front of herself.

  “Emma can go!” she burst out.

  “No, Lizzie, Emma cannot go. You can,” Mam said.

  “I’d rather grade eggs!”

  “No, you’re not going back there, Lizzie. We can’t trust you after the things you told us last evening.”

  Lizzie was so angry she could not speak. The lump in her throat threatened to choke her as she bit her lip, glaring at Mam.

  “You know that this new job can’t be any worse than staying an entire week in Amish homes,” Emma volunteered, trying to cheer Lizzie.

  “You like to work away!” Lizzie spat out vehemently.

  “Now girls, that’s enough. I worked in English homes at your age, Lizzie, and it’s not going to hurt you a bit. And yes, you’ll be staying for a week at a time, sleeping there overnight, so you’ll need a suitcase,” Mam said firmly.

  “But … but … it’s my birthday, Mam! I’ll be 16! Surely when your daughters turn 16, they should be treated at least a bit special, shouldn’t they?”

  “We’ll have a birthday cake when you come back on the weekend,” Mam assured her. “Plus we’ll have all your presents, just like we did for Emma.”

  Lizzie clamped her mouth shut and said nothing. Maybe if everyone was so mean to her, she’d just become English.

  “I think I’ll leave the Amish,” Lizzie ventured out loud.

  Emma and Mandy stared at her. Mam frowned.

  “Lizzie, now grow up and act your age,” Mam said. “That kind of talk is exactly why we can’t trust you to grade eggs for Darwin anymore.”

  “I’ll be so old and tired when I get back, I’ll never get a boyfriend,” Lizzie said, trying not to laugh.

  “Well, then, I guess you’ll be an old maid,” Mam said.

  For a moment, Lizzie indulged herself, imagining how it would feel to be English. She had taken these mind excursions ever since she was a little girl. They had started when she had sneaked a moment by the magazine racks at the grocery store while Mam shopped.

  She loved to look at all the fashionable girls on those glossy pages. They were so fascinating, with long, shining blond hair and wearing all kinds of beautiful clothes. How would it be to look like that? She had always longed for high-heeled shoes after all. But she knew there was no way she could be like the women in the magazine.

  She was Amish, and Amish people dressed plain. She had been content most of the time to dress in the clothes Mam made, pin her covering on, and go. She was starting to understand that there was a lot more to life than trying to get Mam to buy her a pair of high heels or even seeing Don Albert.

  Being Amish kind of settled things. The English world was beyond her reach. That was just how life was if you were Amish, and Lizzie was pretty sure that she really didn’t want to be anything else. She loved her secure circle of family and friends. And how could she ever hurt Mam and Dat by telling them she was going to leave the church? She wouldn’t know how to be English now even if she tried.

  Chapter 26

  THE WEATHER TURNED PREDICTABLY colder with gray skies and a biting wind as Lizzie carried her suitcase to Darwin’s car a few days later.

  She had used up all her protests, including the one about a snowstorm keeping her stranded in Dunnville. There was absolutely no use. Mam smiled at her lovingly, telling her to keep her chin up when she left, which did very little to help her depressing thoughts.

  The farther they traveled, the more Lizzie fought her anxiety. It seemed to take forever, through the large town where Mam had lain in the hospital with pneumonia, onto a big three-lane highway, past industrial sites and places of business, until the countryside turned into an agricultural area with large red barns, neat white houses, and tall blue silos. Seeing that hospital only heightened Lizzie’s anxiety on this harsh morning—and she couldn’t shake the uncertainty that suddenly filled her. The last time she had been in this town, Mam was very sick.

  But soon they were winding their way through the countryside again. At a crossroads, Darwin slowed the car and turned onto a winding gravel road. They snaked between hills and woods, twisting and turning until it seemed as if they had entered another world. The fields were brown and bare with only the stubbles of the corn crop showing, along with dead grasses flattened by the icy rains of autumn.

  As they turned right and started the steep ascent up a winding dirt driveway, Lizzie clutched the door handle until her knuckles turned white. A large, rambling old farmhouse stood at the top of a hill with a huge barn and outbuildings opposite it. The whole farm looked as if was run by a very busy person trying to do all the work by himself.

  “You are about to meet young parents who need some help right now,” Darwin remarked. He turned to look at Lizzie whose eyes were wide with consternation.

  “I hope you can feel at home here,” he added.

  Lizzie took a deep breath, mostly to summon all the courage she could. “I … I’m sure I’ll be fine,” she said without much conviction.

  Darwin led her down the sidewalk to the front door, streaked with mud from the farmer’s boots. The entry was cluttered with children’s clothes, boots and shoes, boxes, and newspapers, with a smell which belonged to all farmers’ clothes. Darwin opened the kitchen door, and Lizzie walked into a large white room with bright lights illuminating every object. She saw dishes waiting to be done, a table holding the remains of the evening meal, and clutter everywhere.

  Darwin heard the delightful squeals of his grandchildren in the living room. He headed for that side of the house. Lizzie didn’t know what she should do, so she stood rooted to the kitchen linoleum, blinking in the strange, brilliant lights, and wishing with all her heart that she could go home to Mam and Dat.

  “Lizzie, come meet Amanda,” Darwin called, already seated on the recliner with a toddler on each knee.

  Lizzie set down her suitcase and walked across the carpeted area. Amanda smiled up at Lizzie from her comfortable position on the sofa and extended her hand. “So you’re Lizzie! My, I’m so glad to have someone come to help out. You’ll have to excuse everything, because it’s just a grand mess.”

  Her tinkling laughter captivated Lizzie, and she smiled back, immediately feeling relaxed. Amanda was small and round. She had beautifully thick, wavy, dark hair combed loosely over her head, with a small Mennonite covering pinned on the back.
Her complexion was flawless. Her small upturned nose made her look like she was 16.

  Lizzie told her that things really didn’t look that bad, explaining how much work was involved when the twins were born.

  “You have twin sisters? Oh, I would so love to have a pair of twins someday.”

  Lizzie stiffened slightly, going a little queasy in her stomach as she thought about any babies, but especially two at once. Lizzie still didn’t like babies. But that would appall Amanda. Emma didn’t understand Lizzie’s feelings about babies either. She loved to sew, whistling under her breath, which indicated that she loved what she was doing. And anywhere there were babies, Emma was watching the mothers, hoping for a chance to hold one.

  Lizzie figured that she didn’t like babies because she had been around them too much when she was younger. After all, Jason was still a baby when the twins, KatieAnn and Susan, were born. Emma and Mandy had been much more excited about the new babies than she was, Lizzie remembered.

  “Are we really going to have another one? Jason is still a baby, sort of. And besides, he’s finally cute, and now we don’t have to have more, do we?” Lizzie had asked.

  “Lizzie, you just aren’t normal! Why don’t you like babies more? You should be ashamed of yourself,” Emma said.

  “I guess,” Lizzie said slowly.

  “You could grow up and be glad. It’s a blessing to have children,” Emma told her.

  Lizzie sighed as Amanda showed her around the kitchen. Maybe she wasn’t normal, like Emma said. Oh, she knew she was normal as far as her brain working well because schoolwork was not hard for her. But maybe she wasn’t normal where babies were concerned. That was something new to worry about, seeing that Emma seriously thought so.

  But sometimes babies screamed for a very long time, their faces looking awfully contorted. Some babies opened their mouths so wide you could easily see their tonsils, all bright red and looking like kidney beans. Babies were just not something Lizzie was very happy to think about.

  But she had learned to hold a baby and figure out which end was up. Emma was a much better helper, because Lizzie got tired of babies quickly. But Mam told her she did well and that she would be a good mother someday, which made Lizzie feel considerably better about babies in general. Well, now Amanda needed her. Maybe she’d discover that babies and toddlers weren’t nearly as annoying as she used to think they were.

  Chapter 27

  AMANDA’S CHILDREN LOOKED JUST as charming as their mother. Two boys with reddish brown hair and large brown eyes full of mischief bounced around on Darwin’s lap. And littlest of all was a wee child of about two with a riot of reddish curls all over her head, a face peppered with tiny little freckles, and huge blue eyes. She was so tiny and looked so fragile that she reminded Lizzie of a porcelain doll. She hid behind the recliner, and when she thought she wasn’t being noticed, peeped out at Lizzie. She resembled a rabbit, blinking her eyes without moving otherwise.

  Amanda watched and smiled at Lizzie. “They’ll be a handful for you. The oldest one is Timmy, then Martin, and the little girl is Bethany.”

  What an adorable name for an adorable child, Lizzie thought. Her ruffled dress had lavender daisies strewn into the fabric, which now, Lizzie thought, made her seem like a fairy.

  Suddenly, Lawrence appeared. A husky farmer, he wore a red bill cap with a seed corn logo on it, muddy jeans, and a green work jacket. He smiled appreciatively at Lizzie and invited her to make herself at home, just as Amanda had done.

  After peeping at Rosanne, the tiny newborn, Lizzie followed Amanda upstairs. Amanda showed Lizzie where she would sleep and apologized for the fact that she had to go through the children’s room to get to her own.

  The upstairs was freezing cold, but Lizzie was quite accustomed to a drafty old farmhouse, so it didn’t bother her much at all.

  She was just grateful to have a room of her own, even if it was cold. The tall, dark four-poster bed had a clean white quilt on it, and plenty of thick pillows made it look very comfortable. She hung her dresses in the closet and unpacked her suitcase as Amanda returned to the children.

  Lizzie took only a moment to part the white curtains and gaze out at the barren, lonely-looking fields. Her longing to be at home with her family only deepened, but she resolutely turned and, with a deep breath, made her way downstairs and to her duties.

  She rolled up her sleeves, washed dishes, emptied garbage, burned trash, swept, dusted, scrubbed floors, and prepared meals. The hardest part was making meals, because Mam did almost all of the cooking at home. Amanda helped her get each meal started, but then Lizzie was on her own to figure out how to fix everything and get all the food on the table at once and on time.

  The kitchen had never been Lizzie’s favorite place, except for eating, of course. Lizzie would need every ounce of resolve today. At home, they mashed potatoes by hand, plunging a sturdy hand-held masher into a steaming stainless-steel kettle filled with soft-boiled potatoes. But Amanda brought out a strange contraption that she plugged into an electrical outlet. She pressed a button and the beaters began to spin at an alarming speed.

  “Here, use the mixer to mash the potatoes. It’s so much easier,” she said, heading into the living room as the baby’s shrill cry sounded through the house.

  Carefully, Lizzie held the mixer in what she hoped was the right position and pressed the button. Instantly her hand vibrated and chunks of soft, hot potato flew out of the bowl, landing with soft, sodden plops at her feet. Lizzie quickly bent to pick them up, hurriedly rinsing the globs of potatoes under running water before returning them to the bowl. Grimly, she repositioned the mixer, pressed the button, and tried again. This time the potatoes hit the back of the countertop and slid behind the glass canister set.

  Her face turning red, and her mouth tight, Lizzie returned the steaming potatoes to the bowl, held the mixer as straight as possible, and pressed the button only halfway. She was rewarded by the beater starting more slowly. The potatoes began to mash, and then all at once, the thing stopped.

  Oh, dear, Lizzie thought wildly. Now I’ve clogged everything up. She pressed the button as hard as she could and was horrified to hear a high, thin whine. The potatoes flew first around the bowl, and then out onto the countertop, onto Lizzie’s shoes, and onto her apron. Some even landed in the sink.

  She was almost in tears when she heard Amanda’s giggle directly behind her.

  “The mixer giving you a hard time?” she asked as she patted her baby’s little bottom, a diaper draped across her shoulder.

  Lizzie turned sheepishly, her face red with embarrassment. “I just can’t seem to get the right speed,” she said nervously.

  “It takes some getting used to,” Amanda said easily and handed the baby to Lizzie. With a skill born of practice, she pressed the button lightly, finding the proper speed. The potatoes whirred into a fluffy mass. She added salt and butter and a small amount of milk at regular intervals until the mashed potatoes were finished.

  With Amanda’s easygoing, good-natured attitude, Lizzie learned to relax, ask questions, and take her time discovering the whole world of electricity. Toasters, blenders, automatic washers, dryers, and even the steam iron, which she used to iron Bethany’s small ruffled dresses, were all new and strange to her.

  Every evening she was bone-weary, grateful for a good hot bath and her warm bed with the heavy quilts which kept her snug and warm through the long winter nights. The children’s chatter kept her awake a few nights, but not for long, she was so tired.

  Lizzie’s sixteenth birthday fell on Thursday of her week at Lawrence and Amanda’s. She woke up feeling much the same as always, although she knew she was crossing a big threshold into a new chapter of her life. Turning 16 was a long-awaited moment. Now she could be with the youth every Sunday. She could even start dating. How thrilling to wake up on a Thursday morning and realize that she had become a young woman.

  Lizzie sat up in bed and stretched, wondering if Mam and Emma were reme
mbering her birthday, and if they had gifts ready to wrap for her. She missed Mandy terribly, and the thought of being with her whole family made her giddy with anticipation.

  Only two more days and I’ll be going home, she smiled. Home had never seemed more dear to her than at this moment. She had often been away from home, but never over a birthday, and certainly never for her sixteenth.

  Lizzie dutifully went about each task, whistling lightly under her breath as she hurried along. Two more days, two more days, she hummed in rhythm to her movements. The children could sense her lively mood and teased her playfully. They kept getting in her way and being generally annoying with little mishaps that wore on her patience.

  Later that afternoon the door burst open and Lawrence stepped into the kitchen, shaking his hands and blowing on them to warm up. His cap was pulled low over his forehead, his collar was turned up, and his ears were red from the cold.

  “We better get ready!” he announced in his usual enthused manner. “Feed man says there’s about two feet of snow on the way with high winds.”

  Lizzie dropped the towel she was folding and opened her eyes wide in absolute disbelief. How could he come in like that, as if this was the most exciting event of the year? Didn’t he know how desperately she wanted to go home?

  Lizzie’s mouth turned dry with fear and anxiety. She walked quickly to the kitchen window, parting the ruffled white curtains to survey the sky anxiously. Oh, mercy! The sky was a flat, leaden gray with not a glimmer of sunshine or any puffy clouds to dispel her fears.

  Amanda talked animatedly with Lawrence as the children skipped and sang about the coming snow.

  Lizzie fought back her fear, trying to hide her feelings from the family. No one even noticed her, so she went on folding towels, trying to conjure up enough courage to mention the fact that she would like to go home sometime before the storm hit.

  She opened her mouth a few times, glancing edgily in the direction of the living room where Lawrence and Amanda stood talking, only to lose her nerve and resume her towel-folding. Her confidence melted like an ice cube in hot water. They talked so long that she panicked, certain that they had forgotten she existed, let alone even thought about taking her home.