by Linda Byler
The neighbor girl, Fannie, came to stay with the Glick children, because they had to stay at home until evening, when Mam and Dat would come home to get them all dressed up for the viewing. Lizzie didn’t know what a viewing was, although she knew it was to look at poor Susie Beiler. She didn’t want to go, not really, because what if she saw Susie lying in her coffin and she felt so awful she would burst into tears?
She sat on the couch, her legs curled under her, chewing on her lower lip, trying to read her book. Her mind kept going to the dreaded viewing, until she could contain herself no longer. She put down her book, and went to find Emma. She found Fannie in the kitchen, taking big, plump raisin oatmeal cookies off a hot cookie sheet with a metal turner.
Fannie smiled at Lizzie, and she smiled back shyly. Lizzie really didn’t know Fannie very well, so she felt shy of her, not knowing what to say. She walked over to the sink and got a drink of warm tap water, pretending to take a long drink, so she could get up the courage to talk to Fannie. Turning, she cleared her throat, tapping her bare feet selfconsciously.
“Do you like raisin oatmeal cookies, Lizzie?” Fannie asked, trying to warm up to her.
Lizzie nodded. “Mm-hmm.”
“Even if they have raisins in them?”
“I like raisins.”
“Good. I’m glad you do. Not very many children like raisins,” Fannie said, her eyes twinkling at Lizzie.
“I even eat raisin pie,” Lizzie said proudly.
“Really?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Lizzie watched Fannie take a teaspoon of cookie dough and drop it expertly onto the emptied sheet. Her hands flew fast and she never made one cookie too big or too small. Lizzie didn’t know what to say anymore, so she sat on the bench and watched awhile, until she became uncomfortable, because it seemed as if she should be talking to Fannie.
“Where’s Emma?” she asked.
“She’s rocking Jason in the bedroom, because he cried for me. I just couldn’t do anything with him. Maybe I’m not a very good babysitter,” Fannie said with a laugh.
Lizzie didn’t know what to say, because she didn’t know if Fannie was a good babysitter or not. But just to make her feel good, Lizzie assured her she was a good one, or else she wouldn’t know how to make cookies.
“Were you in Susie Beiler’s grade in school?” Fannie asked.
“Yes.”
“This is all really, really sad. She was so young. I just hope her mother and father can bear up under this. I suppose, as everyone says, her time was up and God took her home. Another rose in His bouquet in Heaven,” Fannie said, clucking her tongue sympathetically.
“Mm-hmm.” Lizzie bit her lip, looking down at the cookie crumbs on the brown linoleum. What did they mean by saying her time was up? Did they mean everybody had a certain amount of time to live here on earth, and that was all? She couldn’t understand it, really, because it was too hard to think about things like that. God could just pick the time when you would die, Lizzie supposed, and then you died.
Lizzie did not want to die anytime soon. She could not imagine leaving Dat, Mam, Emma, Mandy, and Jason, and never seeing Doddy and Mommy Miller or Marvin and Elsie again. The thought made her feel so lonely and sad, she couldn’t stand it, so she got up and went into the bedroom to find Emma.
Emma was rocking furiously, holding Jason with his blanket, humming loudly. She didn’t look happy, and Jason did not look one bit sleepy. He sat straight up and pointed a finger at Lizzie, laughing happily because he thought Lizzie would rescue him from his naptime.
Emma scowled. “Lizzie, go out!”
“He’s not sleepy, Emma,” Lizzie said, holding out her arms for him.
“Then you put him to sleep,” Emma said.
“Why does he have to have a nap if he isn’t sleepy? Come, Jason.” Lizzie held him and Emma stood up.
“He would have gone to sleep if you wouldn’t have come in,” she said.
“Did Fannie say he has to sleep?”
“No.”
“Well then, let’s let him play awhile yet. We could take him outside on the swing,” Lizzie said.
“Okay.”
So the girls took Jason through the kitchen, informing Fannie they were letting him play awhile, because he wasn’t sleepy yet. She said it was alright, but to be very careful because of the road.
“There’s a fence around our yard,” Lizzie told her.
“I know. But watch him anyway,” Fannie said, bending to open the oven door to check a sheetfull of cookies.
Jason toddled off to the sandbox, happily chattering to himself. Emma and Lizzie sat on the swings, slowly swinging, not saying anything at all. Lizzie wondered if Emma knew what it meant when people said someone’s time was up.
“Emma?”
“Hmm?”
“Why do people say Susie Beiler’s time was up? It just sounds like when we have an arithmetic test at school and the timer goes off.”
“Why?”
“Well, Emma, think about it. How long do you think we’re going to live?”
“Ach, Lizzie, I don’t know. Why do you think such things?” Emma asked, clearly wishing she would be quiet.
“I don’t know.”
They swung their swings, digging their bare toes into the loose dust. The grass was growing really high around the metal legs of the swing set, but Lizzie guessed Mam didn’t have time to trim it with the grass shears. The sun was uncomfortably warm again, but Lizzie knew they would not be allowed to run under the sprinkler today with Fannie being here.
“Emma.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you want to go to the viewing? I mean, do you really want to see Susie if she’s dead?”
“Not really, Lizzie. But we have to go. Do you want to?” Emma asked quietly, looking closely to see if Lizzie really was serious about this conversation.
“Well, it’s just not fun to think about somebody dying. Especially if it’s your friend. I don’t know why it happened; do you, Emma?”
“No. I don’t, either.”
They swung in silence, watching Jason play in the sandbox. A bumblebee droned under the wooden eaves of the washhouse, reminding Lizzie of a little helicopter. She was afraid of bumblebees, but only if they sat down. When a bumblebee was flying, it usually didn’t bother anyone unless they tried to slap it, and Lizzie never tried to swat at a bumblebee. She wondered why it hurt so bad when you got stung, as little as they were.
“Do we have to wear a halsduch to go to the viewing?” Emma asked.
“Emma, look at that bumblebee. He looks as harmless as a fly, but, boy, does it hurt when they sting!” Lizzie squinted her eyes to watch it more closely.
“Lizzie, you’re not listening to me. Do you think we have to wear a halsduch this evening?” Emma insisted.
“What? I don’t know. Did you know a bumblebee stung Marvin in his eye once, and it swelled so badly he couldn’t even see out of it for days and days and days?” Lizzie asked.
Emma narrowed her eyes, looking at Lizzie. There she went again, stretching everything. She made little things seem so much bigger, and often it was only half as bad. Mam had often told Lizzie to be careful, because it was as bad as telling a lie.
“It was not days and days, Lizzie,” Emma huffed.
“Well, long.”
“I remember. It was once when we saw him, and the next time it wasn’t swollen one bit. Lizzie, you have to stop stretching things.”
“Girls!”
They turned at the sound of Mam’s voice, answering her in unison.
“Come now, we have to eat a bite of supper and get ready for the viewing,” Mam called.
Emma ran to get Jason, and Lizzie hurried up the stairs to start getting dressed for the dreaded viewing.
Later that evening, so many buggies went past their house, Lizzie could hardly hold still long enough so Mam could comb her hair, straining to see who was in every buggy.
They wore dark navy blue with black ca
pes and aprons pinned over their dresses. Their white coverings were pinned securely on their sleek hair, with the strings tied loosely beneath their chins. Mandy still wore a pinafore-type black apron, but Emma and Lizzie had to wear their halsduch, which is a cape, with their apron pinned securely around their waist.
They all walked together soberly, dressed in dark colors. Mam wore a black dress, because she was older, and everybody who was not a child wore black.
The sun was sinking behind the row of houses as they made their way up the street to Amos Beilers’ house. It was still very warm, but Mam said she was thankful the viewing was held in the evening, because it was cooler.
There were so many people dressed in black, you could hardly see the house. Lizzie wondered where these people all came from and if they even knew who Amos Beilers were. The buggies could not all find room to unhitch, so some of them had to wait beside the road. Dat and Mam shook hands with lots of people Lizzie didn’t know, so she had to shake hands as well.
Lizzie wished it was over, because her apron was pinned too tightly and it was so warm and uncomfortable. She was used to going barefoot in the summertime, so her shoes pinched her feet horribly. Her black stockings dug into her leg below her knee, making it feel like someone was squeezing her leg. Lizzie thought shoes and stockings were just not necessary, even if you dressed up in the summertime.
They entered the house, and Dat talked to a sober-faced man who directed them to the living room where the Amos Beilers’ family and their relatives were sitting. Lizzie peeped around Mam’s skirt to see, and was suddenly overcome with pity for all of them.
Amos looked so tired and sad, and there was a stranger crying with Susie’s mother, who was wiping her eyes with her wet, wrinkled handkerchief. Susie’s sisters looked so warm and tired, shaking hands and saying things to the seemingly endless row of people.
Mam and Dat slowly made their way through the kitchen, shaking hands, acknowledging acquaintances with a nod or a smile, Emma and Lizzie following politely.
When they came to Susie’s parents, Mam hugged her mother, and they cried together, while Dat’s face worked with emotion as he talked in low, serious tones to Amos. Emma fished around in her pocket for her handkerchief and cried softly because Mam was crying. Mandy watched the women carefully with her large, solemn green eyes, while Lizzie just became steadily warmer and more nervous, casting anxious looks at the closed door where she saw small groups of people enter.
A tall, bearded man told them to come this way, and he opened the door to the room where Lizzie supposed Susie lay. Her heart started beating rapidly, because she was so nervous. She had never seen a dead person before, so she did not know what to do or how she would feel.
The room was empty except for a small brown wooden coffin in the center. It was lined with pure white cloth, with part of the coffin being closed. At first Lizzie thought there was no one in it, because everything was so white and blurry, but when Mam put a hand on Lizzie’s back to gently prod her forward, Susie’s face came into view.
Lizzie glanced desperately at her mother, who was softly wiping tears, and Emma had her handkerchief stuffed tightly against her nose, sniffling quietly. There was nothing left to do except stand close to the coffin and look at Susie, which brought such an unexpected rush of emotion that Lizzie didn’t even have time to stifle her sob. Mam put a protective arm around her shoulders, while she turned her face into Mam’s apron and cried.
Susie looked so real, almost as if she was asleep. Lizzie could not grasp the fact that she would never go to school with her again, and that her soul was supposedly in Heaven with God. She turned her face to look at Susie again and quickly turned away, because it just hurt too much.
Dat and Mam both commented on how natural she looked, and how she didn’t suffer, as death had been instant. They talked about the innocence of children, and again, the dreaded phrase of the fact that her time was up.
Walking slowly home in the warm summer evening, Dat said they were all so blessed to have each other.
“Yes,” Mam agreed. “We just don’t realize what a blessing we have every day, just having all of us together.”
“But now Amos Beilers’ have one rose in Heaven, which, actually, is one step ahead of us,” Dat said.
Mam nodded solemnly, squeezing Mandy’s hand.
“How can they be ahead of us?” Lizzie blurted.
“Well, we all want to go to Heaven, Lizzie, and one of their family is already there before them. Meaning, they have one ahead of us,” Dat explained.
“Oh,” said Lizzie, but she really didn’t know what he meant. Why, if it was so sad, were they one step ahead? This whole death thing just made no sense. Lizzie felt confused and irritable, because nothing made any sense. She guessed she didn’t have to understand any of it, really, since she was only little.
When they arrived at the house, Lizzie kicked off her shoes, pulling off her black stockings as fast as she could. She untied her covering, tossing it on the kitchen table, and was rapidly removing pins from her tight apron belt when Mam started making a pitcher of iced tea.
“Mam?”
“Hmm?”
“How can Susie be in Heaven when she’s lying in her coffin?”
Mam laid down the long-handled wooden spoon, kicked off her shoes, and untied her covering. She looked closely at Lizzie’s troubled face, and knew, as naturally as every mother knows, it was more important to answer Lizzie’s questions than to make iced tea.
She sat down in a kitchen chair and pulled Lizzie over against her. She helped her remove her halsduch and apron, folding it neatly on the table because she would need it for the funeral tomorrow.
“Lizzie, you look so warm,” Mam said tenderly, brushing at a stray hair with her hand.
“It is warm, Mam.”
“I know, but it’s summer.” Mam sighed and watched Lizzie closely. She was chewing her lower lip and her eyebrows were arched high, showing her anxiety.
“Lizzie, when someone is killed like Susie was, or if they die because they’re sick, or whatever the reason, their bodies stay here—the natural body we live in—but their souls go to be with Jesus in Heaven.”
“I know.”
“Okay. I think a soul is like a breath, which is actually your spirit that becomes like an angel when it gets to Heaven.”
“Oh.”
“It’s hard to grasp when you’re only nine years old, Lizzie, but that is actually true. We believe that Jesus died for us, you know, in the Bible story where He hung on the cross?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Well, because of that, our sins are forgiven, then when we die, we can go to Heaven.”
“Are you sure?”
“Not perfectly sure, because we live by faith, and not by sight.”
“See?”
“What?” Mam asked.
“You just said we aren’t sure. So how do you know where Susie is?” Lizzie challenged.
“All children go to Heaven, Lizzie. Their sins are forgiven without asking, because they are innocent children.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I am very sure,” Mam answered.
“Well, good. Because it worries me.”
“What worries you?”
There was a long pause as Lizzie struggled with asking her mother about why some people have to be lost, as the preachers say. But she only shrugged her shoulders and said nothing, because it was too dumb to ask Mam that question, even if it often bothered her.
“What?” Mam asked.
“Nothing. Is the iced tea all done?”
Mam stood up and pulled Lizzie against her, wrapping both arms around her shoulders. Lizzie laid her head against Mam’s halsduch, feeling as if she never needed more reassurance than the safe, warm haven of her mother’s embrace. Mam smelled like talcum powder, laundry detergent, and iced tea, but she felt even better than that. Nothing had ever come as close to being perfect in all of Lizzie’s short life as knowing Mam coul
d help when she needed it—the feeling that she would not need to lie in bed at night worrying all alone about scary things, because all she needed to do was ask Mam, and Mam would really know for sure how things were. At least most things. Someday she would ask her about what the preachers meant when they said someone was lost.
chapter 11
Fishing with Marvin
Afew weeks before it was time to go back to school, Dat asked Mam if she wanted to go to Grandpa Glicks for a Saturday, just to spend the day. Maybe he could help Doddy with his work, while Mam visited with Grandma.
Lizzie waited anxiously, clutching the corner of the wooden bench with her fingers. She wanted to go so badly, but she knew if she begged too much it wouldn’t help one little bit, especially if Mam was not in the mood to go.
“Let’s do!” Mandy sang out.
Jason clapped his hands and yelled, just because Mandy was excited.
Emma, always the careful one, asked if they could get all the laundry, cleaning, and yard mowing done on Friday if they went away all day Saturday.
“Oh, Emma, you’re always so worried about the work. I suppose we could go if you girls helped me extra good on Friday. We just won’t work in the garden or trim around the flower beds this week, because I should bake something to take along,” Mam mused.
“Good! Oh, goody!” Lizzie whooped. “We can go fishing with Marvin and Elsie!”
Dat smiled widely, looking closely at Mam to make sure she really wanted to go. Because she lived so far away from her own family he sometimes felt guilty if they spent all their spare time with his own. Mam told the girls it was just a part of her life, not being able to spend time with her own family, because of the distance. Lizzie thought Mam was brave, but sometimes she was grouchy to Dat’s sisters, the aunts. When Mam’s nostrils flared and the color in her face heightened, Lizzie was sometimes embarrassed, because Mam said things that sounded sharp. But that was just how Mam was.
All day Friday, Lizzie tried to be a good helper. But things just went as they always did, she thought wryly. Everything went well for a while. Mam was doing laundry, while Emma and Lizzie got a clean rag, furniture polish, broom, and dust mop, and started cleaning bedrooms. Emma started sweeping, while Lizzie sprayed furniture polish on the soft, clean rag.