Lizzie and Emma

by Linda Byler

  Mam started singing softly. Emma hummed along. After a mile or so, Red settled down to a nice trot, so Dat joined in the singing. He started his favorite song, the one Lizzie loved because he sang it so fast, and often his eyes twinkled and he tapped his foot.

  “There’s a dark and troubled side of life,

  There’s a bright and a sunny side, too;

  Though we meet with the darkness and strife,

  The sunny side we always may view.”

  “Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side,

  Keep on the sunny side of life;

  It will help us every day, it will brighten all our way,

  If we keep on the sunny side of life.”

  Lightning flashed and thunder growled as Red pulled the buggy steadily on the gravel road. The wind bent over the tall weeds that grew against the sagging fence, as they passed the old, unkempt farm. But Lizzie didn’t mind thinking about ghosts, and the Army, or thunder, or anything. It was so cozy and safe in the buggy when Mam and Dat sang together that nothing really scared Lizzie.

  She sang heartily, tapping her hand on her knee, and feeling so good and so safe that not even God or the end of the world gave her the blues. She guessed God must like when they sang, because Mam said He did. Lizzie hoped He liked this song.

  chapter 14

  A Lesson Learned

  Lizzie arranged her skirt across her legs and wiggled into a better position. She was sitting in an old lawn chair under the apple tree, her nose in a book, and a little plastic bag of pretzels on her lap. There was a slight breeze stirring the leaves on the apple trees, and katydids and crickets were chirping and clicking away. Lizzie didn’t really hear them, only in the background when she reached for another pretzel. She was getting awfully thirsty because of the salty pretzels, but the book was much too interesting to put down.

  The book was called Black Beauty. Of all the wonderful books Lizzie had ever read, this one was the most interesting. She cried when Black Beauty was sold to the cruel owner who whipped him and laughed at the little pony named Merrylegs. With every chapter, her love of horses and ponies grew, thinking how she would never, ever, not once in her life, mistreat a horse or a pony.

  Her thirst was getting really unbearable, so she peeped around her book to see if Mandy was in the yard. She couldn’t see her, and knew it was just as easy to get her own drink as it would be to start yelling for Mandy. She sighed, put her book down open-faced so she wouldn’t lose her page, and heaved herself out of the old chair.

  She thought of the red cooler filled with ice in the shop, wishing she would be allowed to have an ice-cold soda. She didn’t know why Dat and Mam didn’t let them have more soda. She wanted an orange one so badly, she decided to march right in and ask Dat for one. There was no sense in going up those stairs for a warm drink of ordinary water out of an ordinary spigot.

  The bell above the door tinkled noisily, and she winced, hoping Dat wouldn’t hear it. She wanted an orange soda, and she wanted it now. She would tell Dat later, so it really wouldn’t be stealing.

  The putt-putt of the diesel motor that provided power for the sewing machine was the only sound. Dat was nowhere around, although Lizzie looked very carefully, behind the counter, around the saddletree, even out the back door. She thought of calling for him, but decided it would be easier and she’d be more sure of getting a soda if she didn’t.

  Slowly she walked over to the red metal cooler, lifted the lid, and bent to peer into the dark recesses of black water. There was 7-Up, Coke, grape soda, and root beer, but no orange. Looking back over her shoulder quickly, she reached a hand into the icy water and moved the soda bottles. Sure enough, there was an orange one. She grabbed it, slammed the lid, and made a dash for the door. The bell jangled, setting Lizzie’s teeth on edge, because she didn’t want Dat to see her going out the door with a bottle of soda. It wasn’t stealing, because she was going to tell Dat about it, after she had already drank it. If he saw her go out now, he would probably make her put it back, and she certainly did not want to do that.

  She reached the old lawn chair safely, sat down, and unscrewed the lid of the bottle. It made a fizzy sound, and was so cold in her hand, it actually hurt, so she wrapped it in the hem of her skirt. First, though, she took a long, delicious swallow, found her pretzels, and ate a few. Mmm-mm!

  She resumed her reading, eating pretzels and taking cold swallows of the sugary drink. She was reading about Black Beauty telling Merrylegs he missed his pretty mistress, when she heard pounding feet coming across the yard. It was Mandy and she was flying. She crashed into Lizzie’s lawn chair and smiled at her.

  “Hey, Lizzie! I couldn’t find you. Do you want to play doll with me?” Her eyes opened wide, and her mouth dropped open as she said, “Liii-z-zz-ie!”

  Lizzie covered the soda with her hand, glancing at Mandy, annoyance written all over her face.

  “What?” she asked defensively.

  “You aren’t supposed to be drinking that!”

  Mandy looked self-righteously toward the harness shop. “Did Dat say?”

  “No. But I’m going to tell him as soon as I’ve drunk all of it.”

  “Lizzie, you stole it out of the cooler!”

  “Hah-ah!”

  “Mm-hmm! Yes, you did. I’m going to tell Dat.”

  “Do.”

  “Okay, here I go.”

  Mandy marched across the yard, her skinny little legs moving sturdily along, her mission to tattle on Lizzie foremost in her mind. That Lizzie. She had to pull hard, and could still barely budge the double door.

  Lizzie guzzled her soda guiltily. For some reason, it didn’t seem quite as wrong if the soda was all inside of her or something. Anyway, Dat wouldn’t care; she guaranteed he wouldn’t. Dat would have said yes, he just wasn’t there to say yes, so Lizzie was going to ask him later if she was allowed to have it. That’s how it was.

  She returned to her reading, but she couldn’t really concentrate, which was peculiar, she thought. She kept glancing nervously in the direction of the shop door, wondering if Dat was in good humor, whistling as he always did. It probably depended a lot on what kind of a mood he was in.

  A fly sat on Lizzie’s leg and bit her, hard. She reached down and slapped it swiftly, thinking how nasty ordinary houseflies could be. She forgot about Dat and Mandy for a second until she heard the shop bell tinkling. Her heart leaped to her throat as Dat came walking across the porch, his brows drawn low across his eyes.

  Lizzie had a fleeting moment of panic. She thought about throwing her book, pretzels, and empty soda bottle and running as fast as she could. But she couldn’t, because Dat had already seen her, and besides, that would only make her look guilty. She hadn’t stolen it, anyway.

  “Lizzie.”

  Dat stood directly in front of her, looking down at the empty soda bottle.

  “Hmm?”

  Lizzie pretended to be calm and unconcerned, reading her book.

  “Did you ask Mam for the soda?”

  “Hmm-mm?”

  “How did you get it?”

  “I just reached in and got it.”

  Dat looked away across the yard, then up to the sky, and pulled his mouth into a sour expression. He turned his back and looked at the shop for awhile, his shoulders shaking. Lizzie couldn’t see his shoulders shaking, because she was too afraid to even look at him. Mandy stood watching Lizzie, her mouth drawn into a severe line, her hands clasped behind her back, just waiting till Lizzie’s punishment was announced.

  “Well,” Dat said, “you know you’re not supposed to get sodas whenever you want one. Certainly not without asking.”

  “I know.”

  “So, get your piggy bank and find a quarter, and put it in the cash box where the soda is kept. Then you come to the shop and sweep everything real good for me, and we’ll talk about stealing things.”

  “I didn’t steal it,” Lizzie said.

  “What else did you do?” Dat asked.

&
nbsp; “I was going to ask you later. I just got it, not stole it.”

  “Alright, Lizzie. Whatever you want to call it. Just come to the shop with me now and help me clean up.”

  Dat stood towering over Lizzie, who was curled up in the old lawn chair quite miserably. She didn’t want to look at Dat, because depending how fierce his expression was, she would be afraid to go help him. Sometimes Dat gave them a spanking when they really didn’t think it was necessary. And sometimes, when Emma thought it was necessary, he didn’t spank them at all. So Lizzie could never tell, which was almost worse than getting spanked every time. She always thought if you knew you were getting spanked, you could be given up to it for a while. If you didn’t know, how were you supposed to handle it?

  She sighed, smoothing back her stray hair and nervously adjusting a hairpin in her bob. Slowly, slowly, with her head bent wearily, she walked the long way to the shop. She wondered if this was how Daniel felt when they threw him into the lions’ den. He didn’t even do one thing wrong. She was pretty sure Daniel would never have taken the soda. But really, it was all in the family. Lizzie knew in her heart she would never take a soda from a grocery store or someone else’s harness shop.

  Mandy skipped up beside her and grabbed her hand, slowing to a walk. “Are you going to be spanked?” she asked, her huge green eyes filled with love and concern.

  “Go away!”

  “Well, Lizzie, maybe if I go along in, Dat won’t spank you, because I didn’t do anything.”

  “Go away, I said!”

  Mandy went up the stairs, still watching Lizzie with worried eyes. Lizzie yanked open the shop door and flounced inside. That Mandy, she thought.

  “Here’s your broom, Lizzie.” Dat handed her a large wooden push broom. Lizzie took it, averting her eyes. She started sweeping furiously, acting as if the leather scraps on the floor were the most important thing she had ever seen. She started in one corner, making fast, furious strokes with the large, clumsy broom. Thump! Crash! Thump! She repeatedly hit the door frame, counter, or some other solid object. Dat went back to his sewing machine, trying as hard as he could to keep a straight face. Thump! Whack!

  The bell above the door tinkled and an English man walked in. He was wearing a dark navy suit, with a flashy red and yellow tie. His hair was smoothed back over his forehead and he wore a long, neatly groomed mustache.

  Lizzie stopped her sweeping for only a second to stare at him. He was tall and smelled like perfume, so Lizzie thought he must be rich. He looked like the men in the Sears catalog that came in the mail.

  “Hello, Melvin!” he boomed.

  Dat smiled at the fancy gentleman, so Lizzie knew it was alright. When Dat came around the counter and they shook hands heartily, she pitied Dat. He looked so little and plain and different from the English man that Lizzie thought Dat looked poor. But they were talking, smiling, and laughing, so Lizzie knew Dat liked this man and felt comfortable around him. She was glad Dat could speak English so well, that was one thing. Lizzie understood everything in the English language now and could speak it quite well. But Pennsylvania Dutch was still her “normal” speech, because it was much easier.

  She went back to work, her back bent while her arms pumped up and down furiously. Thump! Thump!

  “Lizzie!” Dat was turned in her direction, a patient but polite expression on his face. The English man was watching her, too, but he wasn’t smiling much. Lizzie’s face turned red, so she looked at the floor.

  “Would you wait to finish sweeping until this gentleman is finished?” Dat asked, more quietly than usual.

  So Lizzie laid down the broom handle, and, without looking back once, she scuttled straight out of the shop. Good, she thought. If that man was there, Dat would forget all about spanking her, and maybe he would even forget to give her a talking to. She sat down on the concrete steps and put her chin in her cupped hands, which rested on her knees. She curled her toes around the concrete step and thought of orange soda, stealing, and whether or not it was actually stealing if your Dat owned the harness shop. She wondered what God thought. For one thing, she was absolutely sure God saw her reach into the cooler, because Emma said He always saw every little thing that you did. How could He keep track of every person in the whole world?

  The shop door slammed, and Lizzie jumped, her heart leaping. Here he came! But it was only Emma, who was licking a big cherry lollipop, Lizzie’s favorite. She plopped down beside Lizzie, took a long, extravagant slurp on her lollipop, and looked at her with narrowed eyes. Lizzie looked steadily back at Emma.

  “Where did you get that?” she asked, pointing at it with her chin.

  “Mam got a whole bagful when she got groceries. I bet you can’t have one because Mandy said to me and Mam that you stole a bottle of orange soda,” Emma said, lifting her chin an inch higher and sniffing self-righteously, followed by another lengthy slurp of her lollipop.

  “Did you get a licking?” she asked, after she wiped her mouth carefully with her handkerchief.

  Lizzie just looked at Emma. She knew one thing for sure—she was never as mad at Emma in her whole life, so she reached over and slapped her shoulder as hard as she could.

  “Ow!” Emma howled. “What was that for?”

  “You don’t know if I stole it or not, Emma! You don’t know how I feel, or you wouldn’t act so … so … I don’t know,” Lizzie finished in despair.

  “Well, you don’t have to smack me. I’m going to tell Dat.” With that, Emma got up and was ready to walk into the shop, when Lizzie stopped her with clinging hands pulling her back toward the steps.

  “Emma, please, please, please, don’t. I’ll never smack you again, not ever, at least not for a long, long time. Please, Emma, don’t tell Dat I smacked you, or … or …”

  Emma looked at Lizzie’s red face, her pleading expression, and the ring of orange around her mouth. Orange soda was spilled on the front of her dress, so she knew it must be true what Mandy had said.

  They turned and sat down on the steps again. Emma kind of pitied Lizzie, because she was always the one to get into trouble. They sat quietly, side by side, while Lizzie felt more and more miserable. She wondered if Emma knew the difference between stealing and taking. She sighed, looking sideways at Emma.

  “Emma.”

  “Hmm?”

  “If you were really, really thirsty, Emma, and you were not one bit thirsty for ordinary spigot water, and all you wanted was an i-i-c-y-cold bottle of soda, would you think it was stealing if you took one out of the cooler, but you were going to tell Dat about it later? For sure?” Lizzie asked.

  “Well, that all depends if you were truly going to tell Dat. But were you?” Emma asked, looking long and hard into Lizzie’s face.

  “Of course, Emma. After I had already drank all of it—because, see, then I already had it, and even if he said no, I at least had my orange soda. See?” Lizzie explained, desperate to make Emma understand.

  “Yes, but … Well, Lizzie, that’s not quite right. You shouldn’t want something so bad that you just go get it.”

  “Give me a lick of your lollipop, Emma.”

  “Only one.”

  So Lizzie put the lollipop all the way into her mouth, twirling the handle for a very long time. Emma watched her, suspiciously, but allowed her quite a long time, to think it was her lollipop. Lizzie handed it back and sighed, looking off in the direction of Uncle James’s farm.

  “Emma, I am kind of sorry. I mean, a little, anyhow. It wasn’t really stealing, but … still …” Lizzie’s voice trailed off dejectedly.

  “Lizzie, I mean this very seriously. I don’t know if it’s really truly stealing if you take something from your Dat or Mam. I mean, stealing like a thief, where the policeman comes out and puts you in jail. But you still disobeyed Dat and Mam, which isn’t right. Would you do it again?” Emma asked.

  Lizzie looked over the fields and thought very hard. She watched an orange and black woolly worm inch its way across the concrete si
dewalk before she shrugged her shoulders. She said nothing, because she felt so confused. If only she hadn’t been so thirsty for it, she probably would have just been happy with an ordinary drink of water. Plus, she was so afraid Dat was still going to spank her.

  “Emma, I probably wouldn’t.”

  “Well, if you’re so afraid of a licking, why don’t you just go tell Dat you’re sorry, and that you won’t do it again?”

  “E-mmm-a!” Lizzie wailed. It was the last thing she wanted to do, because she wasn’t sure if she had done anything wrong or not, for sure.

  “Well then, you just have to take your punishment,” Emma said, getting up to walk away.

  “No! No, Emma, alright, but you have to come with me.”

  They walked into the shop together and Emma gave Lizzie a small shove. Dat was looking at a catalog and stopped to smile at them. “Are you two looking for work?” he asked.

  Lizzie took a deep breath. She crossed her arms on her chest and kicked at some scraps of leather. She held up her head bravely and looked directly into Dat’s blue eyes. “Dat, I am sorry I took the soda. I won’t do it again,” she said, in a loud, clear voice.

  Dat’s eyes crinkled at the sides, and a slow smile spread across his face. He bent to take Lizzie’s hand and pulled her into the circle of his arms.

  “Lizzie, that was very nice. I’m glad you apologized to me, and I’m glad you won’t do it again. I forgive you, Lizzie, I really do.”

  Lizzie looked into Dat’s eyes, and her small, hesitant smile turned into a wide one, and it made her steadily happier the longer her smile stayed. “So … so that means I don’t get spanked?” she asked.

  “Ach, Lizzie, I guess not this time. But don’t do it again, okay?” Dat said very, very seriously.

  “I won’t,” she said solemnly.

  Dat pulled her close, his beard tickling her forehead. “You didn’t finish sweeping, Lizzie.”