When Strawberries Bloom

by Linda Byler

  “Oh, don’t worry about it!” Lizzie yelled hysterically. “What do you care? I always make everything worse than it is. So who cares if Dat has a brain tumor or he’s going blind? As long as the cleaning gets done and the yard looks nice!”

  Great big tears of pain and frustration rolled down Lizzie’s face as she continued hurling senseless accusations at her sister. Mandy stood in the doorway, her wide green eyes filled with alarm as she stared open-mouthed at Lizzie.

  “Wha … what?” she finally managed. “Lizzie, what has gotten into you? You act like … like you’re not even normal.”

  Lizzie sat down hard on the floor, still holding the injured finger. Sighing, she grabbed a few Kleenexes from the nightstand, honked loudly into them, and dried her tears. She pushed back a few strands of her brown hair, adjusted her covering, and straightened her black bib apron. Mandy sat down quietly, watching as Lizzie regained her composure. She knew it was better to remain quiet for awhile once Lizzie was in one of these moods.

  “All right,” Lizzie said finally. “Sorry.”

  Mandy still said nothing.

  “I said, sorry,” Lizzie repeated, glancing at Mandy quickly before her eyes fell at Mandy’s pitying gaze.

  “I know.”

  “Well, say something.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Lizzie took a deep breath before the words began tumbling out miserably. She was very, very worried about Dat. She had a feeling deep down inside that it was something more than just a fog in front of his eyes. And she couldn’t stop thinking about what Marvin had said about Stephen and his feelings for her.

  “Lizzie, I could just shake you,” Mandy said sharply. “Don’t cross the bridge before you get to it about Dat. Nobody knows, and it might not even be serious. What crawled over you?”

  That was their favorite question to ask when they wanted to know what was wrong, or what had suddenly made the other person act in a strange way.

  Lizzie jumped up and started sweeping furiously. “Come on, Mandy. We’ll never get done at the rate we’re going.”

  So Mandy closed her mouth, turned and left, and resumed cleaning her own room. Lizzie swept and dusted her room, carefully arranging her pretty things a bit differently. She stood back to survey a basket of dried flowers she had placed in another area and smiled with satisfaction. That was better. Turning, she placed a candle on the opposite end of her dresser, only to frown at the emptiness beside it. She started whistling under her breath as she found a small wooden dish to place beside the candle, which really evened things out.

  Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she leaned forward to check her complexion. The dreaded blemishes were no longer as evident as she became older, so that was comforting. Same brown hair, plain, mousy, homely old brown, same as 75 percent of the population, she thought. Blue-gray eyes that sometimes turned green when she wore a dark, forest-green dress, which still made no sense. Same old rabbit teeth, but very white and not too bad when she smiled, she thought. She tried smiling deeply to watch for dimples, but even if she had some, they weren’t natural, quirky, cute dimples, instead more like an extra line in her cheeks.

  She smoothed her bib apron over her hips, wishing she was as thin as Mandy. Oh, well, too bad, so sad, she thought wryly. I’m not thin, never will be, but I’m not fat either.

  I wonder … I really wonder … She hardly let herself think. How did she feel? Why should she care? Why was she nervous? Why would she even think about all this? Stephen was just … well, he was just a good friend, that was all.

  She finished cleaning the bathroom, her thoughts in a constant whirl. Maybe that was why she was so upset about Dat’s eyesight. It was her yet unexplained, unaccepted nervousness about this evening.

  She had almost nothing to say as they finished the kitchen downstairs. Mam had cleaned the refrigerator, stove, and cabinets, wiping down the countertops as she always did. Lizzie and Mandy got down on their hands and knees, a bucket of soapy, clean-smelling water between them, and scrubbed the kitchen floor.

  “Good job, girls,” Mam said. “That’s a great feeling, having the cleaning done.”

  “Where’s Dat?” Lizzie asked.

  “He got up and went back to work. He said he’ll just have to ignore it awhile, and maybe it’ll go away. Oh, I certainly hope so,” Mam said as she watched Dat through the kitchen window.

  After lunch, the girls went down to the lawn shed for the mowers. Dat had eaten a hearty meal, saying his eyesight seemed a bit better and hopefully that would be the end of it. So Lizzie’s heart felt lighter as she found her favorite red mower beside the one Mandy always used.

  Before they pushed them out the door, Lizzie blurted out, “I’m not going away tonight.”

  “Why?” Mandy asked in disbelief.

  “Oh, I just don’t feel like it. I’m tired and … and I … well, I just don’t think I will.”

  “Lizzie, that is so absolutely not you,” Emma said. “You always love to go away and be with your group of friends.”

  “Mandy and Emma, do we have time to talk?”

  “Of course.”

  Lizzie bent down and picked a piece of grass. She looked at her sisters, then looked down at the piece of grass in her hand. She opened her mouth, made a sound, then closed it again.

  “What?” Mandy urged. “You are one strange person today.”

  “No, I’m not. Okay, promise me you will not laugh.”

  Mandy’s serious green eyes looked directly into Lizzie’s, and neither one wavered as Emma said, “I promise I will not laugh.”

  They all lifted their faces and howled with laughter. They laughed until tears squeezed from Lizzie’s eyes. Then they looked seriously at each other once more.

  “I trust you both. You’re always so wise; you really are. Now let’s not laugh. Okay?”

  “All right.”

  “Marvin told me that Stephen really likes me. Then Stephen told me he likes me so much he needs to leave the County for a while to get away from me. He’s going to help his uncle farm. How am I supposed to feel? I mean, you know how it always was with us. He … he …

  “Likes you,” Mandy finished matter-of-factly.

  “Yes.”

  “Go on.”

  “But the thing that really bothers me most is that I feel so nervous and worried. I don’t really want to see him ever again. And yet I do. I’m afraid that when he comes back, he won’t seem like plain old Stephen anymore. Not at all. How am I supposed to feel? How does it feel, Emma, when you’re in love like you and Joshua? So how am I going to know if he’s the right one for me? Suppose this nervousness is all wrong, and Marvin’s wrong, and Stephen doesn’t like me one tiny bit anymore when he returns, and I’ll like him as much as I used to like Amos?”

  All Emma said was, “You’ll know.” That was all.

  Then she was gone, off with her lawn mower, whistling in the nearly spring-time air. Lizzie looked over at Mandy who shrugged. Lizzie got up and hurried after Emma.

  “Stop, Emma! You can’t just go walking off like that. How will I know?”

  “Lizzie, you’ll know. You already do. God probably knew for a long time. You were just too thick-headed to hear him.”

  “Now stop acting like a prophet of some sort, Miss Know-It-All!”

  Lizzie grabbed Emma’s apron strings and pulled the bow loose, then ran to her mower and started pushing it as fast as she could. Oh, my! Oh, my! I’m going to go out tonight after all, Lizzie thought. That Emma. She thinks she knows everything. But really, she does.

  Lizzie’s heart sang as the mower cut the light green grass in an even swath. She loved to mow lawn, and today’s taste of spring was certainly no exception. She felt some heat rise in her face, but she was used to the exertion of lawn-mowing. She kept steadily at her task. Her concerns about Dat’s eyes were pushed to the background of her mind as she watched him clean the cow stable. Surely there was nothing too seriously wrong with
him or he wouldn’t have the strength to lift those huge forkfuls of cow manure.

  Jason whistled at her as she stopped to rest, and she waved at him, smiling to herself. What would Dat do without Jason’s help? He certainly was a hard worker for his age, and Dat appreciated him every day.

  She shook her head ruefully as if to clear it, then stood up straight, took a deep breath, and put her mower away. It was time to clean the flower beds, too, and trim around them, so that would be a good place to be for awhile. On her knees.

  Chapter 8

  AS SPRING BEGAN TO warm toward summer, Lizzie’s concerns about Stephen were overshadowed by her interest in Emma’s future. Mam had begun fussing to Emma, wondering when Joshua would ask her to marry him, or if he had any plans of marrying her this year.

  “You’re young, Emma, but you’ve been dating well over two years, and sometimes it’s better not to be dating for too long,” she said, hurrying between the stove and refrigerator, preparing a quick supper for Dat.

  Some Amish youth weren’t ready to settle down right away, but not Emma. She had always been conscientious, aware of right from wrong. She had become a member of the church the previous year, taking instruction classes during the summer until she had been baptized in the fall.

  It was all very serious for Emma, and she did not have a hard time giving in to the instruction of the ministers. She seemed to understand about the new birth, and that the water poured on her head was the outward sign of an inward change of heart, of giving her life to God.

  Lizzie and Mandy both knew very surely, like the button on the flap of a pocket being buttoned securely, that they wanted to do exactly the same thing as Emma did. It never occurred to them that they wouldn’t be Amish their whole lives. They each had a deeply ingrained knowledge that when the time was right, they would become baptized members, the same as Emma. God was very real to Emma, and she calmly listened to Bible stories at a very young age without getting the blues like Lizzie did.

  Sometimes church made Lizzie sad. The feeling had started when Lizzie was a little girl. Some daughters sat with their fathers on the men’s side during church. Lizzie and Mandy often sat with Dat because they were both better behaved with Dat. When Dat walked into church, Lizzie would take Mandy’s hand, and the three of them would find a seat on a bench along the wall.

  Once an unfamiliar man sat down beside Lizzie, along with his two strange-looking boys. He looked a bit scary to Lizzie. His boys were wriggling around on the bench, trying to take their coats off. He didn’t help them, and Lizzie guessed he was mean to them. Lizzie moved as close to Dat as she could and put one hand under Dat’s arm. He looked down at her and smiled. Lizzie felt a bit better.

  Someone picked a song, saying the number in German. Dat found the page, and soon the room was filled with the sound of the slow German singing. Usually Lizzie enjoyed that, but for some reason, she felt like crying today. She blinked and tried to think happy thoughts, or at least something funny.

  Suddenly, the strange man reached over and pinched one of his little boys. Then he twisted the boy’s arm as he talked to him quite sternly. The little boy opened his mouth and let out a crying howl of pain and surprise.

  Dat looked over at the howling little boy, but then politely looked away. Lizzie sat and looked straight ahead, too. The boy’s father did not try to comfort him or make him feel better. He just sang loudly as his little boy wailed beside him. Lizzie had the blues. She was so afraid of that strange man, and Dat was singing as if nothing was wrong at all. She felt more and more dejected, even though she knew she was much too old to cry in church.

  Her nose started to run, so she got out her little flowered handkerchief and carefully wiped it. Even before tears formed, a sob tore at her throat. Dat looked down at Lizzie. He put his arm around her, bent low, and whispered, “What’s wrong, Lizzie?”

  With Dat’s kindness, her blues dissolved into tears, and she sobbed quietly. She hid her face in Dat’s mutsa, or suit coat, and cried. He patted her shoulder and asked her again why she was crying. Lizzie couldn’t tell him, because maybe she was acting like a baby. But she really did not like that man and his little boy. So Dat just kept his arm around her and let her cry quietly.

  Lizzie felt a bit better after she was finished crying. When Dat patted her shoulder, she relaxed. She thought of snitz pie and cheese bread and wished it was time for church to be over. She drifted off to sleep, dreaming that she was eating peanut butter bread and bologna, and that the black-haired man took it from her and dipped it in his coffee.

  Emma had never had any hesitation about church, just as she seemed so certain about Joshua.

  “Mam, don’t you know that old tradition of being asked to marry when the strawberries bloom?” Emma asked, her eyes twinkling.

  “Pshaw!” Mam snorted. “Never heard of such a thing.”

  Lizzie giggled. That was Mam, all right. Because she came from Ohio where the culture was a bit different, she didn’t like “these eastern old wives’ tales.” If it was an old Ohio tradition, it was all right, which always made Dat smile and shake his head. Mam was born and raised in Ohio, and that’s just how she was.

  “Joshua’s parents come from the real old traditional state of Maryland,” Emma said.

  “His mother doesn’t,” Mam argued.

  “Wherever. She knows all those sayings and even abides by them. Her favorite saying is, ‘We didn’t use to do that in the old days.’”

  “Well, if Joshua waits to ask you to marry him until June …”

  “Not June, Mam,” Emma broke in. “Strawberries bloom in May!”

  And sure enough, the next Monday morning, the first in May, Emma fairly danced down the steps, her cheeks flushed as she whistled nervously under her breath.

  Uh-oh, here it comes, Lizzie thought from her seat on the bench where she sagged wearily after a late evening at a singing.

  Mam had her back turned, flipping pancakes on the griddle.

  “Is that you, Emma? Come put the toast in the broiler,” she said.

  Emma obeyed, saying nothing as she pulled out the broiler drawer from the gas stove, arranging the sliced white bread in neat rows. Lizzie yawned, her eyes watering, and she dabbed at them with the back of her hand. It was nearing the end of school, and she was happily looking forward to sleeping in during the summer.

  “Boy, I’m tired! Wish school was over this week,” she mumbled.

  “Why?” Emma asked, straightening her back.

  “I could sleep later in the morning.”

  “You won’t be sleeping late too many mornings if we have a wedding at our house,” Emma said, blushing.

  “Who’s having a wedding?” Mam asked without turning around.

  “We are, Mam. Joshua asked me to marry him this fall,” Emma said.

  “What?”

  Mam’s spatula clattered to the floor as she whirled around, her eyes wide. Emma was laughing with tears in her eyes.

  “Really, Emma? For real?” Mam quavered.

  “Yes, for real, Mam.”

  Mam returned to her pancake turning, but Lizzie knew she only went back to her duty to hide her emotions. After awhile, when the pancakes were arranged on a plate, she turned.

  “So, Emma, this is what you always wanted, isn’t it?” But there was a catch in her voice, and her eyes glistened.

  “Yes. You know it is,” Emma said, almost shyly.

  The breakfast table that morning was absolute bedlam. Everyone congratulating Emma, everyone asking about the wedding plans, everyone talking at once while no one listened.

  Dat was very excited. His eyes weren’t bothering him as much these days, and Lizzie hoped that whatever had ailed a few weeks ago was gone. Dat could hardly wait to tear down the dilapidated old washhouse, add a new basement for the laundry, and build a large, new living room. He loved to remodel, fix things, and make them look nice. Mam always said Dat was never happier than the times he was building something.

  They plann
ed, laughed, and talked until Lizzie had only 20 minutes to put on her cape and apron. She flew up the stairs, threw on her clothes, and hurried down just in time to grab her coat as the school van pulled up.

  That evening as Lizzie and Emma swung on the newly painted porch swing, Lizzie suddenly became a bit wistful. She could not imagine life without Emma, and that thought suddenly took away some of the excitement of preparing for her sister’s wedding.

  “Emma, doesn’t it make you one teeny bit sad about moving away from here?” Lizzie asked.

  Emma looked over at Lizzie.

  “You sound sad, Lizzie. You’re such a strange duck!” She pinched her arm affectionately.

  “Emma, it isn’t funny. Don’t you kind of … well, just sort of wish you weren’t getting married and could live here with me and Mam and Mandy for always?”

  “Li-i-zzie!” Emma shrieked.

  “Well, don’t you? Not a teeny weeny bit, even?”

  “Of course not!”

  There was a quiet calm as the porch swing creaked and Emma slid one foot along the concrete floor in a rasping noise.

  Well, Lizzie thought, either I’m not ready to get married or else I’m just different. If I knew I had to move to Allen County, 50 miles away, into an old farmhouse with some strange person I hardly knew, I would most certainly have the blues.

  She looked out over the pasture that led to the creek near Charlie Zimmerman’s house, then back at the new living room and the freshly painted washline poles. She loved her home so much, there was no one going to get her to move away.

  Mandy came through the door with a cereal dish held in one hand and a spoon in the other. She backed up to the porch swing and looked down at Lizzie.

  “Slide over.”

  “If you give me a bite of whatever’s in your dish.”

  “Okay.”

  Lizzie sat tightly against Emma, and Mandy wiggled in on the other side. Lizzie peered into her dish. Chocolate cake and vanilla pudding. Mmmm!

  “One bite!” Mandy said, knowing Lizzie’s appetite.

  “A big one.”