by Linda Byler
Mandy cut off a huge piece of cake, loaded it with vanilla pudding, held it in front of Lizzie’s face.
“Open wide!”
Lizzie did, and her mouth was promptly filled with a huge bite of cake, the whole spoon, and vanilla pudding squishing everywhere. Lizzie made funny noises, and Mandy threw back her head, howling with glee, as Lizzie struggled to keep everything in her mouth. After she had swallowed, Mandy jumped up, knowing from experience she would catch it from Lizzie.
Sure enough, Mandy tore down the steps and across the yard with Lizzie in hot pursuit. After racing circles in the yard, Lizzie plunked down on the porch swing beside Emma, panting.
Emma grinned.
“I don’t know why you don’t give up. You can never catch Mandy anyway.”
“She’s so skinny,” Lizzie panted.
Mandy ran up to the porch swing, backed up, and said, “Slide over.”
The peaceful swinging resumed as Mandy finished her cake and pudding.
“Emma, you’re going to miss us when you move!” Mandy said.
“You’ll come visit me, I hope.”
“Yes.”
“But you know very well how I always was, Mandy. This is what I wanted since I was a little girl, not much older than eight years old. To be alone in my old farmhouse, cooking and cleaning, baking good things and washing my very own dishes—it’s just too good to be true.”
“What if you get homesick? What if Joshua is mean to you?” Lizzie asked.
“He won’t be. You don’t understand, Lizzie. You were never in love.”
“Oh, yes, I was!”
“With who?”
“You know. Remember?”
“Well, yes. But I mean, you’ve never dated anyone seriously for years like I have. I feel actually closer to Joshua than I do to you and Mandy. Or Mam, for that matter. I just look forward to spending the rest of my life with him. Growing old together and having a whole pile of children.”
Suddenly, Mandy sat up very straight, blinking her large green eyes seriously. “I think I’m falling in love.”
“Mandy!” Lizzie shrieked.
Lizzie looked closely at Mandy. She could tell Mandy was dead serious. She had that certain set to her upper lip when she was not joking at all. Lizzie called it her “professor” look, all smart and wise and knowing.
“John Zook comes to church every two weeks,” she said, as matter-of-factly and rock-solid as a mountain.
Lizzie’s heart sank. Don’t tell me that Mandy will be exactly like Emma, she thought. Oh, please.
“I think he’s very handsome, and I think he likes me,” she said.
“How do you know? You never said a word to him, and he never talked to you either,” Lizzie said.
“Oh, I just know,” Mandy said. She started to hum in the most grating manner.
Emma got up, saying it was time for her to give KatieAnn and Susan their baths. Mandy and Lizzie continued to swing, watching the pasture as if their life depended on it. The tension between them was as thick as Mam’s potato soup. Lizzie was still secretly hoping John would ask her for a date, and that’s all she thought about Monday evenings. Well, she just had a feeling she knew why he didn’t ask her out. It was because he was very likely Mandy’s “meant to be.”
“Lizzie,” Mandy sighed, “I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you may as well not like John Zook. From the first moment I saw him, I had a little feeling that someday, if it was the Lord’s will, John Zook would be my husband, just like Emma and Joshua.”
“I don’t like him anymore,” Lizzie said, surprisingly quiet and reserved.
Mandy looked at her sharply. “You used to.”
“Let’s not talk about it, okay?”
“If you don’t want to, all right.”
The thing was, Lizzie had some thinking of her own to do. For the last few weeks she had been busy thinking of Emma’s wedding and pushing all thoughts of boys and dating aside. Uncle Marvin’s words about Stephen were stuck somewhere out of reach, failing to wake her conscience or reason. She wanted John to ask her, just as she had wanted Amos to. And now Mandy said she liked John, and it was almost scary with that Mandy, once she said something in that wise way of hers.
She sighed. Oh, well … if John liked skinny, big-eyed Mandy, then so be it. I’ll just never get married. They are building the new Amish school, the school board has already asked me to be the teacher, and I can hardly wait to get started at the end of the summer. So if that’s what God has for me, fine. At least if I’m an old maid, I can pack two whole sandwiches in my lunch with all the mayonnaise I want, and who is to care if I weigh 200 pounds?
She sniffed, and she shook her head.
“What’s wrong with you?” Mandy asked.
“A fly flew up my nose.”
They giggled and continued to swing.
Chapter 9
THE SUMMER BEFORE EMMA’S wedding was full of one busy day following another. Lizzie and Mandy often did the milking alone, since Dat was working on the new addition. Mam’s garden was full of vegetables for Emma as well as for the wedding. Earlier that summer, Dat had plowed a large area behind the house, past the apple trees, and planted potatoes and sweet corn. Mam called it her “patch.” Lizzie said it was more like an acre than a patch. It was huge, and often she and Mandy spent hours hoeing and weeding on hot summer days.
They also had a frolic on a Saturday in June, when they invited all of their relatives and friends to work on the addition to the house. Mam cooked and baked the week before, preparing huge amounts of food to feed the hungry workers. She made two roasters of fried chicken and filling. Emma was always proud of Mam’s culinary skills and worked diligently to learn all of Mam’s cooking and baking secrets. Lizzie didn’t care. She just ate the food.
Of course, Mam made cream sticks for coffee break in the morning. They were homemade doughnuts, with the dough cut in rectangles, fried in deep fat, a slit cut along each top, and filled with creamy vanilla frosting. Golden caramel icing was spread on top, resulting in achingly sweet, oblong, filled doughnuts, which in Emma’s words were so good it wasn’t even right.
When the men finished eating, they paid Mam warm compliments. She dipped her head, her cheeks flushed, basking in the words of praise. Dat acted so conceited when someone praised Mam’s cooking that the girls hid their smiles behind their hands. He wasn’t very tall, but he grew a few inches whenever that happened, Emma would say.
After the frolic was over, the addition was well on its way. Just like a miracle, a new basement and the skeleton frame of the living room with a new roof and windows were put in place. All through the summer, Dat and Jason kept steadily on, building and finishing the new living room until the day came when Mam went to town for a few gallons of primer and semi-gloss paint for the walls. Mam was thrilled with the light shade of blue she chose, saying this old farm was looking pretty good of late.
It was a happy summer, an exciting one, with Mam being more energetic and enthused than she had ever been since moving to the farm, Lizzie thought. And when Dat put down the hardwood flooring, rented a sander to smooth it, and then put on three applications of polyurethane varnish, she was almost in tears of gratitude.
“What a lovely, lovely, big living room!” she exclaimed, as she finished the final coat of varnish. “I’m almost afraid to have a wedding in this beautiful new room!”
There were five new windows, all freshly stained and varnished, letting in the fresh air and sunshine. Mam hung blinds in the windows. In Ohio they hang white cloth curtains and tie them back, but here in the East that was considered too fancy, she said. Mam had lived in the East long enough to appreciate the blinds, so she only said it a bit wistfully.
After all the furniture was put in place and Dat set the woodstove on the brick platform by the new chimney, it was just like a brand-new house. The twins squealed and shouted as they raced each other across the glowing hardwood floor, sliding in their stocking feet until they crashe
d into furniture and Mam made them stop.
Mam and Emma painted the porch railing, the kitchen, the brick part of the house, and every doorway and windowsill to match the living room. Dat shook his head, saying it was dangerous to be in the house because you’d be painted to the wall if you held still long enough. He was only joking, his eyes twinkling, and the girls knew he enjoyed getting ready for Emma’s wedding as much as Mam did.
They froze tiny little bags of corn, lima beans, and peas for Emma, in bags only big enough for two people. Emma beamed and giggled as she put one cup of vegetables in each bag, saying how cozy that would be, cooking supper for Joshua in their old farmhouse.
They filled little pint jars with pickles, red beets, grape jelly, and applesauce. They put peaches and pears in quart jars. Mam said two people could eat a whole quart of peaches before they spoiled. They canned beef, sausage, and little chunks of ham, all in pint jars that looked so cute, Lizzie found herself wanting to be married and making supper of her own.
Mam went shopping, buying sheet sets, towels, and washcloths. They made comforters from flannel patches—any color—orange, pink, blue, and hideous-looking patterns. Lizzie got all huffy about that, saying there was no way she would put anything like that on her bed.
“Oh, yes, Lizzie! This is exactly what I always dreamed of—patchwork comforters and quilts. Just wait until you see my old upstairs. It’s so cold up there in the winter that these warm blankets will be exactly what I need.”
“That’s right!” Mam agreed, around the pins in her mouth. “Just wait, Lizzie. Your turn will come, and these comforters won’t seem ugly then.”
Lizzie snorted a bit, thinking how they wouldn’t look any better at that point.
Mam had two quiltings that summer after the new living room was finished, inviting the women from church to quilt Emma’s quilts. Mam had pieced one the summer before called a “Dahlia,” blocks of small, star-shaped flowers made with lavender fabric on a background of white. Emma’s favorite color was lavender, so after the quilt was finished and bound, she was absolutely delighted.
Late that summer, Lizzie helped the Amish parents of the community paint and varnish the walls of the brand-new schoolhouse. The small, square building sat on the side of a gently rolling hill on the edge of Elam Stoltzfus’ farm. A little meandering creek wrapped through the pasture on the opposite side of the road, and pretty oak and maple trees lined its banks. The schoolhouse was about six miles from the Glick farm, so, of course, Lizzie had to go with the school van again.
Lizzie always thought it would be so much nicer to be able to stay at school later in the evening and arrive earlier than the pupils, but it would have been too expensive for the school board to pay for all that extra transportation. Sometimes, when there was a special event, she would drive Bess and the buggy to school, but Mam didn’t like that too much, saying it was too far. Mam took good care of horses, always pitying them if they had to run too fast or too long.
When school started the last week of August, Lizzie was as excited as ever, only without quite as many sickening butterflies in her stomach as she had her first year. She had successfully taught her first year, loving every minute of it, so she had less qualms about the unknown this time around.
She couldn’t believe her good fortune, being the first teacher in a brand-new classroom. The walls were so smooth, and the windows were all square with new trim. There was a brand-new blackboard, closets, and even new desks that were actually fastened to the floor. Her own desk was not new, but it was a good secondhand one, large and not as high as her old wooden one at the Mennonite school.
There were a few more pupils this year, all Amish children from homes and farms spread throughout a large portion of Cameron County. Some of them drove their ponies or horses and buggies to school, but most of them came with a driver.
The pupils were as excited as she was on the first day, exclaiming about and admiring the finished new school. There were Kings, Beilers, Zooks, Stoltzfuses, and lots of other common Amish names. The children were all loving, none of them causing her too much grief or worry those first few weeks. At home, with all of the wedding planning, there was no rest for anyone, so school was actually a welcome reprieve from the madcap pace in the Glick household.
By late September, the wedding was still six weeks away, but Mam was a nervous wreck, Emma said. Lizzie agreed.
Lizzie was secretly pleased to hear Mam and Emma argue and get upset with each other. All her life, it had been those two working together, and Lizzie was the different one. Even Mandy made Mam happier than Lizzie did most of the time.
Even when they were little and Dat taught the three girls to read the Scriptures in German, Lizzie had upset Mam. Each Sunday morning, Dat read from the Scripture, Emma read the verse after his, and so on.
Reading the German language was a bit more difficult for Emma, so it had taken her longer to read a verse. German had always been easy for Lizzie, so she zipped through her verse. Dat smiled at her each time she finished. But as Mandy faltered through hers, Lizzie noticed Mam’s unhappy expression. Now what had she done wrong? Evidently something, because Mam’s eyebrows were drawn and her mouth stern.
On they read, with the exact same results—Dat smiled at Lizzie, then sighed impatiently if Emma missed a word, until Mam opened her mouth.
“Melvin, I can hardly stand it. Emma and Mandy are trying to read just as well as Lizzie. You need to have more patience with them. If Lizzie can read so much better than the others, why does she have to read at all? She knows everything there is to know about German.”
Dat had stared at Mam. Lizzie felt like running out of the room and never reading a word of German ever again. Her feelings were terribly hurt. She had always been proud of her German reading ability. Emma did lots and lots of other things so much better than she did, just not reading German.
That’s how Mam is, Lizzie thought. She always likes Emma so much better than me. I’m not going to talk to Mam for so long she’ll know she hurt my feelings.
They finished their session of German reading, and Dat told them they were free to do whatever they wanted. It was an in-between Sunday, meaning a day their district did not have church services. Old Order Amish have church every other Sunday. This is an old custom that allows ministers to visit other districts.
Emma and Mandy wandered into the kitchen for a snack, but Lizzie went straight up the stairs to her bedroom. She flung herself on the bed, stuck her face in her pillow, and pitied herself. She planned on crying, but the tears wouldn’t come, probably because she was more angry than hurt.
After a while she felt a bit silly so she got up, smoothed her dress, and wondered what she could do to worry Mam. She didn’t care what Emma said. Mam always took her side. Emma never did one thing wrong. Mam should be glad she has a daughter who can read German so well. If Lizzie was a boy, she’d probably be a preacher or a deacon, and then Mam would be so happy to hear her read German in church. Mam ought to be ashamed of herself.
Now, years later, Mam told Lizzie she just couldn’t understand what got into Emma, it was a fright how determined she was to have her own way. And Emma cried to Lizzie in sheer frustration because Mam put her foot down, saying there would be absolutely no more than 250 guests, the house was not big enough for more. Emma begged and pleaded, but Mam’s nostrils flared, her mouth was set, and that was that. Lizzie felt very important, being in the middle of Mam and Emma.
A wedding was a mess. Everyone was on pins and needles all the time. Lizzie told Mam this wasn’t right. When it was her turn to get married, she was going to run away and go to the lawyer or governor or whoever it is that marries you. Mam laughed at her, saying she’d have a hard time getting either of them to marry her.
Finally, the day of preparation—risht dag in Pennsylvania Dutch—arrived. Everyone was up at five o’clock, except for Mam who had been up since three o’clock to bake enough pumpkin pies to feed all of the relatives. Emma said that was too ear
ly. Now Mam would be too tired to enjoy the day. But Lizzie guessed that if she wanted to get up at three to bake pies, she could.
Relatives began to arrive very early that morning. The risht leid, or the four couples who made the chicken and filling, arrived first. There was lots of work involved in that process, and they had to start early to get the roasting chickens in the oven.
The risht dag was a jolly day, almost more fun than the day of the wedding, Lizzie thought. Everyone hustled and bustled, smiled and teased each other as they worked together. The farm was truly a beehive of activity.
There were so many old traditions to follow. Joshua and Emma and their bridal party cleaned the celery. An Amish wedding had celery in everything, Lizzie claimed, but Emma corrected her, saying only in the roasht and the stewed celery. Oh, yes, and in the afternoon whole stalks of celery to snack on were placed in tall vases and set on the tables.
“Why celery?” Lizzie asked, as she scrubbed yet another piece.
“Because over a hundred years ago, our ancestors served whatever was in the garden at the end of the season at their weddings. That’s why we have chicken filling, mashed potatoes, celery, and cole slaw. The cabbage, potatoes, and celery all come from the late harvest,” Joshua informed her proudly.
“They grew the chickens in the garden too, huh?” Lizzie cracked.
The aunts were in the kitchen, baking pies and cooking vanilla cornstarch pudding and tapioca pudding while they also chopped celery, baked rolls, and just fussed up a storm. What a day to remember, Lizzie thought, with everyone full of energy and enthusiasm because Emma was getting married.
After the celery was all washed and sorted, the whole group took a coffee break and snacked on all kinds of cookies and doughnuts. Lizzie was cold and wet from washing celery, so it felt good to be in the warm kitchen with all of Dat’s sisters—the aunts—and Doddy Glicks.
The men measured rooms and set up tables and benches. Since the wedding service would be held in the same room as the one in which the meal would later be served, they had to know the length of each bench, exactly which bench went where, and how many tables filled each room.