by Linda Byler
Lizzie slid a sideways glance at Stephen, wondering what he was thinking, and wondering, too, if he truly was the exact right person for her to spend the remainder of her life with, now that she had promised to love, honor, cherish, and obey him. She sincerely hoped so.
The thing about Stephen, though, was his inability to talk very much at a time, which kept her chattering on, kind of like a fish out of water, flopping around on the bank until it flopped its way back in. Sometimes when he became too quiet it worked on Lizzie’s nerves, and she said senseless things that annoyed him, she could tell.
His head was turned as he stared intently out the window of the side door, watching for deer again, the way he always did on the Water Mill Road. He should know that there would be no deer in broad daylight, especially in the frigid weather, and most of all, with the squeal of the buggy wheels that could be heard a mile away.
“You’re not going to see any deer,” Lizzie said, flatly.
“I might.”
“Not in this weather.”
He didn’t bother answering, so Lizzie toyed with the fringe of her black woolen shawl under the heavy blanket and felt nervous. He didn’t look very happy, and she was almost 100 percent sure she knew why. He simply didn’t enjoy this going from one place to another the way he should, and that made Lizzie feel very anxious, afraid that he might no longer want to go. What would people think?
After the last meal they had had almost a week ago at Aaron King’s house, Stephen had definitely been subdued, shrugging his shoulders noncommittally when she asked him why he was unhappy.
“I’m not, really. It’s just that … well, nothing.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Come on. You didn’t enjoy tonight, did you?”
“Well, your Uncle Marvin says everything, so there’s nothing left for me to say.”
Marvin and Sara Ruth and Amos and Sally were the other two couples who went visiting with them through the winter months, and Lizzie enjoyed them immensely. It was a bit of a shock to hear Stephen talk about her beloved Marvin that way. He was a very sociable person, easily conversing with anyone about almost any subject, which Lizzie thought was an extremely admirable quality. It was the way most of the Glicks were.
She thought Stephen was acting like a baby, but knew she shouldn’t say so because it simply wasn’t nice. She wanted to though.
“Marvin was always fussy and outgoing.”
“I know.”
So that conversation came to an end in a hurry, and Lizzie glanced at Stephen again. She still wondered if she should tell him he was being childish and that she couldn’t understand why he couldn’t enjoy listening to Marvin talk. Suddenly she remembered when she was 15 years old at a pajama party at her friend Sharon’s house, and how terribly left out she had felt, all because the girls loved Mandy. She had even cried all alone in the bathroom and had never told one single soul, certainly not Mandy.
Maybe that was how Stephen felt now, like going to the bathroom to cry all by himself because no one had noticed him. Sometimes you couldn’t help it when you felt like that, even if it was terribly childish and dumb. It wasn’t Marvin’s fault, not one bit. He was just being Marvin, oblivious to the fact that Stephen wished he’d be quiet and let him say something occasionally.
They pulled into the driveway, and John Miller’s wife, Suvilla, stepped out onto the porch and waved. While Stephen tied up the horse in the barn, Lizzie picked her way across the frozen ground to the house. Suvilla welcomed Lizzie warmly, holding the door open and shaking her hand over and over before directing her to the bedroom. A kerosene lamp offered its cozy glow in the quiet room. Lizzie took off her black shawl and bonnet, unbuttoned her coat, and slid her arms out of the sleeves. She laid her coat on the bed and took her covering out of the covering box, pinned it securely on her sleek hair, and tied the strings, gazing disapprovingly in the mirror.
The thing was, her forehead was twice as high as it used to be with her hair pulled back so severely now. She looked like that picture of a turtle in the Tommy Turtle children’s book. No matter how she tried, she just couldn’t get used to seeing herself with that high forehead.
She heard Suvilla chattering on as she returned to the hallway just as Sara Ruth and Sally arrived. Lizzie smiled with the familiar pleasure she always felt when she was with her two dear friends who had also just gotten married. Visiting was twice as much fun when you had good friends to share the evenings with. They giggled and laughed together, shivered and commented on the weather, all agreeing how glad they would be to have homes of their own and to be able to stay at home on evenings such as this.
Their husbands came into the house, and they all sat down around the dining room table. The supper was delicious. Lizzie enjoyed everything thoroughly, running her hand worriedly across her stomach under the table. Oh dear, this will never do, she thought unhappily, as she finished a whole piece of chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting. I have to stop eating so much this late in the evening.
She glanced at Stephen, who seemed to be enjoying himself, talking to Marvin and Amos. John was getting into the conversation as well. Good, Lizzie thought. Maybe it was just that one evening that was a problem and everything will go well from here on.
After the dishes were done, the Millers gave the couples their wedding gifts—stainless steel bowls for the young women and pitchforks for the men. These were good, useful items they were grateful for, and Lizzie thanked her hostess genuinely, telling her she didn’t have that size bowls at all. Aaron would not let them leave before they had played a few tricks, including “Where’s Jack?” a game where a blindfolded player stumbled across the kitchen, trying to reach his opponent. It was as hilarious as always.
Lizzie left the house with Stephen, filled with a warm happy feeling, thankful for the gifts, and appreciative of the good meal and secure relationship with older members of this close-knit group of Amish people. As they left this home, Lizzie felt keenly the strong ties of love she had for each family, never wanting to say anything bad about these evenings.
So she was relieved when Stephen seemed happy on the way home, talking more than usual. He told her that Marvin and Sara Ruth were planning to move into temporary living quarters in their new shop, and then take their time building a new house, instead of rushing as he had to for his and Lizzie’s house.
Rushing along? Lizzie lowered her eyebrows and tried not to say what she thought, she was so incredulous. Rushing? In her opinion, the house was coming along at an unbelievably slow pace, so she couldn’t understand what Stephen meant.
“Rushing? Do you think we’re hurrying on our house?” she asked.
“Why, of course!” he said, loudly.
“But …?”
“Oh, I know. It’s not fast enough for you. But to think we’re only working in the evenings and on Saturdays, I think we’re pushing it.”
“But … but … at the rate the house is going, we won’t be moved in till spring!” Lizzie said in a voice that tried very hard not to be a wail.
“We can move before that. I was thinking of moving into the basement anyway, now that we have running water. If I do a bit of plumbing, and if we bought a heating stove and some carpet, we could move.”
“Really?”
“If you want to. I’m ready to live by ourselves, even if it means living in an unfinished basement.”
“Oh, goody!” Lizzie clutched Stephen’s arm excitedly. “That will be so cozy!”
“You won’t think all the sawdust seeping through the ceiling is cozy, Lizzie,” he laughed.
“I don’t care. You can wipe sawdust away. Oh, let’s do! Let’s move in a week!”
“We could.”
And so they did. The following week, Mam helped Lizzie clean and scrub. Dat and Jason put up temporary shelving for Lizzie’s dishes, they laid pieces of carpeting on the fresh concrete, connected the plumbing, and generally made the basement quite livable.
&nb
sp; On the day they moved the new furniture to the basement, the weather turned surprisingly warm and balmy for February. Lizzie thought happily that this was very likely a good omen. Perhaps they were being a bit impatient—unwise, actually—but, oh, it would be so good to have a home of their own.
The gas stove sat beside the makeshift sink with enough counter-top space to prepare a meal and wash dishes. The refrigerator stood beside the sink. The hutch, or “combine,” as the Amish called it, stood against the opposite wall, with the new table and chairs in the middle.
It was all very cozy, and Lizzie chattered happily all the while she unpacked her brown ironstone dishes, setting them in the combine. They strung sturdy wire from the chimney to the back wall and then over to the north wall, hanging old sheets to partition off a bedroom. The men brought in Lizzie’s bedroom suit from the farmhouse to fill the temporary room.
Joshua and Emma had not been able to come because their children were sick. Their absence almost ruined the day for Lizzie. She felt sorry for Emma, who, she was sure, would have loved to help arrange furniture the way Lizzie had helped her. But there was nothing to do about that now, so she tried not to pity Emma, knowing she probably didn’t mind as much as Lizzie did.
John and Mandy arrived late because of doing the morning chores, having two babies to bundle up, and then driving 10 miles with their horse and buggy. Lizzie squealed with excitement when they arrived, running over to Mandy and grabbing her arm, while Mandy’s grin spread the whole way across her face as she looked about the new basement.
“Lizzie, I can’t believe you’re going to live in this groundhog hole,” she said.
Lizzie stopped in her tracks, truly insulted.
“It’s not a groundhog hole!” she protested.
“I know,” Mandy smiled. “It’s just …”
“Not finished!” Lizzie completed the sentence rapidly.
Mandy laughed.
Mam didn’t think Mandy’s twins should be in the new house. Susan and KatieAnn kept them in the farmhouse so Mandy could be with Lizzie. The sisters worked side by side down to the last detail, hanging curtains over the small windows and putting a new tablecloth and place mats on the table, before they all trooped down the hill for Mam’s late dinner of chicken stew and dumplings.
Halfway through dessert, Lizzie could hardly swallow because of the lump in her throat.This was it. This was truly it. She would never live at home again with Mam and Dat in the old farmhouse with the new addition and Mam’s porch filled with “cheraniums” in the wintertime, all kinds of seedlings and transplants in the spring, and bountiful houseplants in the summer.
Now who would mow the grass and trim along the flower beds? That had been her job as long as she could remember, although Susan and KatieAnn had begun to do a lot of the mowing the previous summer. It certainly wasn’t Mam’s job. She never mowed lawn. She cooked and baked, cleaned the kitchen counter, tended her flowers and quilted, and the girls did the remainder of the work.
It wasn’t that the family couldn’t survive without Lizzie’s help, she knew. It was just sad to think that it was all over now. Her new life with Stephen would begin this evening when they were all alone in the funny little unfinished basement on the hill behind the farm. Lizzie looked up to see Mandy gazing intently in her direction. She lowered her eyes, willing herself to finish this last piece of butterscotch pie.
In Mam’s wise way, she opened the subject when the men returned to the new house and Lizzie stayed to help with the dishes. Dumping leftover applesauce into a Tupperware container, she turned to face Lizzie.
“So, this is it for you, huh?”
Blinking rapidly, Lizzie answered. “I suppose so.”
“Well, it’s the way God intended, Lizzie,” Mam said, sighing a bit as she wiped the container where she had spilled some of the applesauce. “He didn’t mean for us to be tied to our mother’s apron strings after we reach a certain age. Nature, the animals, everything God created, has its times and seasons. Birds leave the nest, baby calves are weaned, and on and on.”
“I know, Mam, but I just hate to think of this part of my life being over. All the closeness we shared as sisters …”
“I know exactly what you mean, Lizzie,” Mandy broke in. “And let me give you a bit of sisterly advice. Prepare yourself, because marriage isn’t all roses, no matter how much you love your husband. I’ll never forget the almost overwhelming nauseas before the twins were born, and …”
She giggled, holding a hand to shield her eyes for a minute. “I mean it, when I think back to those first months! What a baby I was—upstairs crying, wanting desperately to be home again, just wanting to be one of Melvin Glick’s girls again, and poor John was downstairs eating cold sandwiches for supper. All alone! Oh, how horrible.”
Mam threw her head back and laughed long and genuinely. Taking off her glasses, she wiped her eyes, still shaking with silent laughter, and said, “Ach my, Mandy. I remember that very same feeling. It’s all a part of life, of growing up and learning to become a more mature person.”
Lizzie leaned back in her chair and glared at both of them. “You think it’s funny, Mam. Well, I don’t. And I’m not going to have one moment like that. Stop talking such things. It gives me the blues.”
“All right, Lizzie. But really, it isn’t all roses and sunshine, just like Mandy said. You’ll have days when you wonder why you ever got married in the first place.”
“I don’t believe that,” Lizzie said staunchly. “I refuse to think that could be possible. You just weren’t … well, maybe you didn’t love John the way you should have.”
Mam’s eyebrows went straight up, followed by Mandy’s, and they had a genuine, “She’ll learn” look between them. Lizzie was so angry that she got up and said it was time for her to go back up to the house. So much for a tearful farewell, she thought, as she stalked up the hill into her little basement that promised to be a haven of pure marital bliss.
Chapter 14
A COLD FREEZING RAIN poured from leaden skies, driving in from the east in long, wet slashes against the small basement window as Lizzie pinned her cape once again for another visit. This evening they would be going to visit Elmer and Malinda Esh, a young couple who rented a farmhouse about six miles away. Lizzie looked forward to the evening since the Eshes were not much older than they were.
She was grateful for a good woolen shawl and the bonnet that afforded some protection from the freezing rain as she climbed into the buggy.
“Whew!” she gasped. “This weather!”
Stephen nodded.
“I’m worried about leakage in the basement, no spouting on the house, and the cement blocks offset the way they are, for bricks. I just hope the ground will contain the seepage.”
“Oh, it’ll be all right,” Lizzie said airily.
“I’m not so sure,” Stephen replied.
“Well, what’s the worst that could happen? Some water on the floor that will surely go down the drain?” Lizzie asked.
Stephen didn’t reply, only grunted, so she remained silent, although the thought of rain water coming into the basement made her bite down hard on her lower lip. Her eyes darted nervously to the rain streaming against the buggy windows.
She forgot the pelting rain, the basement home, or anything worrisome after she entered the cozy farmhouse kitchen and found the table set with Malinda’s prettiest dishes. The only light in the dining room came from real candles burning in their delicate holders.
Oh, but that was just about the classiest thing Lizzie had ever seen! She clasped her hands in front of herself excitedly. How romantic for newlyweds to eat by candlelight, which was always flattering to anyone’s looks. The imperfections of your face were well hidden by the small amount of light candles afforded.
The food was delicious, although it was different, without the usual meat and potato fare. Lizzie enjoyed the evening tremendously, eating too much as usual, promising herself that she would do much better at the next
meal.
Their wedding gift was a Tupperware pitcher, something new, with a lid that sealed so you could shake the liquid inside without it leaking out. Lizzie thought it was a wonderful new invention to be able to mix a drink without having to stir it with a spoon. Iced tea mix would no longer settle on the bottom of a container because you could keep shaking it at intervals, and the sugar would always be mixed through. Before this, you ended up with watered-down iced tea at first, and then tea that was much too sweet when the pitcher was almost empty.
When the evening was over, Lizzie dashed through the rain and scrambled quickly into the buggy, slamming the side door shut with all her strength before wrapping the blue and green blanket securely across her lap. She watched Stephen’s face as he frowned at the streams of icy water cascading down the window of the buggy.
“Still no let up,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.
“No. It’s been raining like this for …”
“All day,” Stephen broke in.
He urged George forward, and they went flying along, homeward bound. Lizzie was glad to go home to their own little house, even if it was unfinished. As usual, they took the team down to her parents’ farm, because there was no barn on their property yet. Stephen asked if she wanted to be dropped off at their house, but she shook her heard no, assuring him she could run up the hill through the rain as well as he could. They ran through the downpour together and arrived at the basement door, gasping for breath, completely soaked. Stephen turned the knob and unlocked the door, stepped inside, and stopped.
“What?” Lizzie squeaked.
Then she heard it. A decided splashing sound where Stephen stepped. Oh, no! Her heart escalated to her throat before banging way down to the pit of her stomach, spreading fear and anxiety through her. Water! Water everywhere! Her new furniture, the sofa, the recliner. Everything would be ruined, of this she was positive.