by Linda Byler
Very seriously, she said, “Dat, I took two handfuls of nails out of the nailer. I’m sorry.”
“I saw you,” Dat said, just as seriously.
“You did?” Lizzie couldn’t believe it.
“Yes. And . . . I figured any girl who climbs up a stack of pallets and reaches into those moving nailer boxes has more nerve than sense. That was really not a smart thing to do, Lizzie.”
Lizzie searched Dat’s face. His eyes were deep gray-blue and serious, but not quite strictly serious enough to be angry. His mouth was not held in a straight, thin line; it was almost smiling, but not quite. So Lizzie was happy, because she figured he was actually kind of proud of her for being so capable of doing something almost dangerous without fear.
“It wasn’t scary. I wanted the nails too badly.”
“You are one determined person,” he said.
“I . . . I won’t do it again,” she said, pleating the folds of her housecoat as she watched his face.
“Why didn’t you ask me?” Dat questioned.
“You weren’t there.”
“I was in the break room. Did you forget there’s a window in it?”
“O-oh. There is,” Lizzie said slowly, as it dawned on her.
Dat threw back his head and laughed. Then he reached over and put his arm around her shoulder, squeezing her arm, because he just couldn’t help it. Lizzie punched his arm with her fist and said, “You think it’s funny!”
Mam smiled at them from her rocker, saying, “Lizzie, I’m just glad you told Dat about it. At least it bothered you. Good for you!”
“Yeah, I guess,” Lizzie said, almost shyly, as her lashes swept her cheeks.
“Don’t do it again, okay? One thing, it isn’t safe, and how can we make a profit on our pallets if you take all the nails?” Dat asked.
“We don’t take them all.”
“Just about.”
Lizzie made a funny face, because now he was teasing her. He smiled and she told them both good-night.
“Aren’t you going to eat cheese and pretzels with me?” Dat asked.
Lizzie desperately wanted to, but she pitied Emma all alone in their bedroom, feeling so worried. “No, not tonight.”
She closed the door firmly and twirled her way to the bed. She flung herself down and said, “Emma, he wasn’t even mad! I think he was actually amazed that I climbed up that stack of pallets.”
“Do you have to stay home from the ridge for a while?” Emma asked.
“No.”
“Boy, he must have been in a good mood!”
“He was.”
They lay in silence until Emma got up, opened the nightstand drawer, and got out her pink rose stationery. She put it on one knee and began to write.
Lizzie watched her, thinking how much Emma was growing up. She didn’t look like the same ordinary, chubby little girl she used to be. Her neck looked thinner and her eyes seemed bigger and farther apart. Maybe that’s what dieting did—just gave you a long, skinny neck and bigger eyes.
Well, Lizzie was not going to go on a diet anytime soon. That was too hard. How in the whole world could you drag slabs of wood to the ridge, pound nails, and carry wood without lots of good food? Mam thought Lizzie should lose weight, because she said if she’d try, she would buy diet soda for her. That almost persuaded Lizzie, but still . . . what was one can of diet soda if you were only allowed one sandwich with it? And that Roman Meal bread Mam and Emma ate was so thin and full of seeds, you might as well go out and stick your tongue in the birdfeeder. Same thing. No, she most certainly was not going to go on a diet.
Emma bit her lip, erased, and muttered to herself. “Here,” she said, handing the letter to Lizzie.
Dear Teacher Barbara, she read.
I looked over Salina Renno’s shoulder, and copied some of her answers for long column add. I am very sorry. I promise never to do it again.
Your loving pupil,
Emma
“Your loving pupil?” Lizzie asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Well, it will help if she thinks I love her. I do, too,” Emma said.
Lizzie started giggling. She shook quietly, trying not to hurt her sister’s feelings. Emma watched, trying to be serious, too, but Lizzie’s giggles caught on and before they knew it, they were both laughing uncontrollably.
Emma gasped and wiped her eyes. “Lizzie, why are we laughing? It isn’t even funny,” she said.
“Well, E-Emma, you . . . didn’t have to . . .!” and Lizzie’s giggle fit only increased. After they quit laughing, Lizzie told Emma it really was a very nice letter—there was nothing wrong with it at all. She just didn’t really think of Emma as quite that loving to her teacher.
After Emma had tucked the letter carefully into a pink envelope and wrote “Teacher Barbara” on it, she sighed. Then she got out a thin white scarf and tied it over her head before she turned the kerosene lamp low, got on her knees beside the bed, folded her hands, and said her prayers, quietly and devoutly.
Lizzie watched. Maybe next year she would be good like Emma. It was just an unspoken fact of their lives. Emma covered her head as Mam instructed her, knelt, and prayed, while Lizzie just rolled over and thought her prayers to God—if she remembered. Neither girl was self-conscious or judgmental of the other; it was just how they were.
After Emma had blown out the lamp, covered herself, and was comfortable, Lizzie asked, “Do you feel better?”
“Oh, my, yes!” Emma said.
“Do you want me to give it to Teacher Barbara?”
“Will you?”
“Mm-hmm.”
Lizzie figured if she could climb up a stack of pallets, she could give a letter to the teacher. The floor was a lot flatter.
chapter 9
The Twinss
Emma told Lizzie very seriously one evening that Mam was going to have another baby soon. Lizzie watched the leaves on the silver maple bend and sway, some of them dancing almost ridiculously in little cross currents of air. She felt a sickening thud way down in her stomach. A sadness fell over the warm summer evening, mostly which caused her to feel guilty, knowing how much Emma probably anticipated this event.
Lizzie did not like newborn babies. To tell Emma that outright would never work, because she would be appalled. Emma did not understand things like that. She loved to learn to sew, whistling under her breath, which proved she loved what she was doing. Anywhere there were babies, Emma was watching the mothers, hoping to have a chance of holding one.
Lizzie bit on her thumbnail, mustering all the bravado she could, saying, “Really?” It came out in a high-pitched, false quaver, and Emma looked at her sharply.
Lizzie pulled up her knees, covering them tightly with the skirt of her dress and her gray apron. She stretched her big toe, followed by all the rest of them. She wondered why it was easier to stick your little toe out so much farther than the others. Probably because it was way out on the end. But then, so was her big toe, and she couldn’t stick that one way out. Toes were funny things.
“Lizzie, talk ‘chide,’” Emma said.
“Chide” was a Dutch word, meaning “right” or “decent,” anything proper or good. It was a familiar phrase, but tonight it angered Lizzie. Why did Emma have to spoil a perfectly good summer evening by saying they were going to have a baby?
“I did. I mean, are we really going to have another one? Jason is still a baby, sort of. And besides, he’s finally cute, and now we don’t have to have more, do we?” Lizzie asked.
“Lizzie, you just aren’t normal! Why don’t you like babies more? You should be ashamed of yourself,” Emma said.
“I guess,” Lizzie said slowly.
“You could grow up and be glad. It’s a blessing to have children,” Emma told her. “Quit stretching your toes.”
“No. I like to stretch them.”
“Lizzie, when Mam goes to the hospital, you have to help me clean up the house and listen when I say something. Mandy
and Jason are better than you are sometimes.”
“Well, Emma, you . . . Okay, I will. But you are not allowed to be so bossy. If you don’t make me do things I don’t want to do it’s not half as bad. Like take out the garbage in the dark and stuff like that.”
Silence fell over the yard as twilight approached. Mandy was in the back yard, throwing a plastic ball for Jason to bat with a large, plastic baseball bat. Lizzie could hear his shrieks of excitement as he tried to whack the ball. She felt so sorry for Jason, thinking of a new baby, but she said nothing.
Maybe she wasn’t normal, like Emma said. Oh, she knew she was normal as far as her brain, because schoolwork was not hard, but maybe not normal where babies were concerned. That was something new to worry about, seeing that Emma seriously thought so.
She watched as the lady who lived across the street opened the door of her breezeway and let out three of her white, long-haired cats. They were as beautiful as cats go, but Lizzie didn’t care much for cats, either.
The cats padded their way around the yard, lifting each paw delicately, as if the green grass might stain their perfectly white feet. The lady turned, going back into her house.
See, Lizzie thought, that’s just the thing with cats and babies. Cats could get run over and killed, and babies could fall off the couch or choke on their bottle, or get a fever and have to go to the hospital. They could die. Sometimes babies screamed for a very long time, their faces contorted into a most awful-looking thing. Some babies opened their mouth so wide you could easily see their tonsils, which were bright red and looked like a kidney bean. They just were not something Lizzie was very happy to be thinking about.
She sighed, looking sideways at Emma. “Emma, do you think it will be a boy or a girl?” she asked, trying to sound normal and enthused.
“Probably a brother for Jason would be best.”
“Mm-hmm.”
The conversation ended again, because all Lizzie could think of was Jason’s huge red face and swollen eyes when he was a baby. But she kept quiet, because that was not a nice thought. God made every baby special, so she shouldn’t even think Jason was homely when he was a baby, but Lizzie still hadn’t figured out how to think other thoughts if one like that came into your mind.
Emma slapped at a mosquito. Darkness was approaching and the sound of the night insects chased all thoughts from Lizzie’s head. She watched the fireflies, slapped at another mosquito, and sighed again.
“Let’s go in.”
“Okay. Mam probably wants me to bathe Jason anyway.”
And so, on a midsummer’s evening, as the heat gave way to the coolness of night, Lizzie was startled when Mam knocked quietly on their bedroom door. She was dressed in the clothes she wore to go away, and smelled of the best talcum powder she used when she was going somewhere important.
“Emma.”
Emma sat straight up, completely at attention.
“What?”
“Dat and I are going to the hospital.” She came over and put her arms around Emma, then gathered Lizzie in at the same time. There were tears in her eyes, but she was smiling bravely as she told them to be good for Esther. She was going to stay for a few days.
Mam’s covering shone white in the glow of the lamp, and her dark hair looked sleek and clean. She told the girls there were special treats in the pantry for their meals, and Emma could show Esther how to start the gas motor to do the laundry.
“Bye, Mam,” Emma whispered.
“Bye, girls,” Mam said softly.
“Bye,” whispered Lizzie.
Mam closed the door softly. They heard Dat talking in a low, serious voice, then the kitchen door closed, and a car engine started and backed down the gravel drive.
An overwhelming feeling of loneliness crept over Lizzie. She just couldn’t bear the thought of Mam feeling weak and crying because her baby wouldn’t sleep. Why did they need another one?
“Mam seems almost like an angel,” Emma said.
“Why?”
“I don’t know. She just does.”
“She smells good.”
“I know.”
They lay together in silence, till they heard the kitchen door open as Esther and Lavina come in, talking softly. They lit a lamp, carrying it across the living room to Mam and Dat’s bedroom, before closing the door, preparing for the night.
Lizzie felt worse and worse. She felt so bad, a huge lump rose in her throat and a lone tear slid sideways across her nose. She swiped at it angrily, feeling guilty because of the disturbing feeling about babies. Besides, she was too old to be crying, just because Mam and Dat went to the hospital. She squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she could, trying to push the threatening tears back inside her eyes.
Emma sniffed loudly and sighed. The last thing Lizzie remembered before falling asleep was wondering why Emma sniffed.
The next morning she felt bewildered, hearing a strange voice talking to Dat. He said something and there was a loud exclamation of “Melvin!”
Then Lizzie heard Dat’s genuine laugh of happiness. Emma jumped out of bed, Lizzie at her heels. They threw open the bedroom door and hurried across the living room and into the kitchen.
“What? What is it?” Emma asked, quite beside herself in excitement.
“Emma, we have twins! Two babies! Girls!” Dat said, smiling broadly.
Emma put both hands up to her mouth, her eyes opening wide in total surprise. “Twins! Dat!” she shrieked, after she found her voice.
Lizzie stood behind Emma and stared at Dat, her mouth falling open. She was completely speechless. Twin babies. Two of them. Her emotions were so mixed up, she sat down weakly and let her arms rest limply at her sides. Mandy came quietly from the living room and stood at Lizzie’s side.
“What?” she asked.
“Mandy, we have twins! You have two baby sisters. They have dark hair and look exactly alike. They’re identical twins, meaning they look almost perfectly the same,” Dat beamed.
Mandy blinked her big green eyes, unable to concentrate so early in the morning. “You mean . . . two babies at one time?” she asked softly.
“Yes. They’re tiny, but both doing well. Mam has to stay in the hospital for a few days, but they’ll soon be home.”
“But . . . but we have only one crib,” Emma said, practically.
“They’ll easily fit in one, as tiny as they are,” Dat assured her.
“What did you name them?” Lizzie remembered to ask, finding her voice.
“We’re not sure yet. What do you girls want to name them?” Dat asked.
So they all sat around the kitchen table, discussing names. Dat wanted to name one after his sister, but Mam insisted on naming one after her mother, Mommy Miller, who had passed away recently. Dat thought, too, one should be named Katherine after her mother, but Susan didn’t rhyme very well.
“Sarah and Susan,” Emma suggested.
“No, one has to be Katherine,” Dat said.
Lizzie didn’t say much. Dat would probably name his baby Susan, whether it rhymed with Katherine or not, because that’s how he was. If he insisted on something, usually that’s how it went, because he was Dat. Lizzie thought Katherine and Katrina would be so cute, but it was too English. Katrina was an English name.
Amish people picked old-fashioned Bible names, mostly, or named their babies after a relative, as they had done in the Old Testament. It was considered custom to never stray too far from plain Bible names, although some different names were acceptable, too.
So Lizzie didn’t say what she thought about Katrina, because that name was much too fancy for Dat.
After breakfast, Lavina and Esther scrubbed and cleaned. The gas motor hummed continuously as they washed bedding, baby clothes, and rugs. Emma swept and dusted while Esther washed windows. They even waxed the kitchen floor, which seemed a bit unnecessary to Lizzie. Who would notice the shine, anyway?
After lunch, they all took a rest, with drinks of grape Kool-Aid on the porch. Lavi
na was swinging on the porch swing, her brown arms slung across the back.
“It’s hot!” she exclaimed. “We should go to the river!”
“We never went swimming,” Emma said.
“I’ll take you. You would love it,” Lavina said.
Lizzie narrowed her eyes, pleating her apron with her fingers. She was not going to go to the river, that was for sure. She could not swim, and that current would take you clear to the ocean, Debbie had told her. And besides, if she was still not drowned after being carried along by the river’s current for miles and miles, she most definitely would be by the waves in the ocean.
She had a picture in her history book of five men in a rowboat in the ocean on great swells of water, leaning way back to steady their craft. That picture was branded in Lizzie’s imagination, so Lavina may as well forget it. She was not going swimming.
As they sat on the porch, the familiar figure of Debbie came hurrying across the yard. She was laughing with delight, having heard about the twins.
She grabbed Lizzie’s hands and twirled her around. “Whee! Lizzie, you have two sisters at once!” she said, laughing. “I can’t wait to see them!”
Lizzie laughed at Debbie’s enthusiasm, assuring her they would be home in a few days. Debbie flopped on the porch swing, fanning her face with her hands.
“It’s hot.”
“We should go to the river with a picnic lunch,” Esther said.
“No!” Lizzie said loudly.
“What’s wrong with you?” Debbie asked.
“I can’t swim.”
“We can teach you.”
“No. Not in the river.”
Debbie’s brown legs were covered with mosquito bites. She had so many, they looked like chicken pox or the measles. She would sit and scratch them until they bled, then pick at the scabs. That was just how Debbie was. Lizzie and Mandy often told her not to pick the scabs, but she would anyway.
So now she pulled up one leg, picking at a mosquito bite.
“Don’t, Debbie.”
Debbie wet her finger in her mouth and rubbed it across the mosquito bite. She looked at Lizzie and told her the river wouldn’t hurt her. They always took big black tractor tire inner tubes, so there was nothing to be afraid of, because there was no way you could drown with an inner tube.