by Linda Byler
“Can I go along this time?” Lizzie asked.
“Look at that! He isn’t even puffing one bit. He’s one tough pony,” Dat said with a laugh.
And he wasn’t. He looked quite unfazed, just like he had a nice long walk.
When it was Lizzie’s turn, Billy started off with the same powerful lunge. Her head flew back, and for a wild instant, she felt as if she was falling off backward. They slid around the corner before starting down the road. The wind rushed in Lizzie’s ears, and the world zoomed past almost as if she was in a vehicle. But the thing that caused her to laugh so much was the pony’s little dappled rump. His tail was so thick and heavy, and with each tiny step, the hairs on the tail all jiggled up and down. The britchment that went down the sides of the rump bounced up and down so fast, it almost made her dizzy.
Blip-blip-blip-blip. Faster than any pony Lizzie had ever driven, the little hooves were placed on the road, pulling the cart steadily behind him. When Dat could get him slowed down enough, they made a short turn on the road. Then Billy knew he was headed home, and he burst into another level of speed.
“You want to drive?” Dat shouted.
Lizzie looked up at Dat, questioning his decision.
“Can I?” she asked.
“Sure you can.”
He handed over the reins. When Billy felt the slightest release on the bit, he surged forward. Lizzie was afraid, but she wouldn’t tell Dat. She simply hung on to the reins with every ounce of strength.
That was when she discovered the joy of driving, really driving, a fast-moving pony. There was a feeling of oneness with Billy, as if they were attached, and he could feel every move of Lizzie’s fingers. It was a wonderful sensation. She had never felt so powerful, so afraid, and so exhilarated all at one time.
“See? You can handle him,” Dat said gleefully.
“You think so?” Lizzie asked, about to burst with happiness.
“Sure!”
Lizzie could not get him stopped to turn in the driveway, so they drove on past before turning him around. They slid sideways to turn but made it safely to the barn. Mandy was jumping up and down with Jason beside her, wanting the next turn. Lizzie shook her hands, as she said, “You better let Dat drive, Mandy!”
So that was the beginning of the “Billy” era. He was quite a pony. There was actually a time when Lizzie thought she was glad Dat had made the decision to sell Dolly. Billy was much more fun to drive, although they were not allowed to hitch him up on their own for many weeks. Dolly was still precious to Lizzie, but only in her memories. Billy was the one she loved now. He soon learned to nicker for them in the morning, just like Dolly had always done. And he was a much better-looking pony.
Debbie was afraid of Billy at first. She would not go for a ride, and neither would Edna. Even Uncle Eli shook his head, telling Dat he wouldn’t pay fifty cents for that piece of dynamite. Uncle Eli liked his horses to be fat and dependable, certainly not the type you couldn’t trust. Mam wasn’t very happy about Billy, either. She told Dat the girls would not be able to hold that pony, and if they had a wreck, who was going to pay? He was going to keep on with these ponies till someone got hurt, or far worse, killed. Aunt Mary clucked her tongue, saying she didn’t know why they didn’t just send him to be made into dog food right away, too.
Dat laughed good-naturedly and caught Lizzie’s eye, and she laughed back. There was not one thing wrong with Billy. He had excellent stable manners and the girls could hitch him up by themselves—though not without thudding hearts and nervous stomachs at first. He just loved to run as fast as he could and he didn’t like to be held back. So they drove him all over the place by the time the summer was over. Down to the river, past Hetrick’s pond, around the sawmill and pallet shop, wherever and whenever they had a chance. Mam even let them drive him to the dry goods store that was three miles away, which was actually six miles going there and coming back.
And still he did not pant. Dat said he could probably beat any other pony’s endurance he had ever seen, which only made Lizzie love Billy more.
chapter 18
A Part of Growing Up
Lizzie could tell that there was going to be a special church service, because a group of young people had been going to instruction class all summer.
Mam had explained it all to Emma and Lizzie, and they were instructed to take this very seriously. Dat was even becoming more strict. Every Sunday morning when they did not have church services to attend, he told Emma, Lizzie, and Mandy to come sit with him in the living room. There he had four German Testaments, which he distributed to them. It was a time of seriousness, devotional, which was a bit new, something to get used to.
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 took her longer to read a verse. German had always been easier for Lizzie, so she zipped through her verse, her reward being a sincere smile from Dat. As Mandy faltered through hers, Lizzie noticed Mam’s unhappy expression. Now what had she done wrong? Evidently something, by Mam’s drawn eyebrows and stern mouth.
On they read, with the exact same results—Dat’s smile, sighing impatiently if Emma missed a word, until Mam opened her mouth, then closed it again before she said something.
“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 stared at Mam, looking a bit subdued afterward. 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 just 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, Dat telling them they were free to do whatever they wanted. It was an in-between Sunday, meaning a day their district did not have services. All Old Order Amish have church services in the home only every other Sunday. This is an old custom to allow 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. There she flung herself on the bed, stuck her face in her pillow, and pitied herself. She had planned on crying, but the tears wouldn’t come, probably because she was more angry than hurt. After awhile, 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 had a daughter that could read German so well. If she’d be a boy, she’d probably be a preacher or a deacon, then Mam would be so happy to hear her read German in church. She ought to be ashamed of herself.
She couldn’t figure Mam and Dat out lately. Everything the girls did they were scolded for, saying you don’t do this, and you don’t do that. It was starting to work on her nerves. She knew it had something to do with the group of youth who were joining church. It was a very serious thing, but Lizzie had a hard time understanding why it had to be different at home.
Oh, Mam had explained it well, and Lizzie could grasp what Mam told her. She said these young people felt they were sinners, needing to be baptized, which represented their sins were washed clean because Jesus died for them on the cross. The whole summer they were learning how to live a new life, trying to live the way that Jesus taught. They learned the rules of the church, promising to obey and help build the church as well.
Mam even had tears, telling them all this, and Lizzie could tell Emma took it very, very seriously. But the whole thing depressed Lizzie to the point of tears. That would not be fun. They had to be so careful. What if they said or did one thing wrong ever again
in their life? And if they grew into old people, imagine the hopelessness of their situation, unless they all stayed at home and read their Bible almost continuously.
Mam read her Bible a lot, teaching the girls as well. Emma read her Bible every evening before she blew out her kerosene lamp, but Lizzie wasn’t even sure where her Bible was. Mam would have a fit if she knew. Lizzie never told anyone, but the Bible scared her a lot. It just seemed too holy, too righteous, and too impossible to follow. She often wished she wouldn’t feel that way, wondering if it was normal. Emma said the Bible comforted her, which was beyond Lizzie’s understanding. That made her feel so guilty, she could never, ever tell Emma how she felt.
She heard steps coming up the stairway, so she slammed her door shut. Nobody had to find her.
“Lizzie, are you in there?” Mandy called.
No answer.
“Lizzie?”
She still didn’t answer.
The steps turned, the sound ebbing away, before starting down the stairs. Good. She can go play with Jason. She rolled over, searching for a book to read. She had read them all so many times she hardly knew what to read anymore. If only Mam could find more Trixie Belden books, but they were getting harder to find. Lizzie just loved those books, about teenagers not much older than she and Emma solving exciting mysteries, some of them even a bit dangerous. They were all interesting, good clean books that Mam approved of. They weren’t allowed to read just anything. Black Stallion books were good, too, but she only had a few of them. Besides, the last one she had read was about a huge colony of bats living in a cave. They were called vampire bats. If one of them bit a horse or a human being, the bats gave them a disease called rabies which caused you to lose your mind, dying a slow, painful death.
After Lizzie had read that Black Stallion book, she would not go outside after dark. There was an electric pole light at the corner of their yard, which was actually the neighbors’. Every night in the summertime, there was a cloud of insects whirling around the pole light, and often bats swooped in among them. Dat had often told Lizzie they didn’t have rabies, only on very rare occasions. Bats also have radar that warns them of an approaching object, which makes them steer clear of it. Lizzie told Dat these vampire bats are thirsty for blood, and they’ll sit on horses and drink their blood. Mam said she should quit reading those Black Stallion books if she was going to be afraid of bats and said very likely none of it was true.
Marvin had told her quite often that once a bat flew into Rachel’s room and sat in her hair. Rachel screamed and screamed, picking up the horrible creature and throwing it against the wall with all her strength, where it slid to the floor, quite dead. That one was very likely rabid, or why would it have become tangled in Rachel’s hair? Evidently the radar was not working, meaning it had already lost its mind. So Lizzie remained unconvinced, refusing to go out at night for a very long time.
There was her Tom Sawyer book, which she had read countless times. But that one was boring now, so she kept looking. My Friend Flicka. Oh, that was a different one. She had only skipped through that one the first time. She was so happy to have something to read. Rearranging the pillows, flipping on her back, she opened the book and began to read. She was soon transported out West on a horse ranch, working alongside this family who owned a great herd of horses and cattle.
She was quite unaware of anything out of the ordinary until she heard her name being called quite anxiously. It sounded as if it came from the yard outside. She listened a while, but didn’t answer. Then she heard someone at the foot of the stairs.
“I did look up there!”
“Well, where could she be? Lizzie!”
It was Mam, and her voice sounded as if she were close to tears. For an instant, Lizzie felt like remaining quiet, but her conscience made her do what was right. Putting her book aside, she yelled, “What?”
“Where were you?” Mam asked weakly. Lizzie could hear the great relief in her voice. “We looked all over the place for you.”
“I was up here.”
“Then you didn’t answer when I called you the first time,” Mandy said.
Lizzie didn’t answer.
“Come on down now, Lizzie. We’re having a snack,” Mam said.
Lizzie sat up and fixed her hair and covering a bit, checking her face in the mirror, before starting downstairs. She was so pleased that Mam was worried. That was so good for her, because now she would be more careful what she said, and like her every bit as much as Emma. She would talk to Mam now, after all.
Dat and Jason were making popcorn, the smell making Lizzie hungry. Jason squealed, jumping up and down when the popcorn started making pinging noises against the lid. Mam had made a pitcher of ice-cold chocolate milk, and there were pumpkin whoopie pies and blueberry pie. Lizzie sat in a chair, smiling at Emma, feeling so happy because everyone had been worried.
“Where were you, Lizzie?” Mam asked.
“In my room.”
“What were you doing?”
“Reading.”
“Didn’t you hear us looking for you?”
“Hm-mm.”
“I bet you did,” Emma said.
“No, not until someone was calling for me in the yard.” She unwrapped a pumpkin whoopie pie, taking a huge, soft bite. The icing stuck to her cheek, and she wiped it away with her hand. Mmmm. Mam made the best whoopie pies.
Suddenly, out of the clear blue sky, Mam said very seriously, “Lizzie, I know why you went to your room. It was because you were angry at me, and you were pouting. That is just an awful habit of yours, and I certainly hope you get over that childish whim before you get older. I did not mean to hurt your feelings about reading German. I just meant to remind Dat to have more patience with Emma and Mandy. That was not fair to them. They cannot help it if they can’t read German as well as you can.”
Lizzie stared back at Mam, chewing a mouthful of whoopie pie. There was nothing to say. So what if Mam always knew if she was pouting? At least, just for this once, she had been absolutely worried.
“Well?” Mam questioned, getting no reply.
Lizzie shrugged her shoulders.
The popcorn was ready, and Dat poured it into a huge stainless steel bowl, adding salt and melted butter. Everyone took their own colorful plastic dish and dug into the bowl, shaking it down, piling more on top to make the dish heaping full. That was Lizzie’s favorite Sunday snack. The buttery, salty popcorn, washed down with cold chocolate milk. It was amazing how you could have a whole mouthful of popcorn and the minute the chocolate milk hit it, the popcorn all dissolved and went to nothing. Kool-Aid, iced tea, or water did the exact same thing. She supposed if they were English and drank Pepsi, it would dissolve popcorn, too. That was because popcorn was mostly air.
“Where’s church next time?” Emma asked, around a mouthful of popcorn.
“At Levi Kanagys,” Mam said.
See? There Emma talked with her mouth heaping full and Mam did not say one word about it. That’s why I pout, Lizzie decided.
“It’s a baptismal service,” Dat said.
“I know.”
“Do you know what that is?” Dat asked.
“Mam told us,” Lizzie said quickly.
“Did you understand?” asked Dat.
“Mm-hmm.”
“I wondered, though,” Emma broke in, “if someone’s sins are all forgiven when they are baptized, what happens when they sin again?”
“That’s a good question, Emma,” Dat said. “Actually, that’s when the power of Jesus’ blood goes into effect. After you profess to believe in Jesus, you become one of God’s children, and your sins are forgiven when you repent, praying to be forgiven. That happens over and over again as we go through life.”
Oh, Lizzie thought. So that’s how it works. Well that made everything seem much more possible. It wouldn’t seem quite as dangerous joining church if you had a chance of making some mistakes afterward.
“How old do we have to be when we decide to b
e baptized?” Emma asked.
“Not yet, Emma. You need to feel the need to become a better person, and you’re only thirteen. In some churches they’re baptized at a very young age, but we believe it’s alright to wait until you’re a bit more mature,” Dat replied.
Lizzie wished they’d stop talking about all this serious stuff. Everything had been strict enough around the house lately. It just gave her the blues. She didn’t know why things had to change when you became older.
“You girls probably think Mam and I have become a bit hard on you of late. We don’t mean to be, but watching the youth join church this summer and seeing how fast you’re growing up, kind of puts a fear in us. Like we want to do all we can to help you girls be the mature young women you should be, before you join the youth and go to the singings Sunday evenings,” Dat said, so soberly that it sounded as if there were tears in his voice.
That was nice, what Dat said, Lizzie decided. She believed him, and felt like trying hard to please Dat and Mam in everything. But that was enough now.
“Let’s go for a walk, Mandy,” she suggested.
So they tied on their head scarves and thin coats, stepping out into the early autumn afternoon. They turned into the field lane beside the house, kicking large brown hickory leaves as they started out. The whole lane was littered with acorns, big ones and little ones—even some double ones.
“Acorns are the cutest things,” Lizzie said, bending to pick up a few. “These little things on top look like a hat.”
“Let’s gather a bunch to put in a bowl.”
They picked out only the nicest ones, those that still had their “hats” on. Their pockets bulged with them, so they put a bunch in their coat pockets. They continued their walk up the gradually sloping hill toward a lone, craggy pine tree that stood way on top. Smooth hay fields stretched on each side of them, and the little group of houses by the highway looked like a village on a greeting card. Samuel Renno’s farm was to the left, the red barn standing in contrast to the colorful mountain. Their white house and silver windmill, with the adjoining sheds and corncribs, made quite a picture. Lizzie just loved it here in Jefferson County. She often noticed the beauty of the area.