Big Decisions (17 page)

S
TEPHEN CLIMBED INTO THE
buggy. He wrapped the blue and green plaid buggy blanket around Lizzie’s legs before settling it around his own. He lifted the reins and chirped to George, the horse. The buggy rolled forward.

Outside, the air was frigid with gray clouds scudding across a backdrop of dull blue and white sky, as if the sunshine had frozen along with the rest of the world. The buggy wheels screamed that thin high squeal of metal on frozen snow, which always set Lizzie’s teeth on edge. She shivered and snuggled closer to Stephen, glad for the warmth of another person and the heavy blanket wrapped securely around them.

They were on their way to visit yet another family in the community and to receive the wedding gift that awaited them. It was the custom among the Amish of Lizzie’s community for newlyweds to visit the home of each guest who had attend their wedding and receive a gift, becoming better acquainted with each other in the process. Sometimes the new couple stayed for a meal; other times only for a short visit or a “call.” Lizzie couldn’t understand why some families went to a lot of work preparing a meal, while with others, you sat for a short time, collected your wedding gift, and kept going. Kind of like a drive-through gift collection. She thought the short variety was pretty dumb.

But, being Amish, Lizzie knew that it wasn’t up to her to say how things were done or not done, no matter what she thought. She was a member of this Amish church, and she never even thought of being anything else. She was perfectly content to follow its customs and dedicate her life to living happily within the church’s rules. Well, not always. She still wanted nice things. Sometimes she wished she didn’t have to comb her hair like all the other married women, so completely flat and smooth and up off her forehead with only thin, flat rolls along the side of her head.

No wonder everyone waited until they were married to comb their hair like that. Suddenly the unsuspecting husband found his wife looking quite different, and there wasn’t a thing he could do about it. He was married to her. Of course, Lizzie reasoned, she had combed her hair almost the same way on their wedding day and Stephen still went ahead and married her. Mam said looks had nothing to do with love, but deep down, Lizzie knew that wasn’t completely true.

Her mind wandered to the table set up in her bedroom with gifts stacked on top, beneath, and on both sides. Gifts everywhere. In her opinion, it was time to move into the little house on top of the hill that Stephen was building. She didn’t like living with Dat and Mam and the rest of the family for the first months after she was married. But that was how things were, so there was no use fretting.

Mam wasn’t too enthused about it either, but she never let on, except when Stephen and Dat were at work. Then she would tell Lizzie how it was done in Ohio where she was born and raised, the newlyweds moving the day after the wedding, the way it should be, she said, her eyes snapping behind the wire rims of her glasses. But she never said much to anyone else. She packed Stephen’s lunch along with Dat’s and Jason’s, cooked delicious meals, and in general, seemed quite thrilled to have them in the house, in spite of the newlywed tradition in Ohio which she preferred.

Mam was a good sport about most things in life, a trait that Lizzie had come to appreciate as she became older. Actually, when she really thought about it, Mam was more dear to her with each passing day. It seemed especially so since Lizzie knew she would soon leave their farmhouse, the place she had spent the past seven years of her life.

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.

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.