Growing Up in Lancaster County (6 page)

Rachel decided to visit with Gerald a few minutes. Maybe she could blow some bubbles.

“
Blos
[Bubble],” Gerald said when Rachel took a seat on the step next to him. He lifted the jar of bubbles.

She smiled. “Can I blow some?”

He nodded and handed her the plastic wand.

Rachel dipped it into the jar and waved it around. A stream of colorful bubbles blew into the yard.

Gerald squealed and clapped his hands. “Blos! Blos!
Geh
[Go]!”

Rachel dipped the wand into the jar again. Only this time, instead of waving the wand, she blew on it. More bubbles floated into the yard.

“Blos! Blos!” Gerald hollered. He snatched the wand from Rachel and dipped it into the jar. Holding the wand in front of Rachel’s face, he blew. A big bubble formed, but before the wind could catch it, Gerald poked it with his finger, and—
pop
!—it burst in Rachel’s face!

“Ach, that stings!” she cried as she rubbed her eyes. Rachel blinked several times, trying to clear her vision. “I should have expected something like this to happen,” she mumbled. The last time she’d visited Gerald, she’d given him a horsey ride, and he’d smacked her in the eye.

When the stinging stopped, she handed Gerald the jar of bubbles and stood. “I have to go. Grandma’s expecting me, and I don’t have any more time to play.”

Gerald didn’t seem to notice as she walked away. He was too busy blowing more bubbles.

Thump! Thump! Thump!
Rachel knocked on Grandma’s door.

“Come in,” Grandma called.

Rachel entered the house and sniffed the delicious odor of cinnamon and molasses. “Did you bake the cookies without me?” she asked when she stepped into the kitchen and found Grandma sitting at the table reading the newspaper.

Grandma looked up and smiled. “Of course not. I promised that we would bake the cookies together.”

Rachel sniffed the air again. “Then why do I smell cinnamon and molasses?”

“That’s from the gingerbread I baked earlier today.” Grandma pushed the newspaper aside and stood. “Would you like a piece?”

Rachel shook her head. “No thanks. I’ll wait until the cookies are done and have some of those.”

“All right. Are you ready to begin?” Grandma asked.

Rachel nodded eagerly. “What kind of cookies are we gonna make?”

“How about some maple syrup cookies?” Grandma wiggled her eyebrows. “Those are some of your daed’s favorites.”

Rachel leaned on the counter. “I didn’t know that. No wonder Mom bakes them so often.”

Grandma bobbed her head. “I used to make maple syrup cookies at least once a week when your daed was a buwe. I gave your mamm the recipe as soon as they got married.”

“I like maple syrup cookies real well, too.” Rachel patted her stomach and grinned. “Guess I take after my daed.”

“I guess you do.” Grandma opened a cupboard door and took down her recipe box. She opened it, pulled out a recipe, and handed it to Rachel. “Why don’t you read the recipe and then get out the ingredients while I preheat the oven?”

“I can do that.” Rachel placed the card on the counter and opened the cupboard where Grandma kept her baking supplies. As she studied the recipe, the words looked blurry.
I’ll bet I still have some of that bubble Gerald popped in my eye
, she thought.

Rachel ran to the bathroom. She opened both eyes wide and splashed water on her face.
That ought to do it
.

She blinked a few times and looked in the mirror.
Hmm…my face even looks blurry. I wonder how long it’s been since Grandma cleaned this mirror
.

“Rachel, where are you?” Grandma called.

Rachel dried her face on a towel and ran back to the kitchen. “I was in the bathroom, rinsing my eyes.”

Grandma’s forehead wrinkled. “Is something wrong with your eyes?”

“I was having trouble reading the recipe, and I thought I might have bubble solution in my eyes.”

Grandma frowned. “How would you get bubble solution in your eyes?”

“Before I came here, I blew bubbles with Gerald, and he popped one in my face. I think that blurred my vision.” Rachel pointed to her eyes. “Even after I rinsed them, my face looked blurry in the bathroom mirror. I wonder if the mirror is dirty, Grandma.”

Grandma shook her head. “I cleaned that mirror this morning.” She pursed her lips. “Come closer and let me look at your eyes.”

Rachel stood in front of Grandma and opened her eyes as widely as she could.

“I don’t see anything.” Grandma motioned to the recipe card. “Were you having trouble reading the whole recipe, or just a few words?”

“All of it,” Rachel admitted. “Could something have gotten spilled on the recipe?”

Grandma ran her fingers over the card. “I don’t see or feel anything.” She faced Rachel. “Maybe you need a pair of glasses.”

Rachel gasped. “Ach, I hope not! I never want to wear glasses!”

“Why not?”

“Because I think they would make me look
schpassich
[odd]. Jacob and the kinner at school might make fun of me if I wore glasses.”

Grandma touched the nosepiece on her own glasses. “Do you think I look schpassich?”

“Of course not,” Rachel said, shaking her head. “I only meant…Well, some of the kinner might think I look odd because I’ve never worn glasses before.”

Grandma touched Rachel’s chin. “If I were you, I’d be more concerned about seeing well than worrying about what others might think.”

Rachel thought about that a few seconds. “Do you like wearing glasses?” she asked.

Grandma nodded. “I don’t mind them at all. Fact is, I’ve worn glasses since I was a teenager. They’ve become a part of me now. Sometimes I even fall asleep with them on.” She chuckled. “I’ll never forget the day, soon after I’d turned sixteen, when I forgot I was wearing my glasses.”

“What happened?”

“Some of my friends and I had gone to the lake to swim,” Grandma said. “I forgot to take my glasses off before I went in the water and almost lost them.”

“Did they float away?”

Grandma shook her head. “They started to sink, but I grabbed them in time.”

Hearing how Grandma had nearly lost her glasses in the lake made Rachel hope all the more that she would never have to wear glasses. She pointed to the recipe card. “It might be better if you read the recipe and tell me what ingredients I should get from the cupboard.”

Grandma smiled. “Jah, okay.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” Rachel said.

“What’s that?”

“Please don’t say anything to Mom or Pap about me not being able to read the recipe card. I don’t want to worry them.”

Grandma tapped her finger against her chin as she considered this. “I won’t say anything for now, but if your vision continues to blur, then you’d better tell your folks right away.”

“Okay,” Rachel said, nodding.

“Third and fourth graders, I’ve written your English assignment on the blackboard,” Elizabeth said during school the next day. “I want you to look at the sentences and then write down every noun, verb, and adjective you see.”

Rachel leaned forward with her elbows on her desk and studied the sentences her teacher had written. If she squinted, she could read some of the words, but most of them looked fuzzy.

She blinked several times, hoping her eyes would focus, but it was no use. She couldn’t see well enough to know what the sentences said.

Rachel leaned across the aisle and whispered, “
Psst
…Audra…can you read those sentences?”

Audra nodded. “Of course I can.”

“What do they say?”

Audra’s eyebrows pulled together as she stared at Rachel. “Can’t you read them?”

“Well, I—”

“No talking, please!” Elizabeth’s stern voice caused Rachel to jump.

Rachel raised her hand.

“What is it, Rachel?” Elizabeth asked.

“The words on the board look kind of blurry, and I was asking Audra if she knew what they said.”

“Rachel, please come here,” Elizabeth said. “We need to talk.”

Rachel’s cheeks burned with embarrassment when she noticed that everyone in class seemed to be looking at her. She wished she hadn’t said anything. She wished she could crawl under her desk and stay there until school was over.

Rachel shuffled to the front of the room.

Elizabeth leaned close to Rachel. “Now what’s all this about blurry words on the blackboard?”

“I—I can’t tell wh–what all the words say,” Rachel stammered as she wiped her sweaty hands on her skirt.

“Have you had trouble seeing other things?” Elizabeth questioned.

Rachel thought about the letter from Mary and the recipe card at Grandma’s. She hadn’t been able to read either one of those. She remembered the baseball that had looked like a white blur; the spider and the butterfly she hadn’t been able to see; and the bird that had looked like a blurry blob. A knot formed in her throat. Maybe something
was
wrong with her eyes. Maybe she
would
end up wearing glasses whether she liked it or not.

“Rachel, did you hear my question?”

“Jah.”

“Have you had trouble seeing other things?”

Rachel nodded slowly, and her throat felt so swollen she could hardly swallow.

Elizabeth reached into her desk and withdrew a notebook. She wrote something on the paper and handed it to Rachel. “This is a note for your parents. I’m letting them know that you’re having trouble seeing the letters on the blackboard. I’ve suggested they make an appointment to get your eyes examined.”

Thump! Thumpety! Thump! Thump!
Rachel’s heart hammered in her chest. She’d never had her eyes examined before. Would it hurt? Would the doctor be nice? Would he make her wear glasses? If he did, would the glasses cost a lot of money? So many questions swirled around in her head that she could hardly think.

“I’ll move your desk closer to the blackboard so you can see better,” Elizabeth said.

As Elizabeth pushed Rachel’s desk to the front of the room, Rachel made a decision. She would hide the note from Mom and Pap so she wouldn’t have to see the doctor. Even if she had to keep her desk at the front of the room for the rest of the school year, it would be better than wearing glasses!

That night at supper, Rachel stared at her plate of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, and pickled red beets. These were some of her favorite foods, but she didn’t feel like eating. She could only think about the note at the bottom of her backpack.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Grandpa said, touching Rachel’s arm.

“She hasn’t eaten much supper, either,” Henry added.

“Are you feeling grank?” Mom asked, looking at Rachel with concern.

Rachel shifted in her seat, unsure of what to say. “I’m not sick.” She took a bite of chicken, but it tasted like cardboard, and she had a hard time swallowing.

“I’ll bet she’s thinking about that note our teacher gave her today,” Jacob said.

Rachel glared at him. If he were sitting closer, she might have kicked him under the table.

“What note?” asked Pap, looking at Rachel.

Rachel felt as if she had a glob of peanut butter stuck in her throat. She reached for her glass of water and took a drink.

“What note?” Pap asked again.

Rachel set the glass on the table and blew out her breath. “Elizabeth thinks I should have my eyes examined.”

Mom stared at Rachel over her glasses. “What makes her think that?”

“Well, uh—the words on the blackboard looked kind of blurry today, and I—uh—couldn’t tell what they said.”

Pap stared at Rachel so hard her toes curled inside her sneakers. “When were you planning to give us the note?”

Rachel moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Well, I—”

“I’ll bet she wasn’t going to give you the note,” Jacob said. “I’ll bet she—”

Mom held up her hand and frowned at Jacob. “You’d best stay out of this, son.” She turned to Rachel. “If Elizabeth thinks you should have your eyes examined, I’ll call the eye doctor tomorrow and make an appointment.” She shook her finger at Rachel. “The next time your teacher gives you a note, I expect you to give it to me right away. Is that clear?”

Rachel nodded as tears pooled in her eyes, making everything on the table look blurry. “I’m not hungry,” she mumbled, struggling not to cry. “May—may I be excused?”

Mom gave a quick nod. “But remember, there will be no dessert if you don’t finish your supper.”

“I don’t care about dessert!” Rachel sucked in a huge sob, pushed back her chair, and raced from the room. “I don’t want to wear glasses! I’d rather see blurry words for the rest of my life!”

She dashed up the stairs two at a time.
Thunk!
—she tripped on the last step and dropped to her knees.

Rachel grabbed the railing and pulled herself up as tears coursed down her cheeks. “Trouble, trouble…there’s always trouble somewhere!”

R
achel stared out the window of their driver’s van and tried to concentrate on the scenery going by—anything to keep from thinking about where they were going.
Zip! Zip! Zip!
It felt as if a bunch of butterflies were flying around in her stomach.