Running Around (and Such) (14 page)

Toddlers certainly beat babies in Lizzie’s estimation. She didn’t really like babies that much, especially if they yelled and screamed and drooled on your hand when you held them. In church, each little girl wanted to get someone’s baby after services, so they could pretend they were its mother. Lizzie never liked that. Babies were such a mess, and they made Lizzie nervous. She was never sure how to hold a baby. They were too soft and slippery, and Mam said you had to hold their heads carefully. Lizzie was always afraid she had the wrong end up. But a two-year-old was plain-down entertaining. Most of the time.

When Mary came out to bring in the laundry from the line, she threw her hands up in the air and made quite a fuss about everything Lizzie had accomplished.

“It looks like a different yard!” she said.

Amazing how it worked, Lizzie thought. If you made someone else’s day brighter, just like magic your own was bright, too. Maybe that was why Emma had been so happy when she came home from being a
maud
for a whole week. She had made other people’s lives happier by lifting their workloads.

When the driver came on Saturday afternoon, Lizzie couldn’t wait to go home to her family, but she felt almost sorry to leave the Beilers, too. Mary thanked her profusely, handed her a check, and gave her some lavender-scented stationery with matching envelopes.

When Lizzie reached the farm, she flew in the sidewalk, burst through the door, threw her suitcase on the floor, and yelled, “I’m home!”

Everyone made a good and proper fuss, so much, in fact, that Lizzie wondered why she had acted like such a baby to begin with. Being a
maud
had a goodness all its own. The best part, probably, was learning to be a less selfish person.

N
OW THAT EMMA WAS
16, she spent Saturday evenings and Sundays with a group of young people in the neighboring county where there was a larger Amish community. Her new girlfriends invited her to stay at their houses. She was also learning to know many young men. Together they ice-skated, took buggy rides, and gathered for supper crowds and hymn-singings. Emma always came home late Sunday evenings with a driver. Her eyes shone Monday mornings as she told Mam, Lizzie, and Mandy all about her weekend.

Lizzie was thrilled as she listened to Emma. How unbelievably exciting it would be when she turned 16 and went to the neighboring county. She still had to stay at home most of the time, although sometimes she and Mandy were allowed to have fun with their friends from vocational class.

One morning when Emma came down the stairs, her cheeks were flushed with excitement. She looked as if she could absolutely walk on air. In fact, her feet hardly seemed to touch the floor.

“Good morning, Emma!” Mam said, turning to add another egg to the pancake mixture.

“Morning!”

She said it louder than usual, and Mandy turned toward her as she placed the last of the forks beside the plates. Lizzie looked at her, narrowing her eyes.

“Boy, you’re happy!” she said.

Morning was not Lizzie’s favorite time of day, although for some strange reason, she was
never
very happy it seemed. She was usually fine until Emma or Mandy became too chirpy, too enthused about their day, or just too plain-down good for mornings. Then Lizzie felt grouchier than ever.

Why couldn’t they eat breakfast a few hours later? Lizzie wondered. But no, Dat and Mam got everyone up and to the breakfast table before the sun came up. No one was allowed to stay in bed.

“Yes, I guess I am,” Emma said, ducking her head shyly, her cheeks absolutely flaming.

“You have a date!” Lizzie burst out.

“Yes, I do!”

Mam dropped her spoon into the pancake batter and gripped the edge of the countertop with one hand. Slowly she turned toward Emma, her mouth open, but no sound came out. She put one hand to her chest and took a deep breath.

“Who?” Lizzie squealed. “Who? Who?”

“Let me guess!” Mandy said, jumping up and down. “David?”

“No.”

“Sam?”

“No. Of course not.”

“I know. Joshua,” Lizzie said.

Emma said nothing, turning away as she tied her bib-apron string.

“It is him, right? Right, Emma? Joshua asked you for a date. This weekend? Is he coming here? Here to our house?” Lizzie asked.

Emma covered her face with her hands and laughed.

“Stop it, Lizzie. One question at a time. Yes, Joshua asked me for a real honest-to-goodness date for next weekend, and yes, he’s coming here to pick me up!”

Mam found her voice. “But…but, Emma! You’re so young! You just turned 16. Are you sure this is what you want?” she said, rather quietly and a bit weakly for Mam, Lizzie thought.

“I’ve been 16 for awhile, Mam,” Emma replied. And then she said something that Lizzie often thought about afterward, and it never ceased to amaze her.

“Mam, I’ve known for quite some time exactly who I want. The first time I met him, I knew he was the one I wanted for my husband. It’s just so real.”

Mam sat down almost as if her knees could no longer support the weight of her body.

“But…but…did you pray about this, Emma?”

“Of course, Mam, many times. Now I feel as if God answered,” she said softly.

“Did you ask God for Joshua, Emma? I thought we weren’t allowed to do that? Aren’t we supposed to ask only for God’s will when it comes to finding a husband?” Lizzie asked.

“Now don’t start that whole thing,” Mandy said as she placed plates on the table.

Lizzie thought about the last day of vocational class, about Mandy and Viola giggling together in the cloakroom.

“Mandy,” Lizzie said quietly, standing almost against her.

“Hmm?”

“You know the last day of school?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“When I was in the cloakroom, you and Viola came barging in there, your cheeks all red, and giggling together in a corner. What was that all about?” Lizzie felt a thud in the pit of her stomach, already knowing what Mandy would say. She didn’t even know why she asked her this question now, but she had to know the answer for sure. She had to know before she could handle another morning in the cow stable.

“What?” Mandy shrugged. “Oh, that!” She turned away to pick up the milk bottle and put it on the table.

“You know what I mean, Mandy. You know, too, why I’m asking. Just tell me the whole truth.”

When Mandy finally raised her eyes to Lizzie’s, she seemed almost apologetic. “Ach, Lizzie, I can’t help it that Joe likes Viola and not you,” she burst forth, quite miserably.

“Then he still does,” Lizzie said, just as miserably.

“Well, Lizzie!” Mandy said. “What does it matter anyway? We’re only schoolgirls who are not nearly old enough to even think about a husband.”

“But you know we do! And you know that John likes you, and the only reason you talk like that is to make me feel better. Good, if Joe likes Viola. That’s just great! I don’t care one bit! I’m never getting married, anyway.” Her voice rose to a hysterical screech. “And besides, I’m fat and homely-looking with pimples all over my face, and you’re thin and pretty with no pimples!”

There was an awful silence, with Lizzie’s outburst hanging in the air like a choking cloud of dust.

“O-oh, Lizzie! You make me so angry! Your favorite cry for attention is telling me how ugly you are. You
know
that’s not true. You know, too, that you are not absolutely unattractive. You just … you just wallow around in self-pity like a pig who is
addicted
to its mud hole.”

“Mandy, stop it. Now you listen to me. I
would
stop saying those things if you would understand how it feels to be me. Every time I kind of, sort of, you know, not
real
love, but I like someone, they don’t like me. The only person who ever liked me was Ivan, and he’s my first cousin. So, how, Mandy, tell me how, am I ever going to be able to get a husband? See, you have no idea, because John likes you, for real, and I guarantee he’ll end up marrying you. So what do you have to worry about? Nothing!”

Mandy just looked at Lizzie with her big green eyes; then she wiped her face with the hem of her apron.

Dat hurried into the kitchen with Jason right behind him, the cold air whipping past them.

“No girls to help milk this morning?” Dad asked good-naturedly.

“Mandy’s turn,” Lizzie informed him.

“That’s all right. Jase is about as good as you girls. Thirty degrees out there this morning,” he said as he hung his coat and hat in the closet.

“More snow?” Mam asked, trying to ease the tension in the room.

“Emma has a date with Joshua King!” Lizzie blurted out.

“What?”

Dat’s face broke into a warm smile. “Really?”

“I guess,” Emma said, turning toward the stove.

“Well,” Dat said, sitting down at his place at the head of the table. “I suppose you are 16 years old, after all, and that’s what keeps the world turning,” he said, grinning broadly.

“Not exactly,” Mam smiled.

“Is he nice?” Dat asked.

“You’ll see, Dat. Of course, he’s a nice young man. He’s…he’s the one I thought about for a while.”

“Good, Emma! I’m glad you take this seriously,” Dat said.

Mam returned to the stove saying happily, “Oh, Emma, we’ll have to see what good things we can think of!”

“You mean to bake and cook?” Emma asked, hurrying to help her finish breakfast.

“Why, of course!”

Later, when Lizzie and Mandy were on their way to the barn, Mandy said, “Maybe we need to talk to Mam about all of this.”

“No!” Lizzie barked.

“Why not?”

“Well, you know how Mam is. She’ll give us this whole row about God’s will and I don’t understand what she means.”

“Lizzie, surely you know there’s a higher purpose than just our own selfish wills?”

“Stop acting like a little preacher!”

“Lizzie!”

“Well, you know I don’t understand God when he seems so far away.”

“I don’t always, either.”

“Okay, then.”

“But we shouldn’t feel that way. Mam says God should be more real in our lives.”

“Jesus is more real. He’s not as big and scary as God is to me.”

“That’s nice, Lizzie. I suppose it’s different for everyone. But I never think too much about a husband, not in a serious kind of way.”

S
ATURDAY EVENING LIZZIE SAT
in Emma’s room, watching every move she made. She couldn’t believe Emma was going on a real date with a young man Lizzie had never met. Emma combed her hair for the third time, leaning in over her dresser to get a better view of the right side of her head.

“Aren’t you nervous?” Lizzie asked for the fifth time.

“Of course, Lizzie. Stop asking me that question or I’m going to scream as loud as I can!” she said.

“Do! I want to hear you,” Lizzie laughed.

“It’s not funny. Go on out of my room. You’re making me nervous for sure. Go on.”

“No. I want to watch you get ready.”

“All right. But you have to be quiet.”

So Lizzie sat silently, her arms wrapped around her knees, watching as Emma finally got her hair combed to her satisfaction. Lizzie sighed with relief. She wasn’t too sure about having a date if it made you so nervous. Suppose Emma would just pass out flat on the floor from nerves? Then she’d have to go tell Joshua he couldn’t see Emma that evening because she had passed out, and he’d have to turn around and go home again. Wouldn’t that be the most embarrassing thing ever? She giggled to herself until Emma frowned.

“What’s so funny?” she asked.

Lizzie told her, and Emma laughed and seemed to relax.

“Lizzie, I’m not that nervous.”

Lizzie wandered off to find Mandy, and together they sat at the upstairs bathroom window and watched for Joshua and his driver to pull in the lane. They turned out the kerosene light so he couldn’t see their silhouettes against the sheer white curtains. Settling themselves comfortably against the wide windowsill, they giggled together in the thick darkness.

Lizzie and Mandy had become good friends as Emma spent more time helping Mam. Mandy was even getting close enough to being Lizzie’s size, so that that winter when she started school, she got Lizzie’s hand-me-down coat. Mam did have to open some seams and make the coat smaller, because Mandy was really thin compared to Lizzie.