Running Around (and Such) (19 page)

She had never felt as if she had done something so horribly wrong as she did at this moment. Little things in her life had never bothered her much, as they had Emma. But sitting here in this stranger’s pick-up truck, the rain rushing down its sides, she begged God to forgive her. She felt as low as she could ever remember.

“Good-bye,” Don whispered.

Lizzie didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. There were no words to convey the depth of her shame and misery. She opened the door and slipped out, standing in the rain as he drove away without looking back. Rain fell on her head, running in little rivulets down her cheeks. Guilt mixed with longing, obedience fought with yearning, all in one churning moment of time like the pinwheels Mam used to buy for them at the Ben Franklin store. When she blew on them as hard as she could, the two different colors became one constant whir of blended color. But as soon as she stopped, the colors separated and became distinct again.

“Lizzie! Get in out of the rain!” Darwin called from the house. Lizzie snapped to attention.

“Oh, yes, I will,” she said running up onto the porch.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Either that, or been scared out of your wits. How did you get to the house?” Darwin asked, peering into her pale, wet face.

“I…I walked,” Lizzie said, unable to meet his eyes. “I…I mean, partways.”

Luckily, Darwin left it at that as he helped her into the house. He picked up her paycheck from the kitchen table and handed it to her.

“You will need a ride home, won’t you?”

“I suppose.”

“I’ll see if Carol can take you.”

Lizzie sat down at the kitchen table. The warmth of the room suddenly made her very, very tired. She crossed her arms tightly, pulling her sweater closely around her shoulders as she waited for Carol.

In the car, Carol kept up a running conversation, talking on and on about the flock of ducks she raised by the creek. She loved to see the white Muscovy ducks paddling along the water’s edge, she told Lizzie, as they hungrily fed on the abundant watercress that lined its banks.

Lizzie answered in monosyllables, never quite sure what the conversation was about, her mind repeatedly drifting back to the events of this long, rainy, mixed-up day. She felt worse than she had ever felt in her whole life. As Carol talked about church and their need for a stronger youth group, Lizzie planned her way out of this miserable, alone feeling.

She would tell Mandy what happened as soon as she had a chance. She would help Mam as much as she possibly could. She would set the table, play with the twins, Susan and KatieAnn, and agree to help with whatever task Mam assigned her.

Then when supper was over, she would start at the very beginning and tell Mandy every detail of her … what would she call it? It certainly was not a friendship, and “flirtation” sounded too plain bad and disobedient. Well, she wouldn’t call it anything at all. She would just tell Mandy. Mandy was so wise and attentive to all Lizzie’s fuss about everything, always taking Lizzie quite seriously.

Lizzie was so deep in thought that when Carol pulled up to the sidewalk in front of Lizzie’s house, Lizzie actually had to shake her head a bit to clear it.

“I’ll see you on Wednesday,” Carol said.

“Oh… oh, yes, of course,” she stammered.

“Good-bye,” Carol said.

“Bye,” Lizzie answered, turning to walk up to the porch, certain of her plan that would not fail.

A
FTER DINNER, LIZZIE WENT
up to her room. She found her Bible in her nightstand drawer and carried it with her as she climbed into bed. She propped up both pillows and leaned back against the headboard. She bent her head over her Bible in her lap.

Very little about the Bible made sense to Lizzie. Plus reading it was usually inconvenient. Even on gorgeous Sundays when their church district wasn’t meeting, Dat insisted on taking time to study the Bible.

Once when Lizzie was little and the leaves were orange and red, Dat said to Mam, “Let’s hitch up Bess and go to the mountain today.”

“We could,” Mam agreed and smiled at Dat.

“Good. After dishes and a Bible story, I’ll hitch up the buggy and you can pack a lunch.”

“We don’t have to have a Bible story,” Lizzie said.

“Oh, yes,” Dat told her. “Every Sunday.”

While Mam gathered the dirty breakfast dishes and put away the leftovers, Dat sat on the couch and read the story of the lost sheep. Emma sat beside Dat and listened attentively, but Lizzie wasn’t interested in that little sheep story.

So what if he didn’t make it into the pen with the others? He could stay out on the mountain till the next morning, when the shepherd drove his sheep back down that way. Lizzie thought the shepherd wouldn’t have had to light his lantern and go look for the sheep in the dark. That was a lot scarier than waiting till morning. The shepherd was lucky he didn’t get eaten by a bear, walking around the mountain yelling for one sheep.

Lizzie remembered Dat telling Emma to always remember to be a good little girl and do as Mam said. Lizzie had picked at a scab on her knee and wished he’d be quiet now. She just wanted to go for a ride in the mountains.

But now Lizzie was reading her Bible intently because she wanted to be good again.

Mandy opened the bedroom door. Lizzie didn’t look up so Mandy cleared her throat, but that failed to get Lizzie’s attention. Finally, it was too much for Mandy, and she plopped down on the bed beside Lizzie. “Why are you reading your Bible?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing, Lizzie, of course not. If it was Emma, I’d think it was good and natural, but to see you reading it so seriously is kind of a surprise. Did you have a bad dream?”

Lizzie put down the Bible and turned to swing her feet off the side of the bed. She lowered her head and whispered, “I wish it would all have been a bad dream.”

Mandy gasped audibly. “Lizzie, what in the world?”

Lizzie sighed and ran her hand through her already tousled hair. “Mandy, you have to promise, cross-your-heart-promise, not to tell Mam or Emma, or I won’t tell you.”

“I promise,” Mandy said. She placed her hand on her heart as she leaned forward.

“Okay,” Lizzie began. “You know how dreadfully dull that egg-grading job is? I hate it so much. I would never, ever go near that smelly place if it wasn’t for Dat and Mam.”

“Ye-e-ss,” Mandy said slowly, kind of as if she was carefully walking on thin ice, knowing it could break at any moment.

“Well, it’s all right, I guess. The job itself, I mean. It’s just that this very…well, kind of very handsome, but not very,
very
good-looking man started coming to the chicken house to pick up an order of eggs to take to Harrisburg every week.”

“Go on,” Mandy said, her fingers plucking nervously at the tufted chenille bedspread.

So Lizzie launched into the whole exciting, miserably tormenting story, trying to make it appear innocent, but also trying to honestly relate the parts that pricked her conscience.

Mandy listened attentively. She nodded her head wisely, her green eyes a portrait of her inner feelings—fear, suspicion, surprise, and, as Lizzie’s story spun to an end, disbelief.

“Lizzie, I cannot believe how dumb you are,” Mandy said when Lizzie finished.

“Why did you say that, Mandy? Why?” Lizzie wailed.

“Because!” Mandy shrieked.

“Not so loud!” Lizzie hissed.

Mandy lowered her voice and bent her head so close to Lizzie that she cringed.

“You are old enough to know better. How could you? How could you even dare to get in his pickup truck? Lizzie, can’t you see? He could have driven off with you, and none of us would ever have seen you again. It happens all the time.”

“Not Don Albert. Mandy, you don’t understand. He’s nice. He was serious. He liked me.”

Mandy snorted.

“He did!” Lizzie cried.

“As long as you’re going to stick to that part of your story and refuse to admit that you did anything dumb, I’m going to tell Mam.”

And before Lizzie had a chance, Mandy was up and running down the stairway.

“No-no, no!” Lizzie called.

There was no use. Mandy was already clattering down the stairs. Lizzie flung herself on the bed and stuck her fingers in her ears. She was in a barrel of trouble now. Even the Bible did not give her too much hope. She felt like a real sinner. She would have to pray for a very long time, which she planned to do, as soon as she survived Mam’s wrath. Probably, with Mandy telling everyone her secrets, Dat would get involved, too. Maybe even Doddy and Mommy Glick and all the preachers in Cameron County.

S
URE ENOUGH, MANDY STOOD
at the bottom of the steps calling her name. Lizzie went downstairs without answering. She felt like a prisoner being led to her fate, alone and condemned because of what had occurred.

Mam, Emma, and Mandy sat around the kitchen table. Dat was in the blue platform rocker reading a farm magazine. Surely Dat didn’t have to hear this, she thought fiercely. He was acting more and more suspicious of her ever since she started combing her hair a little more fancy. Lizzie sat down without lifting her eyes.

“So, Lizzie, what happened? I could tell the minute you walked in the door that you were not your usual happy self,” Mam said, not unkindly.

Lizzie glanced nervously in Dat’s direction. She swallowed the lump in her throat and knotted her hands in her lap. Slowly, resolutely, she retold the events of the past few months. She did not leave out any details or skip over anything that had led to that afternoon.

She felt as if she was hacking her way through dense underbrush, and that the further she came through it, the closer the soft, yellow light of a relieved conscience warmed her. She couldn’t believe how good it felt to be free of her hidden feelings in just in a few moments’ time. For so long she had tried in vain to decide what was wrong and what was right. Sitting here at the kitchen table with her family, Lizzie knew. She knew so suddenly and with such clarity that the huge backpack of guilt, which had tugged her strength away, was suddenly lifted off her shoulders. She felt as light and airy as a feather floating on a breeze.

Mam was silent as Lizzie finished her story. She shook her head slowly. “Lizzie, it just makes me weak in the knees, the danger you could have been in,” she said quietly.

“That’s what Mandy claimed, same as you. But the part you don’t understand, Mam, is that Don is very nice. He never would do anything dishonorable. I mean, the thing that actually scares me most is how much I wanted to go with him.”

Mam stared at Lizzie. Dat put down his paper and looked at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. Emma’s jaw dropped, and her mouth formed a perfect O. Mandy gawked at her as if she had gone completely crazy.

“Lizzie!” she gasped.

“Oh, my!” Mam said.

Dat stared sternly at her, his eyebrows drawn down over his blue eyes. “What did you just say?” he asked.

Then Mam found her voice. “Lizzie, let me tell you something. I believe that the real danger in this situation is not the kind all of us are thinking about. It is a far more exciting danger, isn’t it?”

Lizzie nodded, her eyes lighting up with the knowledge that Mam really did understand. She knew!

“Yes, I mean… Mam, I want you to know that if it hadn’t been for your face and my remembering you, I probably would not have realized that something was wrong. My feelings of
wanting
to go with him were very strong.”

Mam bit her lip as quick tears sprang to her eyes. “Oh, Lizzie,” was all she could say.

Suddenly, Dat sat up straight, put away his magazine, and, directing his voice to Lizzie, said quite harshly, “You’re just a flirt, Lizzie.”

Lizzie looked away, biting her lip.

“I don’t ever want to hear anything of this sort again. You’re only 15 years old. How do you plan to behave when you’re 16, if you’re already acting like this with an English man?”

Dat’s words hurt as badly as if he had spanked her. Lizzie’s face reddened, and she slid down in her chair, trying to become as small as possible. Every word was true, but Dat’s harsh, biting tone produced a rebellion in her which reared its ugly head, blotting out the light of Lizzie’s clear conscience.