Running Around (and Such) (8 page)

The first pitch was too high, but she swung anyway, misguided by nervous energy, sending a foul ball just shy of third base. No one said anything. There were no groans or calls. A strange silence hovered over the ball field. Lizzie was one of the new girls, so everyone had to be nice.

Lizzie had never wanted anything quite as badly as a good solid hit to show all of them what a good ballplayer she was. But she was far too nervous. She knew she had to calm down and relax.

The second pitch she let pass on purpose, taking a few deep breaths to get her bearings. The third pitch came in fast and low. She swung with every bit of strength she could muster.

A solid THUMP! and Lizzie was off. The girls screamed and the boys yelled as loud as they could as she ran for first base. Somewhere out beside the road the boys scrambled in the tall grass, still looking for the ball as she rounded first base and streaked for second.

“Go! Go! Go to third!” Everyone sounded hoarse from yelling. Just as she reached third base, one of the twins caught the ball at the pitcher’s mound, and she knew she had to stay. She was panting and her heart was swelling as the third baseman said, “Good hit for a girl!”

Lizzie tried to think of some witty answer, but nothing came. So she just smiled at the boy whose name she didn’t even know.

Sharon was up to bat next and made a good solid hit, sending Lizzie to home plate. Her teammates crowded around, asking her if that was how she always hit. Lizzie told them demurely, no, not always. But she knew there was a good chance she probably would quite often.

By the end of the game, Mandy and Lizzie had both established themselves as good baseball players. Mandy was very quick, dashing fearlessly to catch grounders and tagging people out quite easily, amazing even the boys.

It was so exciting and so much fun to be a part of a serious baseball game that Lizzie felt like hopping and skipping the whole way home.

And when Viola told Lizzie that she and Mandy were good for the team, Lizzie forgot all about her jealousy. Touching Viola’s sleeve she said, “You are, too. You were picked first.”

After school, Lizzie and Mandy walked slowly up the lane towards their house. Lizzie swung her arms and smiled.

“I think I’m going to marry Joe or John,” she said.

“Lizzie!” Mandy shrieked.

“I’m serious. They’re so cute,” Lizzie said happily.

“They would never want us. We’re way too … I don’t know how to say it, plain, or
fadutsed
, or whatever. We don’t near know how to dress and do our hair like Sara Ruth and Sharon.”

“We can learn!”

“Don’t you know it’s just common knowledge among the upper graders that Joe likes Viola and she likes him?” Mandy said, eyeing Lizzie skeptically.

She stopped and looked at Mandy, her mouth open in surprise. “Who said?”

“Sara Ruth.”

“They can’t like each other—he couldn’t date a Mennonite!”

“Lizzie, you’re so bold, even
thinking
they would even
notice
us. We’re just like … country mice going to the city!”

Lizzie’s heart sank along with her happy plans. Well, she would not always be a country mouse. It was a horrible feeling to be left out and way behind everybody else, just because she wasn’t as pretty and her dresses were plain. How would she ever marry? There were lots and lots of Violas in the world.

“Don’t worry, Lizzie. We’re too young. Mam would have a fit if she knew how you talked,” Mandy said. “We don’t have to worry about such things now!”

Lizzie knew Mandy was right, as she usually was. But no wonder she doesn’t worry, Lizzie thought. She’s thin and pretty and her complexion is as smooth as silk.

L
ATER THAT WEEK THE
girls were allowed to go with Dat to the hospital in Falling Springs.

Jason and the twins weren’t old enough to go, so they stayed with Uncle James and Aunt Becca who lived about five miles away. Aunt Becca drove her horse and buggy over to pick up the younger children and take them home with her. Dat said the way Becca drove her horse, she’d be over in a hurry and be back home just as fast.

Lizzie laughed because she loved the way Aunt Becca drove a horse. Becca’s horse was little, with deep lines running down his haunches. Lizzie thought this made it look as if he had lots of loose skin on his behind and his haunches flapped up and down along with the breeching on his harness.

Sometimes when they turned a corner, Lizzie had to bite down on her lower lip and clutch the seat, because it seemed as if they were only on two wheels. When Aunt Becca clucked to her horse after picking up Jason and the twins, she started off so fast that the children’s heads flew backward. Gravel scattered beneath the buggy as it rounded the corner past the barnyard. Dat laughed and shook his head.

“There she goes.”

Emma laughed with Dat. “How can she stop that horse?” she asked.

“Oh, she’ll get him stopped.”

Sure enough, Becca tugged the reins just in time and the little horse stopped at the very end of the lane.

After Becca left, the girls only had an hour to get ready to go to the hospital. Emma picked up the twins’ toys and straightened the house while Lizzie and Mandy went upstairs.

“Which dress are you wearing?” Lizzie asked.

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess it doesn’t matter too much.”

“I know. But most of our dresses are still all from Jefferson County.”

“Guess I’ll wear that new lavender one.”

“Are you nervous about going to church, Mandy?” Lizzie asked, taking the hairpins out of her hair.

Lizzie could hardly believe that only a few days had passed since they had first arrived in Cameron County and so they hadn’t attended church yet.

“Sort of, I guess.”

“We probably don’t have to go because Mam’s sick and can’t go with us.”

“I hope not.”

“We don’t know one single person except our Glick relatives.”

“I dread it.”

“Me, too.”

Lizzie yanked at a tangle in her hair. She pulled out the hairbrush and gazed at it. “Look at all this hair! I’ll be bald!”

Mandy giggled. “You can lose a bu-unch of hair before you’ll be bald.”

“Can you roll your hair?” Lizzie asked.

“Not really.”

“Do we have to, just to go to the hospital?”

“I don’t know.”

“I hate to wet my hair down and roll it.”

“Ask Emma.”

So Lizzie yelled down the stairs, asking Emma if they had to roll their hair.

“Of course you do,” came Emma’s exasperated reply.

“Why?”

“Because we live here now. That’s how we have to do.”

“I can’t get it right!” Lizzie wailed.

There was no answer, so Lizzie knew Emma wasn’t going to extend any mercy to her. She went back to her dresser, peered closely into the mirror, and yanked her hair back as hard as she could. Lifting both arms, she grasped some of the hair growing along her forehead and twisted it back.

A big mound of hair above what she was already twisting poofed up and away from her head. She tried to smooth it back, but lost the whole part she had been holding, so she had to start all over.

She snorted, stamping her foot impatiently.

This was going to be impossible, that was all there was to it. She dashed to the bathroom and wet her hair until water ran off the tip of her nose. Using the palms of her hands to flatten her hair, she ran back to the bedroom, picked up the fine-toothed comb, and raked it along each side of her head.

“Are you done?” Emma asked, popping her head in the door.

“No!”

“Here.” Mandy came over and stood in front of Lizzie. She took the comb and used it to push some of Lizzie’s wet hair up and away from her forehead. “Now try rolling it.”

Lizzie leaned over the dresser, her face inches from the mirror, and gently twisted her hair back. Mandy stood back and watched, her arms crossed.

“Go ahead, laugh. You’re going to anyway!” Lizzie snapped.

Mandy turned and hurried out of the room, her shoulders shaking.

Good, she’s gone, Lizzie thought as she tilted her head to one side, trying to roll the other side the same way. The sides looked all right, but in the front, at her part, one roll went straight up and the other roll hung down. When she pushed the bobby pin in place, both rolls stood up and away from her head, making her look like a frog.

She sighed, tears close to the surface. The driver was coming any minute. She pulled her hair back securely and started twisting it into a bob again. She was not, absolutely
not
, going to call for Mandy. Mandy, her younger sister, could roll hair perfectly. Well, not perfectly, but much better than Lizzie could.

She pulled her hair back as tightly as she was able, only to discover that her rolls of hair now lay flat along the side of her head. So that was how it was done! She finished twisting her hair on the back of her head and stuck in hairpins as fast as she could. She grabbed her good covering and flopped it on top of her head, turning to look for a black belt apron.

“Driver’s here!” Mandy yelled from the bottom of the stairs.

Lizzie pinned her apron as fast as she could, adjusted her dress, and ran down the steps. Emma stood in the kitchen, carrying a bag with extra clothes for Mam.

“Come, Lizzie,” she said. And she sounded so like Mam that it made Lizzie miss Mam unbearably much. She couldn’t wait to get to the hospital.

D
AT HELD THE DOOR
for the girls as they entered the cool interior of the hospital. The glass doors were huge. Lizzie gazed at the tall ceilings as she followed Emma into the lobby. The vast windows looking out at the pink trees and the warm sunlight brightened the soft carpet.

Dat went to a desk that said “Information,” where a small, white-haired woman was adjusting the glasses on her nose.

“Hello,” Dat said. “Could you tell me which floor Room 377 is on?”

“The numbers go by the floors; the 300s are on the third,” she said.

Dat thanked her and herded the girls toward the elevator past a gift shop with pretty plants, balloons, cards, and flowers making a bright display along the windows. Dat stopped to look at the price of a bouquet of yellow carnations and white daisies.

“Dat, you should get it,” Emma said.

“Twelve dollars!”

“So? Mam probably doesn’t have any flowers because we don’t know our English neighbors like we used to in Jefferson County. Please?”

Dat reached into his pocket for his wallet, one Mam had made for him years ago. He held it sideways, checking to see how much cash he had, then he smiled and lifted the pretty cut-glass vase.

“I’ll have to write a check for the driver,” he said gruffly, but Lizzie could tell he didn’t mind. Dat was like that, she thought.

They found Mam’s room on the third floor. Tears sprang suddenly to Lizzie’s eyes when she saw Mam. Her face was ashen—even her lips were pale. She looked so thin and so sick, it made Lizzie feel awful.

“How are you feeling?” Dat asked, going to the side of her bed.

“Oh, I had a rough night, but I can tell the antibiotic is working.”

She smiled at Dat and then looked at the bouquet in Emma’s hand. “Ach my, Emma. Aren’t they pretty? You shouldn’t have,” she said, turning to Dat.

Lizzie and Mandy stood back, almost shyly. Mam didn’t seem like their ordinary, everyday Mam, lying in that hospital bed wearing a green hospital gown. That gown was about the ugliest thing Lizzie had ever seen.

“Mandy, come here. Come, Lizzie,” Mam said, patting the bed. So they sat sideways on Mam’s hospital bed, while Lizzie tried not to cry.

“What were you doing last evening when I was here?” Mam asked, tucking a stray hair behind Mandy’s ear.

Mandy told Mam all about the pickup truck and the strange man with tattoos and long hair. Mam shook her head at Dat.

“Ach my, Melvin.”

“There wasn’t a thing wrong with him. Not a thing,” Dat assured her.

“I guess,” Mam said. “And I’ve often told the girls we can’t judge a person by his looks, can we? But … I would feel better if you stayed at home as much as you can, Melvin.”

“I will,” Dat said.