by Sarah Price
“Lydia!” Jane gasped in defense of Lizzie. “You be kind!”
“Well, it’s true!” Lydia said smartly, a defiant look in her eyes. “I intend to be asked to ride home with a boy on the night of my very first singing!”
“I’ll be certain to have Daed ready with his buggy, then!” Lizzie snapped back, knowing that the sarcastic comment would only further infuriate her youngest and most foolish sister.
Later that evening Lizzie and Charlotte sat together on a bench, a plastic cup of meadow tea in their hands. With Charlotte working the vegetable stand at her parents’ farm, it was hard to visit during the summer, despite the longer days and evenings. Only at the church services and the ensuing singings did the two young women have time to catch up.
For years they had been friends. Charlotte’s maem had grown up with Lizzie’s, and as a result their families often got together, more so when the kinner had been younger. Now that Charlotte’s older siblings were married and with their own boppli, there was less time for visiting friends than family. Still, despite their age difference, Lizzie enjoyed Charlotte’s company and considered her a special friend, almost as dear to her as Jane was. It had always baffled Lizzie why Charlotte had not already married. She came from a good family and had a reputation for being quite godly and modest as well as a hard worker.
Despite these facts, at almost twenty-five Charlotte had yet to court a young man and had few, if any, prospects on the horizon.
“It’s because she is so plain!” her maem had commented one day when Lizzie had mistakenly said something to that effect.
Lizzie had laughed. “We are plain people, Maem!”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it, Elizabeth,” her maem had retorted. “She’s plain to the eye and plain to the personality. Does nothing to make herself stand out whatsoever! And, besides the singings, one never sees her anywhere! She doesn’t have a chance of being naught more than a maedel and burden to her siblings, mark my words!”
Horrified at her maem’s words, Lizzie had immediately shown her disapproval by leaving the room. Yet those words rang in her ears, and from time to time she caught herself wondering about her friend and how anyone could be prejudiced against such a kindhearted and faith-based woman!
Now, as they had time alone at last, Lizzie and Charlotte whispered and giggled softly over the latest news. Without prying eyes, Lizzie was able to tell Charlotte about their stay at the Beachey farm and how in love Charles seemed to be with Jane. Charlotte lifted her hand to her mouth, hiding her surprise but not the sparkle in her eye.
“She must encourage it, then!”
Lizzie was taken aback by Charlotte’s words. “What do you mean by that, I wonder?”
“She’s such a sweet and kind woman, Lizzie, for sure and certain,” Charlotte whispered. “But Charles is quite sought after by the young women. In fact, I heard that Maddy Fisher has her eyes fixed on him!”
“Maddy Fisher!” Lizzie frowned and waved her hand. A local young woman who was older than Jane, but not as old as Charlotte, she had a reputation for desperately searching for any man who was still leddich. “She has her eyes fixed on several young men!”
“Ja, but she always gets asked home in a buggy,” Charlotte pointed out. “She encourages the attention in order to learn more about their character.”
“But we know about his character,” Lizzie countered. She had seen enough of Charles to form a very strong impression. From what little she knew, there was nothing to question or doubt about that man. “He’s an upright and fine man with his eyes on God more than girls! But he clearly has a tender spot in his heart for my sister. His character is, in a word, clearly unblemished.”
“Mayhaps that is true, but does he truly know her character? Remember that he has only just moved here, ain’t so?”
Lizzie was stunned by Charlotte’s words and realized that, shocking as it might be, there was a point of reality underneath her friend’s statement. After all, what did Charles really know of Jane’s character? Jane was shy and quiet. The little amount of time they had spent at the Beachey farm had not been together but apart. Charles had been helping to clear the roads during the day and, in truth, had spent more time with Lizzie than Jane.
“Excuse me,” a deep voice said from behind them, immediately disrupting Lizzie’s thoughts.
Both Charlotte and Lizzie turned simultaneously in the direction of the voice, surprised to see a stoic and unsmiling Frederick Detweiler standing there, still wearing his Sunday suit. It was all black: the pants, the jacket, and a vest. Underneath the vest was a white shirt. Despite how warm it was, he did not look to be uncomfortable.
Before that moment Lizzie had not noticed him at the singing and had presumed that he, like George, had chosen not to attend. While she was surprised, and mildly disappointed, that George was absent, having somewhat enjoyed his company the other day when he had given them a ride both to and from the store, she felt the complete opposite about not having seen Frederick.
He nodded at Charlotte, but his eyes lingered on Lizzie. As always he looked far too serious and his dark eyes far too piercing. “I noticed that you did not have a ride here this evening,” he said, his voice flat and emotionless.
“I did not,” Lizzie replied, her cheeks flushing with the humiliation of his having pointed out that she had walked to the singing when so many other young women were driven by a young man, even if it was only a bruder or neighbor. While she normally would not have minded, the fact that it was Frederick pointing it out made the matter more demeaning on a personal level. His next words, however, changed everything.
“Then I shall waste no time in requesting that I might be allowed to take you home after the singing,” he said, his eyes quickly looking over her shoulder. “If that is agreeable to you.”
Without a moment’s pause Lizzie heard herself reply, “It is. Danke.” The words just popped out of her mouth, and she could scarce believe that she had said them. Frederick did not give her a chance to rescind. Instead he nodded again at both women and hurried away. Her eyes followed him as he walked not toward the men but out the door of the barn. Indeed, she realized, he was not attending the singing but had arrived merely to ask for her to ride home with him.
Stunned, Lizzie turned and stared at her friend. “Did I just agree to ride home from the singing with this Frederick Detweiler?”
Charlotte smiled and nodded her head. “I heard you myself, Lizzie.”
“What on earth . . . ?”
Leaning over, Charlotte whispered into her ear. “Mayhaps he has a crush on you after all.”
“Or merely wishes to torture me some more with words about how tolerable I may or may not be!”
At this statement both women stared at each other, and then, whether from nerves or teasing, they started to softly laugh and reached out to clutch each other’s hands in a gesture of close friendship.
True to his word, Frederick approached her toward the end of the singing. He stood beside her, his hands behind his back and his chin jutting out, just a touch, as he cleared his throat in his usual fashion and met her eyes. Without a word she excused herself from her friends and followed him outside of the barn and toward the buggies. She glanced at the sky, noticing that there was no moon, which left the blackness full of twinkling stars.
“It’s a beautiful evening,” she commented.
“Indeed.”
“I prefer moonless nights,” she continued, listening to the crickets chirping and the sound of the gravel beneath their feet. “The stars are so much more interesting to study, don’t you think?”
He stopped before a buggy and slid open the door. Holding out his hand, he waited for her to take it and place her foot on the black round step-up to get into the buggy. Unlike Charles, Frederick had not brought his open-top buggy. Instead he had the traditional gray-topped closed buggy this evening. She was relieved when he left the door open so that a nice breeze would keep them cool.
The silence that followed felt awkward. To be fair, it took Frederick a moment to get the horse and buggy backed up before they could begin the short journey to the Blank farm. Yet when the silence remained, Lizzie frowned and spoke up. “I do believe it is your turn to begin a conversation, Frederick. I have already commented on the evening,” she quipped.
“What is your pleasure?”
“I should think you would have something to say,” she remarked. “After all, it was you who sought me out for the ride home.”
The battery-operated headlights cast a soft reflecting glow inside of the buggy. She thought she saw him smile, but it was too dark and shadowy to know for certain. He paused at the end of the lane, and rather than turn right toward her parents’ farm, he turned left. She was about to comment on this when she became aware that he intended to take a long route home in order to spend more time with her, a realization that made her heart flutter in a moment of panic. What on earth was Frederick Detweiler up to?
“Speaking of rides, then,” he began, “are you oft to accept rides when heading to the store?”
Ah, she thought. Now this was getting interesting. “By that question I presume you mean George.” She paused and waited for a response. When none came forth, she presumed that she had guessed accurately. “I find it curious that you inquire about my accepting a ride home with George Wickey when I was walking with my sisters.” She wanted to add that he did not inquire about having seen her riding in the buggy with Wilmer the day she had been forced to accompany him to the bishop’s house, but her own self-preservation forbade her from even bringing up that embarrassing matter.
“It was just a question,” he replied.
“A question, ja,” she repeated. “I would have not thought you even noticed any of us, for when you saw us, you barely did more than nod in acknowledgment. One would think you were perfectly estranged from the man rather than sharing a home.”
A long pause.
“And it seems an odd question since it appears that we shall be neighbors. And from how busy George Wickey has been, rarely at home and socializing outside of the youth groups, it seems that he is doing quite well at making new friends, and that’s something to be admired, ja?”
The twitch by his eye told Lizzie to stop talking. She could see his expression in the glow from the lights—just enough to tell her that her words had hit a nerve.
“It is a good trait of a godly man to make new friends, indeed,” he said slowly. “But it is a godly trait of a good man to be able to keep them.”
She had to think about his remark for a few long seconds. There was some merit to what Frederick had said, and she certainly could not argue with him. However, his words hinted at an underlying problem. “I take it from your comment that he was unable to keep your friendship, and therefore you do not consider him a good man,” she remarked.
Frederick exhaled, the only indication of any vexation on his part. “The only comment that I can make to your statement is that if George Wickey and I had been on friendlier terms at one point in time, we are no longer. You see, I have a flaw in character that, once lost, my good opinion of someone is lost forever.”
She wanted to laugh at his statement but realized that he was sincere in what he was saying. A flaw in character? Did he not realize that he had many more than just one? “Vell,” she said sharply, “that does not sound like a display of a very forgiving nature. It would seem to hint to a greater character flaw, if you asked me.”
At this, Frederick glanced at her. “Forgiveness is one thing, Elizabeth,” he scolded her. “That is a character trait of all good Christians. I do not judge George Wickey for things that he has done, but I certainly do not condone them either, and I choose to no longer be acquainted with him.”
“And you will never change your opinion of him?” she cried with a light laugh to her joke.
“What is the meaning of these questions, Elizabeth?” he asked, ignoring her question.
“Why, merely to try to understand the meaning of your character,” she admitted. “I hear such conflicting things about Frederick Detweiler that I’m both puzzled and mildly curious. Unlike you, I do not form prejudice as easily.”
“Nor I!” he exclaimed.
“Ah, but you said that once lost, your good opinion of someone cannot be changed,” she tossed back at him. “What a shame, for by this reasoning, if I have not already received your favorable opinion, I will surely never have it. Your own words claim that to be true, ain’t so?”
With a deep sigh Frederick shook his head. “I would wish that you would not try to analyze my character right now, Elizabeth. As for listening to conflicting reports, I suspect you already know to use caution in believing what you hear and in judging from whose lips such words are spoken.”
“I do believe I am a good judge of character,” she confessed, an edge to her voice.
“And never prone to prejudice?”
“I have never been accused of having such an unchristian trait,” she admitted. “I let my opinions of people develop from real experiences, not from hearsay. I can assure you that, unlike others, my opinions are never preconceived, that is for sure and certain.” The way that she proclaimed that last statement sounded harsh and condescending. Clearly she was accusing him of having preconceived prejudices, despite not saying the actual words. Immediately she wished that she could take her statement back, for it had sounded haughtier than intended.
“I see,” he said, turning the buggy down a lane toward the back of her daed’s farm. “Well, now that we have that established, it appears that we have arrived at your daed’s home.” He stopped the buggy by the side of the house and stepped on the brake. He leaned back in the seat for a moment, letting the silence stand between them.
From the fields crickets chirped, creating a choir of music. There was no moon, and the stars twinkled in the sky. In the distance the rolling noise of another buggy could be heard, along with the rhythm of the horse’s hooves hitting the macadam. Another couple going for a drive after having attended another singing, no doubt.
Frederick slid open the buggy’s door and stepped down, the boxlike vehicle shifting as he did so. He reached his hand inside for Lizzie to take, and to her surprise, it was with care and tenderness that he helped her step down and onto the driveway. He stood there and glanced at the sky, almost as though he was going to make a comment. Then, thinking better of it, he looked at Lizzie and nodded his head.
“Danke for the company.” That was all that she heard him say before he took a proper step back and waited for her to turn toward the house.
Without a word Lizzie turned and hurried into the darkness, putting as much distance between her and Frederick Detweiler as she could. Once inside the house she shut the door and leaned against it, wondering about her own behavior. She had never met a man as insufferable as that man. Still, that did not excuse her insolence toward him. She could only shut her eyes and pray to God that not only would He forgive her but also she would forgive herself.
Chapter Eleven
MONDAY MORNING DURING breakfast Wilmer walked down the stairs, dressed in his Sunday’s best as if to impress someone. The unfortunate part was that no one was paying attention to his entrance. Instead, plates were being passed around the table while Maem fussed over Lydia’s complaints regarding being just three weeks shy of turning sixteen and why could she not attend the next singing?
Clearing his throat, Wilmer tried to gain their attention. However, the noise of seven people seated around the table was too great for anyone to hear him.
“But then I’ll have to wait almost a month, Maem!” Lydia whined.
“It’ll be here soon enough, dochder,” Maem tried to reason.
With a pout Lydia refused the plate of eggs that Catherine tried to hand over to her.
“Is this a hunger strike, then?” Maem scolded. She lifted her eyes to meet her husband’s, visibly exasperated with her youngest dochder. “Lydia won’t eat now!”
> “Which is exactly why she’s too young to attend singings, my fraa,” he retorted casually. His remark had its intended effect, and Lydia snatched the plate of eggs and dished some onto her own. With a satisfied smile Daed raised an eyebrow at his wife and returned his attention to his own breakfast.
Once again Wilmer cleared his throat, a little louder, which this time caught the attention of Jane, who nudged Lizzie. Within seconds everyone was quiet and staring at the small man in his dark suit that was quite out of place for a Monday morning on an Amish farm.
“Are you to go visiting today, then?” Daed asked to break the silence. “Before breakfast?”
Wilmer held his black hat in his hands and shuffled it nervously. A sense of dread washed over Lizzie, and she reached under the table to grab her sister’s hand. Squeezing it, Lizzie tried to stare straight ahead, hoping that, by not making eye contact, the inevitable would not happen.
She was wrong.
“I should like to speak alone to Lizzie after breakfast,” he finally said.
Silence.
Outside a dog barked, and in the distance a horse neighed from its stall. Maem and Daed stared at each other while Lizzie clung to Jane’s hand, refusing to look at anyone. Lydia’s mouth fell open, and she stared at her sister before a giggle escaped from her lips, despite Catherine elbowing her sharply in the ribs. Mary seemed perplexed, looking first from Wilmer to Lizzie then to her maem.
“I think we are all done here,” Maem finally said, slowly rising to her feet. “Lizzie, you go with Wilmer now. He wishes to speak to you.”
The color drained from Lizzie’s face. “I’m sure cousin Wilmer can speak to me here,” she said between clenched teeth, emphasizing the word cousin. “There is nothing so private that cannot be shared.”
As if Maem had not heard her words, she bustled about the kitchen, plucking plates from the table and carrying them to the counter. If breakfast had not been over beforehand, it was over now. Lydia and Catherine quickly stood up from the bench and began gathering the dishes, their shoulders touching as they whispered into each other’s ears.
