by Sarah Price
For a few moments they walked in silence. Lizzie held her breath, waiting for Frederick to speak. He seemed comfortable with the silence, however, his hands tucked into his pockets as he walked alongside of her, his eyes straight ahead and his expression devoid of any emotion. Determined to wait for him to be the first to speak, she continued to walk as if nothing was amiss.
Twenty minutes had passed, and she felt him pull back. Stopping, she looked up at him, realizing how much taller he seemed. She had never noticed how large in stature he was, with such broad shoulders and long back. Handsome could not but describe him. Still, the realization that, despite the exterior, his interior was lacking brought her back to reality.
He did not see her studying him as he glanced at the sky then over his shoulder. “We should turn back, ja?” He didn’t wait for her response before he turned and started walking back, hesitating for just a moment until Lizzie had done the same and was now walking beside him.
To her further surprise, the return trip to the Bechler farm was the same as going: neither spoke. When it became apparent that Frederick was walking for the sake of exercise and not for company, Lizzie relaxed a bit and let her mind wander as her eyes took in the new surroundings. Things seemed greener in Ohio, although she wondered if that was not her eyes playing tricks on her. With the rolling hills of green, it seemed more alive and interesting to the eye than Leola. There were pockets of trees everywhere, something else that was not familiar to Lizzie. And the farms, indeed, were much closer together.
Charlotte and Anna were seated on the porch when they walked down the driveway. Anna was staring into the distance, not once lifting her eyes to seek out Frederick’s. Charlotte, however, smiled when she saw her friend and jumped to her feet. She hurried to meet the two approaching figures.
“They are still discussing the buggy issue,” she said lightly. “Dare I say there may be no resolution?”
Frederick exhaled sharply. “Of course there is no resolution. To forbid the youths from doing it will only make them want to do it anyway, and without their being members of the church yet, who is to stop them?”
“And if you ignore it?” Lizzie challenged, wanting to hear his logical answer to that question and engage him in a verbal sparring match.
“You are merely accepting it by omission of complaint. Either way, the practice will continue. The least amount of strife is in ignoring it for now.”
Lizzie looked at Charlotte, annoyed to see her friend’s amused expression. “That seems very brazen, however. Showing their legs on purpose! Why, I’m surprised the parents would allow such a display!”
“Mayhaps the parents are unaware of their behavior,” Frederick responded drily. “Have you considered that?” He paused, as if allowing Lizzie time to think about what he had said before he continued. “In which case, should the youths be blamed or the parents?”
“It’s different here,” Charlotte said quickly as if to avoid a heated debate between the two. “I can’t explain it, Lizzie, for I have yet to fully understand it myself. However, I know that it is still a right gut place to live.” She glanced at Frederick then back to her friend. “It just takes some getting used to, is all.”
“I give you a lot of credit, Charlotte,” Lizzie quipped lightly. “Brazen girls and parents lacking control over their kinner . . . I can only imagine what other changes you will need to get used to.”
Charlotte laughed lightly. “I think getting married is change enough, Lizzie. The actual community does not matter so much, even if they are quite different. It’s being in a godly marriage and being happy in it, at that.”
“Why, I couldn’t have said it any better!” Lizzie wished she could clap her hands in delight at Charlotte’s statement. “If only the rest of us could be blessed with the same: a partnership and friendship with a love of God. That is the foundation of a right gut marriage.”
With a sly glance Lizzie observed Frederick’s reaction. He barely flinched at her words, but Lizzie could tell that he was dwelling on them. She wondered whether he was thinking of Charles with his sister or himself with that frail mouse of a girl, Anna. Perhaps, she realized, he had swayed Charles from returning to Leola and, ultimately, to Jane, because he was selfish and did not wish his friend so far away from him. Nor did he want him happy, it appeared.
It certainly said a lot about his character and further reinforced her very reasons for not caring for him . . . not one bit.
Chapter Fifteen
IT WAS EIGHT o’clock Monday morning. Charlotte and her parents had gone for a walk with the boys to the schoolhouse down the lane. The younger ones were starting their first day, and Charlotte had wanted to show her parents where their future grandchildren would study. Lizzie had suspected that she also wanted to show them some more of the area. Wilmer had disappeared immediately after breakfast, hitching the horse to the buggy and driving it down the road.
With the house to herself Lizzie had time to write to her sister, patiently trying to think of interesting things to say while avoiding the unmentionable: Charles Beachey and Grace Detweiler. Lizzie was seated at the table, tapping the end of the pen against the piece of paper. She had made a promise to herself not to write anything about what she had heard from Wilmer. After all, to spread such a story was gossip and hurtful at that. The last thing she would ever want to do would be to say something in a letter to her special sister that might upset her, especially given the chance that it might not be entirely true. Despite being the bishop, Wilmer was most likely not the most reliable source of information, she suspected. Or, rather, she hoped.
For a long moment she sat in the quiet of the kitchen, pondering what to actually write. There was only so much she could tell about the weather and the different types of landscape. She did admit that it was very beautiful and that, even in Lancaster County, she had never seen a blue sky the same brilliant color as in the Dutch Valley. She started to write about her visit to the Bechler farm the previous afternoon, but she set her pen down and paused. For some reason she felt hesitant to mention that Frederick had been there. She certainly did not want to tell her about how he had joined her for a walk after the meal. He had seemed so at ease and comfortable, despite not saying one word to her. She had to admit that there was something about him that made her feel confused, and until she figured it out, she certainly didn’t want to put pen to paper about it.
“You are alone?”
Lizzie looked up, startled to see Frederick standing in the kitchen doorway. She hadn’t heard him enter the room and wondered how long he had been standing there. Had he been watching her? The thought unnerved her, and she flipped over the letter before she turned to face him. He held his hat in his hand, spinning it slowly as he grasped it. With his dark pants and a crisp white short-sleeved shirt, he looked ready to work, yet everything was too clean for doing so.
“You frightened me,” she said, half laughing.
He didn’t apologize for having frightened her but looked about nervously. “No one else is home then?”
“I’m afraid not,” she confessed, glancing around the room as if to prove the truth behind the statement. “The others have left, but I suspect Charlotte should be returning momentarily. I can’t speak for Wilmer, however.” Frederick stared at her, his hair swooping over his forehead and his eyes wide. When he made no further attempt to comment, she gestured toward the chair. “You are welcome to wait for them.”
He stood still, not moving from the doorway. The expression on his face was like nothing she had ever seen. Nervous and tense. And this coming from one of the most overly confident men she had ever met.
“Frederick?”
“Nee,” he said, shaking his head and looking at her again. “I came to see you.”
“Me?” The word came out of her mouth with the utmost surprise, sounding like a squeak rather than a word. Without thinking, she exclaimed, “I cannot imagine for what reason!”
He glanced at the window and seemed nervous.
“It’s a lovely day, ja?”
Setting down her pen, Lizzie leaned back and stared at him. Had he gone addle-brained? “It is a nice day, ja,” she replied slowly. She hated to admit it to herself, but this side of Frederick Detweiler was so different from their previous interactions that she was genuinely amused and a touch curious. “Would you care to sit? We can further discuss the delightful weather if you’d like. And I believe there is still coffee in the pot. I’d be happy to warm it.”
He lifted a hand to stop her. “Nee, nee,” he mumbled. “But danke. I did not mean to intrude or be a bother.”
“Intrude? Bother? I must confess that I am confused, Frederick,” she managed to say. “I don’t quite understand the meaning of any of this.”
He nodded his head and took a step backward. “I must be going, then,” he said. “Cutting hay this morning.” Without another word he turned and left the house.
Stunned, Lizzie stood up and walked to the window. She leaned against the counter, watching as Frederick resumed his usual air of self-confidence and pride as he sauntered over to his horse and buggy, which he had left tied to the hitching ring on the side of the barn. As the buggy passed the house, he never once even turned to look back, such was his determination to leave the Kaufman property with his pride intact after what was, clearly, a disastrous visit on his part.
She was still standing there, her mouth all but hanging open, when Charlotte reappeared after having walked the children to school.
“Wie gehts?” Charlotte asked, a concerned look on her face. “You look pale.”
“The strangest thing just happened,” Lizzie confessed, keeping an eye on the window so that she could see when Charlotte’s parents were approaching. They had walked over to admire the garden upon their return from the schoolhouse. When she was convinced that they would not be interrupted, Lizzie turned to stare at her friend. “You won’t believe this, but Frederick was just here.”
“Frederick Detweiler?” Charlotte seemed as amazed as Lizzie had been. “Why, I haven’t seen him visit with Wilmer since I’ve been here!”
“That’s the funny part,” Lizzie said. “He told me he came to see me!”
“You?” Charlotte laughed but not unkindly. “Whatever for?”
“That’s what I said, and he had no good reason. He commented on the weather and then left!”
“Oh, help,” Charlotte whispered, the laughter gone from her eyes and voice. She stared at Lizzie with an expression of complete wonder. “He’s ferhoodled!”
Ferhoodled? Lizzie caught her breath, wondering how such a thing could possibly be true. Indeed, there had been times when he acted as if he might possibly be interested in Lizzie. Even she had noticed that. Yet his cold mannerism and expressionless face spoke nothing of feelings or emotions. Instead, that part of him was left to the imagination, since he was usually nothing more than a proper Amish man.
And then there was the Charles situation. Why would Frederick be opposed to a relationship between his closest friend and Jane, having witnessed firsthand their fondness for each other, encouraging him instead to marry his own sister, if he, presumably, had feelings for Lizzie? The nature of such a complex situation was too convoluted for Lizzie to even begin to consider grasping it.
She also remembered what George had told her. Any man that would steal another’s birthright was not a godly man and certainly not a man whom Lizzie could ever be interested in courting.
“Don’t say such a thing!” Lizzie hissed. “I don’t want a man such as Frederick Detweiler being ferhoodled on my account!”
“Why else would he visit, Lizzie?” Charlotte asked kindly. “Tell me that? And he went walking with you yesterday. And, if my memory recollects properly, was I not seated beside you back in Leola when he asked you to ride home in his buggy, despite the fact that he not only did not attend the singing but he lived on the very farm where it was being held!”
“I don’t want Frederick Detweiler to be ferhoodled . . . , ” she whispered.
Charlotte shook her head as she reached for her work apron to tie around her waist, in anticipation of the morning’s chores. “Ja, vell,” she answered. “Mayhaps God has another plan for you, Elizabeth Blank. You can’t be in control of everything, I reckon.”
“But . . . Frederick Detweiler?”
The two women stared at each other for a minute, digesting this amazing news, one with admiration in her eyes and the other with fear. And then, just as Charlotte’s parents crossed the driveway to head toward the house, both young women began to laugh, the idea of Frederick Detweiler with his piercing eyes, stoic expression, and rigid posture actually caring for Lizzie seeming too far-fetched and ridiculous to be taken seriously.
Chapter Sixteen
THE FOLLOWING DAY, after Lizzie helped with the breakfast chores, Charlotte shooed her outside, encouraging her friend to take a nice walk along the winding roads behind their house. While reluctant to leave Charlotte alone with so many other things that needed to be done, Lizzie agreed with her friend’s generous suggestion, as she was eager to explore her new surroundings and take in some fresh air.
At the end of the short driveway Lizzie took a deep breath and started walking down the road. She was still enthralled with how different the landscape was in Holmes County, Ohio, when compared to what she was familiar with back in Lancaster County. And the cultural differences of the few people that she had met certainly intrigued her. Clearly there was no cookie-cutter Amish person, either religiously or individually.
It was a humid morning, quite different from the previous day. With low clouds and dampness to the air, it felt as if it might rain. She didn’t mind that the air felt sticky. And rain would certainly help the farmers, even at the end of August. Besides, her mind was still preoccupied with all that had happened in the three days since she had arrived to visit with her friend.
The one thing that pleased her greatly was the contentment with which Charlotte carried herself. What Lizzie could never have imagined possible, Charlotte had made a reality: happiness. Certainly it was an advantageous marriage for Charlotte on many accounts, and as Lizzie could see that her friend was not affected or bothered by the silliness of her husband, she felt that Charlotte had done quite well in making a decision that, at the time, had seemed to be rather rash.
The road curved to the right by a small hill that was overgrown with trees. The branches hung over the dirt road, casting shadows in the morning sun. There were thin tracks in the dirt made by buggies that had driven by either earlier that morning or the previous night. Unlike in Leola with its long roads and flat landscape, Lizzie couldn’t see what was around the corner. It felt like she was on a secret treasure hunt, unsure of what she would see next.
To her delight there was a path between two paddocks leading down the hill. She could not see what was at the end of that path and decided to explore, imagining that the overhanging branches were similar to a jungle in a faraway land. Birds flew overhead, chirping and greeting the morning. She watched them as she walked, smiling to herself. Soon it would be fall and, with the start of that season, the migration south of the summer birds. Left behind would be the plain brown sparrows, which contrasted so sharply with the brilliance of the winter red cardinals, if Ohio was anything like Pennsylvania.
“Elizabeth!”
Hearing her name called out startled her, and she spun around in a moment of panic at the interruption. To her amazement she saw Frederick walking down the path behind her.
“Were you following me, Frederick?” she asked breathlessly, her hand covering her heart. The last thing she had expected was to run into anyone, never mind him, while walking down this secluded road. “You should have made your presence known! You near gave me a fright!”
He did not apologize as he caught up with her. Once again she noticed that he was wearing freshly laundered clothing, no tears in his pants or stains on his shirt. His shoes had been cleaned and bore no trace of dirt or manure. She couldn’t h
elp but wonder what type of farm he ran that he was never in soiled clothing.
“I must speak with you,” he said solemnly when he finally stood before her.
Considering that the day before he had unexpectedly stopped at Wilmer and Charlotte’s house to visit her but had nothing to say, Lizzie was equally surprised that he had, once again, sought her out. “I trust it is not about the weather, then?” she quipped. “For that would be a long walk just to ask about something that appears to be bordering on most unpleasant!” She stared at the sky, missing the brilliant blue sky with fluffy white clouds from the previous three days.
He did not seem amused by her teasing comment. Or, rather, he may not have even heard her for he appeared determined to say what was on his mind. He cleared his throat and stood before her, unaware that she was watching him with great curiosity.
“These past weeks have been most difficult,” he began slowly. She had the distinct feeling that he had practiced his speech. “And I have struggled in vain to convince myself that my infatuation with you is naught but a passing fancy.”
There was nothing he could have said that could have surprised her more. She was so stunned that she could not think of anything to interject when he paused.
He quickly continued. “Our cultural upbringings are so different that any type of relationship would clearly bring extra hardships, especially given the differences in our family backgrounds and financial standings.” He stopped for just a moment to catch his breath. “I have fought against my family expectations as well as against my better judgment, hoping that distance would calm my feelings, but I stand before you today to express my sincere desire to have you agree to end my torment.”
“I do not understand you,” she whispered, her heart beating inside of her chest and her eyes wide as she stared at him, looking so forlorn and miserable after his short speech.
“I love you, Elizabeth Blank.” He lifted his eyes to meet her gaze, the piercing darkness of his typical expression having softened. “Most fervently.”
