by Sarah Price
“And your daed, Charles?” Lizzie asked, returning her attention to the other man after she withdrew her hand from Frederick’s. “I hear he is much better. We all prayed for his recovery.”
“Oh ja, right as rain but taking it easy on the farm these days,” Charles admitted. “Danke for your prayers.”
“Are you visiting or planning on staying?” she ventured to ask.
“I . . . I am not rightly certain,” he mumbled, his eyes once again roaming around the room. “I have some unfinished business to settle that will determine the outcome.”
This news delighted Lizzie, for she could only suspect one type of business that would have drawn Charles back to Leola. Still, she kept her enthusiasm to herself and smiled at both men. “Ja, vell, I will not keep you further from visiting with others,” she managed to say. “It was right nice seeing you both again.”
Later that afternoon Charles and Frederick reappeared, this time at the Blank farm. Maem was resting on the sofa, a glass of lemonade in her hand while Mary sat on the ladder-back chair, playing her harmonica despite having being asked twice to stop by her seemingly annoyed maem. Catherine, having quieted down since her younger sister’s marriage to George Wickey, was busy writing a letter to Lydia. Jane and Lizzie were playing a game of Scrabble while their daed was enjoying a nap in the bedroom, punctuated by occasional bouts of snoring that the entire family could hear.
It was Catherine who first heard the carriage pull down the driveway. She stood up instantly and hurried to the window, glancing outside as she waited to see who had arrived. And then, with a gasp, she spun around and cried out, “Jane! Maem! It’s Charles! He’s come calling!”
At this announcement the room suddenly became a flurry of activity as everyone quickly tried to put things away and remove unwashed dishes from the counter. The Scrabble game was forgotten, and with one arm Lizzie brushed the remaining tiles into the box so that Jane could put it away. Pillows were fluffed and the counter wiped. It was the best they could do for not having expected visitors on a sleepy Sunday afternoon.
When the knock was heard on the door, Maem nodded to Catherine to answer it. Jane and Lizzie were seated on the sofa, their hands folded on their laps as if they had just been casually sitting there in conversation. Maem had taken her place in the rocking chair, a worn leather copy of the family’s Martyrs Mirror on her lap. It was the perfect vision of serenity when not one, but two gentlemen, entered the room.
Lizzie felt her heart skip a beat as she realized that Frederick stood behind Charles, both men holding their hats in their hands. They were still wearing their Sunday suits and looked rather handsome for the effort.
“Why, Charles Beachey,” Maem finally said. “And Frederick Detweiler. What a surprise it was to see you both today at worship!”
Charles looked nervous and fidgety, his eyes meeting Maem’s but always glancing back at Jane. “Ja, it was nice to be back,” he replied politely.
“What brings you back to Leola, then?” she asked, her voice a pitch too high to sound natural.
“The farm,” he responded politely. “It needs tending, of course.”
“I see,” Maem replied, a hint of disappointment in her voice. “Well, the dairy must be well tended, with George and my Lydia living there.”
Lizzie wanted to roll her eyes at the mention of George and Lydia. It had been a miracle that the Beachey family had not thrown the two of them onto the streets after the terrible stunt they had pulled. If anything, the dairy cows were probably under-milked and ill cleaned. Lizzie was certain that Charles and Frederick had returned to find the farm and the house in disarray. Lydia had always been one to procrastinate and wait for others to do the worst of the chores, pretending to busy herself with something mundane. Lizzie could scarcely see her youngest schwester being willing to do laundry, forget about cleaning the house or knowing how to cook a decent meal.
“That’s just the thing,” he said slowly. “They will be moving, and that would leave the farm unattended once again.”
At this statement Maem’s mouth dropped, and she stared at him, speechless. The room remained silent as his announcement was repeated silently in their heads. No one could speak. While the family had seen Lydia and George at the worship service that morning, they had not talked with them at any length. Nor had anyone in the Blank family visited them at home, with Daed and the two older sisters still disappointed in and recovering from their sudden disappearance and their unexpected nuptials.
Finally, breaking the silence, Lizzie managed to speak up. “Moving? We have heard nothing about this.”
She noticed Frederick taking a deep breath, but he did not reply. Instead it was Charles who spoke up. “They have acquired a farm just south of Strasburg.”
Maem’s eyes opened wide. “In Strasburg?”
Lizzie felt the same sense of shock as her mother. A farm in Strasburg meant a new beginning for the couple, away from gossip and ruined reputations. A farm in Strasburg meant that they were far away enough to start over while being close enough to visit. A farm in Strasburg meant that they would be on their own to succeed or fail without the help of family to come to their aid or rescue them from financial excess. They would be forced to grow up and face the reality of their situation, at last.
“How on earth could they afford their own farm?” Lizzie gasped.
“Farms are rather pricey in that area, ain’t so?” Maem added with more than a hint of curiosity in her voice.
“It’s only forty acres or so, and some of that wooded,” Charles said, acknowledging both Lizzie’s and Maem’s questions. “Quite manageable for just the two of them.”
The way that he stated it caused Lizzie to turn and stare at Frederick. He avoided her eyes, but she still could read his expression. Without being told, she knew exactly what had happened. The family had come together to salvage both George Wickey and Lydia Blank; they had bought him a farm, thus giving him a chance to begin again. Yet, since she knew that this was not the first time the family had come forward to save George, she could scarcely find a reason why they would have done something like this a second time.
Maem tried to regain her composure as she digested this information. “She hasn’t even told us,” she said incredulously.
“It just happened this past week,” Charles admitted. “Until everything was settled, it was thought best not to mention it.” He glanced at Jane, almost apologetic. “Dashed hopes and all.”
“Oh, help,” Maem said, pressing her hand against her chest. “My Lydia! To have her own farm!” As the realization sunk in, she looked pleased, and her expression changed from shock to elation. “I always knew that she’d make something of herself.”
“Maem!” Lizzie hissed.
Her maem looked up, suddenly aware that she had spoken out loud but not seemingly bothered by it. “Where are my manners? Please come sit and visit. Mayhaps stay for a light supper?”
Charles took a deep breath and shook his head. “Nee, but danke,” he said politely. “I would like, if possible, a word alone with Jane.”
The room fell silent.
Everyone stared at Jane. Even Maem seemed stunned by this very non-private request, but she nodded before retreating to the bedroom where Daed still lay napping. Quietly, Lizzie stood up and gestured to Catherine to follow her. They stepped out the back door where Mary was sitting, her harmonica in her hand and pressed against her lips, quietly practicing a popular Amish song. Lizzie nudged her and whispered for her to stop playing and join her and Catherine for a walk. The three women walked toward the front of the house and over toward the barn, where the spring kittens lounged in the fading sunlight, their now gangly bodies seeming too big and awkward, like those of adolescents.
Lizzie noticed that Frederick had retreated to the front porch. With his hat on his head and his hands behind his back, he stared off into the distance. If she wanted to go to him, to speak to him, she knew better than to do so. Being bold with a man was not somet
hing that any Amish woman would dare to do. However, she couldn’t help but wish that, once again, as he had done in the past, he would take a few quick steps to catch up with her.
He didn’t.
Charles did not stay alone with Jane for very long: five minutes at the most. When he departed from the house, he smiled nervously at Frederick, and the two men quickly took their leave of the property. Lizzie held back her two younger sisters, waiting until the buggy pulled away from their house and turned onto the main road before they hurried back into the house.
Jane remained seated in the same place, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. She stared up at Lizzie and quickly glanced away, but not before her sister caught the look of happiness on her face.
Upon hearing the other women reenter the room, the bedroom door opened and Maem bustled out, her dress making a whooshing sound around her bare ankles. “Well, tell us all!” she demanded impatiently.
Jane looked up at her maem and laughed at the so-familiar look of eagerness upon her face. “There’s nothing to tell, Maem. He begged my forgiveness for disappearing and not writing.”
“Oh, help,” Maem mumbled, sinking back into her recliner. “Is that all, then?”
“Nee,” Jane said, a sly look on her face. “He asked if I was going to the singing this evening and if he could pick me up and accompany me.”
At this news Maem seemed rejuvenated. “Pick you up? Before the singing?”
Jane tried to hide her delight. “Ja, before the singing.”
“Oh, my Jane!” Maem clapped her hands together. It was a rarity for a young man to take a woman to the singing. That was usually saved for couples who had already announced their plans to be wed. It was highly unusual for such a request to be made unless marriage was the final intention. “It’s all but settled then!”
“Maem!” Lizzie exclaimed disapprovingly for the second time in less than an hour. “Mayhaps that’s how they do it in Ohio.” The last thing Lizzie wanted was to see her sister hurt once again. It would do no good for Maem to begin planning a wedding just because Charles had come calling. Deep down, however, Lizzie hoped his intentions were, indeed, to correct his wrong. “Besides, it’s best not to raise up one’s hopes only to see them dashed!” she added, referencing Charles’s own comments from earlier in the visit.
At this statement Jane laughed and waved her hand at Lizzie. “My hopes are not up again, Lizzie. I’m just pleased that we can be friends.”
Lizzie tilted her head and stared at her sister, giving her a look of disbelief. “Friends?” She paused, waiting for Jane to nod her answer. “Friends? I think I was friendly with Charles Beachey. And I certainly did not see him asking for my forgiveness or asking to take me to the singing. Friends, indeed!”
Jane smiled and blushed.
Lizzie tried to look reproachfully at her sister, but the mirth in Jane’s eyes could not be contained. It was clear that there was something else that Jane was not sharing with them, and whatever this news was, it made her most happy. Lizzie frowned, realizing that there was more to this visit than met the eye, and for that she was grateful.
Chapter Twenty-Three
LIZZIE WAS SEATED on the bench by the table, husking the last of the summer corn along with Jane and Catherine. The Blank women had been canning food all week: peaches, apples, beets, beans, meat, and now corn. The pantry was already chock-full with rows and rows of different-sized glass jars with colorful food that would be used throughout the upcoming season until the family garden grew again in the spring. All week long the house had contained wonderful smells of freshly baked bread mixed with whatever fruits or vegetables they were canning on that particular day. If spring was Lizzie’s favorite season, autumn was a close second.
She loved the shorter days and crisp morning air that came along with them. Every day upon awaking, while it was still dark outside, Lizzie would wrap a black shawl around her shoulders and hurry out to the dairy to help Daed with the morning milking. The sun would be just starting to rise in the sky when they finished. It seemed like such a peaceful time of year, despite the frenzy to prepare the food for the approaching winter months! At least with canning there was a routine to the day, affording plenty of time to quietly reflect within oneself.
During the canning season Lizzie’s favorite activity was the canning of meatballs. While it was always a sad day when a cow had to be taken to the butcher, she knew that the animals were there to serve them and that their family had to eat. When her daed would bring back home the boxes of ground meat, Lizzie was always the first to begin overseeing the canning process: a touch of salt, a little pepper, meat rolled into balls after mixing with some more spices and herbs, then stored in the glass jars. Mary and Catherine would wipe the lids and set them into the canning pans in order to seal the containers.
But today it was corn. Her maem liked to freeze some of the sweet kernels as well as make enough corn relish for the pantry to last the family the entire winter. If there was one thing Lizzie did not like, it was shucking the corn. She disliked the mess of the shells on the table and the strands of silk that would stick in between the rows of yellow corn. With great determination she would pull at the little silk threads, trying her best to rid each ear of every one of them. Usually that was a job she would have delegated to Lydia, but this year Lydia would have to can her own food for her own pantry with George.
It gave Lizzie a mild sense of satisfaction to know that Lydia was now on her own and forced to tend to her own kitchen without the help of her maem or siblings. For all of Lydia’s gayness and rash behavior, certainly she had not thought through what she was doing when she ran off with George Wickey. No amount of sweet words and dreamy looks could have prepared Lydia for being a farmer’s wife, that was for sure and certain.
“Oh, hurry with that corn, Lizzie,” Maem snapped. “And be certain to sweep the floor proper when you are finished!”
Lizzie rolled her eyes but did not retort.
From outside the faint noise of a harmonica announced that Mary was coming. She had been in the barn, helping her daed with chores while Lizzie worked in the kitchen. The harmonica stopped and the screen door opened, a squeak of the hinges announcing that someone was entering.
“There’s a phone call for you,” Mary said, walking into the house.
Everyone looked up at the same time, wondering to whom she had addressed this. When they realized that Mary was looking at Lizzie, Jane and Catherine turned to stare at each other then at her.
She felt her cheeks color at the attention. “For me?” The two words came out in a strange voice, one that she did not recognize. Lizzie could scarcely believe that Mary had directed the statement to her.
Mary looked equally as surprised as she nodded her head. “Daed answered it and he told me to fetch you. Some woman wants to speak to you.”
“Did you take her number then?”
Shaking her head, Mary gestured toward the barn. “She insisted that she’d wait on the line until we found you.”
This was odd indeed. No one ever called Lizzie. There was no reason for it. The phone was kept in the barn for work purposes and, on rare occasions, for making phone calls to arrange for a driver or confirm a visit with friends. Those calls were almost always made by Maem or Daed, that was for certain. Never had Lizzie received a call with the exception of a few times from Charlotte when she had lived in Leola.
Lizzie hurried out the door, not bothering to put on a pair of shoes or grab a sweater. It was cool outside as the weather was beginning to change, but it was not cold enough to bother Lizzie. She ran across the grass and toward the barn where, in the back room, the phone was hanging by its cord.
“Hello?” she asked hesitantly into the receiver as she picked it up.
“Elizabeth Blank?”
The voice sounded familiar, but Lizzie couldn’t quite place it. “Ja,” she confirmed, still trying to place the voice on the other end of the phone line. “And you . . . ?”
&nb
sp; A pause. “Christiana Bechler, as if you didn’t already know!” came the sharp and piercing reply.
Immediately Lizzie panicked. Why on earth would Christiana Bechler from the Dutch Valley in Ohio be calling her? Her first thought was that something had happened to Charlotte, but the moment she thought this, she realized that Wilmer would have called her or Charlotte’s parents. She couldn’t begin to imagine why this woman would have contacted her. “Is everything all right?”
“Of course it is not all right! Don’t trifle with me, Elizabeth Blank. You know exactly why I am calling!”
Lizzie almost laughed. If she never received any phone calls, why on earth would she know why this woman, whom she had only briefly met on her trip to Ohio, would be contacting her? “I can assure you that I do not.”
There was a momentary silence on the other end. Lizzie had the distinct feeling that Christiana was trying to collect her thoughts before speaking any further. Yet it was obvious that something was on her mind; she was clearly upset and had something important to say. It dawned on Lizzie that the woman would have most likely received the phone number from Charlotte or Wilmer. She wondered why neither one would have alerted her that Christiana Bechler had requested her private information.
And then Christiana spoke. “The most disturbing news has reached my ears, and I would have come to see you in person if the distance wasn’t so great!”
Lizzie made a face and stared at the phone. She was astonished at what Christiana had said. Disturbing news? Visit in person? Clearly something was amiss, especially if it was so troubling to the elderly woman. Not trusting herself to speak, Lizzie waited for Christiana to explain.
“I am a very frank and forthright woman, Elizabeth, and thus I will not listen to gossip,” the woman went on, the condescending tone of her voice not lost on Lizzie. “I have heard the most impossible news that you have designs to marry my nephew, Frederick Detweiler, and I am calling you to inquire as to whether this news is indeed true!”
