A Love for Lizzie

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A Love for Lizzie Page 3

by Tracey J. Lyons


  “Is it true that your vader had a heart attack?” Sadie asked, her gaze darting from Paul to Lizzie.

  “Ja. We think he’s going to be fine, though,” she answered, crossing her arms over her stomach as the full impact of her vader’s condition hit her.

  With her sister, Mary, living in her husband’s community in Montgomery County, a few hours from here, it was up to Lizzie to keep things running on the farm until her mamm or vader returned home.

  Sadie quickly picked up on her unease. Her friend patted her on the arm, saying, “All will be well in time. Already we are all praying for his speedy recovery.” Pointing toward the side yard, Sadie added, “See there? Those people are your friends and they care a great deal about your vader.”

  Lizzie looked past Sadie and saw a group of her neighbors and other community members standing in a circle, their heads bowed. The hems on the women’s blue dresses flapped against their legs as a warm summer breeze blew across the yard. Some of the men had left their jobs to come and offer support. Even though she knew it was the way of the Amish to come and lend a helping hand to a neighbor in need, she still felt uneasy about having all these people at her home. It appeared, though, that Sadie and Paul were both correct: everyone was doing something to help.

  Her lower lip trembled as she fought back her tears. “Vader sent me back. He said there was a lot that needed to be tended to. And it looks like he was right.” Lizzie swiped a hand across her cheeks, starting to walk toward the house.

  Paul fell into step beside them. “I see my bruders, Ben and Abram are here.”

  He nodded in the direction of the barn, where Lizzie could see fourteen-year-old Abram walking out of the barn with a wheelbarrow full of horse manure. Ben came out behind him, yelling that Abram had left a mess behind.

  “So, three Burkholders have set aside their own chores for my family,” Lizzie mumbled, nodding at them. They gave her a wave, and then she dipped her head to one side. “That was very kind of them to come by.”

  A monarch butterfly flitted in front of her face. Lizzie raised her hand, swishing it away, not in the mood to ponder the creature.

  “I need to get to the kitchen. I understand there are men out in the field, working to bring in the rest of the hay that Vader was harvesting this morning. And then there are the cows to milk and feed. I’ll need to cook something to feed everyone.” She twisted her mouth into a thin line, making a mental list of the food they had on hand.

  She knew there would be enough chicken for a stew, and there were several loaves of bread in the pantry, along with beans and potatoes. There were some zucchini squash, tomatoes, cucumbers and lettuce in the garden that could be picked.

  Paul caught her gaze and smiled. “Listen to me. You have plenty of help everywhere, even in the kitchen. I suspect my mamm is here, too.”

  “What? I can’t have your whole family at our house.”

  “Trust me, I have plenty of family to go around.” He let out a chuckle. “With my five siblings, the lot of them would easily fill up your kitchen.”

  She managed to muster a smile.

  He gently walked her and Sadie down the drive, up the porch steps and into the house, where a beehive of activity was going on. Excusing herself, Sadie rushed into the kitchen, making her way over to the long counter. Lizzie watched her laying out rows of sliced white bread. To her right another young woman was adding slices of cheese and turkey to one side of the sandwich. Paul had left her to go say hello to his mamm, who was dumping boiled potatoes from a large pot into a colander in the sink.

  Lizzie realized she’d been standing in the doorway. Looking down at her apron, the same light blue color as her dress, Lizzie frowned. Despite her fatigue, with her mamm absent it was her duty to help run things in the kitchen. Pulling the apron she’d been wearing over her shoulders, she shrugged out of it. She hung it on one of the wall pegs near the front door. Her hand brushed against a boy’s straw hat. The felt band looked brand-new. But Lizzie knew it was exactly ten years old.

  Some days she wished her mamm would put the hat away. Seeing that hat reminded everyone of David. She put her house apron on and tied the sash around her waist. Having the hat here or not, Lizzie would never forget her bruder. Unlike in the homes of their Englisch neighbors, here there were no family photos, so they were left with only the memory of the images of their lives.

  Lizzie closed her eyes, seeing David’s face in her mind’s eye. The eyes that matched hers in color, the dark hair that no matter how hard Mamm tried to brush it in place, always stuck out from beneath this hat. She imagined the dimples that appeared when he smiled. She heard his laughter. She shook her head to clear out those thoughts. Blinking away the emotions that seemed to come every time she thought of her bruder, Lizzie realized Sadie had stopped making sandwiches and was watching her with concern.

  Crossing the room, she came over to her. “How about you let me get you a nice glass of the fresh lemonade that Mrs. Yoder brought over.”

  “That would be nice,” Lizzie said as she took another apron from a peg and put it on. Tying the sash off, she followed Sadie into the kitchen.

  Lizzie took the glass from her friend’s hand, not realizing until this moment how thirsty she was. She took a gulp from the drink, letting the coolness slide down her parched throat. She set the half-empty glass on the counter, wondering where to begin. At the back of the kitchen, a door stood ajar. If not for her vader’s health, the laundry room would have been bustling with activity today.

  Not only were the long summer days good for bringing in the hay, but they were also good for drying the wash. All through their community, backyard clotheslines would be filled with dark pants, white shirts and dresses. Monday was wash day. And the cars would come through in slow, long lines as the tourists tried to capture the image of their laundry on their fancy cameras or cell phones. Lizzie wanted to laugh because if they knew how much work was involved in getting a single load of wash done, maybe they’d see those images in a different way.

  The dark pants, blue shirts, dresses and aprons would have to wait until tomorrow for their washing because right now there was a group of men waiting to be fed. Lizzie began helping the women carry out the bowls of potato salad and fruit salad, along with the platter of sandwiches and cutlery to a makeshift plywood-and-sawhorse table that had been set up underneath the shade of a large maple tree out in the backyard.

  One of the women had gone to signal to the men that it was mealtime. She heard the clanking of the bell that hung outside the front door. In some homes a bell like this would be used to signal an emergency. Her father had installed a phone shanty on their property a few years ago. It was only used for business or for emergencies. Today she’d been beyond thankful for the convenience. Though it had seemed like an hour to her, the ambulance had arrived within minutes of her 911 call.

  She knew in some Amish communities, the Ordnung forbade the use of any kind of phones, in which case a person had to travel to the nearest business to use one or depend on their Englisch neighbors to let them borrow theirs. Lizzie had even heard of some of the younger folks being allowed the use of cell phones. She shook her head at that thought. She couldn’t imagine needing one of those.

  Here in Miller’s Crossing, New York, there were several Amish communities. The one where her family lived was allowed to have curtains on their windows and linoleum flooring in the houses. Lizzie felt pleased to have some of the more modern amenities. This brought her sister, Mary, to mind. As soon as the meal was over, she would get a message to her about their vader. Her sister had married Aaron Yoder last year and moved over an hour away. Mary and Aaron’s church Ordnung didn’t allow for such niceties in the homes. It had been a week or so since Mary’s last letter. Lizzie knew her schweschder had had some trouble adjusting to her new life, but she loved her husband, so she was willing to try. The family was planning to be together the first
Tuesday in October for their cousin Rachel’s wedding.

  Thoughts of Mary’s new life and their cousin’s wedding gave Lizzie pause. With her vader’s heart condition, she had no idea what tomorrow would hold, let alone if they could actually attend the wedding. As she spooned potato salad onto the plates, she thought about how all around her, family and friends were starting new lives, growing their own families. And here she was, still on the farm with her mamm and vader like a bobbli. Yes, she loved her life here, even if at times things did seem complicated. Even before his sudden illness, her vader had needed help on the farm. If she were to take a husband, things could be different.

  As she so often found herself doing in times of stress, Lizzie ran her hand along the scar on her face. What man would want someone so disfigured? Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Paul acting kind with his mamm. Lizzie couldn’t help but think of all the years of kindness he’d shown her. He was a good friend and neighbor. A fine man. Paul would make an excellent husband for one lucky woman.

  But that woman would not be her.

  * * *

  Paul had spotted his mamm at the stove in the Millers’ kitchen, getting ready to drain a large pot of green beans into a colander in the sink, and hurried over to take the heavy pot from her.

  “Here, Mamm. Let me do this for you.”

  “Ja, my strong son to the rescue,” she said, stepping aside to let him dump the pot. The hot steam wafted up between them as the string beans and water fell into the metal colander. Gently nudging him aside, she took the colander from him and shook the vegetables from side to side, helping the water drain out.

  “I see you brought Lizzie home from the hospital. She looks tired and worried,” his mother said in a soft voice.

  “The doctors haven’t told them much about her vader’s heart condition. From the sounds of it, he’ll be in the hospital a few more days while they run some tests.”

  “Danke Gott you were there when it happened.”

  Leaning his hip against the counter, Paul wondered about the cause of Mr. Miller’s heart attack. Then again, from what he’d heard, these health conditions generally did not manifest overnight. Still, he imagined the stress of trying to run this farm single-handedly hadn’t helped. There had been rumors floating about in the community for a long time that the man had been working long hours, burning the candle at both ends, with not much help. Keeping that sort of pace for too long couldn’t be good. Even though he generally worked long hours, Paul always left time in his week for time off to pray and reflect. As he recalled, Joseph Miller had been absent from the past few church meetings. A habit that was highly frowned upon by the church leaders.

  “I’m not sure I did anything that mattered other than check to see if he was breathing.”

  His mamm patted him on the arm, saying, “You were there for Lizzie. And you made sure she got to and from the hospital. That’s what’s important, sohn. That’s what she’ll remember.”

  “I’m her friend—of course I was there for her.”

  He stopped thinking about Lizzie for a moment and then wondered what his mamm would do when she found out what his plans for the future were. Though he knew she wanted the best for him, he also didn’t want to be the cause of conflict in the family.

  “Paul...”

  The sound of her quiet voice brought him out of his reverie. From the soft look on her face, he knew exactly what she was going to say about the relationship between him and Lizzie.

  Paul cut her off with, “Please don’t go there. To me, she’s always been and will always be David’s sister. Nothing more.”

  She gave him a thoughtful look, her brown eyes warm with love and bracketed with fine lines. She patted him on the arm, then said, “If that’s how you want to see it. One more thing to consider, my sohn, that tragic day happened a long time ago. I know sometimes it’s hard to understand Gott’s ways. But you and Lizzie, you need to make peace and put the past where it belongs. Your future could be bright.”

  “I’m friends with her. Nothing more,” he insisted.

  As she turned away from him to put the string beans in a large bowl, he heard her mumble, “For now.”

  Chapter Three

  Taking the bowl from his mudder, he dropped a kiss on her cheek and then headed out to the backyard. He walked over to the food table and handed the bowl to Lizzie. She barely gave him any attention as she took the beans from him.

  “I’ll take that bowl off your hands,” she said.

  He tipped his hat to her and went to find a seat at the makeshift table.

  While he dug into the midday meal, he became aware of Lizzy’s gaze on him. He wondered what she was thinking. No doubt she was still feeling overwhelmed at finding herself in charge of the household for the moment. He gave her a smile, knowing that even if she didn’t think so, she was more than capable of handling the situation.

  He shuffled down a few spaces on the bench as his bruder Abram plunked his plate down and swung a leg over to sit beside him. Paul watched in awe as he emptied the plate of the large portion of potato salad in three forkfuls.

  “You need to slow down, Abram, or one of these days you’ll end up choking.”

  His brother smiled at him and shook his head, saying, “Mamm’s salad is still the best in these parts.”

  Paul nodded as he picked up the sandwich he’d added to his plate. Taking a generous bite, he realized he was hungry, too. He also realized he needed to get back home to do the chores there and help finish up the cabinet job he had been helping his vader with. Swallowing, he knew he had to talk to his vader soon. The man who owned the building Paul was interested in renting wanted to know how soon he could begin leasing it.

  It was a good price and he didn’t want to lose the opportunity to set up his own store there. It was a great location, only half a block up from the main intersection in the village. Paul knew the tourists would come into the store. They loved to buy Amish goods. He felt if he listed his furniture at a good but fair price that he would do well.

  After finishing his meal, he took his plate over to the makeshift washing area that had been set up outside the kitchen. Leaving his plate there, he caught Lizzie’s attention and waved at her. She gave him a half wave back. He walked around to the front of the Millers’ house. As he made his way up the driveway, he looked off into the fields. He saw a wagon bringing in a load of hay bales. Near the barn, a line of cows with their udders full lumbered toward the milking parlor. All around him the air was filled with the earthy scents of the farm.

  Ben met him halfway down the drive. As he came closer, Paul saw that he looked to be a bit concerned. Maybe there was a problem on the Millers’ farm or he’d heard news about Lizzie’s father. Either way he wasn’t going to have to wait long to find out, because his bruder caught him by the arm and pulled him to the edge of the lawn.

  “I was just up at our house and Daed is upset with some news he heard from the owner of the general store. Is it true you’ve been looking into renting some shop space?”

  A knot formed in the pit of his stomach as he met his brother’s firm gaze. He’d hoped that word of his plans would not be spread around yet. But small towns being what they were, the thought that he’d be the one to deliver the news to his vader the way he saw fit had been ridiculous to begin with. Frowning at his brother, who’d grown so much over the past spring that he now stood eye to eye with him, Paul knew his vader had to be angry about this.

  The Burkholders had been living in Miller’s Crossing since their Amish community had been founded back in the 1950s by Lizzie’s great-grandfather, Levi Miller. The group had traveled from Ohio in search of affordable farmland and had come upon this vast area of Chautauqua County. Over time, due to the changing economy, the farms had shrunk and the members of the community had taken to establishing lumberyards and other small but sustainable businesses.

 
; Paul’s father had served at one time as the head of their church. Now he was busy with the family furniture business. Though he knew his father would stay tied to their property, Paul wanted desperately to have his own business in the village. He was in his twenties now and wanted to be making his own way within Miller’s Crossing.

  “Paul, is it true?” Ben asked again.

  “Yes,” Paul answered as he looked at the deepening crease on his brother’s forehead. Of all his siblings, Ben was the one who worried the most.

  Continuing up the hill to the top of the driveway, Paul clasped his hand against his brother’s back. “You let me deal with our daed.”

  “He doesn’t want you to leave.”

  Paul shook his head. “I’m not leaving the family. I’m only going into town to sell my furniture.”

  “Plenty of Englischers stop by our shop,” Ben said.

  “They do. But we could be doing better.”

  “We are doing okay. There’s always food on the table and warmth in the house.” Ben’s face turned red as he argued his point.

  Paul didn’t respond to his bruder, other than mentioning the fact that he wanted his own business. He enjoyed working with wood. Smelling the shavings from the floor in the saw room and working to build fine furniture brought him great joy. More importantly, he liked to work with his hands.

  He wasn’t moving out of their farmhouse; he was simply making his own way in the community, like any youngie who was old enough to do so.

  “We should be getting home.”

  “Ja.” Paul walked over to where his brother had parked the wagon, climbed up and sat alongside him on the bench.

  Paul picked up the reins and slapped them against the horse’s backside. The wagon jumped forward as the horse picked up its pace. On the short ride home, Paul thought about what he was going to say to his vader. Paul knew he wasn’t going to be able to change his vader’s ways, but he also knew deep in his heart that he wouldn’t be changing his mind, either. He nudged the horse to the right, making a wide turn with the wagon onto the dirt road that led to his family’s ninety-acre parcel. Most of the land was covered in trees, which were eventually cut into lumber and used in their furniture business. As he drove past their family’s large white farmhouse, he gave a tug on the leather straps of the reins, signaling for the horse to turn onto a narrow dirt roadway that allowed access to their barn. Up ahead stood the attached structure of the woodworking shop, where he and his bruders worked alongside their vader.

 

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