A Love for Lizzie

by Tracey J. Lyons

  Knowing the path well, the horse came to a stop right in front of the open side door. Paul set the reins on the seat between him and Ben. He could feel his bruder’s gaze on him. The last thing on this earth that he would ever do would be to hurt his family. He prayed that his vader would see his reasons for wanting to open up his own shop.

  He felt Ben’s hand on his arm.

  “I’ll see to the horses. You go on inside,” Ben said, still looking worried.

  Paul jumped down from the wagon and ducked inside the doorway of the spacious workshop.

  “Hallo! Is anybody here?” Paul strode through the large open area, where neat piles of lumber stood stacked shoulder height on top of a row of pallets.

  “Ja. What’s all this shouting?” His vader came out of the workshop, shaking the wood shavings off his leather apron.

  Paul looked at the man who, if not for the slight hunch in his back, would be the exact same height as himself. “I’ve got things squared away over at the Miller house,” he said, looking into eyes that were the same shade as his.

  They also shared the same square jawline and cleft chin. Besides their age, their one big difference was the gray hair sprinkled throughout his vader’s beard.

  “How is Joseph doing?”

  “As far as I know, he’s going to be in the hospital for a few more days while they run some tests.”

  His vader didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Paul knew to wait for him to speak.

  His vader nodded to the stack of wood slabs to the right of Paul, saying, “Help me bring two more of these inside.”

  Hoisting one end of the slab onto his shoulder, vader said, “Seems like there was a lot of excitement at the Miller house today. It will be some time before things return to normal.”

  “Ja, for sure and certain. But Lizzie had a lot of help today. And for many days to come, if her family needs it, no doubt.”

  “That’s good.”

  Paul took the other end and followed him into the workroom. They set the wood on top of a large counter. On the wall at the back of the area was a large pegboard where all of the tools hung in neat rows. They worked in silence for a bit while they prepared for the project his vader had been working on. Paul knew better than to try to coax any conversation out of the man. So he waited.

  When his vader stopped to wipe his forehead with a handkerchief, Paul knew the time had come.

  “I’ve a thermos of iced tea over there on the table. Why don’t you pour us some?”

  Doing as his vader had asked, Paul came back to hand his father a full cup, saying, “It looks like you’ve got the Smiths’ cabinet order almost finished.”

  “Ja. This was an easy project. They only needed a simple cupboard for their little girl’s bedroom.” His father said, then took a sip from the cup. He took his time drinking the cool liquid.

  Paul found he wasn’t all that thirsty.

  “I heard from the owner of Becker’s grocery that you’ve been asking around about renting shop space in the village. Did he speak the truth?”

  Paul met his vader’s hard stare. Even though he’d known this time had come, it didn’t make standing here any easier. “Ja, he did.”

  “You’re going to leave your family?” His face reddened.

  “I am not leaving the family.”

  “That is what it sounds like to me, sohn.”

  “Daed. I’ve been looking at our sales numbers for the past few years and we could be doing better.”

  “We are doing well enough.”

  Paul sighed. “I want to put my furniture out where it will be seen by the tourists who are traveling through.”

  “We get plenty of them right now. Besides, I need you here to help with the farm chores.”

  Like most of the community, the Burkholders had both their farm and a business. Some families specialized in cheese production, others canned goods and bakery items. The Troyers had a very popular greenhouse business four miles from here. The Burkholders were cabinetmakers and furniture makers.

  “I can still be doing my chores here and working on the family business.” He knew he had to tread lightly, but in his heart, Paul also knew moving his side of the business was where his future lay. Expanding into the village would eventually bring the entire family more revenue. Paul wanted to make this work. “I would like to be able to do this with your blessing.”

  “You should be concentrating on finding a wife.” Vader wagged his finger at him. “You get married, have children and then you can think about this business idea. Right now your place is here, helping me keep your bruders in line, seeing to the daily chores and working here—” he paused to spread his hands wide “—with your family.”

  Paul lowered his gaze to stare at the top of his boots. He wanted to give his vader time to think about the possibility of expanding, and yet if he didn’t act soon, the shop would surely be rented out to someone else. He couldn’t let that happen.

  “You need time to think about this,” Paul said in a quiet voice.

  “Nee, I don’t. Your place is here.” His vader’s tone was dismissive. “Another order for a cabinet came in while you were over at the Millers’. I wrote the dimensions down. You can get started on that.”

  Paul loved and respected his vader, but he couldn’t accept his decision. Not when Paul hadn’t even shown him his plans for the new store, or explained to him how this would help the entire Burkholder family, not just himself. But his father had turned his back on him. The last time he’d wanted to go against his vader’s wishes had been the day David Miller had died.

  Paul had wanted to go play with his friends in the barn, but it had been a particularly trying day at their house with the loss of one of their cows after a difficult birth. Paul remembered wanting to be allowed to play. That day he’d followed his father’s wishes and stayed home. The outcome had left one friend dead and one scarred for life. To this day he’d felt that if he could have been there in that barn with his childhood friends, he could have prevented what had happened. Paul had never forgiven himself for what had happened.

  Now, more than ever, he wanted to stand his ground. He wanted to see his dream of one day having his own store become a reality. He knew about the pride the Amish took in their families and their homes; after all he had the same pride. He’d taken his time when it’d been his turn to partake in rumspringa. Then Paul had thought about his life as an Amish man, the only life he’d ever known, and how he wanted to be a part of this church district. It had been seven years since he’d taken his vow and been baptized into the church.

  He didn’t see how taking the furniture business into town meant he wouldn’t still be a part of his family’s life here. His plan had always been to live here and work in the village. He had to find a way to make his father come around and give him his blessing. There would be plenty of time later to think about taking a wife and making his own home. He closed his eyes, and for the briefest moment pictured Lizzie standing by his side.

  He knew that dream was further away from reality than owning his own business was.

  * * *

  Lizzie sat in her vader’s favorite chair, the one that had soft fabric covering plump cushions, and looked out the front window. It had been a very long day and she should have been sound asleep in her bed. But her mind wouldn’t settle. There were too many thoughts and memories from this day swirling around in her head. Her mamm had sent a message saying she would be staying at the hospital with her vader overnight. Sadie had offered to stay over so Lizzie wasn’t alone in the house, but Lizzie had sent her home. Lizzie didn’t mind having some quiet time to herself.

  Resting her elbows on the chair arms, she looked out the window and up into the night sky. There had to be a million stars shimmering against the inky blackness. The moon was three-quarters full and cast a sharp glow over the landscape. She looked out ove
r the yard, where the tree limbs swayed in the breeze, their shadows dancing over the dewy lawn. Behind her the clock on the mantel in the living room showed it was ten o’clock.

  Lizzie curled her hand into a soft fist and tucked it beneath her chin. She sat for a few more moments, pondering the day. She thought about how kind Paul had been to her; from the moment he’d brought her the paints until the time he’d returned home, she’d felt his kindness. Lizzie wasn’t sure she deserved it. For years she’d been pushing him away. Though she appreciated his friendship, there could never be anything more between them. Even the things they wanted in life were so different.

  Paul wanted to open up a shop in the village. She didn’t understand how he could walk away from his family business. He’d begun to tell her about it earlier today, but they were interrupted by the hospital receptionist. Lizzie was content to stay home with her parents and help run the household. He liked talking to strangers and making them beautiful furniture for their homes. She wasn’t comfortable being around people she didn’t know. Even on the days when she had to go to the village to shop for her mamm, she timed it so there would be hardly any crowds in the stores. Lizzie imagined she could be content to stay just as she was. And now, with her vader’s illness, she was needed here more than ever. And when she needed a break, she could go off with her sketch pad and draw.

  Off in the distance she heard the sound of a cow mooing. Lizzie looked out toward the barn. She saw a tall figure holding a lantern high.

  Her heart pounded inside her chest, and then the man turned to look up at the house. Paul. Relief flooded through her as she stood up and went to open the front door. She stepped out onto the porch and waited for him to approach.

  “Good evening, Lizzie.”

  “You gave me quite a fright, you know,” Lizzie scolded him from the top of the porch step.

  “I’m sorry. I wanted to make sure the cows were secure.”

  “That’s very kind of you,” she replied, putting her hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn. “Oh, my. I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to be yawning at you.” A nervous laugh escaped her.

  Still holding the lantern out in one hand, he shoved the other into the side pocket of his dark pants. “Don’t worry. I know you’ve had a very long day. Has there been any word on your vader?”

  “Nee. My mamm is staying at the hospital with him tonight.”

  Through the darkness he studied her, as if trying to decide if it were safe for her to remain here alone.

  Finally he said, “Promise me you will lock the doors.”

  “I will. Danke again for everything you’ve done.”

  “It was no trouble. I’ll be back tomorrow to take a shift with the chores.”

  “Good night, Paul.”

  “Good night, Lizzie.”

  He turned and walked back down the pathway. She watched him until he was nothing more than a shadow in the fading moonlight. Long after Paul had gone, she stared at the barn doors. So many terrible memories of this day lingered inside that building.

  She stepped back inside the house and shut the front door, locking it behind her. Turning around she spotted the bag Paul had given her lying on the side table, where she’d left it this morning. She nibbled on her lower lip, contemplating what was inside. Colors. He’d told her she should add colors to her drawings. It was easy to imagine tufts of green grass and swaths of blue sky coming to life on the paper.

  After going into her bedroom and opening the bottom drawer in the dresser, she took out her sketch pad and pencils. Then she came back into the living room, sat down, turned up the lamp and then flipped the pad open to the last drawing she’d been working on. The bare-bones image of the barn glared up at her. Her heart felt as if it were squeezing inside her chest as she looked at the plain lines she’d drawn a few weeks ago. Lizzie picked up the pencil and held it poised over the page. Maybe Paul was right. She needed to bring color to her work, and to her life, she thought. Perhaps only then could she erase the starkness of the memories that haunted her.

  Sighing, she set the pencil down and closed her sketchbook. It had been a long, long day. Shaking her head, Lizzie mused. Nothing about the past could be changed. Nothing. She needed to stop dwelling on what might have been. Being here with her parents, staying within the close comfort of the farm, this was her life. There was nothing for her beyond the fences.

  It was time she accepted that and put thoughts of love and family out of her mind. For good.

  Chapter Four

  The white sheets snapped in the warm breeze. Lizzie stood on tiptoe, attaching the last sheet to the line that ran from their back door clear up to the top of the old pine tree that stood in the middle of the yard. It had been a long week. Her father had finally come home from the hospital after a five-day stay. They had put something called a stent in to open up the damaged artery. Lizzie had been more than grateful for the community that had come out to support them.

  Paul’s mudder had stepped in to coordinate the kitchen help, making sure that there was plenty of food to feed the helpers. There had been a never-ending supply of Mrs. Burkholder’s potato salad. The refrigerator still held some of those leftovers. As promised, each of the men had sent over sohns to help out with the feedings, in addition to finishing up the plowing and haying her vader had begun the day of his heart attack. As was the Amish way in times of need, her neighbors had been very generous with their time and resources. Lizzie hoped that one day she could repay them in kind.

  As she hung the last sheet on the line, clamping the wooden clothespin into place, Lizzie took a deep breath. Inhaling the sweet summer breeze, laced with the earthy scent of the freshly mowed alfalfa fields and the fully blooming pink rose bushes growing beside the back stoop, made her feel alive and grateful to live in such a beautiful place. Even with the steep and sometimes treacherous hills that surrounded Miller’s Crossing, making it difficult to get around during the winter, Lizzie found comfort by simply being here, in this moment.

  Since the return home of her father and seeing how wan he still looked, she knew it might be days before their life returned to normal. This morning he and her mamm had been driven to a follow-up doctor’s appointment by their neighbor, Helen Meyers. Lizzie didn’t know what they would have done without her. From the very beginning she’d been kind enough to offer up her services for any errands and appointments that her family needed a car for.

  And right now there were a half-dozen men working out in the field and loading the hay wagons with freshly cut silage. The motor of the blower for the silo had been running for two days straight.

  She paused on the porch step. Putting her hand above her forehead to shield the bright sunlight from her eyes, she looked out over the lawn to the closest field. She scanned the horizon, seeing a low wagon loaded with jugs of lemonade, water and red coolers. She turned her attention to the workers, not wanting to admit that she was searching for someone in particular. It wasn’t long before she spotted Paul. He stood tall, his straw hat in one hand, while he wiped a white cloth over his face with the other. He had the sleeves of his blue chambray shirt rolled up above the elbows.

  He turned then and saw her watching him. His mouth tilted up as he gave a slight nod. Embarrassed that she’d been caught gawking, Lizzie scurried into the coolness of the house. Today she was going to be baking up a batch of cookies for the men to enjoy on their afternoon break.

  Once in the kitchen she turned on the oven, setting the temperature to preheat to 350 degrees. Then she began to gather the ingredients for her favorite cookies. She took the flour, white sugar, brown sugar and other dry ingredients from the pantry to the large farm table in the middle of the kitchen. The cookies she’d chosen to make today were called Double-Treat Cookies. The recipe called for peanut butter, salted peanuts and semisweet chocolate chips. She’d made them countless times over the years for gatherings. And never once had there been lefto
vers.

  While searching for the butter, she realized that Paul had been here every day since her vader’s heart attack. It troubled her that he’d neglected his own work to be here. Blowing out a frustrated breath, she kept looking for those sticks of butter in the refrigerator that she knew were there somewhere. Turning around, she walked over to the stove and saw that the butter was sitting on the counter, right where she’d left it yesterday after baking buttermilk biscuits for their supper.

  She picked it up and went back to the refrigerator, opened the door and took two eggs from the wire egg basket. Seeing the mound of eggs reminded her that she still needed to fill the cartons to take down to her roadside stand. She would tend to that after the cookies were baked. There simply weren’t enough hours in the day to get everything done. She set to work sifting together the flour, baking soda and salt in a medium-sized bowl. Then, picking up the hand mixer, she combined the shortening, sugars, eggs and a generous teaspoon of vanilla in a large bowl until everything was light and fluffy. Looking around the table, she realized she’d forgotten to bring over the jar of peanut butter.

  Lizzie had her head stuck in the pantry once again when she heard a knock on the front door. Quickly she grabbed the jar and hurried to see who was there. With the jar still in hand, she looked through the screen door to find Paul standing on the other side. His face was flushed from the heat. There were a few smudges of dirt on his otherwise neatly tucked-in shirt.