“Like getting my vader’s permission. He still wants a son-in-law to take over the farm.” She reached out to touch his face, smiling when she felt the light stubble beneath her fingertips.
This was the first time she’d touched his face. He felt like warmth and light and love.
As he covered her hand with his, she felt the corners of his mouth turn up.
Then he replied to her comment about her vader. “Maybe once Joseph sees how well your paintings are doing and the fact that I can support a family with my furniture store, he’ll come around.”
Lizzie wanted to believe him. She knew that her vader could be very stubborn when it came to what he wanted in his family and for his farm. She also wanted to believe that he would like to see his daughter happy.
Happy. She let the feeling sink in. For the first time in as long as she could remember, Lizzie felt not just happy, but happiness.
Gathering her in his arms, Paul pulled her close. “Oh, Lizzie, I love you so much. But I think we need to be getting back. I don’t want to worry your parents.”
“That wouldn’t be a good thing to do,” she agreed.
When he started to help her up off the bench, she put her hand over his chest, stilling his movement. Beneath her fingers, his heart beat at a strong, steady rate. She closed her eyes, imagining their life together. Maybe they could have one of the smaller farms off in the distance. Perhaps there would be children. Lizzie knew if they were blessed with a son, she would name him after her brother and pray that he wasn’t as impulsive.
“Elizabeth Miller. When we return to your home, I’m going to ask your vader if I may court you. It’s time to make this official.”
Lizzie’s heart swelled.
He kissed her forehead. “Let’s get you home.”
Lizzie wanted the ride home to last forever. She wanted to savor the moment when Paul had told her he loved her for as long as she could. But as soon as he turned the buggy into the driveway, she knew trouble had come their way.
Chapter Fourteen
She saw an unfamiliar car parked in front of the house. The blue SUV looked out of place next to the buggy. There was a man standing in front of the driver’s-side door. Her vader was standing in front of the stranger who towered a good foot over his height. His face was red as a beet and he was pointing at the man, then pointing toward the road. Lizzie had never seen her vader this angry.
Lizzie grabbed hold of Paul’s arm. “Hurry!”
“Oh, no,” he muttered.
“Do you recognize the man?”
“Ja. He’s the one who stopped by the wedding to ask about buying some of my furniture. I can’t imagine what he’s doing at your house.”
The buggy jerked as Paul pulled the mare to a sudden stop. He jumped down, leaving Lizzie to catch up to him.
“Joseph! What’s going on here?” Paul asked, stepping between the two men.
“This man—” her vader pointed a finger at the man “—he came out here asking about some art. I told him more than once we don’t have any art here. I don’t know what he’s carrying on about.”
Lizzie’s heart sank like a rock. This couldn’t be happening. How did this man find out who she was or where she lived? She cast a questioning glance toward Paul, who only shook his head in confusion.
“I went by your shop today, Paul. Your brother was there. After I bought the dining room set, I took a look at the watercolors. My wife loves to collect Amish artwork. The ones you have would be perfect for her collection. Ben, he told me the art was limited editions, and there were no artist markings. But then he looked at the one I was interested in and said he recognized the scene. He pointed me in this direction. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”
“I don’t know what this man is talking about. He’s been describing our fields perfectly. I don’t understand.” Her vader’s voice quieted as he looked to Paul for answers.
She caught the Englischer staring at her, seeing the scar on her face. His glance collided with hers, and Lizzie saw him grimace. Quickly he looked away from her. The old insecurities came rushing back in like an out-of-control tidal wave, leaving her emotions shaking.
She never should have left the farm.
Doing her best to hide the scar, she lowered her head, taking a step forward. Knowing it would be wrong to keep the truth from her vader. She had never wanted him to find out, but the truth always had a way of coming out. She glanced over at Paul, thinking, How could this have happened? He was supposed to protect her. He’d promised her no one would find out. And now Lizzie had to face her family. She had to face the one person who had doubted her for the past decade. The man who would never forgive her for David’s death. She bit back a sob, unable to think clearly.
“I have something to tell you, Vader,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
All her hopes and dreams for a future with Paul came crashing down. But she couldn’t bear to keep this from her vader, even if she’d done it for all the right reasons; he deserved to know what she’d been doing.
“You need to tell us what, Dochder?” Vader asked, as his face turned even redder.
“I’m the one who paints the watercolors Paul sells.”
Silence descended on the group. Tension snapped in the air like lightning. Lizzie kept her eyes downcast. She couldn’t look at her vader. And she didn’t want to see Paul. All the things they’d just confessed to each other...all the love they’d declared...it meant nothing now. If Paul couldn’t protect her, then no one could. Just like the day of the accident. The cold reality hit her with such a jolt, she almost fell to the ground. Summoning what little strength she had left, she raised her eyes to meet her vader’s gaze. She felt foolish thinking that selling her art to help out the family would work. Shame at her deception shook her to her soul.
It broke her heart to see his disappointment in her.
“Go to the house. Now.”
Gulping back the sobs, she turned, doing as she was told. Entering the house, she heard the car door slam shut and then the stranger driving off. She heard her vader order Paul off the property.
But not before she heard Paul’s voice defending her. “She did this to help your family, sir.”
The screen door banged shut behind her as she fell into her mamm’s arms, sobbing uncontrollably.
“There, there, Dochder. It’s going to be all right. I promise.” Her mamm led her upstairs to her bedroom, where she helped Lizzie lie down on the bed.
Mary came in with a cool, wet washcloth and gently placed it over Lizzie’s eyes.
“My dear, sweet Lizzie. Like mamm said, this is all going to be all right. Daed will come around. You’ll see.”
Breathing deeply, Lizzie worked at calming herself. Turning onto her side, she hugged her knees to her chest. The cold compress fell away from her eyes. When her sobs finally quieted, she said, “I sold the artwork to help you and Daed, Mamm.”
“Lizzie, when did you start doing this?” her mamm asked.
“I started painting soon after David died. After Daed’s heart attack, Paul and I came up with this plan to sell my art at his shop. It was the only way I could think of to help bring money into the family. My roadside stand certainly wasn’t going to be enough, and there was no man in my life to marry and bring here to live to help on the farm...” She paused for a moment, gathering her thoughts. Her lower lip quivered as she whispered. “Because of the way I look, there will never be a husband for me to bring home to take David’s place.”
She felt the mattress dip as her sister sat next to her. “Oh, Lizzie! Don’t say such a thing! Those thoughts are not the truth.”
For a long time Lizzie thought her future as an alt maedel was set, and then she’d fallen in love with Paul. Her heart ached. She placed her hand over the spot in her chest where it lay beating. For the briefest of moment
s she’d felt happiness bursting from inside, and now all hope was once again lost.
“I saw you painting earlier today. I guess I assumed Mamm and Daed knew you did this.”
Lizzie shook her head against the pillow. “Nee. I was afraid that they would see my drawings and watercolors as a frivolous pastime. There’s always so much work to be done on the farm and I only drew when I had free time. In the beginning I used the drawings to cope with the accident.”
Pushing herself up off the bed, she pointed to her dresser. “Go open the bottom drawer, Mamm.” While her mamm did that, Lizzie bent over, and reaching underneath her bed, she pulled out a box.
She put the box on the bed between her and Mary, flipping the lid open to reveal dozens of drawings and paintings.
“Oh! Dochder! Your work is so beautiful!” her mamm exclaimed from across the room.
“Look at what you’ve done,” she said, spreading the artwork out in front of her. “I can see why that man wants to buy your work.”
“Mamm, do you see that box on top of the dresser?”
Mamm nodded.
“Open it up.”
Standing, Mamm reached for the box. Carefully lifting the lid, she peered inside. “Lizzie! There’s over one hundred dollars in here!”
“That is from the sale of my first watercolor. Paul...” Fresh tears sprang to her eyes. Swiping her hand across her face, she took in a determined breath. “He sold one of my pieces last week.”
Hanging her head, she added, “I was going to put it with the money from the sale of my jams. I now know thinking I could convince you that I was doing so well with my jams and baked goods was a silly notion. I’m so sorry.”
Mamm came across the room to join Lizzie and Mary on the bed. Putting her arms around both of them, she said, “I love both of you so much. And Lizzie, ja, you were wrong to keep your paintings from us. You shouldn’t have gone against your vader’s wishes. We will have to pray to ask for forgiveness.”
“Yes, Mamm.” Even as she agreed to pray, Lizzie found she couldn’t get the look on her vader’s face out of her head.
She had disappointed and hurt him yet again. Lizzie couldn’t bear the thought that she’d brought more pain and, worst of all, shame to her vader’s home. The man had been through so much over these past years. From now on she would be a good dochder, doing as he asked of her. And if that meant finding a farmer to marry instead of a furniture maker, then so be it.
They all heard the screen door open and snap shut. Mamm quietly left the room. That left Lizzie and Mary alone. Poor Mary looked so tired. She didn’t need to stay to comfort her.
“Mary, you look exhausted. Go lie down. I’ll be fine.” Though she used her best confident-sounding tone, Lizzie knew she’d failed in convincing her sister, because they both knew she was anything but fine.
Gripping her hand, Mary said, “You will get through this. We’ve survived far worse, you know.”
“I do know. But this pain—” Lizzie thumped her chest “—that I’m feeling inside here... I’ve never felt this before.”
“It will get better. I promise.” Mary pulled her into a quick hug and then pushed her growing figure up from the bed. “I’m going to go put my feet up.”
She watched her sister walk slowly from the room, thinking at least one of them had done the right thing. The sound of her parents’ voices floated up the staircase. She tiptoed to her bedroom door and opened it a crack to hear what they were saying.
“She went against my wishes. Not only that, she outright deceived us. I’m not ready to forgive Lizzie yet. I need time to think about what she’s done.”
“Joseph. We both know that Lizzie’s heart was in the right place.”
“I need time to think and to pray on it.”
Closing the door, Lizzie shut out their voices. Leaning her back against the hard wood, she knew what had to be done.
She picked up the paintings, the very ones her mamm had been looking at, off the floor, and placed them back in the bottom drawer. Pushing the drawer closed, she straightened up, catching sight of the watercolor of the barn. The one she’d been working on just a few short hours ago. She touched one corner, rubbing her thumb over the image of the lilac bush. It had been in full bloom the day of the accident. The bush had been cut down a few years ago. It had lived out its life.
Her hands began to tremble. Lizzie pressed them together, willing the motion to stop. Her fingers felt so cold. Lizzie shivered. She had more work to do. Ignoring the gnawing inside her stomach, she left the painting on the dresser, turning her attention to the paints and brushes. She kept her mouth firm, quelling the urge to cry again. She picked up the tubes of watercolor paints, bringing them over to the box on the bed. Looking down at the pieces of paper with all those images—some sketched out and some with colors added—she saw her dreams fading away. She let the tubes of paint tumble from her hands to join the tattered drawings. Numbly she crossed back over to the dresser, picked up the brushes and placed them in the box.
She stood there, looking down at the gift of color that Paul had given her. The side of her face underneath the scar started to ache. She brought her hand up, lightly rubbing the area where the skin puckered. She hadn’t felt pain in the area in a very long time. Not since the day Paul had brought her these gifts. She had no use for any of this. She folded the cardboard flaps together, then shoved the box as far as her arms could reach, underneath the bed.
If Lizzie had learned one thing from all of this mess, it was that she should have followed her instinct and never left her family’s farm. The life she thought she could have with Paul was nothing more than the dream of an innocent heart. Her life, for now, and as it always had been, was right here.
Chapter Fifteen
Paul stood on the Millers’ front porch with a bouquet of wildflowers in his hands. The late summer daisies and the lavender he’d found alongside the road fluttered in the breeze. He hadn’t seen Lizzie in two very long days. He’d wanted to come earlier but knew she and her family needed time. For him, though, time was running out. Over these past months he’d grown to know Lizzie so well. He knew what made her smile and what made her pull away. It was the pulling away part that had him worried.
She’d given him her heart the other day. And then, just like that, it had been taken away. He stood there on the porch with the bees buzzing in the bushes next to it. A pot clanged in the kitchen. He heard female voices. He leaned in, listening for the sound of her voice. Shuffling his feet, he raised his hand and knocked on the door.
Lizzie’s mamm answered the door. “Good afternoon, Paul.”
“Mrs. Miller, I’m not going to waste any time with pleasantries. I need to see your dochder.”
“If it’s Lizzie you’re coming to see, I’m afraid she’s refusing to take any visitors at this time.”
Expecting this to happen, he said, “I understand. I brought these flowers for her.” Extending his hand, he waited for her to receive them.
She took them from him, pausing to smell the fragrant scent. Raising her eyes, she said, “Danke. I’ll be sure to give these to her.”
“Please tell your dochder that I still love her.” Paul walked away, leaving a bit of his heart behind.
Paul returned two days later, determined to see Lizzie. This time he was met at the door by Mary, who informed him that Lizzie had gone for a walk. He was about to climb up into the buggy when he caught sight of her walking around the far side of the barn. She didn’t see him, and Paul used that to his advantage. In a few long strides he stood before her. She came to an abrupt halt in front of him.
Lizzie drew her mouth into a thin line and he thought all might be lost. Then he looked into her eyes and saw her profound sadness. The way he figured it, she wouldn’t be looking that way if she didn’t still love him.
Not wasting any time, he got right to the point of
this visit. “Lizzie, I know you’re angry with me. I’ve come to apologize for what happened the other day. I had no idea that man would come here. I’m sorry he did.”
Lizzie sidestepped around him. He spun around, wasting no time in catching up with her brisk pace.
“Come on, Lizzie. Talk to me.”
Ignoring him, she kept right on moving, trying to outpace him, which of course was a ridiculous thing to try and do, considering she had to take two steps to his one.
“Lizzie. Please.”
Finally she stopped moving. With her back to him, she spoke. “You need to leave.”
He shook his head. “I’m not leaving.”
“You can’t stay where you’re not wanted.”
“I’m not leaving until you listen to what I came here to say.”
He reached out a hand and touched her upper arm, gently turning her to face him. “Lizzie, I love you. And you told me you loved me. I believe, here—” he fisted his free hand, thumping it against his chest, his voice breaking as he continued “—in my heart, that you still do.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her mouth tried to get the words out. Finally she managed to say, “I can’t love you anymore.”
“Lizzie, you can’t mean those words,” he implored her.
“I should never have let you convince me to continue with my watercolors. By doing so, I’ve brought nothing but pain and shame into my parents’ home.” Shaking her head, she said, “I’ve put my paintings away.”
“Nee, Lizzie.” Over and over he shook his head. “Nee. The Lord gave you that talent for a reason.”
Raising her hand, she held it out in front of her as if to push his words away. “Nee. The Lord would never bring this pain on me. No matter how much I loved you, I can’t bear the thought that I broke my parents’ hearts yet again. Please don’t sell any more of my watercolors. I don’t care what you do with them, but don’t sell any more.”
A Love for Lizzie Page 14
