by Linda Byler
The girls mostly used the runner sleds and the boys piled on the long wooden toboggan, determined to see how many could fit on at one time and how fast they would go.
Lizzie wasn’t normally afraid of sledding, but watching the toboggan streak past her at such an alarming speed terrified her. The boys whizzed by so fast in one long dark blur, often losing one or two riders before they slowed at the bottom of the hill.
Later in the evening, the boys started a roaring bonfire in a small patch of trees, protected from the steady east wind and blowing snowflakes. One by one, the girls tired of sledding and sat by the fire to warm themselves.
Lizzie hadn’t realized that she and Mandy were the only remaining girls sledding until John Zook and Paul Esh asked them to try a toboggan ride.
Mandy quickly accepted, which really irked Lizzie. She’s probably as scared as I am, but if John asks her to go, she’ll go, Lizzie thought. She’d try to fly off a house roof if he asked her to jump.
“Come on, Lizzie!” Mandy shouted.
“I’m not going.”
“Come on!”
“No!”
“We won’t go as fast if you girls go,” Paul assured them. He was new to Cameron County, but he was easy to get along with and really funny. He had quickly become one of Lizzie’s good friends, and she often confided in him.
Lizzie looked at Paul skeptically. “I don’t know about you.”
“We’ll be careful. Come on, pile on. Ladies before gentlemen!” Paul laughed.
“How many are going?”
“Just you and Mandy, me and John.”
“I’ll push you,” Stephen offered, as he walked up to join them.
Her heart hammering in her chest, Lizzie seated herself behind Mandy. The boys piled on the back, telling the sisters to keep their feet on the sled. When the boys yelled “right” or “left,” the girls should lean in that direction in order to steer the toboggan. Stephen showed Lizzie how to hang on to the rope attached along each side of the sled. She bit her lip, sniffed, blinked the snowflakes from her eyes, and tried to stay calm.
Mandy was eagerly leaning forward. “What are we waiting on? Let’s go!”
There were a few thudding sounds as Stephen pushed on Paul’s shoulders before he leaped on the back. Then the only sensation was black, whirling, blinding speed. It was the most helplessly, horrifying feeling Lizzie had ever experienced. She could see nothing at all, except sometimes Mandy’s white-clad head bobbing up in front of her. The wind whistled so fast it was almost like a huge, sucking void that took her breath away.
When she could no longer bear the feeling of falling into a dark, bottomless hole, she screamed. She continued to yell at the top of her lungs, afraid to keep going and afraid to roll off.
She sincerely hoped they would each remain in one piece when they came to the bottom of this gigantic, seemingly endless hill. When her mouth became too dry from screaming, she just clamped it shut and hated Mandy with all her might. It was all her fault. She was just showing off for John. Just when Lizzie thought she would faint from pure terror, the swishing sound slowed to a whisper and they swooshed to a stop.
Mandy was laughing helplessly. “Hooo-boy!” she said, scrambling to her feet and wiping furiously at her snow-encrusted hair and scarf. “Let’s do it again!”
John walked over to her side, put a hand on her shoulder, and wiped snow off her scarf. Even in the faint lantern light, Lizzie could see the sincere admiration in his eyes as he bent his head and said, “You really liked that, didn’t you?”
“Of course!” Mandy said gleefully, looking up at him, her green eyes shining. So John just kept his hand on her shoulder as they began walking back up the hill. Oh, great! Lizzie thought, seething. How cute. She just turns 16, and already they’re this charming little couple who have eyes only for each other.
She was angry. Mostly angry at Mandy for making her go along, but also angry at herself for feeling so horribly jealous of her own sister. She loved Mandy, so why did she struggle with this anger toward her now? John Zook. No, she knew she had no chance with him, but … the truth confronted her nevertheless, raising its big taunting head, blotting out any happy thoughts of the future.
She tried hard to accept the fact that John had no interest in her, even praying earnestly that God would not let these ugly feelings take control of her. But when Lizzie was with John and Mandy and confronted with their evident admiration of each other, it was more than she could handle. Especially when Mandy acted so sporty. Lizzie guaranteed that Mandy had been just as scared as she, but, oh, no, she would never admit it.
Lizzie yanked off her head scarf, shaking the snow from it, wiping her face with her mittens as she watched the retreating figures. She dusted off the front of her coat, stomped her feet to shake off the snow, and started trudging up the long, winding trail.
Suddenly, there was someone beside her. She turned, alarmed, to find Stephen in step with her.
Lizzie laughed ruefully. “I declare, you have the most annoying habit of sneaking up on someone!”
“I didn’t sneak up on you.”
“Yes, you did.”
He didn’t answer and they walked side by side up the slippery slope. Lizzie’s breath came in short, panting gasps until she gave up and stopped.
“Whew! This really tires a person, doesn’t it?”
“Not like the mountain.”
Lizzie peered through the darkness at Stephen’s face. He was very nice-looking, she realized again.
He stepped closer to Lizzie and said, “Lizzie, you should go hiking with me sometime. I love to go tramping around in the mountain. You can always see deer or grouse, squirrels, or just whatever.”
Lizzie was quite taken aback. She looked up at Stephen and blinked rapidly. Was he serious? Did he mean that they, just the two of them, should go hiking together, like a real date sort of thing? Or did he mean just in the way he would ask Paul or John to go with him, as a good buddy type of thing? Stephen was just mysteriously different. That’s all there was to it.
“You mean in the wintertime?” Lizzie asked, laughing.
“No, some time when it gets warmer.”
He paused before continuing, “’Course, I guess we can’t go this year anymore. I’m going to another county in northern Pennsylvania to work for my uncle who just moved there a few months ago.”
“You mean to live there? You’ll stay there on the weekends, too?” Lizzie asked, incredulous. She couldn’t imagine weekends without Stephen.
“Yeah.”
There was silence as Lizzie scuffed the toe of her boot into the snow, as the soft snowflakes fell around them in the velvety night. Suddenly she raised her head and asked, “Why?”
“Why do you care if I stay there or not?” Stephen asked shortly.
“I … I don’t. I mean … I do … I mean, I’m going to miss you. It won’t be the same without you. But …” Lizzie shrugged helplessly.
Suddenly, Stephen moved close to her, and she felt the weight of both of his hands on her shoulders. Her breathing stopped, fading away to nothing, her heart hammering even as she felt as if all the oxygen was knocked out of her. She could not look up so she stood quietly, her breath coming in small jagged whispers.
“Lizzie, I’m going away because of you.”
She lifted her head in one quick fluid movement. His eyes shone with a light of love or of pain … She wasn’t sure which, but she quickly bent her head against his gaze, wanting to defend herself against … against what? She didn’t know. She just knew she couldn’t go on looking into his blue eyes.
“You know how it is,” Stephen continued. “I’ve always, well, admired you, or in plain words, wanted you for my serious girlfriend. Surely you can tell a little bit how I feel. And there’s just never any sign of you returning that feeling. It’s always someone else. You care more about every other young man than you do about me. So … I figure the best thing for me to do is leave for awhile and try to sort out my
feelings.”
Lizzie was speechless. How was she supposed to know how he felt? Okay, so Uncle Marvin had told her. But what did Uncle Marvin really know? Why hadn’t Stephen told her, really told her, before now? Lizzie glanced around, wishing that Mandy was nearby. What was she supposed to do?
“I suppose I’m hoping you’ll miss me, I guess, which is kind of dumb. But maybe you’ll be able to … well, maybe someday you’ll feel differently about me.”
“But … but …” Lizzie was searching for the appropriate words. All in one rush she knew she didn’t want him to go, but she also knew if he stayed she was not ready to commit herself to him before … Before what? She wasn’t sure. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she said, “Stephen, I do like you. You are a good friend, and I don’t want you to go away if you don’t want to.”
“I do. I want to go,” Stephen said.
That left her more confused than ever. He wanted to go. What if he found a nice girl in northern Pennsylvania and stayed there forever?
“Because you’ll find another girl and marry her?” Lizzie asked.
Stephen made a derisive sound, stepped back, and started on up the hill. “As if you’d care,” he flung back over his shoulder.
“Stephen!” Lizzie called. “Wait.”
He stopped. She could talk better if she wasn’t so close, especially if she could talk to the back of his head.
“Stephen, listen. Just give me some time. I need a few months to think and to sort out my feelings. Sometimes I feel confused, and I don’t always understand myself. My … my mom says I run away from God’s will, whatever that means.”
Stephen turned, and taking both her mittened hands in his, he said, “Did she? Did your mom really say that?”
“Yes,” Lizzie said, puzzled that it should mean so much to him.
“Well, I’ll go now, Lizzie. I’m leaving in a few days. Be good, and don’t forget about me.”
And he was gone. Just as if the night and the swirling snow had swallowed him whole, he was suddenly no longer there. Lizzie searched the area where he had stood a moment before, but he had vanished into the blowing snow, leaving her standing by herself on the side of the hill, as alone and dejected as she could ever remember feeling. She lifted her face to the sky as her heart cried out to God for guidance. Just show me the way, she prayed. You have to make it very clear, because I don’t understand very much about how you make your will known.
But she knew, more plainly than ever, that her heart yearned for God to direct her often shaking footsteps.
Chapter 7
A TOUCH OF SPRING sunshine flooded the Glick family’s kitchen in a soft yellow glow. The stainless steel teakettle on the stove top sparkled and shone as the light bounced off the shining windowpane.
It was Saturday morning, when breakfast was always later and much more relaxed than on weekdays, because no one had to hurry off to their jobs or to school. Dat and Mam were contentedly sipping their steaming mugs of morning coffee as they laughed at the twins. KatieAnn and Susan were dark-haired and very pretty. Dat said Jason was turning into a tall young man, his blue-gray eyes usually crinkling into an expression of humor. His curly hair was his most attractive feature as he grew older, something which never ceased to amaze Lizzie, having endured all that worrying about his looks as a little girl. She had been so certain that Jason would never know what to do with his head full of curls springing in every direction.
Lizzie sighed happily as she spread strawberry jam on a crisp piece of toast. Mandy and Emma were already doing the dishes, and when Lizzie finished eating, they started deciding whose job it was to do the Saturday cleaning, who would do laundry, and who would tackle the lawn-mowing.
“Mow grass!” Lizzie yelled.
“Do laundry!” Emma shouted, imitating Lizzie.
“I’m not doing all the Saturday cleaning by myself,” Mandy complained.
Lizzie looped one arm around Mandy’s shoulders.
“I’ll help you do the cleaning, and then maybe we can find some grass that’s long enough to mow,” she said.
Lizzie was returning from the back porch with the dust mop when the kitchen door opened and Dat came in, sitting down at the table, his eyes open wider than usual.
“Annie, I can’t figure this out,” he said, his voice rising. “It seems as if there is a fog over my eyes that just won’t lift.”
“What could it be?” Mam asked, turning to look at Dat with an expression of concern. “Do you have a headache? Are you sure you didn’t get some sawdust or something in one of your eyes?”
Dat shook his head.
“Why don’t you take off your shoes and go lie down for awhile? Maybe you overworked yesterday,” Mam suggested.
Dat turned to go into the living room to rest on the sofa. Lizzie raised her eyebrows at Mam, who raised her shoulders in a gesture of “I don’t know.”
Turning, Lizzie went upstairs to join Mandy and Emma in cleaning the bedrooms. It was highly unusual for Dat to be in the house midmorning like this. Fear swirled around in her mind like an ugly gray vacuum, threatening to force her into its grip. What if there was something seriously wrong with Dat? What if he was going blind? Some people did. How would Mam manage the farm if Dat was no longer able to work? The vacuum of fear whirred noisily in her head until she found Emma plumping the pillows of her bed.
“What?” Emma turned, straightening her back, seeing the expression on Lizzie’s face.
“Emma, Dat came in and said he has a fog in front of his eyes. He hasn’t been able to see normally all morning. Suppose he’s going blind?” Lizzie said, her voice squeaking with fear.
“Lizzie, now stop it. There you go again. Thinking the absolute worst. He probably just has a headache.”
Emma returned to her bed-making, telling Lizzie to hurry up and get started. It was already late enough, and after all, this was Saturday, and Saturday evening came right after that, and Joshua was coming to pick her up at seven o’clock.
Lizzie turned on her heel, biting her tongue to keep the hot, angry words inside. No use letting it show, she thought. I do it often enough.
Her pride arranged properly, she hurried into her own room and started taking up rugs, yanking open the window to shake them outside. Her hand slipped and she tore a fingernail on the sharp, wooden window frame. The window crashed down on the rug as Lizzie hopped around her room, pinching the injured finger with the opposite hand.
“What in the world is going on?” Mandy asked as she stood in the doorway, her eyes wide.
“Oh, don’t worry about it!” Lizzie yelled hysterically. “What do you care? I always make everything worse than it is. So who cares if Dat has a brain tumor or he’s going blind? As long as the cleaning gets done and the yard looks nice!”
Great big tears of pain and frustration rolled down Lizzie’s face as she continued hurling senseless accusations at her sister. Mandy stood in the doorway, her wide green eyes filled with alarm as she stared open-mouthed at Lizzie.
“Wha … what?” she finally managed. “Lizzie, what has gotten into you? You act like … like you’re not even normal.”
Lizzie sat down hard on the floor, still holding the injured finger. Sighing, she grabbed a few Kleenexes from the nightstand, honked loudly into them, and dried her tears. She pushed back a few strands of her brown hair, adjusted her covering, and straightened her black bib apron. Mandy sat down quietly, watching as Lizzie regained her composure. She knew it was better to remain quiet for awhile once Lizzie was in one of these moods.
“All right,” Lizzie said finally. “Sorry.”
Mandy still said nothing.
“I said, sorry,” Lizzie repeated, glancing at Mandy quickly before her eyes fell at Mandy’s pitying gaze.
“I know.”
“Well, say something.”
“What?”
“I don’t know.”
Lizzie took a deep breath before the words began tumbling out miserably. She was very, ver
y worried about Dat. She had a feeling deep down inside that it was something more than just a fog in front of his eyes. And she couldn’t stop thinking about what Marvin had said about Stephen and his feelings for her.
“Lizzie, I could just shake you,” Mandy said sharply. “Don’t cross the bridge before you get to it about Dat. Nobody knows, and it might not even be serious. What crawled over you?”
That was their favorite question to ask when they wanted to know what was wrong, or what had suddenly made the other person act in a strange way.
Lizzie jumped up and started sweeping furiously. “Come on, Mandy. We’ll never get done at the rate we’re going.”
So Mandy closed her mouth, turned and left, and resumed cleaning her own room. Lizzie swept and dusted her room, carefully arranging her pretty things a bit differently. She stood back to survey a basket of dried flowers she had placed in another area and smiled with satisfaction. That was better. Turning, she placed a candle on the opposite end of her dresser, only to frown at the emptiness beside it. She started whistling under her breath as she found a small wooden dish to place beside the candle, which really evened things out.
Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she leaned forward to check her complexion. The dreaded blemishes were no longer as evident as she became older, so that was comforting. Same brown hair, plain, mousy, homely old brown, same as 75 percent of the population, she thought. Blue-gray eyes that sometimes turned green when she wore a dark, forest-green dress, which still made no sense. Same old rabbit teeth, but very white and not too bad when she smiled, she thought. She tried smiling deeply to watch for dimples, but even if she had some, they weren’t natural, quirky, cute dimples, instead more like an extra line in her cheeks.
