Lizzie Searches for Love Trilogy

by Linda Byler

  Wiping her eyes, Mandy said, “Yes, Lizzie, just hold out the box and say, ‘Here!’  ”

  “You’re a big help!” Lizzie said, pushing Mandy off the bed where she collapsed into another fit of giggles on the rug.

  “Are you really so nervous about giving Stephen that gift?” she asked, sitting up and watching Lizzie incredulously.

  “Of course I am! I never had a boyfriend before,” Lizzie said.

  “Don’t worry about it. You know how Mam says, ‘Everything will work out.’ You and Stephen are so relaxed and comfortable together, I can’t see why you’re making such a big deal out of this.”

  Quite honestly, Lizzie was uncomfortable with formalities, even ordinary everyday little ways of being nice and polite and knowing exactly what to say at the exact right moment. Oh, she could talk to English people, go shopping, pay drivers, and get along all right in the world, but receiving a gift from someone or acknowledging a compliment always made her feel completely at a loss about how to act.

  So when Stephen and Lizzie drove home that Sunday evening after the hymn-singing, she was in a state of panic. Stephen talked easily while she chewed desperately on one fingernail after another, nodding her head or saying, “Mmm-hmm.”

  Suddenly Stephen reached over and took her hand away from her mouth. “Quit that. Either you’re really hungry, or you haven’t clipped your fingernails in a long time.”

  Lizzie laughed but didn’t say anything.

  When they reached her home, Stephen unhitched his horse and went around to the back of the buggy. Lifting the back door, he extracted a box which was so beautifully wrapped that, even in the dim light of the forebay, it looked so expensive it took her breath away. Oh, she wondered, what was inside?

  She looked at Stephen questioningly, but he didn’t notice or pretended not to. Without saying a word, he started toward the house. There was nothing for Lizzie to do but follow him, and since he wasn’t saying anything, she guessed she may as well remain silent as well.

  Stephen said he wasn’t hungry, so Lizzie asked if he wanted to exchange gifts first.

  “Let’s do,” he said.

  Sitting in the living room in the quiet house lit with the soft yellow lamplight, she took the package he handed to her as naturally as breathing, and about as uncomplicated. After putting aside the huge foil bow, she tore off the paper and found a golden glass object wrapped in white tissue paper.

  She was puzzled, unable to think of anything shaped like that. The glass, a translucent golden color, had a bumpy design in it, almost like little bumps with lines between them.

  Unwrapping it carefully, she held it up to the light.

  “A shade! A glass shade!” she exclaimed. Quickly she dug into the tissue paper again and came up with a huge, intricately designed kerosene lamp with a clear glass chimney and a bracket to hold the big, beautiful shade.

  Lizzie was so pleased she couldn’t find words to express herself. John had given Mandy a blue one exactly like this, but Lizzie just figured she would never have one of her own because John came from Lamont, where everyone knew the latest style in gifts and things like that. She had tried hard to admire Mandy’s beautiful lamp, even though she was thinking how perfect a gold one would be in her own room. And now she owned one!

  She didn’t struggle with what to say. She was too delighted about owning that perfect lamp.

  “Thank you, Stephen,” she said sincerely, her whole heart meaning the words. “I just love it.”

  “I’m glad,” he said.

  “Oh, I almost forgot yours!”

  She handed him the large package, watching eagerly as he ripped off the bow without bothering to save it, just like boys always did when they opened gifts, Lizzie thought. He tore open the box and smiled quietly when he saw the golden oak wood of the shaving cabinet.

  “Just what I need,” he said.

  “Really?” Lizzie asked breathlessly.

  “Yes. I do need this to keep small things in my room. It’s beautiful oak wood, too.”

  “You really like it?”

  “Of course I do.”

  Lizzie sighed happily, and Stephen handed her a large white envelope.

  “Your card.”

  “Oh, oh, yes, of course. I put my card for you inside the shaving cabinet.”

  Separately they opened the cards and read the words. Lizzie had agonized for a great length of time at the card shop in town, trying to find a Christmas card with the perfect words.

  Should her card say “To the One I Love,” or should it say “To a Dear Friend”? If she got the first card, it would tell him she loved him, and that would be dumb because she had never told him that. Not yet. If she gave him the one that said “To a Dear Friend,” it sounded like a card she would give to Mary Ann or Rebecca or just any ordinary girlfriend.

  And Stephen was definitely more than that. But to say “I Love You” on a Christmas card was a little too bold, she thought. She had finally settled on a card that said “For a Special Friend,” which really was a nice safe card that didn’t seem as if it was meant for the mailman or the milk-truck driver or Charlie Zimmerman.

  She opened the large white envelope Stephen handed her and stifled a gasp when she saw the words, “To the One I Love at Christmas,” in large beautifully written words across the entire face of the card. The inside had soft paper, almost like tissue paper, folded along both sides, and Stephen had written beautiful words about how his life had changed since they had started dating and how much she meant to him, especially at Christmastime.

  Below it he had written, “I Love You, Stephen.”

  Lizzie remained seated, reading the card a lot longer than was absolutely necessary, simply because she didn’t know what else to do. She was afraid to look at Stephen, and horribly embarrassed at having chosen that simple friendship card. Color crept into her cheeks as she watched him close the card and return it to the envelope with a soft sigh.

  “Stephen, I … I …” she stammered.

  He turned to look at her, and she met his gaze for only a moment before dropping her eyes in bewilderment.

  “It’s okay, Lizzie. It really is. I’m just glad you consider me your special friend.”

  She laughed softly. “Well, if you must know, I spent some agonizing moments at the card shop, trying to figure out which card was appropriate. And now your card says so much more than mine. It’s just that, well, sometimes I think I must be the only person in the whole world who doesn’t really understand … understand … well, what I mean, I mean … what l … what love is.”

  There was a long, uncomfortable silence as Lizzie sat miserably twisting the hem of her apron in both hands. Just say something, Stephen, anything, she thought.

  But he didn’t. He sighed again and stood up abruptly, gathering the wrapping paper that was strewn across the sofa.

  “I’m hungry,” he announced. “Let’s go have our snack.”

  In the kitchen, the mood was dispelled, the atmosphere lighter, and Stephen bantered lightheartedly, as usual, while they ate the Christmas cookies and drank hot peppermint tea. After he left, Lizzie put the mugs in the sink, absentmindedly letting the flow of warm water splash on the back of her hand, her thoughts ebbing and flowing.

  Why could she never find solid ground where Stephen was concerned? It was like walking through a maze or a puzzle where she could never find her way with absolute clarity. Did anyone ever love beyond a doubt, totally and absolutely committed to one other person, their only desire to spend the rest of their days growing old together?

  She shook her head wearily, knowing she was tired from the long holiday so that now was not a real good time to be contemplating anything. As she made her way up the steps to her room, carrying the lamp, she felt old and weary from constantly battling her doubts and fears.

  She wished Emma still lived at home so she could ask her if she ever felt unsure of herself where Joshua was concerned. Well, she was going to get some sleep and not worry ab
out anything till morning. She ran her hand across the beautiful gold lamp, still in awe of actually owning one like Mandy’s, only prettier. It had been a good Christmas, with all the presents from Mam and Dat, the love they had for each other, and, most of all, the fact that the old farm and Cameron County was their home, really and truly.

  Chapter 19

  LIZZIE MARCHED DOWN THE middle aisle of her classroom, her face contorted with disgust. She reached out and grabbed Eli’s arm, yanking him back into his seat. He looked up at her, his face a mixture of mockery and fear.

  “If you don’t stay in your seat, I’m going to have to get out my paddle,” she ground out between clenched teeth. “Sit down and stay there!”

  The classroom became very quiet, the only sounds coming from a few nervous pupils clearing their throats. Lizzie turned on her heel and stomped angrily back to her desk, her hands shaking as she picked up her pen.

  Why were the pupils being so disruptive today? Was it the long, boring winter months that made the children restless, or were they all just trying to drive her as far as she would go? Swallowing her threatening tears, Lizzie tried to calm herself before a feeling of panic completely took control of her senses.

  Normally her teaching duties were a happy time, a time of feeling fulfilled, busy, and as if she was doing a service to the children and their parents, an important part of the community. But lately, everyone and every little incident worked on her nerves, making her feel as if she was inadequate, especially with the children misbehaving, getting low grades, and ignoring their schoolwork.

  She gazed out at the dark scudding clouds which hung low above the small schoolhouse. The bare branches of the trees along the creek whipped back and forth in the stiff winter wind. Shivering, she got up, grabbed the coal stoker, poked at the red-hot coals inside the black stove, and then adjusted the draft. Stifling a yawn as she called on the fourth-grade English class, she crossed her arms in front of her, keeping her back to the stove.

  Hannah raised her hand impetuously, shaking it over and over trying to get Lizzie’s attention.

  “Hannah?” Lizzie asked, raising her eyebrows.

  “I’m not finished.”

  Elam raised his hand, a defiant look in his black eyes.

  “Elam?”

  “I’m not done either.”

  Lizzie sighed. She longed to go home to her room, bury herself in the warmth of her comforters, and sleep. Everything was overwhelming her until there was nothing left but a great weariness. But she had to go on and make an effort to complete this long, dark, and dreary day.

  Mentally shaking herself, she took a deep breath.

  “Why were you unable to finish?” she asked evenly. In response, two pairs of shoulders lifted and dropped as two pairs of eyes dared her to do something about it. She knew that today was not a good time to undertake an important discipline measure because of how tired and discouraged she was, so she steadied herself and smiled.

  “Well, please try harder to complete today’s lesson,” she said.

  The afternoon finally came to a close, and when Lizzie locked the schoolhouse door and turned to climb into the waiting van, she knew this had been one of the longest days she had ever lived, especially since she had begun teaching school.

  At home she told Mam she didn’t want any supper and went straight to her room. Pulling pins from her cape and apron while kicking off her shoes, she dropped into bed, yanking the heavy down comforter completely over her head, and fell into a deep, blissful sleep. She didn’t hear the door opening, or see Mandy stick her head through the doorway, or hear the door close carefully behind her as she went back down the stairs.

  When she woke up, the light was fading in the west, leaving her room in gray twilight. Blinking, she sat up, bewildered. She knew instinctively that it wasn’t morning, and yet it didn’t feel like it was evening, either. She grabbed her alarm clock and saw it was only five-thirty. Then she remembered how tired she had been when she climbed into bed.

  Slowly she threw back the covers, put her feet on the floor, and sat, her back rounded and her head hanging in dejection. Immediately worries and fears surrounded her, banging incessantly like a child playing with the lids of its Mam’s pots and pans.

  What if … what if … what if I’m dating Stephen and I don’t even like him one bit? What if I mess everything up my whole life and just continue to go on this way, not knowing if I’m truly in love and if he is the right one for me?

  All winter she had harbored these doubts. Christmas had heightened her uncertainty again when they exchanged cards and he had been so sure on his card, professing his true love, and she stumbled and hedged, unable to really commit herself, or at least unsure about what to say. Why was it so complicated? It wasn’t that she didn’t like Stephen, and she certainly did not like, or long for, any other young man. Something—she didn’t know what—was not right.

  She had tried opening the subject with Mandy, but her sister had been very little help. Oh, yes, she had said she went through a time of being tempted to date others, but those feelings weren’t from God. It was only the devil trying to make you miserable, she said, and you had to deal with it. Mandy was wise, but she could be a bit lofty at times, making Lizzie feel as if she was seven years old.

  Raising her head, Lizzie rubbed the small of her back. There was no one to talk to. Mam wouldn’t give her any choice at all, because her verdict about doubts was exactly the same as Mandy’s. They were all from the devil. Well, how much power did that guy have, she wondered to herself. Surely it was not only he who was swirling her thoughts like some endless electric blender whirring everything together until nothing made any sense. Besides, she couldn’t think of the devil too much, knowing how badly he scared her.

  Oh, God, she groaned as her head sank into her hands. Guide me. Tell me what to do.

  That weekend Lizzie was in such a state of despair that she would not have minded if Stephen hadn’t picked her up at all for their date.

  Everything he said and did irked her, setting her teeth on edge. No, she really did not believe that this relationship could go on, and the more she dwelled on this, the more evident it became. Why, of course it couldn’t. She definitely felt better, almost lighthearted and less dejected, when she thought of ending her relationship with Stephen.

  So as they drove in her drive that Sunday evening, she was calm and sure. As he pulled into the forebay, she laid a hand on his arm to stop him from unhitching his horse.

  He turned to look at her.

  “Stephen,” she said quietly, calmly.

  “Hmmm?”

  “There’s no need for you to come in tonight, because … because … well, I would like to end our friendship this evening.”

  “You what?” Stephen was incredulous, disbelieving.

  “I don’t think we should continue seeing each other. Really, I’m not happy during the week. I’m depressed and grouchy at school, and I think it’s because I’m not happy with you.”

  There was a long silence before Stephen sighed, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Well, there’s not much for me to say then, is there?” he said quietly.

  “No.”

  “It won’t help for me to beg, huh?”

  “No.”

  “You feel sure this is what you want?”

  “Yes.”

  They sat together in silence, their shoulders touching, the lights of the buggy shining on the forebay wall. The horse nodded his head, wanting Stephen to unhook the rein that held his head up.

  The chains in the workhorses’ stalls rattled as they lifted their heads, and a calf bawled in the distance.

  “Well, Lizzie, it’s hard for me to let you go, but I know it’ll only make it worse if I don’t give up. So …” he swallowed hard, “there’s nothing I can do. You know my feelings will never change, but if yours ever do, don’t hesitate to let me know.”

  Calmly, Lizzie threw back the buggy blanket, slid back the door, and climbed out. She could
barely stand and look at him, and he averted his gaze completely.

  “Good-bye,” she whispered.

  There was no answer, so she turned away and walked slowly across the gravel drive. She had done it. She had ended this troubling thing, and no one, not even Mam, had advised her or told her what to do. She felt independent, a bit proud of herself for having conquered her worst enemy, her doubts about Stephen.

  She still felt peaceful and unperturbed as she climbed into bed, thanked God for having led her to this victory, and fell asleep a few minutes after her head touched the pillow.

  Her alarm clock jangled without mercy that morning, jarring her senses into wakefulness. She jabbed viciously at the shut-off button and groaned, rolled over, and then stuck her head under the comforter. Her room was freezing cold, as usual, and she just couldn’t quite face the chilly air.

  Then it hit her. Like the force of a sledgehammer, the thought slammed into her. Stephen was no longer her special friend. She had ended it. Dry, sour-tasting panic rose in her throat, causing her to sit up abruptly, her eyes wide open. What have I done, her mind screamed. How does he feel this morning? Will he even go to work? Does his family know? What will Rebecca say?

  She had the distinct feeling that Stephen was whirling around in outer space, and she was one little black dot a million miles below on a round blue earth, and there was absolutely no way possible to ever see him again. Her whole being recoiled at the thought of Stephen disappearing forever. I won’t be his girlfriend. Or his wife. Not ever.

  A deep, horrible, rasping sound tore from her throat as she flung herself back on her pillow. No. No. This was all wrong. Horribly, terribly, 100 percent all wrong. If she thought she had felt despair before, she had never experienced remorse so real that it cut like the sharpest knife.

  She had to do something, go tell someone. Somehow, she had to let Stephen know right this minute, no, this day. Surely she could pull herself together long enough to go to school. Grabbing her bathrobe and a handful of Kleenex, she hurried down the stairs, honking her nose noisily before entering the kitchen.