by Linda Byler
The characters and events in this book are the creation of the author, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.
LIZZIE AND EMMA
Copyright © 2018 by Linda Byler
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without the express written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief excerpts in critical reviews or articles. All inquiries should be addressed to Good Books, 307 West 36th Street, 11th Floor, New York, NY 10018.
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10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available on file.
ISBN: 978-1-68099-357-8
eBook ISBN: 978-1-68099-359-2
Cover design by Jenny Zemanek
Printed in the United States of America
To “Emma”
For Me and Roo
Like seeds
borne on spring breezes,
Memories fade,
but love arises,
renewed,
each passing year.
contents
1. The World of Books
2. Cold Winter Days
3. Sled Riding
4. Staying in at Recess
5. Grandpa Glicks Moving Day
6. Hard Times
7. The Auction
8. Summer Days
9. The Accident
10. The Funeral
11. Fishing with Marvin
12. The Miller Relatives Visit
13. Potato Soup
14. A Lesson Learned
15. Washing
16. A Visit to Jefferson County
17. A Wonderful Afternoon
18. The First Day of School
19. Grandma Miller Is Sick
20. Another Trip to Ohio
21. Thinking of Moving
22. Saying Good-bye
23. Settling In
24. Starting Anew
chapter 1
The World of Books
The wooden porch swing creaked in rhythm as Lizzie pushed one foot against the splintered oak porch floor. Some of the paint was peeling off and stuck to the bottom of her foot. It felt funny, so Lizzie stopped the swing and pulled up her foot. She carefully brushed off the flakes of gray paint, pulling her old black sweater around her shoulders more tightly. She shivered. It was actually too cold to be sitting out here on the porch swing, but as long as she stayed here, she didn’t have to help Emma with the supper dishes.
Her feet were cold, and she wished she would have worn socks at least. But she had to sneak away fast while Emma was in the bathroom, or else she would never have been allowed to sit here reading.
Lizzie was eight years old now, so she could read lots of books. There was almost nothing in her life that was more important to her than her books. Every spare moment, she had a book in her hand, biting her lower lip if the story was very exciting.
Lizzie’s sister Emma was nine years old. Mandy was only five, and baby Jason was two. They all lived with Mam and Dat, in a big white house in the middle of a small town in Pennsylvania. Dat’s name was Melvin Glick, and he had a nice big harness shop on the first floor of the white house. There was a sign hanging outside that said “Glick’s Harness and Shoe Shop” with a horse’s head painted on it. Lizzie was so proud of the sign, because Dat had painted it all by himself. Dat could do almost anything and it turned out right, Lizzie always thought.
The part where they actually lived in was above the harness shop. They always had to go up a flight of stairs if they came home from school or were playing in the yard. But Lizzie didn’t mind. She liked to run up the stairs, sometimes missing a step to see if she could take two at a time. She hardly ever could, because she wasn’t very thin.
She was short and round, with brown hair combed back into a “bob” on the back of her head, in the fashion of all little Amish girls. Her eyes were blue and her teeth in front overlapped a bit. Emma said she looked like a rabbit, which hurt her feelings terribly. She told Emma she couldn’t help it if her teeth stuck out in front. Emma said they didn’t really stick out as much as a rabbit’s—they just kind of reminded her of one.
Lizzie thought Emma was prettier than her. She had dark hair, for one thing. It was almost black and it was shiny when it was wet. Her eyes were bright green. Sometimes Emma told Lizzie her eyes looked green, too, if she wore a green dress. So Lizzie figured her eyes would probably turn more green as she got older. If they didn’t, she could always wear a green dress to go to the singing, when she was old enough.
Their kitchen had blue and gray-speckled linoleum on the floor and dark, wooden cabinets. There was a table along one wall, with a wooden bench along the back. A blue oilcloth—which was always sliding off—covered the table. Lizzie wished Mam wouldn’t use that slippery tablecloth at all, but Mam said it saved the wooden tabletop. There was a refrigerator and stove in the kitchen, and a big brown stove that burned coal to keep the kitchen cozy in the winter.
The living room was bigger, with green linoleum and a green sofa and chairs. Dat had given Mam a chair called a platform rocker, with wooden arms that were curved down, like a swan’s neck. If you looked closely, there was a swan’s head carved way on the bottom. That chair was covered with itchy blue upholstery that wasn’t very comfortable if you sat on it too long.
There was a bathroom and three bedrooms along the back of the house. One bedroom was for Dat and Mam, another one for Jason and Mandy, and one that Emma had to share with Lizzie. Emma didn’t want to share her room with Lizzie, because Emma was neat and clean and Lizzie was not.
Emma made her bed carefully, fluffing up the pillows and dashing around the bed three or four times to make sure the pink chenille bedspread hung exactly right in the corners. She put her underwear and nightgowns away very neatly after Mam had folded the clean laundry.
Lizzie couldn’t see any sense in that at all. What was the use? If the pink bedspread hung exactly right all day, they would just make it crooked again that evening. And who would ever know what a drawer looked like on the inside? Lizzie’s drawers held her clothes, mixed with school papers, pens, rocks, feathers, and old candy wrappers. Every once in a while, she found the remains of a half-eaten cheese cracker in her drawer, and that made her feel guilty. She never told Emma, because Emma would tell Mam.
Since Lizzie had learned to read, she had accumulated quite a row of books across the top of their bed. It was a bookcase bed, wooden with two small doors on each side to put their treasures in. Lizzie’s side was so full of different things, she had to slide the little door open very carefully so her stuff did not come tumbling out all at once. Emma’s side had neat little rows of birthday cards, erasers, tablets, and bits of ribbon and pretty things.
But the row of books was stacked neatly—exactly by size—and Lizzie knew which one was missing if Emma got one. Because Lizzie loved her books so much, she took good care of them. There was one book that she especially loved, because it was about doughnuts. There was a boy named Homer who invented a huge machine that made doughnuts so fast that he became very rich. When Lizzie looked at the pictures of the doughnuts with a bite taken out of one, it looked so good.
But today, sitting barefoot on the porch swing, shivering, with her old, fuzzy black sweater around her, she was rea
ding Heidi. It was by far the best book she had ever read. It was so wonderful that Lizzie even forgot she was cold, or that she was supposed to be helping Emma with the dishes.
For one thing, Heidi and her grandfather put big pieces of goat cheese on the end of a long stick and held it over the fireplace. Lizzie thought that must be the most delicious thing in the world—cheese that sizzled over the fire! She had asked Mam if she was allowed to put a chunk of Velveeta cheese on a fork and hold it over the gas stove, but Mam said, “No, of course not!” That really irked Lizzie. What would be wrong with that?
Another thing about the Heidi book that made Lizzie long to be Heidi was her little bed made of sweet-smelling hay up a ladder, under the roof. Lizzie could only imagine how much fun that would be. It wouldn’t be so ordinary. Just opening her bedroom door and getting into the same old bed was not nearly as exciting as climbing up a ladder and being able to look through a little window and see the stars.
Lizzie had never tasted goats’ milk, but when Heidi drank a bowl of sweet, warm milk that came fresh from a goat, Lizzie wished with all her heart she could be Heidi. She could only imagine going up, up, way up to the grassy pastures with Peter and the goats. It must be the most wonderful feeling, to be up so high.
Lizzie tucked her feet back under her skirt and pulled her sweater over her knees. It was cold—so cold, in fact, that she felt a chill go up her spine. She put down her book and wondered how she could sneak into the living room to get the warm blanket that lay across the top of the couch.
She slid off the swing, tucked her Heidi book under her arm, and slipped past the kitchen window, bending her back so no one would see her. She crept quietly down the stairs and walked into Dat’s harness shop.
Dat was whistling at his sewing machine, but stopped and turned around when the bell above the door tinkled. Lizzie had forgotten about the bell.
“What are you doing, Lizzie?” Dat asked, turning back to his sewing.
“Oh, nothing,” Lizzie answered.
“Done with the dishes already?” he asked, putting two pieces of leather together.
“Yes. No. I mean, I think so,” Lizzie stammered.
“Weren’t you helping Mam?” Dat asked, getting ready to sew the two pieces on the machine.
“Well, Emma was, so I thought they might not need me if they didn’t say anything. I waited a while, Dat, really, I did. I actually waited a long time. Nobody said anything, so I, well, I kind of went out on the porch swing with my Heidi book,” Lizzie explained.
Dat stopped, turned his chair, and looked closely at Lizzie. His blue eyes twinkled down at her and he said, “How can you kind of go out on the swing?”
“Well, I wasn’t going to, but …” Lizzie pushed some leather scraps with her toe. She looked up at Dat defiantly. “Dat, did you like to read when you were a boy?”
Dat flung back his head and laughed heartily. “Ach, Lizzie, of course I did. But we had lots of chores to do on the farm, and I never had much time to read. But yes, Lizzie, I kind of went to the haymow or down to the chicken house more than once to read my book. I just kind of went, just like you!”
Lizzie held her book tightly to her chest and laughed happily. “You mean, sometimes you … you kind of sneaked away to read? Just like me?” she asked.
“Oh, yes.” Dat smiled. “I sure did.”
Lizzie held up her Heidi book. “Did you ever read this book, Dat?”
Dat took the book from her, looking carefully at the cover. “Yes, I did, Lizzie. I kind of remember this book. Is it about an old man and a little girl?”
“Yes, it is, Dat!” Lizzie showed him the cover of the book. Dat looked carefully at the picture on the cover and flipped through the book. Lizzie put her elbows on Dat’s knee and peered over his arm to see what he was looking at.
“And Dat, do you know how many goats Peter drove up the mountain? A whole bunch. And they all wore a bell, and they all followed him the whole way up the mountain and he didn’t even lead them with a rope. They just all came when he called. And Dat, another thing. Grandfather—that’s Heidi’s doddy—put goat cheese on the end of a stick and held it over a fire. He toasted it. Mmmm! Do you think that would be good?”
Dat looked down at Lizzie and patted her head. “I think melted cheese would be very good. I really do!”
Lizzie took a deep breath. She smiled straight into Dat’s eyes and loved him with all her heart. Dat was a really good Dat, because he always understood exactly how she felt. She didn’t tell him, though, because she was ashamed to. But she knew that Dat knew that she really loved him.
“Now I better get back to work, Lizzie. Don’t you think you should see if there are still dishes to dry or something?” he asked.
Lizzie sighed. “Yes, I guess.”
“Don’t you like to help Emma with the dishes?” Dat asked.
“Oh, not really. Especially if I have a book.” Lizzie took two pieces of leather and snapped them together. She snapped them again.
“Lizzie!” Emma burst through the shop door. Her face was red and the front of her dress was soaking wet from standing at the sink washing dishes.
“Lizzie, I mean it! Where were you? You are supposed to come help me with the dishes. Or you were. I’m done now. Dat, you have to help me tell Lizzie that she has to help me do the dishes. You know where she was, Dat?”
Lizzie kept snapping the two pieces of leather.
“Stop that!” Emma looked as if she could cry. For some reason, Lizzie wished she would, but then she thought that wasn’t nice, so she put down the two pieces of leather.
“Where were you?” Emma asked, glaring at her.
“On the porch swing,” Lizzie answered.
“Why?”
Lizzie held up her Heidi book.
Emma sighed. “Dat, you have to tell Lizzie she has to stop reading when it’s time to do the dishes.”
Dat put down the halter he was sewing. “Emma, when did you notice Lizzie wasn’t helping?” he asked kindly.
“Well, I didn’t really, because Mam was helping and we were learning a new song. We were singing and I kind of forgot about Lizzie. But it still isn’t fair if she’s allowed to read and I have to do dishes,” Emma said.
“What song did you learn?” Lizzie wished she would have been able to help sing.
“I’m not going to tell you!” Emma was still a bit huffy.
“Emma, you tell Lizzie what you were singing, and she’ll tell you what she was reading. Then tomorrow evening she’ll have to wash the dishes, so she can’t sneak out on the porch swing to read her book,” Dat said.
“Okay,” Emma said.
“I was reading this.” Lizzie held up her book.
“And we sang ‘Footsteps of Jesus’,” Emma said.
“And tomorrow night Lizzie washes the dishes,” Dat said.
“Yep!” said Emma.
Lizzie didn’t say anything. She tucked her Heidi book under her arm and marched past Emma with her head held high. She stomped up the steps, putting her feet down heavily on each step.
It was always the same, Lizzie thought. Things would just never change, because Emma didn’t understand how much Lizzie hated to wash dishes. Emma liked to do it, you could easily tell. She stacked everything in perfect order on the countertop before she started washing. The water was always the right temperature, and she never used too much soap, like Lizzie did. Lizzie just knew by the way Emma acted that washing dishes was something she enjoyed doing. And she was always sweeping the kitchen, picking up toys, putting pillows on the couch, or straightening the tablecloth. Actually, Emma was even more particular in some ways than Mam was.
Emma didn’t know how it felt to feel so deeply sad when it was her turn to wash dishes. It was such a sad, dreary feeling. It simply ruined her good supper. Lizzie hated it with all her might. But she supposed she would like it better when she was Emma’s age. At least she hoped so, because it was too hard to live with all these books to read and having to
wash dishes.
She wondered if Heidi put her piece of melted cheese on bread, or if she put it on a plate. She knew Grandfather wouldn’t make Heidi do dishes—she guaranteed he didn’t.
Lizzie opened the door quietly and sat on the living room couch. She opened her book to the place where she had put her bookmarker and started reading. Soon she was lost in Heidi’s world, with Peter and the goats, high up on mountains filled with wildflowers. She forgot about Emma and the dishes, becoming so engrossed in her book that she didn’t even hear Emma come into the the living room and sit on the platform rocker.
“Lizzie.”
“Hmmm.”
“Are you mad at me?” Emma asked quietly.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Umm-hmm.”
“Lizzie, do you really like to read so much?” Emma asked.
Lizzie sighed. She put down her book, putting her finger between the pages where she was reading.
“Emma, it’s okay. I’m not mad. You just don’t understand how much I hate to wash dishes. It’s awful.”
“I know,” Emma said.
“So I’ll try to do better, if you try and be nicer.” Lizzie smiled at Emma, because she kind of felt sorry for her. She couldn’t help it that she was so different.
“I’m your friend, Lizzie.” Emma smiled back.
“Yep, you are,” said Lizzie.
And she meant it with her whole heart.
chapter 2
Cold Winter Days
Lizzie opened one eye, pulled the covers up over her head, and shivered. She moved over closer to Emma. She had awakened because she was so cold, but Emma felt nice and warm, and Lizzie drifted back to a warm, cozy feeling, almost falling asleep.
She remained perfectly still when the door opened and Mam walked quietly into their room. She was carrying some laundry in a basket, which she set softly on their bed. She tried to be quiet, sliding the drawers open carefully and putting in neat stacks of clean clothes.
Lizzie opened her eyes and peeped at Mam. There was something about someone coming into your room, Lizzie thought. They could be as quiet as they possibly could, but something felt like a whisper when they moved. Mam was being very quiet, but Lizzie watched her hang their dresses carefully in the closet.
