Lizzie and Emma

by Linda Byler

  Mam wasn’t very big; she was just right. She felt soft and fluffy when she held Lizzie close, and always smelled like Pond’s talcum powder. Her hair was dark, but it was never smoothed down flat like the other women in church had their hair, because, originally, Mam came from Ohio where the women combed their hair loosely over the top of their heads and wore different coverings. Here in Pennsylvania their hair was parted in the middle and smoothed down sleekly with water. That was considered neater, but Mam always combed her hair back a bit more loosely and did not wet it down like the other women did. She always looked more “shtruvlich” than the others, but Lizzie thought she looked nice exactly the way she was, because she was her Mam.

  Mam paused and looked toward their bed. Lizzie quickly closed her eyes tightly, but Mam smiled to herself and walked over, gently lifting one of Lizzie’s eyelids. “Peep!” she said.

  “Mam!” Lizzie hit at her mother with both arms. “I was sleeping!”

  Mam grabbed hold of Lizzie’s arms and held them tightly. “No, you weren’t!” she said with a laugh.

  “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said to Emma, as Emma sat up, stretching and yawning.

  “Brrrr! It’s terribly cold in here,” Emma said crossly. “Give me the covers, Lizzie.”

  Mam sat up. “Yes, it certainly is a cold morning. You probably won’t have to go to school, because it snowed all night and the temperature is only a little bit above zero degrees. Dat said he thinks the wind is picking up, too. But just in case you do go to school, you had better get up and get dressed, because Uncle James might take you if there is any school,” Mam said.

  Emma stuck her face out from beneath the heavy comforter. Her eyebrows were drawn together, and she did not look happy at all. “I guarantee we don’t have school, Mam. It’s too cold,” she growled.

  Mam was standing at the window, looking out to the street and the neighboring houses. “Look, girls,” she said. “The snow even blew in between the cracks in this old window. You have a whole layer of snow drifted on your windowsill here.”

  “Where?” Lizzie hopped out of bed in her bare feet.

  Sure enough, there was a layer of pure white snow that had blown in from the snowstorm during the night. Lizzie stuck her finger in it, and licked off the snow that stuck to it.

  “Ooooh, that’s cold! This floor is freezing!” And Lizzie took two flying leaps back into bed. She yanked hard on the comforter, and Emma yelled, “Stop that! It’s cold!”

  Mam remained standing at the window, her arms crossed tightly around herself because she was cold. She just stood there quietly, watching the snow swirling around the house. Lizzie watched her. Sometimes she pitied Mam, although she didn’t know why. Mam’s gray everyday apron was frayed at the corner and there was a rip along one of the pleats. Her bedroom slippers were torn along the top and her black-stockinged toe stuck out above the flowered material of her slippers. She looked tired and a bit sad this morning, Lizzie thought.

  She remembered hearing Mam and Dat talking late last evening. Emma had been sleeping for awhile, but Dat’s voice would rise sharply at times, followed by Mam’s soft voice, talking faster than usual. Lizzie knew something was wrong, but she didn’t know what. If she asked Mam why Dat was in the harness shop so late, she just said he was busy. Sometimes when Mam rocked Jason and sang softly, her nose turned red and tears ran down her cheeks. She would not go on singing—she just sat there rocking until she had her emotions under control.

  This worried Lizzie immensely. Mam was sad and Dat stayed in the harness shop. It made Lizzie feel like something really terrible was going to happen very soon. She was just about certain the end of the world was coming any day now.

  Or there was going to be a kidnapper on the way to school. She could just picture it. They would be walking along in the snow and a really horrible-looking, rusty old car would stop. The bearded man would grab them by their scarves and drag them into the ugly car. That was partly why Lizzie tucked her scarf inside her coat. It would be much harder for a man to grab her by her bonnet strings, because they were tucked tightly under her double chin. Emma said Lizzie was dumb, tucking her scarf in, but Lizzie still thought it was the smart thing to do.

  “Well,” Mam sighed, “no use wishing for something I can’t have. It would be nice to have new windows to help keep this house warmer, though.”

  “Now come, girls. Time to get up now,” she said, letting herself out through their bedroom door.

  “Come on,” Emma said, resigning herself to her fate. She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. She raised her arms above her head, shivered, and hopped right back in, pulling the comforter over her head until she disappeared. “It’s too cold,” came her muffled voice.

  Lizzie giggled. It certainly was cold, she thought, but they had to get up and go to school, unless the snowplow didn’t go at all. So she ran over to the closet, grabbed her green dress from the hanger, and in one quick movement, she shed her nightgown and shivered into her dress.

  “The floor is freezing cold, Emma. Come on, you have to get out sometime,” Lizzie said.

  “I will. Just go on,” came the muffled reply.

  Lizzie giggled again and yanked the door open, dashing across the living room into the warm kitchen, where she held out her hands to the warmth of the big brown coal stove.

  Dat sat at the table holding Jason. He was bouncing him up and down on one knee, and Jason’s curls were flopping up and down at an alarming rate. Dat stopped when he saw Lizzie.

  “Good morning, Lizzie. Is your bedroom cold?” He smiled.

  “There’s snow on the windowsill and it isn’t melting yet,” Lizzie told him.

  “Really?” Dat asked.

  “Mmm-hmm,” Lizzie said, as she sat down on the floor in front of the coal stove to put on her woolen black tights. Emma came running into the kitchen, her hair sticking out in every direction. The buttons on her dress were not closed, and she held her socks in one hand.

  “It is not even funny how cold our bedroom is,” she said, shivering beside Lizzie.

  “Is it that cold in there, Annie?” Dat asked, setting Jason in his high chair.

  “It’s plenty cold. I don’t see how the girls could keep warm,” Mam said wryly.

  “Oh, that doesn’t hurt them. I remember very well in the old brick farmhouse at home, it used to be so cold that water in a glass froze on the dresser. You just have to add lots of heavy comforters, that’s all,” Dat said.

  Mam turned to the stove, expertly flipping pancakes. She said something quietly, which sounded a lot like “Humph,” but Lizzie wasn’t sure. She just knew that Mam’s mouth was in a straight, stiff line, and she said almost nothing all through breakfast. Dat was teasing Jason, but Mam told him to stop, because he wouldn’t eat. Dat sighed and ate his breakfast silently.

  It was a good breakfast, as usual, because everything Mam made was delicious. They had warm golden pancakes that were done to perfection, slathered with soft yellow butter, and syrup poured on top of the butter. Besides the pancakes, Mam served a platter of fried eggs that had a nice amount of soft yellow “dippy.” Toast was done in the broiler of the gas stove, which turned it crispy and buttery at the same time. They almost never had bacon or sausage, because it was too expensive to buy from the meat man. But that was alright with Lizzie—she liked “dippy” eggs and pancakes better anyway.

  But when Dat and Mam were not happy, like this morning, the pancakes stuck in Lizzie’s throat. She cast furtive glances at Mam, wishing she would smile at Dat so her pancake would taste better. She dipped a piece of toast halfheartedly into her “dippy” egg, but she really didn’t feel much like eating.

  Jason was trying to get out of his high chair. Mam smacked him hard on his hands, and Jason screamed and cried. Dat looked at Mam, but said nothing.

  Mandy said, “Jason, you have to stay sitting if Mam is grouchy!” Mandy was only five years old, with straight brown hair and huge green eyes. She didn’t go
to school with Emma and Lizzie, but she would in another year. Sometimes, if Emma was working too much or acted too bossy, Lizzie had more fun playing with Mandy, even if they only played childish games.

  “There goes the snowplow, girls!” Dat said brightly, trying to set a better tone to their silent breakfast table.

  “Does that mean we have to go to school?” Emma asked.

  “Oh, yes, I would say so,” Dat replied.

  “Then we’d better get moving,” Mam said sharply, getting up and starting to pack their lunchboxes.

  They were all ready to go, their warm coats and sweaters buttoned, bonnets tied securely, and their bright red mittens pulled snugly around their fingers when Uncle James pulled up beside the house.

  “Bye! Bye!” yelled Emma and Lizzie, as they opened the door and raced down the stairs. It was so cold when they stepped outside that it took their breath away. The snow was blowing in every direction and stung their faces. Lizzie squinted against the bright light and held a mittened hand over her mouth.

  “Good morning, girls!” Uncle James said. He held their lunches as they struggled to place their feet carefully on the high iron step. They tumbled into the buggy, clambered over the front seat, and squeezed in beside Lavina Lapp, who was a sister to Uncle James.

  “Hi!” Lavina smiled. “It’s really cold!”

  “It sure is,” Emma said.

  “Yep!” Lizzie agreed.

  Uncle James settled himself in the front seat, clucked to the horse, and they were off. He was driving the old market wagon that swayed and lurched, rattling terribly if the horse went fast at all. A market wagon was a bit heavier than a regular buggy, and it rattled more because you could lift up the whole back to set heavy things inside. Lizzie just loved to go home from school in Uncle James’s market wagon when it rained.

  Once, Uncle James’s sister Nancy had brought them home in the pouring rain, and her little horse ran as fast as he could. Nancy couldn’t hold him back too well, and the old market wagon rattled and swayed so badly, it felt as if the wheels weren’t even round. They had giggled and laughed until the tears ran down their faces, because the little horse was so funny.

  But Uncle James wasn’t driving that little horse this morning. He was driving his big black one, and he was not going fast because he had to be very careful because of the blowing snow.

  “I can hardly see a thing,” he muttered. “Guess I’ll have to open my window, girls, so I can see where I’m going.”

  Lizzie peeped worriedly over the back seat. She swallowed hard. It looked so dangerous, because sometimes there was only a solid wall of whirling whiteness. When the wind let up a tiny bit, she could see the shape of trees or houses. The snow swirled into the buggy, and Lizzie shivered, partly with fear.

  “Maybe we should have stayed at home,” she offered in a very small voice.

  “We’ll be alright,” Uncle James assured her.

  But Lizzie felt a tight knot of fear in her stomach. She just had a feeling something was going to happen today, mostly because Mam and Dat weren’t happy. It was too cold for kidnappers, and Lizzie didn’t think the end of the world would come in a snowstorm, but then, you never knew. Her mittened hand clutched the back of the seat tightly and her eyes opened wider in alarm.

  “Hang on—here comes the snowplow!” Uncle James said loudly. “Don’t know if Rusty will like this or not!”

  Lizzie pulled in her breath sharply. A sob tore at her throat. Emma grabbed Lizzie’s arm, pulling her over toward her side of the buggy.

  “Lizzie, don’t cry! Now I mean it. Everything is going to be …”

  “Whoa!” yelled Uncle James. His shoulders moved back and forth as he struggled to control the skittish horse.

  “Whoop! Whoa! Whoa there!” Uncle James pulled back on the reins as hard as he could, but there was not much he could do. Up, up came Rusty until Lizzie could see only his broad black back with the harness flapping and his tail blowing in the whirling snow. Lizzie choked, trying to keep back the terror she felt.

  But when the horse seemed to topple backwards and Uncle James yelled again, a loud scream broke from her throat. Emma screamed, too, and Lavina Lapp cried out in a strange, hoarse voice. It seemed as if Rusty was falling now, straight back into the window. Uncle James was half standing, fighting to keep control of his horse, while staying out of the snowplow’s direct path.

  Suddenly there was a horrible lurch, and Lizzie banged her head sharply against the back of the seat. She screamed again, and Emma held her tightly as her head hit the back, throwing them against the side of the buggy.

  Snow swirled in through the open window as Rusty came down on all fours. He hit the ground running, taking great, leaping strides in his urgent need to run away from the snowplow that had terrified him.

  They tore down the snowy road at a pace Lizzie hadn’t thought was possible. She wondered if they were going to have a real accident, because Rusty was running away. Wasn’t this how bad accidents actually happened? The buggy wheel could fly off and they would all fall out on the road. She squeezed her eyes shut very tightly, just waiting until the whole buggy flew apart.

  But it didn’t. Slowly, Uncle James regained control, and Rusty trotted with only a small amount of fear. His ears still flicked back and forth and his head was held high, but he was not running away. Lizzie sighed.

  “Boy, that was scary!” Lavina breathed.

  “It sure was,” Uncle James said with a laugh.

  Lizzie couldn’t understand how Uncle James could laugh about it. It wasn’t even one bit funny. She fought back tears of fear and frustration, and mostly she felt like crying because it seemed as if the horse had wanted to kill them all. Lizzie was really angry at the horse.

  She dug into the pocket of her dress to find her handkerchief and wiped furiously at her nose, sniffing loudly. It was so hard to think that a horse could actually get so fierce. They should never do that, especially not in a snowstorm!

  Lizzie loved horses and ponies, and it had never occurred to her that they would ever be quite that dangerous. So she wiped her eyes hard with her handkerchief, sniffed, adjusted her bonnet strings under her chin, and frowned. They never should have come to school, that’s what, she thought. The weather just was not fit. Now she wasn’t even sure if she liked horses or not. Ponies were smaller, and their pony, named Dolly, had run away once, but it hadn’t been as horrifying as this. And when a horse reared up that far, he looked as big as an elephant. Bigger, actually.

  When they pulled up to the school yard, the gate stood open and there were children huddled on the porch. Uncle James threw open the door of the market wagon and asked the children if the teacher was there.

  “Yeah, she’s here,” Reuben Zook told him.

  “Alright, then. Out you go,” Uncle James said, hopping down into the swirling snow.

  Lizzie grabbed her lunchbox and tumbled out of the buggy. She struggled through the snowdrifts and up the steps of the porch, followed by Emma and Lavina. They burst through the door and into the warm, cozy classroom. Teacher Katie hurried across the room, putting her hand on Emma’s shoulder.

  “My goodness, girls! Your Uncle James is a brave man! I cannot imagine how hard it must have been for him to keep that buggy on the road! Didn’t you meet a snowplow? I sure hope that is a horse that doesn’t shy away from heavy vehicles,” she said.

  Lavina and Emma both started talking at the same time, explaining to Teacher Katie how frightening their ride to school actually was. Lizzie couldn’t get a word in at all, so she took her lunchbox back and set it on the wooden shelf beside the water bucket. She was thinking very serious thoughts about Uncle James and Rusty, blinking her eyes as she unbuttoned her heavy black coat.

  “Lizzie!” Her best friend, Betty, rushed over to greet her.

  “What?” Lizzie looked up from unbuttoning her coat and shrugged it off her shoulders, turning to hang it on a gold hook that had a piece of adhesive tape above it saying “Elizabeth Gl
ick.”

  “Lizzie, it isn’t e-even funny how windy it is!”

  “Oh, I know,” Lizzie answered gravely.

  “How did you come to school? Surely you didn’t walk!” Betty exclaimed. “No,” Lizzie said, shaking her head. “Uncle James brought us with his horse, Rusty. It was awful!”

  “Why? What happened?” Betty asked, leaning forward in anticipation.

  Lizzie shook her head and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, taking a deep breath for emphasis. She hung her bonnet and long, woolen scarf on the hook, turning to Betty and saying, “We almost ended up in the hospital with an ambulance.”

  “Really!” Betty’s eyes opened wide, and she put both hands up to her mouth in dismay.

  That really made Lizzie feel important, so she launched into the whole story, waving her arms to accentuate the exciting parts.

  Later, when she sat at her desk listening to the teacher read the Bible story, she felt a bit guilty. She had told Betty the truth, though—except maybe the horse didn’t quite fall back on the buggy. He may as well have, as scary as it looked. She bet he actually did touch the top of the buggy, at least his blowing mane and tail.

  chapter 3

  Sled Riding

  After the wind died down, the sun shone on a glittering world of pure white. The snow was compacted from the steady force of the wind, which made conditions perfect to go sledding.

  So one day at school, just before it was time to dismiss the children, Teacher Katie announced that the next day they would have classes till lunchtime, then they would go sledding on Stoltzfus’s hill the remainder of the day. They should be sure and pack extra food in their lunchboxes, and bring a Thermos with a drink, and a pair of extra warm socks in case their feet got too cold.

  Lizzie was so excited. She clapped her hands together without actually hitting them against each other. Betty gave her a gleeful look and bounced up and down in her seat. They were not allowed to be noisy, so they just quietly acted out their excitement.