by Linda Byler
Lizzie was sitting on the platform rocker, sniffling and tracing the swan’s head on the handle with her fingers. As usual, life just wasn’t fair. It really wasn’t her fault the bathroom was so wet. She just didn’t realize she would splash quite as much as she did. How was she supposed to know? She could hear Mam and Emma start supper, talking together and sharing their day. Emma walked into view, straightened the old torn tablecloth, and set the plates neatly and properly in their place. Oh, that’s really nice. What a good girl Emma is being again, while I get yelled at, Lizzie thought.
She traced the wooden swan’s head again, and wished they were real swans that would go peck Mam and Emma. She knew it was naughty, and she should not have such thoughts, but only for a minute she thought it would be nice.
Then she helped Mandy play a game of Chutes and Ladders until Dat came up the stairs for supper.
chapter 9
The Accident
Selling Teeny and Tiny, the miniature ponies, must have made a difference for Mam and Dat, because they were much more lighthearted again, laughing and joking with the girls. Mam did not work in the harness shop quite as often, so she had more time for her housework, which made a difference for Emma and Lizzie, too.
The heat continued steadily. Every morning the sun rose in a red ball, flaming in the bright blue sky, and by mid-morning everyone felt warm and tired, before the day had hardly begun.
Sometimes Dat set up the sprinkler at the end of the garden hose, and all the children—even Jason—dashed through it until they were soaked with the ice-cold water that came up from the well. If they ran through the sprinkler on days after Mam had mowed the grass, their legs were almost covered with grass. Jason even had grass in his curly hair, but Emma said the grass was clean so it really didn’t matter.
Lizzie wished with her whole heart they could have a place to swim. She wanted to learn how to swim, like real people did in the books she read. She could not imagine being able to kick your arms and legs in deep water and stay up there. She asked Dat if he could swim, and he said he could, but not very well, because he was actually afraid of the water. Mam said she never even tried, and no, she couldn’t swim one tiny bit and never cared to try.
So Lizzie didn’t say anything more, but she thought Dat and Mam were just terribly unexciting. She hoped when she was married her husband would dig a pond, because he would have lots of money, and she would go swimming every day, in warm summer weather like this, anyway. She asked Emma why Amish people didn’t have swimming pools like English people did, and Emma said it was too worldly. That really irked Lizzie, because that was no explanation at all.
This morning Lizzie was really wishing she could swim, partly because it was so warm, and partly because Mam and Emma were doing the Saturday cleaning. She sat on a stool in the harness shop beside Dat and asked him again why Amish people couldn’t have swimming pools.
“Lizzie, you really are getting annoying,” Dat said, wiping his forehead with his blue handkerchief. It was very warm in the shop—even with both doors wide open there was scarcely a breeze.
“Well, how am I ever going to learn how to swim? I have to do that, you know. Sometime, Dat,” Lizzie stated seriously.
“Ach, Lizzie. You’re a little Amish girl, and Amish girls shouldn’t go swimming, anyway. It’s not very ladylike, you know,” he said, tucking his handkerchief into his pocket.
Lizzie didn’t answer. She was thinking how unfair it was. After all, boys went swimming all the time, because Marvin said so. “Why do boys go, then?” she asked.
“Because,” Dat said, bending over a piece of leather he was getting ready to sew.
“I would go swimming in my dress, Dat. That wouldn’t be unladylike at all.”
“Who would go with you?”
“Just me and Marvin.”
“In Doddy Glicks’ dirty pond?”
“It isn’t dirty, Dat.”
“There are huge snapping turtles in there, Lizzie. They eat baby ducks and geese, coming up from underneath and grabbing their little legs, swallowing them whole. How would you like to be happily swimming and have a snapping turtle grab your foot, because he thought it was a baby duck?”
“My feet don’t look one bit like a baby duck’s, Dat!” Lizzie said, punching him hard in the arm.
Dat laughed. He bent down and peered at Lizzie’s brown bare foot. “Why, sure they do!”
Lizzie bent down to look, just to make sure her feet were normal. They were a little flat and wide, but they looked like people feet, not a duck’s.
“They are a bit flat,” she said slowly.
Dat laughed about that, and his laugh was so funny that Lizzie laughed with him.
Just as Dat turned to continue his sewing, they were both shocked to an absolute standstill, hearing the sound of desperately screeching brakes, followed by the most sickening thud Lizzie had ever heard.
Dat’s face turned pale, and his blue eyes seemed to darken as he listened carefully. Lizzie stood very still, somehow feeling as if something extremely serious had happened.
“That wasn’t very far away. Just down the road, it seems like,” Dat said, hurrying out on the porch. Lizzie ran along, and they both stood very still, listening, yet almost afraid of what they would hear, or had heard.
The sun beat down on their heads with the same fierce intensity of the previous weeks. The air was so still, not even a leaf turned on the tree beside the harness shop sign.
“Wonder if I should walk out the road?” Dat mused.
“Can I go along?”
“No, you stay here. You go up to Mam, Lizzie. I’ll go see what happened,” he said, starting to walk out the road at a fast, nervous pace.
Lizzie wrapped her arms around the dark green steel pole that held the harness shop sign. She looked at her bare feet against the concrete and spread them out as flat as she could. She really did have wide, flat feet. She tucked a strand of brown hair behind one ear, twirled around the pole, and wondered what had happened that a car’s brakes screeched like that.
A few cars passed, a truck with wooden racks flopping loudly, sounding as if they could fly off any minute. Lizzie was glad she wasn’t on the road with a horse and buggy, because things like that really scared most horses, even worse than big tractor trailers. He should fix his sloppy wooden racks, she thought.
It was terribly hot on the concrete sidewalk, but Lizzie didn’t really want to go into the house, mostly because Mam and Emma were cleaning. But Dat had told her to go up to Mam, so she turned to start up the gray wooden steps that led to the kitchen.
The kitchen door opened, and Emma appeared, holding a dust mop carefully in one hand. She began shaking it vigorously, just as Lizzie was halfway up the steps.
“Emma, stop that!”
Little bits of dust and dirt were swirling all around Lizzie. Emma stopped shaking the dust mop, and said, “Oh, there you are, Lizzie. Mam wants you to come take out the garbage.”
“Emma, did you and Mam hear that sound on the road? Dat walked up to see what is going on. There was a loud, screeching sound of someone’s brakes, and then, Emma—it isn’t even funny—I just know something bad happened.”
The air seemed to be split into two parts by the sudden wailing of a siren. The shrill rhythm was earsplitting, and Lizzie held her hands to her ears, as she turned her frightened eyes to Emma’s face.
“My, that’s close!” Emma shouted.
Mam came out on the porch, her face beaded with perspiration. Her eyes opened wide at the nerve-shattering, insistent sound of the siren. “That’s not far away,” she said, listening closely.
As the siren wound down to a slow stop, another one started up, piercing through the air with its eerie wail. Lizzie hated that sound. It always made her feel helpless, because she didn’t know why the sirens were blowing, or where they were going, or what had happened. It really bothered Lizzie if she had to give up and go on with her play, without knowing exactly what had happened to make th
em use those awful sirens.
They all stood together silently in the warm, sultry summer air, their breaths abated, wondering why the sirens were so close. There was a thump on the lower step, and Dat’s white, terrified face appeared below them. He was hatless, his hair blown back over his wide forehead from running, his upper lip beaded with sweat.
He ran up the steps and took Mam in his arms, something Emma and Lizzie very seldom saw him do. He started crying, tears coursing from his blue eyes, and Mam patted his arms as he struggled for control.
“Annie, Annie. It’s just so awful. I’ll never forget this as long as I live,” he choked brokenly.
“What, Melvin. What?” Mam asked, in tears herself. Dat searched in his pocket and found his big blue handkerchief. He blew his nose and wiped his eyes, looking up the road as if reliving the horror of what he had seen. He took a deep, shaking breath.
“Annie, it’s the Beiler girls.”
“Oh, Melvin!”
“They … they were on the road with the pony and cart, just clipping along, and a car came up over the crest of that small, steep hill, close to Paul Hoovers!”
“Yes. Go on, Melvin,” Mam said, wiping her eyes.
“He was going too fast, Annie,” Dat broke down again, covering his eyes with his handkerchief.
“Oh my, Melvin. How bad is it?” Mam asked.
Dat sighed. “Bad. Susie was killed. Malinda was taken to the hospital with the ambulance.”
Lizzie would never forget this moment. Susie! Her classmate in school, and a good friend. She was very quiet for one long moment as the hard, horrible truth clung to her senses like an awful creature. She wanted to shake it off and make it go away, because it was choking her. She looked at Emma, who was sobbing with Dat and Mam, and wondered why she couldn’t cry. She just stood there, while her mind thought other things, like the color of the threads in the dust mop at her feet, and why the mop wasn’t put away after Emma was finished with it.
“You know how some people mount those silver decorative horses or airplanes on the hood of their car? Well, this guy had a rocket, and when he hit the pony cart, the rocket went through Susie’s back, killing her instantly,” Dat said, shuddering at the thought.
Jason and Mandy wandered out on the porch, and Jason reached for his father, fussing happily in his baby language. Dat reached down and picked him up, burying his face in Jason’s curls. Mandy started crying, just because everyone else was. Mam bent down and held her tightly, explaining in a soft voice that something had happened and that they would be alright, because Mandy was so little and skinny, so easily afraid of anything.
Dat sat down wearily on the porch swing, holding Jason and swinging gently. Mam moved over and he made room for her on the swing, Mandy climbing into Mam’s lap.
Emma sat on an old green lawn chair, leaned back against the webbing, and crossed her arms over her stomach. She was still sniffling, and tears welled up in her eyes as she looked over at Lizzie.
Lizzie stood against a porch post, her mouth in a grim line, her eyes staring at nothing. Emma wondered why Lizzie didn’t cry with everyone else, because she always cried easily, especially if she wanted her own way.
Dat sighed. Jason put his head against his shoulder, and they rocked quietly. On the street below, cars went past as usual, but not for very long, because a police car stopped and parked across from the harness shop. As they all watched, the policeman got out of his car and donned an orange vest. He stood in the middle of the road, directing cars in another direction to avoid the accident. He blew his whistle occasionally, waving his right arm or holding up his left, to stop cars or to let them turn into the other road.
“Why is he doing that?” Mandy asked, her big green eyes shining in her upturned face.
“Oh, there’s been an accident, and there are too many people and cars on the road, so these other cars are supposed to use another route,” Mam told her gently.
“Mam, what happens to Malinda in the hospital?” Emma asked.
“It all depends on how badly she’s hurt,” Mam answered.
“Do you think she’s hurt really bad? I mean, do they have to operate and everything?” Emma asked, sitting up straight and swinging her legs nervously.
“Emma, I don’t know how badly she’s hurt,” Dat said seriously. “We’ll soon know.”
“Melvin, I feel so helpless. What is the first thing to do when someone dies?” Mam asked, looking over at Dat.
“Let’s wait an hour or so, at least till Amos and Sadie find out and are at the hospital. Then we’ll go to their house and help get ready for the funeral.”
“What’s a funeral?” Mandy asked.
Dat looked helplessly at Mam. Mam looked back at Dat, and they agreed in one look to tell Mandy.
“It’s when someone dies, Mandy,” Mam said.
“Who died?” Mandy asked innocently.
“Susie Beiler. A little girl who went to school with Emma and Lizzie,” Dat said.
“Is she dead?”
“Yes, she was killed when a car hit their pony cart.”
Mandy thought about this, swinging her legs and looking at Mam.
“Melvin.” Mam got up from the swing and stood at the screen door. “I’m going to bake a cake and a few custard pies to take along to Amoses. I can’t just sit here and do nothing.” That was Mam’s way. When she became upset or nervous, she worked fast with her hands, because it helped ease her worries.
Dat looked lovingly at Mam, knowing she would work through the shock and sorrow by doing some baking for the family who had lost a loved one.
Emma jumped up. “I’ll help you, Mam.”
Dat got to his feet. “I really don’t want to, but I’ll walk up to the accident again to see if there’s anything I can do.”
Lizzie was grinding her teeth without thinking. She stood against the post, thinking about helping Mam bake, and she couldn’t stand the thought of that stifling kitchen. She wished this accident hadn’t happened, because it made her feel awful. She couldn’t cry, because she was too angry. Not really angry, just upset. She was, in fact, so miserable that she didn’t know what to do, so she just stood there.
She wondered if Susie Beiler was really and truly dead. How did anyone actually know, and who said it if she was? Where was the man who drove into them now? What would happen to him? Mam always said you go to Heaven when you die, so why was everybody crying if she just went to Heaven? And if she did go to Heaven, then why were they having a funeral at Amos Beilers’ house?
There were so many unanswered questions, and Lizzie’s head hurt from trying to understand everything. She pushed away from the porch post and carefully made her way down the stairs so the policeman would not see her. You couldn’t really trust policemen, because they had the power to put you in jail, as far as Lizzie knew.
She wandered across the warm brown lawn, under the apple trees, across the gravel driveway, and into the barn. The barn was much cooler, and the familiar horse and pony smell reminded Lizzie of a much happier time, when Dat helped them hitch up Teeny and Tiny.
Dolly popped her head up over the gate, and whinnied to her. Lizzie petted her nose, but Dolly kept on nickering in soft little rumbles.
“You’re thirsty, aren’t you?” she asked. “C’mon.”
Lizzie opened the gate, and Dolly pushed past her to get to the water trough. Lizzie ran after her, in case she decided to run out the door. But Dolly only wanted a drink, that was all, and Lizzie put her arms around her neck as she took long, deep gulps of cool water. Dolly seemed so big compared to Teeny and Tiny. Lizzie still missed them, but not as much as before. Sometimes she even forgot what they looked like. She guessed Susie Beiler was the same. She would forget about her, too. Maybe when Teeny and Tiny died, they would be in Heaven with Susie and they would all wait for her.
But what if she lived to be an old, wrinkled mommy and couldn’t even hitch them up? The thought was so cruel, it welled up in her throat in a hard lump, and she
gave up trying to swallow it. She simply buried her face in Dolly’s mane, and cried great tears of grief for Susie, for Teeny and Tiny, for growing old, for not knowing, for things that happened in your life that you could do nothing about, and for the deep feeling that there was a God up in Heaven—she just couldn’t understand Him yet.
chapter 10
The Funeral
The days that followed the accident were long, sad, confusing days. Lizzie tried hard to be a very good girl, because it seemed as if it was a time when she really needed to be on her best behavior. But it was hard. She just couldn’t keep quiet and act sad all the time, she decided.
Emma told her she should not laugh too much, because it wasn’t being respectful to Susie Beiler, or the accident, or even to her sad parents. Lizzie nodded her head in agreement, but didn’t say what she was thinking, because Emma was older and wiser. Lizzie wasn’t sure what respectful meant, really, so she guessed it meant sitting still and being very quiet without laughing at all.
The first day, Dat and Mam both went to Amos Beilers’ place to help prepare the home for the funeral. As is the Amish custom, the family stayed at the house, and friends cleaned everything thoroughly, cooked meals, and helped with preparations for the large funeral which was to be held there. They supported the grieving family members, showing their love through kind words, kind deeds, and helping hands.
Loaves of freshly baked homemade bread, chocolate layer cakes, nut cakes, plastic containers of chocolate chip cookies, cupcakes, and all sorts of different pies were heaped in the Beiler pantry. Stainless steel kettles of chicken corn soup, vegetable soup, jars of applesauce, pears, peaches, and cherries also found their way to the grieving family. The food was all accepted with a quiet nod of acknowledgment by the people who were taking charge, shouldering the burden for the family members.
The men worked together, cleaning the shop and building a temporary addition, using lumber and clear plastic as a shelter for the huge crowd of mourners. This was where the funeral service would be held the following day.
