by Linda Byler
“I know,” Lizzie said happily. “Me and Emma will do it.” Together they swept as fast as they could, and Lizzie thought her heart was so light, she doubted if it weighed as much as a feather. She knew one thing for sure: she would never, ever take another orange soda without asking Dat.
chapter 15
Washing
Emma and Lizzie were in the washhouse, sorting loads of laundry. A big plastic hamper was between them, still packed full of dirty clothes, even if it seemed they already had big piles. The hose hung in the white Maytag wringer washer, with steaming hot water pouring out of it. The granite rinse tub was pushed up against it, ready to be filled with rinse water.
The washing machine was powered by a small gas engine, which Dat would start for them, because they were too small to fill it with gasoline or try to start it. Lizzie always made sure she was close when Dat poured gasoline into the engine, because she loved the smell of it.
The morning sun shone through the old glass-paned windows, warming up the washhouse in a short time. Emma stopped to wipe a hand across her forehead. “Lizzie, open the door. It’s getting warm in here,” she said.
Lizzie was not in a good mood, so she just went on sorting laundry. Besides washing dishes, this was her least favorite job, and she felt irked because Mam made them do the laundry this morning.
“Lizzie.”
Lizzie didn’t answer. Emma could open the door herself, she thought. She couldn’t see why she had to do it. She picked up a dirty little shirt of Jason’s and flung it on the white pile.
“Lizzie! Answer me!”
“What?”
“Go open the door.”
“You can.”
“Lizzie, I’m going to tell Dat.”
Lizzie looked at the washing machine. The water was almost to the top, but she didn’t say anything. That was Emma’s job, and she wanted to see what would happen if the water ran over. So she straightened her back and walked slowly over to the old wooden door, giving the loose porcelain knob a yank. Morning sunshine flooded the old oak floor, just as the water started running over the sides of the wringer washer. Lizzie was rewarded with an exasperated sound from Emma as she dashed over to put the hose in the rinse water.
Lizzie stood at the torn wooden screen door, looking out over the yard and garden. She stretched and scratched her stomach, feeling tired and irritable. Probably the reason she felt so tired and grouchy was because she had lain awake last evening, hearing Mam and Dat talking until way into the night.
She yawned, and tears formed in her eyes after the yawn. She wiped them away, stretched, and leaned against the door frame. She had felt so sick to her stomach last night, so horribly afraid, that her heart whacked against her ribs, pushing up a lump in her throat. She had rolled over from side to side, trying to shut out her parents’ voices with the palm of her hand, even grabbing the pillow and molding it over her whole head, her face smashed against the sheet until she couldn’t breathe. She had longed for a quiet, restful sleep, like Emma, who lay beside her, breathing evenly and deeply.
But Dat’s voice would rise, followed by a soft murmur from Mam, until her voice would yank Lizzie to reality again, talking fast and loud, almost as if she could cry any moment. It had been quite an ordeal, listening to their conversation. Lizzie even blamed herself in a way, because maybe if she wouldn’t have taken that orange soda out of the cooler, Dat might not have been in the shop when that fancy, smooth-talking salesman had walked in. Because there lay the trouble, Lizzie could easily tell. Evidently Dat had bought an expensive piece of equipment from the salesman, which Mam felt they could not afford. Dat had pleaded with Mam, saying it was a great new invention to fix the soles of the heaviest shoes, farmers’ boots, and carpenter and road crew boots, and it would boost their profit easily to help pay for the machine.
Mam had reminded him about the new sewing machine, the saddletree, and other numerous items, and that the shop still was not making enough money for a decent living. Dat had agreed, and for a while, Lizzie was so glad they were talking sensibly. She knew they were poor, because they took potato soup on a picnic, but she didn’t know it was as bad as Mam said. The thing that struck terror in Lizzie’s heart, that caused her to lie awake deep into the warm night, was when Mam said she just couldn’t see how they could hang on any longer. Dat had answered Mam in the most awful, loud voice, stomped across the living room, and went out on the porch, the door slamming behind him. Lizzie thought she would surely die of feeling dreadful when she heard Mam crying softly, sighing, and blowing her nose. She even thought of crawling out of bed to get on her knees to ask God to please come help them all, because Dat and Mam didn’t know what to do because they had so many bills and no money.
But that would make her feel too dumb, so she didn’t. But she did turn on her back and clasp her hands over her chest and thought a loud thought to God, asking Him to help Dat and Mam. Later, she thought, maybe Jesus would hear her better, because He was much smaller and not near as fierce-looking. Mam had shown her a picture once of Jesus sitting on a little boy’s bed when there was a thunderstorm outside, and He didn’t look one bit scary, except He wore a long, white dress, which was very strange. So Lizzie thought the same thought, except she said it to Jesus.
She felt strangely quiet and not so scared after that. Maybe it was because the light went out in the living room and Dat and Mam went to bed, or maybe it was really that God had heard her, or Jesus. Her last thought had been, that they probably had, because she felt so much better.
Now, leaning against the door frame, Lizzie thought she bet when you were almost ten years old, your prayers amounted to something. She didn’t know for sure, so she’d have to ask Emma about that.
The rinse tubs were full, and Emma closed both spigots. She added a cup of Tide to the wash water, and some kind of blue stuff to the rinse water.
“Lizzie, go ask Dat to come start the motor,” she said over her shoulder.
So Lizzie walked to the shop, where Dat was riveting halters. The machine came down on the leather, going ‘thump, thump’ with a powerful, satisfying clunk. Lizzie loved to hear the riveter.
“Dat!”
“What?” he asked, stopping the machine.
“You have to come start the washing machine motor.”
“Alright-y, Lizzie.” He slid off his stool and followed her into the washhouse, grabbing the gasoline can and turning the cap from the tank on the motor. Lizzie bent over close to smell the wonderful scent as the gasoline trickled into the tank. Dat smiled at her, turned the lid tight, and stood up. He set the gasoline can away carefully, giving the rope on the motor a hard tug. The motor popped right off, settling down to a quiet, steady ‘putta-putta-putt.’
Emma pulled a lever, and the agitator in the washing machine spun back and forth, back and forth. She bent to put the first load of diapers into the machine, which Mam had prewashed with a stronger detergent.
“There you go, girls. Be careful,” Dat said, walking out the door. Emma and Lizzie sat on the wooden porch steps, closing the washhouse door behind them.
“We have to let the diapers wash a while,” Emma said matter-of-factly.
“I know.”
Emma looked at Lizzie. “Why didn’t you comb your hair, Lizzie?”
Lizzie shrugged. “Too tired.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.” Lizzie dug a finger into her ear, turning her head toward Emma. “Emma, did you go to sleep early last night? I mean, as soon as we went to bed?” she asked hesitantly.
“Why?”
“Did you hear Mam and Dat argue last night?”
“Were they?”
“Well, yes, Emma. Really bad. Mam was crying. Emma, we’re so poor that we can barely hang on here, whatever that means. Emma, do you think that it could be my fault? I mean, you know I took that orange soda from the cooler? Do you think that salesman would not have come into the shop if I wouldn’t have had to sweep the floor?”
; “Ach, Lizzie, that’s dumb.”
“I know.”
They sat in silence as Emma brushed a finger across her teeth. “I forgot to brush my teeth.”
“Do you brush them every morning, plus every night?” Lizzie asked, incredulous at the thought that Emma actually did.
“Of course.”
Lizzie thought about that for awhile. She would probably never do that, because brushing your teeth was almost as bad as washing dishes or washing clothes, like this morning.
“Emma, who hears prayers the best, God or Jesus?” Lizzie asked, very suddenly.
“They both do the same,” Emma said firmly.
“How do you know?”
“Oh, I just know.”
“Does God hear it better if you go on your knees or not?”
“You have to ask Mam that. You should go on your knees, though. I mean, everyone does in church. Two times.”
“Mm-hmm. Emma, I wish we had chips,” Lizzie said.
“Why?”
“’Cause we haven’t had chips for so long, and I’m hungry for some. All we ever have is stale pretzels or popcorn,” Lizzie wailed.
“That’s ’cause we’re poor.”
“I hate being poor.”
Emma got up, turning to go into the washhouse. “C’mon, we have to get these diapers out.”
Lizzie got up to follow Emma, yawning again. She was so tired that it didn’t seem fair that she had to help Emma wash. She was jerked out of her sleepiness when Emma howled in despair. She reached into the fast-moving water and grabbed a big blob of tightly knotted diapers. Water sloshed over the side of the washing machine when she put it back in.
“Lizzie!” Emma yelled at the top of her voice, so her sister could hear her over the sound of the ‘putta-putta-putt’ of the engine. “Go get Mam!”
Lizzie cast one wild-eyed look at the water slopping out of the washer, and dashed madly out the door and up the steps to the kitchen. She burst into the house, shouting, “Mam!”
Mam looked up from the stovetop she was cleaning, an alarmed expression on her face. “Lizzie, whatever is wrong with you?” she asked, her face turning pale.
“Come quick! Water is slopping over the washing machine and the diapers are all wrapped up in each other so tight it feels as hard as a stick,” Lizzie panted.
Mam followed her down the stairs, scolding as she went. “Lizzie, you have to stop leaving the diapers in so long. I have often told Emma. What were you doing?”
They came to the washhouse, where Emma stood wringing her hands, an expression of despair on her face. She looked relieved to see Mam and burst out, “Mam, the diapers are knotted so tight it isn’t even funny!”
Mam’s mouth was pinched in a firm line, and she pulled up her sleeve with one hand as she plunged the other into the washer. She came up with a mass of very white, very knotted diapers, which she proceeded to yank apart with strong hands, scolding as she did so.
“Emma, where were you and Lizzie? You know you can’t let these diapers wash for so long! Ach, I should just wash by myself, I guess. You girls just aren’t old enough yet.” Mam twisted and pulled on the hard knot of diapers, dropping them back into the swirling, sudsy water as she loosened each one. Emma stood beside her, watching with a bewildered expression.
“Well, Mam, I can’t understand why they knotted like that. Me and Lizzie were just sitting on the steps talking for a little while.”
“Just be careful. You have to mind your business when you wash.” Mam wiped her hands on her apron, watching as Emma put the diapers through the wringer, which pressed out the water from the diapers, depositing them into the blue rinse water.
Mam turned to go, but watched Emma rinsing them. “Be sure and rinse them thoroughly. The last time you washed, the diapers were as stiff as a board.”
That did it. Lizzie decided she didn’t like Mam this morning. That was the thing, if your parents disagreed, it was hard to know whose side you were on. First Lizzie pitied Dat, then she pitied Mam, then she pitied them both. It just made life hard and much more complicated, she decided. Who felt like washing now? She knew the diapers may have been stiff and not rinsed very well, but they weren’t as stiff as a board. Mam stretched her stuff, so Lizzie supposed that’s where she got it, ’cause Emma claimed Lizzie did, too—stretch the truth, that is, not rinse the diapers.
Lizzie followed Emma to the washline, as she lugged the wicker clothes basket filled with wet diapers. She handed the wooden clothespins to her, as she hung up the snowy white, sweet-smelling diapers. They blew away from them, on the soft summer breeze, flapping quietly as each one was hung up.
Lizzie was feeling sleepy again, standing in the warm sun. She yawned, clapping one hand over her mouth, as she handed Emma another clothespin. Suddenly, without warning, there was a horrible buzz in Lizzie’s ear, followed by a soft, fuzzy feeling and a frightful, searing pain on her cheek. She dropped a clothespin, screaming and batting at the bee on her face. She danced around the soft grass, screaming and screaming, as Emma dropped the diaper she was holding, hovering over her protectively.
“Shh! Shh! Lizzie, you were stung! By a bee! Oh, oh!” She started screaming herself, as she found the bee, writhing in the grass.
“Get it, Lizzie, get it!”
“Ow! Ow!” was Lizzie’s only response.
“Lizzie, go up to the kitchen and get Mam to help you put something on your sting. I’m going to get Dat to stomp on this bee.”
As Lizzie wailed and howled her way to the kitchen, Emma found Dat in the shop, who promptly came to their rescue. He stood looking at the angry bee and told Emma there was no use killing the poor thing, because after they stung someone, they naturally died by themselves. Emma stood solemnly beside Dat as the bee died, then remembered her wash swirling in the washer. She told Dat she had to go get her wash, striding across the lawn with the empty wicker clothes basket like a girl much older.
Dat watched her go, thinking how much responsibility Emma took naturally on her capable little shoulders. He felt a terrible pang of guilt for making Annie work long hours with him in the harness shop. If he was very honest with himself, he knew they couldn’t go on very much longer, unless things changed. Annie did what she could, and his heart swelled with love for his wife. He just didn’t know what else he would do, because he loved the harness shop and enjoyed the feel and smell of the leather beneath his fingers.
He turned to go, running a hand through his hair. He would leave it to the Lord, he thought, and if they weren’t meant to stay here, something would come up. A small smile appeared on his face as she stepped up on the porch, listening to Lizzie’s alarming yells of pain and rage. If ever anyone could make a fuss about pain, Lizzie could.
He found Mam bent over Lizzie, who was lying on the couch, yelling at the top of her voice. Mam applied a soft cloth that had been soaked with apple cider vinegar, a cooling, soothing remedy for stings.
Lizzie’s yelling ceased almost instantly, and her nose wrinkled as she sat up, saying quite loudly, “That stinks!”
Mam was very patient with Lizzie’s yelling, but she decided it wasn’t that bad if all she thought about was the smell of the vinegar.
“You hold it, Lizzie. It will make it feel much better,” Mam said.
“No, I don’t want it on my face. It stinks!”
So Mam got up and marched into the kitchen with the cloth. Well then, let her yell, she decided. That Lizzie tried her to the absolute limit when something painful happened. It was always much worse than the other children, so if she minded the smell of vinegar more than the pain of the sting, so be it.
Lizzie lay back down, her cheek hurting cruelly. She touched it tentatively with her fingertips. It felt so hot, and she wondered if you could die from a bee sting. Probably not. She remembered Marvin saying you could die if a copperhead snake or a rattlesnake bit you, though.
Dat rolled his eyes in Lizzie’s direction, and Mam rolled her eyes back at him. Dat smiled and Mam
smiled back. As Dat went back to the harness shop, his heart was light again, because his beloved Annie had forgiven him for buying that expensive piece of equipment.
Emma worked all by herself, whistling under her breath, putting load after load of laundry through the wringer. She loved her work, taking immense pleasure in hanging out the clean laundry and watching it flap in the breeze.
Her thoughts wandered, thinking how strange Lizzie was, lying awake listening to Mam and Dat. She would never worry about such things. She’d much rather daydream, thinking about her own house someday, with her own husband to care for, cooking, baking, washing dishes, and sweeping the floor of her kitchen.
That Lizzie sure was strange, no doubt about it.
chapter 16
A Visit to Jefferson County
Lizzie wriggled into a more comfortable position on the slippery plastic seat. She tugged at her black apron to fold it properly under her knees, along with her purple skirt.
She glanced at Emma, who was looking straight ahead, past Dat’s head and out the window of the old station wagon. Emma was always neat, because she held herself still, Mam said. Lizzie looked down at her skirt, then over at Emma’s skirt, and decided she was just as neat as Emma. Mandy sat on Lizzie’s other side, but Lizzie never worried if Mandy was neater than she was, because she was such a skinny little girl who still wore a black pinafore-style apron.
Lizzie wished Dat would remove his hat. She would have been able to see much more, but she was afraid to say anything, because the driver might think she was complaining. So she didn’t say anything. Besides, she could look out the side window, but the only trouble with that was, if she saw something interesting, they were past before she could really see it as well as she wanted to.
She could hardly believe they were actually on their way to Jefferson County to her Uncle Elis. Lizzie could only remember a little of ever having been there before, so she was excited beyond words.
The evening before, Emma and Lizzie had hung their purple dresses on a special hook, laid out their best school aprons, and cleaned their black and white sneakers vigorously. Emma gave Lizzie one of her best handkerchiefs to use. It had blue and yellow roses all along the edge, and at one corner there was a huge cluster of roses. Lizzie told Emma that she could have it, but she really hoped Emma wouldn’t take it back. She didn’t, because Emma was not selfish at all.
