Little Amish Lizzie

by Linda Byler

  “Yes.” Lizzie took a deep breath. “I often wanted to have a ride, but I don’t know anybody that has one.”

  “You don’t know who I am, either, do you?”

  “No, but you must know Lavina Lapp, or you wouldn’t be taking me to school.”

  He smiled down at her. “Smart young lady, aren’t you? Yes, I know her. I work for your Uncle James on the farm three days a week.”

  “Oh,” Lizzie said. She didn’t know what else to say, so she just watched the harness flapping up and down on the horse’s rump as he trotted at a swift pace.

  The air was cold on Lizzie’s face, and tears formed in her eyes from the cold wind. She shivered. They were just flying along, she thought. The horse went a lot faster than Red, even if he was smaller.

  The young man looked down and asked, “Are you cold? Here, wrap the blanket around you.” He handed her a soft, woolen blanket, then reached over and tucked it around her. It was followed by a heavy black canvas blanket that kept all the cold air off Lizzie.

  “This big black blanket is called a gum blanket. That’s to keep us dry when it rains,” he said.

  Lizzie didn’t know what to say to that, either. She thought about asking him where he kept his big black umbrella, but she didn’t really know how to say it right, so she kept quiet.

  She was surprised to see the schoolhouse already. The young man pulled on the reins, slowing the horse so they could turn in on the road that went past the schoolhouse. As they pulled up to the school, the children on the porch all stared at Lizzie in amazement. Her little girlfriends put their hands over their mouths and opened their eyes wide. Lizzie felt very important as the young man loosened the gum blanket and helped her off the buggy. He smiled at her as he handed her lunchbox to her.

  “There you go, Lizzie. Have a good day at school.”

  “Thank you,” Lizzie remembered to say.

  She stepped back as the horse turned to go out the schoolyard gate. All her friends ran up to her as soon as the buggy was gone.

  “Lizzie!” squealed Betty. “Who was that? Was it fun? Where’s Emma and Lavina?”

  Betty was like that. She was Lizzie’s favorite friend, although Lizzie had soon learned to love all of them. Betty was the little girl who sat beside her who had on a fancy dress. Sarah was thin and soft-spoken, but very friendly. Lizzie often traded her pretzels for Sarah’s popcorn.

  So Lizzie pulled herself up tall and said, “He’s a hired boy who works for my Uncle James.”

  “Well, why did he bring you in his buggy?” Betty asked.

  “Because Lavina is sick, and I mean it, Betty—my sister Emma is so sick she passed out on the floor. And she has to go to the doctor, and—” Lizzie paused for emphasis. “I guarantee she’s going to get a shot.”

  Sarah and Betty gasped. They ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed.’ Lizzie went on to tell them how hot Emma’s arm had felt and Teacher Sylvia heard her. She smiled to herself. To think this assured young girl was the same one who cried for days in singing class when she first arrived. You could never tell, that was one thing sure.

  · · · · ·

  Lizzie closed her spelling book and put it in her desk. She put her pencils and eraser carefully in her little plastic pencil box. As the pupils took turns to get their hats, bonnets, and coats, Lizzie wondered when the hired boy with his open buggy would come to take her home. She was looking forward to another ride in the buggy.

  She went along when her row was called, grabbing her lunchbox from the shelf with one hand, and pulling her bonnet and coat off the hook with the other. She hurried back to her desk, buttoned her coat, and was tying her bonnet securely as they all stood to sing their ‘goodbye’ song. Everyone rushed out the door when Teacher Sylvia tapped the bell.

  “How are you going home, Lizzie?” Betty asked her worriedly.

  “Oh, I guess Uncle James’s hired boy will soon be here. I’ll just wait here on the porch,” Lizzie answered.

  “Okay. See you tomorrow!” Betty ran backwards, waving as she went. “Bye! See you!”

  “Bye!” Lizzie answered. She sat down on the concrete porch and let her legs dangle over the side. She kicked her heels against the hard concrete and watched for a buggy. Everyone was walking home in groups, but it really didn’t bother Lizzie—she knew the hired boy would soon be here.

  She opened her lunchbox to see if there was anything left to eat. Only her apple, because Lizzie didn’t really like apples. Especially not the sour ones, and this one looked like the kind that would pucker her mouth horribly. So she closed her lunchbox, kicked her heels again, and wriggled around a bit on the hard concrete so she would be more comfortable.

  Inside the schoolhouse, Teacher Sylvia tackled an unusually large amount of workbooks to be corrected. It had really been a trying day, and she sent a prayer heavenward for strength and patience to cope with other days such as this one. She had no idea little Lizzie Glick sat on the porch, patiently waiting for her ride.

  Lizzie was thoroughly tired of waiting. She wondered if it would be alright if she started walking. She knew which side of the road they usually walked on, and if she was very careful, she could walk home.

  Resolutely, she jumped off the porch and started off. Out past the gate, swinging her lunchbox, Lizzie walked down the road at a fast pace. She was only a small black figure, with her bright blue bonnet, and her yellow lunchbox bobbing with every step. She chewed her lip and glanced nervously up and down the road when she reached the crossroad. Turning left, she walked carefully on the gravel beside the road, looking neither left nor right.

  Cars whizzed past, but she kept marching on. She guessed if everyone forgot about her, she’d just have to take care of herself. Emma would be so amazed that she walked home all alone. And she bet Dat would let her drive the pony all by herself if she walked home from school by herself. Actually, she felt quite grownup, so she straightened her back and walked along as tall as she could. The gravel crunched under her feet, and leaves whirled out of the woods beside her. It was getting a bit windy, but Lizzie thought the wind would push her along, because it was blowing against her back.

  When she reached the small town where they lived, a tractor and wagon came putt-putting down the road. Lizzie quickly jumped up on the sidewalk and stopped. She glared at the driver because she thought he was not watching one tiny bit where he was going. He was almost driving on her strip of gravel, and he should be more careful.

  After that, she marched on down the sidewalk until she was almost at their house. She was glad to see Dat’s harness shop sign swinging high up in front of the porch. She waited until two cars passed, then she burst into a fast run, dashing quickly across the road.

  Up the stairs, banging the screen door on the porch, she opened the door and yelled loudly, “Mam!”

  Mam came hurrying into the kitchen. “Shhh! Shh, Lizzie. Emma is finally sleeping. Be quiet.” She held her finger to Lizzie’s mouth, and hugged her with her other arm. “How did you get home, Lizzie?”

  “I walked.”

  “You what?” Mam was incredulous.

  “I walked home.”

  “Not all by yourself, Lizzie! Please don’t tell me you walked home all by yourself!”

  “Yes, I did, Mam.”

  “Why, Lizzie? Why did you do it? Someone could have picked you up!”

  Lizzie looked into Mam’s face, because suddenly she sounded like this was terrible. Mam actually looked very, very frightened.

  “Well, the hired boy who took me to school didn’t come to get me, and I was really tired of waiting, so I walked.”

  “Where in the world was Teacher Sylvia?” asked Mam.

  “Inside, I guess,” Lizzie responded.

  “Ach, my!” Mam plopped onto a chair and covered her face with her hands. “First Emma gets rheumatic fever and then you walk home from school alone. I don’t know if I want to cry or scream!” Mam exclaimed.

  “I made it, Mam. Don’t worry.” Lizzie reached up her chubb
y little hand and patted Mam’s cheek. “Don’t worry, Mam.”

  Tears of relief, mixed with worry, ran down Mam’s face as she gathered Lizzie into her arms. Lizzie felt so secure, so warm and safe, in the circle of her mother’s arms.

  “What is wrong with Emma, Mam?” Lizzie searched her mother’s face, as Mam wiped her eyes with a white handkerchief. She lifted her glasses and wiped her cheeks.

  “Well, Lizzie, it looks as if you’ll have to go to school alone for a long time. She has rheumatic fever, which means she is a very sick little girl. She has to stay in bed for many weeks so her heart doesn’t get damaged by the disease. So you will have to help her at home with her schoolwork, and go to school with Lavina Lapp all by yourself.”

  “You mean she can’t even get out of bed? Not even to eat and go to the bathroom?” Lizzie couldn’t believe what her mother was saying.

  “No, she can walk around a little, but it’s mostly bed rest for her,” Mam said.

  Lizzie sat down on a chair, let her shoulders slump, and felt so lonely and so much like crying. She just sat there for a long time with her coat and bonnet on, staring at the floor and feeling very, very sad. And because Mam just sat there with her, saying nothing, Lizzie guessed she must be sad, too.

  chapter 13

  The Christmas Program

  It was Christmas. Or almost Christmas. Lizzie was studying every day to say her poem for the Christmas program at school. The weather turned colder, snow was in the air, and every day Lizzie asked her mother how long till Christmas.

  Emma still had to stay in bed or on the couch. Her face was pale, and she coughed a lot. Every day she had to take gross-looking medicine. Mam had to take her to the doctor every week, and when they came home, Emma was often so tired, she slept all afternoon.

  Lizzie felt terribly sorry for Emma. She did all the kind things she could think of—at first, anyway. She brought her a tissue, or a cold drink, or even let her have her best tablet and pen for one whole day. They never fought, because Lizzie pitied Emma, having to stay in bed like that.

  But today Lizzie was tired of everything. It was cold—too cold to play outside with Mandy, because Mandy was too little. It was Saturday, so she couldn’t go to school. Emma lay on the couch and looked more bored and gloomy than usual.

  Lizzie thought of her poem that she still did not know quite perfectly. “Emma, help me with my Christmas poem.”

  “No.”

  “Emma, please? I don’t know it very well,” Lizzie said.

  “It makes me tired, listening to you say that dumb poem over and over and over,” Emma rolled on her side, pulled up her blanket, and looked at the back of the couch.

  Suddenly a hot anger welled up in Lizzie. She slid off the chair, walked over to Emma, and slapped her hard on her head.

  “Ow! Ow! Ouch! Oh!” Emma yelled and cried in a loud voice, and all this was followed by a fit of severe coughing.

  Lizzie was filled with fear and terrible remorse. What had she done? Oh, this was truly the most terrible thing she had done to Emma. Amid Emma’s howls and coughs, Lizzie looked wildly to the kitchen and to the top of the stairs that went down to Dat’s harness shop. She knew, with a dreadful certainty, that she had definitely gotten herself into some big trouble.

  She looked at the top of the stairs again, and ran blindly into her room. The only sensible thought was to try to hide somewhere. But where?

  She tried wriggling under her bed, but it was so tight, and there was so much dust, that she wriggled back out again. She could faintly hear Emma’s coughs and her crying. She stood still and listened, her hands clasped against the pounding of her heart. Sure enough, just as she had feared, she heard the steady steps of her father coming up the stairs.

  Looking desperately around her bedroom, Lizzie thought of the closet. Quickly, she yanked open the door and threw herself down in the darkest corner. She winced as the sharp heel of a shoe dug into her stomach. She grabbed the shoe and threw it into the other corner, but she still felt something jabbing at her leg. She pushed a toy away and sat up, circling her knees with her arms to make herself as tiny as possible.

  Now there was nothing to do but sit there as quietly as she could, hoping Emma would quit her loud crying and coughing before Dat heard her. Emma was acting like such a baby since she was sick anyway. Everybody had to be nice, everybody pitied her, and Lizzie was just getting so tired of it.

  She heard Dat’s low voice, then Mam’s higher tone. Emma was still coughing, and Lizzie thought she was doing all that on purpose. Soon she heard Dat calling her name. It was not a pleasant call. It was loud and severe, as if he was not one bit happy about Lizzie slapping Emma.

  Lizzie scooted back a bit farther, her heart beating loudly. It seemed as if Dat could hear her heart, even though she never said one word.

  Dat called again. He was coming closer. Lizzie knew she should get off the closet floor and let Dat know where she was. She just couldn’t, because she knew now without a doubt that she was going to be disciplined. Dat was definitely not happy.

  She wondered if it would help if she came out of the dark closet and told Dat she was sorry. But maybe, just maybe, if she stayed in there, nobody would find her that whole day and maybe into the night. Then they would think someone kidnapped her or she died and they’d all be so glad to see her again, she would never get disciplined again as long as she lived. They would always love her extra much, even if Emma had rheumatic fever. And if Emma screamed and cried they would tell her to be quiet.

  Her thoughts were brought to a halt quite rudely by the closet door being yanked open.

  “Lizzie!” Dat peered into the dark recesses of the closet. “Are you in there, Lizzie?”

  “N-n-no,” Lizzie quavered.

  Dat straightened up and looked away. Lizzie searched his face, and for one moment she thought Dat looked as if he was getting ready to laugh. But he certainly was not laughing when he reached down and pulled Lizzie out of the closet.

  “Lizzie,” he said sternly, “why did you smack Emma like that?”

  “I-I don’t know.” Lizzie said miserably.

  “Lizzie.” Dat was very serious. “You know you girls are not allowed to smack each other at any time, and especially not if Emma doesn’t feel well.”

  Lizzie started crying, mostly because she was so sure Dat would not find her, but he did. And why did she always end up getting in trouble when Emma didn’t?

  Dat sat down on Lizzie’s bed and held her till she stopped crying. “Lizzie, now listen. Emma is sick and that means she doesn’t feel well, so she gets tired easily. She really didn’t want to listen to your poem because she doesn’t feel half as good as you do.”

  Lizzie sniffed. She marched over to the dresser and yanked a tissue out of the box. She blew her nose and wiped it carefully.

  “Dat, it’s always my fault. Why am I always the one to be disciplined, and not Emma?” Lizzie asked.

  “Not always, Lizzie.”

  “Oh, yes. She called my poem stupid,” Lizzie said. “She should be disciplined for that, Dat.”

  Dat sighed. He looked at Lizzie. He thought she did not look very humbled or sorry. She just stood there and looked at him with her straightforward gaze, and he almost flinched under it. Dat sighed again. There was surely a huge difference in Lizzie and Emma, no doubt.

  “Well, Lizzie, we can’t spank Emma for that. Not when she’s sick. Your poem is not stupid; she was just tired, that’s all. Now you must promise me you will never hit Emma on the head again,” Dat said.

  Lizzie bit her lip, and turned back to the tissue box. “I promise,” she said quietly.

  But Dat had an uneasy feeling that her promise was not very sincere.

  · · · · ·

  The snow came down in great white flakes, settling on all the housetops and on every tree. Little puffs of snow flew out from under Red’s feet as he trotted down the road to Lizzie’s school.

  Inside the schoolhouse all the children were
excited. The white sheets were hung across a wire that was stretched along the front of the room. The blackboard was decorated with a manger scene, all done with bright-colored chalk. It was truly the most beautiful thing Lizzie had ever seen, and she could not wait until Dat and Mam came to school today to see it.

  There were paper candy canes with different-colored ribbons on the windows. Every wall was decorated with Christmas art. Poinsettias in colorful foil-covered pots stood on Teacher Sylvia’s desk. Paper snowflakes dangled from strings taped to the ceiling, and when the door opened, they all danced merrily.

  Today was the Christmas program at Lizzie’s school. Everyone wore their prettiest red or green dress, and their Sunday shoes if their sneakers were too worn out. Lizzie wore her Sunday shoes, because Mam said she was allowed to. She felt very dressed up, and tried hard not to spill any juice from her lunchbox on her black Sunday apron.

  She stood by the window and watched the pretty snowflakes coming down from the sky. Every horse and buggy that came through the gate was not her Dat and Red. So she watched the snowflakes, occasionally peering down the road for their horse.

  There they came! Lizzie’s heart swelled with excitement. This one was Red! He trotted swiftly, his head held high, and when Dat pulled up to the schoolhouse, he pranced on his feet, because he wanted to run some more.

  Lizzie went to the door when Mam came in, carrying Mandy. “Hi, Mandy! Come, Mandy. Mam, give her to me. Come, Mandy.”

  Lizzie was fairly dancing around them both, until Mam laughed and looked at some of the other mothers. “Nothing quite like a Christmas program to get the children excited, is there?” she asked Betty’s mother, who laughingly agreed. While the mothers found their seats, Lizzie took Mandy’s hand and showed her all the pretty things on the walls.

  The schoolroom slowly filled up as all the parents found a seat. Some English people that Lizzie did not know came in, too, and Teacher Sylvia found a seat for them. Lizzie guessed she must know them, because she was talking to them and smiling a lot.

  After Teacher Sylvia had helped everyone be seated, she tapped a bell lightly, and everyone quieted down instantly. She told all the pupils to go behind the curtain and to be really quiet, please.