by Linda Byler
“Serves them right!” Edna said airily. “They know better than to throw erasers. She’ll probably send a note home for Daddy.”
Lizzie ate her barbecue chips and didn’t say much. For once, there wasn’t much to say, because she felt bad for the boys. It wasn’t completely their fault.
On the way home, Lizzie hung back, because she felt ashamed of Ivan and Ray. They hadn’t said one word to her the rest of the day, so she knew they were unhappy because she had tattled.
She jumped when Danny came up from behind her. He put his mittened hand on her arm and said, “Do you feel bad, Lizzie?”
Lizzie looked down at Danny’s anxious green eyes, peering out from beneath the brim of his straw hat. She shrugged her shoulders miserably.
Danny pulled himself up to his full skinny length. “Well, Lizzie, I’ll tell you one thing; this was a lesson for Ray. You know why?”
“Why?” Lizzie asked quietly.
“’Cause!” He stopped and lifted one knee, propping his lunch against his leg as he opened it.
“Here—you want a Grandpa cookie?” He unwrapped a package of soft, chewy sugar cookies, covered with brown sugar frosting. “You want one?”
“Mm-hmm,” Lizzie answered. She bit into the sweet frosting, smiling at Danny as he smiled back at her. Lizzie’s heart was warmed by his gesture of friendship.
“You know why it’s good for Ray?” he went on.
“Why?”
“Because. You know my rabbits I have?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Well, two of them got out. They can’t open their own doors, mind you—not even close. Well, they got out, and I still think it was Ray. He fed my rabbits that night, because I had to go away with Mom and Daddy. He says it wasn’t him, and Daddy said it wasn’t, and I have to be quiet about it. Well, this proves it; if he doesn’t get caught letting my rabbits go, he gets caught throwing erasers. That’s what he gets,” he said staunchly, taking a huge bite of his Grandpa cookie.
He chewed solemnly, his cheeks bulging, and swallowed, looking closely at Lizzie. “They won’t be mad for long. Ray says you’re a good skater.”
“He did? He said that?”
“Yep!” Danny announced proudly.
So Lizzie was cheered immensely as she finished her walk home from school. She waved good-bye to Danny, thinking how the Grandpa cookie and a bit of praise helped her otherwise difficult day. And, tomorrow she would pack two sandwiches in her lunchbox.
chapter 6
Springtime on the Ridge
Lizzie’s eyes followed a large formation of Canada geese flying in a V across the sky. It was a mellow evening; warm air with a slight breeze was stirring the bare branches of the trees. The buds were showing red, pushing through the little funny-looking knobs that would turn into leaves.
The sound of the geese honking always reminded Lizzie of the playground at school. Everyone talked or shouted a bit differently, yet it was almost all the same. She shaded her eyes with her left hand, squinting as the slanting rays of the sun shone directly into her face.
There was no more skating now, so Lizzie and Mandy had wiped down the silver blades of their skates, put them back in the box, and stored them on the top shelf of the closet. They felt a bit sad, but the warmth of the spring air was wonderful in a different way.
Lizzie turned toward the ridge, which rose behind Uncle Eli’s sawmill and Dat’s pallet shop. It was covered thickly with trees, although one spot almost directly behind the shop looked darker green, so Lizzie wondered if they were all pine trees. She had to talk to Edna about it and ask her if they ever went up to the ridge and explored it.
Lizzie was proud of Dat’s pallet shop. Uncle Eli and the boys had helped Dat, planning and building a long, low building with concrete loading docks. They had gone on trips with a heavy truck, bringing home huge pieces of heavy equipment that cut boards, smoothed them, and cut holes in them—not really holes, but a huge bite out of a board. That piece of machinery was called a notcher. Dat put a board in it and “ka-chunk,” it bit out a piece of the board. Mandy told Lizzie she ate corn-on-the-cob like a notcher, and they laughed until the tears streamed from their eyes.
There was another piece of equipment called a chamfer, which took a smaller, smoother bite. That was so a person who drove a forklift in a warehouse could slide the prongs of the forklift under the pallet easier.
That’s what pallets were for. Huge stacks of boxes were loaded on a wooden pallet in factories or warehouses, and forklifts loaded or unloaded them. Pallets came in all different shapes and sizes, depending on what they were for. Dat was always happy when he had plenty of orders for tractor and trailer loads of pallets. When Lizzie heard a huge truck go past the house, she knew it was either a load of Dat’s pallets or logs for Uncle Eli.
The most fascinating piece of equipment was the large nailing machine. It had steel boxes of nails on the top, which constantly rocked back and forth, allowing only the proper amount of nails to fall through, into the “chucks” or tubes that clunked down on the boards of the pallet to nail one whole row at a time. The girls liked to watch the men nail pallets with this machine, going “ka-chunk, ka-chunk” steadily across it.
The only thing about Dat’s pallet shop that Lizzie didn’t like as well as the harness shop was not being able to help him. There were always men working, so there wasn’t much a girl could do. Sometimes after supper Lizzie would go with Dat to sweep sawdust from under the saws, but she was not allowed to help during the day. Lizzie knew it was because Mam had told Dat in no uncertain terms that the pallet shop was no place for a girl.
Mam was like that. Once her nostrils flared and her cheeks turned red, with her mouth in a straight, firm line, she meant what she said. Lizzie guessed Dat would let her try using the notcher, because it looked so easy. But no, not when Mam acted so bossy. Dat told her she put the foot down. Lizzie knew very well what that meant.
“Lizzie!”
She jumped. “What?”
“You have to hurry up and get that wood carried. Mam isn’t feeling well and there’s all the laundry to get in,” Emma called.
“Well, okay, but you don’t have to startle me so badly,” Lizzie answered.
Emma shut the kitchen door, and Lizzie hurried to the woodpile. This carrying wood gets really boring, she thought sourly. That was one thing about summer—she didn’t need to carry these endless armloads of wood.
The kitchen door opened and Jason came out, wearing a brightly colored head scarf. “I’ll help you!” he said proudly.
“Jase, who put that scarf on you?” Lizzie said laughingly.
“I did. By myself,” he said, grinning.
Lizzie looked at him, wearing a scarf on top of his riot of brown curls. His shirttail was hanging over his blue denim pants, and he wore a pair of Mandy’s bedroom slippers. He shuffled through the wood chips, collecting little pieces of bark and sawdust on the furry pink slippers. He bent over, straining to pick up a large piece of wood.
“U-nnhh,” he groaned.
“You’re too little,” Lizzie said with a smile.
“Ah, no—you watch.” His face turned bright red in color as his arms strained to lift the chunk of wood. He grasped it firmly against his chest, before his feet slid backward on the loose sawdust and he fell, pinching his fingers under the chunk of wood. He cried and yelled, sitting beside the wood, his pants covered with sawdust, the bedroom slippers flung a short distance away. Lizzie kissed his cheek, blowing on his fingers to cool them, murmuring that everything would be alright. She cradled his curly head against her coat, knowing he would stop yelling after a while. Jason was actually quite brave for a three-year-old toddler, Lizzie always thought.
As suddenly as his crying had started, it stopped. He pointed to the driveway and Lizzie turned to see what he wanted to show her. Edna and Danny were hurrying up the drive, their arms swinging in their haste to reach her.
“What are you doing?” Lizzie asked.
&
nbsp; “Do you want to go along with us to explore the ridge behind the pallet shop?” Edna asked, panting.
Lizzie’s eyes grew wide. She could hardly believe Edna was allowed to go by herself. “Edna, are you sure your mom doesn’t care?” she asked hesitantly.
“Not if you and Mandy go!” Danny piped up before Edna had a chance to answer.
“Well . . . I mean, what would we explore? Can you get lost on the ridge?” Lizzie asked.
“Nah,” Danny said confidently. “All it is, is a pine forest and a clearing in the back. We’re not allowed to go farther than the monkey vines.”
“Monkey vines? What in the world is a monkey vine?” she asked, her eyebrows raised in concern.
“Was he crying?” Edna asked, pointing to Jason.
“He fell,” Lizzie answered quickly, before returning to her question about monkey vines.
“I dunno what a monkey vine is. Just a vine that hangs down from the trees, and you back up and run like crazy and fly through the air,” Danny shouted.
“Not so loud, Danny. Lizzie, go ask your mom,” Edna ordered.
So Lizzie opened the kitchen door, pulling Jason along. “You can come in,” she told Edna.
So they all piled into the kitchen, finding Mam sitting on the old swivel rocker, looking tired. Lizzie could tell by the heightened color of Mam’s cheeks that she was not in a very friendly mood. When she didn’t say ‘hello’ to Edna and Danny, Lizzie’s hopes sank, because she knew she would not be allowed to go to the ridge tonight.
Sure enough, Mam started shaking her head before Lizzie finished her sentence.
“No.”
Just flat no, not even an explanation. Lizzie felt her temper rise, and, before she thought about the consequences, she blurted out, “We’re never allowed to do anything in the evening, ’cause you’re always tired and grouchy!”
“Lizzie, now stop it. If you would have gotten the wash in and carried your wood before this, maybe you could go. And don’t talk back to your mother like that,” Mam said tiredly.
“Mam, please—it’s so nice out tonight,” Lizzie whined.
“No!”
And Lizzie knew the subject was over; there was no use. She walked out with Edna and Danny, feeling so embarrassed and sorry for them because she was not allowed to go.
“Your mom’s mad!” Danny breathed.
“Danny! Melvin Annie’s just tired,” Edna corrected him. She turned to Lizzie and adjusted her scarf, jutting her chin forward to tuck the knot in farther.
“Well, now go get your work done, Lizzie, so you can go tomorrow night,” she said.
“Is Debbie allowed to go?” Lizzie asked.
“She probably won’t get home from school in time.”
“Oh.”
“See you!”
“See you.” Lizzie turned dejectedly, walking around to the back of the house to the clothesline. It was hanging full of line after line of dry clothes, rocking gently in the evening breeze.
Tears pricked at her eyelashes as she tied the strings of the pocket apron that contained the clothespins. She jerked on the strings, tying it so tightly she could scarcely breathe. Yanking at a blue towel, she thought how unfair life was. She hadn’t known Edna was going to want to go explore the ridge. How could she have known she was supposed to hurry with the wood?
Staggering under a huge basket of dry towels, Lizzie burst into the kitchen. “Somebody pull out a chair,” she gasped. Mandy hurried to slide one beside the table, and Lizzie plopped the heavy basket on it.
“Whew!”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were getting wash in?” Emma asked, turning from the sink where she was peeling potatoes.
“I can do it!” Lizzie chirped brightly, watching Mam from the corner of her eye. She started folding wash with vehemence, hoping with all her heart it would help her get to the ridge the following evening.
Rain blew across the roof of the little basement home, dripping from the eaves, water gurgling down the spouting. Trees swayed as the April showers came from a dark, dreary sky. Even the yellow dandelions cowered under the deluge, and Lizzie couldn’t tell the difference between the blades of grass and the dandelions.
Her chin was cupped in her hands as she stared across the lawn. They’d just never get to the ridge, she thought darkly. Either there was work to do or the weather was not nice. Now they were living in Jefferson County with all these exciting things to do—and here she sat.
Mandy came over and watched the rain with Lizzie. “It’ll clear up and we can go tomorrow evening,” she offered kindly.
“If Mam doesn’t think of something for us to do, you mean,” Lizzie answered.
“Or Emma.”
“No, Emma doesn’t mind. I talked to her last night. She said the only reason I had to get the wash in was because Mam wasn’t feeling well all day. But we have to carry the wood.”
So the following evening, the wood was carried in double quick time. It was a beautiful evening, even if the wind blew in quick little gusts, chasing old brown weeds and leaves left over from winter. It was one of those days where it seemed like spring, but the wind was determined to put forth a blast of cold north wind, as if to remind people that winter was not yet over.
The wind didn’t bother Lizzie at all, because they could finally go explore the pine woods on the ridge. Mam was feeling better, smiling as she made sandwiches for their lunchbox, because they were taking supper with them.
She put bologna and mayonnaise on one side of the bread, put a thin slice of cheese on top, and added lots of light-colored, crunchy lettuce. Lizzie never tired of those sandwiches, marveling at the fact that they were allowed to have bologna and cheese and lettuce on one sandwich. They were so good.
Mam put two sandwiches in their lunchbox, two apples, and two bags of potato chips. Lizzie was concerned about the fact that there were only two sandwiches, but Mandy said she could easily have half of hers.
So they ran down the driveway, their lunchbox between them. Lizzie could hardly walk fast enough to Uncle Eli’s, so sometimes they ran until she was gasping for breath. Mandy could run a lot longer than Lizzie without running out of breath.
Edna and Danny were ready, charging out the sidewalks, excitement shining from their wide eyes. “Hey, guess what? Ivan and Ray are going along, too!” Danny said.
“No, they aren’t, Danny. Where did you get such a stupid idea?” Edna said, sniffing.
“Oh, yes, they are. After they shut the sawmill down and have supper, they’re going to. Ray said,” he snorted.
Edna shrugged her shoulders.
They started up the hill past the barn, skirting the large piles of logs behind the sawmill. Edna informed them they were never, ever allowed to play on the log piles because if one log rolled, the whole pile could come tumbling down and kill or seriously injure someone. Lizzie remained in awe of those huge piles of logs long after Edna said that.
They had to go up a steep bank, somehow. Danny scrambled up, grabbing handfuls of weeds and digging in his shoes until he made it. He stood on top, looking down at them, eyes shining. He looked doubtfully at Lizzie and Edna, saying, “Mandy can easily make it up here, but I don’t know about you two,” he said.
“Danny, if you don’t stop acting so big, I’m going to stomp on your straw hat!” Edna shouted, glaring at him.
Danny grabbed his straw hat, smashing it down farther on his head, as if that would protect him from Edna’s anger. He adjusted his pants, hitching up his suspenders, and eyed them again. “Well, you’re both pretty good-sized!”
Lizzie was furious. Her weight was a bit of a sore subject lately, because she was going on twelve years old. Somehow, she cared more than she had when she was younger.
“I can get up that steep bank if you did, you skinny little thing,” she told Danny. She stepped back, taking a head start, and charged up the embankment. She easily made it up halfway, but could go no farther. Her feet kept sliding, so she grabbed tufts of weeds, d
igging in the toe of her sneakers. It took every ounce of strength, willpower, and all the pride she had, as puffing and grunting, she clawed her way to the top.
Edna and Mandy cheered before Edna tried. She had a false start at first, but she also made her way up. Mandy grinned, her head thrown back, then she scrambled up, as light and nimble as a deer.
“Good for you, Danny. We made it,” Edna announced triumphantly.
Danny didn’t hear her. He was already headed into the tall, dead brush that bordered the pine forest. Lizzie followed hesitantly, because it looked a bit scary to her. She had never seen brush and weeds that tall, and what if they got lost?
“We need a trail or something we can follow. How do we know where we’ll end up? Or how are we going to know how to come back?” she asked.
“By the time we’re through these weeds, we’ll know where we walked coming back, I’m sure,” Edna said.
“Just follow me,” Danny said airily.
So they did. First they fought their way through the unpleasant brush, jaggers from thornbushes tearing at their coat sleeves. Little bits and pieces of thistle seed and other loose objects that fell from the brush stuck to their eyes and mouths. They snorted, wiping their eyes, trying to get rid of the bothersome things.
“This isn’t fun!” Mandy said emphatically.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Edna demanded.
“We’re almost to the pines!” Danny yelled.
Lizzie pushed her way through the brush, determined not to complain, because she so desperately wanted to see what the ridge looked like. The woods smelled wet, like rain—only the smell was mixed with an earthy scent, much like the garden when Dat plowed it. If she was watching closely, she could see little shoots of green plants pushing through the dead brown undergrowth.
A tiny creature scooted from under a crumbling log. Lizzie shrieked with surprise, grabbing Edna’s sleeve.
“It’s only a chipmunk!” Danny said.
“Oh. Well, how was I supposed to know? I’ve never traipsed around in a woods before!” Lizzie said, indignant because Danny acted as if he was a seasoned traveler in the woods.
