Big Decisions (18 page)

“Lizzie, I can’t believe you’re going to live in this groundhog hole,” she said.

Lizzie stopped in her tracks, truly insulted.

“It’s not a groundhog hole!” she protested.

“I know,” Mandy smiled. “It’s just …”

“Not finished!” Lizzie completed the sentence rapidly.

Mandy laughed.

Mam didn’t think Mandy’s twins should be in the new house. Susan and KatieAnn kept them in the farmhouse so Mandy could be with Lizzie. The sisters worked side by side down to the last detail, hanging curtains over the small windows and putting a new tablecloth and place mats on the table, before they all trooped down the hill for Mam’s late dinner of chicken stew and dumplings.

Halfway through dessert, Lizzie could hardly swallow because of the lump in her throat.This was it. This was truly it. She would never live at home again with Mam and Dat in the old farmhouse with the new addition and Mam’s porch filled with “cheraniums” in the wintertime, all kinds of seedlings and transplants in the spring, and bountiful houseplants in the summer.

Now who would mow the grass and trim along the flower beds? That had been her job as long as she could remember, although Susan and KatieAnn had begun to do a lot of the mowing the previous summer. It certainly wasn’t Mam’s job. She never mowed lawn. She cooked and baked, cleaned the kitchen counter, tended her flowers and quilted, and the girls did the remainder of the work.

It wasn’t that the family couldn’t survive without Lizzie’s help, she knew. It was just sad to think that it was all over now. Her new life with Stephen would begin this evening when they were all alone in the funny little unfinished basement on the hill behind the farm. Lizzie looked up to see Mandy gazing intently in her direction. She lowered her eyes, willing herself to finish this last piece of butterscotch pie.

In Mam’s wise way, she opened the subject when the men returned to the new house and Lizzie stayed to help with the dishes. Dumping leftover applesauce into a Tupperware container, she turned to face Lizzie.

“So, this is it for you, huh?”

Blinking rapidly, Lizzie answered. “I suppose so.”

“Well, it’s the way God intended, Lizzie,” Mam said, sighing a bit as she wiped the container where she had spilled some of the applesauce. “He didn’t mean for us to be tied to our mother’s apron strings after we reach a certain age. Nature, the animals, everything God created, has its times and seasons. Birds leave the nest, baby calves are weaned, and on and on.”

“I know, Mam, but I just hate to think of this part of my life being over. All the closeness we shared as sisters …”

“I know exactly what you mean, Lizzie,” Mandy broke in. “And let me give you a bit of sisterly advice. Prepare yourself, because marriage isn’t all roses, no matter how much you love your husband. I’ll never forget the almost overwhelming nauseas before the twins were born, and …”

She giggled, holding a hand to shield her eyes for a minute. “I mean it, when I think back to those first months! What a baby I was—upstairs crying, wanting desperately to be home again, just wanting to be one of Melvin Glick’s girls again, and poor John was downstairs eating cold sandwiches for supper. All alone! Oh, how horrible.”

Mam threw her head back and laughed long and genuinely. Taking off her glasses, she wiped her eyes, still shaking with silent laughter, and said, “Ach my, Mandy. I remember that very same feeling. It’s all a part of life, of growing up and learning to become a more mature person.”

Lizzie leaned back in her chair and glared at both of them. “You think it’s funny, Mam. Well, I don’t. And I’m not going to have one moment like that. Stop talking such things. It gives me the blues.”

“All right, Lizzie. But really, it isn’t all roses and sunshine, just like Mandy said. You’ll have days when you wonder why you ever got married in the first place.”

“I don’t believe that,” Lizzie said staunchly. “I refuse to think that could be possible. You just weren’t … well, maybe you didn’t love John the way you should have.”

Mam’s eyebrows went straight up, followed by Mandy’s, and they had a genuine, “She’ll learn” look between them. Lizzie was so angry that she got up and said it was time for her to go back up to the house. So much for a tearful farewell, she thought, as she stalked up the hill into her little basement that promised to be a haven of pure marital bliss.

A
COLD FREEZING RAIN
poured from leaden skies, driving in from the east in long, wet slashes against the small basement window as Lizzie pinned her cape once again for another visit. This evening they would be going to visit Elmer and Malinda Esh, a young couple who rented a farmhouse about six miles away. Lizzie looked forward to the evening since the Eshes were not much older than they were.

She was grateful for a good woolen shawl and the bonnet that afforded some protection from the freezing rain as she climbed into the buggy.

“Whew!” she gasped. “This weather!”

Stephen nodded.

“I’m worried about leakage in the basement, no spouting on the house, and the cement blocks offset the way they are, for bricks. I just hope the ground will contain the seepage.”

“Oh, it’ll be all right,” Lizzie said airily.

“I’m not so sure,” Stephen replied.

“Well, what’s the worst that could happen? Some water on the floor that will surely go down the drain?” Lizzie asked.

Stephen didn’t reply, only grunted, so she remained silent, although the thought of rain water coming into the basement made her bite down hard on her lower lip. Her eyes darted nervously to the rain streaming against the buggy windows.

She forgot the pelting rain, the basement home, or anything worrisome after she entered the cozy farmhouse kitchen and found the table set with Malinda’s prettiest dishes. The only light in the dining room came from real candles burning in their delicate holders.

Oh, but that was just about the classiest thing Lizzie had ever seen! She clasped her hands in front of herself excitedly. How romantic for newlyweds to eat by candlelight, which was always flattering to anyone’s looks. The imperfections of your face were well hidden by the small amount of light candles afforded.

The food was delicious, although it was different, without the usual meat and potato fare. Lizzie enjoyed the evening tremendously, eating too much as usual, promising herself that she would do much better at the next meal.

Their wedding gift was a Tupperware pitcher, something new, with a lid that sealed so you could shake the liquid inside without it leaking out. Lizzie thought it was a wonderful new invention to be able to mix a drink without having to stir it with a spoon. Iced tea mix would no longer settle on the bottom of a container because you could keep shaking it at intervals, and the sugar would always be mixed through. Before this, you ended up with watered-down iced tea at first, and then tea that was much too sweet when the pitcher was almost empty.

When the evening was over, Lizzie dashed through the rain and scrambled quickly into the buggy, slamming the side door shut with all her strength before wrapping the blue and green blanket securely across her lap. She watched Stephen’s face as he frowned at the streams of icy water cascading down the window of the buggy.

“Still no let up,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

“No. It’s been raining like this for …”

“All day,” Stephen broke in.

He urged George forward, and they went flying along, homeward bound. Lizzie was glad to go home to their own little house, even if it was unfinished. As usual, they took the team down to her parents’ farm, because there was no barn on their property yet. Stephen asked if she wanted to be dropped off at their house, but she shook her heard no, assuring him she could run up the hill through the rain as well as he could. They ran through the downpour together and arrived at the basement door, gasping for breath, completely soaked. Stephen turned the knob and unlocked the door, stepped inside, and stopped.

“What?” Lizzie squeaked.

Then she heard it. A decided splashing sound where Stephen stepped. Oh, no! Her heart escalated to her throat before banging way down to the pit of her stomach, spreading fear and anxiety through her. Water! Water everywhere! Her new furniture, the sofa, the recliner. Everything would be ruined, of this she was positive.

“Oh, Stephen!” she wailed, absolutely heartsick. “Where is all this water coming from?”

“Just be quiet!” Stephen almost shouted at her.

Lizzie was horrified. Water, cold rain water, spread across the entire floor, swirling beneath her new sofa and recliner, swishing along the table and new chairs, and now Stephen was yelling at her, clearly angry just because she squeaked one frightened little question.

It was pitch dark in the basement, but Lizzie knew she needed to find a pack of matches to light the gas lamp. Flashlights! That was the answer, but by the time she had sloshed over to the cupboard, Stephen had already found one, which by the sound of his muttering, wasn’t cooperating.

“Doesn’t that one work?” she managed, in a tiny voice.

There was no answer; only the sound of a flashlight being hurled against the unpainted cement block wall, accompanied by Stephen’s frustrated accusation that she had lost all the flashlights.

That did it. Lizzie felt the anger course through her body, followed by a rush of adrenaline. She stopped in the middle of the wet basement, curled her hands into fists, and took a deep breath.

“I didn’t touch your precious flashlight!” she yelled, “So don’t go blaming me for everything that goes wrong!”

“There were two flashlights against the left cupboard wall. Now there’s only one, and it doesn’t work.”

“I didn’t use it!” Lizzie screeched.

There was only a resounding “Humph” from Stephen, and Lizzie became so angry she wished she had a flashlight to throw at him. All right, if that’s how he was going to be, she’d just stand there with the water sloshing around her, slowly seeping between the leather layers of the soles of her Sunday shoes and soaking her feet with a miserable, cold wetness. She knew where the matches were, but she wasn’t going to tell him. Let him figure it out.

Which, of course, he did. He rummaged around in a few drawers before sloshing over to the table and lowering the gas lamp that hung above it. Striking two matches, he heated the mantles until they ignited. Brilliant yellow light illuminated the entire basement as he carefully hung the lamp on the hook suspended from the ceiling joist.

Lizzie looked around very slowly, hardly daring to look at Stephen, knowing he was angry. A significant amount of water covered almost the entire floor. Water seemed to still be entering the basement through the east wall, where rain continued to pelt against the house. Lizzie felt panic rising in her throat. They couldn’t even begin to sop up the water with towels and buckets. They’d be working the entire night.

“Stephen, what are we going to do?” Lizzie asked, wringing her hands in despair.

“Open the drain, for one thing,” he said shortly, grabbing the broom and flipping it upside down as he searched for the drain opening.

Oh, that was it! They had a drain! Of course! All the water would run down the drain pipe, out into the yard and down the hill. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? Why, of course. They would have a clean, dry basement in no time.

She almost cried when Stephen bent down and pulled at the top of the drain, and she heard a distinct gurgling sound as water began to flow down the new pipe. She watched in awe as a little whirlpool of water formed above it, the water continuing its spiral down this wonderful little outlet. Never had there been a sweeter sight in her entire life. Her new furniture wouldn’t be ruined after all.

“Oh, Stephen, it’s going down!” she breathed happily.

“Yeah, but more is coming in along that back wall, so don’t get too excited.

“You mean … you mean, it’s still coming in?”

“Of course. As long as it continues to rain like this, it’ll come down through those offset blocks. There’s no spouting on the house, remember?”

Lizzie nodded miserably.

“You can start sweeping some of the water toward the drain awhile. I’ll set up the things we can lift out of the water.”

He started picking up the new kitchen chairs and placing them upside down on the table top, while Lizzie reached for the broom and began sweeping water towards the drain from the farthest corner. The water kept up its swirl down the lovely little drain. They didn’t speak, just worked silently, each one doing what had to be done at the moment. Lizzie swept as if her very life depended on how much water went down that drain. When she reached the bedroom, she couldn’t stop the wail that threatened to turn into a torrent of genuine little girl tears.

“My bedroom suit! My new bedspread!” she wailed. “Stephen, I mean it, everything will be ruined!” she cried.

“Not if we get it dried out as fast as we possibly can,” Stephen answered, “The only problem is the water is still coming in.”

“How … long do you think it will keep raining?” Lizzie asked, her mouth dry with anxiety.

“How would I know?” Stephen answered brusquely.