Big Decisions (3 page)

“Emma, you are genuinely talented at baking,” Lizzie said sincerely.

“And having baby boys!” Mandy added, scooping up Baby Mark and squeezing him affectionately.

When Joshua came into the kitchen followed by John and Stephen, there were no awkward moments, no times of feeling ill at ease. That was just how it was when you went to Emma and Joshua’s place, Lizzie thought happily. They both loved to have company and made you feel so welcome and relaxed. Maybe it was because Emma was her sister, but whatever the reason, Lizzie loved to go visit them.

They all sat around the kitchen table as Joshua put on the teakettle for hot water. He drank black instant coffee almost continuously throughout the evening—that boiling hot, dark brown, bitter brew that Lizzie could positively not enjoy. She had often tried to drink coffee like Mam did. She tried it with milk, with sugar, with cream and sugar, but no matter how many attempts she made, it just wasn’t good. Stephen drank coffee, too. He seemed to enjoy it as much as Joshua did, telling Lizzie he filled a quart thermos with it every morning.

That’s why Lizzie found it so fascinating to watch Joshua enjoy his coffee. It was steaming hot, so he would sit back in his chair and stir it for awhile, talking and laughing easily until the coffee cooled enough for him to take the first sip. That black awful stuff.

Emma carefully arranged the cake rolls on a cut-glass oblong tray, putting a sharp stainless steel knife beside it. Her cheeks flushed, she scurried back and forth between the refrigerator and the pantry, slicing cheese and arranging Ritz crackers around it. She poured tall glasses of ice-cold peppermint tea and opened a bag of pretzels, placing them in a dish that matched the oblong tray.

“We don’t go to town often,” she said breathlessly, “so we can’t serve a lot of fancy things like Pepsi and other snacks.”

“Emma, that wouldn’t seem like being at your house,” Lizzie said. “It seems homier and ‘farmier’ with the food you have.”

Emma gave Lizzie an appreciative look, glancing a bit nervously at Stephen and John.

“Don’t worry about me. We live very simply at my house,” Stephen said.

Lizzie was so proud of Stephen she could have hugged him, but of course she didn’t. That was a very nice thing to say, making Emma feel comfortable with the fact that her food was just right exactly the way it was. Emma continued to dash between the table and the counter top, making everyone comfortable, seeing that they had everything they needed, until Joshua told her to sit down and relax or the cake rolls would be all gone before she could enjoy a slice of them.

“Maybe I had better before Lizzie eats all of them!” Emma said, teasing her.

“I could eat the whole thing,” Lizzie said seriously.

Joshua’s eyes sparkled as he turned to Stephen. “You sure you want to marry her? She may turn out to be expensive!”

“Joshua!” Lizzie cried, horrified.

Stephen thought it was very funny, although his face definitely deepened in color. Lizzie knew her face was bright red, but everyone laughed so genuinely, and Stephen gave her such a reassuring look, that Lizzie could laugh with them. The exchange broke all the reserve they had left, and as the evening wore on they had a genuinely good time playing their favorite card game, Rook.

Lizzie decided during the evening that being married to someone you loved was a very worthwhile goal. It was an exciting idea, one that made her feel happy through and through. She wanted her very own home so she could have her friends over and serve them all her good food, although she knew without a moment’s hesitation that it wouldn’t be homemade cake rolls like Emma made. She could barely bake a decent chocolate chip cookie.

She sat back in her chair, watching Stephen shuffle the Rook cards. She wondered a bit apprehensively if he could be a good husband and father, and if he had enough common sense to make good solid decisions and protect her. He could be very grown up, especially when he talked about his work, so that Lizzie was sometimes in awe of him. But he could also be hopelessly funny at times, acting as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

He turned to smile at her, that secret little gesture of belonging, and Lizzie’s heart melted in gratitude that he was her boyfriend. Probably there was no such thing as an absolute, 100 percent, perfect boyfriend, and so far, Stephen was everything she had hoped for.

“No, I’m planning on buying the herd in a few months,” she heard John say.

Lizzie snapped to attention, her eyes riveted intently on John’s face. She watched Mandy as she blinked her huge green eyes, listening carefully.

The herd! He meant cows! Oh, poor Mandy.

“How many are you planning to milk?” Joshua asked, bending for yet another sip of coffee.

“Around 40, hopefully,” John answered.

Forty cows!

“Who in the world is going to help you milk 40 cows?” Lizzie blurted out.

“My brother will help me get started. Then we’ll see,” he said, turning to scoop up the Rook cards.

Lizzie’s eyes narrowed as she watched Joshua’s slow grin spread across his face.

“You need a wife,” he said, smiling broadly.

Emma and Lizzie exchanged knowing glances and hid their smiles. Mandy cleared her throat nervously and quickly grabbed a pretzel, chewing rapidly.

“Looks as if his wife got hungry for a pretzel very suddenly,” Stephen said slowly.

Mandy drew back her arm and threw a pretzel, hard, hitting Stephen’s face. He ducked, grimacing, and laughed with Joshua at John and Mandy’s discomfort.

Everyone laughed then and settled down to a serious discussion about courtship and marriage. It was no wonder you wanted to get married when you were at Emma and Joshua’s house, Lizzie decided. They portrayed marriage as one of the greatest ideas God ever invented. Joshua could go on and on about the merits of living with Emma. He didn’t try to hide the fact that she was one of the best things that had ever happened to him, and the time he spent on the farm with his wife were the best days of his life. Emma beamed and smiled, naturally basking in the warm words of praise from her husband.

“Surely, though, there are some things that you would change. Surely you’re not always blissfully happy every day,” Lizzie broke in, always the pessimist.

Joshua shrugged. “I wouldn’t know what!”

“Me neither,” Emma said softly.

“Come on. Not one thing?” Lizzie asked.

“Oh, maybe little things like not frying the cornmeal mush exactly as crispy as I like it,” Joshua laughed.

“Or watching you eat chocolate cake in your oatmeal,” Emma said, smiling.

“What?”

“Oh, he fixes a dish of oatmeal like ordinary people with sugar and milk, then he plops a piece of chocolate cake in the middle, stirs it up, and eats the whole mess,” Emma said.

“Now that is definitely different,” John said.

“You want to taste it? I’ve been eating it for years. It’s so good it’s habit-forming, like coffee. Tell you what, I’ll make you some.”

With that, Joshua got up and opened a drawer, selected a small saucepan, filled it with water, and settled it on the stove.

By the time the evening was over, they had all had a taste of warm oatmeal with chocolate cake stirred into it. The group gave Joshua’s concoction mixed reviews. Stephen liked it, and John grudgingly pronounced it edible. Mandy turned up her nose, but then that was Mandy, skinny thing, about most food, Lizzie decided. Lizzie loved it but didn’t really elaborate on the fact, mostly because it was embarrassing the way all food tasted delicious to her.

When it was time to leave, Lizzie wished the evening wasn’t over yet. She loved spending time with Joshua and Emma and told them so.

“You need to invite us again,” she said, as Emma hugged her tight.

On the way home, Lizzie sincerely hoped the longing to be married had settled squarely into Stephen’s heart and would not let him rest.

“W
HAT REALLY GETS TO
me the most,” Lizzie said, waving her arms for emphasis, “is why does a covering have to be a certain size, or an apron belt a certain width? What does that have to do with your soul?”

Her sister, Mandy, didn’t say anything, just rearranged the driving reins in her hands as she guided Bess, their horse, toward the small grocery store. Lizzie slumped in her seat as the buggy climbed the hill. That was typical of Mandy, not saying much when she wasn’t really sure of herself.

Lizzie and Mandy were about to become members of the Amish church. It was a time of learning for Lizzie, of truly seeing for herself what it meant to be
gehorsam
, or obedient. It wasn’t all roses. Not even close.

When they reached the small village of Knobstown, Mandy pulled Bess to a stop. The sisters jumped out of the wagon and tied Bess to the hitching rack before going into the small grocery store.

“How are the girls?” Mr. Tibbs called out, his blue eyes twinkling behind his heavy eyeglasses. His plaid flannel shirt was stretched tightly across his round little stomach, his short fingers ringing up an order as swiftly as any cashier in town.

Mr. and Mrs. Tibbs, who ran the little friendly and efficient store, were always happy to see the “Amish kids,” as they called them.

“We’re fine,” Lizzie said, smiling back at him.

“Speaking for your sister, too?” he called, winking jovially at Mandy.

“Same here,” Mandy grinned.

“Good! Good!”

He leaned forward, his palms down on the counter, and asked what he could get for them.

“Mam has quite a list here, so it’ll take a while,” Lizzie told him.

After the two grocery bags were filled and the items paid for, Lizzie and Mandy each chose an ice cream bar to eat on the way home, even though the weather was bitterly cold. They took big bites of their ice cream as the buggy wound down the hill toward home, Lizzie holding Mandy’s bar between bites so she could drive Bess.

Mandy giggled, telling Lizzie that she was getting some strange looks from passing motorists. Lizzie sat on the spring wagon seat with an ice cream bar in each hand, while Mandy, the skinny one, was driving and had none.

“You mean, I look like I eat all the food away from you? Mandy!”

They drove on in companionable silence until Lizzie brought up the subject that was troubling her.

“Mandy, why do the ministers make such a big deal about the smallest things?” she asked.

“Lizzie, just be quiet. I don’t understand everything fully. We probably won’t until we live to be a ripe old age. You make the biggest fuss about all this. What is your problem with changing some things? You don’t want to comb your hair fancy after you’re married anyway. Nobody does.”

Lizzie thought Mandy was being awfully short with her. She had to talk when something troubled her. Mandy knew that was a vital part of Lizzie’s well-being, bringing things out in the open and discussing what lay so heavily on her heart.

“Oh, all right, Miss High and Mighty. I apologize for disturbing Her Majesty’s peace,” Lizzie said, turning to look squarely at Mandy.

There was no response, only a faraway expression as Mandy looked at Bess’s ears.

“Grouch!” Lizzie finished, before turning away to watch the scenery in the opposite direction.

When they brought the groceries into the kitchen, Mam smiled and examined every item before putting it in the pantry or refrigerator. Lizzie made herself a cup of peppermint tea, sat down at the kitchen table, and stared into space. Mandy went straight to her room, with only a few short words to Mam.

Mam lifted her eyebrows.

“What’s wrong with Mandy?” she asked.

“I don’t know. She was not very nice about my questions on the way home.”

“What questions?” Mam asked, sighing as she straightened her covering.

“Oh, just this
ordnung
thing. Joining church.”

Mam’s eyes narrowed as she watched Lizzie’s face closely. “What now?” she asked.

“What does being plain have to do with your soul?” Lizzie burst out miserably.

“Well, Lizzie, obedience to the rules of the church is an outward sign of a change on the inside,” Mam said.

Lizzie snorted.

Mam sighed.

“You know a humble spirit is the surest sign of a change in your heart,” Mam said. “You want to do what’s right, Lizzie. That’s why you’re joining the church and no longer rebelling against God. After you’re baptized, you’ll no longer live for yourself and your selfish will, but you’ll have started on a journey where God is your Master. Now it’s up to you to lead a new and obedient life.”

Lizzie sighed. Mam made it sound so easy.

“So, Lizzie, if you can’t be
gehorsam
in small things, how can you expect to be willing to obey God in bigger things?” she concluded.

“You mean that’s what it’s all about?” Lizzie asked.

“Yes. In a way it seems that church rules are all man-made things that God doesn’t care about, but if you look at it in a spiritual sense, they aren’t.”

“What about English people, Mam? How come they can get to heaven so easily and never have to worry about one stitch of their clothes. They polish their fingernails, wear all kinds of beautiful clothes, use make-up, and do their hair, and they never have to worry about obedience and solemnly joining a church with a bunch of rules.”