Big Decisions (8 page)

Stephen looked at Lizzie, and she nodded her head eagerly.

“All right,” he said.

“Let me get my hat,” Dat said on his way to the kitchen.

“You sure you’re not too tired?” Stephen asked when Dat returned.

“Nah.”

Lizzie smiled to herself, thinking how self-assured and confident Dat sounded. He probably felt proud to be able to be Stephen’s benefactor, the person who made it possible for them to build a house. He was all excited, waving his arm for emphasis as he talked almost continuously while they walked behind the barn and up over the alfalfa field adjoining the pasture behind it.

“Yes, it spites me not to be able to farm this land anymore, but I guess it’s like Annie says. If you’re not cut out to be a farmer, you never will be one. I guess that’s me. I still can’t figure out what happened, but the cows died, we had dry weather, and in no time flat, we were struggling to keep our heads above water. Then I got this MS, and I knew it was time to give it up.”

Stephen nodded.

“Another thing. Not farming makes me grateful for my job, too. A farmer never gets done. He just quits in the evening, and the way my legs are now, I can relax in the evening when I come home. Now, here. Right about here.”

Dat stopped, waved his arm, and asked, “What do you think?”

They stood in the middle of an alfalfa field on top of a rounded slope that led gently down to the small country road below. There were three new ranch-style houses out farther along this road, but a good distance from where they stood. There was a field across the road, a low one that led to the creek and was filled with small locust trees.

Stephen looked around without saying anything. Lizzie was so thrilled, she was afraid if she said anything at all, it would break this wonderful, too-good-to-be-true feeling of standing on this hill, thinking this would be the exact spot where her new house would be. So she didn’t say anything.

“It looks all right,” he said finally. That was all. Just that.

So Dat started talking again, waving his arms while Stephen smiled. Lizzie wrapped her arms tightly around herself and took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders as she did so. The sun was setting behind the distant mountain, casting the green hillside in a soft orange glow. Birds twittered in the brush, and a car passed slowly on the road below, the driver honking his horn softly as he waved to someone in the lawn.

How perfect! How absolutely unbelievable! Mam and Dat lived just down over the hill and would always be there for them if they needed them. There were English neighbors to the right of their acre, and their house would be on a hill overlooking a sweeping little woods and fields.

What kind of house would Stephen build? Would they agree on the size, the color, the layout? Well, of course, they would. She was so happy to have a brand-new house of her own, she would let Stephen do exactly as he pleased. Yes, she would. Surely good intentions, coupled with a sense of pure happiness, would be sufficient for her to be a quiet, submissive wife. Lizzie’s thoughts swirled around in her head, and she vowed to be everything she should be for Stephen, very much the same as counting a flock of chickens before they are hatched.

L
IZZIE PULLED ON THE
reins, pressing her lips together to make a buzzing sound.

“Come on, Bess, hurry up,” she said aloud as she sat alone in the buggy on her way to John and Mandy’s farm.

She didn’t want to push good, old, faithful Bess too hard, as the morning was already warm, and she still had about half the distance to cover.

She could hardly wait to see dear Mandy again, so the drive down to their farm seemed twice as long as usual.

Route 842 wound across the rolling countryside and past large dairy farms and chicken houses. Some of them were homes where Amish people lived, and when she saw someone at the wash lines hanging out laundry, she smiled and waved.

The cornfields looked richly green with young tender stalks standing about as high as a person. She wondered if there would be sufficient rainfall, since Cameron County land with its deep shale deposits tended to lose its moisture faster than some areas. She hoped sincerely, for John and Mandy’s sake especially, that God let lots of rain fall on the cornfields, and the alfalfa fields as well, so their dairy farm could prosper and give them a good start financially.

She was grateful all over again that Stephen was not a farmer. She was afraid she couldn’t stand the suspense of not knowing if it would rain enough to grow a decent crop to feed the cows so they could make their farm payment. Wouldn’t it just be sickening to stand outside hanging up clothes week after week, while the corn curled its leaves and changed in color from a brilliant, healthy green to an olive-colored dryness, and you knew that was your profit?

She was afraid her nerves would not be able to hold up under such a strain, so it was very good she was marrying Stephen and that Mandy was married to John. Probably she’d snap, almost like losing her mind but not quite, and do a rain dance in the front yard, which would look awfully suspicious. She grinned to herself. She wondered what Mandy would say when she told her about Stephen asking her to marry him and about the new house.

“Come
on
, Bess,” she hollered, slapping both reins down hard on the poor, unsuspecting horse’s rump. Startled, Bess took a few fast steps, then settled down to her usual slow, steady trot. Lizzie sighed. She didn’t know why Dat didn’t let her drive Red, his fiery sorrel gelding. They had a horse named Red when she was a small child, and now Dat owned a horse almost like him and had named him Red. Lizzie begged Dat to let her drive him to Mandy and John’s house, but the answer was always the same. Her arms weren’t strong enough. No. So here she sat, watching the cornfields and thinking of rain to while away the time, as Bess hung her head straight out like a cow and took her good old time getting there.

Finally, at the bottom of a sloping hill, “Bigler Road” appeared on a flat green road sign, and Lizzie tugged slightly on the left rein. Only a mile anymore, and she would top the familiar little rise before the road sloped down to Mandy and John’s farm.

A small, red-brick house was situated under towering maple trees with two barns behind it. John had built the new round-roofed dairy barn next to the old structure, but both were painted red, so the new one looked as if it had always been there, really. There was an implement shed on the left, opposite the house, and various corncribs and other outbuildings here and there.

Lizzie looked appreciatively at Mandy’s neatly mown grass and the growth of new petunias arranged neatly around the flower beds. Mandy was a good little worker, she surely was, Lizzie noted happily. That was all the time she had to think anything, because the door of the brick house was flung open and skinny little Mandy appeared, her smile stretched across her face as far as it could go.

“Lizzie!” she yelled in a tone of voice that conveyed gladness and disbelief at the same time.

Lizzie leaned forward as far as she could, as if that would get her there sooner.

“Surprised you, didn’t I?” she called, savoring this moment she had been waiting for.

Bess stopped, and Lizzie hopped out of the buggy as Mandy ran to meet her.

“Oh, Lizzie, I’m so-o-o glad to see you. I didn’t have real homesickness—not really. I just wished so much one of you would come see me today or tomorrow, because I’m not really busy this week.”

Mandy helped her unhitch Bess, chattering happily as they led her to the water trough for a long drink. Barn swallows swooped and chirped about the forebay, as Lizzie looked around at the almost, but not quite, finished barn.

“John still busy?” she inquired.

Mandy was tying Bess in a new box stall, but Lizzie could hear her sigh as she said, “I mean it, Lizzie, he works all the time, constantly, steadily, except to eat his meals.”

Together they walked back to the house, and Lizzie admired her neat lawn.

“Of course, you know it was you and me that kept our yard looking nice, so what would you expect?” Mandy said, batting her long, thick eyelashes.

Lizzie slapped her arm playfully.

“
Gros-feelich
, are we?” she laughed.

“Just a little.”

After touring Mandy’s house, which was small, but filled with new furniture and pretty accessories, Lizzie pronounced it the cutest, homiest farmhouse she had ever seen.

“Do you like it?” Mandy asked, clasping her hands together eagerly.

“Oh, I love it, Mandy. It’s so cute, it’s almost like a little doll house.”

“We’re going to need an addition built on if we have children, though.”

They settled on Mandy’s new sofa facing each other, Mandy with her blue dress smoothed over her pulled-up knees, as she always sat. Her thick, heavy brown hair was smoothed back tightly, like married women wore their hair, which only accentuated her large, heavy-lashed green eyes. Lizzie thought she looked better than ever, with a rosy glow on her cheeks, a picture of health and contentment.

“You look so nice, Mandy. Almost beautiful. Marriage becomes you, I suppose. Are you as happy as you look? Like Emma?”

Mandy smiled genuinely. “Of course, Lizzie. There you go again, asking me a million questions in that worried, eyebrow-tilted expression of yours.”

“Well, see, I guarantee you that things can’t be absolutely perfect after you get married. How can you move away from Mam and Dat and Jase and never get homesick, never wish you weren’t married? Mam told us over and over, there’s more to marriage than a happily-ever-after story. And here are you and Emma, acting as if it’s the greatest thing that ever happened to you, living on your farms!”

Mandy laughed long and heartily. “What a pessimist!”

“I’m not!”

“Yes, you
are
!”

Lizzie shrugged and then sat straight up, remembering her big news.

“Hey, Mandy, guess what? Just guess!” Lizzie leaned forward, her gray eyes alight as she searched Mandy’s face.

“You’re getting married!” Mandy said positively, without a doubt.

“How do you know?”

“You told me to guess.”

“Well, guess what else.”

“You’re going to live close to us.”

“No!”

“He’s building a new house for you!”

“Yes! Oh, Mandy, I mean it. Can you just imagine how excited I’ll be? Mam will live just down over the hill from me.”

Mandy clasped and unclasped her knees, trying to remain genuinely happy, but like headlights on a car, she had hit the dimmer switch. Lizzie instantly caught on.

“What? What’s wrong with that? Huh? Your smile kind of melted to a smaller one.”

“No, no, Lizzie. That’s just
great
that you’ll live close to Mam in a new house. I’m really, really, genuinely happy for you.”

Lizzie watched her with narrowed eyes. “That’s not all of it. What is it?”

Mandy picked up a cushion and pulled at a button that was sewn in the middle of its top as if her life depended on it, her head lowered, averting her eyes. Finally, she sighed and looked up, straight into Lizzie’s eyes, honestly. “All right, here goes. It’s just that, well … nothing.”

“Mandy, stop it. If you don’t stop that and tell me what’s on your mind, I’m going to go home.”

“No, don’t. Don’t. All right. Okay. When we were little girls, and Mam bought us something, like a new scarf—actually, it
was
new scarves that I’m thinking of. You
always
and, Lizzie, I mean
always,
got to pick the best color, then me, then, of course, Emma. These three scarves were bright pink, yellow, and a dull green. Guess who got the pink one?”

“Me. I remember,” Lizzie said flatly.

“Okay. See what I mean. You’re used to getting what you want, right?”

“No!” Lizzie protested vehemently.

“I’m just saying you’ve always wanted a new house, and now Stephen is building you one. You never wanted to live far away from Mam, and now you don’t have to. Which is good, but just so you aren’t … aren’t …”

Mandy floundered for the right word, and Lizzie sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Selfish.”

“Yes.”

Mandy said it evenly and meaningfully, not unkindly, just dropping the word like the colored little pill you drop into warm vinegar water to dye Easter eggs. It was only one little word, but it immediately changed the ordinary water into one brilliant with meaning.

“So you think I’m selfish?” Lizzie asked, her eyebrows drawn low, suspiciously.

“Not always, Lizzie. Just sometimes. I’m afraid you’ll be selfish with Stephen. Like expecting him to do everything perfectly and on time, and just … well, Lizzie, marriage is just not for you to sit on a pretty cushion and expect your husband to keep you happy.”

“I know that,” Lizzie spat out, thoroughly riled now.

“I’m sure you do.”

“Well, I do. I don’t care what you say.”

“Let’s not argue,” Mandy said agreeably, gazing unseeingly out the window.

“I’m not arguing, Mandy. I’m not selfish, either. Well, I know what you mean, though. It seems as if I get my own way in lots of things, and that I don’t appreciate it enough but just expect more. I’m sure that’s the way you see me from your perch on top of the Himalayan Mountains with the rest of the little grizzled men who dish out wisdom to us failures!”