When Strawberries Bloom (13 page)

“Come in!” called a voice.

Stepping inside, she clasped her hands as she greeted the family who was seated around the table, ready to eat their evening meal.

“So, what brings you here? This is a pleasant surprise. Hopefully, you’re not having any discipline problems or anything of that nature,” Jonas said from his place at the head of the table.

“Uh … oh no,” Lizzie said. “I … I … Well, is it too expensive to have a load of gravel or stones of some kind put down at school? The … the playground is simply a mess, and the entrance to the privies is just … well, like a hollowed-out path of chocolate pudding,” she finished.

Jonas Beiler burst out laughing, a sound of deep, rolling mirth that swirled around Lizzie’s spirit, gently lifting and carrying her own thoughts upward. Her hesitant smile widened as she felt the black cloak of despair lifting like curtains on a summer breeze.

“Chocolate pudding! That must be some mud,” Jonas chuckled, looking at his wife who smiled back pleasantly.

“Well, it is a mess. We all kind of peepy-step along the side of the enclosure to keep our feet dry,” Lizzie said.

“Yes, I believe it. That new schoolhouse should have had more gravel put down at the beginning of the term. But you know it’s not just me who makes the decisions, and we have to watch our pennies so the school tuition doesn’t get too high. Let me bring this matter up at our meeting, all right?”

“The next meeting! You mean I have to wait for another month?” Lizzie said, trying vainly to hide her disappointment.

“It’s tonight.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be imposing, but … well, the floor, the porch, everyone’s shoes, it’s just …” Lizzie said.

“It doesn’t surprise me,” Barbara Beiler said. “I told Jonas if we housewives had to put up with that kind of mud, we’d have a fit.”

Lizzie smiled at her. So they did think about it, she thought.

“Well, thank you very much. I just hope the rest of the school board will agree to the cost of a load of gravel,” Lizzie said.

“We’ll see, but I would imagine we’ll do something for you. It probably gets a bit despairing this time of the year.”

“A bit.”

“You sure everything else is all right?” Barbara asked.

“Well, not really, but I think it’s nothing I can’t handle by myself,” Lizzie smiled.

Later at home, after supper was eaten, Mam lingered around the table with Mandy and Lizzie. She put another piece of peach pie on her plate, added a bit of ice cream and said, “Mmm!”

Lizzie grinned at Mam. “I know. That pie is still warm. Did you ever notice how it is with pie and ice cream? You don’t always have quite enough ice cream to finish your pie, then you don’t have quite enough pie to finish your ice cream, and it just goes on and on.”

Mam laughed. “Oh, I know exactly what you mean. I could eat that whole pie!”

The door opened and Dat appeared, his hat pushed down on his head, his hair disheveled as if he’d been running. “Mandy, the phone was ringing. It’s for you,” he said, his voice breathless.

Mandy’s eyes widened in surprise. She started getting up from her perch on the bench. “Who is it?”

“Don’t know,” Dat said, grinning.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Mandy asked.

“She has an awfully gruff voice if it’s a girl,” Dat said.

Mandy shrieked, slapping Dat’s arm as she rushed past him and out the door, running as fast as she could to the end of the drive where the Glick family’s phone was housed in a small building. Amish families in their community kept their telephones outside because they didn’t have electricity or many more modern conveniences in their homes.

Lizzie anxiously peered out the kitchen window after Mandy as she related her miseries to Mam, telling her about the thread of rebellion that was steadily growing among the upper grades and about the amount of gooey mud in the playground. Mam listened attentively, clucking her tongue in sympathy, nodding her head as she agreed with the Lizzie.

Finally, she said, “But Lizzie, you know we can’t expect our children to be respectful if we aren’t being the type of person who earns that respect.”

“Whatever that means,” Lizzie grumbled.

“What I’m saying is … Now, don’t take this as an insult, all right? But you haven’t been too happy yourself lately. I mean, around the house. Especially with the twins. They were playing dolls, and one of them kept slapping her poor baby, saying she was Lizzie.”

Lizzie glanced at Mam sharply. “So?”

“Well, I’m just saying this as nicely as possible. I’m afraid your lack of enthusiasm and happiness in school goes a lot deeper than just the mud or the children’s behavior.”

Lizzie wrung the dishcloth over the sudsy water, turning to wipe viciously at the countertop. Then she straightened, putting her hands on her hips.

“So you think I have this deep depression or something?” she asked.

“No, Lizzie. No, I don’t. It’s just that …”

The door was flung open as if a whirlwind had hit it full force, and Mandy fairly danced into the kitchen. “I have a date!” she shouted, grabbing Lizzie’s hands and whirling her around the room.

“Let me guess!” Lizzie said sarcastically.

“John Zook!” Mam finished for her.

“Yep!”

“Not much of a surprise!” Lizzie said, smiling at Mandy.

“Whew! I need to catch my breath. I’ll faint,” Mandy said, gasping as she folded herself on the bench along the wall. She lifted both hands to flap them in front of her face, as she breathed slowly in and out.

“So, where are you going?” Lizzie asked, trying to sound all excited and not even the least bit envious.

“Guess what? Just guess what? He’s taking me to a really nice sit-down restaurant. Not just to McDonald’s,” she said, batting her eyelashes.

That did it. Lizzie gave in to all her envy and feelings of frustration about her own life, which at the moment was only one insurmountable mountain after another. “What’s wrong with McDonald’s?” she burst out. “If I had my choice, a big hamburger dripping with sauce, ketchup, pickles, onions, and all that good stuff or some fancy restaurant, I’d pick McDonald’s!”

“Now,” Mam said.

“You’re just jealous,” Mandy said angrily.

“I’m not jealous! I am not one teeny bit jealous. You can have John Zook. You’re going to end up with a farmer and get up every morning at four-thirty and milk his sloppy cows for the rest of your life. You can just have him and gladly,” she flung in Mandy’s direction before opening the stair door and clomping up the stairs. She wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw Mam and Mandy give each other that look, the one that meant Lizzie’s pathetic.

Lizzie spent the remainder of the evening in her room writing letters, correcting papers from school, and mulling her sordid life around and around in her head. So a person had the right to be grouchy occasionally, didn’t they? Schoolteachers were cooped up with dozens of noisy children all day in all kinds of weather, day in and day out, and nobody, not one single solitary person, appreciated it.

That’s what was wrong. She wasn’t sad or depressed. The parents should come visit school much more often than they did. Maybe if she’d get more praise and appreciation from the parents, she’d be a better teacher.

Then she thought of the Valentine’s Day surprise that Rachel Beiler and Mary Lapp had brought her. She remembered the bouquet of carnations and roses Jonathan King gave her, and she couldn’t help thinking about Samuel Glick’s warm handshake and sincere thanks for teaching his children. All the kindness the parents had shown throughout the year slammed into her self-pity, sending it flying like sparks into a dark night sky until not one trace was left.

She sat back in her chair and blinked, the feeling of warm gratitude bringing tears to her eyes. Yes, Mam was right, she decided. Maybe there was something deeper.

“May I come in?” Mandy whispered, opening the door a tiny bit.

Lizzie grinned. “Of course.”

Mandy tried to walk quietly and sedately, but there was an extra bounce to her step, one she couldn’t quiet down. She plopped on Lizzie’s bed, patted the pillows, and sighed. She rolled over, stared at the ceiling, and sighed again.

Lizzie glanced over at Mandy and smiled in spite of herself. “As soon as you’re done passing out, you can talk to me about your date,” Lizzie said.

“Oh, goody! Okay, I’m done passing out.” Mandy jumped up, bounced back down, and then arranged herself on the bed so she could see Lizzie better. “At least for now.”

Lizzie smiled, twirling her pencil. “So, what did he say?”

“Oh, as soon as I lifted the receiver and heard his voice, I knew it was John.” She rolled her large green eyes dreamily. “And, oh, Lizzie, I have to tell you, he was so polite, so manly, so … well, he knew exactly how to ask me out on a real date. It was the most … the most …”

Mandy clasped her hands to her heart, looked at the ceiling, and sighed deeply. “It was the most memorable moment of my entire life,” she finished.

“What did he say?”

“Oh, he just said he knows he should wait longer to ask me out, but it seems like he’s already waited forever. Imagine, Lizzie! He probably liked me from the very first time he saw me, exactly the way I felt. Oh, it’s just all meant to be. I can just see God’s hand in all of it. It’s the most wonderful feeling,” she said, sighing in rapture.

“That’s nice,” was all Lizzie could manage as she pushed the lemon tinge of jealousy away.

Mandy paused, watching Lizzie’s face closely. Finally she said very quietly, “Lizzie, I’m sorry to go on and on. You’re not really, seriously jealous of me, are you?”

Lizzie straightened her shoulders, briskly turning to sort through her stack of papers.

“Oh, no, of course not,” she said airily, waving her left hand as if to dismiss the very thought. “Of course not.”

“I’m so glad, Lizzie. You are such an absolute good sport about me having my first date. You know what? You should help me pick out fabric for a new dress and make it for me. Would you?”

“That would be fun!” Lizzie said. “What color are you planning to wear?”

“Oh, my! I don’t know. What should I wear?”

They opened Mandy’s closet door and paged through the sleeves of Mandy’s colorful array of dresses.

“This one would be perfect, Mandy. You really don’t need a new one just to go out for supper,” Lizzie said, taking down a soft dress of sage green. “This matches your eyes perfectly.”

“You think so?” Mandy gathered the dress in her arms and held it up in front of her, turning left and right as she examined herself in the mirror. Lizzie watched as Mandy’s slim figure floated back and forth in the glass, her bright smile emphasizing the green color of her eyes. “But … it’s so green!” she said doubtfully.

“It’s perfect, Mandy. You look lovely. I’ve hardly ever seen you wear it,” Lizzie assured her.

“You really, really, honestly think so?”

“Yes, Mandy. I do. If I were you, that’s exactly what I would wear.”

“All right. I’m going to.”

Lizzie smiled as Mandy went twirling across the room, the green dress flapping wildly. Who could be jealous of Mandy for any length of time? She was so young and happy. Her excitement kind of grabbed you and spun you along, like one of those little whirlwinds that went twirling across a dusty lane on a dry summer day just before a thunderstorm. Lizzie felt much like one of those pieces of dust. She was just swept along by Mandy’s infectious joy.

“Mandy, let’s ask Mam if we can go to Falling Springs on Saturday and go shoe-shopping!” Lizzie said, bouncing on her bed.

“Let’s do! Do you have any money?”

“We’ll ask Mam. She can give us some.”

They sat side by side making plans, talking about boyfriends, school troubles, muddy playgrounds, self-pity, first dates, and anything else they thought of.

A comfortable silence fell over the room as each one became lost in her own thoughts. The kerosene lamp flickered as a lone ladybug buzzed into the lamp chimney, evidently banging its head as it fell to the dresser top.

“One more thing,” Mandy said, clasping and unclasping her hands nervously.

“Hmm?” Lizzie asked, thinking more about the ladybug, her mind relaxing, slowly easing her hectic thoughts into a softer, dreamier state.

“Now don’t laugh. Promise?”

“I promise.”

“You know we don’t eat at a restaurant very often?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“What if I don’t know how to order? I mean … now don’t laugh!”

“I’m not laughing.”

Lizzie was still thinking about the ladybug, wondering how it had ever gotten into the house in the first place.

“You know how awkward I feel when I do order at a restaurant. Like I can’t talk fancy enough or don’t know how to pronounce the words, or … I just feel so stupid,” Mandy said miserably.

“Oh, you aren’t that low class that you can’t order a dinner at a restaurant. You will do just fine. I’m sure you’ll be able to pronounce the words, since Amish people don’t go to places that are so fancy you can’t pronounce the name of the dishes you’re ordering.”

“Are you sure? John comes from Lamton originally, and those people are classy.”

“Not that classy.”

“You don’t know.”

“Yes, I do know,” Lizzie said quickly. “We are only as pitiful as we allow ourselves to be. We are someone, too. I mean, you can’t always feel like a nobody, being intimidated by the slightest thing. You are a very attractive young girl who is being escorted by a handsome young man, and you can say fancy words just as well as anyone else.”

Mandy looked at Lizzie with disbelief.

“You sound so English. Lizzie, stop it,” she said, frowning.

“I mean it. I don’t want you to feel like a country mouse, just because we’re poor and live on this old farm. That evidently doesn’t bother John Zook or he wouldn’t have asked you out.”

“True, true,” Mandy said, her spirits visibly lifted. “That was dumb of me, wasn’t it? Of course, I’ll be all right. And you know what? I could always just tell the waitress I’m having whatever John orders.”

“Of course. Good idea,” Lizzie agreed.

“Thanks, Liz. I don’t know what I’d do without you. You’re my best friend, best sister, best advisor, best everything. G’night!” And with that Mandy was off in a twirl of green.