“So, three Burkholders have set aside their own chores for my family,” Lizzie mumbled, nodding at them. They gave her a wave, and then she dipped her head to one side. “That was very kind of them to come by.”
A monarch butterfly flitted in front of her face. Lizzie raised her hand, swishing it away, not in the mood to ponder the creature.
“I need to get to the kitchen. I understand there are men out in the field, working to bring in the rest of the hay that Vader was harvesting this morning. And then there are the cows to milk and feed. I’ll need to cook something to feed everyone.” She twisted her mouth into a thin line, making a mental list of the food they had on hand.
She knew there would be enough chicken for a stew, and there were several loaves of bread in the pantry, along with beans and potatoes. There were some zucchini squash, tomatoes, cucumbers and lettuce in the garden that could be picked.
Paul caught her gaze and smiled. “Listen to me. You have plenty of help everywhere, even in the kitchen. I suspect my mamm is here, too.”
“What? I can’t have your whole family at our house.”
“Trust me, I have plenty of family to go around.” He let out a chuckle. “With my five siblings, the lot of them would easily fill up your kitchen.”
She managed to muster a smile.
He gently walked her and Sadie down the drive, up the porch steps and into the house, where a beehive of activity was going on. Excusing herself, Sadie rushed into the kitchen, making her way over to the long counter. Lizzie watched her laying out rows of sliced white bread. To her right another young woman was adding slices of cheese and turkey to one side of the sandwich. Paul had left her to go say hello to his mamm, who was dumping boiled potatoes from a large pot into a colander in the sink.
Lizzie realized she’d been standing in the doorway. Looking down at her apron, the same light blue color as her dress, Lizzie frowned. Despite her fatigue, with her mamm absent it was her duty to help run things in the kitchen. Pulling the apron she’d been wearing over her shoulders, she shrugged out of it. She hung it on one of the wall pegs near the front door. Her hand brushed against a boy’s straw hat. The felt band looked brand-new. But Lizzie knew it was exactly ten years old.
Some days she wished her mamm would put the hat away. Seeing that hat reminded everyone of David. She put her house apron on and tied the sash around her waist. Having the hat here or not, Lizzie would never forget her bruder. Unlike in the homes of their Englisch neighbors, here there were no family photos, so they were left with only the memory of the images of their lives.
Lizzie closed her eyes, seeing David’s face in her mind’s eye. The eyes that matched hers in color, the dark hair that no matter how hard Mamm tried to brush it in place, always stuck out from beneath this hat. She imagined the dimples that appeared when he smiled. She heard his laughter. She shook her head to clear out those thoughts. Blinking away the emotions that seemed to come every time she thought of her bruder, Lizzie realized Sadie had stopped making sandwiches and was watching her with concern.
Crossing the room, she came over to her. “How about you let me get you a nice glass of the fresh lemonade that Mrs. Yoder brought over.”
“That would be nice,” Lizzie said as she took another apron from a peg and put it on. Tying the sash off, she followed Sadie into the kitchen.
Lizzie took the glass from her friend’s hand, not realizing until this moment how thirsty she was. She took a gulp from the drink, letting the coolness slide down her parched throat. She set the half-empty glass on the counter, wondering where to begin. At the back of the kitchen, a door stood ajar. If not for her vader’s health, the laundry room would have been bustling with activity today.
Not only were the long summer days good for bringing in the hay, but they were also good for drying the wash. All through their community, backyard clotheslines would be filled with dark pants, white shirts and dresses. Monday was wash day. And the cars would come through in slow, long lines as the tourists tried to capture the image of their laundry on their fancy cameras or cell phones. Lizzie wanted to laugh because if they knew how much work was involved in getting a single load of wash done, maybe they’d see those images in a different way.
The dark pants, blue shirts, dresses and aprons would have to wait until tomorrow for their washing because right now there was a group of men waiting to be fed. Lizzie began helping the women carry out the bowls of potato salad and fruit salad, along with the platter of sandwiches and cutlery to a makeshift plywood-and-sawhorse table that had been set up underneath the shade of a large maple tree out in the backyard.
One of the women had gone to signal to the men that it was mealtime. She heard the clanking of the bell that hung outside the front door. In some homes a bell like this would be used to signal an emergency. Her father had installed a phone shanty on their property a few years ago. It was only used for business or for emergencies. Today she’d been beyond thankful for the convenience. Though it had seemed like an hour to her, the ambulance had arrived within minutes of her 911 call.
She knew in some Amish communities, the Ordnung forbade the use of any kind of phones, in which case a person had to travel to the nearest business to use one or depend on their Englisch neighbors to let them borrow theirs. Lizzie had even heard of some of the younger folks being allowed the use of cell phones. She shook her head at that thought. She couldn’t imagine needing one of those.
Here in Miller’s Crossing, New York, there were several Amish communities. The one where her family lived was allowed to have curtains on their windows and linoleum flooring in the houses. Lizzie felt pleased to have some of the more modern amenities. This brought her sister, Mary, to mind. As soon as the meal was over, she would get a message to her about their vader. Her sister had married Aaron Yoder last year and moved over an hour away. Mary and Aaron’s church Ordnung didn’t allow for such niceties in the homes. It had been a week or so since Mary’s last letter. Lizzie knew her schweschder had had some trouble adjusting to her new life, but she loved her husband, so she was willing to try. The family was planning to be together the first Tuesday in October for their cousin Rachel’s wedding.
Thoughts of Mary’s new life and their cousin’s wedding gave Lizzie pause. With her vader’s heart condition, she had no idea what tomorrow would hold, let alone if they could actually attend the wedding. As she spooned potato salad onto the plates, she thought about how all around her, family and friends were starting new lives, growing their own families. And here she was, still on the farm with her mamm and vader like a bobbli. Yes, she loved her life here, even if at times things did seem complicated. Even before his sudden illness, her vader had needed help on the farm. If she were to take a husband, things could be different.
As she so often found herself doing in times of stress, Lizzie ran her hand along the scar on her face. What man would want someone so disfigured? Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Paul acting kind with his mamm. Lizzie couldn’t help but think of all the years of kindness he’d shown her. He was a good friend and neighbor. A fine man. Paul would make an excellent husband for one lucky woman.
But that woman would not be her.
* * *
Paul had spotted his mamm at the stove in the Millers’ kitchen, getting ready to drain a large pot of green beans into a colander in the sink, and hurried over to take the heavy pot from her.
“Here, Mamm. Let me do this for you.”
“Ja, my strong son to the rescue,” she said, stepping aside to let him dump the pot. The hot steam wafted up between them as the string beans and water fell into the metal colander. Gently nudging him aside, she took the colander from him and shook the vegetables from side to side, helping the water drain out.
“I see you brought