just one Amish couple that that happened to?” Lizzie asked, peering anxiously into Rebecca’s face.
Their conversation was brought to an abrupt end by the appearance of two teams coming up over the hill. The first one was Marvin and Sara Ruth, followed by Amos and Sally.
“Jump out!” Rebecca shouted, gesturing to the approaching women to join them. Both women leaped nimbly out of their buggies as Marvin and Amos waved and said hello before moving on up the hill to follow Stephen and Reuben.
Sara Ruth and Sally were both small and blond. They were each only a bit over five feet tall, weighing slightly more than a hundred pounds. Lizzie always envied their slim figures, looking so little and girlish, so light-haired and dainty. But she guessed not everyone could be so perfect.
After saying hello, Sara Ruth felt the sleeve of Rebecca’s dress. “Is it new?” she asked.
“Yes, I made a few new dresses for the weddings this fall. We’ll all be going in with the ‘young married ones,’ so we have to look nice and neat and a bit plainer, you know. Comb our hair flat.”
They all laughed at Rebecca, but each one knew what she meant. The “young marrieds” were the couples who were engaged. They got special treatment at each wedding. They were seated first among the youth, which was always an honor. Even if you weren’t married yet, only engaged, you were still seated first. These girls combed their hair more demurely, like the married women, and looked very mature and ladylike, Lizzie always thought.
She tried to savor every moment here on the leaf-strewn, wooded hillside, chattering as only young women can. This was almost their last time together at the youth’s supper, and it all took on a surreal quality as Lizzie listened to Sally and Rebecca, smiling to herself as she tore a brittle leaf into many pieces.
It was a bit sad to think that there would be no more weekends of running around with her friends. Not really sad, just nostalgic maybe, kind of wishing you could go back and be 16 all over again. Would there ever be another time in her life quite as exciting as going to Allen County with Emma that very first weekend just after Lizzie turned 16? Probably from here on until she died, nothing would even come close to it. She would just grow old and fat—fatter, according to Rebecca—and have a whole houseful of children with runny noses and bottles dripping milk all over the floor. In a brown house with white bricks, instead of a brown house with brown bricks.
Suddenly she wanted to never, ever get married. Like a dark cloud hiding the sunlight, all of her happy anticipation disappeared. She pulled up her knees, stretching the blue fabric of her dress tightly around them, resting her chin on her folded legs.
Rebecca stopped talking and looked at Lizzie. “You’re being very quiet.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Grouch!”
Lizzie smiled.
The other girls chattered on, Sara Ruth giving them a vivid account of sewing her own wedding dress. They talked about how nervous they were about their actual weddings when they would stand facing the minister in front of hundreds of pairs of eyes.
“Mary Ann is lucky!” Lizzie said finally.
“Why?” Sally asked.
“Because she’s been married for almost a year, living in her cozy new home in Lamton, and all this nerve-racking stuff is behind her.”
“You think getting married is nerve-racking?”
“Well, kind of. In a way.”
The truth was that while Lizzie looked forward to all of the food and attention on her wedding day, she also got very nervous whenever she thought about it. Would Stephen know how to do everything right? She remembered Joshua and Emma, and also John and Mandy, practicing the day before their wedding, each turning the proper way so that the groom never turned his back to his bride. Things like that. She knew Stephen was completely ill at ease in a crowd, so the whole wedding day was something that gave her a severe case
Their conversation was brought to an abrupt end by the appearance of two teams coming up over the hill. The first one was Marvin and Sara Ruth, followed by Amos and Sally.
“Jump out!” Rebecca shouted, gesturing to the approaching women to join them. Both women leaped nimbly out of their buggies as Marvin and Amos waved and said hello before moving on up the hill to follow Stephen and Reuben.
Sara Ruth and Sally were both small and blond. They were each only a bit over five feet tall, weighing slightly more than a hundred pounds. Lizzie always envied their slim figures, looking so little and girlish, so light-haired and dainty. But she guessed not everyone could be so perfect.
After saying hello, Sara Ruth felt the sleeve of Rebecca’s dress. “Is it new?” she asked.
“Yes, I made a few new dresses for the weddings this fall. We’ll all be going in with the ‘young married ones,’ so we have to look nice and neat and a bit plainer, you know. Comb our hair flat.”
They all laughed at Rebecca, but each one knew what she meant. The “young marrieds” were the couples who were engaged. They got special treatment at each wedding. They were seated first among the youth, which was always an honor. Even if you weren’t married yet, only engaged, you were still seated first. These girls combed their hair more demurely, like the married women, and looked very mature and ladylike, Lizzie always thought.
She tried to savor every moment here on the leaf-strewn, wooded hillside, chattering as only young women can. This was almost their last time together at the youth’s supper, and it all took on a surreal quality as Lizzie listened to Sally and Rebecca, smiling to herself as she tore a brittle leaf into many pieces.
It was a bit sad to think that there would be no more weekends of running around with her friends. Not really sad, just nostalgic maybe, kind of wishing you could go back and be 16 all over again. Would there ever be another time in her life quite as exciting as going to Allen County with Emma that very first weekend just after Lizzie turned 16? Probably from here on until she died, nothing would even come close to it. She would just grow old and fat—fatter, according to Rebecca—and have a whole houseful of children with runny noses and bottles dripping milk all over the floor. In a brown house with white bricks, instead of a brown house with brown bricks.
Suddenly she wanted to never, ever get married. Like a dark cloud hiding the sunlight, all of her happy anticipation disappeared. She pulled up her knees, stretching the blue fabric of her dress tightly around them, resting her chin on her folded legs.
Rebecca stopped talking and looked at Lizzie. “You’re being very quiet.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Grouch!”
Lizzie smiled.
The other girls chattered on, Sara Ruth giving them a vivid account of sewing her own wedding dress. They talked about how nervous they were about their actual weddings when they would stand facing the minister in front of hundreds of pairs of eyes.
“Mary Ann is lucky!” Lizzie said finally.
“Why?” Sally asked.
“Because she’s been married for almost a year, living in her cozy new home in Lamton, and all this nerve-racking stuff is behind her.”
“You think getting married is nerve-racking?”
“Well, kind of. In a way.”
The truth was that while Lizzie looked forward to all of the food and attention on her wedding day, she also got very nervous whenever she thought about it. Would Stephen know how to do everything right? She remembered Joshua and Emma, and also John and Mandy, practicing the day before their wedding, each turning the proper way so that the groom never turned his back to his bride. Things like that. She knew Stephen was completely ill at ease in a crowd, so the whole wedding day was something that gave her a severe case
Similar Books
