A Love For Lizzie. Tracey J. Lyons

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      Paul’s family owned a cabinetmaking business. Even with him and his three bruders all working at the shop, they always seemed to be busy. All the more reason Lizzie appreciated the time he took to stop by to check on her family. There was only Lizzie left here to help on the farm. Her older sister, Mary, had married and moved away to her husband’s church district last year. There were no other siblings left. Her mudder had been unable to have more children. Her vader worked from long before sunup to sundown, running their small dairy farm. Lizzie helped where she could, selling eggs, jams and baked goods at the roadside stand.

      The farm life wasn’t an easy one. Even so, she knew her vader wouldn’t live his life any other way. She wished things were different. If she had a husband, he could help out. But Lizzie couldn’t even imagine entering into a courtship. Absently she rubbed the side of her face. The scar was a constant reminder of the life she couldn’t have. Most days she didn’t even leave the farm. She felt safe and secure here, away from the prying eyes of those who wanted to see her face, those whose expressions carried all the questions of wanting to know what had happened to leave that mark on her.

      Yet, Lizzie thought, she could be perfectly content to live out the rest of her life here, in quiet and safe solitude.

      “What are your plans for today?” Paul asked.

      Lizzie blinked, looking up at him, realizing the screen door still separated them. She didn’t want him to think she was being rude, so she asked, “Would you like to come in for some coffee and a muffin? I baked blueberry ones earlier this morning.”

      “Nee. Danke for the offer, though. I need to get back to work. I just wanted to give you the paints in case you were planning on drawing today.” Paul set his straw hat back on his head.

      “Danke again for your thoughtfulness,” Lizzie said, looking past him.

      Her gaze settled on the big red barn, where she knew her vader was finishing up with the morning milking. Her mudder had gone into the village of Clymer, a few miles from the house, to pick up some items from the Decker General Store. Cocking her head to one side, Lizzie looked through the dappled sunlight, beyond the shade of the big oak tree next to the house, and squinted her eyes, uncertain of what she was looking at.

      “Paul, turn around and look down to the barn. Is that a cow I’m looking at?” she asked, pointing to a spot at the farleft corner of the barn, where the animal appeared to be munching on some grass outside of the fenced-off field.

      Turning to look over his shoulder, Paul seemed to ponder her question and then said, “Lizzie, is your vader down at the barn?”

      “Ja, he is supposed to be. Why do you ask?”

      “Because there appears to be about half a dozen cows on this side of the fence.”

      “That is strange.” She opened the door, stepping out to join Paul on the porch. “I think we should go see what’s going on.”

      Tucking the bag into her apron pocket, she hurried along with him down the graveled pathway, across the driveway and to the barn, where they both stopped in front of the open door. Lizzie could see at least a dozen cows wandering about the yard surrounding the building. She turned to look up at Paul, whose gaze followed in the same direction as hers.

      “Something’s wrong. “There’s no way your vader would let the cows roam free.”

      A shiver raced along her spine as she stepped behind him, following him into the dark coolness of the same building where her brother had plunged to his death ten years ago today. Sucking in a deep breath, Lizzie tried to swallow the panic welling up inside her.

      “Vader! Are you in here?” Lizzie called out.

      They stopped in the center of the large expanse. Sunlight streamed in through the slats of wood on the outside walls. Off to one side were the feed bins. There was no sign of her vader here.

      “I think we should check the milking parlor,” Lizzie said, putting her hand on Paul’s arm, guiding him forward.

      Thick dust motes stirred through the air as they made their way to the back of the building, where the milking parlor was located. Lizzie rubbed the end of her nose. The hay dust always made her want to sneeze. She held her breath, waiting for the sensation to pass. When it did, she took in a soft breath. Paul held the door to the parlor open, then nodded, indicating she could enter first.

      “Ach! Nee!” Lizzie covered her hands over her face, not wanting to believe that what she was seeing in front of her could be real. Quickly she dropped her hands to her side and ran to where her vader lay on the cement floor, silent and still.

      * * *

      Paul pushed his way into the room, not that far behind Lizzie. His heart thudded in his chest when he saw Joseph Miller lying on his back on the floor. Even from the distance of a few feet away, Paul could see the ashen color of the man’s skin. He took in a breath and then gently but quickly moved Lizzie to one side so he could check on her vader’s condition. Kneeling beside Joseph, Paul placed his fingers alongside the man’s neck, feeling the area where the carotid artery lay.

      “Is he...?” Lizzie’s voice was barely a whisper.

      Paul held up his free hand, silencing her. He needed to concentrate. He moved his fingers up and down the side of the man’s neck. At first he felt nothing, but then he felt a very faint throb. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.

      “Lizzie, I need you to run up to the phone shack and call 911. Tell them you think your vader has suffered a heart attack.” Even as Paul said the words, he couldn’t be sure that was what had happened, but it would get the ambulance to arrive faster. “Tell them he is breathing, but it’s very shallow.”

      He glanced up to find her still standing in the milking parlor, as if frozen in time. Tears rolled down her face, and her hands were knotted together in front of her apron. He could see her trembling. If her vader were to survive, Paul needed her help.

      “Lizzie!” Hoping to jolt her into action, he shouted her name. “Lizzie! You need to go. Now!” Immediately Lizzie ran out the barn door.

      The next few minutes were a blur. Joseph Miller lay on the hard floor of the barn, still as the air before a summer storm. Paul grew even more worried. He jostled the man’s shoulder, calling out his name.

      “Joseph! Can you hear me? Joseph!”

      The man’s eyelids fluttered and then stilled. Paul stayed beside the man, praying for his healing. The ambulance arrived, and after the paramedic did a quick assessment, he determined that Joseph needed to be transported immediately to the hospital in Jamestown, thirty miles away. Lizzie’s mother, who’d been out running errands, came barreling toward the barn.

      Pushing through the small circle of emergency responders, she cried out, “Paul! What’s happening?”

      He looked into eyes the same light blue color as Lizzie’s. He saw Susan Miller’s fear for her husband’s health. Quietly he answered, “Mrs. Miller, I can’t be sure. But the paramedic thinks it could be a heart attack.”

      The woman let out a sob and rushed alongside the gurney. Her midcalf-length black skirt flapped against her legs. “Joseph! Joseph!” she called СКАЧАТЬ