Big Decisions Page 14

  “Oh, Stephen!” she wailed, absolutely heartsick. “Where is all this water coming from?”

  “Just be quiet!” Stephen almost shouted at her.

  Lizzie was horrified. Water, cold rain water, spread across the entire floor, swirling beneath her new sofa and recliner, swishing along the table and new chairs, and now Stephen was yelling at her, clearly angry just because she squeaked one frightened little question.

  It was pitch dark in the basement, but Lizzie knew she needed to find a pack of matches to light the gas lamp. Flashlights! That was the answer, but by the time she had sloshed over to the cupboard, Stephen had already found one, which by the sound of his muttering, wasn’t cooperating.

  “Doesn’t that one work?” she managed, in a tiny voice.

  There was no answer; only the sound of a flashlight being hurled against the unpainted cement block wall, accompanied by Stephen’s frustrated accusation that she had lost all the flashlights.

  That did it. Lizzie felt the anger course through her body, followed by a rush of adrenaline. She stopped in the middle of the wet basement, curled her hands into fists, and took a deep breath.

  “I didn’t touch your precious flashlight!” she yelled, “So don’t go blaming me for everything that goes wrong!”

  “There were two flashlights against the left cupboard wall. Now there’s only one, and it doesn’t work.”

  “I didn’t use it!” Lizzie screeched.

  There was only a resounding “Humph” from Stephen, and Lizzie became so angry she wished she had a flashlight to throw at him. All right, if that’s how he was going to be, she’d just stand there with the water sloshing around her, slowly seeping between the leather layers of the soles of her Sunday shoes and soaking her feet with a miserable, cold wetness. She knew where the matches were, but she wasn’t going to tell him. Let him figure it out.

  Which, of course, he did. He rummaged around in a few drawers before sloshing over to the table and lowering the gas lamp that hung above it. Striking two matches, he heated the mantles until they ignited. Brilliant yellow light illuminated the entire basement as he carefully hung the lamp on the hook suspended from the ceiling joist.

  Lizzie looked around very slowly, hardly daring to look at Stephen, knowing he was angry. A significant amount of water covered almost the entire floor. Water seemed to still be entering the basement through the east wall, where rain continued to pelt against the house. Lizzie felt panic rising in her throat. They couldn’t even begin to sop up the water with towels and buckets. They’d be working the entire night.

  “Stephen, what are we going to do?” Lizzie asked, wringing her hands in despair.

  “Open the drain, for one thing,” he said shortly, grabbing the broom and flipping it upside down as he searched for the drain opening.

  Oh, that was it! They had a drain! Of course! All the water would run down the drain pipe, out into the yard and down the hill. Why hadn’t she thought of that before? Why, of course. They would have a clean, dry basement in no time.

  She almost cried when Stephen bent down and pulled at the top of the drain, and she heard a distinct gurgling sound as water began to flow down the new pipe. She watched in awe as a little whirlpool of water formed above it, the water continuing its spiral down this wonderful little outlet. Never had there been a sweeter sight in her entire life. Her new furniture wouldn’t be ruined after all.

  “Oh, Stephen, it’s going down!” she breathed happily.

  “Yeah, but more is coming in along that back wall, so don’t get too excited.

  “You mean … you mean, it’s still coming in?”

  “Of course. As long as it continues to rain like this, it’ll come down through those offset blocks. There’s no spouting on the house, remember?”

  Lizzie nodded miserably.

  “You can start sweeping some of the water toward the drain awhile. I’ll set up the things we can lift out of the water.”

  He started picking up the new kitchen chairs and placing them upside down on the table top, while Lizzie reached for the broom and began sweeping water towards the drain from the farthest corner. The water kept up its swirl down the lovely little drain. They didn’t speak, just worked silently, each one doing what had to be done at the moment. Lizzie swept as if her very life depended on how much water went down that drain. When she reached the bedroom, she couldn’t stop the wail that threatened to turn into a torrent of genuine little girl tears.

  “My bedroom suit! My new bedspread!” she wailed. “Stephen, I mean it, everything will be ruined!” she cried.

  “Not if we get it dried out as fast as we possibly can,” Stephen answered, “The only problem is the water is still coming in.”

  “How … long do you think it will keep raining?” Lizzie asked, her mouth dry with anxiety.

  “How would I know?” Stephen answered brusquely.

  That did it. Lizzie began crying in earnest. She stopped trying to be brave and grown up, resorting to the heartsick despair she felt so keenly. She wanted to run to her old bedroom upstairs in her parents’ farmhouse, crawl safely into her own bed way off the ground, and listen to the rain drumming on the attic roof. She would be dry and secure, and Dat would take care of everything. She shouldn’t have married so soon, she thought sadly. Then she felt so horrible for having that thought and she started crying harder than ever.

  Perhaps this was what the preacher meant at their wedding when he said they would experience the joys of sunshiny days as well as the trials of rainy days. She supposed you put this experience smack dab in the category of trials and rainy days, for sure. The same preacher had also spoken at length about the trials in their lives producing fruit; in other words, making better people out of all of us. Lizzie couldn’t see how this was possible. How was she ever supposed to like Stephen again? He was mean to her.

  That was the thing about being married to someone. What if you could hardly stand them when they didn’t act right? It was all so scary. How in the world did that preacher figure any good could come out of a mess like this? She doubted if even God could find the good in this situation.

  Tears running down her face, and sniffling and coughing like a little girl, she kept sweeping water toward the drain. She made absolutely sure Stephen heard her crying, so he would feel sorry for her and feel bad that he had made her cry so soon into their marriage. She blew her nose loudly, sighed, looked in his direction, and sighed louder.

  He kept on moving furniture out of the water, never stopping to glance in her direction. Bringing pieces of lumber down from upstairs, he set the sofa and recliner up and out of the water, which, Lizzie admitted to herself, was a wonderful idea.

  “You’ll have to help me with the dresser, Lizzie,” he said, stopping to look at her.

  “I’m still crying. Wait,” she answered, finding the perfect opportunity to let him understand that she was, after all, completely heartbroken. Stephen’s shoulders sagged, and he made a sound between a snort and a sigh. Mostly a snort. Lizzie blew her nose loudly again, then stepped over to receive her instructions.

  “Now when I lift this end of the dresser, you slide that piece of two-by-four under it. Be careful.”

  Oh, it was a great idea, it really was, setting her precious furniture on two-by-fours. The things that were on casters—the hutch cupboard, the table, and the light stand—could all sit in the water without serious damage, so Lizzie began to feel better. Much better, in fact.

  The rugs were soaked, so there was nothing to do except roll them up and place them close to the drain. Stephen put more wood in the stove, building a roaring fire, and soon Lizzie noticed dry spots on the new concrete floor.

  Glancing at the kitchen clock, she saw it was almost midnight, and suddenly she felt very, very tired, actually on the verge of collapse. Her arms hurt from all the sweeping, which was why she was tired, she decided. She wondered vaguely if Stephen was tired, too, and fervently hoped so.

  The following morning th
ey were awakened by brilliant sunshine slanting through the east window of their basement home. Lizzie sat bolt upright and said quite loudly, “The sun is shining!”

  “It usually does,” Stephen said dryly from the depth of his pillow.

  “Not when there’s a rainstorm!” she said happily.

  Oh, she could not believe their good fortune as she tiptoed around the basement in her bare feet, evaluating their situation. A small amount of water was still seeping through the block wall, but only in a few places, and not very much at that. The soaked rugs continued to leak water, but most of it ran down the lovely little drain.

  They were saved! No furniture was ruined. All would be well, and Lizzie’s joy knew no bounds.

  “Oh, Stephen, I’m so glad it quit raining. Everything is drying out!” she trilled.

  She made eggs and toast, heating the canned sausage Mam had given them with the remainder of their canned goods. She would have liked to make pancakes, but she didn’t know how, and besides, she had no pancake syrup. She would have to remember to buy some when she went to town with Mam.

  They ate and talked, Stephen saying they’d need to plan a few frolics on Saturdays to work on the house, since this basement was not the ideal place for new furniture. They needed to finish construction as soon as possible. Lizzie clasped her hands together with sheer happiness, hearing Stephen talk like that. Finally, he was going to hurry! Soon she would be living in a new house!

  It was amazing how easily and completely she could forgive Stephen for being so short with her last evening. She guessed that must be because she loved him, believing that if you didn’t love someone you didn’t get over things that easily.

  A new thought struck her then, and she looked at Stephen when he wasn’t looking at her. Maybe he had thought she was being a frightful, big baby last night, sweeping water and crying, but he wasn’t mad at her this morning, at least not that she could see.

  “Were you mad at me last night?” she blurted out in her forthright manner.

  “Not really. You burned this toast.”

  “What do you mean, ‘not really’? Were you sort of?”

  “Hmm-mm.”

  “Yes, you were.”

  There was no answer.

  See, that was the thing about Stephen that irritated her. You couldn’t get to first base about how he felt. She had always shared all her feelings with Emma and Mandy. Everything. But with Stephen ….

  Well, the sun was shining, the basement was partially dry, and life was definitely better than last evening. They had gotten through a very big trial in life, in Lizzie’s opinion. They had come through quite well, considering Stephen only threw one flashlight, not both of them, and she had cried only once. Well, the crying had gone on for quite some time, but it wouldn’t have if Stephen had been kinder and put his arms around her and pitied her the way she thought he should have.

  She guessed that was how most men were. She was sure Stephen thought she had been terribly childish; that’s why he chose to ignore her. So really, he had something to get over, too. Perhaps he could hardly stand her this morning.

  That was a new thought, so she vowed to do better and never cry again. She bet most men didn’t like it when their wives cried, especially when the tears were produced by a situation they had no control over. It wasn’t Stephen’s fault they had a rainstorm. Yes, she would figure this out and learn by her mistakes, becoming a better wife as time went on.

  When Stephen got a clean, new tea towel and asked if she wanted him to dry dishes for her, she smiled at him genuinely and was very grateful. He was a good husband in so many ways, so what did it matter if he didn’t tell her all his feelings? Putting up with her crying and drying dishes for her was a lot.

  And when he said he wasn’t going visiting anymore, that he was thoroughly tired of it, that they had plenty of wedding gifts, and that he would rather stay at home with her, she agreed heartily. That was fine. Perhaps the rainstorm had come so they would agree on this one thing and learn to accept each other in the process. Maybe that preacher knew what he was talking about after all.

  Chapter 15

  THAT SPRING, THE GLAD day arrived when the house was finished. Mandy and Mam helped Lizzie clean the new rooms so they were ready for the moving day they had set for Saturday. Stephen’s whole family would come to help, as well as Joshua and Emma.

  For a small house, their floor plan was very wise, Lizzie thought. The kitchen was in a part by itself, although the dining room and living room were all open, laid out in a kind of L shape. That meant Lizzie could set up her table with all the leaves in it if she chose to have lots of company for a meal.

  She loved her new kitchen cupboards, stained to a medium walnut shade. She had plenty of cupboard space, plus a small pantry with deep shelves that held an amazing amount of things. The refrigerator sat along the opposite wall by the window, and the table and chairs were placed in the middle of the dining area near the back door that faced the east.

  The linoleum was a shade of brown with a small brick design. The laundry room had hardwood flooring, with an open stairway going to the upstairs. The living room was small, but it flowed into the dining area, with only the line where the hardwood flooring stopped, and the brick brown linoleum started, marking where one room began and the other ended.

  There was a small hallway off the dining area, where, on the left, the basement door opened to the stairs going down, and on the right, another door led to the bathroom.

  Lizzie was very proud of her bathroom with its long vanity attached to a tall cupboard built into the corner. She had so much space for towels, washcloths, sheets, pillowcases, and anything else she chose to store there. It was really wonderful cupboard space, a part of the house that she loved the most, she thought, smoothing the towels properly as she placed them one by one into the tall shelves. She put the sheets there on the top shelves, all folded evenly. In her opinion, it looked exactly like a picture in the Sears’ catalog.

  At the end of this small hallway, a door led to their bedroom, a nice-sized one with less expensive linoleum in a shade of white with a small stone design. The bedspread was blue, but she hadn’t made curtains for the windows yet, so it wouldn’t seem finished until that was done. There was a second bedroom adjoining their room. Stephen had lots of things to put in this room, like guns, a gun cabinet, a bow and arrow, strange looking boots, gun cleaning kits, and a spare desk.

  One thing bothered Lizzie, although she decided not to make a fuss to Stephen about it. It was the fact that no door joined these two rooms, which meant that any nice summer breeze wouldn’t flow from one room to the next. A door between the rooms would take care of that.

  But today was moving day, and there was so much to be happy about. She couldn’t imagine making a big issue about the lack of one door.

  Stephen’s parents arrived early, eager to help carry the new furniture up from the basement. His mother brought more sheet sets, towels, and a brand new comforter made with purple and blue flannel and knotted with blue yarn. It was very pretty and of a medium weight that would be perfect for their bed. The wood stove in the living room was not very far away, so their bedroom probably wouldn’t become too cold.

  She didn’t need to worry about that now, however, because spring was here and promised to bring beautiful sunshine and warm breezes nearly every day.

  Joshua and Emma arrived. It was always a happy event when they traveled the 45 miles from their own farm in Allen County.

  John and Mandy came up the hill with their black horse, the twins sound asleep in their little car seats in the back seat of the buggy. Mandy had made cookies for their coffee break, and Mam soon had the coffee ready, bringing it up the hill from the farmhouse below.

  Lizzie would never forget this whole day. Everything was taken care of, down to the last detail. The curtains were all hung, the bathroom fixtures were in place, and even the canister set Mandy had given her was lined up on the counter top and filled with flour, s
ugar, oatmeal, and tea.

  The canisters were made of glass, not ceramic, with the words “sugar,” “flour,” “coffee,” and “tea” labeled across their fronts in brown, fat letters. It was an unusual canister set, Lizzie knew. No one else had one exactly like it, so she felt very classy and modern.

  After everyone had gone home, wishing them the best, Lizzie’s heart was filled to overflowing. How blessed she and Stephen were! They had so many caring relatives, so much love to absorb and be thankful for. She felt as if her whole life had built up to this moment. She was settled in a new house with everything the way she wanted, and Stephen was her husband. She was living a dream come true.

  Before long, however, Lizzie was finished making curtains, cleaning the basement, baking Stephen’s favorite chocolate cake, and sewing a few items of clothing, and she became very, very bored.

  She wanted a lawn. That was the thing. She wanted a bulldozer to come level the mounds of topsoil that were lined up on the south side of the house so they could rake them evenly and then sow grass, plant shrubs, and make flower beds and a garden. Lizzie had nothing to do.

  Stephen told her they could not have a lawn that summer, because he was laying all the white bricks himself. There was no use putting a lawn in when he would just ruin it by trampling the grass while laying brick. Lizzie nodded, understandingly. She really did. But inside she saw no sense in it. Couldn’t he lay brick by staying close to the house where the flower beds would be?

  One evening, after she had literally been sitting in the recliner twiddling her thumbs, she opened the subject of having a lawn once again.

  Stephen sighed, his eyes narrowing, and he laid down his fork.

  “Lizzie, you just don’t get it. How can I push a wheelbarrow across the newly seeded lawn? Or drag a water hose across it? Or set up the scaffolding? It simply won’t work. Besides, it’s too late in the season. The sun will be too hot, and we’d have to water constantly if we seeded now.” Picking up his fork, he resumed eating his mashed potatoes and hamburger gravy.