Big Decisions (13 page)

“All right, I get it. So if you hear me singing tomorrow, you’ll know I’m in my rightful place.”

“In order to do that, your rightful place is on your knees this evening. Only God can give you the power to overcome your own selfishness.”

Dat appeared in the doorway, buttoning a clean shirt, his hair wet from the shower.

“Very good speech, Annie.” He laid a hand affectionately on her shoulder. “When I hear you talk like that, I think of all the times I required too much submission from you. You’ve been a good and faithful wife to me.”

Quick tears welled up in Mam’s eyes, and she blinked with embarrassment. “Oh, not always, Melvin. Not nearly always.”

“Take care of Stephen’s feelings, Lizzie. It’s worth it,” Dat said, clearing his throat gruffly at the unaccustomed emotion he felt.

When Lizzie dropped to her knees beside her bed, she could only thank God for two parents who were often imperfect, but who had gone the way before her and wanted only what was best. That was a huge thing, really.

W
HEN STEPHEN CAME WITH
a driver to go to Falling Springs the following week, Lizzie was waiting eagerly on the porch swing, her sweater wrapped closely around her body with her arms folded. It was getting close to their wedding date, and they had to choose the remaining furniture they needed to furnish their small house.

She was quite beside herself with anticipation. She had very seldom gone shopping with Stephen, as he certainly did not enjoy doing that, he had informed her firmly. But today he had no choice, she told him. He had to buy her china and her water set, which was really a water pitcher and six glasses she’d use on the day of their wedding. She also needed a set of silverware and a nice wooden chest to put it in.

Mam had given her all the money left in her savings account to buy kitchen chairs and a rocking chair for her living room. She had frowned about Lizzie’s determination to have captain’s chairs for her kitchen table, telling her those “furniture store chairs” don’t last. They’re not built as well as the Amish-crafted ones. But Lizzie was adamant. She loved the look of the low, round back and the arms you could rest your elbows on when you sat back in the chair.

Their first stop was the furniture store. Lizzie hopped out of the vehicle almost as soon as the wheels had stopped. Stephen laughed and shook his head at her.

“Why don’t you just calm down a bit? At the rate you’re going, you’ll be completely worn out long before we’re finished selecting our things.”

“Oh, okay,” Lizzie answered, trying to walk slower and act more demure, which really, if she thought about it, was how a girl who would soon be married should act.

She stopped at the big glass door, and Stephen reached around her to open it for her, allowing her to walk in first. It impressed her so much that he knew how to behave politely in the presence of English people. Besides, it made her feel special, cherished, even a bit queenly, when he allowed her to go first. She glanced up at him with a look she hoped conveyed her appreciation of his good manners. She was rewarded with a warm smile that melted her heart.

How could they forget their argument about squirrel-hunting so soon and love each other so much again? That was one of life’s greatest mysteries, she supposed, how angry you could become and how soon you could forget that emotion when love came flooding back, like the sun warming you after it had been hidden by dark clouds. She wondered how long it would keep working like that, or if eventually, if you got too angry too many times, that the love wouldn’t work anymore? That was scary to think about.

The salesman came over to them, danced over, actually, Lizzie thought, and asked them quite eagerly what he could help them with. He introduced himself and shook hands with Stephen, which was a bit too friendly when he was only a salesman in a furniture store. He looked like the cat in the Pinocchio book, so Lizzie took an instant dislike to him. She bet anything his chairs were expensive and very low quality.

He showed them different dining room sets, hovering over them like a bothersome mosquito, reciting the best merits of every set. He works on my nerves, Lizzie thought. I wish he’d go away.

As if reading her thoughts, Stephen asked him politely if they could have a bit of time by themselves to decide which chairs they wanted.

“Oh, of course! Certainly! Certainly!” and he was off as if his shirt was on fire.

Lizzie stifled a giggle, and Stephen grinned.

“All right. Now with him gone, do you like any of them?”

They looked at each one, compared prices, and finally decided to buy four oak captain’s chairs, but no table. Mam had ordered their table from an Amish furniture shop in Lamton, one that you could stretch out far enough to add 12 leaves and seat as many as 20 people at one time. That’s the kind of table all Amish women owned, a very necessary and practical piece of furniture with all the company they would serve over the years. Some women had their tables for 50 years, that’s how well they were built, Mam said.

They also bought a Boston rocker which was a wooden rocking chair with a high back and two pretty beige and brown cushions. When the over-enthused salesman totaled the bill, the amount was still 100 dollars less than the amount Lizzie had in her purse. She was so happy because she could buy something more now, maybe a coffee table or some extra dishes. After Stephen made arrangements to have the furniture delivered in a month, they were on their way to the little shop on Main Street to buy a wooden silverware chest.

Lizzie was a bit apprehensive, not knowing how to let Stephen know that he didn’t have to spend an exorbitant amount of money on her without making him feel as if he didn’t have enough money to buy her pretty things. He opened the door for her, and a little bell tinkled above their heads. A small, heavy-set man on a wheelchair turned to greet them, an easy smile spreading across his round face.

“Hello, there!” he greeted them.

They both answered with hellos of their own before looking around the tiny shop. The walls were covered with cut-glass or crystal dishes, displays of silverware, and wooden chests to store them in. There were also clear glass cases of jewelry and glistening gold and silver trophies, awards for having won a certain sport or event.

“If there’s anything I can help you with, please let me know,” the man told them in his soft, polite manner.

Lizzie’s eyes lit up, and she pointed to a clear glass water pitcher set. The pitcher was round and a bit low with the most wonderful-looking handle coming up from the bottom, shaped into a graceful arc with the rounded end resting against the top of the pitcher. There were eight tall glasses, each with a clear glass bottom and one delicately stemmed flower etched on it. The set was beautiful, absolutely perfect, but she hesitated before she could summon the courage to look at the price.

“One hundred thirty-nine dollars!” she gasped.

Turning to look at Stephen, she said, “You can’t buy that for me. The price is outrageous!”

“Do you like it?” he asked.

“Oh, I love it. It’s so beautiful! I never saw anything like it. I wonder how they can make a handle like that out of glass.” She bent over the set, lifting a glass and turning it against the light.

“Well, you said you don’t mind getting inexpensive china, didn’t you? I could buy this set for you if you don’t mind less costly dishes then,” Stephen said, as she watched the sunlight playing on the clear glass.

Lizzie returned it to the shelf, clasped her hands together in excitement, and said, “Of course! That’s what we’ll do! You can buy this ridiculously expensive water pitcher set, and we’ll go to K-Mart for my china. That’s exactly what we’ll do!”

When they emerged from the quaint little shop, Stephen carried a box containing the beautiful water set, and Lizzie carried one which held a oak silverware chest. It was lined with beige-colored felt and had different compartments to hold knives, spoons, and forks, with a small drawer beneath.

“Oh, Stephen!” Lizzie breathed. She couldn’t think of one thing to say other than that simple statement. She meant to say, “Thank you,” but it seemed so inadequate. She was, quite easily, thrilled beyond words.

However, they had not bought the silverware to put into the chest because it was simply too expensive. Lizzie didn’t mind at all. She knew that at K-Mart there was a set she had often admired for about one-fourth the price, which really was smart, because how often did you use your good silverware?

Before they went to the big K-Mart store, they stopped for their favorite treat—pizza. That was one thing they never disagreed on. Pizza was their favorite restaurant food. Lizzie knew that pizza and all the big sandwiches, French fries, fried mushrooms, and whatever, were terribly high in calories and everything else that was not good for you, but she never cared, figuring a few such meals weren’t going to hurt her.

Lizzie liked going to restaurants with Stephen. He always told Lizzie the same thing—that he didn’t know how to pronounce the words, so she should order for him. Then he would show her the item he wanted and pronounce it in some outrageous fashion, so that she always laughed when the time came to order.

Over piping hot slices of thick pizza, loaded with mushrooms, sausage, and pepperoni, just as Stephen loved it, they talked of their house and how much they looked forward to arranging their new furniture in it.

“I just wish I could buy china like John gave Mandy,” Stephen remarked.

“Please don’t, Stephen. I wouldn’t even feel right, knowing you’re putting every penny you have into our new house. To tell you the truth, I’m not interested in dishes much anyway. If a set of china is arranged in a hutch cupboard, who can tell if it’s expensive or not?”

That was how she felt, too. K-Mart china was just fine for her and perfect for Stephen’s budget. She knew that sometimes she would run her hands over the unbelievably smooth surface of Mandy’s plates and cups, marveling at the luster of those dishes, but she never once wished she could have some just like them.

They were pushing a cart up the long aisles at K-Mart when Stephen began showing signs of impatience. He said something about where they kept their hunting stuff, then leaned against a shelf and tapped his foot while Lizzie browsed, or he whistled a slow tune under his breath. He sighed, asked Lizzie where the clock was, and asked if she couldn’t choose silverware without him.

“No, Stephen, I want to get my things with you!” Lizzie said, sharper than she had intended.

“Oh.” That was all he said, and afterward he started looking at the ceiling, humming and tapping his shoe against the tile floor.

“Stephen, look. Which design do you like best?” Lizzie held up three different knives to show him the handles.

“That one!” he said, so quickly that she knew he hadn’t even considered.

“You didn’t even
look
!”

“They’re all nice. I like them all. Just buy all three.”

Lizzie laughed. “You don’t even care!”

“Why would I? You don’t see the handle of your fork while you’re eating. You look at your food. Just get whatever you like best.”

He resumed his humming and foot-tapping routine, which was soon accompanied by drumming his fingers against the shelf he was leaning against. Lizzie tried hard not to let it bother her, but she was starting to feel a distinct twitch in one eye. Her back began to ache with tension, and she chewed her thumbnail.

She liked the design that looked as if little blocks were hammered into the handle, but then, what about the rose design? Of course, there were no roses on her water pitcher set, so maybe that wouldn’t look right either. She simply could not decide, and Stephen was acting like some huge dolt by this time.

“Let’s go look at the china,” she said evenly, although she had to clench her teeth so she wouldn’t lose her temper.

He followed her meekly, saying nothing, leaned against another shelf, and looked at the ceiling. Then the foot-tapping began again.

“Stephen, do you like this design?” she asked quickly. Anything to stop that incessant foot-tapping.

He walked over and peered down at the plate she held in her hands. “That’s pretty. Actually, if your mashed potatoes covered that one row of flowers, and the gravy ran over to the opposite side, it would look exactly like every other set of china.”

“If you don’t act normal, I’m going to break this plate over your head,” Lizzie said, trying to joke but falling a bit short.

“You would, wouldn’t you?” Stephen said.

“If you don’t stop tapping your foot and staring at the ceiling, I will.”

“Lizzie, I hate to go shopping. Why do I have to stand here so long? Just buy something, anything, so we can go home. I want to work on the house,” he said beseechingly, spreading his hands for emphasis.

“I’ll tell you what. You go to the sporting goods section and look at fishing rods or guns or whatever it is that holds your interest, and I’ll choose my china all by myself.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

She had never been more certain of anything in her life, letting out a huge sigh of relief the minute his tall form disappeared around a corner. Men just weren’t made to go shopping. Mam said the very same thing about Dat. After he left, she calmed herself considerably and chose the hammered design for her silverware and a beige and gold flower pattern for her china. A salesperson helped her with the two boxes of china, and she wheeled it toward the sporting goods section, hoping both boxes would stay intact until she found him.