Running Around (and Such) (2 page)

And of course there was the farm, too. What if Mam was right and Dat wasn’t a farmer? Then they’d live in Cameron County with no money. She had absolutely no clue what the farm looked like. Dat didn’t even know. Why wouldn’t Mam go with him to say if she thought it was alright to live there? What if it was so old and tumbledown, it wasn’t even fit to live in? What if they had no money to fix it up? Mam would stay angry and grouchy for the rest of her life. It was all too troubling to think about.

Money had been an off-and-on touchy subject for the Glick family ever since Lizzie was a little girl. Even now, Lizzie got sad whenever she thought about Teeny and Tiny, their beautiful miniature ponies. She had been only eight when Dat had sat down at the breakfast table one morning. She knew something was wrong.

“I guess I may as well tell you now, girls,” he said.

“What?” Emma asked. She had looked up and smiled.

But Lizzie’s heart had sunk way down with a sickening thud. She knew. She knew exactly what Dat was going to say, because she had overheard Mam trying to persuade him to part with Teeny and Tiny, along with the glossy black spring wagon with the golden pinstripes along the side.

“We are going to have to sell Teeny and Tiny,” he said.

“Why?” Emma asked, stopping halfway with a bite of potato soup.

“Because we really need the money, and because it costs too much to feed three ponies. Mam thinks it would be best. I do, too, of course, but I wish we could keep them, I really do,” he finished.

Lizzie was heartbroken. It was just unthinkable, selling their miniature ponies. They were pint-sized little animals, a perfectly matched team of copper-colored ponies with blond manes and tails that Dat had made a little wagon for. The girls just loved when Dat hitched them to this wagon, and they went clipping down the road with their heads held high.

“When do we have to sell Teeny and Tiny?” Lizzie had asked so she wouldn’t cry.

“I’ve decided we’ll sell them soon at Harrison’s Horse Auction in Taylorsburg.”

Dat had spent several nights teaching Lizzie and Emma to drive the ponies. Lizzie loved the way the two creatures stepped together as if they were one animal instead of two. Their coats had glistened in the evening sun, and their blond manes and tails streamed behind them as their little black hooves pattered.

Lizzie was thrilled to sit on that seat in the little black spring wagon, up so much higher than the ponies, and feel the power of their sturdy little bodies. Driving ponies made Lizzie so happy that she smiled to herself without even realizing it. Dat said he loved it, too, which made her even happier.

The neighbors stopped their work and waved at Dat, calling out to him or shaking their heads in wonder at the size of those miniature ponies, Lizzie remembered. She had tilted her head back to see Dat’s face, and he was smiling and waving. He was so proud of this matched pair of ponies and the little spring wagon he had made all by himself.

As they pulled into the gravel driveway, Lizzie said to Dat, “We should get lots and lots of money for these ponies and never be poor again, ever—right?”

“Yes, Lizzie, you’re right,” Dat agreed.

But Lizzie wondered how Dat could have been laughing so much one minute and sound quite so sad the next. She thought he was probably as sad as she was to be back home so soon after that ride.

Lizzie jerked awake and rolled over. Her throat was dry and her tongue was parched. She needed a drink of water. Shivering, she slid out of bed. She still did not like to go roaming about the house at night after hearing of that creature in Alaska they called Bigfoot. He was as tall as a second-story window, with shaggy hair, and no one had proved yet that he did not exist.

Mam told Lizzie over and over that this was all untrue. God did not make big horrible creatures like that. Lizzie had put Bigfoot to the back of her mind, but she still pulled her blinds the entire way to the windowsill every evening before she went to sleep. She told herself it wasn’t because she was afraid or anything; she just felt safer that way.

Lizzie stepped out of her room, half asleep, feeling tired and groggy. Suddenly she stopped and her eyes flew open. Directly in front of her was a huge, shaggy shadow. Its hair stuck out wildly, and the shape of its grotesque head advanced slowly on the wall ahead of her.

Lizzie grasped the door frame, her eyes opening wide with pure terror. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she watched the shadowy creature on the wall. Just when Lizzie could take no more without screaming, cold with fear and her hands pressed tightly to her mouth, a very small voice said, “What are you doing?”

It was her little brother, Jason, stumbling out of his room, his riot of brown curls sticking up every which way. As he passed the kerosene lamp on the hall dresser, his woolly head had been illuminated on the opposite wall, blowing it way out of proportion until his headful of curls had taken on the appearance of a huge creature.

“Jason!” Lizzie gasped. Her knees were shaking so badly, she dropped down to the floor.

“What’s wrong with you?” he asked innocently.

“You just scared me, that’s all.” She couldn’t tell him that his woolly head resembled an imaginary Bigfoot. He was self-conscious enough about his thick head of hair without her telling him what it had appeared to be.

“I’m thirsty,” he said.

“Me, too. Come with me.”

After they each had a cold drink from the gas-powered refrigerator, they made their way carefully back up the stairs. At the top, Lizzie turned to watch Jason walk down the hall to his room, grimacing again when the same shaggy head appeared on the wall as he passed the kerosene lamp.

Still, weak with relief, she turned into her room and quietly got into bed, not wanting to wake Mandy. Maybe that’s how it was with her worrying. Everything looked so big and so terribly frightening, but if you refused to let it grow in your mind, it wasn’t half as scary as it seemed. A dog barked in the distance, and a chill crept up her spine. She flopped onto her back, seeing again the expression on Dat’s face years earlier when she had begged him not to sell Teeny and Tiny.

“Do we … I mean … do we have to, really have to sell Teeny and Tiny?” she had asked, raising her eyes in misery.

“Ach, Lizzie.” Dat’s face softened, and for a minute Lizzie knew Dat felt exactly the same way she did. Emma stopped brushing Tiny, resting her hand on his back to listen. Dat didn’t say more, and Lizzie waited expectantly, brushing back Teeny’s forelock. His hair was so soft and blond, and …

“We have to, Lizzie. We need the money, and that’s all there is to it,” Dat said gruffly.

“Oh,” said Lizzie, knowing deep down that Dat was only saying what she knew all along.

When Lizzie drove Teeny and Tiny into the ring, with Emma riding beside her, the crowd had gone wild. People stood up in their seats, clapping and cheering, smiling and waving their hats. The auctioneer could barely be heard above the thunderous applause. He laughed, put his microphone down, and waved his white cowboy hat. Emma and Lizzie had looked at each other and laughed.

Around they went, back to where Dat was standing, shaking his head and laughing, although Lizzie thought he looked as if he could cry at the same time.

“Keep going, Lizzie!” he yelled.

The auctioneer had opened the sale of the ponies at $500. He had to lower it to $300, and Lizzie dared hope that maybe, after all, Dat could not get a good price for them and they would be taken back home. Then the bidding escalated so fast and at such a confusing rate, with the auctioneer talking so fast that his words were a blur. Lizzie just kept driving the ponies steadily, eventually stopping them in front of the auctioneer’s stand.

Lizzie remembered hearing the amount of the bid. “Emma!” she whispered. “One thousand dollars!”

“That’s a lot, isn’t it?” Emma smiled at Lizzie, wringing her hands nervously in her lap.

Dat ran over to hold the ponies’ heads, patting their necks as he spoke to them.

“Eleven hundred dollars!” yelled the auctioneer. “Do I hear $1125?” A pause and a resounding, “Sold!” with a whack of his gavel, and the ponies were officially sold to buyer number 520.

Dat looked at the girls, a broad smile on his face and tears in his eyes. Lizzie and Emma smiled back, but Lizzie’s smile felt funny, as if it could slide downhill and pull tears along with it, like ice cream melting off a cone.

“Come, girls,” Dat said firmly, and they walked away, Dat in the middle with Emma and Lizzie on either side looking straight ahead. None of them had looked back at their ponies — not once. There was simply no use.

Lizzie pulled the covers up and sighed. She had done what she could to help their family have enough money then. And things weren’t as tough now as they were once. She would do what she could now to make the move to Cameron County as smooth as possible.

L
IZZIE HURRIED INTO THE
kitchen, clutching two pieces of wood that she had collected from the back porch. She lifted the metal handle from its hook on the wall behind the kitchen range and opened the round black lid so she could feed the wood into the fire. But the fire was hot and she couldn’t quite arrange the wood so that it would fall in the way it was supposed to. She pulled back as smoke burned her eyes.

“Shut that lid!” Mam said loudly.

“I can’t get the wood in right,” Lizzie answered.

“Here.” Emma came quickly to her rescue. Lizzie stepped back as Emma removed another section of the cast-iron top, and the wood fell to the grate. She quickly replaced the top and turned to wipe her hands on her apron.

Lizzie rubbed the smoke from her eyes. What is ever going to become of us? Lizzie wondered. She dreaded the future, so afraid Mam and Dat would never be the same. Mam had never gotten this upset when they had moved in the past.

Suddenly, Emma squared her shoulders and turned to face Mam, looking directly into her eyes. “Mam, there’s not one thing that is going to keep us from moving. I wish you wouldn’t be so dead set against it. You’re just making it hard for all of us.”

Lizzie was shocked to see Mam burst into tears. She lowered her head, bringing her hands to her face and turning away. Emma watched without expression before looking at Lizzie and raising her eyebrows. Lizzie could hardly bear what was happening. She let her eyes drift out the window at the dreary landscape, the dry grass, the pallet shop, and the overcast skies.

After a moment, Mam took off her glasses and wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron. She breathed a trembling sigh, replaced her glasses, and said, “I’m sorry, Emma. I really am. I know I’m acting like an absolute baby. I have to get a hold of myself and stop this bitterness. But we have it so nice here …” Her voice trailed off.

“Mam, I know. I don’t want to move either. But we have no choice. We have to be strong and look forward now,” Emma said.

Mam sighed. “I’ve always been able to give up before this and never minded moving so much. But this time, I don’t know why, but it’s different. My whole being resists this move. I have never
not
wanted to do anything so badly.”

Lizzie sat down on the bench opposite Mam. She put her hands on her knees, leaned forward, her eyebrows raised hopefully. “But think, Mam, it might not be so bad. Didn’t you say we can wear a different kind of apron? A bib apron? Do you know how to make them? We could see if we have material, and you could make some for us.”

Mam looked at Lizzie, a blank expression in her eyes. “Not today.”

That was all she said, but Lizzie knew it would take Mam a while to accept this move. The weight of Mam’s struggle would fall mostly on Emma’s responsible shoulders since she was older and closer to Mam. Lizzie and Mandy would try to make everything seem normal by acting as if nothing had happened.

The next day, Lizzie and her family piled into the van Dat hired to take them to Cameron County and the farm that Dat and Doddy Glick were buying. The road into Cameron County didn’t seem very big, at least not like the four-lane highways Lizzie was used to. She leaned against the cold window of the van Dat had hired to take them to the new farm as they crossed the bridge at Port James. The road wound through the countryside, past mountains, through wooded areas, and along tumbling streams. They passed through a few small towns, but there were no cities or shopping centers—nothing big or exciting.

“Look, girls, there it is,” Dat said.

He leaned forward and pointed out the window as the driver slowed the van. Lizzie moved up in her seat so she could see where Dat was pointing. All of a sudden, there it was. The farm. Lizzie’s heart sank. She did not dare look at Mam’s face, or Dat’s, or anyone’s. It was so awful.

The barn appeared first on the left, towering over them like a dark, scary thing. There was not a drop of paint on its black weatherbeaten boards. A row of cracked, dirty windows stood along its front.

“That’s the cow stable,” Dat said.

Lizzie couldn’t understand his excitement. A rickety barbed-wire fence made a barnyard of sorts, with sagging locust posts and rusty, broken wire. The barnyard was a quagmire of trampled black mud, with broken concrete blocks, pieces of brick, and old boards scattered through the oozing sludge.