Читать книгу A Love For Lizzie - Tracey J. Lyons - Страница 15

“Good morning, Lizzie.”

Her long-time neighbor and friend, Paul Burkholder, greeted Elizabeth Miller, or “Lizzie” as everyone called her, from the other side of the screen door on the front porch. A tall man with mahogany-brown hair and dark brown eyes, his head barely cleared the top of the door. He was holding his flat-brimmed straw hat in one hand and a bag in the other. He wore a blue work shirt and black pants with thin leather suspenders, the ends buttoned inside the waist of his pants, the typical everyday clothing of a Miller’s Crossing Amish man.

His face was clean-shaven, void of the full beard that marked the married men. She’d always thought him to be handsome. At twenty-three he remained single, while most of his friends were getting married, though she’d heard rumors at the last frolic that he wanted to change all of that. Paul might look like many of the other men in their church district, but Lizzie knew this man had a big heart. Maybe sometimes too big of a heart. He’d stuck by her through thick and thin.

Even all the times she’d pushed him away.

Lizzie knew over the past week she’d been pushing at him extra hard. This time of year was always a difficult one for her and her family. Her gaze slid to the hook on the wall next to the door. The place where her bruder’s black hat still hung. She swung her attention back to the man standing on the porch. Concentrating on the present kept Lizzie from thinking about that long-ago day. A day she tried hard to forget. Yes, some of her memories of that day remained foggy, stuck somewhere deep in her mind, like a splinter that she couldn’t get out. Still, the end result could never be changed; no matter what she remembered, her brother, David, would still be gone and she would have this mark seared on her face.

Paul rolled his shoulders, the strong muscles flexing beneath the cotton fabric of his light blue shirt. Lizzie’s hand moved to cover the scar on her face. Beneath her fingertips she felt the raised flesh. The jagged cut ran three inches long, from the edge of her eyebrow to just below her cheekbone. Vanity held no place in her life or in her community, but still some days it was hard to accept reality. She had a disfigurement that couldn’t be overlooked. Over the years the members of her community had done just that, continuing to love her and accept her through the flaws.

The Englischers, though, they were different. Some of them would openly stare at her when they stopped by her roadside stand to buy their fresh eggs. They were one of the reasons Lizzie didn’t stray from the farm very often. She couldn’t bear it when people stared at her. Their looks left her feeling ugly and unworthy.

She felt Paul’s gaze on her.

“Lizzie?”

She heard his concern and looked up at him, keeping her face turned ever so slightly.

“You seemed to have gone off there for a minute.”

“Do you know what today is?” The second she blurted out the question, she was filled with regrets. It didn’t do a person good to dwell on the past, to dwell on things that couldn’t be changed, to question the path that God had set forth for them.

Paul looked through the screen door at her, his eyes darkening with emotion. His nod was barely perceptible when he replied. “I do. Ten years to the day of the accident that took your bruder’s life and left you injured.” His voice softened as he continued, “Lizzie, like you, I miss David every day. And like you, I wish we could have changed the outcome.”

She held up her hand. There was no need for him to continue. She knew he was referring to his part in the day. He’d come to the barn just as she’d tried to get David to stop jumping off the hay bales. But David, who had always been the daring sibling, had insisted he could make it from the top all the way down to the bottom in one jump. She had tried her best to grab hold of his arm, but he’d already begun moving through the air when she’d caught hold of him.

Her body had been carried along with his as they’d tumbled down the bales. That was the last thing she remembered before waking up in the hospital. Lizzie pushed the dark memory away as best she could. She looked at Paul. Moving off to the side of the door, Lizzie turned her head ever so slightly to the right, hiding the scar. From the safety of the shadows, she looked up at him, watching as a soft summer breeze ruffled through his dark hair.

Though the Amish did not commemorate the anniversaries of one’s death like some of the Englischers did, she herself always paused for a moment on this day to remember David. He would have been close to twenty-three years old. Three years older than she was right now.

Pushing aside the sadness in her heart, she said, “I’m sorry. I should have begun our conversation with ‘Gut morning, Paul. What brings you around this fine day?’”

Holding the brown paper bag up, he replied in his deep, rich voice, “I have something for you.”

“You know I can’t accept a gift from you.”

“You don’t even know what is inside of here,” he said, swinging the bag back and forth in front of her.

She had to admit he had piqued her curiosity. “Tell me what you brought.”

“I brought you some brushes and watercolor paints.”

Lizzie didn’t like the idea that Paul had gone out of his way to spend his hard-earned money on something just for her. And considering that it wasn’t useful to anyone else, she knew the paints and brushes would have to be kept out of sight.

Thinking how much trouble Paul’s generosity could cause, Lizzie shook her head, saying, “Nee. You’ll have to take these back to where you purchased them. I’m sure you can get your money back.” Furrowing her brow, she gave him a stern look.

“I’ll do no such thing. Besides, I found them at a yard sale, so there’s no use in trying to return them. They only cost me a few dollars, Lizzie. And half of the paints have been used,” he said. Then with a spark in his eyes, he added, “Think of this as my bringing you supplies for your art.”

Lizzie had taken up artwork years ago. Sketching the surrounding landscapes had given her a bit of peace and helped to fill the void left behind after her brother’s death. Since her vader would most certainly frown on using her time to dabble in something most Amish would consider frivolous, Lizzie managed to scrape together a few free hours each month to work on her craft. In her mind her drawings were no different from the beautiful quilts her friends made. Most sold them as a way to supplement their family’s income. All of her drawings were carefully stored in a closet in her bedroom. As it was, Paul wouldn’t even have known about her artwork except that he’d come upon her working on a new sketch at the edge of the back field last week.

The image she’d been drawing was of the freshly mowed hayfield. She’d been drawing the soft, round bales of hay, trying to capture the feel of the image before her, of the golden hues against the dark earth and the sky being bathed in the soft colors of dusk. The black-and-white sketch hadn’t done the scene justice, but Lizzie didn’t have any colors to use on the picture. She’d captured the image as best she could, with her pencil on the heavy white paper.

Resting her head against the doorjamb, she let her imagination wander. The idea that she could add color to her sketches and breathe life into them had her pushing the door open a crack. Seeing the opportunity, Paul shoved the bag into her hand.

“I know you can make good use of these. Your drawings are amazing, Lizzie.”

She felt the skin on her cheeks warm with a blush. Lizzie didn’t get many compliments. “Danke,” she said, gripping the paper bag in her hand. “How is your family?”

Paul shrugged, answering, “They are fine. We’ve been busy at the shop.”

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 out to her husband.

A younger medic caught up with her. “I can let you ride with your husband, but I need you to sit in the front. Do you think you can do that?” he asked.

Susan nodded, casting a glance around the tall man until her gaze found Lizzie. “Lizzie! I need you to come.”

“I’m afraid we can only take one family member.”

Lizzie’s mamm looked as if she were about to burst into tears. Paul watched as she tucked her lower lip between her teeth, squared her shoulders and nodded at the man. Her hands trembled as she reached for the door.

Paul helped her into the front seat of the ambulance, making sure she had the seat belt firmly in place. “I’ll see that she gets to the hospital.”

“Run down to Helen Meyer’s haus. Maybe she can help you get Lizzie to the hospital,” Lizzie’s mamm said.

“We need to get going,” the driver said, putting the rig in gear.

Paul shut the door. Lizzie’s mother smiled nervously from behind the window and nodded as they drove away.

Paul knew what had to be done. He would get Lizzie to the hospital. How could he not?

After the ambulance left, Paul realized he couldn’t take the wagon into Jamestown. The trip would take a few hours by horse, and he couldn’t be sure Lizzie’s vader would survive. They needed to get there as quickly as possible. As Mrs. Miller suggested, he ended up running down to find their Englisch neighbor Helen Meyers, who was standing at the end of her driveway.

“I just saw the ambulance leave the Millers’. What’s going on?”

“It looks like Joseph might have had a heart attack,” Paul responded. Before he could even ask, she graciously offered to take them to the hospital.

“It was a blessing that I filled up my gas tank this morning.”

Paul nodded politely. “I’ll repay you for the gas.”

“There’s no need for that.” She hastened to give him a smile. “We’re neighbors and, Englischer or Plain, neighbors help each other out. Let’s hurry—we don’t want to keep Lizzie waiting.”

He followed her to the back of the driveway and got into the passenger seat of the blue four-door sedan. They found Lizzie standing along the edge of the road, near the Millers’ mailbox. Paul got out and opened the back door, letting Lizzie slide across the seat first. He joined her, barely closing the door before Mrs. Meyers sped off.

Paul turned his head to look at Lizzie. He could see the tight lines around her mouth. She kept her eyes focused straight ahead.

He started to reach out his hand to cover hers but thought better of it. Even though years had passed since the tragedy that shook the Miller family, there were days when Lizzie still seemed so fragile to him. Today would have been a rough day even without her vader’s heart attack.

“Today is the day my bruder died, and my vader suffers from a heart attack. I don’t understand the workings of God.”

“It’s not for us to question his motives, Lizzie.”

“I know.” She turned to look out the window.

They rode the rest of the way in silence. Before they knew it, Helen pulled her car in front of the hospital entrance.

“I’ll let you off here so you can hurry to the emergency room. I’m going to park in the main lot.”

“Please, Mrs. Meyers, you don’t need to stay. I will find a way home,” Lizzie said.

“She’s right, there’s no need for you to spend your day here. I’ll make sure Lizzie gets home. We appreciate your help.” He thanked her again as they left the car.

He cupped Lizzie’s elbow and escorted her through the automatic sliding doors. They whooshed closed behind them. He felt her tense up as people stared at them as they walked over to the reception area. His heart squeezed as he watched Lizzie tip her head down and raise her hand to cover her scarred face. The strongest urge to protect her welled up inside of him. He took a deep breath before coming to a stop at the receptionist’s counter, which was closed off with big sliding glass windows.

Paul tapped lightly on the window, getting the young woman’s attention. She gave him a hard look. Paul attempted a smile. She slid one of the panels open.

“May I help you?”

“My friend, Miss Miller’s father, was brought in by ambulance a short time ago. We were hoping you could direct us to where we can find him.”

“Can I have the name of the patient, please?”

“Joseph Miller.”

The woman typed his name into the computer sitting on her desk, then slid a clipboard across the narrow counter space that separated them, saying, “I’ll need you to sign in here, please. And then have a seat in the waiting area. I’ll call you when you can go down to the Emergency Room.”

“How long do you think it will be?” Lizzie asked.

“I’m not sure.”

Paul picked up the clipboard and handed it to Lizzie, along with a pen. He waited for Lizzie to add her name and then did the same. When they were finished, she exchanged the list for two visitor stickers, which they both stuck to the front of their shirts. He turned and spotted two dark green vinyl chairs set apart from the main waiting area.

“Come on—” he nodded in that direction “—let’s go over there to wait.”

Lizzie went ahead of him and sank down into the first chair. He sat in the chair next to her. A long row of windows ran behind their backs. A low coffee table filled with dog-eared magazines separated them. His gaze settled on her. She sat on the edge of the cushioned seat, with her back hunched over and her hands clenched together on her lap. He felt so helpless and wanted to calm her nerves as best he could. He saw her take in a breath and then slowly exhale.

“Lizzie.” He spoke her name in a low voice. “I’m sure your vader is in good hands. All will be well, I’m sure.”

She pressed her lips together and nodded, keeping her eyes on the double doors at the far end of the room.

“I pray that he is. Danke for staying with me. I know you have other things you need to be doing,” she said, keeping her voice low, as well.

Paul thought about how he’d originally planned to spend the day. For months now he’d had his mind set on breaking away from his family’s furniture business. And he’d decided that this morning, after he’d gone to see Lizzie, would be the time he’d tell his vader about his plan to set up his own furniture shop. His vader’s furniture was very basic and serviceable. But Paul had always favored adding more detail to the pieces, while his vader liked to keep it plain and simple, a reflection of their way of life.

He’d been lucky to find a vacant storefront right next to the general store in the village of Clymer, a few miles south of their settlement. The rent on the space was good, too good to pass up. Not wanting to miss out, Paul had made a verbal agreement with the owner to lease the space. If everything went according to plan, he’d have the doors open as soon as possible. First he had to convince his vader to let him move forward. But deep down Paul knew he would risk the man’s censure to follow his dream of owning his own business.

“I’ve heard rumors about you. About your plans for the future.”

The sound of Lizzie’s soft voice snapped him out of his reverie. “Who told you?”

“Though our land is vast, we live in a very close-knit community. Word gets out,” Lizzie answered. She turned a thoughtful blue-eyed gaze to him. “Are you sure you want to break from your family business?”

He nodded. “I don’t see it as breaking away. Maybe the move could be more of an expansion of the business. I’ve started to pick out the pieces I’m going to sell at the new store. It’s been a dream of mine for a very long time. Sort of like you and your paintings.” He grinned at her.

“I don’t do my paintings for profit.”

“No, you don’t. But I—” His explanation was interrupted when he heard Lizzie’s name being called.

“Come on, I think there’s some news.” Paul guided her over to the reception area. Once there, the woman instructed them on how to get to the emergency room.

He started through the doors and turned back when he realized Lizzie wasn’t with him. She stood in the doorway to the long corridor, pale as a ghost. Her blue eyes were wide as she stared down the hallway.

Rushing over to her, he took her trembling hands in his. “Lizzie, your vader is going to be all right. I know it. Joseph is a strong man. As strong as the oxen he uses to plow the fields.”

She shook her head. “That’s not what I’m thinking about.”

He furrowed his brow in confusion. And then it dawned on him. On the day of the accident that had taken her bruder’s life and left her injured, the ambulance had brought her to this very hospital.

“Lizzie. I’ll be by your side the whole time. I promise,” Paul said.

“The last time I was in this building was all those years ago. I don’t remember everything. Just...there was so much blood.” She started to pull away.

* * *

She felt Paul place his hand under her elbow. For a brief moment Lizzie allowed herself to take comfort from his touch. It would be so easy to let him take the lead, but Lizzie wanted to be strong for her family. As they made their way down a long hallway, she tried hard to ignore the antiseptic smell. The acrid scent brought to mind what little she remembered about that long-ago day. She covered the scar on her face with a hand, feeling the soft ridge of skin, remembering the blood.

Lizzie jumped as the sound of Paul’s voice jarred her back to the present.

“Here we are.” He looked down at her and then nodded in the direction of the emergency room.

Lizzie appreciated the concern in his eyes, even though it did little to calm her nerves.

“Are you going to be okay?”

She dropped her hand against her side, nodding. Lizzie walked with him through another set of sliding glass doors and looked around the brightly lit area. It wasn’t long before she saw her mamm’s plain black shoes poking out from beneath a curtained-off section of the large room. Heading that way, Lizzie slowly pulled back the white curtain and peeked in. Her vader lay on a narrow bed, with wires coming out from beneath a white blanket that covered him. His eyes were closed and his face looked very pale. Thankfully his chest rose and fell in a regular rhythm. Her gaze followed the cords to a monitor on a pole. She heard the beeping of his heart and saw a wavy line running across the flat screen.

“Dochder. You shouldn’t be here.” Her father’s weak voice startled her.

Lizzie stepped into the tiny space, while her mamm stood to gather her in a hug. “It’s going to be all right,” she whispered against Lizzie’s ear.

“I’m worried about you, Vader.”

“I’m...” He paused, struggling to take a deep breath. “I’m going to be out of here in time for the next milking.”

Her mamm gasped. “No, Joseph. That is not what the doctor said.”

“What did they say, mamm?” Lizzie wanted to know.

“They could tell from the EKG that they ran in the ambulance that he’s had a mild heart attack. He needs to stay here for a few more days while they run some more tests. They want to do a procedure called a catheterization to see if there is any damage to your vader’s heart.”

“I won’t be here for any of that,” her vader grumbled. “I am in the middle of the first harvest. It’s not like I have a strong son who can take over.”

Lizzie stiffened at her father’s harsh words. She knew better than he what the family had lost. Even though he’d never come out and accused her, she knew he blamed her for David’s death. She felt her mamm give her hand a quick squeeze.

She released Lizzie, then walked across the polished black-and-white floor tiles to her husband’s bedside. She took his hand in hers and kissed the top of it.

Very quietly, but with a firmness in her tone, she said, “Joseph, you will do exactly as the doctors tell you.”

“But who will take care of the cows and the crops?”

Paul and a tall man dressed in Plain clothes entered their room. Lizzie recognized Amos Yoder, one of the elders in their church district. He stood at the foot of her father’s bed, wearing dark pants and a crisp white shirt tucked beneath his black suspenders. On his head he wore a dark brimmed hat with a black band.

“Joseph,” he said, his deep voice resonating throughout the space. “You will not worry about your crops or your cows. The men and I can each spare a son to help out until you are well enough. The boys will rotate their days.”

Her vader sighed. He avoided making eye contact with her. “See, this mess has already brought the two of you away from your work.”

“It was nothing, Joseph. I was at the house, visiting already, and didn’t mind coming with Lizzie to the hospital,” Paul said.

Taking her mamm aside, Lizzie knew she and Paul had stayed past their time. And she didn’t want to be the cause of any more stress for her vader.

“Mamm, I think I’ll go home. I’ve kept Paul here long enough, and I have much to tend to back at the house.”

“Ja, Lizzie, you go home. If there are men working at our fields and in our barns, they will eventually need to be fed. You must cook for them.”

“Ja. Of course.” Her mamm led her back to her vader’s bedside so she could say goodbye. “Vader, I don’t want you to worry about the farm. I can help keep things running.” Lizzie tried her best to put on a brave front. But the truth was she was worried.

“Ach!” Her vader half raised a hand off the bed, swishing it in the air as if swatting at a fly. “You go home and do your chores, Dochder. I’ll be fine.”

Though she wanted with all her heart to believe him, she couldn’t be certain how much damage his heart had sustained. Lizzie bent to kiss him on the cheek, but he turned his head, avoiding her touch. Fighting back the tears, she simply patted him on the shoulder and left the emergency room. She walked back down the long corridor with Paul. The stale antiseptic smells receded with each step she took. Lizzie made it to the main waiting room and exhaled.

She turned to Paul and said, “Take me home, please.”

They stepped out of the sterile air of the hospital into the fresh air and fading sunlight of another hot summer day. Lizzie stood looking at the golden light, thankful to God above that her vader had survived. While she waited, Paul found them a cab to take them home.

Lizzie settled into the back seat, relieved to be going home. Paul got in and sat next to her. The car was small, and their shoulders bumped. Lizzie could feel the warmth coming from Paul’s body. He’d been so kind to her today. But she couldn’t allow him to be away from his own work. They both needed to get back to Miller’s Crossing. She couldn’t bear to be away from home for too long; even the short time away today left her feeling uneasy. She worried about what she was going to find when she got back to the farm. There was livestock to be fed and cows to be milked. She had no idea where her vader had left the tractor or who was going to see to the remainder of the cutting in the field he’d been harvesting this morning.

Lizzie felt the uncertainty creeping in like fog on a cool morning. She tried with all her might to bolster her confidence, thinking she could do this for her father. She owed him all the help she could give him. She could run things while he was in the hospital, couldn’t she? Lizzy breathed a sigh of relief as the cab turned onto the road that led to the Miller farm.

And then she gasped in surprise at the sight that greeted her.