Paul stood on the Millers’ front porch with a bouquet of wildflowers in his hands. The late summer daisies and the lavender he’d found alongside the road fluttered in the breeze. He hadn’t seen Lizzie in two very long days. He’d wanted to come earlier but knew she and her family needed time. For him, though, time was running out. Over these past months he’d grown to know Lizzie so well. He knew what made her smile and what made her pull away. It was the pulling away part that had him worried.
She’d given him her heart the other day. And then, just like that, it had been taken away. He stood there on the porch with the bees buzzing in the bushes next to it. A pot clanged in the kitchen. He heard female voices. He leaned in, listening for the sound of her voice. Shuffling his feet, he raised his hand and knocked on the door.
Lizzie’s mamm answered the door. “Good afternoon, Paul.”
“Mrs. Miller, I’m not going to waste any time with pleasantries. I need to see your dochder.”
“If it’s Lizzie you’re coming to see, I’m afraid she’s refusing to take any visitors at this time.”
Expecting this to happen, he said, “I understand. I brought these flowers for her.” Extending his hand, he waited for her to receive them.
She took them from him, pausing to smell the fragrant scent. Raising her eyes, she said, “Danke. I’ll be sure to give these to her.”
“Please tell your dochder that I still love her.” Paul walked away, leaving a bit of his heart behind.
Paul returned two days later, determined to see Lizzie. This time he was met at the door by Mary, who informed him that Lizzie had gone for a walk. He was about to climb up into the buggy when he caught sight of her walking around the far side of the barn. She didn’t see him, and Paul used that to his advantage. In a few long strides he stood before her. She came to an abrupt halt in front of him.
Lizzie drew her mouth into a thin line and he thought all might be lost. Then he looked into her eyes and saw her profound sadness. The way he figured it, she wouldn’t be looking that way if she didn’t still love him.
Not wasting any time, he got right to the point of this visit. “Lizzie, I know you’re angry with me. I’ve come to apologize for what happened the other day. I had no idea that man would come here. I’m sorry he did.”
Lizzie sidestepped around him. He spun around, wasting no time in catching up with her brisk pace.
“Come on, Lizzie. Talk to me.”
Ignoring him, she kept right on moving, trying to outpace him, which of course was a ridiculous thing to try and do, considering she had to take two steps to his one.
“Lizzie. Please.”
Finally she stopped moving. With her back to him, she spoke. “You need to leave.”
He shook his head. “I’m not leaving.”
“You can’t stay where you’re not wanted.”
“I’m not leaving until you listen to what I came here to say.”
He reached out a hand and touched her upper arm, gently turning her to face him. “Lizzie, I love you. And you told me you loved me. I believe, here—” he fisted his free hand, thumping it against his chest, his voice breaking as he continued “—in my heart, that you still do.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her mouth tried to get the words out. Finally she managed to say, “I can’t love you anymore.”
“Lizzie, you can’t mean those words,” he implored her.
“I should never have let you convince me to continue with my watercolors. By doing so, I’ve brought nothing but pain and shame into my parents’ home.” Shaking her head, she said, “I’ve put my paintings away.”
“Nee, Lizzie.” Over and over he shook his head. “Nee. The Lord gave you that talent for a reason.”
Raising her hand, she held it out in front of her as if to push his words away. “Nee. The Lord would never bring this pain on me. No matter how much I loved you, I can’t bear the thought that I broke my parents’ hearts yet again. Please don’t sell any more of my watercolors. I don’t care what you do with them, but don’t sell any more.”
Then Lizzie ran up the walkway, raced across the porch and hid inside the shelter of the Miller home. Paul could hear her sobs coming from inside the house. Choking back tears, he hung his head. This wasn’t how he wanted things between them to end. Without Lizzie in his life, he had nothing. He wasn’t about to let her go without putting up a fight. Because he knew Gott intended for them to be together. But how could he convince her?
Another three days passed. Three days in which he closed himself off from the world. Standing in the middle of the Burkholder Amish Furniture Store, with his hands on his hips, Paul surveyed his handiwork. Though the spot where the dining room set stood was now empty, his plans were to replace it with a brand-new one. But without Lizzie, the joy he took in working with his hands had dimmed. Without her by his side, he felt as if nothing mattered. He looked at the walls where her watercolors hung.
Fighting back the pain, he walked over to the painting she’d done of the field where they’d had their first picnic. He remembered how excited she’d been seeing the view from the hillside. Paul could still see the way her hand had moved over the page. Brushstroke after brushstroke, she’d created this stunning image with seemingly little effort.
He’d fallen in love with her even more that day.
She’d come so far since then. He’d watched her confidence blossom as she’d been brave enough to trust in her talent and to trust in them. He couldn’t let her escape back into seclusion. Lizzie didn’t belong on the farm. She belonged out in the world, where she could share her artwork. She belonged with him.
Looking at the yellows and greens, he still felt the awe of her talent.
Her Gott-given talent.
He couldn’t let her throw this all away. She’d been given that talent for a reason. Just like others in the community created beautiful quilts, Lizzie’s hands created lovely watercolors. Her heart and soul were in these watercolors. He knew she’d never be able to forgive herself if she stopped creating art and left all of this behind. Lizzie wasn’t meant to be a farmer’s wife. She was an artist.
Reaching up, he took the framed watercolor off the wall. He carried it to the back room, wrapped it in brown packing paper, cut a length of string from the spool that hung on the pegboard and then tied a neat string bow on the top. Carrying the painting under his arm, Paul walked out of the shop.
The trip out to the Miller farm didn’t take more than twenty minutes, but to Paul it felt as if hours had passed. His insides were telling him he needed to get to Lizzie. When he finally made it to their property, he stopped the buggy next to the barn. His horse pawed at the soft earth. Paul’s senses picked up. As he jumped down from the buggy seat, he heard the sounds of crying coming from inside the barn. Quickly he went to the building, peering inside the tall sliding doors. Dust motes danced around his shadow. A woman stood in the middle of the large room. He could see her arms wrapped around her middle. The prayer kapp covered her honey-colored hair.
Lizzie.
She gave no indication that she’d seen him. Paul stepped into the dimness, heading straight for her. In long, easy strides he met up with her in the middle of the barn and gathered her in his arms. She nestled her head underneath his chin as he held her close, feeling her shaking. Rubbing his hands along her back, Paul tried to ease her pain.
“Oh, my dear, sweet Lizzie. Please don’t cry.”
“I’ve ruined everything,” she sobbed into his chest.
“No, no. You haven’t ruined anything.”
He let her cry some more, holding her as tightly as he could, willing his strength to flow to her. Praying for his own strength. Remembering that horrible day so long ago. The very day that had set their future in motion.
Paul knew that David wouldn’t want to see his sister in so much pain. He knew that David would want her to forgive herself.
“Lizzie,” he said, taking a chance that he was sharing the things her bruder would want her to hear. “It’s time for you to forgive yourself. You need to let go of the past...let go of things we can’t change.”
She continued to cry, shaking her head against his chest.
“Lizzie. You need to forgive yourself. Please forgive me. We’ve come so far. I can’t let you go now. Please don’t make me let you go.”
“I...I’m so filled with pain. I don’t know what to do with any of these feelings.”
“Give them up to the Lord. He will protect you and heal you. Lizzie, I know together we can bring the light back.”
She stepped away from him. Scrubbing her hand across her face, she looked down at the floorboards. It was then he noticed the crumpled paper. He bent down and picked it up.
“What’s this?”
“The picture of the barn I’ve been working on. The image has been stuck in my mind for so long, I finally put it down on paper. You’ve seen this...” she said, hiccupping.
Paul worked to smooth out the wrinkled edges, seeing that it was indeed the watercolor of the barn. He focused on the lilac bush.
Tapping the spot with a finger, he said, “This isn’t here any longer.”
“The bush was there the day David died,” she explained. Sweeping her hand out in front of her, she whispered, “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Wait here—I’ll be right back.” Taking the picture of the barn with him, Paul hurried out to the buggy, where he exchanged it for the one he’d brought from the shop.
He came back inside and handed it to her. “Here, open this.”
Her fingers trembled as she pulled the string loose, releasing the brown paper.
“Look at this picture.” He tapped the glass. “This is the watercolor you painted the day we went on our picnic. I know you remember this day, Lizzie.”
She shoved the painting back at him, turning her face away from him. Cupping her face in his hand, Paul had her facing him again. Though he could see her turmoil, he knew he had to convince her that they needed to be together.
“Every painting you do shows your beauty and your strength. The day we went to this field for our picnic, that was the day I fell in love with you. No matter what happens, Lizzie, I will always love you. And nothing you can say or do will ever change how I feel.”
“I won’t let you love me!” Lizzie shouted as she ran past him, out of the barn.
Clutching the painting in one hand, Paul went after her.
“Paul!” Joseph Miller’s voice boomed behind him.
He stopped in his tracks, watching Lizzie moving away from him one more time. He turned to find her vader standing in front of the barn doors. He wondered how long the man had been outside.
“Ja. I heard what you said to my dochder.”
“Then you know I love her.”
“I do. But I also know you need to give her a little more time.”
“I’m not sure I can do that.”
The man’s bushy eyebrows pulled together as his stare bore down on Paul. He waited.
“I’ve looked at Lizzie’s paintings. I understand why she does them. You are right—she has been given a great talent. I know she’s been doing nothing but using it for the good of our family. Perhaps I’ve been hard on her. These years have not been easy ones, Paul.”
“I know, sir.”
“I needed her to marry a farmer. Instead she has fallen in love with a furniture maker. One who, I might add, convinced her to keep secrets from her family.”
Joseph wagged a finger at him, “Your vader and I were very close to going to the bishop over your actions. In the end, though, we’ve decided your decisions, while misguided, had been made for the right reasons.”
Frowning, Paul didn’t know if he should apologize or defend his actions and feelings for the man’s dochder. In the end Joseph was the one to concede.
“Like it or not, my Lizzie loves you. If you can convince her to come back to you, you have my blessing to be married.”