minor frustrations, like stumbling occasionally or bouts of blurry vision.
One warm Sunday evening, Stephen and Lizzie decided to sit under the old apple tree in the pasture instead of sitting as they normally did in the living room. The grass was soft and cushiony, so after their walk, they sat side by side in the soft, warm darkness.
Stephen was acting a bit strange, Lizzie thought, having less to say than usual, which really, on ordinary days, was never very much at all. Lizzie tried gamely to keep up a lively conversation, but she didn’t get a very positive response from Stephen.
Finally, she could stand it no longer, so she blurted out, “Why don’t you have anything to say this weekend? You’re much quieter than usual.”
Stephen didn’t answer until Lizzie became quite uncomfortable.
Then, all he said was, “I’d like to build a house someday.”
“A house!” Lizzie squeaked, her heart plummeting to her stomach.
“Yes.”
“You mean to sell? Or for yourself, or … I mean, where would you build it? Do you know how to build a house by yourself?”
“Of course. That’s what I do.”
“Oh, yes. I guess.”
There was a soft silence as dogs barked in the distance. Headlights created an arc of light as a car rounded the bend, the kitchen door slammed as someone went out to the front porch, and still Stephen said nothing.
Lizzie gnawed at the corner of her thumbnail, cleared her throat, sighed, glanced nervously in Stephen’s direction, and wondered what was going on. Surely he wasn’t contemplating marriage this weekend, as he had been having the time of his life with all of his friends, playing baseball, going on day trips, talking about walking that dreaded—in Lizzie’s opinion—Appalachian Trail again. Stephen’s first trip had just about ended their relationship, and Lizzie wasn’t sure she could handle it if Stephen went hiking for a month again.
And then, oh sickening thought, she wondered if he wanted to end the relationship, to have absolute freedom to go on long trips or just do as he wanted. He had acted like it lately, now that she thought about it.
She held her breath as he reached down and took away her hand.
“Don’t do that. You’ll chew a hole in your thumb.”
There was a space of a few heartbeats as his hand tightened on hers, and he leaned closer.
Then, very softly, he said, “Lizzie, do you think we could build a small house on an acre of your dad’s land?”
“W … We?”
“Yes, we.”
“I … I don’t know. I guess we could ask him sometime.”
“No, not sometime. Next week. We have to know if we want to live in our house this winter.”
Lizzie drew a deep breath. “You … you mean … ?”
“Would you live in a new little house with me, Lizzie?”
“We’d … I … we’d have to get married first?” she breathed.
“Of course. If I asked you tonight, would you marry me?”
“Well, are you asking?”
“Yes.”
Lizzie sighed happily, turned to him, and said, “Yes, I will. I will marry you and live in a little house with you.”
Stephen laughed happily. “All my hopes and dreams have come true, Lizzie!”
Lizzie, as usual, felt awkward and wasn’t sure how to answer. For one thing, she was so happy she had to fight back her tears, and for another thing, the lump in her throat threatened to choke her, so she just sat there and swallowed. She couldn’t speak at the moment, although a thousand questions rained in from every direction, wherever thoughts came from. For once in her life, she was absolutely speechless. She wanted to tell him it was a dream come true for her, too, which it was, but to be perfectly honest, she was a bit afraid. How did they know the dream come true would remain a good dream?
So she said, “We’ll be very happy, I’m sure.”
There was nothing wrong with that, was there? Of course not. Of course they would be very happy together. Maybe not 100 percent of the time. Like all the Amish preachers said,
One warm Sunday evening, Stephen and Lizzie decided to sit under the old apple tree in the pasture instead of sitting as they normally did in the living room. The grass was soft and cushiony, so after their walk, they sat side by side in the soft, warm darkness.
Stephen was acting a bit strange, Lizzie thought, having less to say than usual, which really, on ordinary days, was never very much at all. Lizzie tried gamely to keep up a lively conversation, but she didn’t get a very positive response from Stephen.
Finally, she could stand it no longer, so she blurted out, “Why don’t you have anything to say this weekend? You’re much quieter than usual.”
Stephen didn’t answer until Lizzie became quite uncomfortable.
Then, all he said was, “I’d like to build a house someday.”
“A house!” Lizzie squeaked, her heart plummeting to her stomach.
“Yes.”
“You mean to sell? Or for yourself, or … I mean, where would you build it? Do you know how to build a house by yourself?”
“Of course. That’s what I do.”
“Oh, yes. I guess.”
There was a soft silence as dogs barked in the distance. Headlights created an arc of light as a car rounded the bend, the kitchen door slammed as someone went out to the front porch, and still Stephen said nothing.
Lizzie gnawed at the corner of her thumbnail, cleared her throat, sighed, glanced nervously in Stephen’s direction, and wondered what was going on. Surely he wasn’t contemplating marriage this weekend, as he had been having the time of his life with all of his friends, playing baseball, going on day trips, talking about walking that dreaded—in Lizzie’s opinion—Appalachian Trail again. Stephen’s first trip had just about ended their relationship, and Lizzie wasn’t sure she could handle it if Stephen went hiking for a month again.
And then, oh sickening thought, she wondered if he wanted to end the relationship, to have absolute freedom to go on long trips or just do as he wanted. He had acted like it lately, now that she thought about it.
She held her breath as he reached down and took away her hand.
“Don’t do that. You’ll chew a hole in your thumb.”
There was a space of a few heartbeats as his hand tightened on hers, and he leaned closer.
Then, very softly, he said, “Lizzie, do you think we could build a small house on an acre of your dad’s land?”
“W … We?”
“Yes, we.”
“I … I don’t know. I guess we could ask him sometime.”
“No, not sometime. Next week. We have to know if we want to live in our house this winter.”
Lizzie drew a deep breath. “You … you mean … ?”
“Would you live in a new little house with me, Lizzie?”
“We’d … I … we’d have to get married first?” she breathed.
“Of course. If I asked you tonight, would you marry me?”
“Well, are you asking?”
“Yes.”
Lizzie sighed happily, turned to him, and said, “Yes, I will. I will marry you and live in a little house with you.”
Stephen laughed happily. “All my hopes and dreams have come true, Lizzie!”
Lizzie, as usual, felt awkward and wasn’t sure how to answer. For one thing, she was so happy she had to fight back her tears, and for another thing, the lump in her throat threatened to choke her, so she just sat there and swallowed. She couldn’t speak at the moment, although a thousand questions rained in from every direction, wherever thoughts came from. For once in her life, she was absolutely speechless. She wanted to tell him it was a dream come true for her, too, which it was, but to be perfectly honest, she was a bit afraid. How did they know the dream come true would remain a good dream?
So she said, “We’ll be very happy, I’m sure.”
There was nothing wrong with that, was there? Of course not. Of course they would be very happy together. Maybe not 100 percent of the time. Like all the Amish preachers said,
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