“I hate you and I never want to speak to you again,” Lizzie spewed the words out like venom as soon as she walked through the door and stomped to her room. Tossing the gift from Jeremiah on the bed, she sat down and swiped at a tear she felt rolling down her cheek. Opening the envelope, she took out Jeremiah’s letter and read it again.
Mother opened Lizzie’s door.
Anger welled up in Lizzie as her hands tightened on the letter. “You lied to me.”
“Elizabeth Ruth Ambrewster.”
“Peterson, my last name is Peterson,” Lizzie corrected her in a low, gravelly voice. Right now, she didn’t want to be their daughter, or even their great-great-great-granddaughter. Jeremiah was the only one holding her here—to this life. If she couldn’t have him, she wanted to go home—to her real home. “I can’t believe you had the audacity to tell me you were going to ask your husband to allow Jeremiah to come for lunch next Sunday, and all along you knew he was going to tell Jeremiah he wasn’t welcome.”
Mother’s mouth opened in what Lizzie assumed was surprise, or perhaps she was astounded at Lizzie’s outburst.
Maybe she didn’t know, but it didn’t matter, and it certainly didn’t change the situation.
Lizzie wanted to fix things between her and Jeremiah. But how? Cell phones hadn’t been invented yet, and not every home even had a regular phone. Jeremiah’s didn’t. To make matters worse, Lizzie didn’t have a car, so she couldn’t just pick up and go see if he’d gone home.
“I gave you my word,” Mother said. “I fully intended to talk to your father. But it appears you are the one not keeping up your end of the bargain. Poor Henry looks upset. He insisted that his grandmother leave with him immediately.”
“Good.” At least someone had the decency to show some decorum. “You should have never tried to play matchmaker. You knew how I felt about Jeremiah.”
Mother sighed and moved closer. “May I sit down?”
Lizzie scooted over to make room.
Taking a seat, Mother turned and reached a hand out toward Lizzie, but Lizzie moved, and Mother settled for folding her hands in her lap. “Please tell me what happened after you left? What made you so upset?”
Her throat felt constricted. Instead of telling Mother, Lizzie handed her the letter.
“What dream?” Mother asked. “Were you planning to run away? Or did he think your father would ask you to leave home if you went against his wishes?” Mother’s eyes were wide and intense as she stared at Lizzie.
“You wouldn’t understand.” Which was true. When Lizzie woke that morning back in April, Father threatened to have her committed. Telling either of them the truth wasn’t an option. She needed to find a job, in case she couldn’t get back home. After what Father did, she had no intention of staying in his house any longer than she had to be there. “I need to finish my quilt.”
Mother nodded and walked to the door. Pausing, she turned around and looked at Lizzie, her eyes filled with concern. “You know your father only wants what’s best for you.”
“Then why did he threaten Jeremiah?”
Mother didn’t have an answer for her question.
“Tell me this, did your parents force you to marry Father against your will, or were you truly in love with him?”
“I was in love with him,” Mother said. “We married when we were teenagers.”
“And it had nothing to do with his education or his job?” Lizzie asked.
She shook her head in response to Lizzie’s question.
“Then if you were both allowed to choose each other, why do you insist on interfering in my life? Shouldn’t I be able to choose who I want to marry too?”
“I’m sorry, Lizzie.” Mother closed her eyes a moment and sighed. “I promise to talk about the situation with Father tonight.”
Lizzie stayed up until the wee hours of the morning working on the quilt. She still needed the fabric from Mother’s curtains, which wouldn’t be delivered for another four to six weeks. As the night wore on, her mind became number, clouded with decisions until sleep overtook her. By the time she woke, she realized it was too late to make it to the train station to catch a ride to St. Louis.
After dressing, Lizzie wandered into the dining room, intent on finding something to eat. Father was seated at the table. Normally, he would have already left for work. She averted her gaze, darting toward the kitchen.
“Lizzie,” Father said. “I know you’re upset but hear me out.”
She stopped, fists clenched at her sides.
“Unless you plan to tell me you were wrong, and you insist on driving me to St. Louis so that you can apologize to Jeremiah, then I have nothing to say to you.”
“If that’s what it will take,” Father said, “Get yourself something to eat and we’ll leave in the next half hour.”
Lizzie’s mouth dropped. “You’re serious?”
Father nodded. “I’m sorry, Lizzie. I shouldn’t have interfered. Your mother was right, Jeremiah is a good man, and with the love of a good woman by his side, a good man can do anything.”
She almost ran to hug him but reminded herself that his actions were the reason she was in this situation to begin with. “I’ll be ready.”
What should have taken less than four hours to drive, took closer to six because they didn’t have the interstates and faster speed to travel. The first hour-and-a-half, Lizzie worked on her quilt until sleepiness overtook her and she dosed off until Father woke her for directions in the city.
By the time they arrived at Jeremiah’s house, her heart beat faster than the tune to The Little Drummer Boy.
“Wait here,” Lizzie said. “I’ll go talk to him first.”
Lizzie tucked strands of her long brown hair behind her ear, silently wishing she’d had time to make herself more presentable.
Jeremiah’s parents’ home was a fourth the size of the house she lived in now. Lizzie had been inside, and even upstairs to where the two small bedrooms and an equally tiny area between the rooms that served as Jeremiah’s bedroom. To her, they were tiny houses before their time, or maybe they had just become popular again in the future. She climbed the stairs to the older, home and knocked on the grayish-blue wooden door.
The minutes ticked by slowly before Jeremiah’s younger brother, Nehemiah, answered the door. “Lizzie?”
Nehemiah looked a lot like Jeremiah, except his face was fuller and he was an inch shorter. It was obvious he was surprised to see her by his stunned silence and dropped-jaw.
The surprise on Nehemiah’s face concerned Lizzie. “Can I speak with Jeremiah?”
“He’s gone, Lizzie.” Nehemiah’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “He took a train last night and said he took on a longer run. He said wouldn’t be able to make it home for a long while but would send money to help out.”
Air whooshed out of Lizzie’s lung, making her chest tighten. “He didn’t tell you which route he was going to be working on?”
“No.”
“I’ve got to speak with him, Nehemiah.” Lizzie took a step closer to Jeremiah’s brother, her eyes boring into his. “Father’s had a change of heart. He even came to apologize.”
Nehemiah looked past Lizzie, to where Father was waiting in the car. “I don’t know what to say, Lizzie.” Nehemiah’s eyes softened as he met her gaze. “I promise I’ll tell him as soon as we hear from him, but he was pretty upset when he left. It may be a while before I can get word to him.”
A tear trickled down her cheek.
“Don’t lose heart, Lizzie.” Nehemiah squeezed her shoulders gently. “Jeremiah will be so excited to hear the news. He loves you and he’ll wait for you. I’m sure of it.”