Free Running Around (and Such) by Linda Byler

were you doing last evening when I was here?” Mam asked, tucking a stray hair behind Mandy’s ear.
    Mandy told Mam all about the pickup truck and the strange man with tattoos and long hair. Mam shook her head at Dat.
    “Ach my, Melvin.”
    “There wasn’t a thing wrong with him. Not a thing,” Dat assured her.
    “I guess,” Mam said. “And I’ve often told the girls we can’t judge a person by his looks, can we? But … I would feel better if you stayed at home as much as you can, Melvin.”
    “I will,” Dat said.
    Mam told them the doctor’s diagnosis of her condition. She had acute pneumonia, the worst kind. The doctor wanted to keep her in the hospital for another three to four days to see if her cough stabilized. He warned Mam that it would take months to gain back her usual strength and that she should take it easy as much as she could.
    Emma plucked at the crisp white sheet covering Mam’s legs. Lizzie knew she worried about the farm. The herd of cows Dat was buying would not arrive for a few weeks, so that would give them time to finish cleaning up. There was so much painting to be done, but Dat assured Mam that would have to wait until she felt better.
    Mam sighed and turned her head.
    “We’re making you too tired, talking about all this work, aren’t we?” Emma said.
    “No, I just wish I wouldn’t have to be here in the hospital.”
    There was silence while Dat gazed out the window. She would help Emma, Lizzie decided, and try not to complain about anything. She wished their house was not so ugly. She knew they had the sloppiest house of anyone in Cameron County, and now they couldn’t paint or fix it up for months.
    Suppose someone came to visit? She wouldn’t even go to the door. It just wasn’t right, having Mam in the hospital and they couldn’t do a thing to improve their awful house.
    “Why can’t me and Mandy paint?” she asked.
    “Oh, I don’t know,” Mam said. “You’re hardly old enough to do the woodwork. I don’t know if you could use a roller on the walls or not. Maybe if Emma did the trimming.”
    Lizzie’s face lit up with enthusiasm. “We can! Me and Mandy can use rollers and Emma can use a brush along the edges!”
    “We watched you when you painted the new house!” Mandy chimed in.
    That seemed to cheer Mam immensely. She told the girls how to set the roller pans on newspaper, and how much paint was the right amount when they put the rollers in them. She decided they were allowed to do their rooms upstairs, but the woodwork would have to wait. She didn’t want the girls working with that high gloss enamel. Besides, they would not be able to do it without making a mess on the walls.
    When a nurse came in to take Mam’s temperature, Dat said it was time to leave. Visiting hours would soon be over. Mam smiled, even if her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Lizzie thought she must be the bravest person in the whole world right at that moment.

Chapter 13

    T HAT FIRST SPRING IN Cameron County, Lizzie’s life seemed to take on new meaning. Mam was home from the hospital. And Lizzie loved every minute of that one day a week when she went to school. She would get up in the morning, fret and worry about her looks, her hair, how her dress was made, how her covering fit, and whether her complexion was normal or if she was breaking out with those dreaded pimples.
    The warm sun and frequent rains meant that their new garden was full of produce. Lizzie ate crisp, red radishes and long, thin spring onions that crunched like a pretzel but tasted even better.
    At lunchtime, Dat would spread butter on a thick slice of homemade bread, sprinkle salt beside his plate until he had made a little pile, then select a spring onion. He would dip the onion in the salt, bite it off and quickly take a bite of the buttered bread, and then chew the two together.
    Lizzie piled four or five spring onions on a piece of bread and folded it over to make a thick onion sandwich. Sometimes she