Smicksburg Tales 1,2 & 3 (Amish Knitting Circle, Amish Friends Knitting Circle & Amish Knit Lit Cirlce ~ Complete Series: 888 pages for Granny Weaver Lovers and 30+ Amish Recipes

by Karen Anna Vogel

  “Nee, it’s fine.”

  “Would you mind showing me the inside? Walk the property with me?”

  Jacob looked over at his friends. “I have company and I don’t see the point. It’s sold.”

  “What if I offered more?”

  Lizzie felt the shock that was on Jacob’s face. “We shook on it. The farm is sold.”

  “No contract signed?”

  Lizzie knew the Amish felt their word was better than a signed contract. Why was Amos asking such a question? He was in Lydia’s church district and all the people she met in Lancaster seemed Amish to their core.

  Jacob’s eyes darkened. “My word is my contract. You’re Amish. You should know that.”

  Amos spun around and got back into the buggy, obviously irritated. Lizzie said good-bye to Jacob and tried to smile. “Your Amish need to be more progressive,” he blurted.

  “Progressive has the root word of progress. I don’t think it’s progress to go back on your word. You should know that.”

  “What if this English couple doesn’t honor a verbal agreement? So few of them are honest.”

  Lizzie sat up straight. “It’s the principal that matters. Let your yes be yes the Bible says.”

  He slowed the buggy down and looked at her. “You’re the kind of Amish woman who could keep me in line.”

  ~*~

  When they got to Granny’s driveway, Lizzie asked Amos to pull in. She’d told Granny she’d stop by and introduce Amos to her. She also was in a desperate need of tea. As they pulled down the dirt driveway, Amos complained again about all the ditches. Lizzie bit her lower lip, eager to get out of the buggy. When it came to a stop, she hopped out and headed straight to Granny’s door and walked in, not waiting for Amos. She was shocked at some of his ideas, and needed a hug from Granny.

  Granny was in her rocker, counting birds. When she saw Lizzie she stood up and Lizzie hugged her tight. “What’s wrong, Lizzie?”

  Lizzie turned to see Amos in the doorway. “Ach, I need some tea. I’m freezing.”

  “I’ll put some water on then,” Granny said, looking over at Amos. “You can come in after you take your muddy boots off. You can place them on the mat.”

  “Granny, I’m so sorry. I just walked right in, not thinking.” Lizzie made her way over to the door and took off her black boots. “I’ll mop up your floor before I leave.”

  Granny swatted at the air. “I can do it. Don’t you worry.”

  “Where’s Jeb?”

  “Over at the Bylers, cutting ice.”

  Amos sat down at the table. “Why would men cut ice?”

  Granny put her hands on her waist. “Don’t pull my leg. You know why. Lancaster can’t be that different.”

  “Nee, I’m not joking,” Amos said, waiting for an answer.

  “To get ice,” Granny said.

  “And you need lots of ice for a gathering of some sort? Is that it?”

  Granny walked over to her icebox and opened the door. “This here icebox was my mamm’s. We put blocks of ice in this here side.” Granny opened the other door to show him where she kept her food. “Made of solid oak.”

  Amos put a hand over his mouth, as if hiding a grin. “Well, I’ve never seen one. We’ve been using gas refrigerators for ages.”

  Granny went over to get mugs. “Well, we voted on propane ones last year, and now they’re allowed, but I won’t part with my icebox. Besides, my husband loves to cut the ice.”

  “Now you’re pulling my leg. He cuts ice from a pond?”

  “After they ice fish. Jeb’s been doing it with his buddies since he was a teen. He’s out hauling ice today.”

  Amos studied Granny. “You’re not joking; I can tell. Well, if I move out here I’ll be getting a real refrigerator.”

  Lizzie didn’t know if Amos realized how arrogant he was appearing. She was in Lancaster for almost a month, and knew there were some Amish who still adhered to the older ways, especially the elderly who saw no need for change. “Granny, I think it’s wunderbar you treasure your icebox; it shows how much you cherish your mamm’s memory.”

  Amos smiled at her. “I agree. It’s inspiring really. And your husband is brave to go out on ice and cut it. I couldn’t.”

  Granny put two mugs of tea on the table. “Danki,” Amos said.

  Lizzie realized that Amos was most likely exhausted from his trip, and having such little time to look at farms, was a bit nervous. He’d also mentioned being away from his kinner made him uneasy. She remembered how odd she felt in Lancaster at first; she was sure Amos was just overwhelmed by his surroundings.

  ~*~

  That night Amos took Lizzie out to watch the stars. She’d hardly ever looked at the stars in winter, always being too cold. But Amos brought his thermos on the bus, and now had it filled with hot chocolate.

  He took out his binoculars. “These are for watching stars.” He adjusted the binoculars as he looked up into the night sky. “I’ll focus them, and then let you take a peek.”

  “So, any farms we saw today interest you?”

  “I’d like to take another look at the one on Mahoning Road, by the Baptist church.”

  “Ach, you’d have such goot neighbors. Jerry and Janice came here years ago from down south.”

  “And you say they’re goot friends?”

  “Jah. They plan to open a house for homeless mamms.”

  “Where’re their husbands?”

  “They aren’t married. Janice says it’s the churches job to help those who can’t help themselves.”

  “But doesn’t that promote sin?”

  “Nee. We have a girl who comes to our knitting circle now that gave birth to twins. She repented and now needs built up. Women like that will be coming to the Baptist for help.”

  Amos put down his binoculars. “Don’t you think it will send a message to young Amish girls in this area, that if they’re promiscuous, and say a simple ‘I’m sorry’, it’ll make it easier for them to fall into temptation?”

  “If you met Lavina, you’d know she’s paid a heavy price for her sin, and she has lots of scars. Sin leaves scars, but the love of God can erase them. I think that’s what Jerry and Janice are trying to do.”

  “Well, we’re not bound to agree on this matter. Sin needs to be dealt with harshly.”

  “Amos, you’re Amish. You know that if someone strays and kneels before the People and confesses their sin, all is forgiven, and forgotten.”

  “Well, I know a girl who gave birth to a kinner out of wedlock, got caught, and repented. She ended up leaving with her English boyfriend a few months later.”

  “I think we should do the Christian thing and forgive, always thinking the best of others.”

  Amos turned toward her. “You’re a goot woman, Lizzie. So, you’re saying we’re to love others and there’s healing in that?”

  “Jah. I believe that.”

  “Well, it gives me something to think about. My judgmental ways can blind me at times, so my bishop says.”

  ~*~

  Ruth looked at her bird tally for the first three days of the four-day count. More finches by far than the bickering blue jays and cardinals. She peered out the window at the cylinder finch feeder; they live in harmony; was it a sign she and Luke would have peace in their home eventually?

  “Guder mariyer, Ruth,” Luke said.

  “Jah, guder mariyer. I got up with the birds,” Ruth said with nervous laughter. How much longer could she keep Luke sleeping in Micah’s room? Why did she yearn to be held by him one minute and felt repulsed the next? “I can make some fresh coffee if you’d like. There’s eggs and pancakes still warm in the oven.”

  Luke put his hand up. “I can make coffee. Danki. I was thinking we should have Bible reading together. Jeb said it’s the best part of his and Granny’s day.”

  “Maryann suggested the same thing…”

  “Do you want to wait until after your bird count to start?”

  Ruth looked out of the fr
osted window. A beautiful pattern of ice crystals formed across the edges of the pane. She noticed some thawing as ice streaks ran down into other clusters of frost. Could her heart melt too; was it already? “We can start today, Luke. That would be goot. Micah’s still in bed.”

  Luke poured coffee into his blue speckle ware mug and sat in the rocker next to Ruth, Bible tucked under one arm. “I was thinking we read the Psalms first. They’re light hearted.”

  “Okay,” Ruth said, picking up the shawl she was knitting. “Do you mind if I knit while you read?”

  “Can you pay attention?”

  “Knitting calms me so I can hear better.”

  “Alright. Here we go with Psalm 1 and then I’ll go on to chapter 2.” Luke read slowly, stammering over words. How many times had he tried to read aloud like most Amish men, but she’d clucked her tongue or rolled her eyes as he stammered? Conviction washed over her. It was no excuse for his behavior, but she was hard on him, not respecting him, and she needed to apologize.

  When he finished he put the Bible gently in his lap. “Ruth, I feel like the first verse of chapter one is good advice. I’m glad the elders and bishop live by this Bible.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, let me read it again:

  Blessed is the man

  Who walks not in the counsel of the ungodly,

  Nor stands in the path of sinners,

  Nor sits in the seat of the scornful;

  “Zach doesn’t seem to have a problem working for the English, and maybe it’s the crowd he works with, but I was with a bad lot. Lots of cussing, dirty jokes, talking real bad about their wives. I was standing with sinners and sitting next to scoffers of God. It says here a man is blessed to not be living like I used to.” He reached for her hand and she took it. “I’m blessed to be working with your daed. He’s better company.”

  Ruth held his hand and good memories flooded back. Memories of their courting days before he worked for the English. When they bought the house, Luke was afraid of the mortgage and took the job. Was it really that hard on him? “Jah, you are blessed. My daed’s as goot as men come.”

  “Ruth, I love you. Do you believe me?”

  “I want to, but I’ve been damaged…in my heart. It won’t seem to mend.”

  “But you seem more comfortable around me now. Do you think your heart’s on the mend and just needs time?”

  She didn’t withdraw her hand as he stroked the top of it with his thumb. She looked down at her yarn, and thought of how a jumbled mess of yarn can make a beautiful design, once knitted. “Seems like our hearts need to be knit together by God. I’m willing.”

  “What are you saying, Ruth? I can come back into our marriage bed?”

  Ruth froze. “Nee, not yet. God has more knitting to do before that happens.” She expected Luke to explode, but he continued to stroke her hand. “We need to wait on God, like Jeb said, and soon we’ll have wings to fly again.”

  She looked over at Luke and a smile spread across his face. “We’ll just keep waiting then.”

  ~*~

  The smirk on Jeb’s face made Granny wince. Was he taking delight in the Bishop having a word with her? Where was her normally supportive husband? Dinner at the bishop’s meant something was awfully wrong; breaking bread together sometimes meant smoothing over rough places, the meal being a place of communion, a place of unity.

  Was it so awful she read Jane Austen? And she couldn’t help it she had so many English friends. She had many more Amish to keep her on the straight and narrow, though. She pulled her black cape tighter around her as they pulled into the bishop’s driveway. When she saw several buggies lined up behind the house, she panicked. The Bible clearly said if you had something against someone, to go to them in private.

  “Jeb, what’s going on?”

  “Looks like the bishop has lots of customers today. Selling lots of furniture, I suppose.”

  “To Amish people? There are no cars here.”

  Jeb took her hand. “Maybe his son’s having a meeting in the woodshop.”

  “At dinner time?”

  “Deborah, don’t be nervous. If the bishop thinks you need discipline, isn’t it for your goot? He’s a kind man and won’t be harsh.”

  Granny shrugged her shoulders. “I have a clear conscience, Jeb. I’ll just tell him I’m not tempted to do wrong in any way by the English or Jane Austen.”

  Jeb patted her hand. “That’s my Deborah.” He helped her out of the buggy and across the snowy driveway. “Watch your step…old woman.”

  When they got to the door, Jeb stood behind her with both hands on her waist, as if ready to catch her if she fainted. “I’m fine, old man. Really. Tougher than you think.”

  The door opened and she saw Sarah, the bishop’s wife. She had the same smirk on her face as Jeb had. But she read Jane Austen, too. Wasn’t she going to have a “talking to” also? This didn’t make any sense. Sarah asked her to have a seat in the living room, which was also odd. They were having dinner and she wasn’t too old to help in the kitchen.

  When she walked into the next room, Jeb still had his hands on her waist. What’s going on?

  “SURPRISE!”

  Granny stepped back in shock. One by one someone came up and hugged her, wishing her a happy seventieth birthday. All the women from her knitting circle were there, except Maryann. She turned to Jeb, who was doubled over laughing. “I’ll get you back…old man.” She turned to hug Jeb, and felt hot tears forming, so she buried her head in his chest to compose herself.

  Jeb cradled her head. “Can you take another surprise or should we wait?”

  Another surprise? “Jah, I’m okay. Little shaky, but I’m fine.”

  Jeb motioned with his hand to bring something forward. Granny saw a young man walk from the back of the room. He came up to her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Happy Birthday, Oma.”

  Granny studied his face. She didn’t know who he was! Did seventy mean she’d lost her mind? Jeb whispered in her ear, “It’s Nathan. Can’t you tell?”

  “Ach, Nathan!” Granny grabbed him by the neck. “It’s been so long I didn’t recognize you.” She put her hand on his face. “You’ve grown up to be so handsome. Blue eyes like your daed.”

  “I wanted to come down from Montana for Christmas. Had to watch the farm, and daed bought me a train ticket to visit for a while.”

  “Last time I saw you, you were twelve.”

  “Fifteen,” Nathan said with a crooked grin. “Just turned twenty. Getting old.”

  Granny pulled him to her. “I’ve missed you so. All of you up there in Montana. Too far away.” Granny heard the chatter of everyone, but wanted this moment to last a bit longer. Her Nathan was home. She had many grandkinner, but Nathan was so tenderhearted and always talked and visited with her the most. When the family moved to Montana, he wrote regularly, but then as his teen years came along, not so often. She wanted to keep him in Smicksburg forever.

  “How long are you staying?”

  “For a month…or longer.”

  Granny couldn’t contain her emotions any longer and cried. “I’ve missed you.” She held him tighter. “I’ll make you lots of chocolate whoopie pies, your favorite.”

  She looked out at the crowd gathered in the living room. Lavina walked over to her. “Granny. Are you okay?”

  “Happy. Just so happy. This is my Nathan, home from Montana.”

  Lavina and Nathan’s eyes met and Granny couldn’t help but notice they both seemed struck dumb. Their eyes held, but no one said anything. Granny shook her head; she was reading too many Jane Austen novels. The image of Jane Bennet being taken with Mr. Bingley flashed in front of her.

  She felt a tap on her shoulder and a pull on her dress. She saw Roman with a broad grin and the girls. “We kept it a secret all week,” Jenny said.

  “And it was hard,” Millie said. “It’s hard not to talk about a party.”

  Tillie wrapped her arms around Granny. “I love
you. Happy Birthday, Oma.”

  Granny bent down and held her tight. She looked over across the room at Lizzie and Amos. Dear Lord, let Lizzie be this little one’s mamm someday. Her eyes met with Amos and he came over with Lizzie. “Happy Birthday. Were you surprised?”

  “Jah, for sure.”

  “Sarah and I made a lemon cake,” Lizzie said. “I can’t wait for you to try it. Something spring-like in winter.”

  “Danki, Lizzie. So thoughtful.”

  “I need to say good-bye now.’ Amos said. “I’m headed back to Lancaster.”

  “So soon? Did you find a farm?” Lizzie asked.

  Amos turned to Lizzie. “We looked at several, but I think I need to go back and pray about it all for a spell. Have a driver out front waiting to take me to the bus stop.” He nodded his head and turned to everyone. “Goot to meet you.”

  Granny looked at Lizzie, who didn’t follow Amos out to the car, but looked over at Roman and smiled broadly. Praise be… But Lizzie made her way over to the front window, waving at Amos as he left, her other hand on her heart. More casting off prayers, Granny moaned.

  ~*~

  That night, Granny looked over the list of birds she’d spotted this year. She’s never had thirty varieties of birds before. When Jeb spotted a golden eagle flying high above the trees behind the pond, she saw firsthand how they glided, just like she’d read. Not flapping their wings about like most birds. She wanted to be an eagle and soar effortlessly, not a flapping duck. But she couldn’t soar unless she kept up her casting off prayers several times a day.

  Her mind turned to Nathan, her dear grandson. Memories of them putting together puzzles when they all lived in the big house. Then Silas moved to Montana, leaving the house to Roman. Having Nathan home was such a treat, but the way he looked at Lavina bothered her, to her shame. And the way Lizzie waved rigorously out the window at Amos, upset her too. Surely Lizzie could see Roman was the one for her. Maryann got sicker than usual after radiation and she missed her at the party. She bowed her head in prayer.

  Lord, here I am again, and I’m sure glad you don’t get pestered by me. Your love never failed, new every morning, and night. Lord, I give Nathan to you. Bless his visit home. He’s twenty and doesn’t have a sweetheart back home in Montana. Not writing to a nice Amish girl either. I noticed how he looked at Lavina fondly and they talked forever at the party. Was it because they both didn’t know many people? And Lord, I give Lizzie’s heart to you. Turn it whichever way you want, even though I’d be so happy if you turned it away from Amos and toward Roman.