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

  She looked back at the house before it went out of view. The roses were climbing up the trellis again, as usual, a reminder of new life: eternal life. Jeb had gotten her a rose bush to cheer her up after the tragic death, but back then, she didn’t want to be cheered up. She was mourning the loss of a daughter. She would have been her youngest, not Roman, and a friend and companion in the kitchen. But now, thirty years later, Granny was glad Jeb planted that one climbing rose bush. He divided them every year and now they engulfed her wrap-around porch.

  Granny led the horse left onto Sunrise Road and listened to the steady clip-clop of the horse’s hooves. Almost as comforting as the clicking of Suzy’s knitting needles. Truth be told, she wanted to learn to knit with needles, just to hear that sound. She’d never tell anyone, they’d think she was batty. But when Suzy visited, the steady rhythm of the needles calmed her, and Suzy said it raised chemical levels in the brain to calm a body down. Granny needed that the more she aged, and just couldn’t wait to learn.

  She soon saw a red sports car and knew Marge and Joe were at their new place. How easy the English thought they could live off the grid. She chuckled, remembering when she met Marge in the hospital waiting room. The animated woman, who ran around the farm for sale, saying it reminded her of Little House on the Prairie, had confused her to no end, until Marge lent her the book to read. Marge and Joe wanted to live like Ma and Pa Ingalls; she hoped they knew the work involved and didn’t get discouraged.

  Granny waved when she met Marge as she came to the mailbox. “Guder mariye, Marge. Did you get the turkeys ordered?”

  Marge clasped her pudgy hands and jumped up and down. “I am so excited. We’re getting seventy to start. And I did consent to raising rabbits, thanks to Luke.”

  “Luke? You mean Ruth’s Luke?”

  “Yes. He is one sweet man. Offered to help us move in and learn how to live off the grid. Gave us a catalog to order oil lamps with hangers to put on the walls. Do you think they’re safe?”

  “I’ve used them all my life.”

  “We might order a cook stove from the catalog, but really need your opinion. Ruth’s getting a bigger stove and I just might order the same kind. What do you think?”

  Granny thought of the knitting circle. Learning how to live off the grid after years of conveniences would take more than a few conversations. “Marge, would you like to come to my knitting circle? You’d learn so much from all the Amish women who come. It’ll be on Thursday nights.”

  Marge put her hand to her full face. “I can’t believe you’re asking me. I’m not Amish.”

  “Well, neither are some of the others I’m inviting.”

  “Oh, I love to knit. Learned to do it from my grandma years ago.” Her eyes misted. “Deborah, I’m so glad to be your neighbor.”

  “Me too, but call me Granny. All my girls do.”

  “Your girls?”

  “My knitting circle girls. I’d like you to be one…”

  “Danki, I mean, thank you. Being around all the Amish has made me pick up some of their slang.”

  “What slang?” Granny asked.

  ~*~

  Granny pulled into Forget-Me-Not Manor and admired the sign. It read:

  Forget-Me-Not Manor ~ All girls are princesses, ever in the heart of their King.

  Granny had always admired how the Rowland’s had sold their home below its value to help homeless mamms. Janice had told her all the details and she had to admit, some of the English really inspired her.

  There was no hitching post and she didn’t know where to tie the horses’ reigns. The split-rail fence would have to do, but her buggy might still be too close to the road. A young woman came out onto the front porch and asked if she needed help. She ran back inside and soon Janice appeared. Janice wore a white blouse and her smooth black skin looked lovely. When she flashed her broad smile, revealing straight white teeth, Granny thought she needed to be in one of those glamour magazines, but quickly dismissed the idea, knowing those magazines had brainwashed Fannie into thinking she was ugly.

  “Mornin’ Deborah. Suzy said you’d be stopping by.”

  “Guder mariye, Janice. I came to talk to you about knitting.”

  “Suzy told me all about it. I’m all for it. These girls need mentored by some godly women. And knitting is good for the nerves.” She motioned for Granny to come inside.

  “Where can I hitch my horse?”

  Janice put a slender finger up to her cheek. “We don’t really have anything, like they do in town. Could you hitch it across the street at Rueben Byler’s?

  “Ach, jah, I could. Will be back in a minute.”

  ~*~

  Janice turned to the women around the breakfast table. “Not one of you wants to learn to knit? And knit for charity? I’m sorry, but yinz know you have to do some type of charity work in order to live here. Remember, charity has been given to you, and you need to give back.”

  All eyes looked down, except for a girl with honey-amber colored hair that matched her honey-hazel eyes. “I can knit. Not good at it, but I can do a knit and purl.” She looked down at her oatmeal and then back up at Janice. “And you say it’s Amish women?”

  “Yes, Colleen, and they’re ever so kind. All the pies you eat here are made by Amish women.”

  “Do they give baking lessons, too?” Colleen asked.

  Granny came around the corner, out of breath. “I can teach yinz how to make a decent pie. Learned when I was five.”

  All eyes at the table turned to Granny. They eyed her mauve dress and black apron. “See, I’m ready to bake all the time, always having an apron on.” Granny smiled at the girls, but they all turned away, except the pretty girl with a heart-shaped face and dark, golden hair. Granny saw something in this girl. A longing to learn Amish ways? Or was this her imagination?

  “Colleen’s the only one who wants to knit.” Janice pointed to the girl with shoulder-length hair.

  Granny just couldn’t pinpoint what it was about this girl that made her like her immediately, but she did. “So, Colleen, you’d like to come next Thursday?”

  “Can I bring my daughter?”

  “Well, it depends on the age. My kinner are there but the youngest are almost six.”

  “My daughter, Aurora, is four, almost five, though.”

  Granny narrowed her eyes to take in Colleen more. She didn’t look a day over twenty. “Can we talk private-like?” Granny asked Colleen. She nodded and eagerly made her way over to Granny. “How about we talk on the front porch?” Granny asked. “Just beautiful outside.”

  “I agree.”

  Colleen followed Granny out on the porch and they sat on the white wicker porch swing. Janice followed and sat in the wicker chair opposite them.

  Granny patted Colleen’s knee. “You have a daughter almost five? How old are you?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  “And how long have you been here in Smicksburg?”

  “Well, not long.” Colleen looked over at Janice fondly. “Sure glad they had room, though. Living on the streets with a child was rough, to say the least.”

  “But don’t you have family?” Granny blurted. For the life of her, she didn’t understand why there were homeless Americans.

  “My parents are on drugs.” Colleen bowed her head.

  Granny took her hand. “But, if they’re sick, why not go home and help them?”

  Colleen looked up at Granny, and then over towards Janice, baffled, then back at Granny. “They’re on cocaine.”

  Granny slapped her forehead. “Ach, I’m sorry. Those kind of drugs. Not the goot kind.” She thought of several teens who had gotten involved with illegal drugs during their rumspringa, but the Amish community helped them turn from such a temptation. Who was helping Colleen’s parents?

  Granny was speechless; she’d never heard of parents being on drugs. She pointed to the sign in front of the house. “I like that saying… All girls are princesses, ever in the heart of their King.

&
nbsp; Colleen grinned at Janice. “I even believe it now. Actually, I even changed my daughter’s name to Aurora because of that sign.”

  “Why?” Granny asked.

  “Aurora’s the name of Sleeping Beauty. That’s my favorite fairytale.”

  “Never heard of it. My English friends have given me many books, though, and I’d like to hear this princess’s story.” Granny smiled at Colleen broadly; something about this girl was just loveable. “I brought a few pies over for the girls. Colleen, would you like to walk across the street and help me bring them in?”

  ~*~

  Granny pulled out of Forget-Me-Not Manor, shoulders sunk. Was Jeb right? Did she need the summer off from having a knitting circle? Colleen’s story only underlined the fact that there were people in dire straits, right here in America. Parents on illegal drugs? Who raised Colleen to be such a fine young lady? Now a homeless girl with a child….

  She’d read every word from Christian Aid Ministries newsletter, and they did care for the needy in her own country, but she never deep down could grasp it. The tornado ripping through Missouri she understood; of course people were displaced after a natural disaster. The earthquake in Haiti was an ongoing effort of this dear ministry she loved, but why were there people who had no family? She’d only seen it a few times in cases of a shunning, but the People were still available to the one who strayed if in need.

  Granny took a deep breath as she headed toward Suzy’s knitting shop. She needed some colorful yarn to match the season…maybe some pinks, the color of the flowering crabapple trees on her land. Such vivid colors weren’t allowed to be worn by the People, but it was a small price to pay to live in unity. But she could make colorful things for Outsiders, and that’s what she planned to do.

  Pink ribbons adorned the hospital when Maryann went in for radiation therapy; the nurse had said it was the color of breast cancer awareness. Yes, she’d buy shades of pink for hats and mittens, even socks. And she’d make the first set of mittens for Aurora, a little princess who Colleen treasured.

  Colleen refused to give up her child for adoption. Was it wise? She’d lived on the streets in dangerous places with a little one. Once again, Lavina’s bravery in giving up her twins to a loving home struck a chord in her heart.

  How Nathan adored Lavina, even though he knew everything about her past. Somehow, when she looked at her twenty year old grandson, she felt proud to be his oma. But if they got married, would he feel differently? When they shared the marriage bed?

  Granny looked up at the puffy clouds that dotted the blue sky; Cast your cares on the Lord, because He cares for you, she admonished herself. With every casting off prayer, she was reconditioning her mind, to think God’s thoughts. He cared and was in control. He didn’t need her help in being a matchmaker.

  She needed to cross over Route 954 and she white knuckled the leather reins. When would she ever get over this fear of crossing this road? The busy road that took Abigail’s life, leaving the girls without a mamm. She was so thankful Roman found love again, being so lonely for three years, but sometimes Granny looked at Jenny only to see Abigail, a spitting image of her mamm, and still missed her. No winter lasts forever. No spring skips it’s turn, she remembered her mamm always saying. She needed to see the spring all around her, and not dwell on past winters.

  Granny looked both ways and nudged the buggy quickly across the road. All the little shops that continued to spring up were a blessing since cars slowed down, seeing so many pedestrians. A car came close behind her and she slowed the horse to a walk and pulled over to the side of the road. But this car didn’t. How odd. When she pulled up Clarion Street, the car followed, and when she turned into Suzy’s driveway to hitch her horse, it pulled up to a parking spot. Must be a knitter getting yarn or taking classes.

  “Ma’am, can I take your picture?” a man, not much older than a teenager, asked.

  Granny put her head down. “We don’t want our pictures taken.”

  “Why not?”

  “It makes a graven image of our face, and it breaks the second commandment.”

  “Can I take one from behind?”

  “I can’t stop you,” Granny tried to say as politely as possible. She quickly got out of the buggy and shielded her face from the man with one hand. How violated she’d always felt when the English did this. She thought of Marge and other English friends. They would never do something like this.

  Granny opened the door to SuzyB Knits and heard the familiar little bell ring and the yapping of Suzy’s beloved dogs. But when she saw Suzy, she knew she’d been crying. “What’s wrong?”

  “Molly….” Suzy sat at her desk in the corner, hands over her face. “She’s not good.”

  Granny went over and put her hand on Suzy’s shoulder. Her little terrier had been a constant comfort to Suzy when her mamm died a long, painful death. Now the little black and white dog lay in a cushioned basket. Granny leaned forward to see if Molly was breathing, and the blind dog looked her way. “You precious little thing.”

  “Granny, I can’t do the knitting circle at your place. Not with Molly like this…”

  Was this the sign from God she needed to not have the circle? Did she need such handwriting on the wall to hear the gentle nudging of God?

  Granny nodded. When Jack passes on, it will be a day of mourning…a month of mourning. “I understand, dear friend. I’ll just cancel for the summer.”

  “You can’t. What about knitting for charity?”

  “We can do it in the winter…”

  Suzy put her hand up in protest. “I’ll do it for the homeless. Seeing those girls at Forget-Me-Not has put a face on them.” She swiped away a runaway tear. “I’ll do it, but if I start to cry…everyone will understand, right? I mean, I’ve hardly ever seen an Amish person cry.”

  Granny’s mouth gaped. “Really? I see it all the time….all the time…”

  ~*~

  When Granny left the shop, a bag full of pink yarn in various hues in tow, the Englisher was waiting on the porch, camera angled right at her as he snapped a picture.

  “I’m sorry. I need the money…” he said.

  Granny’s eyes narrowed. “Money for what?”

  The man looked down, his long hair hanging onto his camera. “Amish pictures are hard to get. I try to sell them on the internet. Lost my job and…”

  Granny sat on one of the chairs of Suzy’s vast front porch. “Are you homeless?”

  His jet black eyes mellowed as they met hers. “No, not yet.”

  “What does that mean? Have you lost your job and living with a friend?”

  “Yes, a good friend. But I feel like I’m interfering. He has a wife…”

  “How old are you?”

  “Twenty-seven. Pretty pathetic, huh?”

  Granny didn’t know what he really meant. Amish took in friends and family of all ages. “I don’t see anything wrong with it. Living with a friend. Count your blessings that you have a goot friend.”

  He sat in the chair next to her. “Thank you, Lady. My name’s Clark. What’s yours?”

  “Deborah Weaver.”

  Clark clasped his hands and glared at his fiddling thumbs. “You know of any work? I don’t like sneaking around taking Amish pictures.”

  “Well, I’m glad to hear it. What work can you do?”

  “Construction, plumbing, welding. Good with my hands.”

  “Well, Amish are goot at building things, too. If you give me your phone number, I’ll check and see if anyone needs an extra hand, and call you.”

  “But the Amish don’t have phones, right?”

  “We have phone shanties, and trusted friends who let us use theirs.”

  Clark got up to enter Suzy’s store. “Where are you going?” Granny asked.

  “The lady in here, well, she knows me. My situation. I live at her pastor’s old house…lost the phone number.”

  Granny’s eyes grew as round as buttons. “Jerry and Janice?”

  “Mo
ved in a few weeks ago. Came up from Pittsburgh, but I’m not a girl, so I can’t live at Forget-Me-Not.”

  Granny hugged her bag of yarn and looked up at the birds nesting in the porch rafters. “I was just there, and saw Janice. She didn’t say anything.”

  “Well, it’s just temporary. I hope.”

  Granny gazed again at the sparrows in their nest. She’d prayed for clear direction about her knitting circle, wondering if homelessness in America was really true. The Lord put proof right in her path. She looked over at Clark. “I have Janice’s number. If I find work, I’ll call her.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  ~*~

  Granny pulled into Miller’s Variety to get her list of dry goods on the way home. The whole place was buzzing with construction workers, some digging on the side of the store, others at the sight of the new workshop. She opened the store door and saw a very weary Jonas leaning behind the counter. Fannie was measuring out spices beside him. Was it her imagination, or was there tension in the air?

  “Hello, Jonas. Fannie. Needed to pick up a few things.” She took one of the bentwood baskets Jonas provided for his customers, and walked towards the baked goods aisle.

  Granny jumped when she heard a bang. Soon Fannie came over to her, green eyes ablaze. “He treats me like I’m five. I do know how to use a scale to measure,” Fannie blurted in a loud whisper. “Don’t know if I can handle this much longer.”

  Granny drew nearer to Fannie. “You have to. Until he no longer feels he needs the store.”

  “But Melvin and I own this place now, and we’re never alone.”

  Granny wagged a finger at Fannie. “Remember, you don’t own this place until you’ve paid for it, every penny. Until then, Jonas still owns it, just like a bank.”

  “I’m thinking this whole land contract deal was a mistake. We shouldn’t have let Jonas stay…”

  Granny reached up to cup Fannie’s red face. “Patience. With patience, possess your soul.” Fannie stomped one foot and crossed her arms. “Fannie, you’re acting just like my little Jenny. Now stop this nonsense.”