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

  Granny looked at the black and white rabbit. The baby rabbit did look bigger than yesterday. She pet its head. “Could spin some nice angora yarn from its fur.”

  Jenny pulled the rabbit back. “Would it hurt?”

  “Nee, does it hurt when you get a haircut?” Jeb asked.

  Jenny narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know. Never had my hair cut.”

  “Well, I can tell you it doesn’t hurt.” He pat Jenny on the head. “So, Jonas tells me you’ll have a surprise today. Can you guess what it is?”

  Jenny held her bunny to her cheek. “Nee, but I’m afraid.”

  “Of what, honey?” Granny asked. “The surprise is goot.”

  “Jonas doesn’t want to come live here. I heard Daed and Mamm talking. And when he comes over, he seems mean.”

  “Sad, not mad,” Granny said. “Sometimes when people are sad, they look mad. Understand?”

  “I’ll try to. Going to be eight in the fall, and need to grow up…”

  Jeb put both hands on her shoulders. “Even when you’re grown up, change is hard. Scary.” He looked over at Granny.

  “Jah, we don’t know what’s going to happen around the next corner. Can only trust God to hold our hand tight. Things work out in the end.”

  Lizzie ran barefoot down her porch steps and over to them. “Jenny, I need some help with breakfast dishes.” She turned to Granny. “The girls will be over around eleven. Will only be gone an hour.”

  Granny put a hand up. “You and Roman go out and have a nice long picnic.” She winked. “You deserve time alone.”

  ~*~

  Roman spread out the blanket under the oak tree in Old Smicksburg Park. “This spot will always be ours.”

  Lizzie put the basket down and sat next to Roman. “You saved me. When you read the note, you didn’t reject me.”

  Roman drew her close. “Just wish I’d found it ten years earlier. Mamm is right in calling me Mr. Darcy. I was so proud.”

  “I should have told you, but couldn’t, is all.” She leaned her head on Roman’s strong shoulder. How she wished she could turn back time. After the attempted assault, she’d felt so unclean, she couldn’t speak. Not even to Roman, her fiancé. So she’d put a note in the woodpecker hole in their tree, thinking he’d find it, like all the other letters. But he didn’t, and when she broke the engagement off, he soon met Abigail.

  “Lizzie, you know you can tell me anything now, jah?”

  She squeezed his arm. “Of course.”

  “Then what’s ailing you?”

  “Nothing. I’m fit as a fiddle.”

  He tilted her head up and she looked into his unflinching brown eyes. “Lizzie, in your heart. What ailing that sweet heart of yours?”

  She held his gaze. “You’ll think I’m selfish.”

  “Never. You can tell me if you don’t want your daed to build next to us.”

  Lizzie’s eyebrows shot up. “I love Daed. I want him near.”

  “Then what is it?” Roman took off his hat and ran his fingers through his chestnut brown hair. “Remember, no secrets.”

  “I know. I kept one for too long. But I’ve learned to speak up if I’m upset. To talk about things….”

  “Then why aren’t you?”

  Lizzie was touched that Roman had prepared a basket full of her favorite cheeses and homemade bread, fresh from Granny’s oven. This dear man could see her heart. They were becoming one, more each day. If she held back, hiding her feelings, their hearts couldn’t be melded together. “Roman…I’m so afraid.”

  She felt his hand on her cheek. “Of what?”

  “That I’m barren. When I see Ruth and Fannie pregnant, well, I worry.”

  He drew her near and kissed her gently. “We’ve only been married since May.”

  “Fannie got pregnant on her wedding night. Lots of girls do, but I’m an old woman…thirty-three now. And maybe that’s the reason.”

  Lizzie looked up at him and saw Roman purse his lips. He always did that when he tried to hide a smile. “You think I’m being silly, jah?”

  He nodded. “And impatient.” Roman reached for the basket and cut her a slice of tomato-basil cheese. “But danki for sharing that with me. We can pray about a boppli together.”

  She took the cheese and bread Roman handed her. How she loved this man. She could share anything with him now. If only she’d opened her mouth ten years ago. How God worked everything out for the good was a miracle in itself. She loved her step-daughters in a way that surprised her. It came so naturally. And when she won Jenny’s approval, Lizzie felt such fulfillment. Being a mamm was always her dream, and she hoped Roman was right. She was just being impatient…

  ~*~

  Colleen walked behind Janice as they made their way up a long, steep sidewalk. “Seriously, I’m learning plenty about the Amish from Granny and Ella.”

  Janice kept on climbing. “But you said you like to crochet, too. Emma crochets rugs, and you could help.”

  “But I’m helping Ella,” Colleen said, trying to understand why Janice was in such a hurry to steer her toward this Emma Miller. “And Hezekiah…”

  Janice spun around, almost losing her footing. “Hezekiah?” She put her hands on her hips. “Colleen, what’s going on?”

  “Nothing. Just making lots of friends.”

  “You are not Amish. Of all the girls at the house, why do I have to keep reminding you of that?”

  Colleen knew Janice meant well, but she was an adult. Janice hovered too much. “I’m fascinated with the Amish. Is that so bad?”

  Janice narrowed her eyes. “Fascinated with the Amish or Hezekiah?”

  Colleen stopped in her tracks. “Janice. I’m twenty-one. Almost twenty-two…”

  “And I have eyes,” Janice said. “Hezekiah is a very handsome young man. I’ve seen Englishers fall for an Amish person before. It rarely works out. Be careful.” Janice turned and made her way up the side steps to the white store, attached to the huge farmhouse.

  Colleen followed and tried to put any notions of Hezekiah out of her mind. Until Janice mentioned how handsome he was, she’d never really thought of him as more than a friend…but now that she thought of him, he listened so well…

  Janice walked in without knocking, and soon two women came from a door that led to the main house. There was also a window, most likely left there from when the store was attached. A large oak table like Granny’s was in the kitchen. And a black cook stove, icebox. If it wasn’t for the light blue walls, it would be Granny’s kitchen. Colleen nodded to both women as she turned to eye all the items for sale: baskets, Amish dolls, aprons, rag rugs…purses. She took one of the purses off its hook. It looked like a Vera Bradley but when she opened it there were no tags.

  One of the Amish women came over to her. “Do you like that?”

  Colleen always tried not to stare when she met another Amish person, but she couldn’t help it, especially with the women. She always wondered if they needed make-up or not. But this woman’s eyes were a warm brown with thick lashed. She didn’t need mascara. She could use foundation to smooth her complexion, and some hair dye, since the small portion of hair that showed was graying. When she realized she was staring, she quickly asked, “How much is the purse?”

  “All the items have a price tag pinned to them. I think the purses are eighteen.”

  Colleen found the white paper pinned to the purse. It read, “$18.00 / Iva Miller.”

  “I made that one myself. I’m Iva Miller.” The Amish woman beside her beamed. “Do you want it?”

  Colleen looked over at Janice. One other thing about Forget-Me-Not was the Dave Ramsey course, required by anyone who was a resident. Living debt free was something Jerry was adamant about, but sometimes she felt he went too far, keeping her checkbook. Again, she felt like a child, but then scolded herself for not being grateful. She looked at Iva. “I’m sorry. Can’t afford it right now.”

  “Well, maybe you can learn to make one. I hear you want to help
make crocheted rag rugs. I can easily show you how to make a purse while you’re here.”

  Janice walked over along with the other woman. “Colleen, this is Marie. She makes the crocheted rugs, along with her mother.”

  Colleen looked at Marie, who looked so similar to Iva. But if Marie was Emma’s daughter, how old was Emma?

  The confusion on her face must have registered. Marie grinned. “You came to meet my mamm, jah? Since it’s Emma’s Quilt Shop?” Without waiting for a response she continued. “Iva and I are sisters. Emma’s our mamm.”

  “Emma needs to sell those herbs she takes.” Janice said. “Must have powerful anti-aging powers because she looks your age.”

  Iva, the jovial one, put up her hand as if in protest. “So, Marie, we look as old as mamm. Must be raising so many kinner.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” Janice laughed..

  Iva chuckled, making her belly under her black apron jiggle. “I know. We come from a big family, and make big families.” She patted her stomach. “This is number thirteen. Will make a baker’s dozen.”

  Colleen openly gawked. “You’re having your thirteenth child? Any twins?”

  “No. I’ve given birth twelve times. This will be thirteen. Mamm gave birth fourteen times, but had fifteen kinner.”

  “I have only eight,” Marie meekly added.

  Janice turned to look at quilted wall-hangings, leaving Colleen time to chat to the two women. “Marie, eight is a lot of kids.”

  “Well, we’re hoping for more.”

  Colleen knew if she was a cat, she’d be dead, because she was so curious. “So, how many grandchildren does Emma Miller have?”

  The two women looked at each other, faces serious. Marie put up one hand and started to raise fingers, mentally counting. Iva threw her hands in the air. “I lose track. Over a hundred, last count. But we don’t know all the kinner because some of our siblings left the Amish…”

  The look of pain on both women’s faces was undeniable. Janice walked back over, a basket in her hand. “Didn’t one of your siblings marry an Outsider?”

  “Jah, she did. In a bad state, she is,” Iva said. “How we loved her, but she and another sister left us for the outside world.”

  Colleen frowned, uncomprehending. If you loved each other, it would be unconditional. She loved Aurora on good and bad days. “I don’t understand shunning,” she blurted out, immediately regretting it. “I mean, my mom talked about it, for some reason. Thought it was cruel.”

  “Did she have an Amish friend who was shunned?” Marie asked.

  Colleen never could understand her mom’s ranting behavior towards the Amish. “I don’t know. She always said they ruined her life. But my mom’s on drugs. Not the good kind, though. So maybe she was high.”

  Marie folded their hands and looked down. Iva put a hand on her sister’s shoulder.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shock you,” Colleen said.

  Marie slowly looked up. “Never mind me. Memories of my sisters who left still sting at times, even after all these years. Shunning is something that hurts us all.”

  ~*~

  Granny heard the sound of flying stones and the rumble of a diesel engine. She put down her knitting needles and sighed. Her little break was over. These little knitting vacations, as she named them, brought peace and took the tension out of her neck. Only twenty minutes a day of knitting was supposed to be good for your health, according to Suzy. So, sitting and knitting after the noon meal was something she started as a daily ritual.

  But now Joe was here to deliver lumber for Jonas’ new place. Change again. Would it be easy having Jonas as a neighbor? Would it be hard on Lizzie and Roman? Jonas had been cantankerous since Lizzie got married in May. Fannie found him hard to live with….Would they?

  Joe came from around his large Silverado truck and opened the door to let Jonas out. Jonas soon made his way over to Granny. “Hi Deborah. Where’s Roman?”

  “He and Lizzie haven’t come back from their picnic yet.”

  “But I said I’d be here with the lumber at one….”

  Joe shielded his eyes from the sun. “Can’t unload the lumber myself. Is Jeb around?”

  “Went to visit someone. Bishop’s duties.”

  Jenny ran from Granny’s house. “Hi Joe.”

  “Hi Sweet Pea. How’s my favorite Amish little girl?” Tillie and Millie came out on the porch and stood beside Jenny. Joe quickly added. “And here’s the rest of my favorite Amish girls.” He winked at Jenny. “Jonas has something to tell you.”

  “Is it our surprise?” Jenny scratched the side of her head, attempting a smile. “Lumber?”

  Jonas leaned on his arm braces and made his way closer to the porch. “Well, lumber can be made into many things, jah?”

  Jenny nodded.

  “Can you guess what some of this lumber is for?” Jonas asked, eyes aglow.

  Jenny shook her head.

  “Guess,” Jonas said.

  The girls looked at Granny, but she’d already gone back to knitting. “Oma, we need a hint,” Millie begged.

  Granny put down the pink yarn. “It’s something you’ve wanted for a long time. Jonas found out about it.”

  Tillie’s eyes grew round. She jumped up and down. “A tree house!”

  Jonas laughed. “You’re right. I got extra lumber and workers will make you a tree house. But we need pictures of what kind of tree house you want.”

  Tillie ran down the steps and hugged Jonas’ middle, almost tipping him over. “Danki!”

  Jenny and Millie took each other’s hands and jumped up and down. “A tree house! A real tree house,” they chirped in unison. “Danki Jonas. Danki.”

  “Now, where do you girls want it built? Which tree?”

  “Our tree,” Jenny said. “The one on the side of the house.

  Granny grimaced. If Jonas built onto the house, that tree would have to be chopped down. The girls all pointed to their beloved maple tree that stood on the right side of the house. Jonas’s expression fell.

  “What’s wrong?” Jenny asked. “Don’t you like our tree? It’s strong enough for our tire swing…”

  He looked over at Joe and then Granny. “Well, if that’s the tree you’ve picked, then we best be unloading the lumber by it. As soon as Roman shows up.”

  The girls all joined hands and jumped up and down, chanting, “We’re gonna have a tree house” over and over. Granny’s heart swelled with love and hope. Jonas had his heart set on building onto the right side of Roman’s house, nearer to the fishing hole. But he just gave his word, and she knew he’d keep it. How Roman would feel about it was another matter, but for now, she hadn’t seen the girls so animated in a long while, and she put her knitting down and watched the girls.

  ~*~

  Joe dug his hands in his blue jean pockets. Jonas showed him the blue print for the new addition. Well, it was handwritten, not done by an architect, but plans were in motion. This man who had lots of upper body strength due to using arm crutches would certainly get more of a workout going to Jeb’s fishing hole. How could he make such a rash decision?

  He went over to Jonas and asked again where he needed to park the truck to unload the wood. Jonas pointed to the maple tree, and Joe wondered if he should wait for Roman to show up, but there was something going on here he didn’t understand. Jonas’ word was like a done deal. He asked Jonas to speak with him privately, and they took a short walk across the yard.

  “Jonas, I don’t get it,” Joe admitted. “Kids are spoiled in America, but I thought the Amish were different.”

  Jonas cocked his head to one side. “Say that again?”

  “Everything’s revolving around the girls and their special tree. Isn’t that being spoiled?”

  “Well, I look at it like this. These girls have had lots of change, and it’s hard for them. Just want to help carry that burden a little.”

  Joe gawked. “But you’re going through more change, and it’s a bur
den for you to walk to the fishing hole. Sorry, don’t mean to bring that up, but you are a, ah…”

  “Cripple. Say it. It’s the truth.” He shifted his weight. “I keep reading My Utmost for His Highest, the book I told you about. Chambers says, ‘If you do wrestle with God, you will be crippled all the rest of your life’.” Jonas attempted to put a hand on his heart. “I’m not a cripple in here. Are you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, all kinds of things can just cripple or keep us from walking on the inside. I struggle with bitterness and self-pity, but I struggle until I win. You say you don’t believe in God, so you struggle with that disbelief of yours. You’re more of a cripple than me.”

  Joe let out a nervous laugh. “That’s ridiculous. Lots of atheists are happy.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Jonas said. “Bad things happen all the time. I lost my wife and have MS. My house burnt down after my wife died. Don’t see how anyone can get through trials without God.”

  Joe shrugged his shoulders. “We’re all entitled to our own beliefs.”

  “And some are wrong…Only one way to God, and that’s through Jesus.”

  Joe wished he wasn’t talking to an Amish man who was also a cripple, or he’d deck Jonas at this point. The gall to say Christianity was the only way to God. “So, you think only Christians are going to so-called heaven?”

  “What are you going to do about Jesus?” Jonas asked.

  “What?”

  “Oh, people make lots of excuses for not believing in him. Some say he was a good teacher, but would a good teacher lie? And some of the things Jesus said made people think he was a lunatic. So what do you think about Jesus? Was he a liar, lunatic…or the Lord?”

  Joe snickered. “Did your buddy Chambers say all that? Sounds pretty profound.”

  Jonas’ eyes twinkled. “C.S. Lewis. Have his book, Mere Christianity over at my place. Want to read it?”

  Joe nodded. “If it makes you happy. But don’t tell anyone. I am an atheist.”

  “So was Lewis…”

  ~*~

  Granny slowly scooped Peach Pocket Pie into bowls, Lizzie beside her topping each with cream and sugar. Feeling like she needed to crawl in bed, she arched her back and took in a deep breath. “So, Lizzie, Roman eased your mind some?”