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

  And Lord, help Colleen during this testing time. Lord, I’m so shocked she really wants to be Amish. Marge couldn’t handle living off the grid. Will Colleen? Oh Lord, give Jeb the wisdom he needs to guide that dear girl.

  I give all my knitting circle friends to you…my ‘Little Women’ as Jeb calls them.

  In Jesus name,

  Amen

  ~*~

  Thank you following Granny and her knitting circle in Amish Friends Knitting Circle., an eight part series.

  Emma’s Sticky Buns

  1 c. Biscuit Mix (recipe below)

  1/3 c. milk

  2 Tbsp. melted butter

  ½ c. white sugar

  1 tsp. cinnamon

  2 Tbs. butter

  2 Tbs. firmly pressed brown sugar

  ¼ c. pecans, walnuts, or nut of your choice.

  Combine biscuit mix and milk. Knead several times and roll into an 8 inch square.

  Brush the pastry with melted butter.

  Mix the sugar and cinnamon together and sprinkle over the dough.

  Roll the dough up and cut into 1 inch slices.

  Place slices into greased 8 inch square pan.

  Brush with melted butter combined with brown sugar

  Sprinkle nuts evenly on top.

  Bake at 375degrees for 20-25 minutes.

  Biscuit Mix

  (Most Amish families keep this on hand, kept in an airtight container)

  8 c. flour

  8 tsp. white sugar

  2 tsp. salt

  1 ¾ shortening

  1/3 c. baking powder

  1 c. powdered milk

  2 tbs. cream of tartar

  Sift all dry ingredients thoroughly. Cut in shortening, and store. To make biscuits, use 1 c. mix to 1/3 c. water. Bake at 450 degrees for 10 minutes.

  E PISODE 7

  The Pumpkin Patch

  Granny gripped her middle as Jeb put a cold washcloth on her forehead. “I need to take your temperature again, Love.”

  Nathan fidgeted with the edge of the bed sheet as he sat in a chair next to his oma. His gaze fell on the embroidered pillowcase edged with red roses, her favorite. The image of his opa as a much younger man, separating a rose bush and planting them along the edge of his dawdyhaus, flashed before him. His pa had told him that a rosebush was planted after his oma gave birth to a still-born daughter, and Jeb planted a rosebush in her memory. When the dawdyhaus was built, he’d separated the bush into two and continued each year to do so until roses climbed the wraparound porch. Now they were so heavy on the trellis on the far side of the porch, they needed pruning.

  Another groan from Granny stabbed at his heart. How he loved this woman, and how she loved him. Their talk a few weeks back made him realize he’d stay in Smicksburg, and try to win back Lavina’s heart. But was it too late?

  He heard a sob, and looked up to see his opa in tears, gripping Granny’s hand. “Her fever broke.” He bent down to kiss her cheek. “Love, we need to keep giving you liquids.”

  She shook her head vehemently and pointed to her stomach. Jeb stroked her hand, insisting, she might end up in the hospital for dehydration, but she only pushed back the glass of water when Nathan put it to her lips.

  “Nee. Nothing…” She gripped her middle again and cried out in pain. Then she turned away from them, saying she needed to sleep.

  Nathan looked at his opa, concern and love etched on his face. Jeb hadn’t left her side in the past three days, even rocking her like a child, stroking her long gray hair. How Nathan longed to have a marriage like this. His eyes met Jeb’s, then darted toward the door. Nathan supposed he wanted time alone with Granny, but Jeb followed him out into the main part of the house.

  Jeb headed toward the kitchen, straight for the coffee pot, and poured two mugs full. “Nathan, what’s ailing you?”

  Nathan leaned up against the kitchen counter, the scent of roses wafting in. “Me? Nothing.”

  He handed him black coffee. “Tell me.”

  “What?”

  Jeb rubbed his forehead. “What’s wrong? You’re so forlorn. Why aren’t you out working in the rocker shop?”

  “Concerned for Oma. She’s really sick…”

  “Look at me. It’s something else, and I know it. Tell me.”

  Nathan took a sip of coffee. “I’ve been watching you and oma. I want a marriage like yours.”

  “Then go back to Montana, marry that Sarah, and work on it. Marriage is being a servant, so serve Sarah.”

  Nathan eyes widened. “You know I broke it off with Sarah.”

  “Jah, but you’re not going to play with Lavina’s heart like a harmonica. She’s been through a lot.”

  “But I love her, Opa. Why don’t you believe me?”

  Jeb swatted at the air. “You broke her heart. That’s not something you do to someone you love.”

  Nathan rolled his eyes. “I’m not a kinner, but I sure felt that way back home. Mamm thought Sarah would stay true to the faith if she married me. I was supposed to keep her on the straight and narrow.”

  “But you wrote to Lavina telling her you were in love with Sarah.”

  “Honor your parents is one of the Ten Commandments. I figured that love would come in time.”

  Jeb plunked down at his place at the kitchen table. “Do you know how your words hurt Lavina?” he boomed. “I am her bishop, and counseled her to guard her heart against you. And I’m sticking to it until your words are straight. You’re Amish. Our word should be goot to sell a farm, how much more a marriage? You broke your word to Sarah.”

  Nathan didn’t know why, but sorrow shadowed his heart, and to his shame, tears rolled onto his cheek. He angrily brushed them away. “Oma doesn’t agree with you. I love Lavina, and Oma can see that. She always sees things right!” Immediately regretting this outburst, he felt the need to run. And so he did, out the door and around the house towards the back fields.

  ~*~

  Lavina stopped the swing when she heard voices in the kitchen. The squeaking of the chain drowned out Nathan’s voice. How she longed to just hear him talk. How she missed him, but she trusted Jeb’s judgment, although Granny gave the opposite advice. Forgive and move forward, she’d said.

  Her mind turned to Granny, as did fear. Would she be alright? Was it something serious? Being seventy with a fever of one-hundred-four, she agreed with Marge that she should be taken to the emergency room last night. But Jeb stayed up all night, the ever-caring husband.

  Lavina looked down at the pink trim she was embroidering at the top of the black socks she’d made. One her wedding night, she’d wear these socks, the only time she’d be able to dress fancy. Only her husband would see them as he took them off her feet…

  Was it her imagination, or was the conversation in the kitchen becoming an argument? Then go back to Montana, marry that Sarah. Lavina froze, needle suspended in mid-air. She was working on forgiving Nathan, but now he’d be leaving? Nathan’s voice was too low to make out, but then Jeb started talking about a harmonica? She shook her head. What?

  Lavina had always been taught not to eavesdrop, so she set to work on the socks to be put in her hope chest. Maryann’s idea of filling a hope chest was a goot idea. It helped her look down the road to the day when she’d wed.

  Do you know how your words hurt Lavina? She couldn’t help but overhear Jeb’s loud voice. If only she could hear Nathan’s. The memory of their first kiss, in the buggy along the dirt road, intruded her thoughts. She was afraid Nathan would be like her old boyfriend, and how fearful she was. But Nathan was so tender. His kiss full of love, not lust.

  Oma doesn’t agree with you. I love Lavina… Lavina dropped the socks. Had she heard Nathan right? He loved her? She heard the screen door slam, and heavy pounding on the porch steps. Getting up and running to the front of the wraparound porch, she saw Nathan, hands raking his light brown, shaggy hair as he disappeared around the side of the house.

  I love Lavina played over and over in her mind. She wan
ted to run after him, but then thought of Jeb’s advice. Lavina looked down at the socks clenched in her hands, and soon tears fell on them. She jumped when Jeb came out on the porch and stared at her, mouth gaping.

  ~*~

  Ella poured lemonade into paper cups, placed them on a tray and headed toward the back porch where parched workers patiently waited. But she stopped and stared at the picture window. Zach had put it in for her, since winters were gloomy and she yearned for sunshine. This was the home that they built. The mint green walls throughout the house…they picked the color together at Lowes. Images of family and friends filled the room, carrying paintbrushes and rollers. It was a cool autumn day, apple cider was plentiful, along with apple crisps, apple dumplings…any dessert which included apples.

  She clenched the tray tight. Why had she agreed to move away? How would she ever feel at home in New York?

  The side door opened, and Colleen appeared, eyes wide. “Ella. Are you okay?”

  Ella shook her head, biting her lower lip to will back tears. “I’ll miss it here.”

  “Change. I don’t like it either.”

  Ella slowly looked into Colleen’s honey-hazel eyes. She knew this girl looked to her as a role model in being Amish. How Colleen complimented her until she blushed. “Want to talk?”

  Colleen nodded. “Let me take the lemonade outside first, though.”

  She took the tray and headed out the side door. The screen door. Their late Collie, Tess, had lain in front of that door, and Zach always joked that she knew what they were talking about. Tears stung at Ella’s eyes, but soon Colleen would be in, and needed a listening ear. What a decision she had to make. Why Janice needed an answer soon was understandable, to a degree. But the English moved too fast for Ella’s liking.

  Colleen appeared at the door, and Ella noticed she was wearing a jean skirt. She’d always worn those short pants that hung right below her knees. Was she trying to see if she could bear to wear a dress every day? Ella patted the oak table. “Come sit down.”

  Colleen lowered her gaze as she took a seat on the bench across from Ella. “I think he’s worth it…”

  “But being ‘in love’ isn’t the best reason to be Amish.”

  Colleen cocked her head. “I was talking about Zach. If I had a husband like him, I’d follow him anywhere.” Ella raised both eyebrows, and Colleen laughed. “I don’t mean it like that. I’m not attracted to your husband. Just saying that you have a nice family…”

  Ella composed herself. “I should be more thankful. I know how you’re struggling.”

  “I’ll miss you something awful. You promise to write?”

  Ella nodded. “Of course. And who knows, maybe it won’t work out in New York and we’ll move back…”

  Colleen traced the wide oak grain on the table with a finger. “At least you can change your mind. If I live with my grandma, move out of Forget-Me-Not, I lose my spot. And if I’m not cut out to be Amish, I’ll be homeless again…and I have Aurora to think about…”

  Ella reached for Colleen’s hand. “Emma would never let you be without a roof over your head. If you decide not to be Amish, you’ll still be her kinner. And you’ll still have the knitting circle friends…”

  “Emma, I mean, Oma, or whatever I should call her, assured me of that. So did Granny.”

  Ella squeezed her hand tight. “Live each short hour with God and the long years will take care of themselves.”

  “An Amish proverb?” Colleen asked.

  “Jah, and one I find hard to do. Give each moment to God, trusting Him for my future.” A tear slid down her cheek. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m not trusting…”

  “You’re human, Ella. That’s one thing I just love about Hezekiah. Not that I’m totally in love yet, I don’t think.” She smirked. “When I talk about the past, especially about cutting myself, he just says, ‘We’re all human, made from the dust.’ Somehow, that makes me stand taller.”

  Hezekiah had confided in her that he wanted to make Colleen his bride, trusting she’ll turn Amish. Ach, her problems were nothing compared to this young couple. Ella tilted her head, realizing for the first time that Colleen and Hezekiah would be living in her house if they wed. It was time for her to move on, making room for someone else in this home she loved so much; it was the love in the house she cherished, and it was portable. The thought warmed her heart, and she told Colleen it was time they get back to the road side stand, and sell more pumpkins.

  ~*~

  Granny stretched her toes as she lay in bed, trying to rest as Jeb demanded, but the laughter, blowing like an October wind, wafted through the open window. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat, knowing that self-pity never had good results, only a spiral down into gloom, so she quickly started to count her blessings.

  She thanked God Lizzie was now the girls’ mamm and had made a special birthday celebration prepared for them. She could also have knitting circle tomorrow night, since her flu-bug wouldn’t be contagious, being on antibiotics for twenty-four hours by then.

  The sound of gravel flying broke into her thoughts. When would Joe and Marge ever learn to drive slower? Goodness. They were always in a rush. Maybe they did need to live in a more fast-paced world. But who would take over the payments on their farm? The Amish wouldn’t take anyone to court, so she hoped Marge and Joe would keep up their agreement. Granny quickly dismissed such a notion, not borrowing trouble. That Jenny insisted on inviting Joe and Marge to her party made her grin. A little child shall lead them. Joe had always called Jenny a “Little Female Amish Preacher”; somehow she got through to him in her child-like faith.

  Little footsteps patted across her living room floor that sounded like Tillie’s. The door slowly opened, and in popped her little head. “I’m six now, Oma.”

  A front tooth was missing, and Granny wished she could take a picture, like the English, to treasure this memory always. “Happy Birthday, Honey. But Oma is sick. You best stay away.”

  Tillie tried not to frown and put on a forced smile. “Can we do something tomorrow, when you’re not conta…con…I don’t remember the word.”

  “Contagious. When you can’t catch what I have. Jah, I’d like that.” Tillie, her timid one with a sensitive heart, hovered over her like Jeb. It was love, and Granny relished in it. “You go on out and have a goot time, Tillie.”

  She broke out into a heartfelt smile, said good-bye and shut the door. Granny looked up at the white ceiling, her joints aching so, but she counted another blessing: Tillie. A grandchild who lived right next door, not thousands of miles away, like some of her others.

  Granny looked over at the socks she was making, but even the joints in her hands hurt too much to knit. So she just took the black alpaca yarn and curled her finger in and out of the soft ball. Lavina was also making black socks, and trimming them with flowers at the top. Was something going on, a secret romance, she wasn’t telling anyone about? Such socks were for a wedding night. Lavina and Jeb spoke in hushed tones over the noon meal, but she thought she heard Lavina crying. Was it cleansing tears, tears of joy…or sorrow? Had Jeb counseled her, once again, to stay away from Nathan?

  How she loved Lavina and Colleen, and missed their usual Wednesday morning pie making for Forget-Me-Not Manor. Colleen, realizing she had Amish kin, and now knew her oma, was a blessing but she was moving too fast. Wanting to be baptized into the church in a few months? Nee. Too soon. But what hopes and dreams filled Hezekiah’s heart toward her? If he loved her, would he try to use his impeccable Amish character to persuade Jeb to let her be in baptismal classes?

  Knowing she needed to cast her concerns on God, Granny closed her eyes, and prayed:

  Lord,

  I love these girls, but You love them more. You have a plan that’s for their good, so I’m going to stop trying to figure everything out, and trust that You will direct their paths.

  ~*~

  Lizzie told the girls to open their eyes, and their squeals flooded her soul with joy. T
he toy wheelbarrow she got at Punxsy-Mart was filled with chocolate pudding, and candy worms were crawling throughout. It was something Marge saw in a magazine, and showed it to her. But she wasn’t going to let the girls dive into the chocolate and get the ‘dirt’ on them, like the article suggested. The English indulged their kinner a little too much, she’d observed.

  Marge passed out bowls to Roman, Jonas, Jeb, Lavina, Nathan, Clark, Joe, and the girls, who sat around the long oak table. Lizzie handed her metal soup ladle to Jenny and told her to take all the ‘dirt’ from the wheelbarrow that she wanted, including worms. A round of laughter filled the room.

  Marge pouted as she took Lizzie by the elbow. “Would have been more fun to do this outside, let the girls dive in,” she whispered in her ear.

  Lizzie clenched the handle of the pitcher full of cold milk. “You wash clothes on a scrub board, jah?”

  “No, I go to the Laundromat…” She lowered her eyes. “But it’s their birthday…”

  “And your craft idea with the pumpkins is wunderbar. I couldn’t have planned this party without your help.”

  “I’ll miss your family when we move…” Tears pooled in Marge’s eyes. “But it’s for the best…”

  “Honey, come here.” Joe patted the bench next to him. “Have some dirt.”

  Marge forced a smile and sat next to her husband. “Do you girls like eating dirt?” Marge asked.

  Three heads nodded but no one spoke, too busy eating, and another round of laughter filled the room. But it didn’t have the volume loud enough for several people, and Lizzie wondered why Lavina and Nathan only smiled politely. She hoped the girls didn’t notice the tension between them.

  When everyone had their fill of dessert, presents were put on the table. The girls opened paper dolls from Lavina, a set of Dutch Blitz cards from Nathan, coloring books and crayons from Clark, and Jeb presented them with new lunch pails, pink with purple flowers on them.