“Is there room for me?” Granny gasped, in an exaggerated tone, teasing Jenny.
Jenny got up and put her arm around Granny’s neck. “We’ll all squeeze in real tight. I love you Oma.”
“And I love you.”
~*~
Colleen admired the way Hezekiah could parallel park a horse and buggy. “I can’t do this with a car.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”
“Nee. You go ahead on in. I’ll walk up the road to see the smithy.”
“Okay.” She kissed his cheek and made her way out of the buggy, a thrill shooting through her heart to go shopping at Suzy’s. Being able to buy colorful wool yarn to crochet rugs for her grandma’s shop was the perfect solution to her feelings of…suffocation. But, the things she was learning to let go of to become Amish and marry Hezekiah were mere trifles, like Granny had told her. Colleen even had a trifle box given to her that Jeb made. Every little thing that didn’t really matter in the long run, was a trifle and when she was upset about it, she’d write it on a scrap of paper, then stuff it in the little box. In a few days, she’d read her trifles, and they were all impulses, every one. Or worse yet, complaints. No, she would not let her life be run on impulses ever again.
When Colleen entered the shop the little bell rang as usual, adding charm to the shop. Suzy was at her desk, talking on the phone, so intent on her conversation, she almost didn’t look up. But she did, and flashed Colleen a forced smile.
Lord, I cast Suzy on you. Something isn’t right. Not only had she learned how to make fancy cake fondant with Granny over the past weeks, but also how to cast her cares on God, as soon as they came. She looked around at all the vibrant colors and was immediately drawn to the deep crimson chunky wool.
Colleen took the yarn off the shelf and looked at the price. Fair enough, knowing that it was real wool from a real sheep. And like Suzy always said, Life was too short to knit with cheap yarn. Colleen jumped when she heard the phone slam down. She twirled around to see Suzy, whose face was flushed. “What’s wrong?”
Suzy pursed her lips and closed her eyes, and Colleen knew she was counting to ten mentally. When done she said very calmly, “Nothing’s wrong. What makes you think something’s wrong?”
Colleen made her way over to the desk. “You slammed the phone down.”
“No. I dropped it.” She wiped the sweat from her face. “I’ve been dying wool in the kitchen and am exhausted. Closing the shop tomorrow, so working double-time.”
“Are you still volunteering over at the church dinner?”
“Dave is, but I need to keep at it here. “ She sighed. “Sometimes I feel like Marmee in Little Women. People always calling me out, but I just don’t have the time.”
“But you just said you were staying here.” Colleen looked into Suzy’s eyes for her meaning, but found none.
Suzy got out the next knitting project she was on, having to knit every item in the store, and began to knit. “We have a shut-in list at the church. I’m one of the contact people. And someone just called to see if I could be assigned to a woman. “She shifted in her chair. “I am one person, and I simply said I could not get out today. She lives two miles out of town, and there’s a chance of an ice storm. So, I simply said no…” Suzy looked up at Colleen distressed. “But I know Mrs. March would be going…”
Colleen took a seat by the desk. “Mrs. March isn’t a real person.”
“No, Louisa May Alcott wrote about her own mother when creating Mrs. March. Her mom was real, though.”
Colleen fidgeted with the yarn in her hands. “Well, romanticized a bit though.”
Suzy tried to conceal a grin, but couldn’t, and smiled. “How’d you get so smart? Is it those baptism classes you’re taking with Jeb?”
Colleen shook her head. “I’m like you. When we read Pride and Prejudice, it took me a week to get over not having a wedding gown. Reading makes you think, and sift through what’s really important.”
Suzy giggled. “Okay, it’s not Jeb you’re spending time with, it’s Granny. She uses baking terms at times to get her point across.”
“What?”
“Sifting. You said sifting through what’s important.”
Colleen knew she was changing from spending time with Granny and beamed. “Well, like I was saying, the more I read books, classic old books, I see how far we’ve gone away from normal. Look how simple Meg’s wedding was? Aunt March was appalled, and I found myself laughing at her. Her big old house and fine furniture didn’t make her very happy, either…”
“Like so many people losing their big homes. Their American Dream…” Suzy grabbed her phone off the receiver but put it back again. “It makes me so angry.”
Colleen had only seen Suzy calm and steady and didn’t know what to say. “Suzy, what’s really wrong?”
Again, Suzy closed her eyes a few seconds and then exhaled audibly. “The new shut-in on the list. She’s always put her nose up at Dave and me, living on top of our store. She’s loaded, and used to come in and buy lots of yarn, but I’d rather have pleasant customers.”
“So why is she on the shut-in list?”
“When her husband died a few years back, she developed agoraphobia. Now I am supposed to visit… Lord, help me!”
Colleen shook her head. “So, she’s a rich snob who looked down on you, like Mrs. March and her girls were looked down on, right?”
Suzy slowly made eye contact with Colleen. “Exactly. Something about Mrs. March has gotten to me. She’s too perfect and I am, ‘hopelessly flawed’.”
Colleen burst into laughter at Suzy’s dramatics. “Everyone is. No one’s perfect. ” She got up and grabbed more of the crimson wool from the shelf. “Hezekiah will be here to pick me up any minute. How about you give me the lady’s address and I can go see her.”
“In your buggy?”
Colleen groaned. “I forgot. Will I ever be able to live without a car?” She set the yarn on the desk as Suzy wrote out her bill. “Agoraphobia is afraid of going out of your house, right?”
“Yes. I don’t get it. The woman was the town gossip, and now she can’t even get her own mail. Depended on her husband too much, I suppose.” Suzy moaned. “But the church will help her. Yep, we Baptist are always there….”
~*~
Janice dipped a ladle into the turkey gravy to see its consistency. Perfect. Now the taste test. She poured the gravy into a bowl, grabbed a spoon and had herself gravy soup.
“Did it work?” Marge asked.
Janice licked her lips. “Yes, it did. Who would have thought basting a turkey with wine and butter.” She put a finger to her mouth. “It’s a secret, right? We know alcohol burns off, and we’re only using it for taste.”
Marge chuckled. “That’s one thing about the Baptist I don’t get. Jesus turned water into wine.”
“I know, but we have the church rules to follow, and it’s a small price to pay to be Baptist.”
“Well, Joe and I were never drinkers, so it’s not a problem. But I wonder if in a century from now, we’ll look back and say that was too strict.”
Janice narrowed her gaze. “We won’t be here in a century. What are you getting at?”
“Well, Little Women was written a century ago, and we see how silly it is now that Jo couldn’t be a writer, being a woman.”
Janice took off her apron and plunked herself in a chair. “Well, what I got out of the book hit a little closer to home.” She fidgeted with her wedding ring. “Jo moved away from home, and look what she found?”
“A husband?”
“Well, she found out what she was made of inside. The professor helped her, but you know what I mean. I just wonder…”
“What?”
“Well, you know how Jerry has his doctorate in theology now…he could teach at a seminary.”
Marge slowly started to ladle mashed potatoes into serving bowls. “Go on…”
She cleared her throat, not wanting to unse
ttle a parishioner. She knew better. A pastor’s wife had to keep things in confidence, even from her closest friends. “Well, maybe Jerry needs to move on to teaching…”
“Where?”
Janice knew several places he could teach, but they were all far from Smicksburg, down in the South…a place Jerry missed at times. She tried to twist her wedding ring off, but again, her knuckles were swollen. November and arthritis seemed to go together. She looked up to see Marge with fear etched all over her face. “What’s wrong? Is something burning?”
“Where would you move?” Marge blurted.
“Oh. I’m just talking out loud. Most likely, we’ll be here in Smicksburg until our dying day. We have burial plots bought at the cemetery. Jerry and I said there’s no other place on earth like Smicksburg to be our final resting place. I mean, the cemetery view is gorgeous.”
Marge rolled her eyes. “For Pete’s sake, stop talking about dying! Are you alright?”
Janice slowly got up to pour gravy into the white gravy boats she’d gotten at the Dollar Tree. “Well, Beth died in the book; you know we all die sometime. But to be honest, there was something that really made me want to be more content with what I have, and be thriftier.” She picked up a gravy boat. “Guess where I got this?”
“Wow, what a mystery. You and Jerry are those Craigslist people, so it was at an estate, in the parlor, with a knife.”
“What?” Janice asked. “Hey, this wine in here. You didn’t….”
“The game Clue? Haven’t you ever played it?”
“No.” She dismissed Marge’s attempt at a joke. “The Dollar Tree. I buy everything there, and it really is a dollar. Not like all the other stores that have dollar in their name.”
Janice handed the gravy boat to Marge. “Feel how heavy it is. Not cheap.”
Marge reluctantly took the boat and held it. “Wonderful. Only a buck. Great.”
“What’s wrong?”
Now Marge sat down. “I don’t know. These classic old-fashioned books we’re reading are making us all so serious, don’t you think? I mean, Fannie still slipped into her Jane Austen talk, and it’s weird. ‘I prefer to have a girl above all things’. She really said that.”
“What’s wrong with that? She wants a girl.”
“It’s how she said it. I tell you, it’s a weird thing to hear an Amish woman talk British. She also keeps saying, ‘In vain have I struggled’. “
“What’s she struggling with?”
“Her mom again, but that’s not the point. These old books are too deep sometimes.”
“Well, I like them. It’s hard to find good reading these days. And if we’re being changed, then, well, it’s good. I plan to be as frugal as Mrs. March, since this country’s headed towards another recession. And giving is pretty low right now.”
Marge shot up from her chair. “You’re moving because the church isn’t making it. Will the church have to close down? I’ve seen it before. Little churches aren’t making it.”
Janice held up a hand as if to shield herself from Marge’s verbal barrage. “Hey, your imagination is running wild. The church is doing fine…but the budget for outreach is low. And that’s why I want to tighten up, and be like Mrs. March. She was poor, but had enough to give to the Hummel’s. There’s lots of Hummels on the streets, and if I can help save a buck, I have more to give into that account.”
Tears formed in Marge’s eyes. “I feel the same way. Our house back in Indiana is big enough to take in a homeless family. Too big, in fact. I really miss our little dawdyhaus.” Marge held onto the white chair and slowly sat back down. “That was odd.”
“What?” Janice asked, but when she turned to see Marge’s pale face made, her stomach tighten. “Marge, you’re so white. Are you okay?”
Marge held out her hands. “I feel all shaky all of a sudden. Look at my hands.”
Janice noticed she was visibly trembling. “Have you been around sick patients?”
“Bad flu going around.”
Janice put her hand on Marge’s forehead. “You feel warm. Best get Joe to take you home right now.”
Marge shook her head but Janice insisted. “Granny will be here any minute, and I don’t want her to catch this. She’s old. I’m getting Joe.”
~*~
Granny lugged her basket full of hot homemade bread into the kitchen, and was startled to hear Janice’s voice in a panic. But when she made out what she said, her heart sank. “Granny will be here any minute, and I don’t want her to catch this. She’s old… Well, Janice wasn’t young either, but she had two more decades on her. She remembered Janice’s offer with the turkey. Did she think she was too old to make a decent meal for Jeb? Take leftovers from the church? Well, it was a special day, and she didn’t need help.
Janice whizzed out of the kitchen eyes wide. “Have you seen Joe?”
Granny pointed across the fellowship hall. “He’s over there, setting up tables.”
Janice pointed a finger at Granny’s face. “You stay here, and don’t go into the kitchen. Marge is in there and….”
“I’m as old as dirt and you think it’s dangerous for me to get sick. Ach, I got the flu last year and shook it right off.”
Janice embraced Granny. “I’m sorry. Just concerned about you.” She released Granny and ran over to get Joe.
Lizzie put her hand on Granny’s shoulder. “You’re hurt, aren’t you?”
“Nee.” She lifted the basket to lean it on one hip. “Well, maybe. Makes me wonder sometimes if people view me like Aunt March.”
Lizzie eyebrows creased. “But you’re not grouchy.”
“I’m opinionated, maybe a little too much. The Good Book says to only give advice when asked. But no, I seek out trouble.”
“Mamm, it’s your gift to see hurting people and help them. You’ve helped everyone in the knitting circle tremendously.” She leaned over to embrace Granny. “You brought Roman and me together.”
Joe soon darted past Granny, Lizzie and Jenny and went to see Marge in the kitchen. Granny heard Marge moan, and it pulled at her heart. She wanted to go in and help Marge, but would it make any real difference. Was she Aunt March, the outspoken nosey aunt in Little Women?
~*~
Fannie leaned her head against Melvin’s chest. “Wish you didn’t have to go back to work. I love you ardently.” She felt his body jiggle, and then roar laughter escaped his lips. “I know. I talk funny since I’ve read Jane Austen.”
He squeezed her tight. “Well, at least it makes me laugh. What’s ardent mean? Something goot I hope.”
“Jah. It means passionately…I think. Well, a lot. I love you a lot.”
Melvin pulled her back and tilted her chin so their eyes met. “And I love you. Now, I need to get back to work, and hopefully we’ll have more customers in the shop. Seems awfully slow.”
“I think people miss Jonas running this place. He was so fun to talk to and I’m boring I suppose.”
Melvin leaned down until their heads touched. “Do you need another compliment box for Christmas? What’s gotten into you, always putting yourself down like you used to?”
Fannie pursed her lips, knowing what her husband wanted her to say. “I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvelous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well. Psalm 139: 14….”
“That’s my Fannie. Believe what God says about you, okay?”
The bell on the door jingled and soon all of Fannie confidence blew away. Her stomach turned when her mom had that shade of green in her eyes, the color of pond scum.
“I have been waiting and now we’re late.” Mona stood upright and tall, like a cat trying to defend itself.
Melvin put his arm around Fannie. “Mona, calm down. You see Fannie’s pregnant and all. If she forgot or is late for something, I can take you. Now, where do you need to go?”
Fannie’s heart leapt for joy. Since she told Melvin about her struggles with her mamm, he was more outspoken. She slipped he
r arm around him and rubbed his back.
Mona glared at Melvin. “We’re late for knitting circle. Ach, Fannie, can’t you get anything right?”
Fannie knew Mrs. March in Little Women would never speak to her daughters like this. And Granny never did either, making all her girls at the circle feel special…..equal.
She felt Melvin’s back tense. “Mona, don’t talk to Fannie like that. We all make mistakes, and love keeps no record of wrongs.”
Fannie wanted to clap her hands, but contained herself. “Mamm, knitting circle is at four today. Remember? It’s Thanksgiving tomorrow and Granny’s helping the Baptists feed the needy?”
Mona’s mouth gaped. “The Baptists? Ach, she helps the Baptists but doesn’t make quilts for the benefit auction…”
Fannie clenched her fist. “Granny makes crocheted rugs with Emma and Colleen. She doesn’t like quilting bees because of all the gossip! And when was the last time you went to a quilting bee?”
Now Melvin was rubbing her back. “Mona, we all have different gifts, jah? I donate clocks to the auction, and not all Amish women like to quilt.” He pulled at his stubbly beard. “What do you like to do?”
Mona put both hands on her hips, making her cape flow out like a bat. “I can jelly and sew aprons and whatnot. I do my part and-“
“Go to a quilting bee, then,” Fannie blurted. “There’re plenty around. Maybe the knitting circle isn’t for you, since you and Granny don’t see eye-to-eye.”
Melvin kissed her on the cheek. “I need to get back to the shop. And don’t worry about supper. I’ll make something special for you. Have fun.”
He made his way around the counter and tried to get out the front door, but Mona blocked his way. “You cook? That’s a woman’s job. Pretty soon Fannie will have you doing laundry,” she huffed.
Melvin crossed his arms as if ready for battle. “Does your husband ever come out of that barn of yours?”
“What?”
“You heard me. Does he come in the house much?”
Mona turned as red as beets and said nothing, apparently shocked at Melvin’s boldness.
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 Page 61
