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 stirred the thick Figgie pudding mixture and slapped Jeb’s hand as he tried to sneak a finger full. “Now, you wait until I’m done, old man.”

  “Wanted something tasty after reading the letter from Nathan.” He put his hands on her shoulder, as if to support her. “Take a break now, and read it.”

  “I’ve never made this here recipe and I’m nervous. I’ll read it later.”

  “Please?”

  She turned to look into her husband’s eyes. They were turquoise, not gray, which usually meant he had some high emotions. “Sure, Jeb. Is something wrong?”

  “Don’t know. It might be for the good, but I don’t like it.”

  Granny braced herself, reaching for him, and found strength. “You don’t like it? It’s bad news…”

  He put the letter in her hand, and she read:

  Dear Oma and Opa,

  Lavina and I are having a mighty good time here in Montana visiting my folks. Lavina loves it here, everything so open and free-like.

  I’ll come to the point, since my other letters fill you in on our daily life. We’re hoping to move here. Last summer the bumper crop harvest made lots of money, and my dad bought more land. More land that needs farming, and someone to help. What I’m saying is that I can make a real living up here.

  I said before Lavina feels free. Well, in more ways than one. She feels judged by her past in Smicksburg. She said it was a weight she carried she didn’t realize. I didn’t know it, either. But here, we can raise our kids without anyone even knowing about her having the twins out of wedlock.

  Oma and Opa, I hope this doesn’t upset you. I was hoping to settle right down the road, but this visit seems to have changed my mind. I’m sorry. I’ll miss you. I’ll be writing back to talk about all that I need to do to sell the farm and land and move up here.

  Look for another letter soon.

  Merry Christmas

  Nathan

  Granny swallowed hard the lump in her throat. First her sons moved away, all but Roman, and what hopes she had of having her closest grandson living down the road were dissolving.

  “I’m sorry, Deborah. He’s young and thoughtless. Should have waited until after Christmas to write such a thing.”

  Speechless, Granny turned to stir the Figgie pudding mixture. “It hasn’t happened yet.”

  Jeb put his hands on her shoulders to massage them. “Jah, we live for today, not worried about tomorrow.”

  “No grace for tomorrow, yet. And I’ll need it for this one.” She cleared her throat. “For today, I have a knitting circle party to enjoy and when this is in the oven, we can put up the decorations.”

  “Porch is full of pine boughs waiting for us to put up,” he said, pouring a cup of coffee that was always warming on the stove. “Ach, I can’t wait.” He set his mug down and ran out the door.

  Granny continued to stare into the batter and realized she was Clara Peggotty and Nathan was David Copperfield. Peggotty, David’s faithful nanny and friend, was weaved in and out of his life. But she was always there, ever faithful for Copperfield, and it made him a steady man. Ach, the whole book was about people being spun together by chance, and they were all stronger for it, just like the knitting circle.

  Jeb came back in and ran over to Granny, putting a kiss on her cheek. “Here’s another present.”

  She turned to see the carved tray he’d shown her a few weeks back, a scene with birds flying across the top, some perched on the bottom. She gazed into his eyes, and then wrapped her arms around his middle. “Danki, my leaning post. People come and go, but you’re always here.” Tears threatened to spill, but like she kept telling herself, today was a day to celebrate; she had a Dickens Christmas party to give as a gift to her knitting circle friends.

  ~*~

  Fannie knocked on her mamm’s door louder, but no one answered. Ach, she’s hiding again? Maryann’s ‘news’ she delivered about her mamm wasn’t ‘news’ at all. Her mamm was cantankerous because she was mean spirited, not hurt. She was hurt! Ach, to blame her bad attitude on opa was mighty low.

  Fannie opened the door and yelled, “Where are you, Mamm?”

  As usual, not a sound, so she’d ascend the steps to her mamm’s abode and have to beg her to come today, as usual, to knitting circle. And Maryann asked her to do just that: beg. Opening her door, Fannie saw the usual dark room, shades drawn. But she heard snoring, which surprised her, since her mamm usually slept in until eleven or so, then was up for the day.

  Should she wake her up?

  Fannie went inside and quietly took a seat in her mamm’s rocker, watching her as she lay on the bed. Was she ill? Her mamm stirred and mumbled something, but Fannie couldn’t make it out. “What?”

  “I can’t…”

  “Can’t what?” Fannie prodded, realizing she was talking in her sleep.

  “Can’t do the dishes right.”

  Fannie stifled a giggle. That’s what her mamm always said to her. Curious enough to continue, she asked “Who said you can’t do those dishes right?”

  “Mamm. She’s always mad. And Sherry’s perfect.”

  Fannie froze. She had an Aunt Sherry, and really, her aunt was perfect in many ways. Was this a bad dream?

  Fannie leaned forward. “Sherry isn’t perfect…”

  “Daed says she is. I’m a thorn….”

  “A thorn?”

  “In his side.”

  As Fannie’s eyes adjusted to the room, she saw her mamm more clearly. Her face was contorted and she gripped the edge of her blanket to her chin. Poor thing, Fannie thought. It’s a nightmare based on truth. Should she wake her up?

  Fannie sat down again, being seven months pregnant and feeling rather heavy. “Mamm. Wake up. We need to go to knitting circle,” she said loudly.

  “You go. I have to do…dishes. Can’t play.”

  Fannie, overwhelmed by the time crunch and the emotions emanating from her mamm, was baffled, so she shot up a prayer for wisdom, and looked out of one of the windows. She remembered Christmas long ago, when she was a little girl. Her daed had always helped build an igloo and snowmen, but mamm was always in the house… in this room. Eliza had always supervised Christmas dinner and they never had anything for Second Christmas, the next day. Why?

  “Fannie, what are you doing?” her mamm said groggily.

  “Mamm, are you awake?”

  “My eyes are open…”

  Fannie shifted in the chair. “You were talking in your sleep.” She didn’t want to pry but needed answers to her mamm’s behavior. “You said something about Aunt Sherry.”

  “And what was that?”

  “That your parents thought she was perfect… and you were… a thorn?”

  Mona pushed back the covers and swung her legs out of bed, sitting up. “What time is it?”

  “Twelve-thirty… and we need to leave for knitting circle.”

  Mona swung the covers back over her and said she was too tired to go.

  ~*~

  Granny put on her best smile and opened the door to see Marge and Lizzie. “Ach, you’re early.”

  “We came to get some ammo,” Marge blurted.

  Lizzie elbowed her. “We did not.”

  Granny tilted her head in wonder. “What’s ammo? Something you need for your pies?”

  Marge laughed. “We’re done with making pies. Ammo’s slang for ammunition… it means we need some advice so we can win a battle with Roman.”

  Granny scrunched her lips to one side, not to laugh out loud at her animated English friend. “Marge, just speak plainly. You and Lizzie have a seat, and we’ll have some tea to warm you up.” Granny went over to get her tea kettle and put water into it. “Now, tell me what you need advice about,” Granny said as she took a seat opposite the table from them.

  “Well,” Lizzie started. “When we read Anne of Green Gables, well, it seemed like we got an idea. Marge says that foster homes are out of room, and I think it would be nice to take i
n an Anne Girl, I mean girl. I told Roman about it, and he’s not for it.”

  Marge groaned. “He’s a scrooge sometimes.”

  “What’s a scrooge?” Granny asked.

  “Oh, you’re not allowed to read A Christmas Carol. I forgot. Scrooge is the miserly old man who –”

  “Roman’s not a miser,” Lizzie was quick to say. “He’s the most generous man I know. It’s something else.”

  “And what is that?” Granny asked, noticing that Lizzie’s face was growing crimson colored. She reached for her hand. “If it’s not too personal.”

  Lizzie squeezed her hand. “Roman wants me to have kinner, but I just know I’m infertile. It’s been seven months since we’ve wed, and besides that, I’m not grieving about it anymore. I’m content to be the mamm to the girls and have a yearning to love more.”

  Granny’s heart swelled with love for this dear daughter-in-law of hers. “So homeschooling has nothing to do with feeling loss?”

  “Nee, not at all. I believe God has given me the girls as a gift and I feel responsible to care for them. And Marge, well, she has her own story.” Lizzie looked over at Marge, urging her to speak.

  “Well, I know what you’re going to say Granny. I feel guilty for the abortion long ago and want to pay my way into forgiveness with good deeds.”

  Granny put a hand up. “I wasn’t going to say that at all. Go on.”

  “I feel the same way as Lizzie. Some people call it the Anne of Green Gables Syndrome, wanting to adopt or take in kids after reading the book, or watching the movie, which is awesome. But as a traveling nurse, I see things.”

  “Things like what?” Granny prodded.

  “Well, we all know how Lavina came out of an abusive home, right? I helped her and want to help other girls.”

  Lavina. Granny remembered when she came to live with her last Old Christmas, having run away from home, and slowly finding the daed she longed for in Jeb. And a husband in her grandson, Nathan. “I got a letter from Nathan and he said Lavina’s doing mighty fine. If you want to help girls like her, then why not do it?” Granny got up to put some cookies on a plate and make tea, but really wanted to hide the hurtful effects of the letter Nathan sent. Thy will be done, Lord. She placed the sugar cookies and tea pot on the table.

  Lizzie got three tea cups out of the cupboard and the sugar bowl. “But Roman wants his own children, and a boy at that,” Lizzie explained.

  “Then take in a boy,” Granny quipped. “Just make sure there’s no mix-up, jah? Like in the book?”

  “Then we’d have a pretty kettle of fish,” Marge blurted out, then laughed.

  Lizzie still looked too solemn and Granny knew she felt defeated against her strong-willed son. “Lizzie, pray about it. If there’s a need, Roman is sure to want to help. But you do have your daed to think about, too.”

  “Ach, remember how Daed had Amish Camp all summer? He loved talking to the kids. Actually, he’s a pen pal to one. Charles, the boy who wore all black.”

  “Oh, the one with the dog collar?” Marge asked. “Just because he wears stuff like that doesn’t mean he needs a home.”

  “I know,” Lizzie said. “But he tells my daed things that aren’t right, and it worries him. Wish we could help him.”

  “Do you have his address? I can track him down on my GPS.”

  Granny sipped some tea. “You best ask Jonas first. It’s his pen pal and he’s able to take care of the situation. He’s a wise man, too.” Granny took a cookie off the plate. “Now, it’s almost one and I need to check on a few things before circle.” She watched as Lizzie and Marge got up, hope springing in their steps. Lord, you give and take away. Is it your will to take Nathan and Lavina far away to make room for hurting kinner? I will not fret, because your eye is on the sparrow… and my heart.

  ~*~

  Maryann entered the side door, followed by Fannie and Mona. “Merry Christmas, Granny. Here’s two mincemeat pies.” She placed them on the table.

  Fannie ran over to Granny and kissed her cheek. “Merry Christmas. Hope you like it.”

  Fannie placed a package she’d had hidden behind her into Granny’s hands. “Danki, Fannie. Something Melvin made?”

  She nodded. “Open it up.”

  Granny obliged this dear girl who was like a daughter, and ripped the red and white striped paper and opened the box. “Ach, Fannie, it’s too much.”

  “Not for you it isn’t.” Fannie put an arm around her. “Do you like it?”

  Granny looked at the cuckoo clock that was adorned with carved birds. “I love it…. Danki ever so much.”

  Granny looked over at Mona. “Merry Christmas, Mona.”

  “Well, I don’t know about that. Fannie and Maryann dragged me over here. I’m tired.”

  “Do you want some coffee?” Granny asked. “I make it strong.”

  Mona shook her head. “I’ll just sit down and do what we’re here for.”

  Maryann nudged Mona, and she quickly added, “Your decorations look nice.”

  Granny held on to Fannie, feeling faint. Mona always criticized how she and Jeb had put pine boughs around the windows and had red candles placed on the window sills. Confused, she asked, “You used to think it was too English looking. What changed your mind?”

  Mona was silent, but Maryann nudged her again. “Well, it’s a long story and like I said, I’m so tired.”

  Granny didn’t know why Maryann kept elbowing Mona, but figured it was a cue for her to not ruin her Christmas knitting circle party. Or was it something else? Clenching her fists, she asked, “Mona, would you like to stop by tomorrow and help me make pies for Forget-Me-Not Manor?”

  Mona was visibly taken back and fumbled for words. “I don’t, ah, drive this far from home…”

  “Ach, it’s only a few miles. I can pick you up,” Granny said. Lord, have mercy, I am trying! Granny thought. When will this woman ever stop this self-pity? Nonsense, she couldn’t drive over…

  Maryann put her arm around Mona. “You’ll accept Granny’s kind offer, jah?”

  Mona slowly met Granny’s eyes. “If it’s not a bother.”

  “More hands make light work.” Granny excused herself so she could greet the other girls coming in the kitchen, but she inwardly moaned. Nathan’s letter, and now having to spend time with Mona tomorrow. Why did she ask her to come over?

  ~*~

  When all the girls were seated around Granny’s long oak table, Marge helped Granny place all the desserts on the table. “I can’t wait to try some Figgie pudding. I’ve wanted to taste it all my life.”

  Granny laughed at Marge’s dramatics and looked around the table. “Where’s Ruth?”

  Janice spoke up. “I stopped by to give her a ride, since she’s so pregnant and it’s cold, and can you believe she’s still not better?”

  “But she’s been to Gmay, I mean, church,” Granny said. “But she did look pale.”

  “Well,” Mona griped. “We all know we can’t miss going to meetings unless we’re on death’s door.”

  Granny took a deep breath. “Now, Jeb and the elders don’t want a sick pregnant woman coming, for sure. Hope she’s alright.”

  Suzy took a bite of mincemeat pie. “This is good. Oh, and Colleen will be late. Hezekiah took her and Aurora out on a sleigh ride to get a Christmas tree.”

  Maryann started to choke and coughed violently. Fannie hit her back, and she wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. “A Christmas tree? Are you sure?”

  Suzy nodded. “She can tell yinz about it when she gets here.”

  “Amish don’t have Christmas trees,” Maryann continued. “It’s not our way.”

  Granny put a hand up. “I’m sure Colleen will explain. Now, has everyone had a mug of wassail?”

  “Tastes like spiced apple cider, Granny,” Fannie said. “Why call it wassail?”

  Granny grinned. “Well, I couldn’t read A Christmas Carol, but I did get some library books out on what Charles Dickens would have had when he was ali
ve.”

  “In Victorian times,” Suzy added, a bit too chipper.

  Janice laughed. “I think Suzy’s still flying like a kite from her visit today.”

  “I am. Guilty as charged,” she mused. “I had a great time visiting Prissy. I mean Missy. She read A Christmas Carol and boy did it help her. She thought of all her past Christmases with Walter, her husband, and she realized how much love they had in their marriage. Then she thought of her present state, and it made her realize she was being a scrooge with her money.”

  “A miser?” Granny asked.

  “Yes. And, well, we talked about some changes she can make. Now that I see her every week for knitting lessons, she’s not the woman I thought she was. Little by little, she’s opening up, and I’m finding a real treasure.”

  Granny noticed Maryann put her arm around Mona, but Mona wiggled out of the embrace. What on earth?

  Suzy clapped her hands playfully as if bringing her class into order. “Granny, I interrupted you. Now, what were you saying about Charles Dickens?”

  Granny sat in Jeb’s chair at the head of the table. “Well, they were frugal, using what they had to make goot food, but some went hungry. Actually, Jeb and I read David Copperfield, the book that’s really Charles Dickens’ story of his life. His life was very sad. When he was twelve, he had to work in a glue factory since the family went to debtor’s prison.”

  Silence, almost a reverence, fell over the room. “I think it was mighty hard on him to write about his life, so he studied scripture and wrote The Life of our Lord when he wrote David Copperfield.” Granny got up and got a blue hardcover book from her china closet drawer. Flipping through the pages, she reclined on her seat. “Now, this is only my opinion, but he starts this book with:

  “My Dear Children, I am very anxious that you should know something about the History of Jesus Christ. For everybody ought to know about Him. No one ever lived who was so good, so kind, so gentle, and so sorry for all people who did wrong, or were in any way ill or miserable, as He was.

  Granny eyed each girl, knowing the burdens they carried. “He was good, kind, gentle to all who did wrong or were miserable. That includes all of us, jah?”

  All heads nodded in agreement, and to Granny’s shock, Mona did, too. She held Mona’s gaze and said, “Dickens read this to his children every year at Christmas as a reminder. Maybe some of us can read it on Christmas Day this year, making it a tradition.”