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

  Lord,

  How could Nathan be so insensitive to his oma? He knew I had my heart set on him living down the road, and now, even though it hasn’t happened yet, I believe it will. Somehow, I just have this knowing. Lavina feels like a pure woman in Montana, and who am I to disagree? Lord, bless them in their new life, and fill the empty spot that will be in my heart.

  And Lord, I know Angels a dog, but please help her live with Mona! She’s a timid little thing, and Mona’s well….Mona! Ach, Lord, I can’t hide my feeling from you. You see straight into my heart. Help me tolerate that woman!

  And Lord, Danki for this Christmas season before me. In a few short days, we’ll be having the two boys home from Ohio with their kinner and a full house over at Romans. Give Jeb and me the energy we need to keep up with the young ones.

  In Jesus name,

  Amen

  Dear Readers,

  No matter what time of year you’re reading this, I’d like to say, Merry Christmas! Dickens’ Scrooge said, “I will honor Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year.” All the books mentioned in this episode are real. The Life of our Lord, by Charles Dickens, can be purchased wherever books are sold, and well worth the reading.

  I leave you all with a simple, thrifty recipe to make mincemeat pie, Amish style.

  Mincemeat Pie

  6 c. apples

  2 c. COOKED ground meat

  1 c. raisins

  3 Tbsp. cider or vinegar

  1 Tbsp. melted butter

  1 ¾ c. sugar

  1 tsp. cinnamon

  1 tsp. allspice

  Pinch of salt

  Mix all ingredients and place in two unbaked pie shells.

  Bake at 350 degrees for 30 minutes, or until done.

  E PISODE 5

  Jane Austen’s Emma

  Granny stroked Bea’s long black fur, and then took another swig of coffee. “I can’t help it, Jeb.”

  Jeb stabbed at his breakfast, a spread of potato pancakes, eggs and sausage, not looking up.

  “Jeb, are you listening?”

  “Ach, sorry, love. Hungry as a horse.”

  “Was it worth it?”

  Jeb cocked an eyebrow. “Of course. Fasting on Old Christmas and reading scripture, jah. But today I’m famished.”

  Granny took Bea from off the bench and placed her on her lap. “Like I said. I can’t help but think giving Angel to Mona was a mistake. Bea misses her; I can tell.”

  Jeb laughed. “Bea misses her? You miss her. Admit it.”

  “Jebediah Weaver. Jah, I miss her. Want me to admit anything else?”

  Narrowing his eyes, a smirk slowly formed on his lips. “Okay, what Jane Austen character am I now? He must be cantankerous, jah?”

  “Mr. Knightley. And he was always correcting Emma or…making her admit things.”

  “I thought she married him.”

  “She did,” Granny moaned. “She did.”

  Jeb’s eye misted. “Deborah, I don’t like your tone.”

  “There you go again, Mr. Knightley.”

  He put up a hand. “I mean, I don’t like the regret I hear in your voice.” He jabbed at a piece of sausage with his fork. “Wish you would have done things differently?”

  Granny looked down. “Sorry, old man. I got to thinking yesterday, having a whole day to sit and reflect. I have to admit I’m upset with you.”

  “Because I gave Angel to Mona?”

  “Jah. I got attached to her in a short while. And you offered her to Mona by putting me on the spot? We should have discussed it.”

  “I’m mighty sorry, Deborah. I can go on over and fetch her back.”

  “Nee, from what Fannie tells me, the dog’s been helping Mona cheer up, and open up, of all things.”

  “Dogs do that. But this here thing about Mr. Night, you have no regrets?”

  “Mr. Knightley was his name. Ach, Jeb, we’ve been married for a coon’s age. Why bring something like that up?”

  “Because, seems like yesterday to me sometimes.”

  Granny continued to stroke Bea’s fur. “Well, I have to admit you knocked sense into me, like Mr. Knightley did for Emma. He really helped her form her character, and you do that for me…”

  “But?”

  “But, at times, I wish I wasn’t called to such a high standard. Being the bishop’s wife now, well, so many eyes on us, and I’m afraid I’ll slip…”

  “And?”

  “And disappoint you.”

  Jeb stopped his fork in midair. “Deborah, we all have feet of clay, especially me. I can fall and know it. Makes me bow my knee all the more. I needed to fast yesterday and repent.”

  “Of what?”

  “Well, little foxes spoil the vine, jah? Small issues in my heart. My attitude about… being the bishop.”

  Granny got up, grabbed her speckle ware coffee pot and replenished Jeb’s coffee. “Now this is news. What’s ailing you about being bishop?”

  Before she could leave, he grabbed her arm. “It’s a burden, for sure. And I’m old. Mighty glad I have you to lean on.”

  Granny felt embarrassment flood her soul. How silly she’d been after finishing Emma yesterday. She’d read it before, but yesterday the gloom of the weather and lack of food, she saw the negative. What if she didn’t marry someone with such a strict Schwarsentruber upbringing? Well, she would have backslid out of the Amish community, that’s what. Almost leaving for Samuel, her first love. She kissed Jeb on the cheek. “Jeb, I need to confess something, too.” She took her seat across the table from him. “I wallowed in self-pity after reading Emma. I kept thinking how I can’t seem to get away with anything with you.”

  “What?” Jeb screamed like the wind outside. “You push every limit of the Ordnung. I’m just here reminding you there is one.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, how many Amish have such goot English friends? Wants to attend a Baptist service? Have a knitting circle with Englishers? Wants to read questionable books?”

  Granny’s mouth gaped. “Questionable books?”

  “A Christmas Carol, with ghosts in it.”

  “I never pushed you on that matter.”

  Jeb was silent, and Granny feared she’d hurt his feelings. It was true; she couldn’t get away with living a sloppy Christian life with Jeb as her husband. She reached for his hand. “Mr. Knightley, I’m sorry. I should be thankful you don’t let me get away with anything. Like the Good Book says, ‘Faithful are the wounds of a friend.’”

  “Ach, love, I know what you mean. You keep me in my place, too, and sometimes sparks fly, jah? Iron against iron makes sparks.”

  “Jah, just need to see a horse shoe being made on an anvil to see that.” She squeezed his hand. “I love you, old man, and am regretting nothing.”

  Jeb released her hand, ran over to retrieve her copy of Emma, and flipped towards the back of the book. He sat next to her and said, “‘You hear nothing but truth from me. I have blamed you, and lectured you, and you have borne it as no other woman in England would have borne it.’”

  Granny leaned her head on his shoulder and chuckled. “You read Emma?”

  “Jah, but this part kicked me in the teeth. I have been hard, and you’ve borne it like no other woman in Smicksburg.”

  Granny felt her heart flutter like a school girl. The Jeb she fell in love with was strict yet always loving. Never preached anything he didn’t practice. He was Mr. Knightley.

  ~*~

  Mona sat across the table from Freeman, feeling hopeful. She’s made his favorite breakfast: pie. After his fast yesterday, he dug in without a word of thanks, but he was a man of very few words. But he wouldn’t be able to miss the romantic gesture in strawberry rhubarb pie.

  After reading Emma, she wondered if Freeman was just so quiet around her because he was just like Mr. Knightley, who told Emma, if I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. Could it be true? Freeman rarely talked to her because he couldn’t spit it out
, so to speak? Share his feelings? His love?

  After he finished off the pie, he went over to the stove to pour a second cup of coffee, and then headed towards the back door.

  Mona spoke up, “Freeman, I was wondering…”

  He turned to her, his black beard not yet speckled with gray, like her own hair. “What?”

  “Well, if could go and visit Maryann and Michael sometime, like we used to…”

  He grew pale. “Something wrong with Maryann?”

  “Nee. Why does there have to be something wrong to visit friends?”

  “Humph. Never do.”

  Mona felt her heart jump into her throat. “Can we talk?”

  He glanced over at the clock and sat down in his chair. “Jah.”

  “Did you like your pie?”

  He nodded.

  “I grow rhubarb because you like it.” Silence seemed to scream at her, but she continued. “Can I ask you something?”

  He nodded.

  “Well, we hardly talk. Is it because you can’t say how you feel?”

  He nodded.

  She knew it. He couldn’t talk about his love for her. “Well, I’d like to hear it.”

  He shook his head and tapped his foot.

  “Come on, Freeman. You can tell me what’s going on inside…”

  He set his jaw and looked up at the ceiling. After a few seconds he asked, “Can I go to the barn now?”

  “What?”

  “Didn’t get all the cows milked.”

  “But I want to talk to you. We never do and I need to hear something…”

  “What?”

  She picked up Angel, the little black dog that had lived up to her name. “How do you feel about me?”

  His eyes grew round and his face beet red, but he said nothing.

  “Can’t you say it?” Mona prodded.

  “Nee, I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  Freeman pounded his fist on the table, a rare display of temper. “Because I’m a Christian man.”

  “What?”

  “Jah. I’ll just keep it between me and the Lord how I feel about what I’m married to.”

  Mona stiffened and sat up straight. “And what is that?”

  “A crabapple.” He shot up, knocking his chair over, and stormed out the back door.

  Mona gasped and held Angel close. Crabapple! Deep down it’s what she feared. She wanted to run after him, tell him all she’d told Maryann about her past pain, and guilt all bottled up. But the chasm between them was too deep.

  She wanted to go hide in her room and sob, but she picked up her journal notes on Emma instead.

  I’m as selfish as Emma. She’s better than I am, since she really cared for her daed. Really dedicated. I killed mine with worry, but Maryann said it wasn’t my fault. That I carried too much guilt.

  Mona didn’t want to read this, so she flipped through her favorite passages.

  I may have lost my heart, but not my self-control.

  A sob escaped and a tear slid down her cheek onto Angel’s fur. Cleansing tears, as Granny calls them, she thought. If only she could tell the woman how much she was being helped by her knitting circle. How she’d reconnected with Maryann, and making progress in being a better mother to Fannie, but she always thought Freeman loved her. By his look of distain when he spit out ‘Crabapple,’ she knew it was no longer true.

  She read the quote again:

  I may have lost my heart, but not my self-control.

  Emma was much stronger than her because Mona let the tears flow freely, losing all composure, hanging on to Angel as if for dear life.

  ~*~

  Fannie arched her back, and then rested her hands on her swelled middle. “Ach, Melvin, I can’t wait to have this boppli. She’s a kicker, that’s for sure.”

  Melvin put more canned goods on one of the store’s shelves. “Maybe it’s goot that the store is slow…and the clock business.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “I can stock up and get orders in place before the wee one takes over our lives.”

  Fannie bit her lower lip. “Melvin, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

  Melvin stopped what he was doing, took Fannie’s place at the scale and made her sit down. “Okey Dokey.”

  Fannie sighed. “Well, I’ve been thinking about that book, Emma, by Jane Austen.”

  Melvin looked over at her and winked. “Now I have two names, jah? Mr. Darcy and Mr. Knightley?”

  “What?”

  “You told me I was Mr. Knightley the other day. Most days you call me Mr. Darcy.”

  She nodded. “Well, Darcy, I’m being very serious now. So pay attention.” She shifted on the chair. “Emma in the book, well she was spoiled in the beginning, but she grew up. And there’s something I find lacking in my life compared to her…”

  “She’s a character in a book, not real, remember.”

  “I know. But you may not like what I have to say.”

  Melvin held a plastic bag in mid-air. “What?”

  “Well, Emma had a daed who was a hypochondriac, like my own mamm. She was so nice to him, even when she was selfish. I’m so ashamed of how I’ve treated my folks.”

  Melvin’s head spun around. “Your mamm should be ashamed of how she treats you. As for your daed, he hardly ever talks, so you can’t really fault him.”

  “That’s the thing. Maybe my mamm doesn’t feel loved by anyone. She murmured something in her sleep a while back, and I think she’s one hurting soul.”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, she hides in that house, you know. What if we built them a dawdyhaus in the back and –”

  “Nee. I couldn’t handle it.”

  “Melvin, it’s our duty.”

  “Fannie, you get off on tangents with these books. First it was Pride and Prejudice, and you were mad at your mamm for not being like the mamm in the book. Now you want to have her live next door?”

  “Well, lots of feelings surface when you read, like being in the refiners fire. God skims off the dross in our lives.”

  Melvin stopped weighing and took a chair next to her. “That sounds mighty spiritual. Been talking to Jonas about theology or Blacksmith Smitty?”

  “Blacksmith Smitty. He said God turns the heat up in our lives to get out impurities, just like fire does to gold. And the heat makes us bendable, too.”

  Melvin took her hand. “Fannie, you’re right. But you’re also eight months pregnant, and emotional.”

  Fannie looked down at their intertwined hands. “I’m so burdened for Mamm. I know this sounds new, but Maryann asked me to try to see the hurting side of her, and I think I have, and want to help.”

  “Well, the boppli will be here, so how about she come stay for a week to help you? Let you get a taste of what it would be like.”

  Fannie noticed Melvin’s face was contorted. “Mr. Darcy, you don’t like this, do you?”

  “Nee. I fear something…”

  “What?”

  “Your mamm’s so critical, and if she criticizes our little one, I won’t have it. She did enough damage to you.”

  Fannie straightened. It was one thing for her to criticize her mamm, but harder when Melvin did. Or was it that he was objective and could see things better? “Mr. Knightley, I agree. If mamm is critical of Deborah, she’ll have to be put in her place. But can’t you do what Maryann’s asked? Try to see my mamm’s hurt?”

  “How?”

  “I made a few pies. Can you take one over?”

  Melvin snickered. “You mean you want me to go visit her? Make the arrangements for her to stay here only after the boppli’s born only for a week?”

  Fannie leaned forward and met him with a kiss. “Jah.”

  ~*~

  Colleen sat with Suzy in the back room of the yarn shop, taking their ten o’clock Jane Austen Tea. “I’ll take Earl Grey,” she said, with her tea cup held up, her pinky finger extended in royal elegance.

  Suzy bowed and
poured tea into her cup. “That’s what I brewed, me lady, since it’s your favorite. And I bought some shortbread cookies, too.”

  Colleen squealed with delight. “I love shortbread.”

  “I know. You ate half the box last week.” Suzy winked. “But that’s what our little breaks are for. Eat up.” She placed the plate of cookies on the table. “So, are you ready for circle today? Have you finished that boring book, Emma?”

  “Boring? Are you serious?”

  “Well, it wasn’t about much. All they did was write letters, visit each other, hope to have balls. I liked Pride and Prejudice more.”

  “Well, I loved Emma. I think you’re joking again.”

  “No, Janice said the same thing. The girls at Forget-Me-Not didn’t get as much out of it as the Anne of Green Gables series.”

  Colleen put a cube of sugar in her tea. “I’m surprised. Emma is young, my age, and it shows her growing up…”

  “But she was filthy rich, and married a rich man. So, many of us can’t relate to all her sorrows.”

  “Well, Emma was lonely, remember? She had to learn how to reach out, like I did. The day I went to the Baptist mission in Pittsburgh is a day I can say I grew up, realizing I couldn’t make it on my own.”

  Suzy sipped her tea. “I didn’t see that in Emma. Good point.”

  “It also showed the social class thing, how Emma didn’t want her friend to marry a farmer. I’m glad we don’t have all those rules today, too.”

  “Wow, you’re deep. Didn’t see that either.”

  “But the thing that made me relieved that I live today, is that back in Jane’s time, I’d be a fallen woman, since I had Aurora out of wedlock. Remember how Mr. Knightley was suspicious about Harriet’s mother? Harriet was judged, and Aurora would be judged today.” Colleen bit into a cookie. “Maybe some do and don’t say anything…”

  “Sweetie, no one says anything but praise about you. What else did you get out of that book?”

  “Mr. Elton was a minister, and a real jerk. I think Jane had an ax to grind with ministers because she made Mr. Collins a fool in Pride and Prejudice, too.”