Suzy’s eyes narrowed. “You’re right. But her dad was a minister, and she adored him. Have you read Mansfield Park?”
“No. Lavina has and she liked it.”
“I love that one by Jane. She made Edmund Bertram, who became a minister in the end, perfect.”
Colleen snapped her fingers. “I saw the movie. Johnny Lee Miller played him. What a dreamboat.” She cupped her mouth. “Oops. I’m engaged.”
Suzy laughed. “So. I saw the movie and can say Johnny is one mighty fine lookin’ man, and I’m married. They couldn’t have a gooney man play him, now could they?”
Colleen sighed. “I’ll miss Lavina. She talked about that book, and we read The Secret Garden together. Can’t believe she’s up and moved to Montana.”
“She felt judged here.” Suzy shifted. “I’m not cutting down the Amish, but they’re more old-fashioned, and Lavina had the twins out of wedlock. Most Englishers don’t even bat an eye about it, since it’s so common, but among the Amish, it’s not.”
Colleen knew her face was getting red, since perspiration was forming on her forehead. “And when I become Amish, will they look at me like a fallen woman? Hezekiah says no, but I really wonder sometimes.”
“Hey, girlfriend, you asked God to forgive you, and as long as you’re clean before God, that’s all that matters. Do you struggle with guilt?”
She nodded. “Although, I couldn’t live without my little girl, I do struggle.”
“You gave her life. How precious is that in a day and age when you could have aborted her?”
“My parents wanted me to, but I just couldn’t. Saw a special on PBS about how a baby’s whole nervous system is developed at six weeks. No, I could never…”
“Well, there are women in our church who have. No one talks about it and it’s all hush-hush, but it’s there, none the same. And the guilt these women carry.” Suzy sipped her tea. “I’m so proud of you that you gave us the gift of Aurora. She’s a doll.”
“Thank you, ‘Mom.’ Can I call you that once I’m Amish?”
Suzy smiled with a cookie in her mouth, her cheeks making her eyes turn into half-moons. After a swallow, she said, “I always wanted an Amish daughter.” She chuckled. “So, what else did you get out of Emma? I must be dense.”
Colleen swooshed the air. “You are not. Maybe I’m more like Emma than most. I did see she was insecure, comparing herself with Jane Fairfax.”
“She was full of herself.” Suzy grabbed her copy of the book off the counter, opened it and read, “Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her.’” She clamped the book shut. “See, a perfect snob.”
Colleen sighed. “We can discuss this more at circle. I’ll let others convince you.”
Suzy poured more tea into her cup. “I could sit here all day, sipping tea. Maybe the Brits are on to something. I hear they still have tea breaks.”
“We need to slow down and catch our breath in America, don’t you think?”
“Hey, you objected to these teas at first saying, ‘I don’t want you to pay me for having fun.’ Remember?”
Colleen nodded. “But now I see it’s a good thing. Maybe we should have a half-hour tea.”
Suzy laughed. “Nope. Fifteen minutes is all I can afford. Now, let’s get back to work!”
~*~
Melvin warmed his hand on the pie plate as he banged on the side door of Mona’s house. Not feeling comfortable just walking in, he took in a deep breath of crisp winter air. Not being windy, it didn’t bite his cheeks and a tranquil hush was everywhere around him. He noticed some thawing snow making a rivulet down the side yard. Knowing a blustery February was ahead, he soaked up the calm.
He could only hear the mooing of cows and someone in the barn. Maybe Freeman needs a pie, he thought, and headed to the open barn door. “Freeman, you in here?”
“Jah, come in.”
Melvin took a deep breath. Even though he was Amish and should be used to it, the smells of Freeman’s barn made him nauseated. His daed was a clockmaker and farming didn’t run in his blood. He liked the scent of newly cut wood, not cow manure. “Can you come on out?”
“Just a minute,” he heard Freeman moan.
Could he handle having his father-in-law living next to him? Never knew where he stood concerning Freeman, him being a man of no words.
Freeman appeared at the barn door. “Jah?”
“I stopped by to deliver a pie from Fannie. Is Mona home?”
Freeman nodded and headed towards the house.
Melvin followed. “How you been, Freeman?”
“Can’t complain. And you?”
“The same. Fannie’s ready to be a mamm and me a daed. We’re both real excited.”
Freeman only nodded to acknowledge that he’d heard what was said.
“Don’t have a boy name picked out yet.”
Freeman shrugged. “Why not your daed’s name?” He took off his boots and they entered the house.
“Well, if it’s a girl we’ll name her Deborah and if a boy, I’m thinking Jeb.”
Freeman shot him a fiery glare. “Come again?”
“Deborah after Granny and Jeb after, well, Jeb Weaver.”
“Why not Mona? That’s Fannie’s real mamm’s name.”
Melvin put the pie on the table. “I don’t know. She’s called her Deborah since she got pregnant. Nothing personal.”
“Sit down.”
Melvin obeyed, wondering why he felt so guilty all of a sudden. It was their kinner’s name, for Pete’s sake.
Freeman took a seat at the table and clasped his hands together, setting them on the table, as if to build a fortress between the two of them. Then, tears formed in his eyes. “Sorry, Melvin. I need to speak my mind.”
“Go on…”
“Well, I don’t say things much, but I think this whole business of naming the boppli after the Weavers had hurt Mona. She’s awful moody lately.”
Melvin’s eyebrows shot up as if surprised. “Mona? Moody? Really?”
“Well, ever since she started reading those books. Those fiction books at the knitting group, she’s been trying to pry things out of me.”
“Fannie too, and since they’re reading about romance a lot, I tell her I love her more.”
“Huh?”
“Jah. I do. Tell her I love her. And do special things to make her life easier, being so pregnant and all.”
Freeman scrunched his lips to one side, as if he’d just bit into a lemon. “Well, Mona’s been such so crabby lately, it’s a hard thing to say…”
“Women need it. Believe me. Do yourself a favor, tell your wife you love her and you’ll be a happier man for it.”
“How?”
“Well, you get back what you give, jah? If you don’t give anything to your wife, you get nothing back.”
He fidgeted with his fingers. “Well, I let her have the dog.”
“And that’s goot. But when was the last time you told her you loved her?”
Freeman readjusted the black wool hat on his head. “It’s been a coon’s age since I’ve done that. Silly.”
Melvin frowned. “No, it’s not.”
“I work in that barn day in and day out. She knows I love her. Why tell her?”
“What’s working in the barn got to do with anything?”
Freeman’s eyes became fiery again. “I do it for her to show her that I…”
“Love her?”
“Jah. And she don’t seem to appreciate it none. Most nights not even a hot meal.”
Melvin took a deep breath. “Well, Fannie made you this pie. Why not have it for lunch?”
“I think I will. Danki.”
~*~
Mona stood at the top of the steps, hand over her heart. She’d heard every word Freeman said. He works in the barn because he loves me?
And I thought it was to avoid me.
She went back into her room, wanting to finish Emma before the knitting circle. She sat in her chair, picked up Angel and her book, and then placed the book back down again Crabapple? Had she been crabby? And no hot meal in return for his hard work?
Why did she feel like crying again? Maybe these novels were making her lose her mind. She’d never thought so deeply about things in years. Ever since she’d read Anne of Green Gables, she’d been a mess. But then Charles Dickens Life of our Lord made her want to read her Bible more. And since Maryann said to read Psalms for her nerves, well, she was reading a lot. Was it bad to read so much, making her crabby?
Mona dismissed her silly notions and finished the last paragraph of her book:
The wedding was very much like other weddings, where the parties have no taste for finery or parade; and Mrs. Elton, from the particulars detailed by her husband, thought it all extremely shabby, and very inferior to her own.—"Very little white satin, very few lace veils; a most pitiful business!—Selina would stare when she heard of it."—But, in spite of these deficiencies, the wishes, the hopes, the confidence, the predictions of the small band of true friends who witnessed the ceremony, were fully answered in the perfect happiness of the union.
Mona read it again, and when she did, she did not like what she saw. Mona was Mrs. Elton, always finding fault. Very little white satin…then her eyes ran over ‘small band of true friends’. Emma Woodhouse had matured and realized what was really important in life: relationships. Mona bowed her head and prayed out loud:
“Lord, it’s me, Mona. I feel all jumbled up inside, and Granny said I can talk to you like a friend. Well, I’m thankful for getting a second chance in life, realizing that I’m a hermit and need to break out of my fears. Thank you for Maryann, my bosom friend, who listens to every word I say, and help me to be a better wife to Freeman.... We used to be so in love, a long time ago…”
She jumped up out of her chair when she realized Freeman was in the room. “Ach, you’ll be the death of me yet, sneaking up on me like that!”
His eyes were mellow. “I love you, too. Even though I think you’ll be the death of me sometimes.”
Was she dreaming? Freeman was telling her he loved her? Why did she feel like springtime, when all the snow had melted and all was fresh and new? “Ach, Freeman, I love you, too.”
He drew near and kissed her cheek. “I heard that there prayer. And I’m here, too. Not just Maryann. I know you have your fears.”
She gasped for air, overwhelmed with wanting to cry and laugh at the same time. “Danki. I need help. I get so afraid when…”
“I know. And I’m going to help you more.” He put his arm around her. “Fannie made us a pie. Let’s have it for lunch.”
“You had pie for breakfast.” As soon as she said it, she kicked herself. “And you deserve another one for lunch.”
~*~
Marge pulled into Lizzie’s long driveway much slower, since Jeb had complained about her speeding.
“Will you come in for some tea or coffee?” Lizzie offered.
“I’d love that. And you need help with all these bags.”
“Jah. I stock up when I see a big sale, and this month it’s toilet paper.”
Roman ran over from his shop, placed a kiss on Lizzie’s cheek, and offered to take care of the bags. Lizzie stroked his auburn beard playfully, and Marge looked away. Newlyweds.
She followed Lizzie into the house. “How do you keep things so…spotless?”
“Jenny mopped the floors when you were gone, Lizzie,” Roman said as he hauled in four large bags effortlessly. “The twins dusted, and well, did everything on the list.”
“Where are they now?” Lizzie asked.
“Over at my parents. Visiting.”
Marge put up her hands. “I need to go. Leave you lovebirds alone.”
Roman chuckled. “Nee, you can stay.”
“Well, I won’t be long,” Marge teased. “Only an hour or more.”
Roman looked at Lizzie puzzled, and she grinned. “Marge’s joking. Go on with you.”
Roman nodded and went out the door. Lizzie escorted Marge into her large kitchen. “Coffee or tea?”
“Neither. Lizzie, I think Roman wants time alone with you. How about a glass of water?”
Lizzie shook her head. “You drove me up to Punxsy and I want to give you a treat.” She turned to open her breadbox. “Want a homemade donut? Made them this morning.”
“Homemade? How?”
“It’s easy. I’ll teach you sometime.”
“Thanks, Lizzie. You’re my Harriet.”
“Come again?”
“You know, Harriet, in the book? Emma’s friend?”
Lizzie smiled. “Ach, danki. I can’t say you’re Emma because she was selfish.”
“You think so?”
“Jah. But the end made you think she’d grown up somehow.”
“Oh, you should see the movie. It’s great. Anyhow, what I want to say is, Harriet was a nice friend, always kind to Emma, even when her behavior wasn’t so good. And Harriet brought the best out in Emma.”
“Oh, you bring out the best in me, too.”
Marge just stared at this woman she really didn’t even feel worthy enough to be a friend to. “Well, I’ll tell Joe that for laughs. Me, bring the best out in someone?”
“Ach, stop it. And Joe adores you.”
Marge had to admit it was true. Her Joe did admire her despite how prickly she could be at times. “Well, Joe’s a good man, not doubt about it. And I was thinking…is Jenny done with Little Men yet?”
“Jah, she’s done with the kinner version. Why?” Lizzie placed a hot cup of tea on the table in front of Marge. “One or two donuts?”
“One. Need to watch my calories. Anyhow, I was thinking about the book, since I’m reading it too, being hooked on Louisa May Alcott. Wouldn’t it be nice to have a homeless shelter for boys? We Baptist have one for girls, but not men? We need one.”
Lizzie sat across from Marge, eyes wide. “I think you’re right. So many boys in foster homes, as we found out.”
“How long after filling out the paperwork will you get your home inspection?”
“The caseworker said she was real busy and would write to let us know. Roman’s looking happy about it now. I don’t mean to be a pushy wife, but those letters that Daed gets from Charles rip my heart out.”
“And Roman reads them, too?”
“Jah, and wrote back to him. I think Charles planted the seed in Roman’s heart to take in some boys. But they have to be younger than the twins.”
“For good reason. I agree. But like I was saying, there’s lots of boys who need a home. I told Janice how I felt, and she kind of brushed me off.”
“Why?”
“Well, she probably thinks I’m a flake after trying to live off the grid and failing. Back and forth on things too much. I’m like Emma, can’t finish a book, painting… my pregnancy…”
Lizzie leaned forward. “Marge, stop it. Quit putting yourself down. Daed says he read in one of his books that God didn’t make junk. So, don’t treat yourself like you are.”
Marge raised her eye and stared at the ceiling. “The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing. Zebediah 3:17.”
Lizzie laughed. “Goot, but there’s no Jebediah in the Bible, it’s Zephaniah.”
“Ach,” Marge teased in an Amish accent. “I must have thought it rhymed with Jebediah. He’s the one who told me to memorize it.”
“Jeb? Not Granny?”
“No, Jeb. He’s a kind soul and had self-worth issues growing up. It’s why he let Mona have Angel.”
Lizzie gawked. “Jeb? Well, you’d never know it.”
“He reconditioned his mind and memorized that verse and told me to do the same. Think about it, Lizzie. God dances over us? Rejoices over us? How can we n
ot do the same for some homeless boys?”
“You are a kindred spirit, Marge. I wish you were Amish,” Lizzie blurted, then put a hand over her mouth.
“Why do you say that?”
“So you could go to my Gmay, I mean church.”
“But I’d have to live by you.”
Lizzie got up and put more donuts on a plate. “Nathan and Lavina aren’t moving back. Staying in Montana.”
“I know. Gossip vine goes faster than your Amish vine. But, I just can’t live without electricity.”
“It can be put in. Englishers buy Amish houses all the time.”
“But it must be a fortune. The big farmhouse and my own little dawdyhaus. Man, do I miss that place.”
Lizzie bit into a donut. “Pray about it. I just have a feeling about something.”
Marge sighed. “Lizzie, I can’t be Amish…for sure and for certain.”
~*~
Granny lifted the baked apple filled with raisins and walnuts, and a dash of cinnamon to bring out all the flavors. She remembered how Miss Bates made a big deal about getting apples from Mr. Knightley in Emma. Was she so poor that even apples were a treat? Marge and Lizzie arrived with large bags. What on earth?
She met Lizzie’s eyes, and who promptly said, “It’s a surprise.”
“Someone’s birthday? Did I forget something?”
“Nee, Mamm. We’ll talk about it when the circle arrives.”
Marge’s red cheeks told Granny how cold it was outside. “You Englishers never wear hats.”
Lizzie leaned towards Marge. “She’d look goot in a bonnet, jah?”
Granny tilted her head. “I suppose, but Suzy makes such nice wool ones. Maybe take a peek at her new infinity scarves. You can wrap them around your head.”
Soon Fannie, Mona, and Maryann entered the kitchen, and they put their capes and bonnets on the peg provided by the door. “How are you Granny?” Fannie asked, giving Granny a side hug. “I’m so huge. Little Deborah, or Little Debbie, will be out soon, though.”
Granny slowly looked over at Mona, knowing this was a sore spot with her, Deborah being the boppli’s name if a girl. But Mona had soft lines around her mouth and eyes and looked ten years younger. “Mona, you look well. Is Angel goot company?”
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 72
