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

  The side door opened and Lizzie let in a gust of wind. “So sorry I’m late. I was working with Jenny on her schoolwork and fell asleep…”

  “Homeschooling’s hard work. Take a seat,” Marge said, patting the chair next to her.

  “Did I miss much?”

  “Nee, we’re getting ready to wrap up talking about Black Beauty,” Granny said. “Did you like the book?”

  “Well, I read Jenny’s kinner version, but, jah, I liked it. Sometimes Jenny thought it was sad when Beauty got whipped. She brought up the fact that Amish never whip their horses, and wondered why people do. I told her they must be in a rush.”

  “In too much a rush if you have to whip them,” Suzy added.

  “Suzy,” Granny said. ”You never said how you liked the book.”

  Suzy looked down and knit a little too fast. “It’s one of my favorite books of all time, and that’s why I wanted to read it. I’d love to have land for a horse like I did growing up. I think of my old horse sometimes, and it makes me miss her.”

  “Ach, so you had a horse?” Maryann asked.

  “I jumped them. It made me feel like I could fly. When Beauty said she knew what it was like to be like one with his master, flying through the meadows, it gives me a lump in my throat.” She placed a hand on her neck. “And I have a hard time talking… like… now. I get all choked… up.”

  “So you miss your horse?” Janice asked.

  Suzy nodded, and then laughed as tears pooled in her eyes. “Makes me really emotional, even after all these years.”

  “Animals are goot for us. I believe Mona is enjoying having Angel around. Right, Fannie?”

  “I suppose so.”

  Granny nudged Fannie and leaned towards her. “We need to talk.”

  “About what?”

  “You. You’re not yourself. Post-partum depression…”

  Fannie darted up and started throwing yarn in her bag. “I need to get home.”

  Granny got up and took her arm. “Your mamm’s watching Anna. You can stay for a while.”

  Fannie’s lips trembled as she let Granny lead her out into the kitchen to talk.

  “Fannie, you’ve got the blues real bad. Have you talked to an herbalist yet?”

  “Nee. It’s not post-partum depression like everyone thinks. It’s that book, Black Beauty. It made so many emotions come to the surface. Things I need to forgive but can’t.”

  “Your mamm,” Granny said.

  “Jah. I’m still kicking myself that I didn’t name my boppli Deborah for fear that she’d be upset. Granny, I really wanted to name her after you.”

  Fannie’s shoulders started to quake and Granny embraced her. “Now, now. You do the right thing and forgive your mamm even if you don’t feel like it. God will bless you for it.”

  “She asked for forgiveness, saying Black Beauty helped her see she was a bitter woman, but sometimes I just wish that… you were my mamm.”

  Granny pat her back. “Well, God knows best. And He gave you the upbringing you had for a purpose. I don’t think you’d be able to be so loving if you hadn’t been so hurt.”

  Fannie pulled away and searched Granny’s eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “Ach, Fannie, you’re as kind as they come, a friend to all, like Black Beauty. And how did you get that way?”

  “I don’t know…”

  “By being broken, like the horse. And God is close to those who are broken, and well, He shines through you. Don’t let unforgiveness or self-pity block His light.”

  “But it’s so hard.”

  “God’s grace is enough to help lift your burdens. And you have a wunderbar husband and a close circle of friends to help you, too.”

  Fannie kissed Granny’s cheek and gave her a weak smile. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  ~*~

  That night at church, Janice had a hard time paying attention. Seeing Nathan’s farmhouse tomorrow dominated her thoughts. Could you put plumbing in an Amish house? Electricity? And the Amish moved so much, what if they got to the lawyer’s office to close on the house and Nathan decided he’d changed his mind?

  She sat next to Suzy, notebook in hand, taking notes. Maybe she should take notes to keep her mind from wandering. Jerry was preaching on the prodigal son, and how the father had run up to him, seeing him a ways off, embracing him with the love of a father. A good father, not like Colleen’s…

  Janice took her notebook out of her massive new purse and set her face like flint to understand Jerry’s sermon. She would stop fussing and turning around, counting numbers. The Christmas Eve service was packed out, but tonight the “thirty faithful” as she called them were the only ones here, and she wouldn’t fret. Obviously they needed to hear this sermon….

  The back door opened and Janice swung around to see who was coming in so late. Was this a joke? Some of the neighborhood kids up to a prank? For a teenager, with black clothing from head to toe swaggered in, as if he owned the place. When he got a little closer, she noticed his dog collar. Was this the kid who Jonas wrote to faithfully after meeting him at Amish Camp?

  Janice made her way out of her pew and went to the back of the church, half the congregations’ eyes on her. When she got closer, she knew it was the lad that was Jonas’ friend. But what was he doing in Smicksburg, in the bitter cold?

  She sat next to him. “I think we’ve met before. Did you come up for Amish Camp?”

  The shivering boy rubbed his hands together and shook. “Ya.”

  Janice leaned closer and whispered. “How’d you get here?”

  “I, h-hitchhiked. T-to c-cold, though.”

  Janice noticed his flushed face. Was he sick or just cold? If she put her hand on his forehead would he be upset, trying so hard to act tough? “Are you alright?”

  “Y-yes. Well, no. Coming to live with Jonas.”

  “What? He agreed to that?”

  “He doesn’t know I’m here, yet. But this is where the bus started for camp, so I figured you knew the way…”

  Janice knew she was bombarding him with question, but didn’t care. Runaways needed to be reported. “How old are you?”

  “Fourteen…”

  “Do your parents know you’re here?”

  “No. They wouldn’t miss me anyhow.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  He looked up at her, black eyes sharp with pain. “It’s the truth, that’s why.”

  Janice looked aimlessly ahead. Lord, oh, we need your help.

  ~*~

  Granny dosed off in her rocker, Bea lying on her lap, and her knitting lying on Bea. Lights flashed across the window, and she opened her eyes. Looking over at Jeb, who was reading Pilgrim’s Progress next to her, she asked, “Does it lightning in February?”

  “Huh?”

  “I just saw a flash of lightning.” As soon as she said this, she saw a car drive up with high beams on.

  Jeb got up and looked out the window. “It’s the Baptist church van. I wonder if something’s wrong.”

  Soon footsteps were heard on the porch, and the door burst open. In walked Jerry and Janice… and a teenager. Granny noticed panic in Janice’s eyes and got up to greet her. “What brings yinz here this time of night?”

  “Sorry, but we saw a light on here, and not at Roman’s.”

  “Come on in,” Jeb offered. “Need something hot to drink?”

  “No thank you. We’ll get to the point.” Jerry clamped his hand on the teenager’s shoulder. “This is Charles. And he’s hitchhiked the whole way up here from Pittsburgh to visit Jonas.”

  Granny took Charles’ hand and shook it. “Charles, Lizzie talks about yinz the time.”

  “Who’s Lizzie?”

  “Jonas’ daughter. Your Jonas’ pen pal, jah?”

  “Yes. He said to come up anytime, so here I am.”

  “Do you want to talk to Jonas?”

  Jerry said after a yawn, “Charles, we can put you up for the night. These folk g
o to bed early, since they get up at the crack of dawn.”

  “Nee, before that,” Jeb mused, trying to dispel the tension in the room. “I tell you what. Charles, you can stay here and see Jonas in the morning. All you’d have to do is walk across the yard. He lives right next door.”

  “Are you sure?” Janice exclaimed. “I mean, you don’t know Charles.”

  Jeb put a hand up. “We have a spare bedroom, and it wouldn’t be the first time we let someone stay here we didn’t know. Remember Lavina? She’s kin now, and she showed up on Old Christmas, an Amish runaway.” He smiled at Charles. “I look at strangers as friends I just haven’t met yet.”

  Charles eyes softened. “Thanks, sir.”

  “Ach, just call me Jeb, and this here’s my wife Deborah, but everyone calls her Granny. You can, too.”

  Granny’s heart swelled with love for this husband of hers. She thought back to the 1960’s when she met Jeb. He’d taken in an African American hitchhiker and then sheltered him after the KKK beat him up. She slipped her arm thought Jeb’s. “I’ll get the room ready. Charles, do you want some hot chocolate?”

  The edges of Charles’ lips formed a hint of a smile. “Yes. Thank you.”

  ~*~

  By the noon meal the next day, Charles was still sleeping, and Granny wondered if he was exhausted from his trip. Jonas had come over to see him a few times, but didn’t want to disturb him, saying the boy must need sleep. But a nasty flu was going around. What if he was sick? Granny peeped in Charles’ room. “Are you alright in there?” The boy sat up, his black hair flat on one side and sticking out like a scarecrow on the other. Granny stifled a laugh. “I have lunch on the table. Hungry?”

  He plunged back into bed, pulling the covers up over his head, and groaned.

  “Are you sick?”

  No answer. Just what Granny suspected, and she got the thermometer out of her apron pocket, and entered the room. “I need to take your temperature.”

  Charles mumbled something Granny couldn’t make out from under the cover.

  “What did you say?”

  Charles unwrapped the covers he’d cocooned himself into, and sat up. “I’m not sick.”

  Granny felt his forehead. “Well, you feel cool to the touch. So, get yourself washed up and join us for the noon meal. Jonas will be here soon.” She pointed to a pitcher and basin on a table near the window. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

  Charles swung his legs out of bed. Having slept in running shorts and a tee shirt, he went over to his backpack that hung from a pegboard.

  Granny exited the room, and heard the scraping of Jonas’ legs and crutches, and it was a wonderful sound. Jonas exercised, even though in pain, to keep what mobility he could maintain over the winter, having MS and arthritis. When Granny entered the kitchen, her heart once again leapt for love. Jeb was helping Jonas into his chair, not expecting him to sit on a backless bench. The regular seating places the Amish kept at their tables never changed, but Jeb gave Jonas his chair as he sat on the bench. Praise be.

  “He’s up now. Do the English sleep until noon, or do you think he’s tired?”

  Concern was etched on Jonas’ face. “Lack of discipline in the home. Lack of a daed.”

  “He has a daed,” Jeb quipped.

  “He’s never around and his mamm works full-time. Not a goot situation. I think he plays those games on television too much. Always mentions them in letters.”

  “Ach, we play Dutch Blitz late into the night on occasion, so maybe he’s just having fun,” Jeb said.

  “By himself. Nee, I fear he’s a lonely boy.”

  “How old is he?” Jeb asked.

  “Fourteen. Such a hard age.” Jonas grinned. “I think he needs more Amish camp. Maybe milk cows, clean stalls and whatnot. Feel useful…”

  Granny put a spread of ham, scalloped potatoes, and pickled green beans on the table. Jeb got up to pour coffee into three mugs. Charles appeared in the doorway, his hair looking no different than when he woke up. “Charles, ach, I’m sorry. I didn’t give you a comb,” Granny said.

  “Don’t use one.” He went directly over to Jonas and took his hand. “How are you, Jonas?”

  “Goot, but mighty concerned about you. Hitch hiking’s against the law for a reason.”

  Charles slowly sat on the bench near Jonas. “I had a buddy drive me most of the way. When we got to Plumville his car stalled and I said I could manage from there. Only five miles or so.”

  “Do your parents know you’re here?”

  “No, but they wouldn’t care. They took my sisters on a vacation to Florida.” Darkness crept across his face. “They do it every year.”

  “And why aren’t you in Florida with them?” Jonas asked, concern shaking his voice.

  “You know why.”

  Jonas nodded, but anger shot from his eyes. “You’re welcome to stay here a spell,” he blurted.

  Charles took a slice of ham from the platter. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

  Jeb cleared his throat softly. “Charles, I’m the bishop and responsible for my flock. Not to rule them, but to serve them. My daughter-in-law homeschools her oldest. Do you have books to keep up with school?”

  Charles nodded. “Brought them….”

  “Won’t your teachers miss you?” Granny asked. “I mean, they do take roll call, jah?”

  “Ya, they do. But kids skip school all the time.” His shoulders slumped. “I don’t want to go back, really. Jonas told me if I was Amish, I’d be done with school, so I’m thinking of converting.”

  Agony worse than pain was now on Jonas’ face. “You deserve better, Charles. I know your daed’s driven you to this…”

  Charles put his hand on Jonas’ deformed one, and started to cry. And Jonas wept with him.

  ~*~

  Granny felt rung out by the talk around the table, and an afternoon knitting session was needed.

  Marge and Janice would be over to take down Charles’ story, a horrid one of abuse. He was his mamm’s son, but not his daed’s, and how he’d suffered. Lizzie was a wunderbar mamm to kinner who weren’t her own, and she had no doubts that she’d be accepted as a foster mamm along with Marge. The paperwork should be done soon, and God had perfect timing. But Lizzie couldn’t take a kinner older than her own. Lord, you see this mess… help us all.

  She picked up her black wool and began to knit. The feel of the yarn against her fingers brought comfort, as usual. In the spring, she planned to spin again, making more yarn for her growing circle as prices continued to increase. And her yarn was warm, made of wool, something she found the homeless really appreciated.

  She saw out of her peripheral vision a red car darting down the driveway. Marge. Slow down! Granny always feared she’d hit her black Lab, Jack, as he was always chasing cars.

  In no time, Marge and Janice flew through the side door. Marge was excited as she clapped her hands and danced on her tiptoes. “You’ll never guess.”

  “What?”

  Marge twirled around and Janice burst into laughter.

  “Tell me,” Granny moaned. “I need goot news.”

  Janice seated herself on the kitchen table bench. “Well, Jeb showed us Nathan’s house and we’re buying it.”

  “Yes,” Marge screamed. “And guess who the church is hiring to take care of the homeless who come to live there?” She danced in a circle. “Joe and yours truly. And we’re moving back into our dawdyhaus.” She put her hand on her heart. “I could bust from joy!”

  Granny couldn’t help but laugh at animated Marge. “I’m supposing you’ll have electricity, jah?”

  “Yes, but we’re keeping it simple. It will still look Amish, since I love the simplicity. Think it’ll bring healing to the men.”

  “I agree. You English have things too crowded all over your walls.”

  “Yes we do,” Janice said. Janice looked around the room. “Where’s Charles?”

  “Over at Jonas’ place. Are you sure this is necessary
?”

  “From what Jeb told us, yes. He’s awfully neglected,” Janice said evenly. “Jeb said he doesn’t even own a toothbrush?”

  “Nee, but maybe he forgot to pack it. Hard to believe his mamm wouldn’t buy him something for a dollar. I know he doesn’t have a comb, that’s for sure.”

  “A comb?” Marge asked. “How do you know?”

  “His hair. It sticks straight out from his head, but then again, he said he liked it that way. It’s sad.”

  “It’s the fashion,” Marge giggled. “It’s called bed head, or something like that. The kids do it on purpose.”

  “Fashion, my eye,” Janice said. “The kid wears black all the time because he probably doesn’t have many clothes. As for his hair, if he doesn’t have a toothbrush, he probably has little else.” Janice clenched her teeth and shook her head. “My eyes are wide open ever since we opened Forget-Me-Not Manor. Parents care as much about their kids as their dogs.”

  Granny felt tears well up. “When I heard Charles open up about his life, I thought of Joe, the man who eventually cared for him. Are we like Joe, the one who will care for Charles? I’d hate to see him go off to a foster home, into a place where he knows no one…”

  Janice bit her lower lip. “Charles isn’t a horse who can’t speak up, right? Thank God he can tell others about his treatment.”

  Marge broke in then. “I’m going to do everything in my power to get Charles as a foster child. I can homeschool him, since it’s the middle of the school year, and –”

  “One step at a time,” Janice said, cutting Marge short. “Let’s go talk to Charles.”

  Granny made her way over to her China closet. “Here. Take this over to Charles. Maybe the book will help him open up.”

  “I’m sure Charles can relate to Black Beauty.”

  “And we’ll all need to be reading Pilgrim’s Progress over the next few weeks,” Janice said. “We’re on a journey into the unknown, just like Christian in the book.”

  Marge got up on her tiptoes again. “A journey I’m more than willing to make. Moving back to Smicksburg.” She ran over and kissed Granny on the cheek. “We’ll be neighbors again.”