Lavina had someone else in her heart already? How was that possible if she really cared for him? Selfishness overcame him. He so quickly forgot Lavina when around Sarah. Could he blame her if she cared for someone else too? And why did he feel like his heart sunk into his feet when she told him of this other one who filled his heart?
Because he still cared for Lavina. But he’d have to get over her, since he couldn’t go into a marriage with a divided heart. Nathan felt like turning around and going right back to talk to Lavina. He missed their heart-to-heart talks. She was one of the few people he could really talk to. Maybe they could act like cousins.
Nathan turned to visit Lavina again on the far side of the porch. Her nose was in a book, and her face was twisted. “Come across a sad part?”
Lavina’s eyes darted at him. They were green, definitely green, and she was definitely sad.
“Can we talk…like cousins?”
Her mouth gaped open, but said nothing. Nathan walked closer, since she didn’t protest, and took a seat again in the rocker. As Lavina stared at him in disbelief, he looked beyond her to the see the purple martin gourd house high on its pole. So many birds shared the same gourd feeder. Could he share grandparents with Lavina? “So, what are you reading?”
“Mansfield Park,” Lavina said, evenly.
“What’s it about?”
“A poor woman who really has no family, so she’s easy prey for men to play with her heart.” Lavina put the book on the swing. “I won’t be a Fannie Price, Nathan. Understand?”
The icy cold look she gave him made him shiver, even though it was a hot September day, and at high noon. He’d never seen Sarah look at him so unkindly. Was this the real Lavina? He thought of Sarah, got up, and walked away.
~*~
Marge chugged down a whole glass of ice water without coming up for air. She collapsed on the kitchen chair. “I don’t see how you Amish can handle living without air conditioning.”
Ruth continued to put hot green beans into canning jars. “We don’t know what we’re missing, jah?”
“Jah, I mean, yes. To be honest, I’m at the end of my rope with this whole homesteading, off-the-grid thing. The magazines don’t tell you that you have no spare time to relax…”
“But Joe bought you a sheep and even a spinning wheel. Isn’t that relaxing?”
Marge was touched that Joe encouraged her knitting, but when she did sit down to knit, a billion chores crowded her mind and it stressed her out. “Knitting isn’t relaxing when you’re too tired and worried about too many things that need down now. Seems like the cow’s the one running our lives. She needs milked twice a day…”
“How come you didn’t get a Jersey cow? They only need milked once a day.”
Marge groaned. “Are you serious? Joe just plunged ahead and bought a Holstein at the auction, never asking anyone for advice.”
“But he sure did take advice from Jerry and Janice, didn’t he?”
“About cows?” Marge cocked her head toward. “What do they know about cows?”
“Not cows,” Ruth said, laughing. “About God, and his conversion…”
Marge knew everyone at the church and even the knitting circle was happy about Joe admitting he needed God in his life. That his view of God had been tainted by his hypocritical father, but she had little time to enjoy the fact that the prodigal had come home, because they were too busy. What appeared to be a life of rest and relaxation, living like Laura Ingalls Wilder, had turned into one long nightmare.
Marge leaned an elbow on the table. “I can’t take it anymore.”
“You don’t mean that,” Ruth said sweetly. “You have a fine turkey farm. Wait until Thanksgiving when you’ll be busy selling all those turkeys for a goot profit.”
Marge put her head down. “You’re right! I’ll be busy around the holidays, too! I’m so near-sighted.”
“Your break will come in the winter, just like the earth. You’ll both rest.”
“But I hate winter. Why should I only get out in winter, of all things? No, Joe said if I couldn’t handle it, we’d find someone else to take over our land contract.”
Ruth spun around. “Really?”
“Why, you interested?”
“Well, it might get Luke to stop dreaming about New York if we had more land and he could farm.”
Marge slowly sat up. “Hallelujah. He came to set the captives free! We didn’t know who to ask. Ruth, you’ve given me great hope.”
Ruth sat at the table across from her. “I’d hate to see you lose this place after only four months. Why not get electricity? Your life would be so much easier.”
“It’s being connected to the grid. May as well move back to Indiana.”
“Did you have land in Indiana? Amish friends? A knitting circle?” Ruth asked questions with deep concern etched on her face.
“No, I didn’t…And I do love the country and my new church. Can’t spin and raise sheep, and hopefully alpaca someday, in the city.” Marge pursed her lips. “I have a lot to think about…jah?”
“Jah,” Ruth grinned. “And don’t make a hasty decision. Look at all your options, like indoor plumping and electricity. I know right now, Suzy’s putting up with a vacuum sealer. All she does is slice things up, throws them in a bag to vacuum seal and then she simply stores everything in a freezer.”
Marge had to admit, if she could do all this putting up by pressing a button, it would be more her speed.
~*~
Suzy put one of her favorite knit shawls over her shoulders and plopped in a chair. Having put up a bushel of beans in her vacuum sealer was easy, but after spinning all morning, the last thing she wanted was to preserve. But as usual, Amish friends brought over produce and she welcomed it.
How she missed the sweet country air, but customers who came into her shop needed their air conditioning. What did people do without it? She sighed. And it wasn’t free, either. The little gold bell on the door jangled and she soon saw an Amish woman, shoulders hunched, dark lines under her eyes.
“How can I help you?” Suzy asked.
The woman held on to the side of a table display, but soon collapsed on the ground. Suzy ran to get a glass of water and quickly lifted the woman’s head. “Here, drink this. You must be dehydrated.”
The woman pushed the glass away. “Nee. Danki.”
Suzy looked out the front window, but didn’t see any buggy, only a white car. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“Nee. But I saved every penny to get here.”
Suzy helped the woman up, and led her to a chair, confused as to why the woman would save to come to her shop. “Did you want to buy some yarn?”
The woman shook her head. “I only have a few minutes. Do you know a girl by the name of Lavina? She’s Amish and from Troutville.”
Suzy didn’t know what to say. Was the man inside the car her husband? Was he looking to make Lavina’s life miserable again? “Lots of Amish women named Lavina. What do you want her for?”
Tears filled the woman’s eyes and she let out a cry that Suzy recognized. The cry of a mother. “Lavina’s a relative?”
“My dochder. I mean, daughter.” She pulled a letter from her apron pocket. “Can you give this to her? I can’t stay any longer…”
Suzy took her hand. “What are you so afraid of?”
Another sob and gasp. “Being caught. My husband doesn’t know I’ve come here.”
Suzy clenched her jaw. She wished her husband would show his face so she could give him a piece of her mind. Obviously, this woman was being abused to have such fear. “But why come here to my yarn shop?”
“Word has it Lavina came up to Troutville to see some sheep. Sheep for spinning wool. So I thought I’d start here. Avoiding any Amish…”
“Why?”
“Like I said, the Amish grapevine. My husband can’t find out I’m here.”
“Why do you stay?” Suzy blurted.
“What?”
“How can you stay with such a…m-man?” She wanted to say monster, but caught herself in time.
“I’m Amish. There are no divorces.” She bowed her head. “And I have little ones who need a mamm.”
Suzy looked down at the letter in her hand. To my dearest Lavina, was written in beautiful script. “Lavina’s only eighteen and needs a mamm, too.”
“She’s old enough to get married, and I pray she finds a goot man.” She quickly got up and headed toward the door. She looked back. “Will you give her the letter?”
Suzy nodded. “There’s no return address. Where can she reach you?”
The woman started to speak, but put an index finger to her lips as if stuffing the words in, spun around, and ran out of the store.
~*~
Fannie shoved sliced cucumbers into the hot jar, poured the pickling solution over them, wiped the brim and attached the lid. A dozen put, Fannie thought, but when she turned to the other bushels of cucumbers near the back door, she feared her anger would overwhelm her. Why couldn’t she have a normal mamm like Granny? Her mamm’s depression always made her bedridden, especially during putting up time.
She looked around the empty kitchen. Her sister, Eliza, was sorely missed. Having had a boppli last month, Eliza’s postpartum depression was like a handicap, not able to do her normal routine.
Would she be like that too? Depression was hereditary, she’d read. Fannie immediately thought of knitting. Why on earth hadn’t she asked her mamm to knitting circle before? If it increased endorphins, maybe it could help her.
Well, it never hurt to try. She sprung to her feet a little too fast, and the vertigo that came with being pregnant kicked in. The room spun around as she gripped the table. Taking deep breaths, she got her bearings, and headed toward the stairs.
When she reached the top, a sense of triumph filled her heart, quite unexpectedly. How many times had she run up these stairs to a lonely bedroom to sob or obsess over her weight? Looking in the tiny mirror at her face she thought so fat, sucking in her cheeks to see what she’d look like thin. Praise God for Granny and my knit-pick friends! They helped her overcome her self-hatred, which made her more attractive to Melvin, her beloved husband. Now, daily, Melvin was at her side when she slid into old thinking patterns. And Granny always had the time to talk.
If her mamm hadn’t always had a problem with depression, would she have even had such a distorted body-image? Lord, forgive me for resenting my mamm at times, but I needed a listening ear growing up. Her daed thought his wife was a hypochondriac and never got her help. But Luke got help and was a changed man. Would her mamm go to the doctors? Most likely not. Could Granny talk her into it if she knew the whole situation? Most certainly. Granny would go with her.
Fannie opened the door to her mamm’s room. All the shades were pulled down, making the afternoon appear like night. “Mamm, are you up?”
“I am now…”
“I was thinking…would you like to go to knitting circle tomorrow night?”
~*~
Colleen wondered if she should have stayed home to nurse her cold, but when Janice agreed to watching Aurora, she decided to take a walk to The Secret Garden. When she arrived, she was glad to see Hezekiah there, getting out of the afternoon sun, and most likely wanting to see her too. Not being Amish, she had to end their friendship that was quickly crossing over to a romance. Only one kiss, but she’d learned every time she kissed a man, she felt a part of her heart was given away. After reading a book on courting, Colleen was determined to never kiss again, until it was her wedding day.
But she felt so flushed, and wondered about her temperature. She asked Hezekiah to feel her forehead, and to her shock, he kissed it. “No, Hezekiah. Just feel it with your hand.”
He grinned, and then flashed his perfectly white teeth, accenting his chiseled jawline. “You can only tell if someone has a temperature by putting your lips on their forehead.”
“Oh,” Colleen said, head down. “Well, do I?”
“Nee. No fever. But I could check again, just in case.” He winked and took her hand. “Why are you so uptight? I thought you cared for me.”
She withdrew her hand. “It’s not possible. I won’t be here much longer, you know. I’ll be hearing any day if it’s not too late to start college. Planning on being a pastry chef, remember?”
“But you’ll only be in Punxsutawney, right?”
“Yes, but –”
“And you’ll still live at Forget-Me-Not, so what are you worried about?”
Colleen didn’t look into Hezekiah’s enchanting blue eyes, fearful she’d be mesmerized. He was the most attractive man she’d met in years…and the kindest. But if he wasn’t drop-dead gorgeous, would she still be attracted to him? She’d only cared for Aurora’s dad because of his looks.
He took her chin and tilted it toward his face. “Colleen, I really care about you. Don’t you feel the same?”
She turned her head and looked at all the Bleeding Heart plants she and Hezekiah planted last week. It was a memorial of sorts. She was done with cutting, and as they dug holes, they imagined her past being buried. Tears stung her eyes. She could share the most shameful things, like being an unwed mother and cutting, and he unflinchingly looked at her the same way…with love. “Why do you care for me? Is it pity?”
He took her hand and she let him stroke it. “It’s not pity at all. When I see you, I see a strong woman, and I find that attractive.”
“Strong? Me? I’m not strong at all. I’m a charity case…”
“You left parents that were drug addicts and lived alone with a little girl. And you went without eating so you could feed her, jah? Then came here. I say that’s being strong. You could have taken the easy road…gotten into drugs…”
“But I’m not pure. I have a child in a moment of weakness. Great weakness. So don’t call me strong.”
He continued to stroke her hand. “You’re human. We all need love and you just found yours in the wrong place. I don’t judge.”
Colleen slowly turned to him. He didn’t judge. That’s what attracted her to this dear man. “Thank you for saying that. But, Hezekiah, I’m not Amish.”
“But you could be…” He tilted her head towards his, and their lips almost met, but she turned away.
~*~
Janice couldn’t believe she’d let another one of her snide remarks escape her mouth, right before Jerry had to go up to the pulpit to teach Bible study. Deborah has told her to build Jerry up, but it just flew out of her mouth. The Amish are busy putting up, and I put up with yinz the time. Although a joke, the defeat in Jerry’s eyes floored her.
She’d tried to compliment Jerry over the past few weeks. Encourage him, but he didn’t seem to listen. The truth was, she needed encouragement, too, and didn’t get any because Jerry’s nose was in a book if he wasn’t out ministering to church members. She crossed her arms, bowed her head to say a “casting off prayer,” but to her shock, emotions surfaced and although she tried to swallow them down, tears gushed out.
Embarrassed, Janice put a Kleenex to her nose, and walked quickly to the back of the church. Opening the door to the smell of pine trees only made her cry harder. Jerry used to have time to plant trees, and they’d planted the pine windbreak years ago, when they first came to Smicksburg.
She saw a car pull in. Another person late for church, as usual. When she saw it was Marge and Joe, she cringed. Joe had admitted to not being an atheist, and was taking a baby step in his newfound faith. What would he think of Christians…their church…if he saw her crying on the doorstep? She needed to look strong, filled with the Fruits of the Spirit: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.
When the dust settled after Joe parked, always too fast, she saw Marge’s piercing glare. It’s obvious I’m a mess, Janice sighed. To her horror, Marge ran to her, arms open wide. “What’s wrong?”
Janice put her trembling lips together, trying to compose
herself. “I’m having an off day. Think I’ll go home and knit. “
“But Jerry’s such a good Bible teacher. This is the first church I’ve come to with my journal. Can’t take notes fast enough.” Marge hugged her Vera Bradley journal. “Come on into church.”
Joe walked up the steps and nodded. “Hello Janice. Are you a smoker?”
“What?”
Joe grinned. “When I used to go to church, there was a man who used to leave the service to take a smoke outside. I always thought he was going to go straight to hell.” He looked fondly at Marge. “Don’t think that anymore.”
Janice didn’t know what to say or do, tears still welling up inside her. She didn’t want to gush in front of this new church attender. “I just needed some air…”
“So you’re staying?” Marge chirped. “I’m glad. Want to talk to you afterwards about something.”
Janice curled her toes inside her penny loafers. Lord, help me not to cry. “You go on in. I’ll be just a m-m-minute…” She buried her head in her hands and sobbed. Soon, she was escorted by Joe and Marge to the side of the church where they had their bonfires and picnics. Janice plopped down on one of the benches and Joe and Marge sat across from her. “I’m so sorry…”
Marge leaned forward. “Cleansing tears. That’s what Granny calls them.”
Janice tried to smile, but only managed a slight grin. “I did it again.”
Marge shook her head. “Spent too much money on yarn? It’s addicting, isn’t it? Joe and I just made a budget I plan to stick to. But with no electricity, what else am I supposed to do at night?”
Janice looked at Marge, not sure what she’d just rattled off. “I don’t overspend. If anything, I need to go out and do something for myself.” Janice looked over at Joe. “I’m sorry you have to see me like this, being the pastor’s wife. You’re new here.”
Joe’s eyes mellowed. “To be honest, this is a relief.”
“A relief? Me being a mess?”
“Yah. People are real, and it’s helped me see God is real. When I see folks working through their problems, like Jonas and his handicap, Luke and Ruth on their marriage, I see God helps them.” He motioned to the bonfire pit and benches that surrounded it. “It’s laid-back here. I’ve sat at this bonfire over the past few weeks, and people share all kinds of things. And they pray for each other. I see God working…that He’s real.”
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 46