“Morning’s almost over. It’s eleven o’clock.” Maryann’s eyes bore into her. “Mona, are you alright?”
“Jah, sure. Just upstairs knitting the pattern Suzy gave us.” Mona rolled her eyes. “Maryann, am I the only one who thinks getting together regular like with the English is downright…I don’t know…sinful?”
Maryann flinched. “Sinful? We’re to love. How could it be sinful?”
“Thou shalt not tempt the Lord thy God.”
“And how is this knitting circle doing that? You do know that it was the English woman, Marge, who helped me while I recovered from surgery, when I had breast cancer. So glad she decided to join the circle.”
“But we’re a people set apart from the world,” Mona blurted.
Maryann lifted the pie she had in her hands up. “Marge is a Christian and not worldly. Will some pie cheer you up?”
“Who said I needed cheered up? Fannie?”
“Nee. At church you seemed so sad, and I know how thick clouds can make people feel heavy in the heart.”
Mona felt tears form, but they never spilled out. She had self-control, one of the fruits of the spirit. So unlike Deborah Weaver who showed every emotion she felt. Mona took the pie from Maryann and lifted it to her nose. “Pumpkin. Danki. Fannie told you.”
Maryann collapsed on the long oak bench that sat parallel the oak table. “Fannie said nothing. Mona, I’m tired. Tell me what’s wrong.”
“Fannie knows my favorite is pumpkin…”
“We can so many pumpkins, it’s lots of folks’ favorite pie. Michael can eat a whole pumpkin pie for breakfast. Now, sit down and let me help carry that burden you’re carrying around.”
Mona sat at the table opposite Maryann. “Want some tea?”
“Nee, I’m fine.”
“Well, I’m reading that Pride and Prejudice book, and don’t like it. Why are we reading something other than the Bible, The Budget, or Family Life Magazine? I can tell you why. Deborah Weaver always gives in to the whims of the English.”
“Whims? Pride and Prejudice was written a couple hundred years ago. I learned a lot.”
“Huh?” Mona wanted to put her hands over her ears, not wanting to hear yet another woman sing the praises of Deborah Weaver.
“I was a snob like Mr. Bingley’s sister. Thought I was better than others….better than the English. Sorry, but I must speak the truth. It’s what I learned.” Maryann’s face lit up. “And Michael is my Mr. Darcy.”
“Mr. Darcy is proud. I don’t like him.”
“Have you read the book, Mona?” Maryann pointed a finger at her.
“A few chapters. Enough to know he’s not a goot friend. He treated Mr. Wickham real bad.”
“Ach, Mr. Wickham is the one who’s bad. You need to read it until you finish. It reminds me of Roman and Lizzie, just like Granny always said.”
Mona ground her teeth. Just like Granny always said. Fannie repeated that over and over, like the tapping of the woodpecker outside.
“What’s wrong, really?” Maryann was persistent, gazing deep into her eyes.
“Ach, Maryann, you’re making something out of nothing. Don’t borrow trouble.”
Maryann got up and shrugged her shoulders. “I’ll see you at three?”
“Most likely, since Fannie will give me no peace until I say I’ll go.”
“She’ll have her boppli in three months and is emotional.”
“Born that way. Has nothing to do with being pregnant. It’s just Fannie being….Fannie.”
~*~
Marge raced into the parking lot of Millers Variety, her red car slashing up water as she made no attempt to dodge mud puddles. If she was going to be a part of this knitting circle, she needed to stop parking down the road from her old house, wondering why on earth they moved back to Indiana, PA. How did they fail so miserably at living off the grid? According to Granny, they were a success. They found out it’s wasn’t Little House on the Prairie, and got a clear picture of what living off the grid was like. So why was she so sad? Joe, too. Was he really happy that she got pregnant or was he faking it? Or was it his father’s constant criticism since they refused to go to his church, and attend Smicksburg Baptist? Or was she imagining everything because she was two months pregnant?
Marge watched her step as she exited the car and headed into the store. Why they hadn’t changed the name yet was a mystery, but she bought all her dry goods here since they were half the cost. The bell attached to the door rang, and she saw Fannie sitting behind the counter, her nose in a book. She didn’t even look up. “Now, I call this customer service at its best,” Marge teased. “What are you reading?”
Fannie looked up, waving a hand to cool her face, tears pooled in both eyes. “Elizabeth loves Mr. Darcy.” She hugged the book as tears streamed down her face. “She almost didn’t secure him, like I did with Melvin, thinking him too grand.”
“Secure him? Too grand?” Marge chuckled. “It’s odd to see an Amish woman talk British.”
“What?” Fannie asked, lowering the book.
Marge took off her jean jacket and picked up a jar of pickles. “They are tolerable, I suppose, but not enough to tempt me.” A laugh escaped her. “Come on. No one talks like that. It’s British, and old-fashioned British, I think.”
Fannie smiled. “I get so caught up in it. Maybe too much, being pregnant and all. You came for my exam?”
“Yes, and to buy a few things. But let’s get your exam over with, alright?”
“Sure. Come on into the house and have some tea.”
“I’m sorry Fannie. This is just a quick physical for you, and to hear the baby’s heartbeat. I’ve been delayed today.”
“Are the roads icy?”
Marge sighed. “I keep driving past our old place and…daydreaming. Why didn’t we stay?”
“You didn’t like farming, and you’re pregnant.”
“Joe and I didn’t know we shouldn’t have named the animals. Too hard to kill something that’s become like a pet. Oh, well, what’s been done is done, but living down the road from Joe’s dad is taking its toll.”
Fannie shifted. “So, Joe and his daed don’t get along?”
“Oh, his dad’s so critical of Joe, and Joe can’t seem to speak up. But he is reading his Bible now, and it helps.” Marge took Fannie’s wrist to take her pulse.
Fannie’s green eyes mellowed, looking as fresh as springtime. “I can’t wait to see her.”
“Her? So you went to get a sonogram? How could you afford it with no complications?”
Fannie bit her lower lip. “I can just tell. We had no sonogram.”
Marge took her blood pressure, and then listened for the heartbeat with her Fetal Doppler. “Just listen to that….”
Fannie pursed her lips and tears fell on her cheeks. “It’s…a miracle.”
Marge nodded. “And your ‘little girl’ is just fine. Do you have a name for her?”
“Deborah, for sure and for certain. If it wasn’t for Granny, I don’t think I’d be married to Melvin. Granny helped me recondition my mind.”
Marge looked up, brow furrowed. “Recondition your mind?”
“Renew it. Transform it. I always thought I was fat and ugly, but the Bible has a lot to say about such thoughts. Granny had me memorize, ‘For You formed my inward parts; You covered me in my mother’s womb. I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made….’” Fannie put her head down and pat her stomach. “I’ll be teaching Deborah that verse.”
“That’s what Joe needs to get deep inside of him. I’ll tell him about this reconditioning.” Marge lifted up two hands as if in despair. “He’s getting hard to live with.” When she met Fannie’s eyes, the pain in them was evident. “What’s the matter?”
Fannie sighed and then started to cry. “If I had a mamm like Granny, I wouldn’t have had to recondition my mind. Eliza got all the praise. My mamm can be cruel, but I have Granny.”
Marge was taken back. Was Joe’s
pain as deep as Fannie’s? And Fannie lived down the road from her mom, just like Joe. Was it too much for him? She’d talk to him after church tonight. Working all day in Indiana County, going to knitting circle and then church would be a challenge, but she missed her Amish friends. Marge’s heart sank. She missed Granny living right down the road.
~*~
Colleen was making her stitches of the shawl she was knitting too tight, and she knew why: her nerves. How can I tell Hezekiah I think Lavina’s wedding was…weird? You marry in a new apron and dress? No kissing the bride afterwards?
“Tired from the wedding?” he asked, sitting next to her on the bench. “Or is the light not right in this little dawdyhaus?”
“What?”
“You’re squinting and hunched over.”
She put her knitting in her lap. “The lighting’s fine in here. I love this little house, snug as a bug in a rug.”
“Yep. So what’s wrong then?”
Colleen was touched that he was so sensitive, picking up on her mood. Living plain wasn’t that hard until she read Pride and Prejudice, and remembered the movie she’d watched over and over. It was more painful not to have a fancy wedding than she’d thought. Lizzie and Jane had wedding dresses…beautiful gowns. Colleen cleared her throat. “I’m surprised by Lavina’s wedding…getting married with an apron on.”
“You knew what she was wearing, since you were one of the attendants. Why so surprised?”
Colleen’s heart plunged. “Not very romantic. How come Nathan could wear a nice black suit and tie? It doesn’t seem right.”
“I think they both looked goot. Lavina got to pick her favorite color for the dress.” He took off his black wool hat and fidgeted with its rim. “How did you think it would be?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never been to a wedding with no flowers…” She glanced over at the bookshelf, her heart sinking further. “Aurora can’t read fairytales about princesses. I got rid of her book to please my grandma, but Aurora’s too young to understand. I don’t understand.”
Hezekiah took her hand and stroked it. “Everything you give up will be filled with something else, in time. How about I get Aurora some books about farm animals? And I’m sure she likes her Pathway Reader at school.”
“She does, but it doesn’t have colored pictures.”
The little room grew so quiet, Colleen thought Hezekiah could hear her heartbeat. There was usually noise coming from Iva’s big house next door. But all the kids were in school, and the laughter was gone.
“Colleen. Are you having second thoughts about being plain?”
How could she tell him yes? But no doubts about marrying him, that she knew for sure. She’d never met a man so handsome who was so humble. A man who’s big, blue, understanding eyes helped heal her self-hatred, and accepted the scars she still carried. Scars self-inflicted by cutting. No, if being Hezekiah’s wife meant being Amish, she’d be the best Amish wife to him.
“Colleen, you’re not answering my question. Maybe it’s that book you’re reading. Putting fancy notions in your head?”
“No. Jane Austen was a Christian. Her characters are women who somehow see their faults and change…” Was she being challenged by Jane, too? To stop being so proud?
“Well, I know Jeb tolerates Granny reading all sorts of things, as long as she reads the Bible just as much. Can’t say I understand it.” Hezekiah shoved his hat on. “We best be going.”
Colleen slipped her arm through his. “Hezekiah, are you upset with me?”
He shook his head. “A little concerned. Since you started reading that book for knitting circle, you don’t seem like your content self.”
“So many things are running through my mind. Baptismal classes, Aurora starting school and my worries about her. Do you think it’s safe she walks to school?”
He put his arm around her. “She walks with the other kinner. And the school’s only across the field.”
Colleen leaned her head on his strong shoulder. “Maybe I need to pray more casting off prayers, like Granny.”
He lifted her chin and planted a tender kiss on her lips. “I can help carry you’re burdens, too. Your struggle to turn Amish.”
She looked up into his eyes, searching. “What makes you think it’s a struggle?”
“Ach, every Amish person has been through it. You’re making a vow to the whole community that can’t be broken, like a wedding vow. Who wouldn’t be nervous?”
Colleen locked her arms around his neck. “Oh, I have been miserable. Keeping it all inside. Yes, I’m having doubts and thought you’d be upset.”
Hezekiah stroked her cheek with his hand. “When I said I’ll always be here for you, I mean your struggles, too. Remember how we talked at your secret garden?”
How could she forget? She tried to tell him her scars were from berry picking, but he was too smart for that. Too caring, and she told him her life’s story. Being a single mom, homeless, hiding from crazy parents who were on drugs. “I remember it was in that garden I found the love I’ve always yearned for, but got more than I ever dreamed…or deserve.”
He stole another kiss. “And you’re what I’ve dreamed of.” He took her hands and squeezed them tight. “Promise me that you’ll be more open, not hide your feelings like you used to.”
She nodded, and marveled at the unconditional love that this man had for her. He surpassed Mr. Darcy by far.
~*~
Lizzie popped a cherry pie in the oven, the girls’ favorite. Thank you for my girls, Lord, she quickly said as the same feeling of hopelessness threatened to overwhelm her. No boppli yet, but she would give thanks in all things, like the Bible said to do. Like Granny had instructed.
She arched her back and rubbed the back of her aching neck, then slowly went to finish the end of Pride and Prejudice. She always did this, saving the last few pages as if a fine dessert. But when she was done, to her surprise, sadness pulled at her heart. The Bennett sisters may not have all gotten along, but they had each other. Being an only child was so rare in the Amish community, and she had no one to share Sister Day with. And she no longer had a natural mamm. Even though Mrs. Bennett wasn’t the ideal mother, she was there for her daughters.
As Lizzie’s heart sank into self-pity, fear overtook it stronger. Was self-pity something that grew like cancer? She’d been battling self-pity over not being pregnant yet, and now as sisters got together for special Sister Day activities, she felt sorry for herself. But she had Granny for a mamm, being that she was now married to her son.
Thank you, Lord, for Granny, who is like a mamm to me. Thank you that I may not have physical sisters, but I have close friends at the knitting circle. God give me grace to not sink into self-pity, but let me see all the blessings all around me.
~*~
Granny cut into the milk chocolate bars that were left over from Lavina’s wedding, thankful she didn’t have to bake today as she felt the change in weather in her bones. Getting as old as dirt, she thought. Jack barked in the driveway, but the noise did not compare to the high pitched yap of Beatrix. Poor little thing was afraid of people, never being able to trust anyone.
She bent down to scoop up the black and brown Pomeranian and nuzzled her nose against its soft fur. “No one’s going to hurt you,” Granny said, trying to sooth the creature, but when the door opened, and Fannie and Mona appeared, the dog’s heart raced so, that Granny gently rocked the dog like a boppli. “It’s alright, Bea. Hush, now. Shh. “
Fannie tip-toed over to the dog. “Hi, Bea. Remember me?” She put out her hands. “Can I hold her?”
“Not now. Her heart’s fluttering faster than hummingbird wings.”
“Aw, poor little thing.” Fannie pat the top of Bea’s head. “You just need to learn how to be loved.” She looked up at Granny and smiled. “We humans do, too.”
A humph echoed around the room, and Granny slowly looked over at its source: Mona. The woman stood like a frozen snowman beside the door, not making an a
ttempt to take off her cape and hang it on the peg board. “You must be cold. I have hot chocolate simmering on the stove, and brownies on the table.”
Still no movement and Mona’s glare seemed to bore a hole through Granny’s soul. How she loved this knitting circle, but would she have to tell people not to come back if they didn’t bring harmony to the circle? “Mona. Did you hear what I said?”
“Jah, I did. But I’m used to being welcomed into someone’s home, not ignored…”
Granny shifted Bea’s weight so the toy dog lay against her and she pat the dog’s back, trying to calm herself.
“Are you burping that dog, Deborah?”
“What?”
Fannie put both hands up. “Mamm, Granny loves animals and can give the dog a bottle if she wants.”
“Well,” Mona sniffed, indignant. “God gave animals fur so they could stay outside, where they belong.” Granny took a deep breath, not knowing if what she was about to say would only provoke more criticism.
“All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful:
The Lord God made them all.
“Mona, don’t you remember singing that as a kinner?”
Mona whirled off her cape and plunked it on the hook. “Jah, but I’m a grown woman now.”
“And how does it feel?”
Mona gawked. “What? Being a grown woman?”
Granny knew her brows were furrowing into one grand frown, so she raised them. “My grandkinner are cheerful. And the Bible says to be childlike in spirit.” She stroked Bea’s back. “Actually, they gave me the idea of taking Bea. They have a pet rabbit that they keep inside.”
“I know. It’s ridiculous.” Mona pursed her lips and glared as if challenging Granny.
“Well, the rabbit would die if they let it outside. Has never learned to hunt or defend itself, since it was raised in a pet shop.” Granny wanted to scream, What we do is none of your business. Why are you so disagreeable a woman? But she bit her lip and decided to talk to Jeb about this new predicament: having someone in her knitting circle that made her so nervous, knitting couldn’t even calm her down.
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 58