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

  “But there’s ghosts in it.”

  “Well, they’re called ghosts but they direct a man to better himself.”

  “Are they angels then?”

  Colleen hadn’t thought of that. “Maybe. But it doesn’t matter. The ‘angels’ show the future as a lesson to a man, and the Amish see it as fortune telling.”

  Hezekiah withdrew his hand. “I don’t like your tone. When you say ‘Amish’ you make it sound like something you despise.”

  Colleen put her head down. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid. Every concern I put in my trifle box I’ve realized in a few days it was no big deal. But not this time. “

  Hezekiah fidgeted with the edge of his vest. “You have to have rules. I don’t agree with them all, but I abide by them. Like when you used to drive a car, and said the speed limit was too low. You still obeyed the law, jah?”

  Colleen nodded. “I just don’t know why not being able to read A Christmas Carol bothers me still.”

  Aurora looked up at her, black eyes shining. “Mommy, see my card? This one’s for Grandma.”

  Colleen smiled, but was baffled as to why she felt so sad. She should be happy that her child was in a warm home, not being out on the streets like last Christmas.

  Hezekiah put his arm around her. “Colleen. What did you do for Christmas when you were a kinner? Did you make cards?”

  Colleen’s stomach tightened. “It’s hard to talk about, really. I can’t remember many happy times. Not many good memories, except books. I’d get my hands on any Christmas library book at school, and bury myself in them…”

  “Honey, maybe that’s why you’re struggling with the book you can’t read.”

  “What?”

  “Books were a substitute for real friends, jah? You felt alone, so you daydreamed, living your life in books.”

  Colleen thought of Anne of Green Gables, her nose always in a book. Was she so similar? She even had window friends… “But I have lots of friends now. And a family.”

  Hezekiah peered over at the pendulum clock, and then looked at her with his blue eyes twinkling with delight. “Indiana County’s called ‘The Christmas Tree Capital of the World’ by the English tourist,” he whispered in her ear. “How about we take Aurora out on a sleigh ride and get a tree? We can start some new Christmas traditions, the three of us.”

  Tears stung Colleen’s eyes, touched by how much he loved her daughter. “But the Amish don’t have Christmas trees.”

  “We’re getting a pine tree, not a Christmas tree. I want to show you something I did as a kid for fun.”

  “With a Christmas tree?”

  “With a pine tree,” he mused.

  What she ever did to deserve such a man, she’d never know. He could pry her open so fast with his love and helped heal wounds. “Thank you so much,” Colleen said.

  “For a tree?”

  “No, by listening and caring. I think I know why A Christmas Carol can now be taken out of my trifle box. I don’t live through books anymore.” Colleen asked Aurora to go check on her grandma to see if she needed help with the noon meal as an excuse to be alone with her wonderful fiancé. When Aurora was out of sight, she locked her arms around Hezekiah’s neck, and kissed him until she was out of breath.

  ~*~

  Maryann watched the snowflakes land on her black cape, and she thanked God she would be alive to see many more winters, Lord willing. The sun gleamed through puffy clouds, making streaks across open white fields, winter wheat peeping through.

  Getting a clean bill of health, no cancer whatsoever found, was the white icing on the cake. The depth of concern her dear husband showed, saying he wanted to die if she did, that he needed her desperately, and not just to tend the eight kinner, well, she was a blessed woman, indeed.

  And all her knitting circle friends’ concern… even Mona’s. How cold she’d been to her when visiting a few weeks back, but she was in shock, since Mona hadn’t been to her house in decades. Hurt was more the word; they had been so close years ago. That her kinner didn’t really know her, and Mona made no attempt to be friendly, only added to the wound she thought was long gone.

  She pulled into Mona’s place, the driveway slippery with ice and snow. Hadn’t her husband plowed it? Maryann went as close to the side door as possible, found a place to hitch her horse, and lifted the basket with warm mincemeat pies out of the buggy. She walked inside, and as usual, no movement and all was dark. Blinds down in every window. Did Mona suffer from migraines and not tell anyone? No noon meal being prepared… was there no one home?

  Maryann yelled a ‘hello’ loud enough for the cows in the barn to hear. The wind rattled the windows, making a din. Did she need to yell louder? “Hello!”

  Not a peep. Maryann went to raise one of the kitchen blinds, and jumped when she heard movement in the utility room. Mice? Ach, there were too many cats in the barn for that. She wanted to jump on the table, but knew better. Instead, she continued to lift all the blinds in the kitchen, got a broom and opened the door to the utility room. She jumped back when she saw Mona. “What on earth are you doing in there? Didn’t you hear me?”

  Mona stared, eyes round. “Nee. I didn’t.”

  Maryann looked about to see if Mona was doing laundry, but there was no sign of it. Was Mona hiding in the utility room, not answering the door on purpose? Feeling hurt, Maryann motioned to the basket. “I brought you some pies, but need to go. I have a shopping list a mile long to get over at Fannie’s store.”

  She turned and made a beeline towards the side door, but Mona spoke up. “Wait.”

  Wait? How long do I have to wait for the old Mona to come back? The girl she’d been bosom friends with in school, only to be treated like a contagion. Maryann wanted to scream, tell her what she thought of her odd behavior, but then thought of The Life of our Lord, by Charles Dickens. He wasn’t even Amish, yet believed in absolute forgiveness. Forgive me Lord.

  She turned towards Mona. “I stopped by to say I was sorry for how coldly I received you when you came over. I was nervous, afraid the cancer had come back.”

  Mona walked out of the room, leaning on the counter for support. “I forgive you.”

  Maryann tightened her fist. You forgive me? After what you’ve done? She wanted to scream, but instead pursed her lips and said, “Thank you. I best be going now.”

  “Do you want something hot to drink? Coffee?”

  “Do you have some made?”

  Mona slowly made her way over to the black cook stove and lifted the speckle ware coffee pot. “Won’t take but a minute. Sit down.”

  “Are you sick?” Maryann asked, afraid of the serious flu that was putting a record number of people in the hospital.

  “Nee, I’m fine.” Mona yanked at the hand pump, water pouring into the coffee pot.

  Maryann took a seat at the long oak table. “I have so many kinner at home, I need to be careful.”

  Mona nodded, but stayed mum.

  Maryann wished she was more passive, like some other Amish women, but she was as curious as a cat, Michael had always said. “Mona, what’s wrong? You’re moving so slow, and I do think you were hiding from visitors… from me.”

  Mona put the pot on the stove and took a seat. “I’m tired, Maryann.”

  “So you might be sick?”

  “Nee, I’m tired of life. Tired of hiding… of being alone.”

  Maryann had never seen Mona this transparent, since she was a young girl. “What are you hiding from, Mona? And why do you say you’re alone? You have two beautiful daughters and a husband –”

  “Who despise me,” Mona cut in. “Can’t blame them…”

  Mona was one of those people you had to yank something out, even a hello at times, but Maryann had a busy day ahead, making goodies for the knitting circle party. “Can you tell me what’s wrong, Mona?”

  Mona slowly folded her hands and placed them on the table. “When I heard Suzy talk about her friend having a fear of leaving the house, I now have a n
ame for what’s wrong with me.”

  “Agoraphobia?”

  “Is that what Suzy’s friend has?”

  “I think. Suzy said it can happen after a tragedy.”

  Mona looked out the window, light shining on her face. “Remember the accident I was in, as a teen?”

  “Jah, we all remember that. Buggy flipped a few times.”

  “Well, I was just getting my bearings on steering the family buggy. My daed and I were out, and I failed… again. He was furious.”

  “Furious? Because he had to get a new buggy?”

  “That he had such a stupid dochder. He always said I didn’t have the sense God gave geese.”

  Maryann thought of how afraid she was of Mona’s daed. You never knew what was going to come out of his mouth. She remembered when he passed away, she felt relief, thinking she could go over to Mona’s with ease. But… “Mona, your daed died shortly after the accident, jah?”

  “Jah. Fell into the silo and buried to death. Mamm died shortly after, but it was all my fault.”

  “Your fault?”

  “She said his mind was preoccupied with having such daft daughters, and couldn’t pay attention to his work. Mamm died of grief.”

  Maryann knew Mona and her sisters were a handful, all five of them. And her daed had no help in the barn. ”Mr. Bennett had five silly daughters, too.”

  Mona’s head jerked back. “What?”

  “In Pride and Prejudice. Mr. Bennett had five daughters that drove him mad. Could you imagine the mamm blaming one of the daughters if he died?”

  Mona slowly shook her head. “Nee. That book was hard to read.”

  Maryann recalled how Mona had only read a few chapters, and her heart sank. How painful the book must have been, seeing close sisters and a daed that was strong, for the most part. “I want to help you,” she found herself saying.

  “I’m beyond help,” Mona said, “but I appreciate the offer.”

  “Now why are you beyond help?”

  “I’m old and I’ve ruined most of my life, with fear.”

  “You’re not much older than I am. And believe me, I realize life is a gift and to be cherished. You’re going to be an oma again soon. Fannie’s boppli is due in a few months…” Maryann got up and sat next to Mona. “Whatever burden you have, I want to help lift it from you. And so do your friends.”

  “Friends? What friends?”

  “Our knitting circle friends. Very few burdens are heavy if everyone lifts, Michael always says.”

  A tear slid down Mona’s cheek. “You have a goot husband. Mine stays away…”

  Maryann hugged Mona, her dear friend who had been a prisoner to her fears, brought on by guilt. Ach, if her parents were alive today, she’d give them an earful. But her mind soon turned to Fannie. History was repeating itself, Mona always putting her daughter down by harsh words.

  As Mona openly wept on her shoulder, Maryann lifted her up to God, who was big enough to carry any burden, and make everything work out for the good. The black pieces on a bright quilt, was beautiful to behold, and the dark places in our lives, somehow, God used to make a beautiful pattern in our lives, Granny had always said.

  ~*~

  Suzy pulled into the black-topped driveway of the sprawling mansion that Missy lived in… alone. With her maid service and ‘butler,’ she lived like one of the Crawley’s on Downton Abbey. Was she one of Missy’s servants, too? Suzy cringed but soon found herself ashamed of her attitude towards Miss Priss. Was she jealous of her? Surely not. No, Prissy was more like Miss Havisham, the offbeat character in Dickens’ Great Expectations, and Suzy was like little Pip, the boy who came to amuse her, and then she kicked to the curb.

  Suzy parked in the driveway and looked up into the sun peeping through the white cotton clouds. Lord, shine on me, and give me strength. I can’t hide my heart from you, and you know I’m only made of dust and hopelessly flawed. Love Missy through me, because I just can’t. And please help me with this anger I have towards her….

  She encircled her neck with the new red scarf she made for Christmas to deck out her new green coat, and quickly made her way to the front door. The wind howled through the bare maple trees, and she jumped on her tiptoes to stay warm. Soon the door opened and Missy answered it. Where’s the maid? Suzy wanted to ask, but instead just said hello and went inside.

  “Can I take your coat?”

  Suzy couldn’t help but stare. Miss Priss was out of her lounge ware and dressed in a red sweater and blue jeans. Blue jeans? With no designer labels? Was she dressing down so Suzy would feel more comfortable? “Yes, just a minute.”

  Suzy took off her coat and Prissy seemed to admire it. “Nice coat. Where did you find it?”

  “Uh, K-Mart. Up in Punxsy.” She lowered her head. “It’s my favorite store.”

  “Oh.”

  “My mom and I went shopping there all the time before God took her. Sometimes I think she’ll come around the corner and say she found a blue light special,” Suzy found herself chattering nervously. Why was she so embarrassed that she shopped at K-Mart?

  “Come on into the main living room.”

  Like an obedient servant, she followed Missy into her grand living room where she received visitors. In the corner was a Christmas tree that could rival the Rockefeller tree in New York City. “Wow, now that’s a tree.”

  “We do live in the best area for pines. I had it delivered and set up by Mussers Nursery. What fine people they are; so accommodating.”

  “And your silver ornaments are antiques. Stunning.”

  “Well, some were tarnished and needed polished. I like doing it myself, since my husband used to do it.”

  Suzy had been praying that Prissy would open up about the premature death of her husband, but now that it was happening, she didn’t know what to say.

  “I miss him now, but it’s too late. I should have told him that I loved him.” She swung her hand over her mouth and started to sob.

  Suzy just gawked, and her tongue seemed frozen, unable to move. But she moved over to Miss Priss and put her arms around her and prayed. Lord, help her. She led her over to her sofa, and sat next to her. “Missy, can I help you?”

  “You already have.”

  “How?”

  She cleared her throat and tried to compose herself. “I read the book you gave me and it really did something to me, in here.” She put her hands on her heart.

  “You read the Bible?” Suzy blurted.

  “No, not yet. A Christmas Carol. Remember how you brought it over as a gift from the church, along with the shawl you made? The prayer shawl?” She got up and opened the ottoman lid and got the shawl out and wrapped herself in it. “When I wear this, I feel like I’m getting a hug.”

  Suzy felt like she was in a dream. She’d heard this from other prayer shawl recipients, but thought Prissy didn’t like it. “Well, I’m glad. And surprised.”

  “Because I didn’t thank you properly? Well, now I am. I used to be a scrooge, but I’m intent on making things right.”

  Suzy noticed she was hardly breathing and gasped. “You a scrooge? Really?”

  “You know I was, Suzy. I thought myself better than others. Remember how I treated you in your own store?”

  “Well, you were being honest, is all. I do live above my shop…”

  “I envy you. You’re happy in that little place of yours, and here I am… and miserable. And trapped.”

  “Trapped? How so?”

  Tears sprang to Missy’s eyes again. “After Walter died, I didn’t go out much. I know it’s around town that I have agoraphobia, and I may have a little bit of fear, but the truth is, I can’t drive. Never learned. Walter took me, or our driver.”

  Suzy somehow felt like she grew a foot. Here was the woman who had haunted her in her worst nightmares exposing how small she really was. A lonely woman that missed her husband, and wealth didn’t make happy. Suzy also felt proud of herself, being a shop owner and independent. “I can teach
you how to drive,” she found herself saying

  Missy wiped away a stray tear. “Sammy’s doing that. We go up and down the driveway, over to the carriage house and back. I can’t parallel park… or drive on the road. Too afraid, but I’m determined.” She sat down and pulled the prayer shawl tight around her. “I’m such a mess. Sorry to unload on you.”

  “We’re all hopelessly flawed,” Suzy quipped. “Ever see Little Women?”

  “I have all the versions of the movie on DVD.”

  “Well, you know how Jo tries and tries to do the right thing and then she realizes she’s hopelessly flawed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, it’s the human condition. None of us are perfect, and we have faults.” Suzy felt joy well within her. “It’s why I love Christmas so much and I say Merry Christmas to everyone. Christ-mas, get it?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, so you don’t have any Catholic friends?”

  “Yes, and I know they call church mass, but what’s that got to do with Christmas?”

  Suzy knew every time she talked about this she got too emotional, so she braced herself, lest she be sobbing, too. “Well, Christmas is a compound word, Christ and mass put together. And in the mass, the Catholics celebrate the breaking of the bread, the body of Christ. They celebrate his death…”

  Missy sat up straight. “I don’t think death is a pleasant topic to discuss at Christmas…”

  “I talked about my mom and your husband. It’s a part of life. And it’s why Christ came to earth.”

  The wind rattled the large windows to a feverish pitch. “Does he want my attention?” Missy mused.

  Suzy prodded. “Maybe he does. Want to go to the play tonight at church? I can pick you up.”

  Missy broke down again. Suzy embraced and rocked her. “It’s all right.”

  “I’ll start crying and ruin the play…”

  “I’ll be sitting next to you, sharing my box of Kleenex. I miss my mom something fierce.” She tried to calm Missy down. As she continued to cry, Suzy noticed a warmth flow through her heart. Thank you, Lord, for loving this woman through me. We are all hopelessly flawed without your Holy Spirit in us, making us strong in our weaknesses.