Ruth put her arm around Granny. “She’s named Deborah, after you.”
“What? Why?” Granny knew her face was now beet red.
“We expect Debbie to be a model Proverbs 31 Woman, like you,” Ruth continued. “At least, that’s our vision for her future.”
Granny’s eyes stung as she tried to hold back tears. “Your vision?”
“Jah,” Luke said. “We know Debbie has down syndrome, but she won’t be handicapped when it comes to loving others.” He glanced over at Jeb. “If it was a boy, we’d have named him Jeb, because you helped save our marriage by your love and concern. Example, too. We’re aiming for Debbie to be a person who brings healing to others, like yinz.”
A flock of Canada Geese flew overhead, their annual migration in full swing. Their honking made words incomprehensible, but the love in the room was undeniable. Granny looked down at Debbie. Maybe she would not be heard, like some folks, but her love would change lives. Praise be.
When the din passed, Luke showed Ruth the book Jeb gave him. “Maybe we can read this together.”
Granny sat down and rocked Little Debbie. “I’d like for the circle to read it. Seems like Black Beauty drugged up some sad things in some of the girls. And since Easter is in five weeks, we can use it to prepare our hearts.”
Jeb sat down in the chair next to Granny, admiring the boppli. “I read Little Debbie’s won’t be made anymore. Some kind of trouble with the company. But we’ll have our very own right here.”
Granny looked up and smiled at Jeb. As capable as he was at being a bishop, he didn’t like to pry into folk’s personal affairs, and he was stalling. Lord, help him.
“Would you like some coffee?” Luke asked. “Always have some warming on the stove.”
Both Granny and Jeb shook their heads.
“I was wondering, Luke. Did you get your fishing license yet?”
“Nee. Trout season’s a month away. Why?”
“Ach, just wondering…”
Granny bowed her head. Lord, help him.
Jeb cleared his throat. “Are yinz okay, really? Need anything from the Gmay?”
Ruth was now seated on the sofa, feet up on a foot rest. “We’re fine. No needs at all.”
“I, ah, mean for Debbie. Any further testing or special help?”
Ruth nodded. “Well, the visiting nurse will be helping me learn more about down syndrome and all, so lots of reading at first. But if there’s something we need, we’ll let you know.”
Jeb sighed. “But how are yinz, really?”
Luke took a sip of his coffee before taking a seat. “Are we upset that our girl has a handicap? We were surprised; the first day, well, Ruth was upset. She wondered if being so sick for the past six weeks did something to our girl. But the nurse reassured her it wasn’t anything she did. Then I remembered how much I struggled, thinking I was junk, and yinz told me God doesn’t make junk.” Emotion welled up in his voice and he coughed. “My Little Debbie may have some struggles like her daed, thinking she’s not as goot as others, but it’s all a lie, and I can tell her that. I believe she’s really heaven-sent.”
Jeb leaned forward. “The goot Lord goes before us, paving the way, jah? He knew exactly the right home for Little Debbie to be put in. One full of love and one I think God simply smiles down upon.” He got up and shook Luke’s hand. “I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting this. I feared yinz would fight or blame each other for a so-called, ‘not perfect’ boppli. I can see your marriage is now too strong for such foolishness.”
~*~
“He said cruelty was the devil's own trade-mark, and if we saw any one who took pleasure in cruelty we might know who he belonged to, for the devil was a murderer from the beginning, and a tormentor to the end. On the other hand, where we saw people who loved their neighbors, and were kind to man and beast, we might know that was God's mark.”
Mona’s eyes begged for understanding. “Fannie, I’m so sorry. I’ve been so bitter towards my own daed, when all the time, it wasn’t him that was being mean to me. It was the devil.”
Fannie turned her head in disbelief. The devil? Is she serious? And what about her behavior? It was like her own daed’s? She thought back to Emma Woodhouse and how she pacified her father by listening, so she looked back over at her mamm, who was gently rocking Anna. “So, you think you were upset with the devil and not your daed?”
“Lend me your Bible.”
Fannie moseyed over to her Bible on the desk, and placed it in her mamm’s outstretched hand. She flipped it about and then it lay still in her hand. “Ephesians 6:10-12 says,
“Finally, my brethren, be strong in the Lord, and in the power of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that ye may be able to stand against the wiles of the devil. For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places.
“There you have it. Something I never saw before. All the fighting is stirred up by the devil.”
Fannie wanted to scream! Did her mamm ever take responsibility for her actions? She blamed her father, now the devil. Fannie mustered up courage and spit out, “How about all the verses about self-control? We aren’t puppets on a string.”
“I’m coming to that, Fannie. And this is hard for me, so be patient.” She looked down at Anna. “When I read Emma, I prided myself on this line, ‘I may have lost my heart, but not my self-control.’ But the more I held my Angel and fell apart, I realized that’s exactly what I lacked: self-control. Ach, that little dog, my black beauty, has opened my eyes.”
“Really?”
“Jah. She’s skittish, and I remembered being that way.” Tears welled in Mona’s eyes. “And I see it in you sometimes. I’ve been an emotionally unstable mamm for years, and I’m ever so sorry.”
Fannie looked around the room. Everything seemed surreal. The light filtering through the windows, the color of her tablecloth. Was she dreaming? She looked into her mamm’s eyes; she was serious, and Fannie thought she saw real repentance. But as soon as her hopes soared, anger filled her. How many women of twenty-two had to listen to such nonsense? Her mamm was unloading a guilty conscience on her about words that should have never been spoken. Cruel words! And did she think that just by saying words, pain could be erased? Trust could instantly be given?
She met her mamm’s eyes. “Mamm, I need to get ready for knitting. Give Anna only two ounces or she may spit-up.”
“What? Fannie. Is that all you have to say? I’m asking for forgiveness…”
“And I’m tired to the bone. We can talk about this later…”
“When?”
Fannie stood tall. “When your actions consistently line up with your speech. You’ve belittled me my whole life, and I’m truly sorry if your daed did that to you. But the way I look at it, if you were so hurt by words, then why would you use them to hurt me, and not perfect little Eliza?”
Melvin ran into the room. “Everything alright? I heard shouting.”
“I wasn’t shouting.”
“Jah, you were,” Mona said, as she stood up. “Here, Melvin. I’m going home. You take Anna. I’m obviously not welcome here.” Mona got her handkerchief from her apron pocket and wiped her eyes as she ran to get her cape and bonnet.
Melvin’s eyes grew as round as a full moon.
Fannie shrugged her shoulders and yelled over to her mamm, not at the side door, “Make sure you close the door the whole way. It flies open sometimes.”
“Fannie,” Melvin blurted. “What happened?”
Fannie swooshed her hand into the air as if swatting a fly. “My mamm. Making more excuses for her behavior, which I’m not buying.”
“What did she say?”
“Ach, she apologized for being a ‘bad mamm’ and she was mistreated growing up…blah, blah, blah. Words, they mean nothing unless backed up by action.”
Melvin eyes got even bigger. “Fannie, out of the abundance
of the mouth the heart speaks, like the Bible says. I think Mona was being sincere. She looked awful hurt.”
Fannie groaned. “Can you watch Anna or should I stay home from circle?”
“Nee, you go to circle, and get some advice from Granny. I don’t like what I’m seeing.”
“And what is that?”
“Post-partum depression. Read another article on it and anger’s another symptom.”
Fannie clenched her fists and marched up the stairs… and slammed their bedroom door.
~*~
Granny was light on her feet, still in awe of the miracle she witnessed at Ruth’s. How someone reacted was the real person, she always thought, and Luke was truly a healed man. He makes all things beautiful in His time, she mused.
She entered the living room with a tray full of fudgy brownies, and sat it on the coffee table. “There’s hot water in the tea kettle and bags set out on the counter, so feel free to get a cup.”
Suzy clapped her hands. “I can’t wait to tell yinz, but guess what kind of new store we’ll have in town?”
“A sewing store. One that sells lots of material.”
Suzy shook her head. “No, something exciting.”
Granny laughed. “We Amish would like a material store, not having to go up to Punxsy so much.”
“But I have fun driving you when we go,” Marge quipped.
“Will it be competition for our dry goods store?” Fannie asked.
Suzy playfully looked up. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
“Maybe?” Fannie blurted. “Hope not!”
Granny took the seat next to Fannie. “Calm down, Fannie. I’m sure it’s not a complete dry goods store.”
“Well,” Suzy continued to tease. “It kind of is all dry goods.”
Fannie darted up. “Ach, just what I need. Are you serious?”
Granny pulled at Fannie’s sleeve. “What’s wrong with you today?”
Fannie face turned crimson. “Nothing. Nothing at all….”
“It’s a tea shop!” Suzy clapped her hands again, and let out a whoop. “Right here in Smicksburg. Missy’s going to own it and live on top. She bought the Victorian on Maple Street.”
Marge put her hand on her heart. “That’s my dream house. All those colors on one house, different shades of greens and pinks. It’s kind of like a cottage on steroids.” She picked up her knitting. “But Joe and I are learning to be content where we live right now.”
Suzy looked around the room as usual before she started the book discussion. “Fannie, so good to have you back with us. You’ve missed the past two weeks, but you had a good reason.”
Fannie knit nimbly and didn’t look up. “I read Black Beauty though, and as we all know, I named my daughter after the author, Anna.”
“I thought you were going to name her Deborah,” Maryann said. “Why the change?”
“I’d rather not talk about it.” She looked more intently at her yarn. “Like I said, I read the book and got a lot out of it. I could identify with Ginger, the poor horse who was never loved. She said to Black Beauty, ‘If I had your bringing up I might have turned out like you…’ I memorized that line… I’ve lived that line.”
Suzy looked over at Granny with a quizzical gaze, as if she wanted her to step in and say something, but Granny was as stunned as everyone else. Fannie was never one to be moody or feel sorry for herself. Was she too tired to be here, too soon after having her boppli? “Fannie, we don’t look back, jah? Like Lot’s wife, lest we turn to salt and can’t move forward?”
“Jah, I suppose,” Fannie moaned. “Not easy to do sometimes.”
“And you’re awful tired. Having a boppli takes a lot out of you…”
“Jah, I’m sure you’re right,” Fannie said in a monotone voice.
Granny glanced over at Suzy and nodded towards Colleen, hoping she’d move on.
“Colleen, what did you get out of the book?”
“Well, when that drunk, Rueben Smith, made Beauty run home with one shoe, and then Beauty collapsed, Beauty stayed right beside him, in the rain. Beauty was loyal, even to an abusive drunk.”
Suzy put down her knitting. “Colleen, do you want to share what you told me? Your idea?”
“Yes, actually I do need advice. Anna Sewell really shows the dangers of alcohol by many abusive horse owners being addicted to booze. But in this case, Reuben Smith was a good man.” She opened her copy of the book. “Rueben’s wife said after his death, ‘He was so good; he was so good. It was that cursed drink.’ I thought of my dad, and some happy times. He wasn’t all that bad, and I’m thinking I should invite my parents to my wedding.”
Granny had just taken a bite of a brownie and started to choke. Fannie hit her back, and Maryann raced to her with a glass of water. When she composed herself, Granny breathed heavy, her shoulders visibly heaving up and down. “Colleen. Ach, nee. You can’t do that.”
“Why not? And Granny, sorry if I almost gave you a heart attack.”
Granny shook her head. “It went down the wrong pipe. But Colleen, there’s safety in a multitude of counselors, jah? And I say you cannot expose your daughter or yourself to people who are drug addicts. I’m Amish, but I’m not ignorant to the dangers of that lifestyle.”
“Really?” Colleen blurted, and then covered her mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that. It’s just that the Amish don’t even lock their doors at night.”
“But Aurora is safe here. And how does your oma feel about seeing her prodigal daughter on such a happy day?”
Colleen’s eyes narrowed. “I never thought of that. And she’s going to so much trouble for my wedding… it’s just hard sometimes, not having a mom.”
“It’s hard having a mamm, sometimes,” Fannie mumbled loud enough only for Granny to hear. Lord, help Fannie. Something is ever so wrong.
“You best be talking to your grandma, Colleen,” Janice chimed in. “I never counsel any of the girls to return to any abuse unless it’s well monitored and… safe. You have to be as gentle as doves but as wise as a serpent.”
“What a great saying,” Marge said.
“Oh, that’s in the Bible.” Janice looked intently at Colleen. “I know your background, remember? I say, N-O. Have a day of celebration and on another day, if it’s wise, then deal with your parents. Okay?”
“Jah, Colleen. Not everything has to be done on one day,” Maryann added. “We can celebrate Christmas Eve the day before Christmas or a few days before. And sometimes we postpone Easter if the Gmay isn’t in unity. Make your wedding day all about your love for Hezekiah and the wedding vow you’ll make.”
Colleen appeared more relaxed. “Thank you all so much. I never saw it that way. I guess this book made me feel something deep down for my dad somehow.”
“Forgiveness, jah?” Granny pointed out. “You and Jeb are working on you forgiving your daed and some happy memories are slipping through.”
“What do you mean?” Fannie asked.
“Well, unforgiveness blinds us of happy memories. But when we forgive, the blinders are taken off.”
“Hmm,” Fannie said under her breath.
“Maryann, did you like the book?” Suzy asked.
“I really did. Made me see our horses in a whole new way. I even talk to them now.” She chuckled. “But it made me feel… normal out on the streets riding in a buggy. People have always driven buggies up until recently and I forget that when I see people whizzing by in their heated cars. I think the automobile started the downfall of civilization.”
Janice let out a laugh. “Maryann, are you serious?”
“Jah, I am. The English make everything go so fast, and with new technology, we’re always having to decide on this and that. It all clutters the mind, leaving less room for peace and simplicity.”
Janice sighed. “Maybe you’re right. We have maybe too many choices.”
“Did you like Black Beauty, Janice?” Maryann asked.
“Oh, absolutely. Everything that was said about keepi
ng the Sabbath was so right on. Obviously Anna Sewell had an ax to grind with employers who made people work on Sunday, since the one guy died because he worked on Sundays. What was his name?”
Colleen flipped through her book. “Seedy Sam. What an awful name.”
Janice laughed. “I agree. But you see, Anna Sewell was a Quaker woman, and they’re all into social justice and reform. It was the Quakers who were the first abolitionist, who really brought down slavery in America. George Fox, who wrote the Foxes Book of Martyrs, started the Quaker.”
“I knew it,” Granny said. “There’s something about Black Beauty that seems Amish.”
“I didn’t say Amish, I said Quaker,” Janice corrected.
“I know, but we both have roots back to Europe and religious persecution. Quakers are considered Plain people, like the Amish.”
“So,” Marge prodded. “What makes Black Beauty seem Amish?”
“Well, a clear distinction between right and wrong for one thing. And the easy way isn’t always the right way to go. I suppose the emphasis on being kind and peace-loving, too.”
“I think it’s called a Christian worldview, Granny,” Janice said. “It’s found in older books, but not many modern. Seems like we have to apologize for saying there’s right and wrong today.”
“It’s ridiculous,” Marge continued. “That’s why I like to watch Little House on television,” Marge winked at Granny. “But we all know it’s not so easy living off the grid.”
“Jah, and you learned your lesson by trying, and that’s a goot thing,” Granny said warmly. She smiled at Marge. “So, did you like the book?”
Marge nodded. “I was surprised, it being considered a children’s book and all. It had such deep meaning. Sad at times. Like when Beauty said he had the best stable and food, but not liberty. Made me feel sorry for him. But then there were parts that I thought had real spiritual depth.” She fanned her face with one hand. “I get emotional when I talk about this, but Beauty knew his master’s voice and followed him blindly, literally. When Beauty was afraid to leave the burning barn, he was calmed down by his master’s voice and when a cloth was put over his eyes, he didn’t resist being led out, all because he trusted that voice.” She shook her head. “Why I resist the voice of God so much, when He’s shown me time and time again that He’s good and can be trusted, I’ll never know.”
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 76