On weekends, Amelia was an early riser. She couldn’t help it. After getting up early all week, her body simply rose and shone at 6 am on weekends, too.
George, on the other hand, liked to sleep in when he could, and Amelia hated to disturb him. So she crept out of bed and tried to tiptoe to the door, but her toe caught on the rug.
“Oh!” Amelia said, and she hopped a few times to keep herself upright.
“Amelia?” George said groggily.
“Go back to sleep, George,” Amelia said. “It’s early.”
George rubbed his eyes. “Why don’t you come back to bed?”
“Because I’m awake,” she said. “I’ll just lay there trying not to bother you, and it won’t work. So I’d better get up.”
“What do you do this early?” he asked.
Amelia smiled to herself. She thought about watering the potted plants outside, and about making a hot, creamy cup of coffee. She thought about looking out the window at the sun on the grass, and about the smell of lawn clippings and dew that came in threw the kitchen window at this time of day. And she thought about checking her Facebook and commenting on friends’ posts about their vacations, or their froglets, or about the food they cooked.
“Nothing, George,” she said. “Go back to sleep…”
So George closed his eyes again and Amelia crept from the room to start her morning.
Amelia was a very good chess player, and sometimes she and Patricia Johns would play a game together.
“Let me introduce you to my pawns,” Amelia said. “They are all siblings, and they lost their parents very young, so they have banded together. They don’t understand the politics that drawn them into this war, but they will fight together for king and country.”
Amelia always had a back story to every single one of her chess pieces. It drove George crazy because it made him feel bad for taking her pawns, especially when the rest of the pawns shared their memories of the one they lost. It was Amelia’s secret to winning at chess… and if she didn’t win, at least she had spun a fun story.
“Heartbreaking,” Patricia murmured. “I’d like to introduce you to my king and queen. They never had children of their own, despite truly wanting to enlarge their family. They have dogs, though, and they treat those dogs like children and love them dearly. The only reason they are in this battle is to protect the peace and tranquility of their borders. The queen sees your pawns and she puts a hand to her chest. Something inside of her knows that she can love them like her own…”
“Oh!” Amelia gasped. “Could she really?”
“She really could!” Patricia said. “She has a mother’s heart, but her arms are empty.”
“Is this a ploy?” Amelia asked, narrowing her eyes.
“Heavens, no!” Patricia said. “Instead of fighting, I think our queens should parley, and my queen should adopt your pawns. If we leave it to the kings, they’ll just go to war, and that would be a waste of a fine Sunday.”
It was a very short game that felt like a win on both sides. Amelia and Patricia decided to eat cookies and chat instead.
George took his bike out to the garden to pick what was ready to be picked. It was a a very productive morning! There were several pods of peas that were plump and ready, and when he rifled through the dense strawberry leaves, he came upon some lovely red berries.
He loaded up his bike and started the ride back.
“George Frog, is that you?”
A sport car roared up and stopped next to George. It was Toad, an old school friend whom George hadn’t missed at all Toad was a handful.
“Good morning, Toad,” George said with a sigh.
“How are you doing?” Toad asked. “How is Amelia?”
“We’re doing well,” George replied.
“Is Amelia still editing those Petunia Jacks books?”
“The author is Patricia Johns.”
“That’s the name.”
“Of course, she is,” George said.
“Is Amelia still the prettiest frog in the room?” Toad asked with a boisterous laugh. “Of course, she would be if she were in the room with you and your ugly mug! Am I right? Ha ha! Am I right?”
George cast Toad an annoyed look. Toad had always harboured a crush on Amelia, and he hadn’t bothered to hide it. Not when George and Amelia were dating. Not when they were engaged. And not even now, it would seem.
“She is always the prettiest frog in the room,” George said. “She’s also expecting our pollywog.”
“She’s pregnant!” Toad let out a low whistle. “My goodness. I should stop by one of these days and catch up with her.” There was a pause. “And you, too, of course, old man!”
George pressed his lips together into a thin, angry line. A mosquito buzzed near Toad’s head, and before George could think better of it, he reached out and smacked it with a hard, solid thwack upside Toad’s head.
Toad blinked. The mosquito dropped to the ground.
“Mosquito,” George said innocently. “Take care, Toad.”
And he peddled on. He felt a little bit bad about that smack, but honestly, Toad had it coming. And from the way Toad roared off his car, George was pretty sure the message had been received.
George wasn’t sure Amelia would understand the manly nuances of this story, so he decided to just say that he’d seen Toad. That would be enough.
I hope you enjoy these stories about my Knitted Newlyweds. I have a lot of fun writing them, and my followers on Facebook have been enjoying them, too! We have a lot of fun over there!
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Happy reading!
❤
Patricia Johns 
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