The Amish Blacksmith (4 page)

Considering that Roseanna's paycheck helped put food on the table, I feared she might bristle at the term “pocket money.” But she just smiled and nodded and said that was a
gut
idea. Priscilla seemed relieved as well, and soon the conversation had moved on to a completely different topic, something about new jars and canning fruit and the need to clean out the pantry before the peaches were ripe.

The meal continued, and the only other time the focus turned back to the guest of honor was at the very end, when one of Ruth's teenage sons asked Priscilla if she'd stayed in touch with any of her old friends here in Lancaster County. He'd been too young back then to realize that the girl hadn't had many—if any—friends when she'd lived here. To most folks, she'd always seemed the odd one out, the girl with the violet eyes who liked to talk to animals.

“I've been gone a little too long for that,” she replied stiffly, and things grew silent around the table once more.

“I'm sure the horses will remember you,” I offered, once again trying to ease an awkward moment. “I mean, the ones that were here back then.”

In response, Priscilla gave me a look I could only describe as curious. “Think so?”

For a moment, it almost felt like the old Priscilla and the old Jake, just talking about horses as usual, as if not a day had passed.

“Of course. You spent enough time with them.”

“
Ya
,” she replied, her expression growing unreadable. “So did you.”

I was trying to think of a response when Amos laughed and told her, “He still does. Jake's our newest blacksmith. He finally has a reason to be darkening my doorstep.”

Priscilla again looked over at me, her eyes appraising but her lips silent.

“
Ya
,” I said with a grin. “Owen and I give a very nice pedicure.”

“Very
nice,” Owen added with a silly expression, and everyone laughed.

Finally, the meal was over and I could make my escape without seeming rude. With thanks to Roseanna for the delicious food and a last nod to Priscilla, I rose and excused myself for the night. Baby Josef smiled at me and gurgled a farewell, and I gave him a soft pat on the head as I walked past.

Stepping outside into the early summer evening, I decided that Priscilla
Kinsinger might be older and prettier now, but she still obviously struggled in social situations. I couldn't imagine why God had led her to come back to Lancaster County, as she'd said, unless it was to have her confront the last vestiges of grief over the loss of her mother. It would be perfectly normal for Priscilla to miss her late parents, but I hoped the past six years had allowed her to find at least some semblance of peace.

After a quick stop at the shed to roll out my courting buggy, I headed for the smaller barn to retrieve Willow. I'd just gotten her all hooked up when Amos appeared, startling me.

“Going out?”

“Nah. I just like to hitch and unhitch my horse to the buggy for fun.”

I expected him to chuckle—he always seemed to enjoy my particular brand of humor—but instead he ignored my response and asked in a serious tone if I had a few minutes to talk. I gave him a nod, my heart sinking as I realized I must have done something he was unhappy about. Was I in for a lecture of some kind? I quickly went through a mental checklist of my evening chores, certain I had completed everything regarding the horses and the shop.

“Now that you've had a little time to catch up with Priscilla,” he said in a soft voice, “I need to ask you a favor.”

“Oh. Okay,” I replied, relief flooding my veins. This wasn't work related after all.

“With her back here,” he continued, removing his hat and running a finger along its brim, “Roseanna and I agree that the most important thing we need to do is to help her reconnect with other people her age. It's… it's urgent, actually.”

“Urgent?” I understood how hard it must be for Priscilla to make friends with people who barely remembered her, but why on earth would something like that be urgent? When he didn't explain, I added, “You know as well as I do that establishing relationships takes time, Amos. Why the hurry?”

He looked down, and even in the gathering darkness I could see he was embarrassed to be talking about this.

“It's rather complicated, and I won't bother you with the details, but according to my sister Lorraine… ” His voice trailed off as he reached up to pat my horse. “Priscilla has been seeing someone… out in Indiana… and he is, uh, eager for her return. Lorraine doesn't know the full situation, but she's afraid he's asked Priscilla to marry him.”

“Why is that a problem?”

Amos sighed. “Well, Lorraine is glad that someone finally showed an interest, of course, and she said he's a good man. But she feels that this particular match might not be in our niece's best interest.”

“Is he not Amish?” I asked, surprised at the thought of Priscilla dating outside of the faith.

“Oh, no, he's Amish,” Amos said. But then he went on to explain that the man was much older and was a widower with eight children, several of whom were nearly as old as Priscilla herself. “I'm sure there are plenty of women who would recognize such an instant family for the blessing that it is,” he added.

“But Priscilla probably isn't one of them,” I finished.

“Priscilla probably isn't one of them,” he echoed, shaking his head.

We shared a smile, both of us imagining the disaster that such a match would bring. Distracted, self-absorbed Priscilla didn't seem suited to the kind of selfless devotion and attention eight motherless kids would need—and deserved.

“In any event, my sister believes Priscilla has come back here in order to explore other options before she gives the fellow an answer. No one else in the family knows about any of this, but when Priscilla spoke at dinner tonight about only staying for the summer, I imagine that's about the longest her fellow was willing to wait for her to give him a yes or no.”

“I see.”

Willow, eager to be away, tossed her mane and nickered. I felt like doing the same. Though my sympathies were with Amos and his predicament, I couldn't imagine what any of this had to do with me. All I knew was that the clock was ticking, Amanda was waiting, and I was eager to be finished with this conversation and out of here.

“Regardless of how long Priscilla sticks around,” Amos went on, “Lorraine, Roseanna, and I have high hopes that she'll meet someone closer to her own age here in Lancaster County, someone more suitable for marriage, a man she can have her own children with. We think she needs to create a new life for herself here.”

“Makes sense,” I told him, wishing he would get to the point. Again, what did any of this have to do with me? Surely Amos wasn't going to ask
me
to court his odd niece.

He cleared his throat. “Rumor has it that you've been seeing a certain young woman.”

“Amanda Shetler,” I replied with a nod. There was no reason not to confirm
what Amos had already been told. In his day, most Amish courted with great discretion, even if word often spread along the grapevine about who was seeing whom. These days, however, couples were far more open about all of that, at least in the less conservative districts.

“Good,” he replied, looking embarrassed for having had to ask. “In that case, what I'd like is for you and Amanda to take Priscilla under your wing.”

I'd heard him, but I still couldn't help but respond as if I hadn't. “What was that?”

“Priscilla needs to get back into the circle of young people in our district. She won't do it on her own. She needs you and Amanda to help her remake those friendships. She won't meet anybody if she hides in the barn for the rest of her days, here or in Indiana. The best thing that can happen is that someone in our district or one of the neighboring districts will take an interest in her, court her, and marry her.”

“But I don't know that I'm— ”

“Just take her along with you to the singings and the games and get-togethers, Jake. Introduce her to people, and then watch out for her to make sure she doesn't just stand in a corner. You're welcome to use my spring wagon whenever you do since there'll be three of you.”

I had no desire to do what Amos was asking of me. I wasn't in my
rumspringa
anymore. Mentally, I had moved beyond the youth group a few years ago when I took my vows of membership. These days, the only reason I attended events at all was for Amanda's sake, because she was still young enough to want to be a part of things. Now I was to bring Priscilla along with us as well? No thank you.

I wanted to tell Amos that he was asking too much of me, but the man had given me a job in his blacksmith shop and a place to live, and I ate with his family at their dinner table almost every day. He had been incredibly good to me. I couldn't say no.

But neither could I see Amanda and me insisting Priscilla come with us to these gatherings if she didn't want to come. And I was fairly certain she wouldn't. Actually, I realized, that might be my out.

“Is Priscilla open to this?”

Amos looked at me as if I were nuts. “Well, I'm not going to ask her if she'd like to tag along with you and Amanda. You must invite her. And be adamant about it. In a nice way, of course.”

Great.

“Oh,” I said.

“Talk to Amanda and have her help you with that. Roseanna and I would do it ourselves if we could, but we can't. The invitation has to come from people Priscilla's own age. I'm sure you can see that.”

“Um… yeah.”

Willow nosed me as if to say we'd been detained long enough, but I was still trying to figure out the ramifications of what was being asked of me—such as how Amanda was going to react and how long we would have to do this—when Amos clapped me on the back.

“We're all set, then. Thanks, Jake. We need to do what we can for Priscilla so that she can have a life of her own. One that's a better fit for… for someone like her.”

“I'll do my best,” I managed to reply.

Then I watched Amos amble back toward the house as if he hadn't just asked for the impossible.

T
HREE

O
ne of the things I liked best about Amanda was that she didn't get all bent out of shape if I said I'd be over at six and it was closer to seven when I got there. She was laid-back and understanding and uncomplicated.

This time, however, was different. This time, I hadn't been held up for a short while by a belligerent horse or too many appointments packed into my schedule or a late-arriving customer. I'd been delayed extensively by a big celebration she'd known nothing about and to which she had not been invited. Sometimes I missed the convenience of having a cell phone, an indulgence I'd surrendered near the end of my
rumspringa
. Had I been able to pull it out and call her, I would have been able to give her a better idea of my timing.

As it was, when I finally got to her home, it was nearly dark outside and I was a good two and a half hours late. Usually, a quick rap at the door brought her right out, ready to go. But this time when I knocked, she simply appeared at the other side of the screen and stood there looking at me.

“Do you have a good reason?” she asked, her voice neutral.

“For being this late? Yes. Amos wanted me to—”

“I don't need to know the details,” she said, cutting me off with a wave of her hand. “I just need to know if I should be mad or not.”

I exhaled slowly. “No, you shouldn't be mad. But I feel bad about it just the same.”

“That's enough for me,” she said, and then she swung open the door.

As I stepped into the mudroom, she actually gave me a smile. I was surprised—and for a moment I assumed she was faking it—but then I recognized the warmth and welcome in her eyes. Her smile was genuine. Even though she required no explanation, I would fill her in later. For now, I was captivated by her demeanor.

“Do you know how rare and refreshing you are?” I whispered as I hung up my hat on a nearby peg.