The Amish Blacksmith (33 page)

The calm in the cab and in my chest disappeared in an instant. “What was that?” I asked, more to buy myself a second or two of time. I had heard what she said. I was just wholly unprepared for it.

“The other night when Amanda came to tell me about the party. You were saying goodbye to her, and I had come out to fill the bird feeder. I heard what she said about Uncle Amos.”

“Look, Priscilla. We were just trying to help,” I said, hoping against hope this unplanned-for conversation wasn't going to ruin the party after all Amanda had done to prepare for it.

“I just want to know what she meant.”

Priscilla didn't seem angry. Or hurt. Or disappointed. I couldn't put my finger on how she sounded. And that worried me a little.

“I think I have a right to know,” she added when I said nothing.

I sighed heavily. “He asked us to help you reconnect with the young people in the area. That's all,” I said, still trying to come up with the best answer. “Your aunt and uncle are hoping you will stay here.” I thought hearing that would make her feel good, make her feel that she was wanted. Because it was the truth. Amos and Roseanna did want Priscilla to stay in Lancaster County. “They think if you make some friends, maybe even find a husband… ” My voice trailed off as I looked toward her.

She didn't respond, so I added, “I don't know if what they did was right, but I do know they did it out of love. For you.”

She nodded, taking that in. “So that's why you've been nice to me?” she said, looking out at the passing landscape, not at me. “Because Uncle Amos asked you to?”

“What? No! I wanted… Amanda and I both want very much to help make your transition back to Lancaster County as welcoming as we can.”

She laughed lightly. “You and she both very much want it,” she echoed, looking chagrined.

“Yes,” I assured her, hoping I sounded sincere. Because I was. “Very much.”

She glanced over at me, her gaze just visible past the pearly white edge of her
kapp.
A veiled admission—or accusation—was in her eyes, I couldn't quite tell which. Finally, she turned away again.

“Priscilla—” I began, wanting to make sure she knew Amos and Amanda and I had only her best interests at heart.

“It's all right, Jake. I'm not angry.”

“Okay, but you don't seem too happy about it, either.” I looked over at her. Her expression was impossible to read in the fading light.

She said nothing for a moment. “I guess I'm glad you told me the truth.”

“So we're okay?” I said, still trying to get a read on her mood. We were just a half mile away from the party and all of Amanda's many preparations.

She cracked a smile. “Don't worry. I won't spoil the party. I will try to have a good time. I will try to be nice to Matthew.”

“Amanda thinks you and he would make a great couple,” I ventured, glad we were getting back to casual conversation.

“So I've gathered.”

I wanted to add that he was quite a bit better husband material than a man twice her age with eight kids, but I didn't want to mess with the sense of calmness Priscilla had created for herself and tonight's big event.

A few minutes later we arrived at the Zook place, and I was happy to see so many buggies and carts already there. The same sight, however, seemed to ruffle Priscilla a little bit.

I held my tongue, allowing her a few minutes of silence to process everything as we pulled to a stop and climbed down from the buggy. I unhitched Willow and led her through the gate to the pasture, where she gladly joined the other horses.

“Don't worry,” I said as I hooked the latch and Priscilla and I set off toward the house. “It's a Friday night and there's a party. You don't have to try to impress anybody.”

“Except Matthew.”

I smiled. “Not even him. Just be yourself, Priscilla.”

She smiled in return. “Surely you're not serious, Jake. If I did that, I would be out in the pasture with all the horses in ten seconds flat.”

It was good to be laughing about this as we made our way into the house. Amanda was on us in a second, taking Priscilla's arm and flashing me a grateful grin. I'd somehow managed to bring in a laughing Priscilla to the party. I was Amanda's hero. Priscilla was now instantly the center of attention, which I knew had to be hard for her.

There was nothing for me to do then except fade to the background, eat cake and little ham sandwiches, and let Amanda and her cohorts execute their plan. I watched from a corner as a while later Amanda sidled up to Matthew with Priscilla in tow. I continued to watch as tall, shy Matthew attempted to make small talk with Priscilla. Amanda stayed with them and kept interjecting to keep the conversation going. Several times he looked over to Amanda in obvious gratitude for not leaving him to his own meager devices.

As I watched without trying to be obvious about it, I was happy to see that Amanda was not wearing even a hint of mascara—though I knew that could have been because this was a multigenerational gathering. Either way, something about her seemed different tonight. More
Amish
, for lack of a better word.

Her selfless attentiveness to Matthew and Priscilla was also endearing. I had never seen her quite so… compassionately involved with anyone before. It was a pleasant surprise.

What I liked best about the party was that it wasn't yet another youth event. I was so tired of those gatherings that it was a relief to be with other people my own age and older. Occasionally, Amanda would come my way
to tell me how wonderful everything was going, but otherwise I spent time tossing horseshoes in the backyard with a group of older men, talking horses with a family that was expanding their stables, and eating some of the most delicious food I'd had in ages, going back for seconds and thirds.

As far as I was concerned, the party was a success. Everyone seemed to be having a good time. Even Priscilla, who wasn't a fan of crowds, seemed to find little pockets of people throughout the evening where she could have conversations that were more intimate and more to her liking. I caught her looking for assurance from me a couple times, and I was happy to give it. The only drawback was that she didn't spend as much time with Matthew as Amanda had hoped for. I was glad I had told Amanda a few days ago to let those two take it slow.

When the party ended, I was more than ready to head for home. And I could tell Priscilla was too. I knew Amanda had driven here in her own cart and wouldn't need a ride home, but she didn't seem close to leaving when we were. I offered to stick around, but she wouldn't hear of Priscilla and me hanging back to help clean up when the party had been in Priscilla's honor.

“Besides,” she whispered to me, “I need to see how things went.”

“How things went?”

“With Matthew and Priscilla. You do the same.” And then with a wink she was off to her post-party activities.

But Priscilla wasn't talkative on the way home. The evening had exhausted her the way crowds will do to folks like her. When I asked her if she had a good time, she merely said that she was grateful for all the effort Amanda went to putting the party on for her.

“Does that mean you
did
have a good time?” I asked with a laugh.

“It means I'm grateful,” she said tiredly.

Despite Amanda's orders, Priscilla and I would not be talking about how things went with Matthew, which was totally fine with me.

T
WENTY
-T
HREE

N
atasha arrived in the morning, her truck and trailer crunching on gravel as she pulled up the drive. I was expecting to greet the same skeptical woman I'd spoken to on the phone the day before, but the Natasha who jumped out of this vehicle seemed like what might be called, for lack of a better word, a true convert. Smiling ear to ear, eyes aglow, she barely said hello before launching in about all the reading she'd done online.

“I had no idea separation anxiety was such a common problem for horses,” she enthused. “Usually, it's because they miss other horses, but it can also be for humans and other kinds of animals too.”

“This was a new one for me as well. In fact, I might not even have figured it out if not for someone else.” Gesturing toward the house, I explained that the Kinsingers' niece was visiting from Indiana for the summer, and that she was the one who first suggested that January was more sad rather than scared. “Once she told me that, I was able to think things through from a different perspective. It took a while, but thanks to Stephen and his dog and Wednesday night's storm, it all came together in the end. I can't wait to show you the difference in your horse.”

Because it was a Saturday, Stephen would be around. I'd asked him to
listen for Natasha's arrival because I would need him—and Comet—once she arrived. Now, as she and I walked toward the stable, boy and dog emerged from the side of the house and headed our way.

Natasha gave him a warm hello. “I understand you were a big help to my horse.”

He smiled shyly, otherwise ignoring the compliment. “Where are Hope and Samantha?”

As the three of us plus the dog continued on toward the barn, Natasha explained that Hope was at her gymnastics class and Samantha at her first riding lesson. “Hope loves gymnastics, and Samantha was thrilled to start her lessons, but when they found out where I was going this morning, they both wanted to ditch all that and come here instead.” She laughed. “I don't know who they wanted to see more, Stephen. You or your dog.”

I smiled. “Speaking of dogs—”

“Yes, I spoke to January's previous owner, and he confirmed that his stable master, who lives on-site, does have a dog. After we talked, he checked with the guy and then called me back again to give me a little more info, which I thought was nice of him.”

We entered the barn and crossed to the smaller stable area where January was housed.

“Apparently, the dog has been a constant figure around the stable for a long time, and she was especially fond of January. The man described her as a medium-to-large-sized mutt with long, brownish-gold fur, so I already have my people on the hunt for a nice golden retriever, or maybe a collie, that we can buy. In the meantime, a friend is loaning us her Irish setter, who will be there waiting for us when we get home.”

I had groomed January just a short while before Natasha arrived, so the beautiful animal looked sleek and shiny and majestic when we came to her stall. Making sure that Comet was clearly visible to the horse, I unlatched the door, attached her lead, and walked her out. Handing over the rope to Natasha, I grabbed the big rubber ball and we all returned to the driveway.

Natasha led January out to the middle of the gravel, and then I told Stephen to position himself on the other side of the horse.

“Check this out,” I said to Natasha with a smile. Then, checking to see that the dog was still nearby, I dribbled the ball a few times, raised it up, and tossed it in an arc over January to Stephen, who caught it. The horse didn't bat an eye.

Stephen tossed the ball back to me, and I tucked it under my arm as I
pulled a plastic bag from my right pocket. Moving closer, I crinkled the bag not a foot from January's head. Again, she seemed not to notice one bit.

“I can keep on demonstrating as long as you want,” I said, turning to Natasha, “but I think you can see this problem has been solved.”

I expected a grateful smile in return, but Natasha's eyes were on her horse. As she reached forward to place her hand on January's neck, I could see the relief and joy on her face.

“Good girl, such a good girl,” she cooed to the animal. “I think it's going to be smooth sailing for you from now on.”