The Amish Blacksmith

by Mindy Starns Clark

Amanda’s eyes widened. “It wasn’t like that, Jake, not at all. There was something Katy and I needed to go and do, and we tried to get Priscilla to go with us, but she wasn’t interested.”

  “Then maybe you shouldn’t have gone right then. Couldn’t you have waited for me first?”

  She shook her head. “I didn’t need to. I introduced Priscilla to Yvonne, who gave her a job helping with the table. I figured that would occupy her until we got back. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

  When I didn’t respond, she added, “Why? Did she seem upset when you got to her?”

  I considered the question for a moment and then shook my head. Now that I thought about it, mostly she’d just seemed busy—until I stood there talking to her and got her all worked up.

  For the millionth time, I was reminded that the word that most aptly fit my pretty, green-eyed, easy-going girlfriend was “uncomplicated.” Amanda was the most even-tempered woman I’d ever known. That was one of the things I liked best about her, and here I was making a big deal out of something small. I knew I should apologize to her, but the truth was she didn’t even seem offended. She almost never got offended.

  I gave her an apologetic smile anyway, discreetly pressing my shoulder against hers. “So what was it that you and Katy had to go and do?”

  “Can’t you tell?” She leaned toward me, and I caught a whiff of fragrance, spicy-sweet. I could also see now that her eyelashes were darker, fuller, and curling delicately toward her eyebrows.

  I blinked, startled. “Perfume? And mascara?”

  She smiled as she blushed. “Keep your voice down! It’s only a little. And it’s just for fun. When I take my vows I won’t be able to do stuff like this anymore.”

  This wasn’t the first time Amanda had done something outside the Ordnung for enjoyment. After all, she was still in her rumspringa. But the fact that she sometimes did such things even now that we were courting surprised me. If she was serious about our relationship, her perfume and mascara days were going to have to come to an end soon.

  I decided not to go into any of that for now, as this wasn’t the time or place. I just told her she should probably get back over to the group before they ran out of things to talk about.

  We walked there together, and as we got closer, I was surprised and pleased to see that it wasn’t just Priscilla and Katy and Cheryl any more. Their little cluster of friends had now more than doubled in size—and Priscilla was right there in the thick of things.

  Amanda flashed me a huge victory smile and then dashed ahead to join in the fun. I held back, standing and observing as the group continued to grow. Amanda once again took charge of the introductions, as more and more people began to realize that their old classmate was now in their midst. Watching, I caught Priscilla’s eye once, but then others got in the way so that I could no longer see her.

  Good.

  Great, actually.

  Priscilla was making friends. Amanda was enjoying herself. The volleyball teams still needed people.

  I headed for the nets.

  TWELVE

  By the time I had played a couple of matches—my team lost the first and won the second—I was hot and sweaty and ready for a break. Not only that, but other people wanted to play, and Amanda, who had come to cheer me on in the last half of the second match, was letting me know she was hungry. I retrieved my hat from her and then we headed for the refreshment table.

  “How’s Priscilla getting along?” I asked.

  “I haven’t seen her since I came to watch you play. But I’ll have you know when I left her she was talking to Matthew Zook.” Amanda flashed me a knowing look and a dazzling smile.

  “Oh, really.”

  “Yes, really. I told you they were perfect for each other.”

  I laughed. “So you did.”

  We had reached the food table, which had been grazed over multiple times. There wasn’t a whole lot left. I grabbed a couple brownies and a little paper bowl of caramel corn, and Amanda reached for two tall cups of lemonade. I was still heated up from the game, so I guided her away from the press of people to a more open spot. She handed me my cup, and I guzzled half of it in one swig.

  “How did she seem when you left her?” I asked, picking up the conversation again.

  Amanda took a sip from her cup and held out her hand for a brownie. “She seemed fine.”

  “And how exactly did you get her to go over and meet him?”

  “Oh, that was easy. She wasn’t real keen on the idea, so we just switched it around. I left Priscilla with Katy and Cheryl, and I went and got Matthew instead. I told him there was someone I wanted him to meet.”

  Leave it to Amanda to get her way somehow. “Clever. And he just came?”

  “I had to talk him into it. At first when he realized I was trying to connect him with a girl, he just said no thanks in the most absolute cutest way ever. I’ve never seen a man blush so fast.”

  I laughed, imagining the tall, curly-headed scarecrow turning red down to his boots. “How did you convince him?”

  “I told him he’d be glad he came, that his life was about to change, that kind of thing.”

  “His life was about to change?” I exclaimed, laughing louder.

  “When you meet the person you’re going to marry, your life changes,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “So he went with you.”

  “After a couple more tugs he did.”

  “And?”

  She grinned at me. “Look how curious you are now.”

  “Okay, so I had my doubts. Tell me what happened.”

  Amanda took a sip of her lemonade. “He went with me to where I’d left Priscilla with Katy and Cheryl, I introduced them to each other, and then we three girls just kind of one-by-one edged away.”

  “And the two of them were talking to each other when the last of you left?” I was having a hard time picturing it.

  “Yes, they were. She was telling him about some apple orchard in Indiana.”

  I offered popcorn to Amanda and started in on it myself. I was about to admit to her that she’d proven me wrong when I saw Matthew walk past us toward a group of Amish men standing by the bonfire, which was now fully ablaze even though the sun had not yet set.

  “When was it that you left Priscilla and Matthew together?” I asked.

  “Just before I came to watch you play,” she answered, taking a bite of her brownie. “Twenty minutes ago or so. Why?”

  I nodded toward Matthew’s retreating form. “Because there he is and she’s not with him.”

  Amanda whipped her head around, a look of surprise and disappointment on her face as she swallowed the bite in her mouth. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! Do I have to do everything myself?” She thrust her half-drunk cup of lemonade toward me and then huffed off to catch him before he reached his male friends.

  I didn’t want to be any part of her relentless matchmaking. I finished off the last of the popcorn, tossed the empty bowl and the cups into a nearby trash can, and set off to look for Priscilla. I didn’t see her at first, and for a brief moment I wondered if she had taken off on foot for the three-mile walk home. But then it struck me where she might be. I headed out back for the long line of Amish buggies and carts—and the pasture that stretched behind them. Sure enough, I found her there, at the fence, with Willow on the other side. Priscilla was feeding my horse tufts of grass as she talked to her in a soft voice.

  “Of course,” I called to her. “I should have known I would find you back here.”

  She didn’t turn toward me, nor did she reply. Instead, she stayed exactly where she was, her posture unchanged, her attention focused solely on my horse.

  I tried again as I got closer. “Hey, Priscilla. What’s up?”

  Again, she did not acknowledge me nor even seem to notice my presence, so I kept moving forward until I came to a stop just a few feet behind her.

  “I know you can hear me, Kinsinger,” I said, crossing my arms in front of my ches
t.

  “Yes, but I’m choosing not to, Miller,” she replied, holding out another tuft of grass to Willow.

  I smiled, the desire to fuss at her for hiding back here by herself quickly fizzling out. Considering the effort she’d put forth earlier, how could I complain now just because she’d withdrawn from the crowd for a bit? Some people simply needed more alone time—or, in Priscilla’s case, more alone-with-a-horse time—than others.

  But I had to say something. Finally, my tone light, I asked if there was some reason she found it necessary to trade in all the other party guests for a rendezvous with a mare. “Why don’t you come back with me? We’ll rejoin everyone.”

  “No, thanks. I mean, I gave it a shot, Jake, I really did. But if I had to spend one more minute making nice with all of those people, I was going to scream.”

  “I guess I can understand,” I said, wanting to add that I was proud of the effort she had made but not sure how she would take a comment like that. “It’s a lot of people all at once. I think you’re doing great.”

  She seemed to linger a second over my words, as though she wanted to hold onto them. “Well, I told you I would try,” she said a moment later. “So I did.”

  We were both quiet, the sounds of the party muffled by the row of buggies behind us.

  Leaning forward, I propped my elbows on the fence and placed one foot on the lower rail. “So how come I’m not allowed to go near your horse, but you can use mine as your own personal party date?”

  She smiled, though I couldn’t quite tell if it was meant for me or for Willow. “It’s not my fault your horse is a far better conversationalist than anyone I’ve met at this party thus far.”

  “I thought you told me animals can’t talk.”

  “Exactly.”

  I chuckled. It seemed to me that that little forced bit of interaction had actually been good for her. Her sense of humor was encouraging. But as the evening still had a ways to go, it was probably time for her to come back to the party.

  “I hear what you’re saying, Priscilla, and I don’t doubt you needed a break. But people are asking for you, wondering where you are.”

  “No, they’re not. Don’t exaggerate.”

  “Yes, they are. Amanda has Matthew by the arm, and she’s on an all-out hunt to track you down.”

  “Ha. Okay. So maybe one or two people at most.” Reaching down for more grass, she added, “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m fine here.”

  I watched her for a long moment, thinking how much more relaxed her posture was now, alone, than it had been while amid the throng. Regardless, there was another reason she needed to force herself to mingle. After a moment’s hesitation, I decided to spell it out for her, even though I knew it may end up sounding cruel.

  “I’m just thinking,” I said, clearing my throat before I continued, “after your efforts to be friendly and approachable earlier, do you really want to cancel all that out now by being the girl who slipped away from the people at the party to talk to the animals instead?”

  As I feared, my question seemed to strike a nerve. She glanced at me, her body stiffening, the smile fading from her lips and her eyes.

  “I am who I am, Jake. Don’t try to change me.”

  “I’m not trying to change you.”

  “Then why would you say something like that?”

  I felt bad for hurting her feelings, but I needed to be honest with her. “Because of what you told me yesterday evening in the barn. You said you were tired of people pointing their fingers at you and reminding you how peculiar you are. If you really meant that, then you would try to be a little more careful when you’re out in public. That’s all.”

  She didn’t reply, so I kept going.

  “You make it too easy, Priscilla. By hanging out back here—by gravitating to the animals rather than the people yet again—it’s almost as though you’re daring everyone to do just that, to call you peculiar. Point their fingers. Assume you haven’t changed one bit and you’re still that odd little girl who used to talk to horses. I just don’t get why it’s worth it to you.”

  As my voice fell silent, I realized I probably sounded as though I had all the answers. Plus, I wasn’t sure why it mattered so much to me anyway. Why did I care what people thought about Priscilla Kinsinger?

  Judging by Willow’s behavior, she hadn’t liked my over-the-top paternal tone with Priscilla either. Jerking her head back, she snorted as if to say, “Cool it.”

  “Why don’t we just go back to the party?” I said.

  “No, thanks.” Priscilla reached up to pat Willow, and the horse nuzzled her neck.

  “Really. Come on. I promise I won’t abandon you for any more volleyball.”

  She turned toward me, her expression questioning. “Abandon me?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah. Like earlier. I probably shouldn’t have left you and gone off to play like that.”

  “Why shouldn’t you have? You’re not responsible for me. Do you think you are?”

  “What? No. No!” I stammered. “I mean, I just wish I hadn’t rushed off like that.”

  She turned back to Willow and stroked the mare’s long head. “I’m capable of taking care of myself, Jake.”

  “And that’s why you’re hiding back here with the horses?” I said, trading her little jab for one of my own and regretting it instantly.

  “I happen to like being with the horses,” she said, unfazed. “They don’t have expectations of me. No preconceived notions of who I am.”

  So it was back to the poor-me routine. “That’s because they are horses.”

  Priscilla nodded toward the party taking place behind us. “Go on, Jake. I won’t take my uncle’s buggy and leave you stranded here if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “That’s not what I’m worried about. Just pull it together for a little bit longer. Come back to the party with me.”

  “No.”

  Amos was going to want to know how the evening went. I needed to have a better story to tell him than this.

  “Come on, Priscilla. Please?”

  “I’m fine where I am. And why do you care so much whether I come back to the party or not? You barely know me.”

  Her words were another jab to my gut. Sure, we weren’t exactly lifelong chums, but we’d been buddies, in a sense, way back when. If not buddies, kindred spirits at least. We’d also interacted a fair amount since she’d arrived Friday afternoon. What else had that been about except getting reacquainted?

  “Fair enough,” I said finally, trying to keep my voice light. “Maybe I don’t know you, but in a way it feels like I do, I guess because of when you lived here before. I mean, I always enjoyed talking to you, even if you were younger. I thought you were a neat kid.”

  “Neat,” she echoed.

  “Ya. Smart. Funny. Quirky. Really in tune with the animals. I got a kick out of you. Now that you’re back, I’ve been hoping we could become friends again.”

  Her eyes met mine and she held my gaze. “Why?”

  “Because… ” I did not want to lie to her. I did not want to lie to myself. It wasn’t just because Amos asked me to help her out.

  The truth was, I wanted to be her friend because I knew she was a person worth getting to know.

  And there was more to it than that. It saddened me so much to see the way she was letting her life slip by her. Hiding from others. Isolating herself. More than likely still clinging to her grief.

  “I just hate to see you so burdened,” I said finally.

  That caught her attention. “Burdened? By what?”

  “You tell me. Grief? Loss? Guilt? I know what you went through…back then…was horrific, more than a lot of people could bear. I can’t even imagine the depths of your pain. But God didn’t design us to be tied to those kinds of feelings forever. If we are living in His will, then we surrender the right to wallow in our misery or blame ourselves or refuse to move on. That’s all I’m saying.”

  She stared at me for a long mom
ent. “You know what, Jake? You don’t want to befriend me. You want to fix me. Just like you fix horses.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe I want both. Is that so bad? I have a lot to offer, and you could use a friend—especially one like me, who could help you learn not to get so worked up about everything.”

  She locked her gaze on mine, and I could see a flash of anger in her eyes.

  “You know what I’m trying to say,” I added, hoping to smooth things over. Why did my conversations with her always turn out like this? “You just get so, uh, emotional sometimes.”

  She barked out a laugh. “At least I feel something. I’m beginning to wonder if you, on the other hand, ever let yourself feel anything truly deep.”

  A moment of stunned silence passed before I spoke. “Pardon me?”

  “You’re one of those people with just one long, even keel, sailing through life down the middle in the shallowest water possible, where nothing ever really gets to them at all. I’m right, aren’t I?”

  I was dumbfounded, both at what she was saying and the fact that she was saying it. The fact that I was an easy-going guy was what people always said they liked best about me.

  “At least I feel something,” she continued. “And I’d rather feel too much than nothing at all.”

  She brushed past me and headed for the sea of young people out in the field.

  “Hey!” I took off after her. “You can’t just say that and then walk off.”

  “Why not? Nothing bothers you anyway.”

  She was talking in riddles. “Priscilla, you’re not making any sense.”

  She said nothing as she lengthened her strides to get back to the crowd of people congregating at the bonfire.

  “So now you want to go back to the party?” I said, matching her pace.

  “Isn’t that what you want me to do?”

  Could she be any more incomprehensible? “What I want is for you to tell me what in the world you meant about me being a… what? A boat? A keel? That I don’t care about anything?”

  “Why? Because I hurt your feelings? Because you’re angry with me?” She stopped and looked at me, her eyes narrowing. “Or because you’re afraid I might be right?”