Once we were back to the stable, however, we could both see that my theory was wrong. Even when Stephen stood close to January’s stall door and spoke to her in calming tones, she was still in an agitated state. We gave it a good five minutes, thinking maybe she just needed time to calm back down, but if anything she only seemed to grow worse. Finally, I thanked him for coming and told him we were done here.
My shoulders heavy, I put out the lights and Stephen and I headed back into what was now just a drizzle. We walked together part of the way, and then with a solemn good night the boy veered right to go to his house and I headed left toward my cottage. I had only gone a few steps, however, when I froze and turned around.
There on the porch, Stephen had paused to greet his excited dog before going back inside. Comet had been with us in the barn when the storm first started, and January had calmed down about the same time he showed up near her stall. Then, once he and Stephen left, January had grown agitated again. Just now when I came back to get Stephen, it had still been drizzling and Comet had chosen not to come along. Wherever Stephen went, Comet always went too—except when it was raining.
“Hey, Stephen!” I called, just as he was about to head inside. “Mind if I borrow Comet?”
Understanding slowly dawned in the boy’s eyes as I approached, and with a big grin he whistled for his dog and the three of us raced back to the barn. As we stepped inside, we could already hear January’s agitated huffing and snorting, but the moment Stephen led the dog over near her stall, it was as if someone had flipped a switch.
Suddenly, the body of the anxious, twitching, pawing horse grew still. She gave us a look as if to say, “It’s about time you figured it out,” and then she took a big bite of hay and stood there calmly chewing it, as if all was right with the world.
“Well, would you look at that,” Stephen said, turning to flash me a wide grin.
The horse had been missing a dog.
TWENTY-TWO
When I awoke the next morning, I wondered for a long moment if it had been a dream. Somewhere in the night, had my imagination conjured up a horse who was so desperate for some canine companion that she grew agitated and easily spooked in its absence? As I climbed from bed and slowly came more awake in the predawn darkness, that sense of unreality faded, and I knew it had actually happened. I had solved the mystery of January.
Of course, I couldn’t wait to test it out again, just to make sure I’d been right, so over the next hour, not only would I confirm the theory, but I had managed to test January with the ball, the plastic bag, some clanging pots, and more. Each of those items caused her some level of distress when exposed to them alone, but as soon as I brought the dog into the mix, there was almost nothing I could do to disturb her. The horse I’d spent so much time with that first morning, desensitizing her to a rubber ball, was now allowing me to bounce the ball on the ground around her feet and even throw it into the air not far from her head—as long as Comet was in sight.
I’d never seen anything like it, but when I told Amos the story over breakfast, he didn’t seem all that surprised. In fact, he said he’d known of similar pairings—not just horses with dogs but one with a rabbit and another with a turtle.
I couldn’t wait to tell Natasha. My first client at the farrier shop was scheduled for seven, too early to squeeze in a call beforehand. But after that client left, another came, and then another, keeping me so busy that I never got a chance to take a break until lunch.
Natasha sounded skeptical over the phone, but I assured her I knew what I was talking about. We set it up for her to come with the horse trailer on Saturday, and though she still seemed hesitant, she said she would be “googling” this in the meantime.
When I hung up the shop phone, I realized there was someone else I needed to share the news with. And apologize to.
I found Priscilla on the side of the big house, bringing in the family laundry.
“Hey.”
Even though I lived on the premises, I had not talked to her since our argument in the paddock the day before and had barely seen her on the property. When she turned to face me, I wondered if she was still mad at me.
But I saw no traces of lingering indignation, just a quiet melancholy.
“What is it, Jake?” she said, glancing at me once as she turned the crank on the pulley.
“I owe you an apology.”
She paused for a second, midcrank, but then she was back at her task. “An apology? For laughing at me?” She turned the wheel and the next set of work shirts floated her way.
“Yes.”
Priscilla swung around, the laundry line temporarily forgotten.
“You were right about January,” I blurted. “She is sad. She’s missing a dog back at her old place.”
“A dog? How did you figure that out?”
I told Priscilla what had happened in the barn during the previous night’s storm. She listened with growing interest, her blue mood slowly being replaced with delight.
“That’s… that’s great, Jake. I’m really happy for you. And for January.”
She was about to turn back to the laundry line when I took a step closer. “Priscilla, I’m really sorry about what I said at the paddock yesterday. Forgive me?”
She looked down at the clean clothes in the basket at her feet. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. As you have already seen, I say too much when I get mad. And in the wrong way.”
“But you were correct about January.”
“That didn’t give me any right to talk to you that way. I’m sorry too.” She looked up at me, and I could see that her joy at my figuring out January’s dilemma was only matched by her disappointment in herself.
“How about we put the whole thing behind us?” I offered, anxious to get back to the normal routine.
She smiled, and though it wasn’t a wide and easy grin, I could see she agreed.
“Okay, then,” I said as I turned to go.
“See you around?”
“Sure, Jake.”
It was a relief to have that whole business taken care of. I looked back once as I made my way to the cottage. She was again at the laundry line, pulling off clothes and folding them into the basket, a clear sign that all was well between us. And a good thing too. The following evening would be the party, and I knew Amanda expected Priscilla to be in an amiable mood by the time I got her there.
On Friday night at twenty minutes to seven, I left my cottage, freshly showered after working with horses all day long, and headed for the buggy barn. I couldn’t say I was especially looking forward to the party itself, although I was a bit curious to see what chemistry there might be between Priscilla and Matthew. I hadn’t even spoken to Amanda for a few days because she was busy with preparations for the event, and I’d had a full week myself, but I was pretty sure she was still singing Matthew’s praises as the perfect man for Priscilla. I wondered as I hitched Willow to my buggy how hard it was going to be for Matthew to work up the courage to ask Priscilla if he could court her. Just picturing it made me laugh and then frown.
No self-respecting guy—especially someone as shy as Matthew—would ever ask such a risky question in a house full of people. The party was just a means to an end. I was already eager for this event to be history so that Amanda could let the courtship take its course, so that she could focus her attention back on me, and so that Amos would be satisfied that Priscilla had been successfully reintegrated back into the community.
Because Mahlon and Beth already had plans for the evening with her family, they wouldn’t be making it to the party, but Beth sent along her artichoke dip, as well as a box of wheat crackers and instructions on heating the dip once we got there.
That left Amos, Roseanna, Priscilla, Owen, Treva, baby Josef, and me. There was no reason to take three buggies, so we decided that Priscilla could ride with me in my two-seater and Amos would bring everyone else in the family wagon.
Because Amanda wanted Priscilla to be the l
ast to arrive, the others set off to the Zooks’ house around six thirty, bringing all of the food with them.
I had told Priscilla we’d leave at a quarter to seven. I was glad that at exactly six forty-three she appeared on the porch and then walked to the gravel where the buggy waited.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” I said lightly, wanting her know I was aware this was not how she would have liked to spend her Friday night.
She shrugged, politely declined my offer to help her step up into the buggy, and climbed in.
“Looks like it’s going to be a quiet ride,” I murmured to Willow as I strode to the driver’s side and climbed in myself.
We started out on the macadam. Because I was certain Priscilla was no longer mad at me about our argument at the paddock, I decided that maybe she just needed some quiet to prepare herself for an evening of noise and frivolity. I sat back and had just decided I liked the peaceful ride myself when she spoke.
“I’ve been wanting to ask you something.”
“Oh?” I replied, thinking she wanted to know more about the revelation regarding January.
“What did Amanda mean the other night when she said you and she were doing just what Amos asked you to?”
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.
TWENTY-THREE
Natasha 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.”
The Amish Blacksmith Page 22
