The Amish Blacksmith

by Mindy Starns Clark

  She turned back to face me, her bottom lip tucked up underneath the top one in thoughtful consternation.

  “We need to talk,” she blurted, the words falling out of her mouth as though they had been poised to be spoken from the second I walked into her house. Maybe even before.

  She pointed to the sofa along the back wall. A colorful quilt was folded across its back. “Maybe we should sit down.”

  We walked over to the couch and took our seats. I couldn’t imagine what she had done or not done that necessitated us to be sitting down. Or what I had done or not done. I waited.

  She inhaled heavily and then resettled herself next to me. “I don’t know how to tell you this, so I’m just going to say it. Jake, I don’t want to court anymore.”

  “You don’t what?” I echoed, unable to fully grasp her announcement.

  “I… I don’t want to court anymore.”

  Was she suggesting we marry? Now? I was still formulating how to say I thought it was much too soon when she continued.

  “I’ve… I’m in love with someone else.”

  For a moment everything around me and in me and on the very planet seemed to freeze in place. I couldn’t believe I had heard her correctly. “What did you say?”

  Tears sprang to her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Jake. We didn’t mean for it to be like this. It just… happened.”

  “We?” I said, numbly.

  “Matthew Zook and me.”

  Was this real? Was she really saying this to me?

  “Matthew Zook,” I echoed.

  “I don’t even know how to explain it. I just… he… I was trying to help him get connected with Priscilla, you know. I was trying to figure out what he liked and what he didn’t like, and the more time I spent with him, the more I found myself drawn to him. And he to me. We didn’t… we didn’t plan it, Jake. I never meant to mislead you. And Matthew, he’s feeling so bad about it, he can’t believe he’s fallen in love with a woman who’s being courted by someone else. But he can’t help it. He loves me. And I love him.”

  Of all the reactions roiling around inside me, the one that rose to the surface first surprised me. “Love?” I said sarcastically, almost derisively. The word sounded ugly on my tongue, and I knew instantly that that word should never sound that way. Ever.

  Not only that, but I could see the hurt in Amanda’s eyes. I deserved a jab of equal callousness, but she just blinked and two tears slid down her cheeks.

  “Yes,” she said, gently. “I love Matthew. And he loves me.”

  Her words stung. I looked away.

  “I’m sorry, Jake. Truly I am, but I know this is for the best for both of us. I don’t love you the way I love him. I’m fond of you. Very fond. And I like you. You’re a good friend. And you’re fun to be with and clever and easy-going. But I don’t love you, not like this. You should be with someone who loves you, Jake. And who you love.”

  She paused then to let that thought slide over me, surely knowing I would realize—just as Priscilla said—that I didn’t love her either. Not the way a man should love the woman he wants to marry.

  As I left the house a few minutes later—because really, what was the purpose of staying?—I couldn’t keep the rest of what Priscilla had said to me from tumbling around in my head. As Willow clopped down the road toward home, for the first time in I don’t know how long I was fully aware of how empty I was inside.

  The girl I thought I was going to marry had just rejected me.

  And I felt nothing.

  THIRTY-ONE

  When I returned to the Kinsinger homestead, twilight was just giving way to evening star shine. The air around me buzzed with the sounds of insects, matching the steady hum of the grinding thoughts in my head. Nothing was making any sense. I had spent the last few months imagining myself married to Amanda, raising children with her, growing old with her. The future had seemed so comfortable and steady, like a well-fitting horseshoe. And now that future had been whisked away. Amanda didn’t love me. She loved someone else.

  I should have felt hurt and anger, and instead I sensed only hollowness.

  My thoughts flew to God, and I found myself muttering a prayer for understanding. I didn’t know what to make of the emptiness I was feeling.

  As I put Willow away for the night, I knew I could no longer ignore outright my promise to Priscilla. Amanda’s rejection of me as her suitor should not have had such a numbing effect on me. I felt only a detached disappointment, and even that seemed as thin as gauze, as if I might wake in the morning and forget I had ever courted Amanda Shetler with an eye to marrying her. And somehow I knew that the person who would be the saddest for me if that were to happen would be Priscilla. Surprisingly, that thought pricked me more than anything.

  I stepped out of the barn and into the yard, noticing that all of the Kinsingers seemed to be gathered at the big house. I could see them through the main room windows as they sat around the dining table. Though the adults were quiet and seemed intent on something, the laughter and happy voices of Mahlon and Beth’s children and Owen and Treva’s little Josef floated out to meet me. I found myself jealous of what the Kinsingers were sharing at that moment because it reminded me of how much Daed and Mamm strove to make a caring home for me and how much they loved each other.

  I had always assumed I would end up with a home and family like theirs. I would have a wife and kids, and I would love them the way my parents loved me. But now I realized what a joke that was. How could I ever begin to match what I had been given as a child? I was nothing like my parents. They loved each other deeply, as deeply as I have ever seen two people love each other. And they loved their children that way too. Fully and to the core of their being. They loved with their whole selves.

  Priscilla was like that.

  Tyler and Rachel were like that.

  And apparently now even Amanda—Amanda!—was like that.

  As it turned out, I was the weird one.

  I was locked up inside, just as Priscilla had said. And I didn’t know why.

  Back at the cottage, smelling only faintly now of the varnish, I made a cup of decaf and took it out on the front step, where I sat and sipped as I gazed into the night sky.

  All I could think was how much I wished Priscilla were here so I could talk to her and ask her what to do. Not about the breakup but about this problem of mine, this emptiness that permeated my being.

  Even as I had that thought, I realized I already knew what she would say—had already said, in fact, among the birch trees beside Blue Rock Creek.

  Something must have happened to you that made you afraid to give your heart fully. You have to figure out what that was.

  She was right. I wasn’t just a guy whose feelings only ran so deep because that was the way God had made him. I was a guy who had been taught—somehow, somewhere, by someone or something—that the only way I would be safe in this life would be to build a wall around my heart.

  It was time for that wall to come down.

  Sitting on the porch, a mug cradled in my hands, my elbows on my knees, I looked out across the edge of the property to the dirt path that would take me to the birch trees if I just kept following it. It was time to learn the truth. It was time to go on a search of my past. But what if I really couldn’t handle what I found? The answer came to me like the rustle of leaves on a black gum tree.

  I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.

  With a deep sigh, I bowed my head and closed my eyes, and then I began to pray.

  A good while later, once I was done praying, I went back inside the cottage. It was a bit earlier than usual, but I got ready for bed anyway, hoping sleep would come quickly. I had no idea feeling so little could be so exhausting.

  I slept in spurts and fits. In the morning, though, I awoke acutely aware that God had heard my prayer from the previous evening. It was a strange feeling, new to me perhaps because I had never before been so conscious of my need. I dressed for my chores, expectan
t and a little apprehensive. I prayed for God’s favor and grace because I knew that when He begins a work of transformation, sometimes the process can be daunting.

  I started my day with pen and paper.

  Dear Priscilla,

  I hope you don’t mind that I’m writing so often. I know you will write back once you have a chance. It’s early morning, and I can already tell it’s going to be a warm day.

  Not for the first time, I was thinking how much we learn from horses. Race with the wind. Make peace with your herd. Give all you have and then give some more.

  But some of us learn the wrong lessons too. Cover your flank. Watch for danger. Always run away when you can.

  I just thought you would want to know I’m not running anymore.

  Sincerely,

  Jake

  I started in on my chores and was just about finished with Big Sam when Amos came into the barn. The sun was peeking through a layer of morning clouds. It was going to be hot today. I was already perspiring.

  “Guder Mariye, Amos.”

  He nodded and returned my greeting, but his expression was pensive.

  “Something up?”

  “Ya. I guess you could say that. Why don’t you come over to the house for breakfast when you’re done so we can talk.”

  Something was very wrong. My thoughts flew immediately to Priscilla. “Is everything okay? Is anyone hurt?”

  He shook his head. “No. No, nothing like that.”

  “Did I make a mistake?” I asked, though I was sure I hadn’t.

  Again he shook his head. “You’ve done nothing wrong, son. Just come up to the house when you’re done.”

  He turned from me, and I could tell his heart was heavy.

  I quickened my pace, curious and yet hesitant regarding what Amos had to say. I gave Big Sam his breakfast and then headed for the main house.

  Roseanna had made baked blueberry French toast, and the kitchen was rich with the scents of vanilla, cinnamon, and berries when I stepped inside. She greeted me warmly, but her eyes, like Amos’s, were sad. She slid a large portion of French toast onto my plate, with a side of melon slices and sausage patties.

  “This looks really good,” I said to her as she sat down with us with a smaller serving for herself. She smiled and said thank you.

  Amos led us in silent prayer, and then we began to eat, the clink of forks on plates the only sound. Why were they being so quiet?

  “Anyone else joining us?” I asked nervously, looking from one to the other.

  Amos wiped his mouth with his napkin and then took a gulp from his coffee cup. “Not yet. I wanted to tell you this alone. I think you deserve that.”

  A knob of cold dread immediately formed in my stomach. I put my fork down. “Are you letting me go?” I said, a half laugh making my voice crack a bit.

  Amos rubbed his beard with his hand and sighed heavily. “It’s not because I want to.”

  The knob grew into a thudding boulder. I was losing my job. I waited for him to tell me why.

  “Like I told you in the barn, you’ve done nothing wrong, Jake. You’re a good blacksmith and I’ve been very pleased with your work. It has nothing to do with that.”

  “What is it then?” I said, still in shock.

  “As you know, it was always my intention that your apprenticeship would lead to your replacing Owen when he and Treva moved over to her father’s place so that he could take on the dairy operation there.”

  “Ya. That’s been the plan.”

  “Except I’m sorry to say it’s not going to happen now. Treva’s father decided to sell his herd and machinery. The dairy’s been losing money for the past few years, and he won’t have Owen taking on a business that can’t support a family. It’s a tough time to be a dairy farmer.”

  “But Owen might be able to—”

  “It’s done. He’s sold it. It doesn’t matter what Owen might have been able to do. Owen’s not leaving here, Jake.”

  I had to think for a minute. “Okay, so he’s not leaving. You still have more than enough shoeing for two people.”

  As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized what Amos was going to say. He shook his head, explaining that the welding business wasn’t bringing in enough income to justify two workers.

  “We’ve been operating with a deficit since May, and it’s not getting any better. So now that we know Owen will be sticking around, we’ve decided to move Mahlon back over to the farrier side of things. The two of them will handle shoeing the horses, and I’ll take care of the welding—what there is of it, anyway.”

  I nodded. I understood. But I didn’t have to like it.

  “I wish I had another job for you here, but I don’t,” Amos added. “And I hate to make things worse, but we’ve decided that Treva and Roseanna are going to start the guest cottage back up again too. It was a good source of income when Sharon had it. If we make these changes, we should be able to keep everybody in the family earning a livable income and Treva’s daed’s decision to sell won’t affect us too badly.”

  “The guest cottage,” I said numbly.

  “We’re so sorry, Jake,” Roseanna murmured. “I know you were doing a fine job of fixing it up too.”

  “But… but I’m not even close to finished,” I stammered.

  “You’ve worked hard while you lived here,” Amos said, “and you’ve certainly paid off any rent I would have charged with what you’ve done. But I can’t pay you to continue with it, son. Mahlon and I will take up where you’ve left off. ”

  I looked down at my plate, my breakfast half eaten. The sweetness in my mouth tasted like cardboard now.

  “Your position here always hinged on Owen taking over for his father-in-law,” Amos continued. “We had no idea he would suddenly decide to sell. And I never expected the welding business to slow down like it has. I’m really sorry about this. About all of it.”

  I nodded, wordless.

  “I meant what I said. You’re a fine blacksmith. And I’d be happy to recommend you to any blacksmith you want to work for. As far as I’m concerned, your apprenticeship is complete. You know what you’re doing, and you’re good at it.”

  Your apprenticeship is complete. I had longed to hear those words, but not this way. Not like this.

  “Danke. I appreciate that.”

  “Owen and Mahlon feel bad about this. Especially Owen.”

  No wonder Owen had been quiet lately. His planned-for future had been falling apart just as mine now was.

  The three of us were quiet for a few moments.

  “When do you want me gone?” I asked.

  Roseanna reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “We don’t want this at all.”

  I nodded.

  “We’ve been putting it off as long as we could, trying to think of another way,” Amos answered.

  “So the sooner, the better.” I rose from the table, and Amos and Roseanna looked up at me. I could see how hard this had been for them.

  “We’re so sorry,” Roseanna said.

  “Don’t you worry. I’ll be all right. God provides.”

  I pushed in my chair and thanked them for breakfast. Amos stood and shook my hand.

  “You’re a good man, Jake.”

  As I turned to leave them, I wondered what made me good. I didn’t feel good. I had nothing now.

  I was as empty outside as I felt inside.

  I stepped back out into the warm, humid air of the early August morning. “God, what are You doing?” I whispered.

  As I headed for the cottage to pack my few things, I sensed Him whispering back to me.

  Answering your prayer, Jake.

  I stopped dead in my tracks.

  Last night I’d asked God to show me what I needed to do to free my heart from the fortress I’d built around it. With no job and no place to live and no girl to court, I had nowhere else to go but back home to Daed and Mamm.

  Back where the answers likely waited.

  Back where
I began.

  THIRTY-TWO

  My parents welcomed me home with open arms, as I knew they would. They understood my disappointment, but they could also sympathize with Amos and Roseanna. My room upstairs in their home was as I had left it before I went to Missouri for farrier school, and it was mine again now for as long as I wanted or needed it.

  Daed also offered me a position back in the buggy shop, even though I knew he had given my spot to one of my cousins and I’d just be in the way. I told him thanks but that I wanted to keep doing what I was doing. I’d never been more satisfied with my day-to-day work than I had been as a full-time blacksmith.

  Dear Priscilla,

  I wanted to let you know, when you get a chance to write back, that you shouldn’t use the address at Amos and Roseanna’s. They may have already told you, but I’m no longer working or living there. Use my new address (well, my old address too) that’s on this envelope.

  I’m not thrilled about it, but, like a horse, I must be willing to go wherever my Master takes me.

  Sincerely,

  Jake

  P.S. Willow seems a lot happier to be back home than I am.

  I told my parents the news about Amanda and me that first night, at supper. Neither seemed surprised. In fact, their reaction came across as relief.

  “You didn’t like her?” I said, laughing a bit to ease the tension.

  “Oh, we liked her very much,” Mamm replied. “But you and she… I don’t know. It wasn’t the right match. I was worried—and your daed too—that you would want to propose too soon. And that in the end you’d both be unhappy.”

  “But why?” I pressed. “I thought we were just right for each other.”

  “Tyler said it best after the family picnic,” Daed interjected. “He said the two of you were like oil and oil.”

  I frowned. “As opposed to what? Oil and water? Oil and vinegar?”

  Daed shook his head. “He was talking about lamp oil. To burn a lamp, you need oil and you need a wick. Two different things that combine to make a flame. You and Amanda weren’t oil and a wick. You were just oil and oil. No wick. No flame.”

  Mamm took it from there. “He was saying that similarities are good in a couple, but only if they allow you to bring out the best in each other. When it goes the other direction, when they reinforce the worst of who you are, then that person isn’t good for you the way they should be—even if they are a good person. Do you see what we mean?”