The Amish Blacksmith (21 page)

“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 Considering the effort she'd put forth earlier, how could I complain now just because she'd withdrawn from the crowd for a bit?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 moment. “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?”

I shook my head, completely at a loss. When had this suddenly become about me? “No, I just—”

She turned away and resumed walking toward the happy sounds ahead of us.

“Yeah,” she said. “That's what I thought.”

T
HIRTEEN

P
riscilla found a way to quietly blend in with the crowd when she and I returned from our strange conversation at the pasture rail, planting herself within a clutch of younger teens who welcomed her into their conversation. I rejoined Amanda and her little gang, which at the moment included Matthew. I had no doubt that in Amanda's mind tonight had not been a matchmaking failure so much as step one in a multiphase matchmaking plan. When she set her sights on something, she could be incredibly tenacious. From what I could tell, she'd decided to throw in the towel for now, but that didn't mean her little scheme was over. Far from it. In fact, I had a feeling it had barely begun.

That's why I decided it might be a good idea for me to try and get to know Matthew a little bit better myself. Amanda was a good judge of character, but it never hurt to get another perspective. Besides, it was going to take a very special sort of person to break through the walls Priscilla had erected. I might as well see if Matthew had what it took—or if I should advise my girlfriend to throw this particular fish back into the pond and rebait the hook.

Unfortunately, I didn't make much progress in my quest. Being rather shy, Matthew wasn't the easiest guy to get to know even under the best of circumstances. But tonight was noisy and chaotic with numerous interruptions,
so after a few minutes of asking about his family's feed and tack store, and talking about the weather, I finally gave up. I was feeling too distracted now anyway.

I spent the rest of the evening hovering near Amanda but thinking about Priscilla. I just couldn't understand how she had come to such an odd conclusion about me, that I didn't allow myself to feel things very deeply.