The Amish Blacksmith (35 page)

Because I had the Fourth of July off, as did everyone at my
daed
's buggy shop, my parents decided to have a big family picnic at their place. Priscilla and I didn't have to be at Natasha's until the evening, so I decided to come for the day—and to bring Amanda with me.
Mamm
said that would be fine as it would provide a nice opportunity for the whole family to get to know her.

Amanda was nervous about coming, but any anxiety was quickly eclipsed by her love for parties, get-togethers, and games. I thought she would fit in just fine with all the members of my family, but as the afternoon wore on, I found myself wondering if everyone else was as relaxed and comfortable around Amanda as she seemed to be with them.
Mamm
, who I thought would be the most excited about my courting a beautiful girl, seemed to be contemplative throughout the afternoon. Tyler and Rachel also weren't nearly as enthusiastic about Amanda as I thought they would be, which I found perplexing. Amanda was as easy-going as they come. She laughed at everyone's
jokes, was kind and helpful, cooed at the babies, and seemed for all the world as though her mascara days were long behind her.

I had to leave by five, and the opportunity to ask Tyler or my mother what was up never came. As a happy and chatty Amanda and I drove back home, I wondered if perhaps I had only imagined these things.

I certainly hoped so, anyway.

After all the stress of the day and the long ride to Amanda's and then home, I was tired by the time I had to go to Natasha's. Back at the cottage, I changed into a fresh set of clothes, and then I wearily headed out to the driveway, wishing we could have done this on a different night. But then Priscilla came out of the house to join me, and as soon as I saw the anticipation in her eyes, I could feel myself begin to perk up as well.

I didn't bother kidding myself that her excitement had anything to do with me. She was about to be paid to spend an evening with a bunch of beautiful horses, helping to get them through a difficult situation. That was her idea of bliss. Everything and everyone else was far, far secondary to that.

Ryan showed up right on time, and though I hadn't thought to prepare Priscilla for our driver's eccentricities, he seemed to dial things back a bit once she and I were both inside the truck, much to my relief. He offered us something to drink, so before she could reply, I reached into the console with absolute nonchalance, pulled out a bottle of water, and held it toward her. “Perrier?”

The look she flashed me from the backseat was a mixture of amusement and astonishment. Had we been alone, I would have warned her that it was only to get more bizarre from here.

Once we arrived at Natasha's, I couldn't help but see the place through Priscilla's eyes. Like me the first time I had come here, she seemed to find it beautiful and impressive, but also like me, she did not seem covetous of it. “This world is not my home,” was something Christians often said, but being in a place like this, it felt more like, “And
this
world is
really
not my home.”

I thought we would be ushered right to the stables, but Ryan said Natasha had insisted we come to the party to say hello and hit the buffet first.

“You have about an hour before the fireworks start,” he told us, peering
toward the darkening horizon, “so you guys can just fill up a plate and then head on down to the stables yourselves. That should give you enough time before all the noise to walk around and let the horses hear your voices and get used your scents. You know the drill. You can eat as you work.”

“Sounds good,” I said, but I could see Priscilla instantly stiffening beside me.

“I've already eaten,” she said quickly to Ryan, “so maybe I'll just go on straight to the stables.”

He shook his head. “Sorry, but you and Jake and your success with January are all anyone's talking about. Natasha is eager to meet you in person, Priscilla.”

I shot my companion a consoling glance, but she seemed okay. This was a paying gig, after all, and I guess the worker in her accepted her fate, knowing it was just part of the job.

What was not part of the job, I realized a few minutes later as we were greeted by Natasha and introduced to her guests, was being someone's token Amish, as if we were party favors that could be shown off and passed around. More than once she laughingly referred to us as her “little pair of Amish horse whisperers,” which felt rather offensive to me. At least when I glanced Priscilla's way, I was glad to see that her expression was more bemused than anything else.

Once we were freed to get our food and go, we did so quickly, moving down the line of the buffet, scooping this and that onto our plates without even taking the time to see what it was, and then laying across the top of each a second plate, upside down, just to keep the food warm and debris-free as we walked.

We headed for the stable, waiting until we were inside and alone before we burst out laughing. I apologized to Priscilla for dragging her into this, but she just grinned and said not to worry, that the horses made it all worthwhile.

She was eager to see them, so we set our plates aside and went on a tour. Over the next half hour, she and I slowly moved from stall to stall, greeting each animal, allowing them to get comfortable with us, and familiarizing ourselves with their personalities as much as we could, watching for signs of the more anxious ones. As we neared the end of the long building, we were both especially glad to see January, who seemed happy as a clam, thanks to the beautiful dog lying on the ground asleep, nearby.

I wasn't sure what we'd be in for once the fireworks started, so as the time approached, I suggested we close all the doors and windows to block out as much of the sound from outside as possible. Ordinarily, they would have all been closed anyway, just to keep in the air-conditioning, but this was a cool night, so apparently the breezes had been enough.

In any event, after we were all sealed in, we returned to our party food and began to eat as we waited. I'd never seen Priscilla in such a good mood, and she was even a little silly as we tasted the various items on our plates and ventured guesses as to what they were.

“Pickled Kiwi eggs imported from Australia,” she said in a snobby British accent as she held up a deviled egg before popping it into her mouth.

“Sea squid from the depths of the Indian Ocean,” I replied, biting into a curvy French fry-type item. I'd just been kidding, but I realized too late that whatever it was actually did taste like seafood, so for all I knew, I'd been right.

As we were finishing our meals, I heard a soft sort of booming sound in the distance and realized that the fireworks had begun. Jumping into action, we tossed our paper plates into the trash. Much to our relief, there was hardly a reaction at all. One Appaloosa got a little bit spooky, but we figured that was because she was closest to the door and could hear the noise a little too well. Once we relocated her to a stall farther back in the building and on the other side, she calmed right down.

“Easy-peasy,” I said to Priscilla, holding out both hands, palms upward, with a grin.

The smile she gave me in return rivaled the beauty of all the fireworks in the sky.

Clearing my throat, I turned and began to make another stroll up and down the aisle. Behind me, I could hear Priscilla moving in the opposite direction, toward January. Once I pivoted and headed down that way myself, I was surprised to find her comforting not the horse but the horse's dog. Kneeling on the floor, she had her arms around the beautiful retriever and was cooing softly as she stroked the animal's fur.

“The poor thing was shaking,” she said, glancing up at me with a smile

I just smiled at her in return, but then an image popped into my head: Priscilla as mother, cradling a baby, and cooing just this way. Maybe a house full of instant children would end up being a perfect fit for her. Everyone was always underestimating her, and I decided I would not do the same.

On the other hand, something about the image of her with some other man's children depressed me, so I moved over to the far side of January's stall and busied myself by looking out of the window. Instantly, a burst of red and yellow light exploded in the sky in front of me.

“Come look. You can see them from here.”

Priscilla came toward me, the dog at her heels. She joined me at the window and we stood there, side by side, both of us ooing and aahing at the beauty of the display. From time to time, I tore away my attention from the drama outside to make sure all was well in here. The horses seemed fine. As I turned back to look out of the window again, my chin brushed across the starchy white fabric of Priscilla's
kapp
. Suddenly, I was all too aware—of her proximity, of her beauty, of the very
femaleness
of her. Closing my eyes, I breathed in slowly, taking in the scents of cinnamon and lavender that wafted from her hair.

When I opened my eyes, I realized she had turned toward me, looking as if she, too, had become aware of some hidden longing in this very moment. Our mouths were mere inches apart. She took in a small, quick breath. My heart began to pound.

I don't know who leaned in first. All I know is that as the fireworks lit up the sky just outside, we somehow began to move together inside, slowly closing that small distance between us. It wasn't until our lips were millimeters apart that I managed to come to my senses.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered, jerking my head back, my mind suddenly filled with images of Amanda and some guy named Noah and Indiana and Pennsylvania and all the many, many reasons why this could never ever happen.

“I'd better check on the Appaloosa,” I said, turning and quickly striding away.

Priscilla did not reply at all.

In fact, we barely said two words to each other the rest of the night—not in the stable, not in the pickup, and not even when we got home and climbed out onto the driveway.

Mostly I felt guilty.

Mostly she looked embarrassed.

As Ryan gave a final wave and drove off, I knew I ought to say something,
anything—an apology? An explanation?—but as soon as I opened my mouth to speak, she shook her head and turned toward the house. I decided to hold my tongue, because, really, what was there to say? I didn't understand what had happened.

All I knew was that it couldn't ever happen again.

T
WENTY
-F
IVE

T
he next day was a quiet one, with work to keep me busy and not a single glimpse of Priscilla anywhere. That afternoon, I went looking for Amos up at the house and found Roseanna sitting at the kitchen table, her hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. The sun cast a mellow, almost sympathetic hue around her. A crumpled tissue rested near her elbow, and her eyes were rimmed with glassy, ready-to-fall tears. My first thought was that someone close to the Kinsingers had died. My real reason for coming inside the big house skittered away.

“What is it, Roseanna? What's the matter?”

She startled, picked up the tissue, and dabbed at her nose. “Oh, Jake. I didn't hear you.”

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“I'm fine.” Roseanna smiled sadly. “She's leaving.”

“What? Who's leaving?” But I knew in an instant whom she meant.

“Priscilla. She decided to go back to Indiana.”