The Amish Blacksmith (5 page)

“Do you know how disarming and charming
you
are?” she whispered in return, giving me a wink as she turned to go into the kitchen.

I followed her inside, where I was enveloped by the aroma of something fresh baked and delicious. Glancing around, I spotted Amanda's nine-year-old twin sisters, Nettie and Naomi, at the counter, grinning at me over several trays of what looked like chocolate chip cookies.

“Baking at this hour?” I asked, surprised not to find the kitchen tidied up and closed down for the night.

“I had to do something to pass the time.” Amanda rejoined her sisters at the counter.

“Where's everyone else?” I asked, looking around at the otherwise empty space. At this time of night, her family was usually settled into the living room, reading or chatting or playing games.

“One of the horses is foaling,” Nettie replied solemnly, “so they're all out in the barn.”

“Ah, I see.” Some things on a farm couldn't be set by a clock.

“Just let me finish here and then we can go,” Amanda said, reaching for a spatula.

“It's okay, we can do it,” Nettie told her.

“I don't mind,” Amanda replied, giving her little sister a smile. “I appreciate you guys keeping me company. I'm sure things in the barn would have been a lot more exciting than hanging around in here and helping me bake.”

With movements deft and efficient, she began to scoop up the cookies one by one from the tray and slide them onto a cooling rack nearby. The twins' eyes were on the cookies as she worked, but I couldn't see anything but Amanda. Under her black apron, tonight's dress was maroon, my favorite color on her and the perfect contrast to the curling wisps of her blond hair that had escaped the twisted locks framing her face. Beautiful.

“Do you like them with nuts or without?” Naomi asked, and I glanced her way when I realized she was speaking to me.

“Yes,” I replied, giving her a wink, which made her giggle.

“Which is it?” Nettie, the more forceful of the two, insisted. “With or without?”

“Either way,” I said, stepping closer. “What matters most is the chocolate. Everything else is secondary.”

“Ah, then you want one of these,” Amanda said, turning around and scooping up a cookie from a different cooling rack behind her, and then turning back to hold it out to me. “It's double-double chocolate.”

Though I was nearly full to bursting from Roseanna's big supper, I tried to accept Amanda's offering with enthusiasm. I couldn't imagine eating another thing, but I brought it to my lips just the same and took a quick bite—and then immediately took another.

Watching me, the twins grinned.

“
Gut, ya?
” Naomi said. “Amanda makes the best cookies in the district.”

“Naomi,” Amanda scolded. “Hush. That's prideful.”

“But it's true,” the other twin piped in.

I couldn't agree more. Full or not, this was the best cookie I had ever tasted. Soon I had polished the whole thing off despite myself and was debating whether to have another.

I decided to test the different kinds, which I did while Amanda and her sisters made short work of cleaning the kitchen. Then she grabbed a light sweater, I retrieved my hat, and we all headed outside to the driveway. As the twins ran off to join their parents in the barn, Amanda and I veered toward the buggy. Even on a night like this when the two of us had nowhere to go, a ride would still be nice, simply because it gave us a chance to be alone. Of course, my courting buggy was an open-air vehicle, which didn't exactly afford us much privacy. But at least over the past few months of going out, we'd found some ways to steal a kiss now and then without being seen.

“How are you tonight?” I asked her once we were both settled in and ready to go. At my command, Willow pulled the buggy to the end of the driveway and out onto the road, where she began
clip-clopping
her way into a trot.

“I'm fine,” Amanda replied, letting out a small sigh of satisfaction as our speed picked up and the wind played with the curls around her face.

After that, I was quiet for a moment as I contemplated how to launch into what I needed to say.

“So, apparently word has spread that we're a couple,” I began.

“What do you mean?”

I shrugged, the reins loose in my hand as Willow led the way.

“Amos said something.”

With a laugh, Amanda placed her sweater between us, and then she clasped my hand in hers underneath, where it wouldn't be seen. “It's been almost four months. Of course word has spread.”

“I know. It just… I wasn't sure how you felt about that.”

“About what? That people know we're courting?”

I nodded.

“Are you kidding? You're such a catch, Jake. I'd shout it from the rooftops if I could.”

I laughed and gave her hand a squeeze. “Yeah? You really think I'm a catch?”

“I'm just glad you caught
me
,” she whispered, and it took all the strength I had not to kiss her right there.

Back in my
rumspringa
days, I'd been much more cavalier about my dating habits, usually leaving it to the girl to set the limits of propriety. But once I became a church member, I took that sort of thing much more seriously, and I was always careful not to overstep the bounds of my commitment.

Because Amanda wasn't yet a church member, she lived by far fewer rules than I, and it had made for some awkward situations—like the time she wanted to go to a secret beer bash, or when she surprised me halfway through a dinner date by returning from the restroom wearing
Englisch
clothes. As she came to understand that I wasn't willing to compromise, we managed to work things out, and eventually she began to keep her more
rumspringa
-like activities to herself, for those times when she was with her girlfriends. I wasn't crazy about it, but I certainly understood. She was four years younger than I, after all, and she still had some growing up to do. I felt sure that the longer we courted, the greater an influence I would have over her behaviors. On the other hand, as a church member myself, I knew that our relationship could not advance beyond a certain point until she put all of these ways behind her, made a decision to join the church, and committed to the Amish faith for life.

I sure hoped that was how things would play out anyway, especially on nights like this, when the wind lifted the tendrils that hung loose from her
kapp
and her eyes sparkled brighter than the stars. There was a sense of freedom about Amanda, an ease I hadn't had with many girls in my life, and it wasn't hard to imagine her as a helpmate and a wife.

As we rode along, she shifted under the sweater so that she could lace our fingers together. I was immediately aware of how rough my hands were compared to hers. She spent her days as a nanny for a wealthy
Englisch
couple—both doctors—who lived in Strasburg. The dirtiest thing she had done that day was probably change a diaper. I, on the other hand, had been pretty much ankle deep in horse manure since morning.

I knew I needed to finish telling her about Priscilla's return—and about Amos's request—but I hesitated to break the spell of this night. It was just so beautiful out, the temperature perfect, the sky quickly becoming a starry delight, and our favorite road was just ahead on the right.

“Here we are,” I said as we took the turn onto a dark and winding lane, and she squeezed my hand in response.

The street was Smuckers Lane, but we called it Smoochers Lane instead, thanks to a small stretch about halfway up that had thick trees lining both sides and no streetlights in sight. On quiet nights when traffic was light, Smoochers Lane gave us about a quarter mile's worth of total privacy, an opportunity we both appreciated.

Tonight was no exception. I couldn't get there quickly enough, and even Willow knew the drill. She picked up speed as we clattered along, but then as soon as we entered the canopy of trees, she slowed from a fast trot down to her most leisurely gait. I looked ahead and behind, and then I slipped an arm around my girlfriend, pulled her close, and lowered my mouth to hers to share a long, lingering kiss.

“Headlights,” she whispered as we came up for air, so we pulled apart and faced forward again, staring straight ahead until the car had overtaken us and moved on past, out of sight.

Amanda leaned in for another kiss. “You taste like chocolate,” she murmured as she teased my lips with hers.

“Mmm, you taste like… ”

“Like what?”

I kissed her again, stalling as I tried to think of something special to say, something that a girl would find pleasing. “I don't know,” I finally whispered. “Like rainbows? Sunshine?”

At that she burst out laughing—and couldn't stop until we were out from under the trees and back in the open again.

“Oh, come on, don't pout,” she said once she'd calmed down, reaching out a finger and touching it to my lips. “It was funny, that's all.”

I hefted the reins and chucked for Willow to pick up the speed. “I was trying to be romantic.”

“Is that what that was?” she asked, bursting into new peals of laughter.

I wanted to be mad at her, but considering how much grace she had shown with my tardiness tonight, I didn't feel that I had the right. I decided to change the subject.

“Seriously,” she interjected before I could do so, “I don't like hearts and flowers, and I don't need, um, sunshine and rainbows.” Her voice nearly broke into another chuckle, but she managed to hold it in until the urge passed. Then she again took my hand and squeezed it tight. “What I need is a guy like you, Jake. Someone who's chill, you know?”

“Chill?”

She shrugged. “It's
Englisch
slang. Means easy to be with. Even-tempered. Uncomplicated.”

I nodded, for those were the very things I liked best about her.

We rode along, chatting softly, enjoying the night and each other's company as we took our usual route, one that would make a big square and eventually bring us back to where we began. At first, we talked of nothing important, but by the time we made the final turn that would lead us to her house, I knew I had to get to the topic of Priscilla.

I started by explaining the reason for my delay tonight, the dinner for the returning Kinsinger cousin. I had thought Amanda would be surprised to learn that her old classmate had come back to Lancaster County at last, but as it turned out, she already knew. Of course she knew, I realized. The Amish grapevine prevailed.

“Has she come to stay?” Amanda asked, eager for details.

She's come to get married, have kids, and remake her life
is what I wanted to say. According to Amos, that was the truth—even if Priscilla didn't know it yet.

“I'm not sure,” I said instead. “It's complicated.”

“She's been away a long time. Like, what? Five years? Six?”

“Six, according to Owen.”

“I wonder if she wanted to come back or if they made her, for some reason.”

“Made her? She's a grown woman, Amanda.”

“She's a
strange
woman, Jake. Unless she's changed. Has she?”

I shrugged. “I wouldn't know. The only time I ever came in contact with her back then was when I was hanging out with Owen or pestering Amos.”

“Well, trust me. She was a strange one.”

Amanda's family lived in the same district as the Kinsingers, which meant she and Priscilla had attended the same school, the same worship gatherings, the same social events, and more. Considering they had practically grown up together, they would have known each other quite well back then.

“So what was she really like?” I asked. “I always just thought of her as Owen's odd little tomboy cousin.”

Amanda let out a laugh. “What was she like?”

“Yeah. I'm curious.”

Amanda thought for a moment. “Antisocial. Anti-
fun
.”

“That bad?”

“Oh, yeah. You didn't live in this district, so you don't know. If a person wasn't a horse or a dog or some other kind of animal, they might as well have been invisible.”

“So you two weren't close?”

“Are you kidding? Nobody was close to her—not before her
daed
died, not after her
daed
died, and certainly not after her
mamm
died. It was all so sad, of course. I'm not saying it wasn't. But she wouldn't let any of us get near her. She wouldn't connect, and she refused to accept our help.”

A pang of empathy rose up within me. It was rare indeed for a member of an Amish community to be isolated, especially in times of grief. Even if it was by choice, I couldn't imagine what that must have been like for Priscilla.

“How old was she when her father died?”