The Amish Blacksmith (44 page)

As it was, Owen hurried to hang up his tools when he was done, saying he needed to cut out a little early and would I mind waiting around for the last of the newly shod horses to be picked up.

“Sure. Everything okay?”

“Treva's
daed
wants us over for dinner,” he said, looking as if he'd rather do anything else in the world than that.

“And that's a problem why?” I asked with a smile. “You love going over there.”

But he didn't answer me. It didn't even seem that he was listening. Instead, he simply said, “
Ya
. Thanks, Jake. See you tomorrow.”

Before I could say another word, he'd turned and was striding out of the shop.

I was set to go to Amanda's that evening after supper, so as soon as the owner of the horse came back and got him, I started in on the evening chores. I sent Stephen a bit early to get Big Sam, Willow, and Mahlon's and Owen's horses from the back paddock where they had spent the latter part of the afternoon getting air and exercise. After cleaning out the stalls and feeding and watering the animals, I went back to my cottage, showered, and changed into clean clothes. Then I heated a can of soup and ate that with a ham sandwich, wishing all the while that Amanda's mom had invited me to dinner.

It was a few minutes after seven when I arrived at the Shetlers' place. I thought we would go for a buggy ride as usual, but instead Amanda invited me inside. Her mother was visiting a friend and had taken the twins with her. Her dad, a shy man whom I was still trying to get to know, gave me a nice enough hello but immediately went outside, saying he had a broken generator to fix.

“Wow, pretty quiet around here,” I said, giving Amanda a smile.

She smiled in return, looking awkward—nervous even—as we stood in the kitchen.
“Ya.
Um, want some cobbler?
Mamm
made it yesterday. Apricot, I think.”

“No. No,
danke
,” I said warily, trying to get a read on her mood. I had never seen her like this. She seemed extremely uncomfortable.

She glanced around the big room as though she didn't know what to do next.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, knowing full well it was not. Was she mad at me because I had been so distracted lately? Had she learned about the promise I'd made to Priscilla and was angry I hadn't told her?

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.

T
HIRTY
-O
NE

W
hen 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, expectant 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.