I managed to shower and dress in plenty of time for dinner, though as I took my seat at the Kinsingers’ table that evening, I couldn’t help but glance over at the clock on the wall. Perhaps I could still go over to Amanda’s later, maybe take her for a starlit buggy ride—assuming this welcome home meal for Priscilla didn’t stretch on for too long.
As everyone got settled, I leaned over to Amos and told him there was an extra horse in Willow’s stable tonight, that Trudy Fisher’s new Morgan had some anxiety issues and she was hoping I could help. Amos said that that was fine with him, as long as I did so on my own time and not when I was supposed to be working.
Finally, everyone was assembled and we bowed our heads in silent prayer. I ended my prayer by asking God to not only bless this meal and the ones who had prepared it, but also to help keep it brief so I wouldn’t miss too much time with Amanda.
Or not, I quickly added to my prayer, feeling the heat of guilt surge in my face as Amos gave a somber “Amen.”
The crowd at the table included everyone who resided on the Kinsinger farm: Amos and Roseanna, who lived here in the main house, their older son, Mahlon, and his family, who lived in a second house that was connected to this one via a breezeway, and their younger son, Owen, and his family, who lived in the smaller house that sat closest to the road. I lived here as well, in the run-down guest cottage that also sat out front, on the far side of the big garden. Rounding out the group tonight were Amos and Roseanna’s three grown daughters—Lucinda, Grace, and Ruth, who all lived elsewhere—and their spouses and children.
It was a big, noisy bunch, though conversation seemed to flow along easily enough, and the food was amazing as usual. Feeling somewhat like an interloper, I mostly just listened and ate and tried to keep my discreet glances at the clock to a minimum.
Though Priscilla was definitely still the quiet type, I was able to pick up on a few things about her life these days just from what others said and asked. It seemed that her most recent employment out in Indiana had been as a companion to an elderly neighbor. Jobs were hard to come by in her area, and once the neighbor passed away, Priscilla had had trouble finding something else. Finally, she’d decided to come here instead—or, as she put it, she’d felt God’s leading to return, and so she’d “had no choice but to obey.” That wasn’t exactly a rousing endorsement of life in Lancaster County, but no one seemed offended.
“You should be able to find something around here,” said Treva, Owen’s wife. “I could put the word out to see if any caregiver positions are available.”
“Thanks, but no,” Priscilla replied quickly. “I’ve had enough of that.”
The conversation lagged for a moment, and I realized everyone else was probably thinking the same thing I was, that what she really meant was that she’d had enough of death.
“What kind of work will you be looking for?” Roseanna asked, pretending that the moment hadn’t grown awkward.
Priscilla speared a pea with her fork. “I’m not sure,” she answered softly. “Something temporary, I imagine.”
That seemed to stop the group entirely—not just from speaking but from eating as well. When Priscilla looked around and realized the reaction her words had caused, her face turned a vivid red. “What I mean is,” she ventured, her eyes back on the plate in front of her, “I don’t plan on sticking around all that long. Maybe just for the summer.”
Still no one spoke, so I decided to try to break the tension by dragging it out in the open. “Well,” I said with a smile, leaning forward, my gaze on Priscilla. “This should make you feel good.”
Her delicate cheeks still pink, she looked up at me, her eyebrows raised in question.
“To see how disappointed everyone is,” I explained, gesturing around the table. “They were so excited to be getting you back that now they’re sorry to hear they might not get to keep you for long.”
I was afraid that was laying it on a little thick, but to my relief Mahlon’s wife jumped in.
“Jake’s right,” Beth said, nodding vigorously. “We’ve really missed having you around.”
That earned some “yas” from every side of the table, and though I wasn’t sure if it was exactly true, I did know they all cared about this young woman and her welfare. And why not? About the only thing sadder than a girl losing both parents by the age of fourteen was a girl unable to recover from that loss and eventually having to be sent away to live with distant relatives. The Kinsingers were good people, and I had no doubt they had done everything they could to help Priscilla with her grief back then. I also knew the relief they had felt in realizing she had recovered enough from all of that to finally return.
“How about retail?” Roseanna asked, trying to steer the conversation back to the topic of employment. “I could see if there’s anything available at the quilt shop.”
I stifled a smile by shoving a big bite of chicken into my mouth. Shy Priscilla working with customers? I couldn’t imagine a more uncomfortable position for her than that.
“Do you have any office skills?” Lucinda asked before Priscilla could reply. “I heard they might be looking for another secretary up at the hat factory.”
Owen and Treva’s baby, Josef, let out a sudden cry. As Treva placated him with a spoonful of mashed carrots, she added, “Or maybe you could find work as a mother’s helper.”
“Good idea,” Owen echoed.
Lucinda seemed about to offer another suggestion when Amos held out a hand.
“Enough,” he declared, his voice sounding stern, though there was a twinkle in his eye. “The girl has been here all of an hour, and already you folks are trying to send her off to a job. Leave her alone. For now, I would be happy just to see her pitching in around the house. Roseanna could use another pair of hands, especially on the days she works at the quilt shop.” He turned to his wife and added, “In fact, instead of marching your niece down there for a job, you could ask for more hours for yourself. She could handle things here on the home front while you earn a little more pocket money.”
Considering that Roseanna’s paycheck helped put food on the table, I feared she might bristle at the term “pocket money.” But she just smiled and nodded and said that was a gut idea. Priscilla seemed relieved as well, and soon the conversation had moved on to a completely different topic, something about new jars and canning fruit and the need to clean out the pantry before the peaches were ripe.
The meal continued, and the only other time the focus turned back to the guest of honor was at the very end, when one of Ruth’s teenage sons asked Priscilla if she’d stayed in touch with any of her old friends here in Lancaster County. He’d been too young back then to realize that the girl hadn’t had many—if any—friends when she’d lived here. To most folks, she’d always seemed the odd one out, the girl with the violet eyes who liked to talk to animals.
“I’ve been gone a little too long for that,” she replied stiffly, and things grew silent around the table once more.
“I’m sure the horses will remember you,” I offered, once again trying to ease an awkward moment. “I mean, the ones that were here back then.”
In response, Priscilla gave me a look I could only describe as curious. “Think so?”
For a moment, it almost felt like the old Priscilla and the old Jake, just talking about horses as usual, as if not a day had passed.
“Of course. You spent enough time with them.”
“Ya,” she replied, her expression growing unreadable. “So did you.”
I was trying to think of a response when Amos laughed and told her, “He still does. Jake’s our newest blacksmith. He finally has a reason to be darkening my doorstep.”
Priscilla again looked over at me, her eyes appraising but her lips silent.
“Ya,” I said with a grin. “Owen and I give a very nice pedicure.”
“Very nice,” Owen added with a silly expression, and everyone laughed.
Finally, the meal was over and I could make my escape without seeming rude. With thanks to Roseanna for the delicious food and a last nod to Priscilla, I rose and excused myself for the night. Baby Josef smiled at me and gurgled a farewell, and I gave him a soft pat on the head as I walked past.
Stepping outside into the early summer evening, I decided that Priscilla Kinsinger might be older and prettier now, but she still obviously struggled in social situations. I couldn’t imagine why God had led her to come back to Lancaster County, as she’d said, unless it was to have her confront the last vestiges of grief over the loss of her mother. It would be perfectly normal for Priscilla to miss her late parents, but I hoped the past six years had allowed her to find at least some semblance of peace.
After a quick stop at the shed to roll out my courting buggy, I headed for the smaller barn to retrieve Willow. I’d just gotten her all hooked up when Amos appeared, startling me.
“Going out?”
“Nah. I just like to hitch and unhitch my horse to the buggy for fun.”
I expected him to chuckle—he always seemed to enjoy my particular brand of humor—but instead he ignored my response and asked in a serious tone if I had a few minutes to talk. I gave him a nod, my heart sinking as I realized I must have done something he was unhappy about. Was I in for a lecture of some kind? I quickly went through a mental checklist of my evening chores, certain I had completed everything regarding the horses and the shop.
“Now that you’ve had a little time to catch up with Priscilla,” he said in a soft voice, “I need to ask you a favor.”
“Oh. Okay,” I replied, relief flooding my veins. This wasn’t work related after all.
“With her back here,” he continued, removing his hat and running a finger along its brim, “Roseanna and I agree that the most important thing we need to do is to help her reconnect with other people her age. It’s… it’s urgent, actually.”
“Urgent?” I understood how hard it must be for Priscilla to make friends with people who barely remembered her, but why on earth would something like that be urgent? When he didn’t explain, I added, “You know as well as I do that establishing relationships takes time, Amos. Why the hurry?”
He looked down, and even in the gathering darkness I could see he was embarrassed to be talking about this.
“It’s rather complicated, and I won’t bother you with the details, but according to my sister Lorraine… ” His voice trailed off as he reached up to pat my horse. “Priscilla has been seeing someone… out in Indiana… and he is, uh, eager for her return. Lorraine doesn’t know the full situation, but she’s afraid he’s asked Priscilla to marry him.”
“Why is that a problem?”
Amos sighed. “Well, Lorraine is glad that someone finally showed an interest, of course, and she said he’s a good man. But she feels that this particular match might not be in our niece’s best interest.”
“Is he not Amish?” I asked, surprised at the thought of Priscilla dating outside of the faith.
“Oh, no, he’s Amish,” Amos said. But then he went on to explain that the man was much older and was a widower with eight children, several of whom were nearly as old as Priscilla herself. “I’m sure there are plenty of women who would recognize such an instant family for the blessing that it is,” he added.
“But Priscilla probably isn’t one of them,” I finished.
“Priscilla probably isn’t one of them,” he echoed, shaking his head.
We shared a smile, both of us imagining the disaster that such a match would bring. Distracted, self-absorbed Priscilla didn’t seem suited to the kind of selfless devotion and attention eight motherless kids would need—and deserved.
“In any event, my sister believes Priscilla has come back here in order to explore other options before she gives the fellow an answer. No one else in the family knows about any of this, but when Priscilla spoke at dinner tonight about only staying for the summer, I imagine that’s about the longest her fellow was willing to wait for her to give him a yes or no.”
“I see.”
Willow, eager to be away, tossed her mane and nickered. I felt like doing the same. Though my sympathies were with Amos and his predicament, I couldn’t imagine what any of this had to do with me. All I knew was that the clock was ticking, Amanda was waiting, and I was eager to be finished with this conversation and out of here.
“Regardless of how long Priscilla sticks around,” Amos went on, “Lorraine, Roseanna, and I have high hopes that she’ll meet someone closer to her own age here in Lancaster County, someone more suitable for marriage, a man she can have her own children with. We think she needs to create a new life for herself here.”
“Makes sense,” I told him, wishing he would get to the point. Again, what did any of this have to do with me? Surely Amos wasn’t going to ask me to court his odd niece.
He cleared his throat. “Rumor has it that you’ve been seeing a certain young woman.”
“Amanda Shetler,” I replied with a nod. There was no reason not to confirm what Amos had already been told. In his day, most Amish courted with great discretion, even if word often spread along the grapevine about who was seeing whom. These days, however, couples were far more open about all of that, at least in the less conservative districts.
“Good,” he replied, looking embarrassed for having had to ask. “In that case, what I’d like is for you and Amanda to take Priscilla under your wing.”
I’d heard him, but I still couldn’t help but respond as if I hadn’t. “What was that?”
“Priscilla needs to get back into the circle of young people in our district. She won’t do it on her own. She needs you and Amanda to help her remake those friendships. She won’t meet anybody if she hides in the barn for the rest of her days, here or in Indiana. The best thing that can happen is that someone in our district or one of the neighboring districts will take an interest in her, court her, and marry her.”
“But I don’t know that I’m— ”
“Just take her along with you to the singings and the games and get-togethers, Jake. Introduce her to people, and then watch out for her to make sure she doesn’t just stand in a corner. You’re welcome to use my spring wagon whenever you do since there’ll be three of you.”
I had no desire to do what Amos was asking of me. I wasn’t in my rumspringa anymore. Mentally, I had moved beyond the youth group a few years ago when I took my vows of membership. These days, the only reason I attended events at all was for Amanda’s sake, because she was still young enough to want to be a part of things. Now I was to bring Priscilla along with us as well? No thank you.
I wanted to tell Amos that he was asking too much of me, but the man had given me a job in his blacksmith shop and a place to live, and I ate with his family at their dinner table almost every day. He had been incredibly good to me. I couldn’t say no.
But neither could I see Amanda and me insisting Priscilla come with us to these gatherings if she didn’t want to come. And I was fairly certain she wouldn’t. Actually, I realized, that might be my out.
“Is Priscilla open to this?”
Amos looked at me as if I were nuts. “Well, I’m not going to ask her if she’d like to tag along with you and Amanda. You must invite her. And be adamant about it. In a nice way, of course.”
Great.
“Talk to Amanda and have her help you with that. Roseanna and I would do it ourselves if we could, but we can’t. The invitation has to come from people Priscilla’s own age. I’m sure you can see that.”
“Um… yeah.”
Willow nosed me as if to say we’d been detained long enough, but I was still trying to figure out the ramifications of what was being asked of me—such as how Amanda was going to react and how long we would have to do this—when Amos clapped me on the back.
“We’re all set, then. Thanks, Jake. We need to do what we can for Priscilla so that she can have a life of her own. One that’s a better fit for… for someone like her.”
“I’ll do my best,” I managed to reply.
Then I watched Amos amble back toward the house as if he hadn’t just asked for the impossible.