It was just the five of us at dinner—Amos, Roseanna, Priscilla, Amanda, and I—and it went better than I thought it would, much to my relief. Things were uncomfortable at first, but Amanda was the perfect addition to the group. She was a natural conversationalist, talking and smiling and asking the right questions and making everyone feel more relaxed. By the time I was on my second helping of ham loaf, I realized I was actually enjoying myself.
Better yet, I was starting to glimpse a side of Priscilla I hadn’t seen before. It started when Amanda said something about their school days together and how Priscilla had always been so quiet.
“You were smart, I remember that,” Amanda told her. “But you should have talked more.”
“Yeah,” Priscilla replied. “You should have too.”
We all fell silent for a moment, but when I looked over at Priscilla, who was contentedly buttering a role, I detected the slight, sly smile on her lips. She was teasing.
The moment Amanda caught on, she burst into a huge laugh. “Good one! You got me!” she exclaimed, and we all shared in the humor. Amanda Shetler was many things, but quiet had never been one of them.
As the meal continued on after that, it struck me that if anyone was going to be able to bring Priscilla out of her shell and get her to connect with others, it might be Amanda. She was definitely well suited to the task.
If only her plan didn’t include matchmaking.
The next day was a nonchurch Sunday, which meant I’d be going over to my parents’ house for a nice visit and an early lunch. I wasn’t sure who else would be there, though I could probably count on seeing Tyler and Rachel. My older brothers and their families would sometimes come as well, as would my sister Sarah and her husband if they weren’t busy with their own children and grandchildren. Everyone would bring something for the table, and we’d spend the morning or the afternoon enjoying each other’s company, singing hymns together, sharing the news of the week with one another, playing board games—that kind of thing.
My parents lived eight miles southwest of the Kinsingers, on a hilly homestead near Strasburg that housed the family buggy shop. I set out early, Willow and I both enjoying the cool of the morning air before it evaporated into the heat of the day.
As it turned out, the only ones who were there for dinner were Tyler and Rachel, my parents, and me. Though I always enjoyed seeing everyone else, there was something nice and calm about so few of us being there.
We ate at eleven, a delicious spread of roast chicken, potato salad, and green bean casserole my mother had prepared the night before. Conversation around the table was light and easy, and I found myself telling them about Natasha and January and seeing Eric. I didn’t bring up anything from my phone conversation with him later. I just said he and I ran into each other at the auction and he was the one who had made the connection. Thanks to him, I now had a little side job of horse-gentling for Natasha Fremont, which should be fun and rewarding.
Tyler was acting a little odd throughout the meal, stroking his less-than-substantial beard—the telltale mark of a married Amish man—as though he was contemplating a dozen perplexing thoughts. I was about to ask him if something was wrong when I figured out what it was that had him so distracted.
Rachel had made a big pan of monkey bread, but when she went to take it out of the oven, he suddenly jumped up and did it for her. She started to object, but he stopped her with a cluck of his tongue, as if to say she knew better. He set the pan on the stove, and then, as he handed her back the oven mitts, their eyes met and a look passed between them so sweet and joyful and intimate that it hit me like a bolt of lightning. Rachel was expecting. Tyler was going to be a father.
That wasn’t something people talked about, but I found myself wondering if Mamm had figured it out yet. If not, she was going to be thrilled, as would Daed. We all knew the long road Tyler had been down in his life, and that if anyone deserved this kind of happiness, it was he.
Tyler’s mother was my oldest sister, Sadie, the one sibling I’d never had the chance to meet. She left home when she was just eighteen, before I was even born. After breaking away from the Amish life and going to live in Philadelphia, she met a military man and married him not long after. By all accounts, their life together was a happy one, especially once Tyler was born. But then came the day, when Tyler was just six years old, that Sadie died unexpectedly of a brain aneurism. That left just Tyler and his dad, a reluctant single father who was about to ship off overseas at the time. That’s why, after Sadie’s funeral, he asked my parents—the Amish grandparents Tyler had never even met before—to take in their grandson temporarily, just until he completed his tour of duty.
That temporary arrangement ended up lasting for many years, and though it had taken Tyler a long time to decide which of the two worlds God wanted him to live in as an adult—this Plain one right here or the fancy one out there—he had chosen the Amish way in the end.
Now he was married to a sweet and lovely woman who adored him and who was having his baby. A part of me was so happy for them, but I had to admit that another part of me was a tad envious. By all rights, as Tyler’s uncle and the older of us by several months, I should have been the first to marry and have a child. Instead, Tyler had outpaced me with both the wedding and fatherhood, moving along at full speed through the kind of life I wanted for myself but had yet to even begin.
That thought led me to think of Priscilla and the man out in Indiana who was hoping to marry her. Did he love her? For some reason, I doubted it. More than anything, he probably just needed her to be a mother to his children, to cook his meals and clean his house and do all the things a good Amish wife would do. But I had to wonder, if they did end up together, was he the kind of guy who would understand her need for peace and quiet sometimes, for being alone, for connecting with animals? Would he appreciate the violet of her eyes, the petiteness of her hands? The serene way she communicated with God’s creatures?
“Penny for your thoughts,” my mother said, and when I looked up I realized she was talking to me.
“Sorry, I was just thinking,” I replied, spearing my last bite of chicken and popping it into my mouth.
“You looked like you were a million miles away,” Rachel added, retaking her seat at the table as the monkey bread cooled on the stove.
“I was just… I was thinking about Priscilla Kinsinger, Amos’s niece,” I said. Then, turning to Daed, I added, “Remember the little girl who used to hang out at Amos’s blacksmith shop when I was a kid?”
He shook his head.
“Sure you do. Daniel Kinsinger’s daughter? Real quiet, kind of a tomboy?”
“Ah, yes,” he said, nodding. “I remember. The girl whose mother died so tragically.”
“Right, I remember that too,” Mamm said. “We sent over a casserole and some pies. Her mother fell down the stairs or something, didn’t she?”
“That’s the one,” I said. “Anyway, Priscilla has been living in Indiana for the past six years, but now she’s back, at least temporarily. Amos and Roseanna are happy about it, and they’re hoping she’ll stick around. They want her to make a new life for herself here.”
“I hope things work out well for her,” my mother said. “And I’ll certainly keep her in my prayers.” She took a sip of her tea and then put down the glass and looked my way, her eyes twinkling. “Is she pretty?”
Oh, boy. I knew what she was insinuating, that this Priscilla person might be a good match for her youngest son. I answered her question with a shrug and tried to change the subject, but then Tyler had to open his big mouth.
“Jake’s already seeing someone, Mammi,” he told her, sounding like a much younger version of himself. Jake ate the last slice of pie, Mammi; tracked mud in the house, Mammi; broke the flower vase, Mammi. “At least that’s what I hear.”
I gave him my sternest glare even as everyone else at the table seemed delighted with the news.
“Is this true, Jake?” Mamm asked. “You may as well go ahead and tell us. Who is she?”
I couldn’t believe my mother was asking me such a personal question, especially because she’d always been so good about respecting my privacy. Perhaps she, too, had been wondering when or if I was ever going to move into the next phase of my life with a wife and children.
I was trying to think how to respond, but when I didn’t reply soon enough, Tyler spoke again.
“It’s Amanda Shetler,” he said, flashing me a victorious grin.
Mamm looked confused, so Rachel elaborated. “Her daed is a minister? Her mamm was Mary Ellen Fussner from Quarryville? They have those adorable twin girls?”
“Oh, yes,” Mamm said finally, nodding. “Amanda is their oldest.” Turning to me, she added, “I know her. My goodness, Jake. She’s a lovely young woman. Just lovely.”
“Just lovely,” Tyler echoed, and I kicked him under the table.
“So?” Mamm asked, zeroing in on me. “Is Tyler correct? Are you really courting Amanda Shetler?”
“Seriously, Mamm?” I replied. “Why aren’t you scolding Tyler right now? You’ve never abided tattling before.”
She dabbed at her mouth daintily with a napkin and then returned it to her lap. “What can I say, son? That’s when the two of you were still at home. Once a woman’s children are grown and gone, she’ll take information any way she can get it.”
Everyone laughed, and Tyler gave a hearty, “Hear, hear!”
I gave up. “Fine. Ya. I’m courting Amanda Shetler. Have been for four months now.”
“Four months,” my mother said, glancing toward the calendar hanging on the wall in the kitchen. “Gut. Because it’s already June.”
They all chuckled again as they knew what she was implying. With our district’s wedding season beginning in mid-to-late October, I would need to propose to Amanda by September at the latest if we wanted to marry this time around. If we didn’t take that step then, it would be a whole year before we would have the opportunity again.
“Don’t rush him,” Tyler said, suddenly shifting to my side in the conversation. “You don’t want to scare him off.”
“Yes, dear,” my mother replied sweetly, “but autumn will be here before you know it.”
“And t’will be back again the following year,” Tyler replied.
This time, I joined in the laughter. Tyler, more than anyone, knew what it meant to delay an engagement. After all, he’d known and loved Rachel since they were children together, but he hadn’t asked her to marry him for years, not until he was almost twenty-four. Fortunately for him, she was a patient sort and had loved him enough to wait him out. Now they were blessed not just with a happy union but a new child on the way as well.
“My timeline with Amanda is on track whether we publish this season or next,” I said, hoping to end the discussion there. They all knew it wasn’t unusual for a couple to date for at least a year before taking that next step. They also knew that my relationship with Amanda was a private matter, not fodder for dinner table conversation. In fact, the only reason this discussion was happening at all was because there were only the five of us today. If my other siblings and their families had come too, the table talk would have remained at a far less intrusive level.
“You’re not getting any younger, is all I’m saying,” my mother told me in a singsongy voice.
“And she is a very special girl,” Rachel chimed in.
“Ya, I know. I’m well aware that I’m no spring chicken, and that I would be blessed to have Amanda Shetler as a wife.” Holding up both hands in mock surrender, I added, “Thank you all for your input. So, Daed, what do you think of the new polyurethane buggy grips for the four seventeen? Are they as solid as the steel ones on the two twelve?”
They chuckled, but they got the point. The subject was closed.
At last.
It wasn’t until we were ready to leave that I had the chance to give Tyler a piece of my mind for being such a blabbermouth. I had already told my parents goodbye in the house, and the two of us were out front hitching our horses to our buggies.
“Pull that kind of tattletale stunt again,” I told him, “and I’ll… ” My voice faded as I tried to think of a sufficient punishment.
“You’ll what?” Tyler replied, struggling not to laugh.
“I’ll tell them Rachel’s expecting.”
He stopped what he was doing and stood up straight, his eyes wide. “How’d you know?”
“So it’s true?”
“Ya. About three and half months now.”
He grinned, and seeing the joy on his face, I felt my earlier resentments slipping away. Tyler was my nephew and my best friend, and I loved Rachel like a sister. Truly, I couldn’t have been happier for them both.
“Just bear this in mind,” I said as I tugged on the cinch one last time before giving Willow a pat on her rump. “The fact that I didn’t use that bit of information in there to divert the attention away from myself only proves that I’m the better man.”
Tyler threw back his head and laughed.
“Always said you were, Jake,” he told me, reaching out to give my shoulder a squeeze. “Always said you were.”
Rachel emerged from the house and came our way, but instead of going straight to their buggy, she surprised me by walking over to me and taking one of my hands in hers.
“Before you go, may I be so bold as to give you a bit of advice?” she asked.
I cringed, knowing full well this was going to have something to do with my courting Amanda. Ever since Rachel and Tyler had gotten married, she’d begun to make a habit of doling out words of wisdom to me now and then whether I wanted to hear them or not. Usually I did, but this time, not so much.
“Sure,” I groaned.
Smiling, she moved in even closer and spoke in a soft voice. “Now that you’re in a relationship, you must keep your eye on the most important thing. Remember, the point of courting is not for you to decide if Amanda will become your wife.”
My eyes widened. “It’s not?”
“It’s not?” Tyler echoed, also moving in close.
Rachel shook her head, her vivid blue eyes sparkling. “No. It’s the time for seeking whether it is God’s will that Amanda become your wife.”
“Ah,” I replied, nodding. Though I already knew what she was saying, it never hurt to be reminded of that. “Ya. Of course. Not my will, but His.”
We said our goodbyes after that, and then Tyler helped Rachel into their buggy. Before he climbed in after her, I gave his shoulder a pat.
He flashed me a grin in return, seeming to know without words what I was trying to say, that the life God had willed for him was very blessed indeed.