скачать книгу бесплатно
Chapter Four (#ulink_953ce3c8-41cf-5007-bb6a-72238a17e6f4)
Jacob stood in the center of Zook’s Blacksmithy and examined the shop. He felt a little nervous pull in his gut. Could he do this and do it well? His attention focused on the tools hanging on the wall: metal tongs, cross-peen hammers and other various tools for shaping metal, before it moved to the steel anvil not far from the brick forge.
You must be careful you don’t burn yourself, Jacob, Joe had warned him time and again when he was a boy. Hold these tongs just so— The man had shown him how to use the tool. These will get hot, as well. He had gestured toward his leather apron. This garment protects my clothes from sparks and heat.
One particular day after Jacob, as a young boy, had been coming to the shop for weeks, Joe had pulled out a slightly smaller version of his leather apron and handed it to him. Jacob had accepted the garment with wide eyes, pleased that Joe trusted him enough to let him try his hand at blacksmithing.
The memory of Joe’s patient voice calmed him. Suddenly, everything within the shop seemed familiar again. He just had to remember all the things that Joe had taught him, and he’d do fine.
“Jacob.”
Startled, Jacob spun, surprised to see Joe in his wheelchair. Annie stood behind him in the open doorway, looking beautiful in a light blue dress, black apron and with a white prayer kapp on her golden-blond hair. She appeared concerned for her father. In direct contrast, Horseshoe Joe looked pale beneath his white-streaked brown beard. He had left his hat in the house, and his tousled graying hair made him look much older than his forty-some years. “Joe, ya shouldn’t be here. You should be resting and recovering.”
Joe nodded. “I just wanted to check in on your first day here. Is there anything you need? Anything you want to know?”
The memory of Joe’s teachings gave Jacob the confidence to smile. “I remember everything you taught me. I’ll be fine.”
“I never doubted that,” Joe replied. “You make sure you stop a time or two and come to the house for something to eat.”
“If I get hungry, I will,” Jacob said. He smiled at Annie. She glanced quickly away and he turned his attention back to Horseshoe Joe. “Do you have a list of any back orders?” he asked.
“Ja,” Joe said. “Annie, push me closer.” He gestured toward the other side of the shop.
“Dat...”
“I’m not going to work, daughter. I’m hardly in a position to do anything but sit—and even that’s getting painful.” Annie pushed her father’s wheelchair farther into the room. “This is fine, Annie.” Joe gestured toward a wall shelf. “Jacob? See that notebook? Inside, you’ll find a list of special orders. Not horseshoes but cabinet hinges, tools for specific use and other requests.”
Jacob pulled the book from its nesting place on the shelf. He flipped through pages, seeing Joe’s notes. “This will be helpful.”
Joe looked tired. “There will be the usual orders for horseshoes. Abram Peachy has been patiently waiting for me to shoe one of his mares. If you can take care of that soon, I’d appreciate it.” Jacob saw a hint of tears in the older man’s eyes. “Danki, Jacob.”
“I’m grateful you had the patience to teach me about blacksmithing when I was younger,” Jacob replied.
“I enjoyed having you in the shop, interested in my work.” Joe smiled.
Jacob grinned. His good humor dimmed as he met Annie’s gaze briefly before returning his attention to her father. “Go home and rest. Things will be fine here.”
Joe’s smile was weak. “I think I’ll do that.”
“It was gut of you to visit me on my first day,” Jacob said. He gave Annie a nod, and she acknowledged it politely. He knew that she would take good care of her father.
As she pushed Joe from the shop, Jacob sighed. Annie. He had a lot to do and he didn’t need his thoughts muddled with Annie Zook and whether or not she approved of him. A blacksmith’s job took concentration, skill and patience, and he planned to ensure that Zook’s Blacksmithy continued to run smoothly in Horseshoe Joe’s absence.
* * *
Annie pushed her father up the wheelchair ramp and into the house. “You’ll be resting now, Dat?”
Her father sighed. “Ja. I’m feeling weak.”
“’Tis to be expected. You’ve done too much today.” She eyed him with concern. “Is your shin hurting?”
He nodded. “I’ll just sit in my chair and put up my leg.”
“Do ya need a pain pill?”
“Nay. I’ll be fine. Would you get me a cup of tea?”
Annie smiled. “I’ll bring you some of your favorite cookies, too.” She helped him move to his favorite chair. With Annie’s help, he set both of his legs onto the stool Noah Lapp had made for him and closed his eyes.
Annie picked up a quilt, spread it carefully over his legs and tucked it in near his waist. “I’ll be right back, Dat.”
He acknowledged her with a small sound that told her he might be ready to sleep. Still, she left the room and entered the kitchen to put on a pot of tea. As she placed the kettle on the stove, she thought of Jacob. It was strange to see him in the shop again. Watching him take stock of Zook’s Blacksmithy, she became overly conscious that he was no longer a boy but an attractive man.
I’m older and wiser; I won’t make the same mistake twice. She wouldn’t fall for another Lapp brother.
When the water was hot, she poured it into a teapot and added two bags. She’d enjoy a cup, too. Her mother and sister were not home; they were next door at her grosseldre’s house.
When the tea had steeped, she poured out two cups. After filling a plate with treats, she went back to the gathering room and her father. Her dat opened his eyes when she entered the room.
“Gut,” he said. “Those cookies look delicious.” He smiled when Annie placed his tea just the way he liked it on the table beside him.
“I put more than one kind on the plate,” she said as she offered him a napkin and extended the dish.
“They’re all my favorite,” he said with a weak grin. There was a tired look about his eyes, but there was enjoyment, too. Annie was happy to see it. “Annie.” Her father captured her hand as she turned to leave. “Take the boy something to eat later.”
Annie frowned. “Boy?”
“Jacob,” Dat said as he took a bite.
“Jacob’s not a boy, Dat.” She held out the plate for him.
“Man, then,” her father corrected as he selected another cookie.
She opened her mouth to say more but promptly thought better of it. “I’ll make him something to eat.”
“How about that leftover chicken potpie of yours?”
“Mam made it.” She rubbed her nape with her left hand. “I’ll bring him a bowlful and something to drink.”
“Nay, Annie. Invite him to eat lunch with us,” her dat said. “He’s doing me a favor by pitching in.”
“Are ya sure he’ll do a gut enough job for you?” she asked. She was upset that Jacob hadn’t waited for her to talk with her father about the idea.
“He’ll do a fine job.” Dat took a sip of his tea. “I taught him well.”
“But he was only eleven or twelve then,” she said. “That was a long time ago.”
“He’s a natural. He hasn’t forgotten what to do.” Her father smiled. “Shouldn’t your mudder be back by now?”
Annie shook her head. “She and Barbara are cleaning for Grossmudder.”
“And you had vadder duty,” Dat said sadly.
She settled her hand on his shoulder. “Dat, ’tis my pleasure to be here for you.”
Her father regarded her with affection. “I know.”
Annie saw her dat’s eyes brighten as he caught sight of her dog, Millie, curled up in her bed. He’d grown attached to the dog since his accident.
“Millie,” she called softly. The dog picked up her head. “Go sit by Dat.” As if she understood, little Millie rose from her bed and went to lie next to the base of Joe’s chair. “Watch him for me, girl.”
“Bring Jacob some water when you ask him to lunch. Working in the shop makes a man thirsty,” Joe said as he closed his eyes.
Annie stiffened. “Ja, Dat,” she said dutifully. In the kitchen, she filled a large plastic jug with water. She then grabbed a cup and a plate of cookies before she reluctantly headed out to the barn.
* * *
Jacob pulled out the tools he needed to make the horseshoes for Abram Peachy’s mare and stoked up the fire in the forge. He could use the propane torch but not today. He wanted to do it the way he’d first been taught. The leather apron Joe had bought for him still hung in the shop, as if it were only a day rather than years since he’d visited last. Jacob fingered the material. It was too small for him, and so he put on Joe’s. Next, he pulled on gloves to protect his hands.
The shop was warm, the heat from the fire a bit overwhelming as he set metal into flame until it glowed an orange red. Next, he hammered it into the shape of a horseshoe on the steel anvil. The sound of his cross-peen hammer against the glowing metal filled the room, rewarding him with a sense of familiar satisfaction. He hammered, checked the metal, fired it up again and hammered some more, then he suddenly became aware of someone’s presence. He didn’t have to look toward the doorway to know who had entered the shop. “Annie,” he said without looking up. “Do you need something?”
“Nay,” she called back, to be heard over the ring of iron against steel as he continued his work. “I’ve brought you a drink.”
Jacob stopped pounding, set down his tools and glanced her way. “Water,” he said with a grateful smile.
She carried the refreshments to the worktable on the opposite side of the room. “Dat said you’d be thirsty.”
“Ja,” he said, watching her closely. “I could use a drink.” She poured him a glass of water and offered it to him. He nodded his thanks and took a sip. “Just what I needed.”
“I brought cookies, too.” She placed the plate on the workbench within his reach. “For whenever you’re hungry,” she added. “Dat said you’re to join us for lunch.”
“You don’t have to feed me,” he said carefully.
“We’ve got plenty. So, you’ll come? Dat will be pleased if you do.”
“And you?” he dared to ask. “Will you mind?”
She blushed. “I’m asking you, aren’t I?” Her expression became unreadable. “We’re grateful that you’re handling Dat’s work.”
“First see how I do before you’re too grateful.”
“Dat has confidence in your abilities, so I do, too.” She touched a hand to her prayer kapp. “You will come?”
He noted the vibrant gold in her blond hair. “Ja, I’ll be there. I wouldn’t want to disappoint Joe.” He locked gazes with her.
She looked away. “I’d better finish my chores—”
He glanced down at the cooling metal. He would have to fire it up again before he could continue the job. “And I better get back to work.”
She hesitated. “If there is anything you need before then, come to the haus and let us know.”
He nodded and turned his attention back to the forge, conscious of the exact moment when Annie left the shop.
* * *
Annie was stirring the pan of chicken potpie when she heard her brother’s voice coming from the front of the house.
“Jacob!” Peter cried. “Come eat!”
Although she listened carefully, Annie couldn’t hear his reply, but she recognized Jacob’s deep male voice.
“Bread done?” Mam entered the room from the other side.
“Ja,” Annie said. “Fresh from the oven and ready to be sliced. I took the butter out of the refrigerator.”
“I’ll open a jar of chow-chow,” her mother said, referring to garden vegetables canned in a sweet-and-sour mix.
“I made a pitcher of iced tea this morning,” Annie told her. “And lemonade.” She filled a pitcher for those who preferred water.
Peter entered, followed closely by her father in his wheelchair. “Dat, I would have brought you something to eat.” Her voice trailed off when she saw who stood behind the chair.
“Hallo,” Jacob said as he pushed Joe’s chair farther into the room. “It smells wonderful in here.”
Mam turned from the kitchen counter with the dish of chow-chow. “I’m glad you could join us, Jacob.”
“I’m happy you asked.” He flashed Annie a look that made the heat rise in her face.
Annie scrambled to move furniture to accommodate her father’s wheelchair at the table. Then she turned to the stove, where she ladled their meal into a large ceramic bowl. “I hope you like chicken potpie.”
“Ja, ’tis one of my favorites.” Jacob smiled as he took the seat where instructed, next to her father. “Did ya make it?”
Annie shook her head. “Nay, Mam did.”
“You helped with the pie squares,” her mam said.
Annie had, in fact, rolled out the dough thinly, and she’d cut it into one-inch squares. Unlike the pie-crusted potpies made by the English, the Amish recipe for chicken potpie did not have a two-part flaky crust surrounding the cooked chicken and vegetables, nor was it baked in the oven. The women in their Amish community cooked the chicken in a stockpot until the meat was tender and the water became broth. Then they added vegetables and seasoning. Once the time was right, they stirred in pie squares, similar to the dough the English used in their chicken-and-dumpling recipes. Annie had learned the recipe from her mother at a young age, and over the years, she’d become skilled at making the thick, tasty dish.
The wonderful scent of chicken and the lingering aroma of baked bread permeated the kitchen, smelling delicious. Annie set the bowl on the table and went back for the bread. She placed the basket next to the main course.
The meal was simple, but there was plenty to eat. Annie put a hefty amount on each plate while her mother passed around the chow-chow bowl.
“Bread?” Annie extended the basket toward Jacob. “There’s butter and strawberry jam.”
Jacob smiled as he took a thick, crusty slice but he declined the toppings, apparently preferring to eat his bread plain.
“Where’s Josiah?” her mother asked with a frown.
“He’s coming. He’s out in the fields,” Annie told her. She heard the front door open and footsteps as someone entered the house.
