The Timepiece

by Beverly Lewis

  “Jah.” Sylvia was thankful Ella Mae had brought that up. “That could be, but it still doesn’t change how I’m feelin’ toward Titus right now.” She stared at her hands in her lap. “You prob’ly think I should ask God to soften my heart, to forgive him.”

  Ella Mae smiled ever so sweetly. “That wasn’t my first thought, but jah, ’tis mighty important if you’re goin’ to marry this young man.”

  “That’s just it—I’m not sure anymore. I mean, if I can’t forgive him, and neither of us really trusts the other, how can I be his wife?”

  “I s’pose that’s what I would’ve said, if you’d asked.” Ella Mae was nodding her head thoughtfully. “Seems to me you’ve answered your own questions, dear girl.”

  Sighing, Sylvia wasn’t quite sure. “To tell the truth, I’ve struggled with doubts about the relationship for months now. I just don’t see how I can wed with things how they are.”

  “Is something keepin’ ya from telling Titus good-bye?”

  “Love . . . I guess.” She inhaled slowly. “If that’s even what I’m feeling.”

  “Well, but love isn’t only patient, it’s also prudent.”

  Sylvia hadn’t thought of love being wise. And in that moment, it came to her that she had been standing still, simply hoping things would work out. “Ella Mae, I honestly don’t understand how ya do it, but I feel now like I know what to do.”

  Ella Mae patted her hand. “I’ll be prayin’ the Good Lord will help ya say just the right words when the time comes. And someday soon, I hope He’ll help ya forgive Titus, too. Letting go of anger and just plain forgiving is ever so much better and stronger than holdin’ on to it. It’s the path to God’s peace.”

  “I need peace ’bout this, for sure.” Now it was Sylvia who reached out, not just to pat Ella Mae’s hand but to clasp it. “You don’t know what this means to me.” Getting up, Sylvia leaned against the pretty white railing and looked down at Ella Mae. “All this, and we didn’t even have tea.”

  “You’re right!” Ella Mae giggled. “Now, ain’t that somethin’!”

  Sylvia thanked her again and waved before turning to head down the few steps and over the flower-bordered footpath. Why did I wait so long to open my heart like this?

  CHAPTER

  eighteen

  That evening, Earnest invited Adeline over to his shop while he worked on a new clock featuring a mariner’s compass in fruitwood. “Calvin and Tommy are still talking about teaching you how to milk Flossie,” he said, wanting her to know how much he appreciated her humoring them.

  She was inspecting the two grandfather clocks, both unique in style and wood choice. One, his favorite of the two, had a hand-rubbed Windsor cherry finish. “It was fun—and quite a challenge, to be honest,” she admitted. “Your boys were so helpful and sweet. I mean, most kids their age wouldn’t give me the time of day. . . .” She paused. “I don’t know. Maybe the ones I know all have their noses in their phones. Kids don’t really make their own fun anymore, like I did growing up. It’s kind of sad.”

  Earnest listened, glancing at her as she traced the smooth cherrywood, as if transfixed by its beauty. “Are you interested in owning a floor clock someday?” he asked.

  She stepped back to appraise it. “I never thought I would, but yes . . . this is lovely.” She came to sit down near his workbench. “Maybe after I’m married and have a house.”

  He nodded and smiled. “They do take up space.”

  Adeline laughed lightly at that.

  “By the way, Ernie was impressed with how you interacted with the customers at the roadside stand—Amish and English alike. He said you were a gut coworker.”

  Adeline seemed pleased and said she was glad to help. “Oh, and Andy Zook came by and bought some sweet corn.”

  “Did he, now?”

  She nodded, then, looking a bit sheepish, added, “And asked about Sylvie.”

  Earnest shook his head. “Well, she’s spoken for, as I’m sure Andy knows.”

  “Maybe he’s just interested in being her friend.”

  Chuckling, Earnest replied, “Friendships between fellas and girls round here don’t stay that way for long.”

  “Do you mean Sylvia can’t have a platonic friendship with Andy or any other guy while she’s dating Titus?”

  “Sylvie’s engaged to be married,” Earnest told her, yet even as he said it, he realized that he wasn’t sure what Sylvia was going to decide about that.

  “Okay . . . I won’t bother telling her.”

  They began to talk about the new clock he was making—where he got his ideas so that each creation was one-of-a-kind. He showed her its inner workings, and Adeline leaned closer, clearly intrigued.

  Then she said, “I wanted to follow up on something you mentioned earlier. And not to be too philosophical or anything, but did you come to the Amish searching for answers? You may be tired of all my questions, but—”

  “Not at all,” Earnest reassured her.

  She hesitated. “I still can’t wrap my head around why you, as an educated man, would join the Amish. I mean, some people in my generation live what they think is a minimalist lifestyle, but this takes that to another level.” She sighed. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, what was it you were really searching for?”

  He wasn’t prepared for such a serious question. “I can’t say I had any idea what I was looking for other than an escape. My old life, at least as I knew it, was over. But after running across Hickory Hollow and meeting some of its people, living as an Amishman really appealed to me. And for two decades now, it’s allowed me to heal and focus on the essentials—my family, a slower pace of life, work that I enjoy, and a sense of community.”

  “Are you really satisfied with less?” she asked, letting him know that she had paid attention last Sunday. “I’ve actually thought a lot about that.”

  “Well, let’s see . . . how can I say this so you’ll understand, because I doubt I would have when I was your age.” He paused and set the clock case and chisel he was holding aside on his workbench. “Life is about so much more than material things. If we’re too busy in the pursuit of those, we don’t take time to develop the close friendships we need in order to thrive.” He was thinking of Mahlon again, and his own dear Rhoda. “Nature does wonders for me, too. Being Amish, I’m less cut off from it and the natural rhythms of life than I was as an Englischer. I take time to appreciate the seasons and the different aspects each has to offer. All of this—and meeting Rhoda—was healing to me after my divorce.”

  She studied him. “So your newfound faith didn’t heal you?”

  Earnest was momentarily struck silent—she’d hit the nail on the head. “Well, I know God is a loving heavenly Father, and He created nature for our benefit. He doesn’t want us to live alone, without community. But I have to admit, I’m not the best Amishman when it comes to faith, though I’ve given it my best shot.”

  Adeline seemed to consider that. “The Scripture verses you read each night . . . some of them are jarring to me,” she admitted. “Do they ever jump out at you, too?”

  “Sometimes.” He nodded, feeling inadequate and wishing Rhoda or Sylvie were here.

  “You don’t seem comfortable talking about this.” Adeline sat back in the chair. “I get that.”

  “I’m still finding my way,” he was quick to say.

  “If that’s what you want, I guess it’s better than giving up.”

  He didn’t have the nerve to press Adeline for where she was as far as religion stood. It wasn’t his place, as short a time as they’d known each other. And wanting to change the subject, he reached for his chisel and the clock case again. “If you could have any clock in this shop, which one would it be?”

  Adeline’s face broke into a smile. “That’s an impossible question. Each one is beautiful in its own way.”

  This was unexpected; most people coming in to purchase a clock took little time to find something that caught their eye.

 
; She glanced over at the two tall floor clocks again. “I can’t believe how much I’ve learned here about things I never bothered to think about before.”

  “Like making pickles or milking a cow with your bare hands?” he asked.

  “Exactly.” She smiled. “I’ve learned so much from Rhoda . . . and Sylvia, too. It still blows my mind to think I have a sister.” Adeline folded her hands over her knees.

  Earnest chuckled. “Sylvia probably thinks the same.”

  “Well, I’m sure it hasn’t been easy having me around, not when Sylvie’s been the only girl.”

  Earnest was moved by her observation. “Sylvie’s heart is pure gold. I can see that she and Rhoda are doing all they can to make you feel at home.”

  “Which is amazing, if you think about it.” Adeline looked away, and Earnest thought she might have tears in her eyes. Then, glancing up at one of the nearby mantel clocks, she said, “Isn’t it about time for evening prayers?”

  “You’re right.” Earnest smiled.

  And together, they walked over to the main house.

  Following family prayers, after Mamma served everyone homemade ice cream and hermit cookies rich with cinnamon, chopped walnuts, and raisins, Sylvia asked Adeline if she’d like to see her room. “Since it’s presentable,” she said, leading the way upstairs. “I have a summer quilt to show ya.” Sylvia motioned for Adeline to enter the room and pointed out the pale blue, green, and lavender spread.

  “It’s different than any I’ve seen,” Adeline said, going to look at it.

  “Go ahead and sit on the bed, if you want.” Sylvia sat down, too. “Mamma and I worked on this for nearly half a year, a little at a time,” she told her.

  “I like it,” Adeline said, gently running her hand across the quilt. “You must be so proud of your handiwork.”

  “When I look at this Hearts and Nine Patch pattern, I remember all the hours talking with Mamma, listening to her tell stories about her childhood.”

  Adeline nodded. “I have happy memories with my mom, too, just not doing anything like this.” She paused a moment and leaned closer to inspect the quilt. “Your mother seems to thrive on making lovely things, doesn’t she? On baking, too.”

  Sylvia agreed. “I think it’s ’cause she knows her purpose and place in life, as most Amishwomen do.”

  “Your parents are such good people, Sylvie.” Adeline paused a moment. “I catch myself wondering what it would have been like to be raised by someone other than my mother and stepfather.” She stood then and went to the window to look out. “If I had been raised here in Amish farmland, I wouldn’t have been a very well-behaved Amish girl.”

  “You don’t know that,” Sylvia said from where she still sat on the bed. “If you’d grown up knowing our ways, you would’ve fit in. We all do, sooner or later. At least most of us, anyway.”

  Adeline turned to look at her, a question in her eyes. “Do you really think so?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  Coming to sit again beside her, Adeline asked, “Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you had been born to an Englisher?”

  “Nee, never.”

  “That’s amazing.” Adeline sighed audibly.

  “Why?”

  “In your place, I would . . . but I guess that’s just me. You have no frame of reference for a life outside the world of Hickory Hollow.”

  “That’s true, but I honestly don’t want anything else.”

  Adeline shook her head in apparent wonder, and Sylvia went to open her hope chest, at the foot of her bed. “Would ya like to see the things I’ve made or been given as gifts to use when I set up housekeeping?”

  “Are you sure?” Adeline looked surprised. “I mean, aren’t they rather personal?”

  “Every young woman I know has a hope chest like this, but jah, this one holds some things that are very special to me. I don’t mind showin’ you, though.” Sylvia opened the large oak chest.

  “Sure . . . thanks.” Adeline got up and knelt on the floor with her.

  This is a big step, thought Sylvia, knowing as she reached for the topmost gift that sharing her life like this with Adeline was the right thing to do.

  CHAPTER

  nineteen

  Titus’s mother made this for me,” Sylvia said as she showed Adeline the pretty dresser runner with colorful tulips embroidered at each end. “She gave it to me the morning Titus proposed.” Sighing inwardly, she recalled her recent conversation with Ella Mae.

  Adeline marveled at the workmanship. “I might be hesitant to use it,” she said, kneeling beside the hope chest next to Sylvia.

  “Well, I haven’t yet. I’ve been waiting till I marry.”

  Adeline nodded as Sylvia refolded the runner and reached for a set of white doilies her grandmother Riehl had tatted. Again, Adeline seemed awestruck by the handiwork, commenting on how very tiny and delicate the stitches were.

  There were also bedsheets and embroidered pillowcases, blankets, a set of bath towels and washcloths, quilted potholders, tablecloths, tea towels, more doilies for dressers, two handmade work aprons, and a large crocheted afghan. A large box of twelve sets of flatware, plus serving spoons, a meat fork, butter knife, and gravy ladle to match, completed the contents of the trunk.

  “There’s even more stored in the sewing room closet,” Sylvia said. “Pots and pans, a set of carving knives, and glassware, too. I don’t have room for everything here, as you can see.”

  “So have you already had a wedding shower?” Adeline asked, her expression puzzled.

  “Nee, these are just things Mamma and I have picked up over the years. Wedding showers happen much closer to the wedding day.” Sylvia felt glum in that moment.

  “Well, whenever the time comes, will I get a wedding invitation?” Adeline gave her a hopeful look.

  “Of course I’ll send you one,” Sylvia replied quietly.

  Adeline helped by handing Sylvia each item as she refilled her beloved hope chest. “Thanks for showing me your lovely things,” Adeline said. “And your room and the quilt, too.”

  Sylvia nodded, and they walked down the hall to the sewing room, where Adeline set to work on the squares for the wall hanging, using the running stitch Mamma had taught her.

  “Maybe you’ll add this to your own hope chest,” Sylvia suggested as she sat at the table with Adeline, repairing a hem on Mamma’s black apron.

  Adeline smiled. “Well, I don’t exactly have a hope chest, but the few things I have are stored at my grandparents’ place in Hilton Head,” she said. “My girlfriends plan to have a personal shower for me, as well as a wedding shower, closer to the time of the wedding. Of course, Brendon and I need to set up a wedding registry prior to that.”

  “You have much to look forward to,” Sylvia said, wondering what on earth a wedding registry was.

  Sylvia got up quickly the next morning since Thursday was the day she and Mamma usually cleaned house upstairs and down in preparation for the weekend. The Preaching service would be held this Sunday at Onkel Josh and Aendi Ruthann Yoder’s farmhouse. I should run over there and help with last-minute raking or weeding, she thought as she put on her green dress and matching apron. But she wouldn’t leave Adeline behind unless Mamma could spend time with her.

  After breakfast, Sylvia cleaned the entire upstairs, including her brothers’ bedrooms—dusting, wiping down the wide windowsills, dry mopping and then scrubbing the floors on all fours. Several of the windows needed washing on the inside, so she did that, too. And after the noon meal, she ran over to Aendi Ruthann’s, where someone was giving the horse stable a fresh coat of white paint as she arrived. It’s always an honor to host church, she thought, offering to tidy up the flower beds, as well as to sweep the walkways and porches.

  That evening, after family prayers, Sylvia sat with Adeline again while she worked on her squares for the wall hanging. Adeline seemed eager to talk about her mother’s parents, who had picked up the pieces for Adeline and Liam after
the passing of Adeline’s stepfather first and then their mom.

  “Do ya think you’ll end up livin’ near the ocean like they do?” Sylvia asked.

  “I hope so, at least someday, but Brendon has a very comfortable condo in Atlanta, so I’ll move to his place after we’re married. I’m hoping to land a job right away so that we can pay off our student loans.”

  Sylvia inquired about Adeline’s upcoming classes and, at one point when Adeline was describing her studies in great detail, Dat poked his head in. Seeing him there, Sylvia wondered how much he’d overheard but didn’t have to wonder long, because he moseyed in and asked Adeline about certain professors he had studied under twenty years ago. Lo and behold, two of the instructors were still teaching, much to Dat’s pleasure and amazement.

  It wasn’t long before Adeline and Dat were caught up in conversation, and Sylvia was glad she had some sewing of her own to do. But today, as the two of them talked together, she didn’t feel left out. Her perception of the relationship between her father and Adeline had changed in the last week, and she actually enjoyed seeing Dat connect with her. He has room in his heart for both of us.

  On Friday afternoon, Sylvia assessed the boys’ church clothes, as well as her own, making sure each garment was in good repair and hung up neatly. Mamma tended to Dat’s black for-good trousers, white shirt, and frock coat. Sylvia also polished every pair of black shoes, all the while thinking about seeing Titus tomorrow night.

  After Dat’s shop closed for the day, he washed the family carriage inside and out, and later shined up all the buggy windows, too, while Ernie checked the brake fluid and made sure the solar battery that powered the road lights was charged up.

  Mamma called Ernie in for a haircut, which she gave out on the back porch. Then, one after another, each of the boys got a trim for the Lord’s Day.

  That evening, Mamma’s parents arrived for supper, and Sylvia smiled at their reaction to meeting Adeline. Almost right away, Mammi Riehl made over Adeline’s light brown hair—saying how thick it was—and calling it short, even though fancy folk didn’t consider shoulder length short at all.