The Timepiece

by Beverly Lewis

  Her father nodded, a smile coming to his face. “That’s so good to hear, Sylvie. I’ve been keeping you in my prayers.”

  “Denki, Dat,” she said. “God’s answered your prayers. And Mamma’s, too.” She nodded and took a seat in the chair where Rhoda usually sat.

  “What would ya think if we invited Adeline for Thanksgiving?” Her eyebrows rose and she tilted her head, birdlike, waiting for his answer.

  “It sounds like you’d really like that.”

  Sylvia agreed with a smile. “Jah, but would you and Mamma?”

  Earnest contemplated it for a moment and realized that this would give all of them, but especially Sylvia, something joyful to anticipate, now that she and Titus wouldn’t be marrying. “I’ll talk it over with your Mamma.”

  Sylvia looked like she wanted to hug his neck. “I’d love to see Adeline again.”

  “Bear in mind she might already have plans,” he cautioned.

  “We won’t know until we ask,” she said happily.

  Earnest nodded. “If it’s the Lord’s will, it’ll all come together.”

  Rhoda opened the door and came out on the porch just then, and Sylvia scurried away, heading for the meadow, where the boys were rounding up the livestock for the night. A slight chill was in the air.

  “Sylvia wants to invite Adeline for Thanksgiving,” Earnest told his wife.

  “A delightful idea.” Rhoda was already smiling. “How do you think we should go about that?”

  He pondered it for a minute. “I think it might be nice if Sylvia’s the one to invite her.”

  Rhoda was quiet before saying, “Who would’ve thought the two of them would bond so.”

  “I wonder if they even realize it.”

  Laughing, Rhoda agreed. “It’s like they’re walkin’ round the edges of it. Makes me wonder how long before they notice how close they’ve become.”

  “Something good seems to be coming out of the chaos I caused.” Earnest looked at Rhoda and reached for her hand. “I hope you’re no longer worried about Sylvia.”

  Rhoda shook her head. “Honestly, I think God has some nice surprises ahead for her.”

  Earnest couldn’t agree more. “And just around the bend, too, the Lord willing.”

  CHAPTER

  twenty-eight

  Earnest hitched up the next morning to head over to Amos Kauffman’s, praying as he went. He glanced toward the house and saw Rhoda and Sylvia carrying wicker baskets of clothes across the yard. He went over and kissed Rhoda, then walked back to the carriage through grass slick with heavy dew. Autumn weather would be upon them in another week or so, but for now, Earnest was grateful for the mild morning, the clear azure sky as he turned onto Hickory Lane.

  He passed the familiar farms, Bishop John’s blacksmith shop, and farther down the road, the General Store, enjoying the fresh air and this time to reflect. Now that he actually looked forward to sharing his thoughts and concerns with the Lord, his prayers had become more frequent. I’m a new man, Earnest realized, thankful for the mercy he had been granted.

  When he turned into Amos’s lane, it was obvious that Eva had risen earlier than Rhoda and Sylvia—or had more help—because her washing was already hanging high on the pulley line. Earnest chuckled to himself, thinking he wouldn’t mention this to Rhoda—some of the womenfolk took a fair amount of unspoken pride in getting their washing out first.

  He found Amos in his big barn scooping feed into a bucket, and called to him so he wouldn’t be startled. “Hullo, Amos . . . how’s your morning?”

  “So far, so gut.” Amos finished his chore before waving Earnest over. “I was just thinkin’ I could use another set of hands.” He chuckled.

  “Well, here I am. What do you need?”

  Amos smiled as he handed him the bucket of feed. “I’ll get the hose for watering the livestock.”

  Amused, Earnest headed for the feeding trough to scatter the feed.

  “Titus took off for Big Valley a week ago,” Amos informed him.

  “Oh?”

  “One of my cousins needed help fillin’ silo, and Titus jumped at the chance.”

  “He’s a hardworkin’ young man,” Earnest said, recalling working alongside him in Maryland on the restoration of several storm-damaged barns. Undoubtedly, he needs to get away.

  “What brings ya?” Amos asked as he walked, dragging the dripping hose.

  Earnest took a quick breath. “I came to talk with you. You and I, we’ve always had a gut friendship . . . I’ve hated to see that fizzle.”

  Amos nodded as he caught Earnest’s gaze. “That we did. And there’s no reason why it can’t continue.”

  “I appreciate it.” Earnest went back to scoop more feed into the bucket and carried it back for the mules.

  “Over time, things’ll work themselves out for my son . . . and your daughter.”

  Over time? Earnest was baffled. What did he mean?

  “Time mends most wounds,” Amos went on. “And sometimes young couples just need to drift apart and learn more ’bout who they are as people. Individually they’ll end up all the better for it.”

  Not saying anything, Earnest realized Amos believed that Titus was ready to move on.

  “Sylvia’s a right perty girl,” Amos added. “I daresay she won’t be single for long.”

  “Well, that’s in the Lord’s hands.” Earnest felt he had to speak up, surprised at Amos’s casual comment. The man got what he wanted, he thought, trying not to go back on his apology.

  They worked together a while longer. Then Amos mentioned an errand he had to run, so Earnest helped him hitch up. The two men shook hands, and Earnest departed.

  On the ride back to the house, Earnest couldn’t decide if he was glad to know of Amos’s thoughts on Titus and Sylvia’s split, or if he’d rather not have known. But the words “She won’t be single for long” clanged in his ears.

  Between college lectures, Adeline read from the book of John on her phone, not to kill time, but to keep up with Earnest and his reading, thinking this was a cool way to connect across the miles. And in so doing, she had discovered ideas and themes she didn’t know existed, like how Jesus of Nazareth was the personification of God’s Word. She had never realized how much food for thought the Bible had to offer.

  I’ll ask Earnest more about this in my next letter.

  The following Saturday market day, Sylvia was happy to go with her father to help sell his beautiful clocks while Ernie and the younger boys helped Onkel Curtis fill silo. Sylvia noticed right away that, because of the popular fall tourist season, more customers than usual walked the aisles past Dat’s display. People also crowded around the homemade cider stand several market booths down from Dat’s clocks. Another stand featured candied apples of every imaginable kind—dipped in chocolate or in caramel and then rolled in crushed peanuts or M&Ms or sugar-coated cereal. When Sylvia took a break midmorning to stretch her legs, she walked toward the display of candied apples and was surprised to see Andy Zook standing in line. He waved to her.

  “Thought ya didn’t have a sweet tooth,” she joked, smiling.

  “Oh, these are for Michael and Susie—they much prefer sugar to salt. Unlike me, as you know.” Looking handsome in his purple long-sleeved shirt and black vest and black trousers, Andy motioned for her to join him in line. “I assume you’d like to purchase one?”

  “Not really, but now that I’m here . . .”

  They laughed together.

  “So I didn’t expect to see ya here today,” she said quietly. “But I’ve decided something.”

  He leaned in to hear amidst the hubbub. “I hope it’s what I’m thinkin’.”

  She nodded. “I’m ready to accept your supper invitation.”

  “Wunnerbaar.” Andy’s eyes twinkled. “Next Saturday evening?”

  She had to smile. “Sounds nice . . . I’ll look forward to it.”

  They discussed where to meet, and instead of mentioning where she had always met Titus
, she suggested farther up the road.

  Before Andy placed his order, he asked Sylvia which kind of apple she wanted, and she pointed to the plain caramel. “Denki,” she whispered.

  He reached for his wallet. “Anytime, Sylvie.” He flashed her a smile that made her feel as if he truly meant it.

  And for a split second, it almost felt to her like they were already dating.

  For Adeline, Saturdays were always a catch-up day on sleep, especially when classes were in session. Today she had slept in until nearly noon, having been out late at Brendon’s, where he had invited three other couples to play table games and eat takeout.

  Adeline had done her laundry for the week this afternoon, remembering how predictable Rhoda Miller’s weekly routine was with laundry always on Mondays, ironing on Tuesdays, mending on Wednesdays, and so on.

  Waiting now for her last load to dry, Adeline walked to the living room just around the corner and sat on the floor next to the coffee table, where she had laid out her Nine Patch wall hanging. Over the past two months, she had stitched the squares together by hand a little each week, doing the whipstitch Rhoda had taught her. There wasn’t much left to do before pressing the patches and then attaching the backing. It’ll be a nice reminder of my visit, she thought, moving her hand across the squares.

  She looked around at her living room, decorated to the hilt with unnecessary items—knickknacks, books, and candles, all dust collectors—wall art and too many throw pillows. “Life’s better when it’s simple,” she murmured, recalling the Millers’ sparsely furnished guest room. “Simple and homey, like homemade bread straight from the oven, fresh clothes drying on the line . . . and evening prayers.”

  Adeline knew that if she had the time and the know-how, she could find a pattern online for the quilting stitches and make a pretty recurring motif when she attached the back. She was eager to show Brendon the finished product. Momentarily, she thought of Sylvia’s hope chest and almost wished she had one, too. For the charm, if nothing else.

  Early the next morning, Sylvia waved good-bye to her parents as they headed off to the long day of Preaching, communion, foot washing, and the ordination at the home of the bishop’s eldest son, Hickory John Beiler. All in all, the landmark occasion would last nearly eight hours.

  Returning to the kitchen, Sylvia went to sit in the front room with her New Testament, reading aloud to her brothers. It had been Dat’s suggestion as a way to occupy their time and thoughts while the members-only meeting took place. Sylvia also had a letter to write—a Thanksgiving invitation to Adeline, something Dat had given her the go-ahead to do.

  After she read to the boys, she went to the kitchen to write the letter, while her brothers headed up the road to visit their male cousins at Onkel Josh and Aendi Ruthann’s.

  Sylvia let Adeline know that all of them would love to see her for Thanksgiving, but they would certainly understand if she already had plans. You’re always welcome here, and I would love to spend more time with you, Sylvia wrote, going on to tell Adeline that Andy Zook was taking her out for supper next Saturday.

  It’s funny, but all of a sudden, I’m ready to date again, although with Andy, I feel like I already know him well. It’s odd, really, how the few times we’ve been alone together, I’ve just felt so comfortable with him. I don’t remember it being quite like that when Titus and I first started dating, but maybe I’ve forgotten. It’s not a part of my past I think back on anymore.

  Sylvia shared that her parents were attending the fall communion service today.

  Because I didn’t join church as planned, I can’t be involved in the nomination process for Preacher Zook’s replacement, but I know Mamma and Dat will have some good ideas.

  Since you were here, we’ve put up hundreds of quarts of many different fruits and vegetables, as well as chow chow, applesauce, apple butter, and jams. It’s the busiest time of year, but soon things will quiet down so Mamma and I can let our breath out a bit. I’m most looking forward to knotting comforters with Aendi Hannah and quilting with other women around Mamie Zook’s large quilt frame. I’m not sure where she’ll set that up when she moves to her little Dawdi Haus soon, but knowing Mamie, she’s got it all figured out.

  But I’m rambling. I’ll be watching for your letter. We haven’t told the boys, but if you can make it, I know they’ll be excited, too.

  Till I hear from you again,

  Sylvia Miller

  Putting the pen down, Sylvia reread her letter to make sure she’d spelled each word correctly. She had to keep on her toes, writing to someone so well educated.

  When she was satisfied with her proofreading, Sylvia folded the letter and slipped it into an envelope, sealed it, and placed a stamp on it. Adeline should have this in a couple of days, Sylvia thought, hoping she might write back quickly.

  A stray thought crossed her mind. I wonder who’ll be selected by the lot. Just as quickly, however, she dismissed it. I’ll know soon enough.

  CHAPTER

  twenty-nine

  Earnest felt especially receptive to the sermon given by Bishop John this special day—the instruction from God’s Word. He thought again of how Rhoda read to him each night; her influence during their marriage had surely brought him to this place of peace. That, and her many faithful prayers.

  When the congregation turned to kneel, Earnest prayed for God’s will to be done in the drawing of the lot, which would occur following the communion service after the shared meal. He also prayed for wisdom and comfort for the man who would soon find the words from Proverbs sixteen on a slip of paper tucked in his Ausbund hymnal: The lot is cast into the lap; but the whole disposing thereof is of the LORD. Upon that discovery, he would be declared the new preacher, without any theological training or formal education. Instead, the ordained man would take as his guide all that he had witnessed in his years as a member, trusting God for the sermons he would preach to the People.

  At three o’clock that afternoon, Bishop John broke the loaf of bread at the approximate hour Christ was crucified that long-ago day, explaining how the life of a Christian must be like a grain of wheat that falls to the ground and dies, then springs to life with rain and sun. “Our old nature must perish, and the new man—our new nature in Christ—must grow and flourish,” Bishop John said, his voice strong and fervent.

  Thankful for divine grace and redemption, Earnest thought, I allowed my old nature to take over for too long.

  The man of God humbly moved through the congregation, first to the men’s side, offering a piece of bread to each one, and then across the room to the women’s side, where he did the same. Witnessing the bishop serve them in this way, Earnest couldn’t help but think of the verse in Mark that he had learned from his papa Zimmerman. For even the Son of man came not to be ministered unto, but to minister, and to give his life a ransom for many.

  Before passing the single cup of wine, Bishop John dutifully described the process of putting grapes into a winepress to remove all impurities and ensure the sweet juice that came forth was pure. “Just as the Lord’s blood cleansed us from our sins when He gave His life for us on the cross.”

  The shared cup was then passed from one person to the next, and Earnest drank from it before giving it to Elam Lapp, Samuel’s eldest, on his right.

  The foot-washing ceremony followed, with one person washing another man’s feet, and a woman washing a woman’s, everyone doing so as an act of humility. Afterward, the partners exchanged a holy kiss and offered each other a spoken blessing. Last of all, the congregation gave their offerings to Deacon Luke, who held the alms box as the People filed out of the temporary House of Worship only to line up again at the separate doors for men and women. It was the moment for each to whisper a nomination.

  The suspense was intense as Earnest waited with the other men, experiencing for the second time in his life the anticipation of the process of making a preacher, as the People called it.

  Who will the Lord appoint? he wondered, staying
in an attitude of prayer and reverence.

  While waiting for Dat and Mamma’s return, Sylvia read from Rules of a Godly Life in the front room and heard a bird singing his little heart out near the front porch. She smiled as she paged through to the section on patience, knowing she would surely need that virtue as she waited to be baptized into the fellowship of like-minded Amish. She recalled Dawdi Riehl once declaring at a family gathering that the word obedience was the most significant in the English language. If only I had followed through with my original plan to join church, she thought sadly.

  Ach, I mustn’t live in the past, she thought, keeping her finger in the book her Mamma had so loved to read, and now Dat seemingly did, too.

  Earnest whispered the name of his nominee as he passed by the slightly open doorway. Inside, the minister would write down names and tally the number of votes each received. Some men would get only a handful of votes, and others many more.

  When he’d had his turn, Earnest walked around the front of the house to sit and wait on the men’s side again, having nominated his brother-in-law, Curtis Mast, from the next farm over. Curtis was a devout man with a generous spirit and a kind heart.

  Once all the votes were counted, the top five candidates would be put into the lot. Five hymnals would be placed on a table in a private room—only one would contain the proverb written on a piece of paper. A man in good standing as a member would be chosen randomly to put a rubber band around each hymnal before all five were shuffled and carried into the large room where the congregation had re-gathered for the ordination service.

  Presently, Bishop John stood before the membership and stated the names of the five candidates for the lot, inviting those men to come forward to the table where the hymnals were lined up.

  The atmosphere was thick with expectation as the bishop asked each of the five to proclaim the cornerstone principles of the church. Earnest saw how pale in the face several of the men looked and remembered what Mahlon had told him years ago about carrying the heavy weight of the new responsibility. “My cross to bear,” he’d said. . . .