“Everything’s nearly ready—Lavina, Connie, and I made the potato salad this mornin’, and the baked beans, too.” Eva smiled. “Hope ya like chocolate cake.”
“Ach, who doesn’t?”
Together, they laughed softly, and when Titus came back from the stable, he leaped up the porch steps and stood there, fanning his face with his straw hat, his bangs fluttering in the breeze. “Sounds like yous are getting better acquainted,” he said, hazel eyes shining.
Without skipping a beat, Eva suggested he take Sylvia down to the pond while she got the table set up “out yonder.” She bobbed her head toward the white gazebo.
“Oh, why don’t we help ya?” Sylvia proposed, eager to assist yet also wanting some time with just Titus.
But Eva insisted they let her and her daughters get everything ready, so Titus motioned for Sylvia to follow him. Eva nodded and smiled approvingly as she rose and headed inside.
“Mamm has spoken,” Titus whispered with a smile.
“Well, I like her,” Sylvia said as she and Titus walked down the sloping lane.
“What a coincidence.” He chuckled. “I do, too!”
Sylvia suppressed a laugh.
“It was her idea to have ya come over for part of the day. Mamm thought we needed time to talk.” He paused a moment. “I would’ve come to get ya, but I knew I’d be hauling and stackin’ hay in the barn with Dat this mornin’. I hope ya understand.”
So, today was his Mamm’s idea, she thought, feeling a twinge of disappointment before brightening again. Of course, the important thing was that she was here with her beau.
Sylvia nodded, enjoying the fragrance of the nearby redbud bushes and the sun glistening on the pond. “There’s always farm work to be done,” she answered.
His fingers brushed against hers, and she sensed he wanted to reach for her hand, though she guessed that would have to wait till they were out riding in his courting buggy after Singing tomorrow evening.
Leisurely, they walked halfway around the pond before coming upon the downy ducklings Eva had talked about. Crouching on the path, Titus talked softly in Deitsch to the tiny creatures pecking at seeds in the grass. The ducklings’ parents stood guard nearby, the mother particularly watchful.
“See that?” Titus whispered, glancing up at Sylvia. “You’ll be just like her . . . a caring and kind Mamma to our children one day.”
Sylvia’s heart beat faster at the thought as he rose to his feet.
“I love you,” he said, his face full of affection. “And more than anything, I want ya for my bride, Sylvie.”
Prior to talking with his mother on the porch, she’d wondered what Titus might have in mind today, but she hadn’t imagined he would propose here, where the pond lapped against its grassy bank and the trees swayed so gracefully, as if nodding in approval. The moment nearly took her breath away.
She accepted his extended hand. “I love ya, too, Titus.”
“Whew!” Titus exclaimed, pretending relief as he stepped closer. He didn’t kiss her, but his eyes were fixed on her mouth. “You’ll make me the happiest fella ever,” he said as they fell into step again.
She could scarcely speak. It had been one thing to dream about this moment, but it was quite another to hear Titus’s words just now.
“Would ya like to talk with your parents to see what day in November suits for our wedding?” he asked as they strolled along, a light breeze coming off the pond.
She agreed and couldn’t help but smile as he stopped walking and lifted her hand to his lips. “As far as where we’ll stay at first, I realize your room would be available to us, but maybe we should talk things over with my Mamm first. She has some other ideas.”
“Other ideas? Like what?”
“Well, to give us more privacy, Mamm thinks we should stay here after the wedding, during the first few weeks,” Titus said, “when our kinfolk drop by with wedding presents an’ all.”
Sylvia briefly wondered if Titus had cleared everything with his Mamm, but she dismissed that. It’s good to marry a man who loves his mother, she thought. After all, every bride had to make adjustments when leaving her family and childhood home. I’m willing to do this for our love.
Just then the dinner bell sounded, and Titus quickened his steps. Sylvia matched his pace as they headed up toward the house and the gazebo, though she was somewhat reluctant to leave the beautiful pond and pebbled path where she and her beloved had just agreed to wed. She felt so fortunate to be marrying into such a devout family—Amos Kauffman’s reputation amongst the People had few equals.
We’ll be uniting two well-respected Hickory Hollow families, she thought happily.
CHAPTER
Four
Rhoda noticed an extra carriage parked outside her sister Hannah’s house as she walked up the lane. “Wonder who’s here,” she murmured, realizing now that it might not suit Hannah for her to stop by, after all. On the other hand, if one of their other sisters was visiting, they could all enjoy a delicious treat together. Through the years, Rhoda had come to learn that a soft snickerdoodle had a way of lifting one’s spirits. The taste might not last long, but for those brief moments, people tended to forget their hurt. A piece of chocolate works wonders, too, she thought, smiling as she knocked on the screen door.
Standing there, she could see the kitchen shades were pulled down to the windowsills, and she could hear soft talking coming from within. Rhoda didn’t want to listen too closely, but it sounded like Ella Mae Zook might be with Hannah, and if so, what ideal company. The Wise Woman of Hickory Hollow had a true gift for bringing cheer to any gathering, large or small.
Not wanting to simply walk in, Rhoda knocked a bit harder. And soon here came Ella Mae herself to the door, as straight and tall as if she were decades younger. “Hullo, Ella Mae,” Rhoda said as the older woman let her in. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”
“Ach, your sister will be glad to see ya, dearie,” Ella Mae said, a smile stretching across her heavily wrinkled face. “And so am I.”
Rhoda offered her arm to Ella as they walked into the large kitchen, where Hannah sat holding a pretty floral teacup over its matching saucer. “I brewed some of my homemade peppermint tea,” Ella Mae said as she took a seat at the table across from Hannah. “Would ya care for some, too?” she asked.
“Denki, but I’m a bit warm from the walk here.” Rhoda set down her basket of snickerdoodles and patted her sister’s shoulder before sitting next to her. “I’ve been thinking ’bout ya,” Rhoda said quietly, relieved to see Hannah drinking some tea when she’d had so little appetite. “Prayin’ too.”
Hannah glanced at her. “Honestly, I’ve felt quite ill,” she said in a near whisper. “I’m a little better today . . . but it’s so hard.”
Ella Mae folded her thin hands on the table, her skin speckled with age. Her pure white hair was pulled into a tidy bun beneath an organdy Kapp. “Why, sure it’s hard,” Ella Mae said to Hannah. “Your wee babe was a part of you and always will be.”
“I fear I’ll never carry a baby to term,” Hannah said, stopping to wipe her eyes. “And if not, what then? My husband will have no sons to help him around the farm, and I’ll have no daughters to—”
“Hannah, dear,” said Ella Mae, “let’s take things one day at a time.”
Sighing, Hannah gave in to tears.
Rhoda moved near to comfort her sister, slipping an arm around her waist. And for the longest time, the two of them sat there like that while Ella Mae closed her eyes as though she was praying.
When Hannah finally did speak, she admitted that she was holed up in the house not only out of sadness, but because there would be mothers with babies everywhere she might go. “And little ones trailin’ along.” She shook her head. “Not sure how I can get past this, not this time.”
Ella Mae’s small eyes glistened. “Your heart’s broken wide open. . . . I know the feelin’ all too well.” She began to reveal slowly that she, too, had lost a baby to misc
arriage. “’Twas ever so long ago, but even now not a day goes by that I don’t think of him.” Here she managed a faint smile. “I was never told, but I feel sure that my little one was a boy. I think of him a-waitin’ for me in Gloryland, up there with his Dat.”
Having never struggled with her own pregnancies, Rhoda could only imagine what her precious sister was going through, and she was thankful for Ella Mae’s willingness to share about her own past heartache.
Hannah glanced toward the ceiling, her chest rising and falling. “After ya lost him, did ya feel like you couldn’t put one foot in front of the other?”
“For months, I did,” Ella Mae said. “It was one of the most difficult times in my life, quite honestly.”
Hannah nodded. “And I can’t understand it . . . but my arms hurt terribly, too. It makes no sense.”
“Maybe this’ll give ya hope,” Ella Mae said. “In time, I delivered healthy, full-term babies, and I believe you will, too.” She glanced at Rhoda. “Your sister and I will pray the Lord gives you the desire of your heart, won’t we, Rhoda?”
Agreeing, Rhoda offered a small smile.
“In fact, let’s do that together right now,” Ella Mae said, folding her wrinkled hands and bowing her head, leading out in a prayer. It was quite irregular to do so, but the prayer appeared to bring some calm to Hannah.
Afterward, Rhoda reached to open her basket and placed the plate of snickerdoodles near Hannah, who still looked pale. But it was obvious that her sister wasn’t interested in a cookie, though she did glance at them. Then, unexpectedly, she excused herself to leave for the small bathroom around the corner from the kitchen.
“What more can we do for her?” Rhoda asked Ella Mae quietly.
Ella Mae rubbed her high forehead. “Her body and her emotions seem to be in equal turmoil . . . only time and God’s compassion will comfort her. She’ll need time to fully grieve, just as any of us must mourn a dear one’s passing.”
Rhoda believed that, as well, but she wished her sister didn’t have such a long road to travel. “Perhaps you already know that Hannah wants to keep mum about what happened,” she told Ella Mae.
“’Tis understandable.” The Wise Woman looked toward the window, where thick, gnarled vines of blooming wisteria pushed so close they almost looked like they were anxious to come inside. Ella Mae turned back to regard Rhoda. “Do any of your children still have a teddy bear?” she asked.
Curious about the sudden turn in conversation, Rhoda said, “Let’s see, I think Calvin and Tommy still have the one they shared. Why do you ask?”
“Hannah said her arms ache . . . makes me wonder if holding something the size of a baby might help ease her pain.”
Rhoda was dumbfounded at this notion, though she thought the idea worth a try. “I’ll go an’ buy her one if need be,” she promised.
Anything for my poor sister!
Sylvia was engrossed in Titus’s talk about his preacher father, a born farmer. She and Titus were enjoying their picnic beneath the shelter of the gazebo, just the two of them. Mistakenly, Sylvia had assumed Titus’s family would be joining them—or perhaps just his Mamm, she thought humorously—but everyone else remained in the house.
Titus set down his tall glass of iced tea. “Like many men round here, my father loves the hard work of farmin’, especially harvesting the reward for his labor. Even in his early teens, Dat knew he wanted to be a crop farmer and also raise chickens, not run a dairy operation. He’s always known that farmin’s his calling in life.”
Sylvia smiled. “It’s helpful for a man to know how he wants to earn a livin’,” she agreed, “even though it seems some of die Youngie don’t know till close to when they join church.” She shared that her own father had come to Amish farmland in search of a different sort of life. “He was real happy to find an apprenticeship as a clockmaker, but I suppose you know that already, ain’t?”
Finishing his barbequed chicken, Titus nodded. “My Dat remembers the week yours showed up here,” he said with a grin. “I guess it was quite a time. The ministerial brethren were scratching their heads that a Yankee fella wanted nothin’ to do with the world he was brought up in. Joked that he must be runnin’ from something.”
Sylvia laughed. To hear Titus tell it, it was like her father had dropped out of the sky.
“Your Dat’s an inspiration to me,” Titus added. “I’ve always enjoyed workin’ alongside him, haying and loading the bales into the hayloft each summer.”
Sylvia smiled as they finished their private meal, and it was almost as though his Mamm knew they were ready for dessert, because in a few minutes, she came marching up the steps of the gazebo with a large piece of cake for each of them. “S’pose you’re ready for something sweet,” Eva said cheerfully, her eyes shining with love for Titus and fondness for Sylvia, too. Smiling and waiting, Eva stepped back and watched them take a first bite.
“Oh, it’s so moist and light,” Sylvia exclaimed. “It’s wunnerbaar-gut!”
“Say, we should have this cake for the youth Ascension Day picnic,” Titus suggested. “What do ya think, Sylvie?”
“Well, if your Mamm’s willing to share her secret for making a cake this light, I’d be glad to bake a couple, sure.”
Eva was already nodding her head, a sparkle still in her pretty blue eyes. “I’ll jot down the recipe if you’d like.”
“Would I ever!” Sylvia thanked her, and Eva scurried back down the gazebo steps and toward the house to do just that.
Titus waited till his mother was out of earshot. “Mamm suspects this is more than just a date.”
Surely she knows what happened down at the pond. . . .
Sylvia felt humbled that both Titus and Eva treated her like one of them. To think that she, the daughter of a former outsider, was so welcomed by this pious family!
CHAPTER
Five
Once Sylvia returned home and realized Mamma must still be visiting Aunt Hannah, she decided to make good use of her time and go over to dust Dat’s shop, especially his work area. With her father away from the house, too—the spring wagon was still gone from the carriage shed—now seemed to be the perfect opportunity. I won’t be in his way.
She took a clean dust cloth from the kitchen pantry and made her way across the back porch, thinking of the momentous events of the day. I’m engaged to marry Titus Kauffman! she thought, not even trying to hide her smile.
Slipping inside the shop, she heard the gentle ticking of a new grandfather clock and several pretty mantel chime clocks—a pleasant backdrop. She breathed in the familiar scent, something her father jokingly referred to as “the aroma of time.”
She opened the door to his workspace and began to dust, being careful to lift and replace things right back where she found them. It would never do to misplace one of her father’s special tools.
Then, glancing at the shelves, she brought the sturdy wood chair over and stood on that to reach the top shelf with the tinderbox, going lightly over her father’s one and only heirloom.
As she dusted, a tiny key flew off the shelf and fell to the floor. “Ach,” she murmured, displeased with herself. Then, wondering if it might be the key to the old tinderbox, she stared at the floor where the tiny key lay, her head in a whirl.
Moments passed as she looked now at the brass box, passed down through generations of Dat’s family. She remembered the times she’d yearned to see its contents—a mere child then. Now she was engaged to marry, a young woman who had put away childish things. So why did she still long to lift the lid and peek inside? If only for a second . . .
She argued with herself. Dat keeps it locked for a reason.
But her curiosity was like a boiling caldron threatening to spill over into action.
Walk away, she told herself. Even so, she wondered why the key was in plain sight today, when she’d never seen it before.
“No one has to know,” she whispered, still standing on the chair, as she reached to bring the tinderb
ox down from the shelf, wondering if it might already be unlocked.
Cautiously, she tried the lid, lifting it a fraction of an inch before she stopped. Struggling with the memory of Dat’s warning never to snoop inside, she closed the lid, staring at the box all the while.
Then, losing the battle, she pulled the lid open again, this time completely. To her surprise, she found a boy’s-size Yankees ball cap, and feeling emboldened, she stepped down from the chair and set the box on the worktable. Carefully, she unrolled the fabric behind the cap’s bill and found what looked like a plastic-coated ball game ticket. She removed the cap and ticket and placed them beside the tinderbox, surprised to find still more items—a keychain with an hourglass dangling from it, a high school diploma, a crocheted red Christmas ornament, and letters and photographs of people she did not recognize. She took the time to look at each picture, pausing at the sight of a young girl with a heart-shaped face who somewhat resembled her father.
Who’s this? she wondered.
Setting the photos aside, she looked in the very bottom of the tinderbox and found something wound in soft cotton cloths—something quite hard, by the feel of it. She glanced over her shoulder, suddenly afraid Dat might walk in and find her snooping, something she’d never dreamed of doing since that long-ago day.
Her heart pounding, she lifted the lump out of the tinderbox and unwrapped the cloths. Again, she looked behind her. What would Dat say if he caught her? She was intruding on his privacy, yet her curiosity continued to pull hard.
The cloth fell away to reveal a sparkling gold timepiece. It was the most attractive pocket watch she had ever seen. Where had it come from?
Still fearful of being discovered, she quickly lifted the large watch out of its padded nest and stared at the exquisite face, its black numerals crisp and clear and the background as spotless as new-fallen snow.
Why doesn’t Dat use this? It’s a bit fancy, but he could carry it in his pocket like some of the other menfolk.
The Tinderbox Page 3