The Tinderbox

by Beverly Lewis

Turning it around to look at the back, she found an inscription. To Earnest, with all my love, Rosalind.

  “Rosalind?” she murmured.

  Sylvia pondered this, wondering if it might have been a special gift from her Dat’s only sister. She recalled hearing that she had died as a young teen. If so, could a girl that age have afforded a remarkable timepiece like this? Or could it have been purchased by her father’s parents on behalf of his dying sister?

  “Ach,” Sylvia groaned, wishing she’d paid closer attention to the few instances Dat had talked about his sole sibling—one of the only relatives he’d mentioned. Did he ever mention her name? Sylvia tried to remember. Was it Rosalind?

  She thought it strange that her father rarely spoke of his family. She recalled that it was Mamma who’d told her and the boys that Dat’s parents had passed away years ago.

  I certainly can’t ask Dat ’bout this, or he’ll know I was prying.

  The neigh of a horse startled her. And, realizing that her father might appear at any moment, she quickly rewrapped the pocket watch and placed it back in the tinderbox, with the other items on top, the way she’d found them.

  Then, closing the lid, Sylvia stood on the chair again to return the tinderbox to its rightful spot on the shelf. She hopped down, picked up the dustcloth, and finished redding up the lower shelves.

  Surely Mamma would remember Dat’s sister’s name, she thought. Yet how to bring it up without letting on what she’d done?

  Going out on the porch, Sylvia gave the dustcloth several slaps against the rail, her mind still fixated on the inscription. If it was from his sister, why inscribe the words all my love?

  Once back inside the house, Sylvia ran upstairs and hurried to her parents’ bedroom. For a moment, she stood in the doorway, scanning the room, her gaze falling on the beautiful blanket chest Dat had given Mamma years ago, a piece made by Preacher Mahlon Zook . . . and the beautiful three-chime clock on the bureau, too. Dat loved to give Mamma extravagant gifts around this time of year to mark their engagement, something she’d never heard of other husbands doing amongst the People.

  She drew in a long breath and pondered again the strange contents of the tinderbox, especially the timepiece. Someone must have loved her father very much to give him such an expensive gift.

  Nagging questions rolled through Sylvia’s mind while she started supper for Mamma and Tommy went out to milk Flossie. Later, when the family gathered to eat the evening meal, she felt so preoccupied she could scarcely focus when Dat talked about having gone earlier to help Preacher Zook by doing his barn chores.

  Sylvia studied his face; he seemed ever so worried about his friend. But the way he spoke seemed different somehow . . . or was it just the way she felt that colored everything?

  For the life of her, Sylvia wanted to ask right out who the mysterious Rosalind was. And why on earth was Dat hiding such an expensive watch and all the other interesting items?

  After Rhoda cut Earnest’s and Tommy’s hair outside, and they’d had family prayers, Earnest headed upstairs to bed. Rhoda didn’t let the early hour bother her, since he’d mentioned feeling tuckered out and not to worry.

  She and Sylvia dished up homemade ice cream for the boys and washed up again before Sylvia took herself out for a walk, leaving Rhoda to finish redding up the kitchen.

  She recalled how Hannah had eventually reached for a snickerdoodle prior to Rhoda’s departure today. Ella Mae had also enjoyed a cookie or two, remarking that sometimes a little dose of sugar was helpful. I couldn’t have said it better myself, Rhoda thought before breathing a prayer for her sister.

  She again considered Ella Mae’s suggestion of a teddy bear for Hannah to hold and rock. So, when the boys went to the barn to do their chores, she headed upstairs to look in Calvin and Tommy’s shared bedroom closet. On the shelf above the hanging clothes, she found the soft brown bear she’d purchased a few years ago. Reaching for it, she held it near, walking around her youngest sons’ room and remembering when her own youngsters were just infants. The reality of Hannah’s plight hit hard. She could not imagine the loss of any one of them!

  Rhoda hoped that the cuddly bear might bring not only solace to Hannah but healing, too, in time.

  I’ll just borrow this bear for a while, she thought, taking it downstairs and placing it on the wooden bench next to the kitchen table.

  Rhoda sat down and began to add her thoughts to a long circle letter from four other women named Rhoda, all with the same October twentieth birthdate. Several years ago, a woman named Rhoda Kinsinger from Somerset, Pennsylvania—the second oldest of all Amish settlements in the United States—had announced an invitation in an Amish newspaper to start up a circle letter amongst other Rhodas who shared her birthday. Three other women responded, including one from Maryland, the state where Earnest’s mother’s parents had lived decades ago. Earnest had told her how much he had always enjoyed his Old Order Mennonite grandparents, whom he’d spent time with a few summers as a youth, and one wintry week during Christmas vacation. Over the years, they’d even taught him to speak some Pennsylvania Dutch, which had helped him pass his Proving time here more quickly. Even though both Papa and Grammy Zimmerman were deceased years before he came to Hickory Hollow, Earnest had insisted that they had been a big influence on his becoming a convert to the Amish church.

  She fiddled with her pen and thought back on the early days of their marriage, back when Earnest had first talked so glowingly of his mother’s parents. Rhoda had often wondered why he seemed so closely linked to them, perhaps even closer than to his parents, but she’d never asked. It’s been years since he’s mentioned them at all, she thought, hearing the tread of footsteps moving from one end of the upstairs bedroom to the other, and then back again.

  Is Earnest pacing? She stopped writing to listen. Soon, she heard the steady creak of the rocking chair against the floor. Her husband certainly seemed restless. Should I go up to him?

  Keeping an ear out in case Earnest called to her, she continued to write, sharing with the other Rhodas a little about her past week, the kinds of ordinary things one might share with a neighbor.

  She was close to signing off when Sylvia wandered into the kitchen, her face red and perspiring. “Well, goodness, were you out runnin’?”

  Sylvia shook her head. “Just walkin’ fast.”

  “Are you all right?”

  Her daughter frowned momentarily, then seemingly shrugged off the question and went to get a tumbler down from the cupboard. Without turning around, she reached for the faucet and ran cold water. “Dat’s sister died real young, jah?” Sylvia asked abruptly.

  Rhoda wondered what had prompted this question. “Well, she was only thirteen . . . your brother Adam’s age. A rare form of cancer took her.” Rhoda found it surprising that Sylvia had asked about Earnest’s only sibling. “It was the saddest thing. It wasn’t long after that their mother developed a heart condition.”

  “Dat doesn’t talk much ’bout his family, does he?” Sylvia stood at the sink, letting the water run.

  “Well, he used to every now and then, but that was back before you and your brothers were born. Guess maybe it’s hard for him . . . sometimes a loss does that to a person.”

  Sylvie turned off the water. “What was his sister’s name?” she asked, still at the sink. “I’ve forgotten.”

  Rhoda placed stamps on her envelopes. “Charlene, but she went by Charlie.”

  Suddenly, Sylvia’s tumbler dropped onto the floor, splattering water everywhere. “Ach, I’m sorry, Mamma.”

  “Ain’t breakable—no need to fret,” Rhoda said, wondering just what had come over Sylvia.

  CHAPTER

  Six

  Early the next morning, Earnest slipped over to his shop after he and Ernie watered the livestock and let them out to pasture. His sleep had been sporadic, and he required solace before this Lord’s Day breakfast with the family. His clock shop was the best place for that.

  He was wishing
there was time to visit Mahlon before the Preaching service when a glint of light caught his eye. He looked closer and noticed a small key lying on the floor back near the workbench, nearly invisible.

  A sudden rush of panic blew through him. Get ahold of yourself, he thought, shaking his head and trying to think rationally. He must have dropped it while looking inside his grandfather’s tinderbox recently. Simple as that.

  Even so, a deep groan echoed within him. I’ve never been so careless. . . .

  He picked up the key and placed it on his worktable. Then, reaching for the tinderbox, he lifted it down from the shelf, looked inside, and found the prized remnants from his modern life all in place. He removed everything to get to the bottom item and noticed the cloth wrapping had been done up differently than before.

  His heart dropped, and fearing the worst, he removed the pocket watch. Finger smudges clearly marked the clock’s face.

  Sylvia was excited, this being the start of baptismal classes for her and the eight other candidates. Today’s instruction was scheduled to take place upstairs at Elam and Annie Lapp’s farmhouse, the hosting family for the Lord’s Day Preaching service. During the time of congregational singing downstairs, Sylvia and the other candidates followed the ministers to the Abrot, the counsel room—usually Annie’s big sewing room. Sylvia was happy to see Titus among the young men present.

  As they gathered, the bishop greeted each one and encouraged them in their decision to follow the Lord in holy baptism at the end of the weeks of studying the eighteen articles from the Dordrecht Confession of Faith. Bishop Beiler, Preacher Kauffman, and Deacon Peachey took turns admonishing them to be diligent in searching the Scriptures that were the basis for the articles.

  All the while, Sylvia listened attentively, taking in the teaching with an open heart.

  ———

  Earnest listened as Preacher Amos Kauffman stood tall for the morning’s opening sermon, like a statue in black, except for his crisp white shirt. As was his custom, Amos rarely made eye contact with the congregation, largely staring at the back wall as he spoke. Their older minister, Mahlon Zook, had always paced while delivering his sermons, his tone as solemn and reverent as Amos’s. Years ago, Mahlon had confided in Earnest that, while preaching without notes or an outline made him nervous, it also made him rely all the more on the Holy Spirit. Earnest had never envied his friend’s ordination as a minister, knowing all too well from Mahlon the burden he carried for the flock . . . and earning the trust of the People, too. His cross to bear for these many years now, thought Earnest of his dying friend.

  Amos Kauffman continued, his demeanor increasingly serious. “Never forget that we’re pilgrims just a-passin’ through on this earthly journey,” he said, emphasizing the importance of adhering to the Ordnung during one’s life. “At all costs, we must avoid the world, the flesh, and the devil and keep our eyes fixed on the Lord Gott and what is right in His eyes,” he said. “Do not yield to temptation.”

  To think this man’s eldest son is courting my daughter. Earnest recalled how Sylvia had told him.

  Struggling to refocus on the sermon, Earnest shifted his weight on the wooden bench, where he sat next to Mahlon’s brother Edwin and Edwin’s two married sons, James and Caleb. The bishop’s married sons, Hickory John, Levi, and Jacob, sat nearby. Oddly, this sermon seemed longer than its usual thirty minutes, and Earnest found himself fidgeting even more. He tuned out Amos’s admonitions, brooding until a cool sweat broke out on his upper lip.

  In due time, Amos finished and the People knelt for silent prayer. Afterward, while Deacon Luke read the twelfth chapter of Romans, Earnest stood with the congregation.

  “‘Be of the same mind one toward another. Mind not high things, but condescend to men of low estate,’” Luke read in German from the large black Biewel. “‘Be not wise in your own conceits.’”

  I am a dreadful man, thought Earnest, wishing to exit the service as quickly as possible.

  Before the fellowship meal of homemade bread with various spreads, pickles and cheese, celery and carrot sticks, pies and cookies and plenty of coffee, Sylvia helped her mother put out the dishes and silverware, enjoying the process. To Sylvia’s delight, Eva Kauffman was also one of the helpers, which made it especially fun.

  At the seating for die Youngie, Sylvia joined five of her girl cousins, happy to see her very closest ones, Alma and Jessie Yoder, ages nineteen and seventeen respectively, and to hear about the brunettes’ busy week.

  Soon, though, her mind wandered to Dat’s deceased sister, Charlie, and she wished she’d had the chance to meet her. Sylvia felt the same about her father’s parents, both taken from him within the space of months around his sophomore year of college.

  Sylvia was tempted to ponder the pocket watch and its inscription, but she pushed it out of her mind and glanced toward the fellows at the opposite table. She caught Titus’s eye, her heart speeding up at the thought of riding with him in his open carriage later tonight, after Singing.

  Our first date as an engaged couple, she thought, wondering if Titus would kiss her for the first time. Or would he wait till their wedding day?

  The late-afternoon sun filtered in through Sylvia’s bedroom windows, casting shadows on the floor and on her bed quilt—the Heart and Nine Patch pattern she so admired. Amongst happy chatter, she and Mamma and aunts Hannah and Ruthann, along with Alma and Jessie, had all helped to stitch it up on her sixteenth birthday. They hadn’t been able to completely finish the quilt in one session, but it had been a memorable day just the same. When her father had seen the nearly finished quilt, he’d remarked on the striking colors—reds, yellows, and greens. “It’s perfect,” he’d said. “Like you, Sylvie.”

  She glanced around the room, thinking what it might be like to share it with Titus in the early days of their coming marriage, but Titus’s mother had other plans, which was probably all right, considering Sylvia’s room was bookended on either side by her brothers’.

  Eager to attend the evening’s Singing, Sylvia took great care to undo her hair bun and brush many strokes before putting it back in the tidiest bun possible, prior to leaving with Ernie. Next year, Ernie would be attending Singings, too, but for now he seemed glad to give her a ride there, making it possible for her beau to bring her home later that night.

  “You seem mighty happy, sister,” Ernie said as they rode together in Dat’s gray buggy.

  “Do I, now?” she said, not letting on why. Too soon to tell him about my engagement, she thought, enjoying the ride and taking in the masses of apricot rhododendron blossoms near the shady stream banks. I should tell Dat and Mamma first, she decided.

  “I’ve been thinking a lot ’bout Preacher Zook, hoping he might surprise everyone and rally to recovery.” Ernie glanced at her. “I hate the thought of losin’ him.”

  “I know how ya feel, Ernie. He’s such a kindhearted man.”

  “And Dat . . . what’ll he do without his friend? The man’s nearly like a father to him.”

  “We can pray that God will heal him,” Sylvia suggested.

  “Sick as he is, I don’t see how that’s possible. The cancer’s in its final stage, Dat says.”

  “The Lord’s ways are not ours” was all she could think to reply.

  “You sound like Mamma,” Ernie said with a grin, the driving lines slack in his hands.

  She smiled, but he didn’t look her way. “Preacher’s illness is hard on all of us,” she assured him. “I couldn’t help but notice the anxious expressions durin’ Preaching this morning.”

  “Jah.” Ernie nodded. “Preacher Zook hasn’t been at church for months now.”

  “I miss his sermons,” Sylvia said, wishing her brother was old enough to accompany her to the Singing tonight. The fellowship and happy blend of voices and refreshments would surely lift his spirits.

  That evening, Rhoda and Earnest and the boys went over to visit her parents once Ernie returned from taking Sylvia to Singing. The dairy farm wher
e Rhoda had grown up was one of the largest around—so large that Rhoda’s father had divided up portions of the land amongst his four married sons, leaving eighty acres of his own for grazing and cropland.

  Looking out past the hayfield, Rhoda could see the neighbor’s small herd of beef cows grazing in the meadow across the road. On this side, the field steepened to the north, where it ran up to a wooded area her father and Earnest had used for turkey hunting nearly every November since Earnest’s arrival in Lancaster County. She remembered their first Thanksgiving together as man and wife; at the time, she’d been stunned by the impressive size of the bird he’d bagged.

  Today, while Adam, Calvin, and Tommy played outside on the two tire swings their Dawdi kept for their frequent visits, Rhoda talked with her mother in the kitchen. Earnest and her father and Ernie sat in the front room on the cane-backed sofa, waiting for popcorn and meadow tea to be served.

  “I’ve been over to see Hannah quite a lot here lately,” Rhoda’s Mamm said quietly. “Honestly, I’d hoped she and Curtis might stop by today.”

  Rhoda nodded as she poured cold meadow tea into tumblers while her mother finished popping the corn. “Not surprised, really.”

  “Well, I wondered if Curtis might be able to get her out of the house for a short time.” Mamm sighed and looked serious. “At some point, she’ll have to push herself to be around people again.”

  “Could be she thought there’d be little ones here today. She’s real sensitive to that now.”

  Mamm frowned. “Surely not when they’re her own nephews and nieces.”

  “Well, just think ’bout it. It’s only been a little more than a week.”

  Mamm rubbed the back of her neck. “I do hope an’ pray something can be done to cheer her up. She’s yearnin’ so for a baby.”

  Rhoda shared that she had taken a teddy bear over to Hannah early that morning, before Preaching. It had been a chance to look in on her sister, as well. “The bear’s a poor replacement, but Hannah’s arms ache somethin’ awful for her baby.” She went on to say that Ella Mae had thought it worth a try. “Apparently some Englischers sell special bears made for that very purpose.”