The Tinderbox

by Beverly Lewis

“Well, this needs to be the end of it,” Mamma announced.

  Dat folded his hands on the table, glancing at Sylvia. “More harm could come to our family if we don’t schtill sei,” he said, an anxious look on his countenance.

  Keep still, thought Sylvia, her shoulders knotting up. She placed the dishes on the table, her hands trembling.

  Sylvia sat through dinner at noon with her family. With every speck of her, she was resolute about being strong for her mother, which just now meant sitting there and making herself eat the tender veal cutlet and mushrooms, creamy mashed potatoes and thick gravy, and perfectly seasoned string beans with ham bits, despite the fact that she had absolutely no appetite. But for her brothers’ sake, she did not let on.

  If Sylvia had allowed herself to give in to her pained astonishment and anger, she would have much preferred to run upstairs and cry. But this was Mamma’s cross to bear, not hers. Even so, Sylvia would do whatever it took to bring solace to her mother. It was a promise she was making to herself even as she forked her string beans and ate them.

  After the meal, Earnest stood out on the back porch, questioning his decision to tell Sylvia anything, painful as it had obviously been for her. The delicious food Rhoda had gone to great lengths to make had held little appeal, and he had felt only sadness with every glance at Sylvia.

  Presently, he leaned against the porch railing, watching Lily grazing in the meadow. Hearing a rumble of thunder, he saw the mare charge back toward the stable, galloping faster than he’d ever known her to do.

  Earnest had work to do, but he’d lost interest. His first concern was for his family, as it must be. I have to shake this off, keep myself going, for as long as Rhoda permits me to stay. . . .

  He heard the mail truck stop out front, so he made his way down the porch steps to the driveway. When he carried in the mail, Earnest went without thinking straight into the house, to the kitchen, and sat at the head of the table to read a letter postmarked Loveville, Maryland. He placed his old straw hat on his lap, curious who was writing him from the town where Papa Zimmerman had homesteaded so long ago.

  Meanwhile, Rhoda was busy baking bread, as well as two pies. Considering her circumstances, she was still going forward with her household duties, not shirking from them despite her sorrow.

  The kitchen was warm on this mid-May afternoon, and Earnest paused to wipe his brow with the back of his hand.

  In the corner, he noticed Sylvia studying a recipe card. The two most important women in his life, working nearby, right there . . . it was almost too much for him. Yet to get up and leave the kitchen wouldn’t be right, either. So, he sat there, aware of his own breathing, and opened the envelope.

  He was surprised to see that the letter was from a master carpenter, an Old Order Mennonite man in need of help to repair a number of horse stables damaged by a recent storm.

  When Earnest finished reading, he placed it on the table and leaned back in the chair, tentative, if not nervous, to bring this up to Rhoda. Considering her frame of mind, though, perhaps it was a good idea to give her some space. Besides, if he decided to accept the offer, they could use the extra money. On the other hand, he certainly did not want Rhoda to feel as if he was abandoning her.

  “Sylvie, honey . . . I need to talk to your Mamma.”

  Rhoda glanced at Sylvia, who, without speaking, put down her recipe card, headed to the utility room, and closed the back door behind her.

  Going to stand behind the wooden table bench, Rhoda asked, “What is it?”

  He tapped the letter. “I’ve been contacted to help with structural repairs on some damaged horse stables in Loveville, Maryland . . . close to where my grandparents once lived.”

  “When would ya leave?” Rhoda asked immediately.

  “This coming Tuesday morning. I’ll hire a driver.”

  She brushed a hand across her forehead, then slowly nodded. “I think we could both benefit from some time apart.” Studying him, she asked, “How long would ya be gone?”

  “A little over two weeks,” he replied, thinking he needed to find a way to call the Maryland carpenter, who must have gotten his name from the Hickory Hollow church membership roll.

  Rhoda went to the oven to check on her pies. “What’ll ya do ’bout the commissioned clocks you’re workin’ on?”

  “Oh, I should be caught up on those orders if I work nights and early mornings before I leave,” he said. “And the current inventory will suffice for market days and the showroom here during my time away.”

  Rhoda nodded. “Ya know how Sylvie likes to cover for you with clock sales.”

  “She’s good at it,” Earnest said, thinking that Rhoda seemed to be taking this news in stride. “You’re not upset about my going, then?”

  “I’ll be all right.” She opened the oven and removed the steaming pies, the aroma filling the kitchen as she set them on trivets on the countertop.

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-One

  Very early the next morning, Sylvia tiptoed down to the kitchen, thinking she should start on the cakes for the Ascension Day picnic. To her surprise, her father came through just then, hauling a large box and looking quite unkempt, and she wondered if he had stayed up all night working in his shop.

  Dat set the box on the counter with a heave. “This is for your Mamma,” he said quietly, then headed to the bathroom around the corner.

  Curious, Sylvia went to read the writing on the box. A new set of dishes! She recalled that today was the anniversary of her parents’ engagement—twenty years.

  Her father had undoubtedly assumed no one would be up yet, not at this hour. But Sylvia had come down extra early, since her parents had talked last evening there in the kitchen, just when she’d planned to do her baking. Not wanting to disturb them, Sylvia had taken a long walk around the perimeter of their property, breaking into a run at points. When she returned, she’d felt too distraught to do any baking and almost wished she could skip going to the outing. And, seeing Dat looking so weary and disheveled now, she felt the same way—miserable.

  “There won’t be any cake for dessert if I don’t keep my word,” she murmured, still feeling sick over what Dat had told her yesterday. She hadn’t slept well last night, either. And now here was this big gift from Dat to Mamma, a reminder of what had once been such a special day to both of them.

  How will she react?

  Leaving Eva Kauffman’s cake recipe on the counter, Sylvia headed upstairs and slipped back into bed.

  Rhoda awakened with the knowledge that this was not only Ascension Day, but the day that marked the twentieth anniversary of her engagement to Earnest, an occasion he had always insisted on celebrating. Last night, however, he’d said he would stay up late to catch up on orders before leaving for Maryland, so she did not anticipate any sort of celebration this year. Just as well.

  Noticing Sylvia’s bedroom door closed, she looked in on her daughter.

  Sylvia raised her sleepy head. “I got up at dawn to dress, Mamma, but I felt so ill, I came back to bed.” She explained that she wasn’t going to bake the cakes she’d promised to take to the youth picnic.

  “Oh, I’ll bake them,” Rhoda offered. “Glad to do that for ya.”

  “Ach, don’t go to the trouble,” Sylvia tried to insist before lying back down, all doubled up in her bed.

  “You mustn’t fret over the cakes.”

  “Will ya sit here with me?” Sylvia moved over to make space.

  “You’re takin’ this awful hard, jah?” She touched Sylvia’s forehead.

  “I’m worried ’bout you.” Sylvia pulled up the sheet.

  Rhoda said, “You’re fretting too much.”

  “Well, how can we ever trust Dat again?”

  Rhoda had pondered this very thing but was surprised to hear her daughter voice it. “Honestly, ’tween you and me, I sometimes wonder now what else he might be hiding.” It shook her that she’d admitted such a thing to her daughter. “But please don’t repeat that.”
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  “I never would.” Sylvia closed her eyes. “All this makes me wonder . . . can anyone be fully trusted?” She paused. “Who can we count on?”

  Rhoda sighed. “There’s no doubting the Lord, Sylvie.”

  “Well, we can’t see Him . . . can’t touch Him.”

  “But we can know Him through the Good Book. Ach, my dear Sylvie . . . I doubt you’d be sayin’ any of this if you weren’t so upset.” Rhoda leaned down to kiss her cheek. “Can ya rest awhile?”

  Sylvia nodded. “I have one more question, Mamma.”

  Rhoda waited.

  “Why do you think Dat didn’t tell you ’bout his first wife?”

  Rhoda had expected this. She rose to move to the window. Then, turning, she explained, “To your father’s credit, he did offer to tell ’bout his old life before he asked to court me.”

  “He did?”

  Rhoda nodded. “But I didn’t care to know, and I told him that. I’d already begun to fall in love with him, too, and thought nothin’ could change my mind.”

  “And now that you know, do ya wish you’d given a different answer?”

  Rhoda went to her, sitting on the edge of the bed once more. “Oh, honey, I never would have had you or your brothers. . . . I can’t go back and change the course of my life.”

  “Nee,” Sylvia said, shaking her head. “I just wonder what would’ve happened if you’d known . . . if you’d have married Dat.”

  Rhoda realized that in order to do so, she would have had to leave Hickory Hollow and join Earnest in another church, away from the Amish life she so loved. With him being divorced, there would have been no other option. Her head spun at the thought.

  “I’ve upset ya,” Sylvia whispered.

  “I love you, daughter. Never forget that,” Rhoda said, patting her cheek, then leaving the room.

  She walked downstairs, remembering just then how Earnest had said the same thing to her: “I love you. Never forget. . . .”

  In the kitchen, she found him sitting on the wooden bench, already showered and dressed for work. He was eyeing a large box on the counter.

  “What’s this?” Rhoda asked, not knowing what to think.

  “Open it.” Earnest motioned toward the box. “I got it started with my pocketknife, to make it easy for you.”

  Surprised at the description on the side of the container, she wished he hadn’t gone to any trouble. It just seemed so unnecessary.

  Carefully, though, she removed the wrapping from the first plate and brought it over to the table and set it down, admiring the design. “A real perty pattern,” she said, staring at it.

  “The floral rim reminds me of you,” he said simply. “And the bluebirds flitting here and there.”

  “Are ya sure we need—”

  “It’s long past time for a new set.”

  She couldn’t argue with that. “I’ll wash them, but what’ll we do with the old ones?”

  Earnest suggested discarding the cracked and chipped ones and saving the others to use for picnics or whatnot.

  She ought to feel grateful, but it was just so strange to receive such an attractive gift—or any gift marking the years of their love—the way she felt. “Denki,” she said. “You shouldn’t’ve bothered.”

  After drinking a cup of black coffee, Earnest headed outdoors, and Rhoda got busy making scrambled eggs, toast, and sausage. Meanwhile, her gaze kept drifting to the box of dishes, which seemed to grow larger every time she looked at it.

  After the family had eaten breakfast together, all but Sylvia, it took very little time for Rhoda to gather the ingredients for the chocolate cake, doubling the recipe to make two large sheet cakes, as Sylvia had planned.

  Rhoda ignored the enormous box of new dishes, leaving it right where it was while she baked. Once the cakes had cooled enough for her to frost them, she called for Ernie to hitch Lily to the spring wagon.

  It wasn’t long before she and Ernie arrived at the schoolhouse grounds, where Titus Kauffman and his auburn-haired brother Jonah hurried over to help Rhoda with the cakes. “Sylvia wasn’t feeling well,” she announced. “She’s real sorry to miss this outing.”

  Titus looked disappointed but thanked her for the cakes. “I hope she feels better soon.”

  “I’ll tell her,” Rhoda said.

  Jonah went around to the driver’s side to talk briefly with Ernie, which Rhoda thought considerate. “You fellas have yourselves a nice picnic,” she said, knowing it wouldn’t be long before Ernie was one of this group, since he turned sixteen next February.

  Titus thanked her and then, with a good-bye to Ernie, carefully carried one of the sheet cakes over to a long table where a few mothers were setting out a spread of food. Jonah carried the other cake, heading in the same direction as Titus.

  It was ideal weather for a picnic, and Rhoda remembered the first time she had gone with Earnest to one such youth gathering, held years ago at Deacon Peachey’s house. It was the day Earnest had decided it was all right to let the rest of the young folk know they were courting.

  “Jonah just told me that some of the fellas are planning to help rebuild the horse barns in Maryland, too,” Ernie mentioned, interrupting her thoughts.

  “Is that right?” Rhoda replied, wondering if Earnest knew this. He had told the children last evening about the opportunity in Maryland, describing the vicious storm, which had been covered in many regional newspapers.

  Thinking back on it now, Rhoda likened that storm to the invisible one that had ripped through her heart with Earnest’s revelation. But unlike the Maryland storm, this one had done damage that might not ever be repaired.

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-Two

  Sylvia heeded Preacher Kauffman’s sermon three days later, thankful she felt well enough to be in attendance. And sitting there next to Mamma while Amos Kauffman preached from the fourteenth chapter of the Gospel of John, she recognized how much she was looking forward to marrying into this man’s family.

  Titus’s father read now from the old German Bible, of which she understood little but listened intently anyway. His strawberry-blond hair and light brown beard were unlike any combination of hair Sylvia had ever seen. It was obvious where Titus had gotten his good looks, but she knew full well that being handsome had nothing to do with a person’s heart.

  “‘Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid,’” Preacher Kauffman quoted. “Cling to the peace of God that passeth all understanding. And encourage one another in the faith,” he said.

  Like Ella Mae Zook does, Sylvia thought. And like Titus does for me.

  Thinking of her beau, she was reminded of Mamma’s thoughtfulness last Thursday in baking the cakes and taking them to the picnic. Sylvia could just imagine Titus’s puzzled smile when he saw Mamma bringing them. And it felt as though it had been too long since they’d been together.

  I’ll see him tonight, Sylvia thought, hoping she wouldn’t be troubled by the blues like on Ascension Day.

  Sylvia smiled over at Ernie at the reins as he drove her to the Singing that evening. “Are ya lookin’ forward to going, too, once ya turn sixteen?” she asked.

  “Sometimes, jah. But pairing up . . . well, it seems kinda soon for me,” he said.

  “Maybe you’ll change your mind in the next nine months.”

  He glanced at her. “You’ll be hitched up for three months already by the time I have my birthday.”

  She nodded and smoothed her long apron. “Guess that means I won’t be privy to whoever you’re sweet on at youth gatherings.”

  “All the better!” Ernie laughed, slowing the horse a bit. “Say, why do ya think Dat’s really goin’ to Maryland when he’s got so much work here?”

  “You heard what he told all of us the other night.”

  Shrugging, Ernie nodded. “Just wondered what ya thought.”

  She had no idea what to say to that.

  Ernie frowned. “All right, then, don’t tell me.”

  “What’s t
o tell?”

  “Well, you work with Mamma all day . . . I don’t. I’ve just noticed that she and Dat have been avoidin’ each other lately.”

  She was relieved to see the farmhouse for the Singing come into view. There was no way she would reveal anything about Dat’s secret past to Ernie. “If ya believe in prayer, then maybe slip in one for them.”

  “Are you prayin’ for them?” Ernie asked quite pointedly.

  She nodded.

  “Okay, then, Miss Mysterious.” He sighed and pulled up into the drive and came to a stop to let her out. “I s’pect you’ll be ridin’ home with your beau later.”

  “Jah,” she said and watched Ernie back out of the driveway, feeling terrible, being so guarded about their parents. Ernie’s my closest brother, but what more could I say?

  Everyone cordially welcomed the small group of Amish youth from Smoketown to the Hickory Hollow Singing, including Titus and Danny, who went out of their way to invite the visiting fellows to sit with them on the young men’s side of the long table. As far as Sylvia could tell, there were no apparent differences in their Plain attire, so she presumed the Smoketown Ordnung must be similar to Hickory Hollow’s. Just as well. Surely one of the reasons to blend the two groups was for some of the young people to meet others from outside their district.

  Sylvia sat with Alma and Jessie, singing gospel songs and hymns—livelier music than what was sung during Preaching services. Focusing on the lyrics, she let her fears slide away.

  During the refreshment break midway through, quite a few people remarked about Sylvia’s mother’s chocolate cakes, adding that they’d missed Sylvia at the picnic. Embarrassed at being fussed over, Sylvia did her best to be polite.

  As was his way, Titus sought her out at the tail end of the refreshment time, mentioning he’d appreciated today’s second gathering for baptismal instruction. He walked with her over near the open barn door. “It means we’re that much closer . . .”

  To our wedding day, she finished the thought. “The days will fly by once summer’s here,” she said. “Plenty to do to keep ourselves busy.”