The Tinderbox Page 11

  Eventually Earnest rose and walked to the utility room and lit a small lantern. Carrying it outside, he felt the slight chill of the night but welcomed the quiet, the closest thing he knew right now to peace. If Rhoda changed her mind about staying mum and confided in Mamie Zook or any of the other womenfolk about Earnest’s former marriage and divorce, only the Lord above knew what their future might hold. He shuddered to think of losing his family, but things were on the brink of that, he knew. How could I endure such a loss?

  Restless and in need of a friend, Earnest realized he had not allowed himself to fully grieve Mahlon’s passing. And now this breach between Rhoda and himself felt like a death, too. She must think we’ve lived a lie for twenty years!

  While he understood her turning away from him and not wanting him physically near, he could not imagine sharing their bed and not reaching for her as he had all during their happy marriage.

  I brought all this on myself, he thought, taking a seat on a nearby rocking chair and staring at the night sky, the lantern casting a ghastly glow around him.

  Awful as it is, at least we’re unified in keeping my secret.

  CHAPTER

  Sixteen

  Sylvia heard footsteps on the stairs, and recognizing that Dat was up, she crawled out of bed, put on her long summer duster, and tiptoed down to the kitchen. One of the floorboards creaked, and the smell of lantern oil came in through the rear screen door. Glancing at the table, she recalled how painful it had been to sit there during supper as something terrible overtook her family. Exactly what, she did not know. But she knew that even her brothers had sensed the sudden divide between their parents.

  Barefoot, Sylvia went to the back door and saw her father sitting with his head bowed low. A good many moths dipped and wheeled near his lantern as Sylvia hung back, waiting.

  The longer she waited, the more she wondered at his rigid stillness. Was he breathing? She opened the screen door to step forward, and just then, his head came up and he yawned. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in the rocking chair.

  “Dat?” she said softly, not wanting to alarm him.

  He turned to look. “Ach, you’re awake?”

  “Heard your footsteps on the stairs earlier,” she said, wondering why he was down here instead of in bed with Mamma.

  She sat on the rocking chair next to him, crossing her legs and pulling her long duster down over them. She felt as if a wall had descended between them. Ever since I opened the tinderbox, she thought. As a little girl, she’d often sat in this very spot to watch the moon rise with Dat. He’d never been a big talker, but he listened real good, and his silences were comfortable, if not comforting. Truth be known, words hadn’t mattered, because she and Dat had always been able to enjoy just being together.

  Yet she had still wished that he would oblige her now and then and tell her more about his own childhood . . . not only about his family, but also his hopes, if not his fears. But then again, Dat hadn’t been one to reveal his feelings. At least not to her.

  I have so many memories. She thought of all the years Dat and she had been close. And they’re good ones. Yet sometimes it seems like I hardly know my own father.

  She sighed softly, trying to work up her nerve. “Is Mamma all right? I was sure something was wrong while we were makin’ supper.” She took the chance that just maybe this might open things up between them.

  “Sylvie,” her father said, his voice sterner than she expected. “You mustn’t get caught up in this.”

  “Well, I already am,” she protested, wanting to get all of this out in the open. “Dat, please, can’t we talk?”

  “It’s late.”

  “Just for a minute?”

  He looked her way, the muscles in his face softening a bit.

  She squeezed her hands together and took the plunge. “Does Mamma know what I found in the tinderbox—that gold pocket watch?”

  He looked away, then nodded. “Jah, we talked for a long time this morning about that . . . and many other things.”

  What’s he gone and done? she worried. Sylvia looked out toward the barn, where the waning three-quarter moon’s silvery beams made the steel roof gleam. The night enveloped them, still lovely despite the tension between them.

  She swallowed hard and tried to resist the growing frustration she felt. The pocket watch was surely from an old girlfriend, she thought. Why bother Mamma with it?

  She recalled Mamma’s quiet listlessness, even sadness, so out of character for her.

  Dat did not volunteer more, and the refrain of crickets took over. He looked like a man in need of consoling, but with poor Preacher Mahlon dead and in the ground, no one was close to her father anymore. Except Mamma, but she seemed to be in equal need of consolation.

  “S’pose I ought to return to bed,” Sylvia said at last, the rocking chair stirring back and forth as she rose.

  Heading for the back door, her heart broke for the breach between Dat and herself—and between her father and mother, too. And a thought plagued her. If Rosalind was Dat’s former girlfriend, why is Mamma so upset?

  As Sylvia awoke the next morning, fresh, fragrant breezes wafted in through her open windows from the purple redbud bushes and pink and white dogwoods in full bloom. Stretching out as she sat up, she noticed the way the sunlight shone on her pretty bed quilt. Just one more day, and she would see her beloved Titus. If only that could eliminate her worries over Mamma. And Dat, too.

  She didn’t dare let herself imagine the things her father must have shared with Mamma yesterday. But by the look on his face—and Mamma’s behavior—something disconcerting had happened. And Sylvia was very sure the mysterious Rosalind’s inscription had everything to do with it.

  She pulled on her bathrobe to head downstairs to shower, looking forward to working the soil in the garden, and weeding and hoeing, doubtless a good idea since Mamma could maybe use some time alone in the house to think. Or pray.

  Back upstairs after her shower, Sylvia sat on the edge of the bed and read from the Good Book, thinking she might need to paste a smile on her face to make it through the day without drawing questions from her brothers. They’re bound to have enough of those already!

  Rhoda poured cold water in the teakettle, wishing she could talk privately with Ella Mae over a cup of warm peppermint tea. She planned to brew some presently. Aside from talking to the Lord above, though, there was no substitute for exposing one’s soul to the Wise Woman. Yet Rhoda had been the one to insist Earnest not tell a soul about his past. Earnest’s future as a church member was at stake, and they alone held the power to safeguard that.

  Despite all of that, she believed that God must be frowning on her for uniting with Earnest in his deceit. Frowning on us both, she thought, wondering how long she could live with this knowledge tearing at her.

  What would happen if Earnest was nominated for preacher come October, and then it was found out? Or if Sylvia married and then Titus learned the truth about his father-in-law’s past?

  In dire need of some sunshine and fresh air, Rhoda decided to visit Hannah, not Ella Mae, after the breakfast of eggs and scrapple . . . once morning chores were done.

  Earnest had gotten up very early again to work on his most recent custom clock order, doing the meticulous work he was credited with. For the years he’d lived and worked here, the People valued a fast worker as a good worker, but he had always been one to work methodically, especially when it came to the art of clock making. Not so carefully, though, when it came to hauling manure or chopping wood. For everyday chores, Earnest was as speedy as the next Amishman.

  If I can still consider myself such a man, he thought while hitching up Lily to head over to help Judah and Edwin Zook take stock of some farm equipment and tools in preparation for the auction they were planning across the field at Mahlon’s. They would decide on which Amish auctioneer to hire, place an ad in the local newspaper, and create sale bills to distribute to various businesses around the county t
o get the word out. The family was leaning toward not selling the farmhouse immediately, instead wanting to rent out the cropland once the autumn harvest was in. Along with the farm items up for auction, they hoped to sell some of the house furnishings, since Mamie would be the only one living there for the time being. One of Matthew’s unmarried daughters was spending nights with her and lending a hand around the house for now, and in the fall, they would sit down with Mamie and let her decide whose home she would like to move to.

  She’s fortunate to have so many options, Earnest thought, glancing at the back porch, where he’d seen Rhoda shaking out rugs earlier. The sight of her made him sad, aching as he was to set things right with her.

  He signaled Lily to pull out of the driveway onto the main road, feeling drained by the worrisome thoughts that crossed his mind. Today will be a test of Rhoda’s and my relationship—an indication of how things might look going forward, he thought, feeling even more wretched.

  Before he’d left the house, Rhoda had mentioned her plans to go over to see her ailing sister. At the time, he’d felt the urge to say something, wishing she wouldn’t put herself in the position of being observed by someone as close to her as Hannah—his wife had seemed so dejected as she’d talked with him in the kitchen before the children came down. Somehow, though, she’d forced herself to take on a cheerful facade at breakfast, and for that he was thankful.

  Earnest slapped the reins and clicked his tongue to urge Lily into a trot, and her head dipped, thick mane flying, as the spring wagon moved along. Last night’s short talk with Sylvia came to mind—he’d purposely kept her in the dark, much as he’d done with Rhoda all these years. Yet it wasn’t his place to tell Sylvia the truth, not when Rhoda had decided it wiser to keep silent on the matter. Undoubtedly, though, his only daughter was questioning why something as small as a pocket watch was causing such agitation.

  Rhoda walked along the driveway and out to the road, then moved to the left shoulder, where she could better see the teams of horses and buggies coming around the bend up ahead. She swung her right arm to appear to be on a mission, which she was. The basket of goodies on her left arm held not only raisin bread but a fresh batch of fudge, too.

  The soaring shade trees created interesting shadows on Hickory Lane as one buggy after another rode by. She walked alongside her brother-in-law’s white horse fence that lined the meadow where Curtis turned out his frisky colts each spring.

  Just then, she saw Annie Fisher Lapp headed this way in her gray family carriage, which glinted in the sunlight. Annie waved, smiling broadly as her horse clip-clopped past. Rhoda recalled the day Annie had married Elam Lapp, shunned Katie’s older brother. She remembered it clearly because she was to have been one of Annie’s wedding attendants until she had contracted a bad case of bronchitis. Truth be known, until yesterday, that had been the most disappointing day of Rhoda’s life.

  When Rhoda turned into the narrow lane, she noticed Curtis walking across the side yard from the springhouse, his straw hat pushed back on his head. He broke into a grin when he saw her, raising his hand high in welcome.

  “Hullo,” she called to him as she neared. “Is Hannah around?”

  “Sorry to say, ya just missed her.” Curtis pointed over yonder. “She’s gone to Ella Mae’s.”

  “Okay, then,” Rhoda said, somewhat astonished that Hannah had felt up to leaving the house. “I’ll just drop this off with ya.” She offered the basket to him.

  Curtis shook his head. “Why not take it to her at Ella Mae’s? Surprise her.” He chuckled. “The three of yous can have yourselves a nice long chat, and some goodies.” Smiling, he added, “If that’s what ya brought, that is.”

  “Jah, plenty of sweets.”

  Curtis adjusted his straw hat. “Give my best to Earnest.”

  “I’ll do that,” she said, slipping the basket handle back on her arm.

  “Say, before ya go, how’s he doin’, since Mahlon’s passing?”

  “I doubt it’s sunk in yet.”

  Curtis glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the Zook farm. “Mamie’s one strong woman, isn’t she? At least she was the day of the funeral.”

  “Once the day-to-day sets in, it’ll be ever so hard.”

  Rhoda said good-bye to Curtis, feeling an even greater determination to spend as much time with the new widow as possible.

  Something precious has died in me, too, Rhoda thought, then chided herself for comparing her own predicament to Mamie’s.

  ———

  Rhoda slowed her stride as she walked toward Mattie and David Beiler’s farm, where Ella Mae’s little Dawdi Haus was connected to her daughter and son-in-law’s ivy-covered farmhouse. There was no need to rush, since she didn’t want to interrupt Hannah’s time with the Wise Woman. Truth be told, she felt nearly too tired to engage in much conversation.

  There had been many times, though, when Rhoda was eager to arrive at Ella Mae’s sunny kitchen and loath to leave the warmth of acceptance and understanding the kindhearted woman radiated. One such time, more than twenty years ago, had been right after Earnest invited her on their first date, on the heels of the bishop having lifted his Proving and inviting Earnest to join church.

  Earnest seemed somewhat shy in those days. Hesitant to mention anything to her own Mamm about Earnest Miller’s interest in her, Rhoda had confided in Ella Mae instead, asking for wisdom.

  She remembered it as clearly as yesterday. . . .

  CHAPTER

  Seventeen

  As usual, the Wise Woman’s renowned teapot was simmering on the back burner of the wood stove as a young nineteen-year-old Rhoda was welcomed into the cozy Dawdi Haus.

  “I have some peppermint tea right here, just waitin’,” Ella Mae said, her blue eyes bright at seeing her. And Rhoda was happy to be seated at the table graced by two place mats embroidered with yellow roses.

  “Sugar cubes are in that buttercup bowl near the window,” Ella Mae said from the other side of the small kitchen. “But you’re mighty sweet already, so maybe ya don’t take it in your tea.”

  She gave her familiar laugh, setting Rhoda at ease, who was glad since this was only the second time she’d come here. First for solace, and now for advice.

  “I’ve been thinking ’bout ya, dearie,” Ella Mae said, interrupting young Rhoda’s own thoughts. She carried a tray with two rose teacups set on matching saucers. “If I may say so, ain’t very much I miss round here.”

  Rhoda was grateful for this teatime, glad that Ella Mae was available to talk—the dimple-cheeked woman was in such high demand. “Then ya must have an idea why I’m here.”

  “Well, I’ve heard there’s a certain brown-eyed young man spendin’ his money at your roadside stand.”

  A flush of warmth spread over Rhoda’s cheeks. “Did Mamm tell ya?”

  Ella Mae reached for the bowl of sugar cubes and dropped one into her tea. “’Twas a little birdie, let’s say.”

  “Those birdies seem to be everywhere lately.”

  Nodding, Ella Mae said, “Birds are known to fly, ain’t so?”

  Rhoda laughed, enjoying her visit. “I s’pose it’s all right to come right out an’ ask ya what I’m wonderin’.”

  “Well, I daresay the day it ain’t all right will be the day I’m dead and gone.” Ella Mae sipped her tea and looked over the top of her cup at Rhoda, her little glasses steaming up. “If ya speak your mind, honey-girl, I promise to listen. All right?”

  Stopping to pick up her own pretty cup of tea, Rhoda felt ever so cared for. “Denki for bein’ willing to listen with your heart like ya do.”

  “Is there any other way?”

  Rhoda began to talk about Earnest Miller, explaining that they’d met last summer while she was tending the family vegetable stand, but that she hadn’t talked with him much during his Proving.

  Ella Mae nodded.

  “I saw him at the General Store, and we talked a little again.” Rhoda admitted that initially she’d thoug
ht he might be too bashful to ask her out, so she was surprised when he invited her to go with him to meet his clockmaker friend, Isaac Smucker. “Do ya know Ol’ Isaac?”

  Ella Mae’s eyes lit up unexpectedly. “Truth be told, I do—well, I did—but that’s a whole ’nother story. Go on, dearie.”

  “Anyway, I was so ferhoodled, I didn’t know how to answer. So I said I’d have to think ’bout it.”

  A big grin smoothed out Ella Mae’s wrinkled face for a moment. “A girl after my own heart.” She set down her teacup and rested her chin on her hands. “And what have ya thought?”

  Rhoda paused. “Honestly, it seems strange to consider goin’ with someone from the outside world.”

  “Someone who wasn’t born Amish, ya mean?”

  “Jah, and he just doesn’t talk about his family, ’cept that his parents died not so long ago.” Rhoda sighed. “Maybe it’s because his people are all fancy folk. I really don’t know.”

  “Does it make any difference to ya that the bishop has given him the right hand of fellowship?”

  Rhoda considered that.

  “You do trust Bishop John, don’t ya? God ordained him to oversee the flock here in Hickory Hollow.”

  Rhoda was quick to say she did.

  “So, I s’pect the next thing to consider is what your heart’s tellin’ you . . . and not only that, but your noggin, too. The Good Lord gave us brains to use and hearts to be wide open to His will.”

  Taking this in, Rhoda realized something and was surprised she hadn’t thought of it before. “Ya know, I could just tell Earnest I’ll go with him once . . . give myself a chance to decide if I want to again.”

  “See? Now you’re usin’ your noggin. And if this fella’s the right one, the Good Lord will prompt your heart. You’ll know.” Ella Mae reached for her teacup again and took a longer sip. Then, setting it down again, she added, “God’s will doesn’t just drop into our laps when we’re sittin’ still. Nee, He guides us when we’re walking in His steps, moving forward. That way, He can stop us or nudge us onward.”