The Tinderbox Read online

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-Seven

  Sylvia could sense the tension coming from her mother during the second sermon. Mamma’s hands were clasped so tightly in her lap. She couldn’t help wondering how strict the discipline would be, the memory of Dat’s words ringing in her memory—he could be shunned for life.

  As soon as the benediction was read and the closing hymn sung, the unbaptized would be ushered out so the membership meeting could begin. Sylvia was not qualified to attend the meeting, of course, but she also did not want to stand outside with any of her other cousins, worried what she might be asked.

  Just now, thinking about that, Sylvia wished Ernie had been the one at the reins when they’d pulled into the lane this morning before worship. Maybe then Dat’s absence wouldn’t have been so noticeable, she thought woefully, wishing she could simply go and sit under one of the big willow trees behind the barn. To pray . . .

  ———

  The day’s mugginess was getting to Rhoda. She could not bear to look at the bishop when he rose to speak after the youth and children exited the house. She heard John Beiler’s wisely chosen thoughts as he began, the words penetrating her heart when Earnest’s full name was stated for the congregation to hear, and his sin of deception called out.

  “Our brother, Earnest Miller, was married to an outsider before he came lookin’ for peace here in Hickory Hollow, more than twenty years ago.”

  A muffled gasp rippled through the congregation. Torturous as this was, Rhoda bowed her head, wishing she had stayed home with her husband.

  “Earnest’s first wife divorced him and married another man. Yet Earnest remained silent, never once revealing this as a seeker who desired to follow the Lord in holy baptism to join this church.” The bishop paused to mop his brow with a white handkerchief. “Earnest’s deceit over the years hardened his heart, and the father of lies had a strong foothold.”

  Rhoda glanced up just then to see the bishop’s gaze fixed on the back wall, not making eye contact with anyone. Grateful for her sister Ruthann’s hand on hers, she prayed silently for her own sake, lest she start to weep.

  The bishop lowered his voice as he continued. “We will encourage our brother Earnest to put on a humble attitude before the Lord God and the church when he returns to Preaching service two weeks from today. In the meantime, I urge you to stop by his house to encourage him to remain strong in the faith and continue to abide by the Old Ways during the next six weeks of this temporary Bann. And please, all of you, remember Earnest in your daily prayers.”

  Rhoda wondered what the womenfolk around her were thinking. Earnest pulled the wool over poor Rhoda’s eyes. . . . She tried her best to shut out the terrible thoughts. I mustn’t let my imagination take over.

  When the bishop brought the meeting to a close and the older women filed out on the side where the womenfolk and young children usually sat, Rhoda’s eyes caught Ella Mae Zook’s. The kindly woman gave her the dearest look. Now she understands why I’ve been struggling so, thought Rhoda, remembering how helpful to her the last visit had been.

  Rhoda did not trust herself to look Eva Kauffman’s way as the preacher’s wife walked out, and in that moment, Earnest’s secret crashed against her heart. What will Titus be told? While as an unbaptized youth he was not present, people sometimes talked, and Rhoda was concerned about that for her children’s sake. Sylvia’s especially.

  She rose and waited for the women in front of her to form a line and head out of the front room, then through the large sitting area and the kitchen. Rhoda squinted into the sunlight as she exited the farmhouse, wishing she could skip the common meal and go home straightaway with her children.

  Sylvia walked past the school-aged youngsters, their round faces and long-lashed eyes observing her more closely than she’d like. Or was she just imagining things? Nee, she thought, they don’t know what’s being discussed inside . . . or who’s being named a sinner.

  Her own brothers were over near the stable, and when it looked possible to avoid her teenage girl cousins, Sylvia made a beeline toward the barn and around to the back, where she leaned against the rough wooden siding, crying silently. It was best to get it all out before the shared meal, and she did, the tears coursing down her cheeks. Alas, she did not have a hankie along, since she’d left her purse with Mamma in the house.

  She could not erase the image of her father’s face that morning, white as the Sunday shirt he wore. She had watched him closely, the man who had always treated her with kindness, love, and respect, even though some Amishmen were disappointed in having a female firstborn. Sylvia had never known Dat to treat her that way, though, always going out of his way to include her. Sometimes even more so than Ernie when we were younger, she realized just then, which made her fight back even more tears. Oh, she loved her father so!

  She remembered all the hours learning how to properly groom the horses, Dat guiding her little hands to hold the curry brush, as well as the times she’d watched him build the exquisite clocks his customers had bought through the years. Her father allowed her to open the door and welcome them in when he was bowed over his work desk, putting on the final touches. He’s always trusted me, she thought, and hasn’t minded having me underfoot.

  There had been plenty of days, too, when he’d asked her along to town, or to hop in the spring wagon to pick up flour at the nearby mill, or to visit an ailing relative, if Mamma was busy.

  Will I ever recover the good relationship Dat and I had before I looked in the tinderbox?

  ———

  When she was certain the meeting was over, Sylvia rounded the other side of the barn, heading toward the backyard, where Connie Kauffman bumped into her. “Ach, sorry,” Sylvia said, reaching out for Connie’s arm. “Are ya all right?”

  “Jah,” Connie said, staring at her face. “But . . . are you?”

  “I’m fine, really.” Sylvia nodded as if to convince herself. “Say, your clock is all fixed . . . I could walk over and bring it to you this evening.”

  Connie’s eyes lit up. “That’s wunnerbaar-gut, but ya don’t have to.” She frowned, her head slanted now as she studied Sylvia. “Ain’t ya goin’ to Singing?”

  “Prob’ly not.” Though she’d been the one to bring up her plans, Sylvia disliked being cornered by Titus’s little sister. Walking now, she had to change the subject. “I’ll see ya after supper,” she said, keeping her eye out for Mamma, wanting to go over and stand with her, even though it was not customary. Typically, the married women either helped in the kitchen to serve the food or clustered on the porch or in the yard. The teenage girls usually stood together in circles of conversation here and there, though today Sylvia made sure she didn’t look their way too long, not wanting one of her many cousins to view that as an invitation to come over and talk. Of course, the cousins who were already baptized had no business revealing what the bishop had pronounced at the meeting. It was understood that anyone who talked about what was said in the members-only meetings was also at risk for church discipline. Once the People dispersed to head home, though, gossip sometimes began, and the thought made Sylvia nearly ill.

  ———

  Rhoda was touched when Hannah, at church for the first time since her recent miscarriage, came to talk with her on the side porch. “If there’s anything I can do,” she started by saying, but Rhoda waved it off. “Come now. You’ve always been there for me, Schweschder.” Hannah reached for Rhoda’s hand. “I mean it.”

  Rhoda motioned for them to walk toward the front of the house. “How are you, Hannah? I’m glad to see ya out of the house again.”

  “Well, you know how a person feels after talkin’ with Ella Mae, jah?”

  Nodding, Rhoda truly did.

  “I was reluctant to believe it, but I’m starting to feel somewhat better.” Hannah gave her a small smile. “I’ve been finding ways to keep myself busy, making food for a few new mothers.”

  “What a gut idea,” Rhoda said, glad that Hannah s
eemed to be finding a more constructive path for living with her grief.

  “By the way, our sisters all know ’bout my loss now, but I didn’t feel the need to tell any of the other womenfolk.” Hannah smiled tentatively.

  Rhoda reached to give her a brief embrace. “I’m ever so thankful you’re feeling more yourself again.”

  “I’ll be keepin’ you in my prayers now,” Hannah said, appearing as if she was ready to head back inside.

  “Well, please pray mostly for Earnest,” Rhoda urged.

  Shaking her head, Hannah looked at her with compassion. “I don’t know how you’re managing.”

  “Ach, there’ll be plenty of counsel ahead for us.” Rhoda certainly hoped that was the case. She’d known of other couples who, when one of the spouses was under a temporary Bann, received frequent visits from the ministers. “But we do need a lot of prayer. . . .”

  Hannah squeezed Rhoda’s elbow. “You drop by anytime, ya hear? Our door’s always open.”

  “Same for you, Schweschder.”

  ———

  At the shared meal, Mamie Zook sat next to Rhoda, not saying much, but her presence was a comfort. Just knowing that Mamie was still grieving the loss of her husband brought a sweetness to their fellowship as they ate together. Ruthann and Hannah also sat nearby, as well as Rhoda’s mother. Their talk was of gardening, filling birdfeeders, and attending canning bees. No one mentioned a single word about Earnest.

  Later, while waiting for their road horse to be hitched up, Rhoda noticed Mamie coming in her direction, like she wanted to talk further. Rhoda stepped away from her children to greet her again.

  Mamie leaned near. “I’ll keep you in my prayers.”

  “I should be the one encouraging you,” Rhoda replied, clasping the dear woman’s hand.

  “Oh, but you have . . . and you are by bein’ such a thoughtful neighbor,” Mamie said. “You’ve always been. You and Earnest both . . .”

  Hearing Earnest spoken of so kindly put a lump in Rhoda’s throat, and when she could see that their carriage was ready, she smiled at Mamie. “Da Herr sei mit du,” she said, making her way back to her waiting children.

  “The Lord bless you, too,” Mamie called. “All of yous.”

  Once they were settled in the buggy, Sylvia whispered, “Mamie’s the dearest woman, ain’t so?”

  Rhoda nodded as she picked up the driving lines. “Are we ready to go?”

  “I am,” Tommy said, squeezed in beside Sylvia. “And I can’t wait to see Dat!”

  “He’ll surely be looking for you, too . . . might even be sitting on the front porch watchin’ for us,” Rhoda said, trying to sound cheerful. But she had to wonder how Earnest would manage to tell their children about his first marriage.

  CHAPTER

  Twenty-Eight

  During the ride home, Sylvia hoped she hadn’t seemed short with Cousin Alma during their brief encounter before the light noon meal. She really hadn’t been disinterested in Alma’s chatter about doubling up again with their boyfriends after Singing tonight. But Sylvia hadn’t had the nerve to tell Alma she felt like staying home that evening . . . not wanting to open the door to questions about Dat.

  I should’ve said I wasn’t going. Sylvia shifted in her seat.

  “You all right?” Mamma glanced at her, concern written on her face.

  “Just wishin’ this day was over,” she whispered.

  “Well, let’s not wish our life away, jah?”

  Nodding, Sylvia realized how selfish she must seem to Mamma, who had to be the one suffering most. “Sorry, Mamma . . . really, I am.”

  She could not imagine sitting in Titus’s father’s carriage tonight, listening to the jokes between Danny and Titus and making small talk with Cousin Alma, too. All of that was perfectly enjoyable on a normal night, but the thought of it now felt overwhelming.

  Sighing, Sylvia’s thoughts retreated to a bitterly cold February evening when Titus had taken her out for a ride in his father’s sleigh. Over the back roads, then through the fields, they had flown . . . almost literally. Both of them had bundled up in multiple layers of clothing and black earmuffs, Titus in his father’s heaviest wool coat and black leather gloves. She had marveled at the white-blue ring of haze around the full moon . . . the way her breath hung in the air like frost before her eyes. Even though they were having such a wondrous adventure, she’d tried not to laugh too hard, because every time she took a breath, a sharpness pricked her lungs. “We should’ve wrapped our faces with woolen scarves,” Titus had said, and Sylvia agreed while enjoying the speed of the ride.

  On that night, she’d felt so nervous and naïve and unsure of herself, Titus being the eldest son of well-known Preacher Kauffman. Later, however, when she thought back on their first handful of dates, Sylvia was thankful Titus had been so pleasant around her, without any pride. They could talk for hours and then discover that it wasn’t just fifteen minutes, as it seemed. “There’s a name for that,” Titus had once pointed out. “Prob’ly somethin’ the English made up.” He’d chuckled.

  “Ah . . . soul mates?” she said hesitantly.

  “Jah, that’s it.”

  At the time, she had merely smiled, thinking it was too early in their dating relationship to decide such a wonderful thing.

  Back at the house, Sylvia was glad when Dat came out to help Ernie and Adam unhitch Lily, greeting all of them as he rushed across the yard. Just seeing him come so swiftly did her heart good.

  Sylvia followed Mamma into the house, glancing over her shoulder at her father. Calvin and Tommy were close behind, not talking one bit, unusual to be sure.

  How can Mamma be so calm? Sylvia thought as they headed to the front room for the family meeting. She wondered how long before Titus spoke to her about Dat’s discipline. If he hears about it, he surely will.

  ———

  Prior to the family meeting, Earnest stared at the streaming light in the front room, wondering if he ought to begin with prayer. Considering his children’s reactions were pending, it seemed like a necessity. Rhoda had already spent time praying for each of them and their responses to what they were about to hear. Inspired by that, Earnest began by asking them to bow their heads.

  When his prayer was done, he cleared his throat and raised his head, and his children unfolded their hands, their eyes on him. “What I’m going to tell you will surprise you,” he said in Deitsch, bracing himself. “You might not want to believe it.” Pausing, he added, “What I did a long time ago was wrong, and I’m sorry that knowing it will hurt you. If I could spare you, I would. But my silence all these years is one of the reasons I’m being disciplined by the ministerial brethren.”

  The children sat in close attention, the younger two boys looking completely puzzled. Earnest despised to think how this revelation could affect all of them.

  But still he continued. “When I was a teen, I dated a girl named Rosalind.”

  Sylvia’s eyes met his from where she sat in a chair close to Rhoda, arms folded as though to shield herself. To the right of Earnest, Ernie and Adam fidgeted with their suspenders, clearly anxious, while Calvin and Tommy sat cross-legged on the floor not far from Earnest’s feet, eyes wide.

  Generalizing the rest of it, Earnest spoke slowly, looking at each one as he explained. “After a short while, I married Rosalind, a marriage that neither of us was prepared for. Glotzkopp, that’s what I was, ignoring my father’s wise advice.”

  Frowning, Tommy covered his gaping mouth. Ernie and Adam, meanwhile, stared down at their bare feet, as if mortified. As for Calvin, his face turned a deep shade of red.

  “This is an awful shock, and I’m sorry. With every ounce of my being, I am.” Earnest coughed, trying to regain his composure.

  When he was able to speak again, he said, “The marriage didn’t last long.” He did not put the blame on Rosalind, nor say that she’d left him for another man. “And then I came here.”

  Earnest went on to reveal that he had kept a
ll of this from the Hickory Hollow ministers, and from their mother, too, from the time they began dating. “I was wicked not to be honest about my past,” he said. “Instead, I tried to hide it from everyone, and it’s eaten away at me all these years.”

  Tears welled up in Tommy’s eyes, and the older boys looked baffled. Adam’s knuckles were white as he tightened his fists against his knees.

  “The ministers will counsel me during the next six weeks while I’m under the Bann,” Earnest told them. He paused and then asked the children to remember him in their prayers. He looked at Rhoda. “With the ministers’ help . . . and God’s, your Mamma and I are workin’ through this together.” Earnest returned his focus to the children. “I’m asking each of you to forgive me for deceiving your Mamma . . . all of you, really.”

  Sobbing, Tommy jumped up and ran into Earnest’s arms. “You’re still my Dat, ain’t ya?” he asked, and Earnest reassured his son.

  As Sylvia sniffled where she sat, Ernie and Calvin looked at each other, apparently still trying to grasp this news. But Adam rose and left the room without saying a word.

  “If you have questions, just ask me,” Earnest said, setting Tommy, who was rubbing his eyes, on his lap.

  Ernie ran his hands through his hair. “When did Mamma learn all this?”

  “Not long before I left for Maryland,” Earnest replied, concerned that Ernie and the others might think he’d left on purpose those weeks. He sighed. Indeed, there was so much that could have been said to help them through this, but also so little that should be said.

  ———

  Sylvia did not linger, instead hurrying upstairs to her room, where the floodgates opened. She could have wept the rest of the day, but she had to get ahold of herself. Her brothers were in shock, and her own hope of a happy future could be in jeopardy of splintering apart, too.

  An hour or so later, Mamma knocked on the bedroom door, bringing up a plate of food—a ham and cheese sandwich, some grapes, and potato chips. “In case you want to eat somethin’ before goin’ to Singing.”