The Tinderbox Read online

  “Well, Titus wants me to talk it over with you and Dat. He thinks so much of Dat, by the way.”

  Mamma beamed. “And we’ll have the wedding here.”

  “Of course,” Sylvia said. But it was then she realized she didn’t know when she would tell Dat of the engagement. Better for Mamma to do that. Because ever since learning that the gold pocket watch had not come from Dat’s sister, she’d felt leery approaching him about much of anything. The worldly past he’d seemed to avoid discussing was more concerning now that she knew he was keeping a box of items locked away, including a pocket watch with a puzzling inscription.

  “Sylvie?” Mamma asked. “What’s a-matter?”

  “Ach, sorry.” She put on a quick smile.

  I must never tell Mamma what I found, she promised herself. Some things are better left unknown.

  Despite her earlier reluctance to speak with him, Sylvia was sitting on the back porch waiting for Dat when he arrived home. Even though it wasn’t long before the noon meal, she hoped she might talk to him and quickly rose from the willow rocker to walk toward the shop.

  Her father’s face was drawn, and if she wasn’t mistaken, he was limping a bit.

  “Did ya hurt yourself?” she asked.

  “Oh, just stumbled getting out of the wagon at the last house,” he told her. “Clumsy today.”

  “Need some ice?”

  He offered what appeared to be a halfhearted smile, yet she read the tenderness in his eyes, mingled with obvious grief. “You’re a gift to me, Sylvie. Always so kind and helpful.” Then he shook his head. “But don’t fret over me.” Dat slipped past her and into the shop. “I’ll be okay.”

  She hesitated to follow him when he seemed so down. Standing there, she stared into the workroom, where the tinderbox loomed large on the shelf.

  “A penny for your thoughts?” His tone was conciliatory yet strained as he limped toward the door leading to his shop and took a seat.

  “Never mind, we can talk another time,” she said, turning to go.

  She made it to the outer door before he called to her. “Sylvie? We can talk if you want to.”

  Every fiber in her tensed, and she felt guilty. “Honestly, it can wait.”

  But Dat turned in his seat, his hands open in a supplicating manner. “You seem . . . troubled.”

  Coming toward him, she felt downright ferhoodled. She feared that what she had to say might set something in motion that she could not stop. Dare she take that risk?

  Dat folded his arms and gave her the look she’d seen her whole life. Never impatient, always ready to hear what was on her mind.

  Not if he knew what I have to say, she thought.

  “What is it, daughter?”

  “I’m sure it was awful hard havin’ to spread the word ’bout Preacher Zook,” she said. “I feel for ya, Dat.”

  He bowed his head and inhaled slowly. “I’ve had better days. I’ll be goin’ over to Zooks’ to help Mahlon’s family after we eat.” Slowly, almost as if it pained him, he raised his head to look at her. “I know you well, Sylvie . . . somethin’s bothering you, and it’s not that.”

  She studied him, the dearest father ever. “Ach, if I knew it would upset ya, I’d hightail it out of here.”

  He leaned forward now, his chair moving on its rollers. “We’ve never had trouble talking before.” He smiled faintly but seemed to be on edge, as if he somehow sensed what she was about to say.

  Sylvia hoped she was doing the right thing, as distressed as he was. As for herself, she knew she had to clear the air and own up to what she’d done, or she wouldn’t sleep again tonight. “I did something I shouldn’t have, Dat.”

  His smile faded, and strangely, he glanced at the tinderbox.

  He knows, she thought, heart sinking. For a terrible moment, the room was absolutely soundless.

  “So you’re the one,” he said at last.

  This pronouncement startled her no end. “I wish I’d never looked inside.”

  He scrutinized her, his dark hair glimmering in the sunlight from the high window nearby. “Now that you’ve seen those items, you must have questions,” he said, his voice more gentle now.

  The fact that he hadn’t scolded her was a jolt. She bit her lip. Did she dare say? “Jah, mostly questions ’bout the pocket watch.” She decided not to mention the inscription.

  He ran his fingers through his untrimmed beard. “I kept that . . . uh, well, as a reminder to myself.”

  “A reminder of what?” she said, the confusion in her heart increasing.

  Abruptly, her father rose and walked to the other door, where he closed it and pulled down the green shade on its window. “This really isn’t your concern, Sylvia Ann.”

  Sylvia Ann? she thought, taken aback by his unfamiliar tone.

  Misery and frustration rushed over her. “Well, you won’t tell Mamma, will ya?” Sylvia began to plead. “And I won’t breathe a word, either. Just keep it a secret, like before.” Surely her father would see the sense in that.

  Dat’s eyes widened as if in surprise. “What are you saying?”

  “Don’t tell Mamma ’bout any of this if you know it might hurt her.” Sylvia bit her lip, realizing she’d crossed a line. “She thinks she’s the only woman you’ve ever loved.”

  Their eyes locked, and a chill passed through her as grim recognition settled on her father’s face. Neither said a word, but in that moment, he had to realize that she’d seen the inscription.

  CHAPTER

  Nine

  Rhoda tied on her white half apron after the noon meal and got busy making a chicken and noodle casserole to take over to Mamie Zook. Other womenfolk would be doing much the same, as well as assuming the tasks of cleaning the house and tending to Mamie’s vegetable garden.

  What she must be going through! Rhoda thought sadly, praying silently for comfort and peace.

  “Would ya like to go with me to Mamie’s?” Rhoda asked Sylvia, who looked too glum for being newly engaged. The sparkle and excitement of this morning had seemingly disappeared.

  “Oh, I’ll just stay here and take the clothes off the line for ya. Fold them, too,” Sylvia said, her voice wavering. “Someone should be here when the younger boys get home from school, too, since Ernie’s over at Zooks’, helpin’ out. That way you can visit with Mamie for a while.”

  “That’s a help,” Rhoda said, wondering if Sylvia was feeling affected by her father’s grief. Earnest had been so subdued at the dinner table. Like a man in shock . . .

  When Rhoda was ready to leave with the food, Earnest went out to hitch Lily to the family carriage for the short ride, then he solemnly kissed Rhoda and turned to head back to his shop. She was thankful for his help; she’d felt all in since Mahlon’s grandson had come with the news. Perhaps, too, it was the realization that Mamie Zook was not only a widow now but also living alone, considering that all of her children were married.

  Rhoda looked across the field at the tall house Earnest had frequently trekked back and forth to over the years. Now she would be the one going to the preacher’s house till other plans were made for Mamie. It was certain Earnest would also be over there helping for at least the next few weeks. Ernie too.

  Will the family sell the farm? she wondered as she drove to Mamie’s with the food she’d prepared, hoping one of Mamie’s sons might take it over. She prayed again for her friend, as well as for Hannah, whose home she passed on the left. She wondered if the stuffed bear had given Hannah any measure of comfort, or if her sister had thought the gesture silly. Sometimes it wasn’t easy to know what Hannah thought.

  Just then, Rhoda noticed Henry Zook, one of Ella Mae’s grandsons, coming this way in his buggy with Ella Mae herself, who smiled and waved. Rhoda waved back, glad to see them, and watched in her side mirror after they passed and were turning into Curtis and Hannah’s lane. Gut, she thought, wondering if Ella Mae might end up over at Mamie’s later, as many womenfolk would.

  Both Hannah and Mamie ar
e in sore need of a soothing balm.

  Rhoda found Mamie on the back porch in her wooden glider, a daughter on either side of her, waiting for the local mortician to return Preacher Zook’s body. Bless her heart, thought Rhoda, knowing there was much to do to prepare for Wednesday’s funeral. Because Mahlon Zook was so well-known in the area, there could be as many as six hundred mourners, including English neighbors.

  Rhoda carried the chicken and noodle casserole into the kitchen and placed it in the fridge next to the dishes brought over by others in the district. Then she set to work helping four church women plan the meal for invited guests and family, following the burial. Rhoda had helped in the past with a number of funeral meals, but there was something rather sacred about working in the home of the deceased man of God.

  She glanced out the nearby window, hoping to spot Earnest, who’d surely arrived by now to help plan and set up the house and the barn for the two simultaneous funeral services. Due to the anticipated crowd, one would be conducted by the bishop, and the other by Preacher Kauffman.

  A short time later, Henry Zook arrived with Ella Mae. The Wise Woman walked with him up the steps and straight to Mamie, where she sat on a rocking chair near her and her daughters and bowed her head to pray. Witnessing Ella Mae take Mamie’s hands after the prayer and talk quietly with her, Rhoda struggled with a lump in her throat. Just what’s needed, she thought, grateful for Ella Mae’s deep faith and compassionate spirit. Most of the womenfolk in the church were like worker bees, but Ella Mae always took time to tend to a person’s heart.

  More women arrived, some with their teenage daughters, all bringing groceries and hot meals. Rhoda wished now that she’d insisted on Sylvia’s coming, too, especially when Rhoda’s nieces Alma and Jessie arrived with Rhoda’s sister Ruthann Yoder.

  “Where’s Sylvie?” Jessie asked, and Rhoda explained that she was doing chores at home.

  “Maybe we can drop by an’ say hullo later,” Alma suggested, and both girls looked at their Mamm.

  “It’ll be a busy enough day, girls, so not this time,” Ruthann said, touching Rhoda’s arm and motioning for her to walk toward the far end of the porch. Clearly something was up.

  “I ran into Hannah at the general store this mornin’,” Ruthann whispered once they reached the end. “She looks like she hasn’t eaten in days.”

  Rhoda merely nodded and wished Hannah would tell Ruthann and their other sisters about the miscarriage.

  “Is she ill?” Ruthann pressed.

  “Well, I know she’d enjoy a visit from you,” Rhoda said quickly, glancing back at the girls waiting for their Mamm. “Maybe go by an’ see her tomorrow?”

  Ruthann nodded. “I’ll do that.”

  Rhoda sighed and hoped she’d said the right thing. Hannah, delicate as she was, needed loving care, not to be peppered with questions. Surely she’ll open up and tell Ruthann about her loss. . . .

  Earnest arrived with a group of men to clean out the barn and haul away the manure. They tended to the livestock and swept the upper level, where the overflow funeral service would take place, then decided on the best plan for setting up the benches there and in the house, where visitation would begin this afternoon and run through the early evening hours tomorrow.

  He flinched when the local mortician returned with Mahlon’s body in a modest pine coffin ready-made by one of the Amish carpenters in the district. Three of Mahlon’s brothers had requested that Earnest be present with them to help dress the body for the visitation and the coming funeral.

  Earnest wasn’t entirely surprised to be asked, and he regarded the invitation as an honor. Although in his tormented state, he hardly felt worthy. Yet how could he refuse without causing confusion? The family knew how close he and Mahlon had always been.

  In his mind, he replayed his conversation with Sylvia. The dear girl had pleaded with him, “Don’t tell Mamma. . . .”

  She’s been ensnared by my deceit, he thought, recalling the uneasy look in her eyes.

  Following Judah, Edwin, and Matthew Zook into the brick farmhouse, Earnest realized now he had no other choice.

  Rhoda and Ruthann and her girls were carefully preparing the house for the visitation and viewing that afternoon. Rhoda helped the women sweep and wash the floors in each of Mamie’s rooms, conscious of the closed door to the spare bedroom where the body lay.

  Earlier Rhoda had seen Earnest go in with Mahlon’s brothers, but her husband had never once glanced her way, although he had to know she was there. His strange manner had taken her off guard—and not only now, but also earlier at the dinner table, when he remained silent after Sylvia had seemed quite aloof toward him.

  With all of her heart, Rhoda wanted to show her husband understanding, since Mahlon’s passing was so heavy on his heart. All the same, something more seemed to be troubling Earnest, something completely separate from his friend’s death. Yet she hadn’t the slightest idea what.

  That evening, while Rhoda was preparing for bed, Earnest entered their bedroom and went straight to his favorite chair. Instead of reaching for one of the Amish newspapers, he folded his hands on his chest and said, “I need to talk to you, Rhoda.”

  She reached for her cotton duster and put it on. “Ah, it must be about what Sylvie shared with me this mornin’.”

  Earnest’s face turned sheet white. “Sh-she told you?” he stammered, looking terribly alarmed.

  “Well, jah.” Momentarily, Rhoda wondered at his reaction; then she nodded her head and smiled. “Isn’t it just wunnerbaar, Titus Kauffman asking her to marry him?”

  Her husband’s shoulders sagged with apparent relief. “Oh, I didn’t know.” Sighing, he appeared to force a smile. “She did say the other day that he was courting her. And I was going to tell you, but I was in a fog over Mahlon.”

  “So . . . she didn’t share with you about the engagement?” Rhoda asked, perplexed at this, not to mention his odd reaction.

  “Nee.” Glancing now toward the windows, Earnest stared out at the deepening twilight. “To think that our daughter’s marrying a preacher’s son.” He seemed somehow relieved.

  “I said nearly the same thing when she told me,” Rhoda said, chuckling a little in an effort to lighten things up.

  Earnest rose just then and went to get his pajamas out of the dresser. When he was finished getting ready for bed, he ambled across the room. He sat on the bed, his hands on his head now. “Honestly, this feels like the longest day of my life,” he said as he pulled back the quilt and sheet.

  Rhoda tried to comprehend the reason for his odd, even lukewarm response to their daughter’s exciting news. Earnest had always loved connecting with Sylvia and rejoicing in her happiness. But not today, Rhoda thought, taking down her hair and brushing it many times before finally turning out the gaslight and slipping into bed. Lying there, she stretched her hand across the sheet, not quite touching her husband’s bare back, and realized he was knotted up in a ball, practically hugging his side of the bed.

  She recalled what he’d first said when coming into the room, and it struck her that Earnest must have had something on his mind unrelated to Sylvia’s engagement. Something I interrupted, she thought, sliding her hand back across the sheet to her own side. Staring blindly into the dim room, she finally closed her eyes and prayed her silent nighttime prayer.

  CHAPTER

  Ten

  Just after dawn the next morning, Earnest rolled over in bed and saw that Rhoda was still sleeping soundly, both hands tucked beneath her pillow. As she sighed in her sleep, he couldn’t help gazing at her, his heart full of love.

  He hoped she wasn’t feeling poorly—he’d heard her get up in the night. Had his lackluster acknowledgment of Sylvia’s engagement been the cause?

  Without a doubt, he had botched his attempt to talk with her last evening . . . to reveal some of his past decisions. Hopefully without devastating her. And then Rhoda had taken the conversation in an entirely different direction, and he hadn’t attempted to
get it back on track. I was caught off guard, he thought as he reached over to carefully move a golden strand of hair from across her cheek.

  Oh, Rhoda, my darling. How he wished to spare her what he must lay bare. Yet with both Rhoda’s and his involvement in funeral preparations, neither today nor tomorrow was a good time to open such a can of worms.

  Earnest cringed at the thought of their once-happy marriage coming under such a strain. Even worse, the possibility of Rhoda sending him away. The latter prospect was the very reason he had kept his secret under wraps.

  He contemplated the maze of the next two days and, in so doing, felt drained of all emotion. Sylvia’s opening the tinderbox had altered everything.

  Yet I have no one to blame but myself.

  Ernie and the younger boys were still hauling water for the troughs in the stable when Earnest entered the kitchen for breakfast. Going immediately to the sink, he washed his hands and then went to sit at the table without a word to Rhoda, who was frying German sausage at the stove.

  Sylvia removed a container of orange juice from the fridge and began to pour the juice into glasses. “I understand Mamma told ya ’bout Titus’s marriage proposal,” she said unexpectedly.

  Earnest bobbed his head and sat up straight. “Jah, and we’re so happy for you.” In that instant, as he looked across the room at Sylvia, he felt as if his only daughter was growing away from him, a little girl no longer.

  “We’re very happy,” Rhoda added with a glance at Earnest.

  Sylvia carried the full juice glasses on a tray to the table and set it down. “By the way, Eva Kauffman has some ideas about where Titus and I will stay for the first few weeks after we’re married, till we get our own place.”

  Puzzled, Earnest looked at Rhoda before replying to his daughter. “Not here, in keeping with tradition?”

  Sylvia explained what Eva had said about them having more privacy over there.

  “So, Eva’s making the decisions?”

  “Dat, for pity’s sake,” Sylvia said, her face bright pink.