Rising Darkness by Nancy Mehl Page B

when the town was founded?”
    He nodded. “At first it had more to do with land ownership. Then it became about church membership. Eventually, as others moved here, the goal changed to keeping an account of everyone who has lived in Sanctuary. It was in the early nineteen hundreds when the church began to chronicle all the residents. Since then, we have kept up the custom. Having a history of our small town is helpful—and interesting. You will see notes about births, deaths, families, and even jobs and contributions to the community. It is a wonderful way to learn more about our town.”
    I could see the pastor’s Bible on the desk in front of him, and a notepad next to it. He was probably working on his sermon. Even though I had more questions, I decided to save them for later and let the pastor get back to his work.
    â€œThank you so much, Pastor Troyer. Again, I appreciate your help.”
    He nodded and smiled.
    â€œIf you will come with me,” Dorcas said gently, “I will take you to the basement.”
    I trailed along behind her as she walked down a long hall and turned the corner. The church was larger on the inside than I’d guessed. We passed several empty classrooms until we ended up at the stairs. As we descended, I realized for the first time that, just like Esther’s house, the church had electricity. I’d heard that many Conservative Mennonite communities had accepted electricity and phones, and some members evendrove cars, had electrical appliances, and surfed the Internet. But the one thing that hadn’t changed was the acceptance of television. It was still seen as an instrument of worldliness and discouraged from finding a place in a Mennonite home.
    â€œThe records room is here,” Dorcas said, bringing my attention back to the matter at hand.
    She opened an old wooden door that creaked in the dark. Then she reached around to the wall inside the room and flicked on the light. Although it helped illuminate our surroundings, it also cast a strange yellow glow over everything. It was a little eerie.
    I followed her to a sturdy-looking but ancient desk in the corner of the room. “This is where I work on the town records,” she told me. Just as I was wondering how in the world I was going to see anything in the poorly lit room, she turned on a small desk lamp. Thankfully, it gave off much better light. The top of the desk glowed brightly, but somehow, the small lamp made the room around us seem even darker.
    â€œThere aren’t any windows?” I asked.
    â€œThey are painted, so no light comes in. I’m sorry. It was done years ago when the room was given a new coat of paint. I would like to see this changed, but we have not found the time to scrape the paint off. I know it makes the room very dark.” She turned and pointed at several old wooden filing cabinets behind us. “The files are here.”
    I was surprised by the number of drawers. How many people had lived in this small town over the years?
    She pulled open a drawer in the cabinet nearest us. “The files are in date order,” she said. “If your grandmother’s relations were among the founding families, the information willbe here. As my husband said, first you will see land records. Over the years, the church has tried to go back over all the old records and correlate them with the population files, but I cannot guarantee that all of the names have been transferred. Your search may take some time.”
    I smiled at her. “That’s fine. I’m not in a hurry.”
    â€œI would be happy to stay and help, if you want.”
    That was the last thing I wanted. “Thank you so much, but it’s not necessary. As you said, it might take some time.” I reached into my purse and pulled out a notebook and a pen and put them on the desk.
    â€œAs you wish.” She turned to go but swung back around before she stepped out of the lamp’s