Pennsylvania. Nancy now followed Billy onto the dais. She had two items with her. The first was a set of shims. (One of Nancy’s hobbies was picking locks.) A lock this old, she reckoned, shouldn’t give her any problem at all. She figured it would take thirty seconds, a minute at the outside. Failing this, Billy had made sure that she also had a pair of bolt cutters. Even though it would be a shame to cut the antique lock, everyone had come to see the contents of the box, and the celebration committee didn’t want anyone to go away disappointed.
“ This here’s the box that was found under the foundation when we were digging for the new basement,” said Billy. “We think that it might be a time capsule, but we don’t know for sure. It was probably put in the ground around 1901. According to the records in the courthouse, that’s when the foundation was completed for the second church. There could be anything in this.” Billy picked up the box. “Greetings from Sunday School classes, bulletins, church documents, old pictures…”
“ Shake it, Billy,” came a voice from the crowd. “See if it rattles.”
“ Nah, I ain’t gonna shake it. But it’s time to open it up.”
The excitement was palpable, and people chattered enthusiastically. Billy set the box back down on the table and gestured toward Lieutenant Parsky. Nancy was as good as her reputation. As a hush fell over the crowd, she bent down, chose a shim from her case, and, twenty-three seconds later, the lock dropped open. A cheer went up from the congregation. Nancy blushed, waved, and came back to our table. Billy slid the lock off the hasp, opened the box and lifted out a leather pouch, about the size of an old marble bag we’d all carried as kids, cracked and stiff with age. He set the pouch on the table, reached back into the box and brought out a plain white envelope. He opened the envelope and unfolded a letter.
“ Read it aloud,” called a voice, as Billy skimmed the contents of the letter and looked somber.
“ It’s from Father Simon Faulks,” said Billy.
“ I remember the name,” Meg whispered to me. “His picture used to hang in the hallway with the other priests who had been rectors of St. Barnabas. He must have been the priest when the old church was rebuilt.”
I nodded in agreement.
“ The date at the top says 21 November, 1900.”
The crowd had become very quiet.
“ I can’t read this,” said Billy.
“ Sure you can,” called someone. “Just read it.”
“ I mean I can’t read it. It’s all old-time cursivy and stuff.”
“ I’ll read it,” said Ruby, standing up. “I’m old enough to remember good penmanship.” She ascended the platform, and Billy handed her the letter.
“ To whomever finds this,” began Ruby. “I don’t know how this story will end, nor even how it began, and I ask the Almighty’s forgiveness if I’ve erred in judgment.”
I am Rev. Simon Faulks, rector of St. Barnabas for five years and in office at the time of the terrible fire. Before taking my vows, however, I studied geology at the university, was granted a degree, and was subsequently employed by the Piedmont Mining Company, for whom I worked for several years. I only disclose this information to explain why I believe that it was God’s Holy will that I, a humble man of faith, yet of particular background and education, be here in St. Germaine at this particular time.
We laid dynamite for the foundation on Tuesday last. The entire town came out to enjoy the spectacle and the noise, and, although some children got a bit close, the explosions went off without incident and a fine time was had by all. On Wednesday, before the laborers arrived, I took it on myself to go into the pit and poke around. The geologist in me, I suppose. What I found was nothing short of astonishing.
Ruby asked for a glass of water, took a sip, set it on the table behind her and then continued.
Resting lightly on the rubble were gemstones.
“ This here’s the box that was found under the foundation when we were digging for the new basement,” said Billy. “We think that it might be a time capsule, but we don’t know for sure. It was probably put in the ground around 1901. According to the records in the courthouse, that’s when the foundation was completed for the second church. There could be anything in this.” Billy picked up the box. “Greetings from Sunday School classes, bulletins, church documents, old pictures…”
“ Shake it, Billy,” came a voice from the crowd. “See if it rattles.”
“ Nah, I ain’t gonna shake it. But it’s time to open it up.”
The excitement was palpable, and people chattered enthusiastically. Billy set the box back down on the table and gestured toward Lieutenant Parsky. Nancy was as good as her reputation. As a hush fell over the crowd, she bent down, chose a shim from her case, and, twenty-three seconds later, the lock dropped open. A cheer went up from the congregation. Nancy blushed, waved, and came back to our table. Billy slid the lock off the hasp, opened the box and lifted out a leather pouch, about the size of an old marble bag we’d all carried as kids, cracked and stiff with age. He set the pouch on the table, reached back into the box and brought out a plain white envelope. He opened the envelope and unfolded a letter.
“ Read it aloud,” called a voice, as Billy skimmed the contents of the letter and looked somber.
“ It’s from Father Simon Faulks,” said Billy.
“ I remember the name,” Meg whispered to me. “His picture used to hang in the hallway with the other priests who had been rectors of St. Barnabas. He must have been the priest when the old church was rebuilt.”
I nodded in agreement.
“ The date at the top says 21 November, 1900.”
The crowd had become very quiet.
“ I can’t read this,” said Billy.
“ Sure you can,” called someone. “Just read it.”
“ I mean I can’t read it. It’s all old-time cursivy and stuff.”
“ I’ll read it,” said Ruby, standing up. “I’m old enough to remember good penmanship.” She ascended the platform, and Billy handed her the letter.
“ To whomever finds this,” began Ruby. “I don’t know how this story will end, nor even how it began, and I ask the Almighty’s forgiveness if I’ve erred in judgment.”
I am Rev. Simon Faulks, rector of St. Barnabas for five years and in office at the time of the terrible fire. Before taking my vows, however, I studied geology at the university, was granted a degree, and was subsequently employed by the Piedmont Mining Company, for whom I worked for several years. I only disclose this information to explain why I believe that it was God’s Holy will that I, a humble man of faith, yet of particular background and education, be here in St. Germaine at this particular time.
We laid dynamite for the foundation on Tuesday last. The entire town came out to enjoy the spectacle and the noise, and, although some children got a bit close, the explosions went off without incident and a fine time was had by all. On Wednesday, before the laborers arrived, I took it on myself to go into the pit and poke around. The geologist in me, I suppose. What I found was nothing short of astonishing.
Ruby asked for a glass of water, took a sip, set it on the table behind her and then continued.
Resting lightly on the rubble were gemstones.
Similar Books
