Chapter Two

As Rachel and I crawled through the dusty attic, our miners’ headlights beamed across an old trunk and some forgotten boxes. Suddenly, my light landed on a worn, leather-bound book hidden halfway behind a stack of weathered newspapers. We exchanged a curious glance before I took the journal from its resting place. I blew off the thick layer of dust; the pages held many mysteries. The handwriting was calligraphic and cryptic, but one riddled page caught our attention. 

The Golden Lamp 

A shadowed beacon, a watchman’s stride, 

A stolen key, where secrets hide; 

Wintergreen’s dark and bitter trace, 

Lost in the ashes of a forgotten place. 

A crooked trail, the miner’s way, 

No steps, nor lift—just a winding sway. 

A breathless climb, a vision to amaze, 

Where silence lingers through forgotten days. 

Where am I?

My eyes sparkled with excitement as I read the words aloud on the page. Rachel’s eyebrows perked up in amazement. 

“Abigail, could this lead us to a golden treasure?” Both our faces lit up as our minds raced with endless possibilities. Who had written this journal, and what other secrets lay hidden within its pages? I thought.

“Maybe so, Rachel, maybe so.” Then we climbed down the ladder to show Mama. 

“Where did you two find this?”

“Up in the crawl space of the attic.” Replied Rachel. 

Then pointing, “Mama, what does this riddle mean?”

“Let me see.” As she read it, she looked intrigued. “I think the last part is an adit.”

“What is that?” We asked.

“An adit is a nearly horizontal tunnel into a mountain for drainage, ventilation, and mining. The riddle likely refers to an old, sealed mine,” she explained.

Then I spotted the initials S.C. imprinted on the journal’s cover as Mama held it. With Rachel by my side, out the door we went, taking the worn leather notebook with us, determined to find the hidden key and golden lamp. It was partially sunny, an early afternoon in late fall, but the air was chillingly dry to the skin. So we rushed back into the house to grab our coats. I didn’t think Rachel had noticed the Jewish star Mama had sewn on mine as we headed back out.

“Abigail.”

“Yes, Rachel.”

“Why do you wear your miner’s helmet everywhere you go? And when you are overthinking or nervous, you always hum.”

“I hum? Hmm. I didn’t notice, but it’s good to wear our hats at the mine.”

“You wear it everywhere! At the kitchen table, out in town. You’d wear it in church if your mom would let you.”

“I guess you got a point, but it makes me feel safe, adventurous, and braver.”

“You’re silly, you know that? You are already the bravest girl I know. So when did you become a Jew?”

“You’re weird! I’ve always been Jewish and didn’t know it.”

“Yeah, I know. Daddy told me. Oh, I almost forgot. It’s supposed to snow. The pastor called tonight’s church service off, saying it could be a doozy. Hopefully, they’ll close school for a week if we pray hard enough.”

“Then we’d best head home before your blizzard hits. Our quest will have to wait.”  

That night, I sat snugly wrapped in my coat and quilt, perched on the edge of our stone fireplace. The fire’s prehistoric dance mesmerized me. The flames would leap, then fall, casting reflections of silhouettes against the neighboring three walls. Snow blew through the cracks of the old house, making itself at home until it melted into large puddles. Mama would mop up the water and toss it out the back door, almost in vain. Once, a gust splashed her head to toe as the wind seemed angry. It howled and groaned as it knocked the loose shingles off the roof while slamming our shutters against the windows’ frames. It was an early December snowstorm that wanted in and succeeded.

Papa slept like a baby, resting for work like all was right in the world, bundled beneath a layer of covers. I fear that even a tornado would not have awakened him. Maybe miners aren’t afraid of such things. I may never know whether Papa was brave or too tired to care, but that night helped make me more courageous. But Mama was exhausted and mad at Papa for his lack of help and concern. Even amidst being soaked and chilled, she refrained from uttering a harsh word about him.