Sarah and the Soldier’s Tin Box

By Anna Hammond

It is the middle of the night in a European village as Jacob Schmidt trudges through the snow to summon the midwife to help his wife give birth. A short time later, Sarah Schmidt enters the worldthe long-awaited answer to their dream of having a child. There is no question she is a miracle baby.

The Industrial Revolution has transformed life into a time of discovery and inventions. As Sarah grows up, her village also grows and changes. When destiny leads her to marry a fellow villager, Sarah believes they will live happily-ever-afteruntil he tragically dies. After her path crosses with that of an army colonel stationed in Europe, they quickly fall in love, marry, and have two children. As war looms and her husband is called back to active duty, he tells her his private papers are tucked away in a tin box under their bed. Two years later, he perishes. When Sarah finally opens the tin box, she finds a shocking secret that eventually leads her to a coal mining town in middle Americaand to accomplish endeavors she never imagined.

In this historical saga, a young woman battles obstacles, endures tragedies, and searches for lasting love as her lifes journey leads her from Europe to America during a time of great change.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Archway Publishing
• Release date: Mar 26, 2018
• ISBN: 9781480859746

Anna Hammond

Anna Hammond is a ninety-three-year-old writer who earned a masters degree, taught high school and university composition and literature, traveled in a motor home across America, crossed the ocean to visit several countries, and lived comfortably in Florida for twenty years. Anna currently resides in an assisted living facility in Angola, Indiana. This is her first book.

Book preview

1

It was three o’clock in the morning in a small village outside Velarta, a large city in Central Europe, circa 1800s. It was cold and wintry in a blizzard of snow and sleet. Jacob Schmidt got out of bed and punched up the fireplace, adding large chunks of coal for quick heat and warmth. Then he built a wood fire in the kitchen range. Aware that lots of warm water would be needed, he filled the two water reservoirs on the cookstove, and the two teakettles from the well pump on the side porch.

His wife, Claire, was sweating in her gown and bed from the pain and misery of another imminent childbirth. I think it’s worse this time, she groaned. "I have been through this twice before, and it all just ended in sadness and disbelief. I must be more hopeful like Jacob. My other two little babies lie in small graves in the cemetery up behind the barn.

Our first was a baby boy named Jules, and I only got to see him all covered in blood and skim as they tried to get him to breathe. But he never made a sound. He couldn’t cry either. They just wrapped him in clean sheets, rolled them around him, tucked in the corners, and took him away. I wanted to hold him, she said.

My second baby, Julianne, was stillborn. She was taken from my body, wrapped up, and buried just like Jules. I didn’t get to hold her either. Claire sighed.

"I continue to visit those two little graves to try to talk to them, but there are only mounds of brown dirt. Jacob tries to convince me that they are up in heaven now. If that’s true, they would still be alive, wouldn’t they?

What can I do to prevent this from happening again? If we can’t have a sweet, warm little baby this time, I won’t sleep with Jacob anymore. I’ll say that I’m sick. I’ll sleep in another bed. Or I will just roll away from him and tell him to go to bed with somebody else.

Tears surfaced as her worry increased.

If I’m lying there beside him, he will just roll over closer, stick that pee bone inside me, make his rhythmic movements a few times, and deposit that white water in the right hole that creates a baby. I know what it looks like. I’ve seen it on my gown. If we continue doing this, I’ll just miss my monthly bleed, and my body will begin making another baby. Since we can’t make a healthy baby, I don’t feel right about this. I need to stop it. We might have a baby with defects or one that will be laughed at or sent away to a crazy house. Then Jacob and I will suffer too. No, no, God, please help me.

In the meantime, Jacob had made the house warm, dressed in warm clothes, and walked three blocks to the home of Mrs. Wilson, the midwife, to tell her to find her helper, Jane, and then come to his house to help Claire give birth to another new baby.

A few days before, Claire had told Jacob that she was in more misery and discomfort, believing that the baby had dropped lower in her body. He had already told his boss that he would have to miss work for a few days.

When he arrived back at their house, he checked on Claire and found her still groaning in pain and weak. He kissed her and then went into the kitchen. He brought back a cloth and warm water and began bathing her face, neck, and arms as she looked at him with tenderness and love. Smoothing back her hair, he held her face in his hands, whispering, I love you. Claire regretted that she had complained and hoped that she would never again have such wicked thoughts about Jacob.

Looking into her suffering face, he made an absolute promise to himself, I will not continue to do this to my Claire. I will not cause her to suffer for my pleasure. When we again embrace to mate, I will withdraw myself and reduce my pleasure so that this will not happen again. I will ask her forgiveness.

Just as he returned to the kitchen, the midwife and Jane were entering the back door. He quickly told them that the house was cozy and warm. There were enough clean sheets, and warm water was ready for them. Please, he said, go in and take care of Claire. She needs you. Give us a baby.

The midwife and Jane stood on each side of the bed, holding Claire’s hands and encouraging her to push a little harder, knowing that both Claire and Jacob needed more than anything in the world to have a healthy baby. In the ten years Mrs. Wilson had known Claire, she had been with child, giving birth, or grieving over the two babies who didn’t live. And during this pregnancy, Claire had been unwell much of the time. The midwife mused to herself, I hope this one comes out crying and kicking.

In the kitchen Jacob sat at the table sipping warm tea after eating his breakfast of buttered bread and sweet, creamy mush. Thinking that Claire might sip some tea, he placed a small dish of porridge and the tea on a tray and carried it into the bedroom. Seeing it, she immediately shook her head no. He moved closer to her bed and placed the warm cup to her lips. She swallowed a mouthful and pleaded, I can’t.

Just as he turned to go back into the kitchen, Claire screamed as another wrenching pain forced her to double over, and Mrs. Wilson said, This baby is coming out, and there’s lots of black hair like its father’s. Jacob hurried back into the kitchen, put away the tray, and stood quietly, waiting to hear more. He just sat still at the table for a while, and he hoped he might hear a baby cry.

Suddenly, fear gripped his mind and soul as he fought off remembering the birth of Jules—how the little guy fought, trying to breathe for almost ten minutes as Mrs. Wilson patted his buttocks, turned him over and over, and blew air into his mouth. Then she finally wrapped him in a sheet and whispered to the silent parents. Sit close together and hold him. He’s still warm, but he’s gone. He will be cold quickly.

A loud cry from the bedroom brought Jacob back to the present. He bolted from the table, knocking over his chair, and he rushed through the door just as Mrs. Wilson shouted, Mr. Schmidt, you and Claire have a beautiful little baby girl with strong movements and a loud cry. She has lots of black hair. When she gets color in her eyes, I hope they’re blue, she said, laughing with her mouth wide open.

Almost in a stare, Jacob and Claire looked at each other in a soft, quiet, and blank expression. They could hardly believe that their ten-year dream had now numbed their very souls, simply frozen in stillness—an epiphany.

Stay there, the midwife instructed Jacob, and I will finish washing and dressing—

Sarah Elizabeth Schmidt, Claire and Jacob quickly interrupted.

That is a proper name for her, Mrs. Wilson said with a nod, and Jane agreed.

They motioned for Jacob to take a chair while they bathed Claire and replaced her gown and the bed linens and brushed her hair.

Jacob slipped back into the kitchen, thinking he should thank God, but also thinking he would like to go out into the streets, run a few blocks in the cold wind, and announce the birth of their baby—Sarah Elizabeth Schmidt.

When Sarah was washed, Mrs. Wilson rubbed her entire little body with oil that had a sweet fragrance. Then she wrapped her in a receiving blanket, adding a heavier blanket covering her entire body and almost her head and face. Jacob returned and grinned when Sarah cried.

Sitting on the edge of Claire’s bed, together they held her, laughing, almost giddy, both saying, This is the best time of our lives. We are ecstatic. How can we control ourselves? Now we are a family.

Mrs. Wilson and Jane stepped into the kitchen just as Jacob was saying, Look, she is just the right size.

She’s perfect, Claire whispered. Touch that little nose, her ears, her lips—all beautiful.

Pulling her blankets back, Jacob said, I want to see her fingers and toes, all twenty of them.

Claire suggested, Place your finger in her little fingers, all five of them.

He did, and to his surprise, she clasped his finger with all five of hers. Jacob trembled, promising, "You hold onto me, girl, and I will never let you go. You are a magnet attached to me, and I to you, forever.

You are my Sarah … and Claire’s Elizabeth. We are three in one. As I hold you and look into your soft little face, I see innocence and purity, and that humbles me. I know that later you will shake your head no to me, and later on when I instruct you, you will ask why. He smiled to himself.

Just as Claire began rewrapping her in her blankets, Sarah started smacking her lips and thrusting her arms and legs in the air, causing her new parents to realize that she was hungry. They grinned in delight. Jacob moved aside as Claire adjusted her position and blankets to feed Sarah for the first time.

Jacob returned to the kitchen as Mrs. Wilson checked to make sure that all was well and that the baby was in a safe position. He said to Jane, I’m hungry. Aren’t you two? Jane smiled. While you were with Claire, your neighbors, Herb and Madeline, brought hot soup and bread for our lunch. They noticed all the activity around here and realized what was happening. The soup is hot, and the bread is fresh and warm. And we must feed Claire as soon as possible.

Peeking into the bedroom, Jacob whispered, Both Claire and the baby are asleep. While we are eating, we will make plans for the next couple of days. Mrs. Wilson replied that she had another appointment later that day, but Jane would be available to help. I will, however, stop by for a few minutes and check everything for a day or two, the midwife promised. She looked in again to see that the two were still sleeping.

Jacob paid Mrs. Wilson and thanked her for her wonderful service and for bringing profound blessings to his family. Turning to Jane, he inquired whether she could stay a few more hours and put the house back in order and do the laundry. I can prepare our meals, but I need you to come and do chores and bathe Sarah and help Claire.

I will, she replied.

When almost all of the neighbors in Weir heard about the little Schmidt baby, they wanted to participate in this joyful event. They had seen the two little graves marked Schmidt in the cemetery. One after another, the residents came, bringing food and gifts and offering to do chores to help Claire and the baby. They’d bring in wood and coal or anything so that Jacob could return to work Monday and Claire would have assistance. Jacob was overwhelmed. He shook his head in disbelief. There were sandwiches, casseroles, cookies, breads, pies, cakes, ham, baked chicken, baby clothes, and blankets. Wanting Claire to look at all of it, he and Jane carried each item in for her to see. She, too, could not believe such kindness was being showered upon them. Claire wept when she saw the handmade sweaters, caps, and booties. I want to get out of bed, she pleaded.

Maybe tomorrow, Jane promised.

As he and Jane put away all the foods, except what they would eat for supper, Jacob smiled and said, I won’t need to make my lunch for work tomorrow. It’s here. We won’t have to cook for a whole week.

Tomorrow we will help Claire get out of bed for a short walk into the kitchen maybe, and you can help her bathe. You can also bathe Sarah. We will place her in the cradle as much as she will stay. At nighttime for a while, I will sleep in the other bedroom so Claire can hopefully hold the baby close to her for better rest, Jacob reasoned.

2

It was not difficult for Jacob to be happy and comfortable with any other person or changes. That was his nature. Of average