Page 31 of Protecting the Flame

“God.” Mattie covered her ears with her hands. “Now they’re in stereo.”

Emma’s mouth cocked in a grin. “Stick with me,” she said, pushing Ben’s copy of The Waste Land to one side then slotting her candy bar into her bag. “I’m a font of irrelevant effluvia…” She frowned.

“What?” asked Will.

“I don’t know.” She withdrew a plain brown paper packet about the size of her hand but oddly shaped: something square that felt like a box on top and an odder, heavier object on the bottom. It felt a bit like a very large lipstick case. “I don’t remember packing this.

“I saw that when I went through your pack. It’s a present. See?” Taking the packet from Emma, Mattie turned it over and pointed at a message done in fine black Sharpie .

For dark times,Emma read. Kim.

“Who’s Kim?” asked Mattie.

“A friend.” Kim must’ve slipped this in last night. She remembered now that Kim had asked to use the bathroom right before they went out.

“Here.” Will slipped a knife from a front pocket where he’d clipped it. “Never know when you might need paper to help start a fire.”

“Thanks.” She could’ve used Burke’s KA-BAR, but it was too much knife for the job. Will’s pocket carry was a Ken Onion Blur. Ben had a knife like this. “Nice knife.”

“Wow,” Mattie said as Emma thumbed open the speed-safe and the Blur’s blade locked in place. “It’s black.”

“Yup,” Will said. “It’s one of my favorites. Rule Nine.”

“What?” Then Mattie did another eyeroll. “Don’t tell me this is more irrelevant cultural effluvia.”

“Television show.” She wouldn’t have pegged Will as an NCIS-type. “Never go anywhere without a knife.”

“Oh.” Mattie thought about that. “Sooo…do I get a knife?”

They looked at one another, and then Will said, “I don’t see why not, especially since I’ll be resting this hand for a couple days anyway. You ever use one?”

“Well, gosh, no, my mom cuts up my food all the time,” said Mattie.

“I told you. She’s got you.” Folding the knife, Emma held it out to Mattie. “All the same, we’ll go the basics in the morning, okay? The last thing I need is to explain to your mother why you no longer have an opposable thumb.”

“Fine.” Mattie heaved a put-upon sigh. “What’s in the package…oh!” Mattie exclaimed as Emma peeled back paper. “Is it your birthday?”

“They’re not that type of candle.” She was amazed her voice was so steady. She also saw that what she’d thought might be a really large lipstick case wasn’t. She turned the length of lacquered wood in the wash of blue-light from their flashlight and studied the green vines, red flowers, and white coves painted onto a lapis-blue background. A tiny brass hinge was set in one end.

“What is that?” Will asked as she pulled the hinged wood open to its full length. “Wait, is that a menorah?”

“What’s that?” Mattie asked.

“A special kind of candelabra.” She cleared her throat. “It’s what Jewish people use on Hanukkah to celebrate the miracle of the oil and the Temple.”

“A miracle?”

She decided on the Spark Notes version. “There were these guys, the Maccabees, that led a revolt against the Seleucids. This was, like, a really, really long time ago. When they retook the Temple in Jerusalem, they found there was only enough of the right kind of oil to keep the eternal flame, the ner tamid, burning for a day, which is bad because you’re not supposed to let that go out. Anyway, the miracle was that the oil lasted eight days and eight nights, long enough for them to get more. It’s really a minor holiday, honest. Something the rabbis decided on.”

“Which started tonight at sundown, actually,” Will put in.

“Yeah, but you know, it’s like every other holiday around this time of year. It’s because it gets so dark. That’s why you have Christmas trees and lights and Hanukkah candles. Even people who celebrate Kwanzaa have a special candelabra.”

“Seven total instead of nine,” Will said. “The middle candle, which is always black, is lit first and then used it to kindle the others. You add a candle for each night, and each new candle stands for a different principle or idea, like unity, creativity, faith.”

“Oh.” Mattie peered at Emma. “Well, if it’s the first night, are you going to light the candles?”

“You don’t light them all at once. I mean, you’re talking forty-six candles,” Will said. “The idea is you light a new one for every night to symbolize all the nights the oil lasted.”

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