Waiting for Summer's Return (18 page)

The woman’s eyes followed the boy, fondness in their depths. When she looked up to find Peter watching her, her cheeks took on a pink hue that he believed was not related to the cold.

Peter gestured toward the wagon. “Come. If company we are to have, we must hurry home and prepare.”

He had just settled
Grossmutter
and the woman when Thomas returned. The boy’s breath came out in little puffs with his effort to keep from running.

“They’re coming, Pa!” Thomas reached for his father, and Peter hefted him into the back of the wagon. The boy leaned forward to touch the woman’s shoulder. “Summer, Mrs. Kraft said she’d like to get to know you.”

Peter watched the woman’s fine eyebrows shoot upward. “She did?”

Thomas nodded. “So you won’t have to hide in the bedroom.”

Peter sucked in his breath. The boy’s outspokenness could be hard to bear.

But Summer merely released a light laugh. “You don’t want me working on too many lessons for next week, I’m thinking.” Her voice held a teasing lilt.

Peter couldn’t help but grin as he pulled himself into the wagon. Yes, the woman had changed. He picked up the whip. “Giddap! A
faspa
we must prepare.”

21

P
ETER HAD ALMOST FORGOTTEN
how pleasant
faspa
could be. The last ones he and the boy had attended had been tense affairs, with people giving warnings about the woman. This time, though, only happy conversation took place around the table. After the simple lunch of cold sausage,
zweibach,
and sand plum
moos
had been consumed, the two boys went to the barn to play in the hay.
Grossmutter
murmured her farewells and toddled to her bedroom to rest. Peter, Summer, and the Krafts remained at the table to chat.

Out of the corner of his eye, Peter watched
Frau
Steadman with
Frau
Kraft as he talked shipping prices with
Herr
Kraft. He had always thought Katherine Kraft a kind woman, and his heart swelled in gratefulness as he saw the stirrings of friendship develop between the two very different women.

Where
Frau
Steadman was dark in hair and eyes,
Frau
Kraft was nearly white haired with pale green eyes.
Frau
Steadman, although heavier than when she had arrived, still seemed very thin when compared to
Frau
Kraft’s sturdy frame. But it became clear they had found common ground as the two visited and laughed as if known to one another for many years. It was good to see this happen. If
Frau
Steadman were to stay, she would need friends to help her feel at ease.

Although Peter would not have minded visiting longer, after an hour of talk
Herr
Kraft rose. “Come, wife. Long enough we have stayed here. We must get you home now for some rest.”

Frau
Steadman looked up sharply, concern in her eyes. “Rest? Are you ill?”

Frau
Kraft shook her head, a smile lighting her features. “
Nein,
Summer—not ill. Another child I expect in the spring. Many I have lost. We are being very careful.”

Peter was surprised that Katherine Kraft would share something so personal with someone she had just met. How would
Frau
Steadman respond to this news? Having lost her own children, would this send her to despair? He watched
Frau
Steadman’s reaction, his chest constricting.

“Oh, Katherine, a baby is happy news. I will be praying for you.” Peter nearly reeled. Although no happy light shone in her eyes, her words were soft, empathetic. He knew she meant them. This woman surely had changed!

Frau
Kraft rose, reaching to take
Frau
Steadman’s hands. “I have enjoyed my time with you, Summer.” Her gaze swept to include Peter. “You come for Thanksgiving dinner on Thursday.”

The invitation was issued as if for a family. Peter felt heat on the back of his neck.
Frau
Steadman looked to him, and he stammered an answer. “Y-you are very kind,
Frau
Kraft. I had forgotten Thanksgiving was so near.” He swallowed. Should he accept the invitation or would it be best to refuse? What was proper? He saw longing in
Frau
Steadman’s eyes, and his answer came without thought. “We will come. I bring you some dried apple pies,
ja
?”

Frau
Kraft gave a happy nod and released
Frau
Steadman’s hands. “Good. Summer, I will see you very soon, hmm? Take care.”

Peter followed the Krafts to the door, where
Herr
Kraft bellowed for Toby. The boy came running. Thomas followed more slowly. By their smiles, it seemed the boys had enjoyed their time together.

Thomas pressed himself beneath Peter’s arm, lifting his hand to wave at his friend as the Krafts’ wagon neared the road. Peter smiled down at the boy, and then he froze. Very near his elbow stood the woman, watching the wagon, her expression serene. His heart took up a mighty thumping. He suddenly felt very much as if they were a family—child, father … and mother.

As if sensing his scrutiny, the woman looked up. A soft smile tipped up the corners of her lips. “They are nice people.”

He nodded silently. His breathing felt irregular. He was not sure he would find words if he tried to speak. Finally he managed to croak, “
Ja
. Fine people, for sure.”

“I’d be glad to make those pies for you. I’ve never baked with dried apples, but I can’t imagine it would be much different than fresh apple pie.”

So easily she accepted the invitation to attend the Thanksgiving meal. So comfortable she seemed about going visiting with him and his family.

“
Ja
. Not much different it is. My crusts, sometimes they do not hold together so good.”

Thomas laughed, peering up at his father. “Your pie crusts are better than your bread.”

The woman laughed, too. Her eyes crinkled into a smile as she looked at Thomas—the way a mother might look with fondness at her own child.

Peter swallowed hard. “If you want to make pies,
Frau
Steadman, you are welcome to make pies.” He gave Thomas a little push toward the house. “Go in now, boy, and rest. Look at a book if you like, but rest your ribs.”

Thomas sighed but obeyed.

The woman stepped back into the house and Peter followed, closing the door behind them. Suddenly he felt uneasy in the house with her. Being invited to attend a holiday meal together, standing together on the porch waving good-bye to guests … All had felt too much like they belonged together.

What should he say to her now? He was not sure what she expected from him. He wanted to go to the barn and sort out these odd feelings, but before he could voice that thought, the woman spoke.

“Mr. Ollenburger, will you please sit down? I’d like to speak with you.”

Stars glimmered in a sky of deep gray. The moon hung heavy and full, the shadows of craters clearly discernible. The air was so cold and crisp that Summer’s eyes felt as if they froze between blinks, but she kept them open as long as possible to absorb the beautiful November night. She sighed skyward. “What a perfect end to the day.”

Mr. Ollenburger’s head turned in her direction. Though the shadows hid his expression, she suspected a smile lingered on his face. “
Ja,
it has been good day. Good food, good company, good time.”

From the back of the wagon, Thomas inserted, “My belly hurts. I ate too much pie.”

Summer and Mr. Ollenburger shared a soft laugh. Summer was amazed at how easily she had fit in at the Kraft house today. Two other families had also attended, both headed by widows, so the house had been quite full. When Summer had walked in and seen the number of people, she had wanted to get in the wagon and go back to the Ollenburger place. All those children running around had nearly turned her heart inside out with desire for Vincent, Rose, Tod, and Tillie.

But Mr. Ollenburger’s warm hand on her back had assured her all would be fine, and it had been. She’d had a wonderful time visiting again with Katherine Kraft. How she prayed this new baby would arrive healthy and strong! She also enjoyed getting to know Bertha Klein and Martha Jost. While at first Mrs. Klein and Mrs. Jost had been reticent, by the middle of the day they had relaxed, treating her with friendliness. She still felt the warmth of their kindness even in the cold night air.

“Did you have an opportunity to visit with Mr. Kraft?” Summer asked.

Mr. Ollenburger cleared his throat. “
Ja,
I visit plenty with
Herr
Kraft since we were only two men there.”

Summer scowled in his direction, even though she knew he couldn’t read her expression. “Stop teasing me, Mr. Ollenburger. I meant about what we had discussed earlier.” She glanced over her shoulder at Thomas, then lowered her voice. “About the land?”

His head nodded twice.

“And what did he say?”

“He say …” His voice sound tight, and Summer’s heart picked up its tempo. “The Gaeddert boys will probably ask council’s advice before agreeing to sell land to someone not of our sect. But he did not say right off he thought they would refuse you.”

It wasn’t the answer she hoped for. She had been on tenterhooks since Sunday, when she had asked Mr. Ollenburger to inquire about the land she wished to purchase. She had hoped having him ask would eliminate an immediate negative response. “Did he have any idea when the council might meet?”

Mr. Ollenburger’s broad shoulders raised in a shrug. “He did not say. First the Gaedderts must be talked to.
Herr
Kraft says he will do this for you.”

Summer’s eyebrows shot upward. “He will?”

“
Ja
. Tobias Kraft is fair man. He does not wish for you to be mistreated.”

Summer wondered if Mr. Ollenburger’s prayers for the town to accept her were already at work. The day truly had been a pleasant one. If these few people had decided not to fear her, surely others would soon follow suit. She became even more determined to purchase that piece of land and remain in Gaeddert. And if that were possible, it would become a day of thanksgiving for her in the truest sense.

A light snore sounded from the wagon bed, and Summer glanced back. Thomas lay stretched out in the hay beside
Grossmutter
’s hip, his arm curled beneath his head. She smiled, remembering how Tod had often slept that way, using his elbow as a pillow. It surprised and pleased her that pain did not stab with the memory. There was only a coil of remembrance coupled with a sense of regret that those days were over. She was healing, she realized, thanks to God’s intervention.

The wagon rumbled into the yard, and Thomas sat up, yawning. Mr. Ollenburger lifted out Thomas and the grandmother before helping Summer down. “Since late it is, I will put away the oxen and stay in the barn. Thomas, you can tuck yourself in tonight?”

“Sure, Pa. If I need something,
Grossmutter
and Summer will be here.”

Summer put her arm around the boy’s shoulders. “I’ve learned to say
schlop die gesunt
. I’ll see that he’s properly tucked in.”

Mr. Ollenburger gave a nod, then urged the oxen into moving. Summer opened the door and followed Thomas and his great-grandmother inside. The boy yawned as he took off his coat and hung it up.

“I’m sure you’re ready for sleep,” Summer said.

“Yes, but I had fun today. Did you?” Thomas’s hair stood on end with bits of straw stuck in the thick strands.

Summer plucked the straw out as she answered. “I had a very enjoyable day.”

“Felt good,” the boy said, his gaze never wavering from Summer’s face, “to have you there with Pa and
Grossmutter
and me. I … I like you a lot, Summer.”

For the first time Summer opened her arms and embraced the boy. His arms wrapped around her waist as if he’d never let go. She felt tears prick her eyes as she breathed in the dusty little-boy smell. How good it felt to hold the child.

“I like you, too, Thomas.” She swallowed against tears that threatened to burst forth. With effort, she removed herself from his hug. Smiling down at him, she added, “It was a special Thanksgiving for me. Thank you for including me.”

“Our first Thanksgiving together …” Thomas tipped his head, peering at her with bright eyes. “Do you figure we’ll always remember it?”

Summer considered the question. It was her first Thanksgiving without her children, her first Thanksgiving away from Boston, her first Thanksgiving as one of God’s children. Her first Thanksgiving with Peter and Thomas Ollenburger. “Yes.” Her lips trembled as she formed a smile. “I will always remember it.”

“Good.” Thomas gave her another impulsive hug, then he headed toward his bedroom. He paused at the door to call back, “
Schlop die gesunt,
Summer.”

“
Schlop die gesunt,
Thomas.”

He said good-night to his grandmother and then closed the door.

Summer turned to find
Grossmutter
behind her. She had forgotten the other woman was in the room, she’d been so caught up with Thomas. The old woman’s gaze seemed to penetrate to Summer’s very soul. Summer held her breath. Would the grandmother be angry with her for hugging the boy?

The grandmother stepped closer, cupped Summer’s cheek with her hand, and spoke soft German words. The gentle wrinkled fingers patted Summer’s face before she removed her hand, clasped it to her shawl, and hobbled into her bedroom.

Summer stared at the woman’s retreating back, replaying the words in her mind. The grandmother was pleased, she realized. The thought brought a rush of gratefulness.

Summer stood in the kitchen for long minutes while images of the day swept over her. Although she would carry many pleasant memories of this day, none could compare with the remembrance of the hug from Thomas at day’s end, followed by the old woman’s open acceptance.

She pressed a hand to her chest. Although she had repeated Thomas’s words—had said, “I like you, Thomas”—she knew her feelings were deeper. She loved the boy. Somehow, in these past weeks, her heart had opened to loving Thomas Ollenburger.

Her breath caught. When she purchased her land and moved into her own little house, she would no longer have this daily contact with Thomas. She knew she didn’t want to leave the boy. But she couldn’t have the boy without the father.

Slowly she removed her coat and hung it up. She stoked the stove, listened briefly at Thomas’s door, smiling when she heard his snore, then entered the room she shared with the grandmother. She slipped into her nightclothes, then climbed between the sheets, her thoughts drifting once more to the father.

She had found her comfort in being in the father’s home. Was she meant to belong in the father’s heart, as well?

Peter lay on the blanket-covered mound of straw, his hands beneath his head, staring at the dark ceiling. A few dancing shadows entertained his tired eyes as his thoughts drifted back over the day.

He could still see Tobias Kraft’s eyebrows rise in surprise when Peter asked whether he thought the Gaedderts would sell
Frau
Steadman some land on which to build a house. Tobias’s response had caused Peter’s eyebrows to shoot downward:
“Her own house she is building? But we thought you intended to have her be with you.”

With him. Married to him, he knew Tobias meant. His face burned with the memory. He had watched the woman all day, staying close in case she needed a friend. She had fit in well with the women—they had seemed to accept her. Was their willingness to do so because they thought she would soon be Mrs. Peter Ollenburger?