Waiting for Summer's Return (19 page)

He struggled again with figuring out people’s thoughts. At first all were opposed to the woman being at his home.
“She is an outsider.” “She is not of our faith.” “She should go back to her own people.”
Their comments rang in his head. What had made the change? Had they recognized, as he had, the light of God’s presence shining on her face? Had the visits from the deacons—visits that usually came after the supper hour when he,
Grossmutter,
the woman, and the boy were all together in the house—finally proven that nothing unseemly occurred beneath his roof? Or were they opening themselves to her out of consideration for him, believing he would make her his wife?

How he wished to be wise enough to understand all things, to be able to say, “Ah, that is so,” and
know
things.

Summer Steadman was a good woman, that much he did know. She had proven herself a good mother in her kindness toward Thomas. She had proven herself a good wife in her assuming of household duties. But
his
wife? Did he
want
her to be his wife?

Images of Elsa played through his mind. So many there were to remember. Elsa the child, with impish grin and dimpled cheeks, flowers in the braids that fell sweetly across her shoulders. Elsa the teenager, peeking at him with fluttering lashes, letting him know she found him pleasing despite his big size and clumsy hands. Elsa the young wife, smiling from the stove or across the table—always smiling. Elsa the new mother, cradling a sleeping Thomas, an expression of tenderness on her face.

How he had loved his Elsa. Even now his heart beat with the memory of the love they had shared. Could he even consider taking another wife? Could he ever love another woman the way he had loved his Elsa?

“
Lieber
Lord, for sure it would solve problems if we were to wed. Summer Steadman would have a home. Thomas would have a mother. The people in town who point fingers and accuse would have no more grounds to suspect wrongdoing. But I do not know what is your will.” He brought down his hands, thumping the covers in disgust. “And I am too tired to think on it tonight. I give it to you, Lord. You work things out according to what is best for the boy, for the woman, and for me. I sleep.”

Still, it was many hours before Peter was able to sleep. In his mind, images of his dear Elsa kept playing, along with those of Summer Steadman.

22

O
N A MORNING IN
mid-December, Summer stood at the window and peered out between delicate whorls of hoarfrost. Fresh snowfalls had coated the ground with meringue. The frosty scene made her shiver, and she cupped her hands around the steaming cup of coffee. She whispered a prayer, thanking God for the sturdy roof over her head and the warmth of the Ollenburgers’ stove.

Mr. Ollenburger must have been cold in the barn. Yet what else could they do? The
shariah
had been turned into kindling, and he couldn’t live in the house while she was in it. Although he’d never shared what had taken place in the church the Sunday
Herr
Schmidt had summoned him, she suspected the evening visits from various townsmen were a result of that meeting. Often she prayed that whatever the men were seeking when they tapped on the door and spent a few minutes surveying the room and carrying on stilted conversations with Mr. Ollenburger, the finding would please them.

Releasing a sigh that steamed the windowpane, she turned and seated herself at the table. She traced her finger along the pattern in the table’s wood grain and imagined the house she hoped to build. Would the Gaeddert brothers allow her to buy the land? Her house needed to be started as soon as possible.

Thomas was doing well. If the weather were less frigid, he could make the trek to school each day. School would close down for a lengthy Christmas break soon, but once the break was over in late January, Mr. Ollenburger would surely allow Thomas to go back. What would she do then? Mr. Ollenburger had promised she could stay at his place as long as she needed to, yet she felt bad about displacing him to the barn. The man should be able to reside in his own home.

As if thoughts of him could make him appear, the door swung open and he entered, allowing in a gust of cold air teased with snowflakes. She leaped from the table and rushed to close the door as he stomped snow from his boots.

“Brr!” He shook his head, sending more snowflakes into the room. “It is cold this morning! And the sky looks very gray and threatening in the east. More snow is coming, I predict.”

“Well, we don’t need any more than we’ve got now on this floor.” She grabbed a rag and stooped to clean up the mess. “I just scrubbed the floor yesterday. Couldn’t you stomp off outside?”

“Cranky you are this morning,
Frau
Steadman.”

At his calmly given statement, warmth flooded her cheeks. Had she really scolded him for mucking up his own floor? If she was being territorial, it was definitely time to move into her own place. She shot to her feet and turned her back on him.

“I-I apologize for snapping at you. It was foolish of me.”

He chuckled—a deep, soothing sound. “
Ach,
nothing foolish about wishing to keep floors clean. Scrubbing is not pleasant. Grateful I am that you do it. I will stomp off outside next time.”

She peeked at him. He grinned, his eyes sparkling, his nose brighter red than his cheeks. His beard bore tiny droplets of melting ice. He looked very appealing. She managed to squeak, “Thank you.”

“The wind bites this morning.” He hung his coat, and she scurried to the stove to pour him a cup of coffee. “To town I must go to—” He looked toward Thomas’s door and lowered his voice. “Where is the boy?”

Summer handed him the cup. “He’s still asleep. He stayed up late last night reading, so I let him sleep in this morning.”

“And
Grossmutter
?”

“I haven’t heard a sound from her, either. The cold seems to bother her in the morning. Perhaps she’s decided to stay beneath the warmth of her covers a bit longer.”

“That is fine.” He took a noisy slurp of coffee. “I must go to town to pick up packages from Nickels’. Will you see to the boy while I am gone?”

“Of course I will.” It was no chore to see to Thomas.

“I pick up the things I order for Christmas.” A grin spread across his face, crinkling his eyes. “Not much longer till Christmas is here.”

“I was hoping you were going to town today,” she said. “Will you see if my order has come in at Nickels’?” He nodded, and she reached into Elsa Ollenburger’s apron pocket to withdraw an envelope and two pennies. “And would you mail this for me?”

He took it, looking at the address with his brow furrowed.

“It’s to my parents-in-law,” she explained. “I want them to know I’m still in Gaeddert should they choose to contact me.”

“You write, but they do not write back.” Mr. Ollenburger’s face reflected his concern.

She shrugged, feeling a pang of loneliness. “I didn’t expect them to. Things were strained between Rodney and his parents even before we left. His father made it clear that Rodney was no longer considered a part of his family when we announced our decision to leave. They never cared for me, although I know they loved the children. So I feel obligated to keep in touch with them.”

“What about your brother? Why do you not write to him, too?” Mr. Ollenburger slid her letter into one of the big front pockets of his coat.

On the stove, the lid of a pot began to jiggle. Summer returned to the stove and scooped cornmeal into the boiling water. “My brother and his wife took me in after my parents died, but with great reluctance. William was fourteen when I was born, and he married young. We really didn’t know each other. He and his wife had two children by the time my parents died. At first his wife thought I would be helpful with the children, but apparently I didn’t meet her expectations, because I was with them less than a year before they sent me to boarding school. I stayed there until I was sixteen.”

Mr. Ollenburger leaned against the wall and held his hands out to the stove. “What is this—boarding school?”

“A school where you live. You don’t just go to class and come home, you stay there.”

“And this is a good thing?”

Summer released a brief huff of humorless laughter. “It was better than living with my brother’s wife. But I think it’s a sad thing for children to be away from their families.”
Just as it’s a sad thing for parents to be away from their children,
her thoughts continued. Were Rodney’s parents finding comfort while missing their son? She wished she knew. Perhaps the contents of her letter—the lesson she had learned by putting her faith in God and giving Him her heartache—would help them.

She swallowed and went on. “I did receive a very good education, and I’m thankful for that. Education is an important thing.”

“As important as family?”

“Nothing is more important than family.” Summer was surprised by the vehemence in her voice.

“Ja.”
Mr. Ollenburger stroked his beard as he peered at her with a thoughtful expression. “How alone you must have felt, away from your parents and brother at that school.”

Summer stirred the pot. She felt tears pricking at his kind understanding, but she held them at bay. “Less alone than I felt after Rodney and the children died.”

He touched her arm. “
Frau
Steadman, how old are you?”

“I am twenty-nine.” She looked up at him, puzzled by the question. “Why?”

He removed his hand and slid it into his trouser pocket. “You were a young bride, then.”

She tipped her head. “Yes, I suppose I was. No one seemed to think I was too young, however. My sister-in-law was very eager to see me wed. She could be rid of me then, you see.” She offered a weak smile.

“You are still a young woman. Do you—” his ears turned bright red—“do you ever wish to have another family?”

Immediately she turned her attention to the pot of bubbling cornmeal mush. “I don’t know.” Why was he asking this?

He moved to the table and sat down, drawing his hand down his beard. “If the Gaeddert boys do not choose to sell you the land, what will you do?”

The question had plagued her for days, but she hadn’t come up with an answer. She answered the same as she had his previous question. “I don’t know.”

“
Ja,
well, not many options are available in Gaeddert, for sure. Let us hope for the best.”

Summer scooped servings of the mush into bowls and carried them to the table. Mr. Ollenburger offered a brief prayer of thanks, and they picked up spoons and ate in silence. Summer replayed the conversation they had shared. It was more personal than any other. How far their friendship had developed.

Halfway through breakfast, Mr. Ollenburger said, “I will go see the Gaedderts when in town I am today. Spring will be here before long, and plans you need to be making.”

A rock settled in her stomach at his words. His questions about her age and her future plans suddenly painted an unpleasant picture. They seemed to indicate an eagerness to see her off on her own. She supposed she shouldn’t be surprised. The townspeople had certainly put pressure on him to send her from his property. To be truthful, she hadn’t met many people who desired to keep her close. Yet it hurt more, coming from this man who’d always been so kind. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing a silent prayer for God to remind her she was wanted by Him.

Peter lowered the flaps on his new cap to cover his ears, then hunched his shoulders to bring the jacket up around his neck. The wind still managed to sneak beneath the fabric and send chills down his body. Inside his gloves, his fingers felt stiff, and he could hardly wait to reach Gaeddert and Nickels’ Dry Goods, where he could stand beside the fire and thaw out.

All the woman had shared with him this morning burdened his heart. His childhood had not always been easy—people taunted his big size and clumsiness, and often unkindness touched his family because their beliefs were different. Nevertheless, he had been loved and wanted. First by his parents, then by his Elsa, and now by his dear son and community. And of course he had known always of God’s love for him, which touched him deep below the skin.

This woman, though …

“Why, dear Lord, did you take her husband and children when so little she had to love her?” he wondered aloud. His breath created a steamy cloud of moisture that clung to his beard and froze, making his face feel stiff. “Was it the only way you had to reach her? I do not understand your ways, Lord, but I trust you have plan in mind for her. She is special woman.”

His heart tripped at his own words. So often he found himself admiring her. He clenched his fist around the whip. “But do I love her?” His breath came faster, stinging his nose as he sucked in frigid air. “I do not even know my own heart, God. You must help me.”

In town, he stopped the team in front of Nickels’ and pushed himself from the seat. Stiff from the cold, he moved slower than usual as he entered the store. The warmth enveloped him, and he drew a grateful breath to be out of the weather. Nick was helping another customer, so Peter went to the stove to warm his hands and wait his turn. The heat sent needles of pain through his fingers, and he rubbed his palms together, clenching his teeth against the discomfort. By the time Nick joined him, his hands had adjusted and no longer prickled.

“
Guten morgen,
Peter,” Nick greeted. “You have come for your Christmas packages?”

“
Ja
. The bicycle, it has come?”

Nick crooked a finger. “Come see.” He guided Peter to the storeroom.

Peter admired the shiny metal of the bicycle. Jet black and sleek, with nickel-plated handlebars and a soft leather seat, it was sized for a boy. Peter could not stop the smile from building as he imagined Thomas’s joy on Christmas morning. He patted the seat, nodding. “
Ja,
this is fine one.”

“I ordered some rubber tires in the size to fit the bicycle, in case the pneumatic tires do not hold up to our rough roads,” Nick said. “They are here if you need them.”

“That is kind of you.
Danke
.” Peter rolled the bicycle to the counter and put down the little kickstand to hold it in place. “The other things, they are all here?”

Nick nodded. He hefted a package from behind the counter, thumping it onto the countertop. He disappeared again, then emerged with a second bundle. “This is
Frau
Steadman’s order. You will take it, as well?”

“
Ja,
I will do that.” He patted the brown-paper-wrapped bundle. What was inside? Things for the boy, probably. “I thank you for your help in making it a happy Christmas for my boy.” Peter paused, biting the inside of his lip. He wished it to be a happy Christmas for the woman, too. If the Gaedderts said yes on the land, knowing she would have a place of her own would be gift enough. But if they said no …

“I want to see picture frames,” Peter said.

Nick strode to a shelf at the front of the store. “Standing or hanging?”

“I think … hanging,” Peter decided, looking at the selection. “But size I do not know.” It had been too long since he’d held that scrap of paper that had blown down by the river, but he knew the woman kept it between the pages of the Bible he had given her. He wished he had sneaked a look at it before coming to town.

He examined the variety of frames and finally eliminated some as too small and others as too large. Finally he picked up one made of stained oak with roses carved into the corners. It reminded him of the design on her chair. And it was oak—a good, solid choice.

He held it up to Nick. “If this is not right size, can I bring it back and choose another?”

“Of course.” Nick took it from him. “Do you want me to wrap it?”

“
Ja
. Do you have pretty paper? Something red or with flowers?”

Nick rummaged beneath the counter and emerged with a piece of pale green paper bearing red roses. “How is this?”

Peter beamed. “That is perfect.” He watched as Nick flattened the paper on the countertop and laid the frame on it. “I have errand to run.” He would visit Heinrich Gaeddert and see if a decision had been made. “I will pick these things up before I leave town. That will be all right?”

“Of course. I’ll have it all by the door, ready to go. I would not dally, though, Peter.
Frau
Nickels’ knee tells her a storm is brewing, and she has never been wrong.”

“I will not dally.
Danke
.” Buttoning his coat and putting on his hat and gloves, he prayed silently that this next errand would be as successful as the first one. He wanted the woman’s future to be better than her past. As he reached for the door, it suddenly swung inward, knocking Peter’s hand aside.