Waiting for Summer's Return (24 page)

27

P
ETER LINKED HIS
fingers together and rested his hands on the clean tabletop. Everything sparkled in the house since the woman moved in. A fine wife she would make. But
his
wife? He cleared his throat as she seated herself across from him. “Summer, we must talk about the boy.”

The woman’s gaze dropped to her lap, then bounced upward. Her eyes appeared wide and apprehensive. She was not making this easy for him, but he would proceed for Thomas’s sake.

“I think I cause this problem with the boy. I do not consider that bringing you here would show the boy what he has missed by not having a mother. Someone to cook for him, read to him, see to his needs.”

“But you and Lena have—”

He raised one hand, silencing her protest. “
Ja,
caring for the boy we have done. But it is somehow different when you do it. A mother’s care is very different than a father’s, or even a great-grandmother’s. Now the boy knows this, and he has decided he wants the care of a mother, too.” He shrugged, searching for the words to explain his thoughts. “You are first woman to spend long times with him since his mother dies, so only natural it is for him to grow close to you.”

“So you don’t think it’s
me
he wants, it’s just that I’m the only one available.”

Did he hear defensiveness in her tone? He leaned forward. “
Nein,
Summer, you—you are the one he loves. He loves you because he knows you.”

A slight frown appeared on her face, but she nodded. “I think I understand what you’re saying. Thomas now realizes what it means to have a mother. I am here, he knows me, he trusts me, so I am the logical choice.”

Logical. This word puzzled Peter, but the other things she’d said made sense. “
Ja,
for the boy, you are his choice for mother.”

She nibbled her lower lip, her brow deeply furrowed. He waited in silence for her to gather her thoughts. “Peter, may I be honest with you?”

“For sure. I want you to be honest with me.”

Pink stained her cheeks as she admitted, “I have considered what problems would be solved if I were to marry you. I would have a home, security, a standing in the community. You are a good man, and I admire you.” She drew in a deep breath. “How-how can one be sure the decisions we make are ones God wants us to make and not only our own selfish desires?”

Peter felt proud that this educated woman would ask him—just a common miller, not a scholar or preacher—such an important question. He gave it much consideration before forming an answer. “I think God speaks in many ways. Inside of us, when we let God’s Son in, lives the Holy Spirit, who helps guide and direct our thoughts. The Holy Spirit prompts us. When decision is right one, you will know deep in your heart.”

“So my heart will tell me whom I should marry, if anyone?”

“That is right. You follow your heart.”

“Then … it is all right that … for now …” The pink in her cheeks deepened to red.

Peter gave a slow nod. “Is okay. We are friends, and that is enough,
ja
?”

A smile broke across her face. “Yes. Thank you.” Unexpectedly, she reached across the table and placed her hand over his. How small hers appeared next to his thick, rough hands. “It’s good having you for a friend, Peter Ollenburger. I don’t know that I’ve ever had a better one.”

He released a chuckle, partly from pleasure, partly from embarrassment. “
Ja
. Well, never have I called a woman my friend—other than my Elsa, of course. But I think it is good, too.”

“Would you like another cup of coffee?” She removed her hand from his.

“
Ja
. Coffee would be good.”

Is peaceful ending for a pleasureful day,
Peter thought as he and the woman sipped coffee at the table together. The woman had been right—their marriage could solve problems. It would mean security for her, and it would make the boy happy, for sure. But God-ordained marriage was what they both wanted. It was good to agree on that. He would pray for Thomas’s acceptance.

Thomas pulled the covers over his head.

“Sie stoppen sich zu verstecken.”
Pa’s voice sounded stern.

Thomas obeyed his pa’s order, emerging from his hiding place by lowering the blankets until his eyes were uncovered. His pa’s hand moved toward his face. He didn’t flinch when Pa took hold of the blankets—Pa never hit him—but he cringed when his pa pulled the covers down far enough so his chin showed. He felt better when he was all covered up.

“I know how you feel about the woman.” Pa put his hand on Thomas’s chest. “But is important for you to know how I feel, too. We talked, Summer and me, and we agree on this. We care for each other as very good friends, but it would be wrong to marry without love.”

Thomas blinked as fast as he could. He didn’t want to cry in front of his father. “But, Pa, I know Summer likes you. She likes you a lot. And you like her, too.”

“
Ja,
of course we like each other. I said we are good friends. But like and love are two very different things, boy.”

Thomas felt his chin begin to quiver. He clamped his teeth together as hard as he could to make it stop.

“When you are grown up, you will understand better that some things cannot be forced. Love is one of them. Love must grow on its own, planted in gentleness and watered with God’s hand.” Pa patted Thomas’s chest. “You feel love growing here for the woman. There is nothing wrong with that. It is good to find love in your heart. Love makes the heart softer, makes you think more of others, makes you want to do good instead of evil. Be thankful love is there, son. Let it be enough that you love her.”

The tears Thomas had tried so hard to hold back spilled from his eyes. Embarrassed, he turned his face away from his father. He sucked in air, but one sob came out anyway. “I don’t want to talk anymore.”

He closed his eyes as tight as he could and felt his father’s hand slide away. The bed creaked as his pa stood up. Thomas kept his eyes shut and jammed his chin against his shoulder. Pa wouldn’t be hearing any more baby noises!

The door clicked shut, and Thomas opened one eye to peek. The room was empty. He threw back the covers and lunged forward, bringing up his knees to bury his face against them. Why couldn’t they love each other? It wasn’t hard to love. He loved Summer, and it was easy. She loved him, too. He knew she did. If she could love him, why couldn’t she love his pa? It didn’t make sense!

He cried against his knees, making no noise but getting his nightshirt soggy with tears. The crying made his head hurt. He needed to stop. He raised his head, sniffing hard until he felt under control. After rubbing his eyes, he looked around.

The room was shadowed, but he could see the shapes of the gifts Summer had given him, lined up on his bureau. He thrust out his chin. Well, if she wasn’t going to be his ma, he sure wasn’t going to leave those things up there like a row of trophies.

He kicked the covers down and climbed out of his bed. Barefoot, he marched across the drafty floor and scooped everything into his arms. The dictionary dug into his ribs, and he winced as he carried the load back to the bed, knelt, and shoved it all underneath.

“There,” he murmured through gritted teeth, “that’s better. Won’t have to look at that stuff.” He threw himself back into the bed and yanked the covers up. But after a while he realized having those presents under the bed didn’t make him feel better. In fact, it made him feel worse, knowing how roughly he had treated them.

What had Pa said? Loving people makes you want to do good instead of evil. He sighed. Well, then, he must love Summer something fierce, because it made him feel awful to have treated her presents like that. He swung out of the bed and got down on his hands and knees beside it, reaching under the bed to retrieve every item.

He put the gifts back on the bureau top, placing them all just so. He remembered how he’d felt when he’d opened the games, thinking about evenings when he and Summer would play and laugh like they had with that silly checkers game. It felt like he had a ma when she played with him. He wanted that. He wanted a ma
so bad
. Sadness pressed at him now instead of anger, and it was harder to hold in.

Thomas shivered. Whenever he felt sad, his pa had taught him, you should talk to God and let Him share it. The way he figured it, God had already taken one ma away from him. It wouldn’t be fair if He took this one, too. He would just have to let God know that.

Summer stood on the stoop and watched Daisy trot down the road toward school with Thomas bouncing on her broad back. She felt a pang at the boy’s departure. The past couple of weeks since Christmas had been strained between them. She had sensed his pulling away, as if separating himself emotionally from her before he had to be separated physically. She understood, and she tried to treat him no differently so he would see her feelings toward him hadn’t changed, yet she knew things were changing.

Thomas’s ribs were completely healed. There would be no more long days together, teaching him and learning from him. No longer did she have an excuse to reside beneath Peter’s roof. But Peter had insisted she stay until her house was built. Even though it was too cold to begin construction yet, she had made the first move toward building the house: she had gone to town the past Saturday to pay for her land.

Her land
. What a wonderful feeling that thought evoked! Her own place, a place no one could take away from her or talk her into leaving. Even if it meant being away from Thomas, she eagerly anticipated having her very own house.

“Summer, the boy is gone. Will you stand there looking until home he rides?”

Peter’s voice from the kitchen brought a stop to her musings. She turned, a sheepish smile tugging at her cheeks. “Of course not. I was just—”

“Thinking.” He sent her a broad grin. “Always you are thinking. What is it now that makes your forehead wrinkle like a sand plum left in the sun?”

Summer laughed as she closed the door, sealing out the cold. The things this man said! But she enjoyed their easy camaraderie. She would miss that as much as the boy when she moved into her own house. She began clearing dishes as she answered him. “I was thinking of my house and how soon it could be built. I have big plans for it. A porch, and a flower garden, and a picket fence …”

“Picket?” Peter’s forehead now crinkled like a plum left in the sun. “What is picket?”

“You know—a fence made of narrow boards set with space between them. A decorative fence rather than a practical one.”

He nodded, his expression clearing. “
Ja,
I think I know. There is one around
Frau
Schmidt’s flower garden. So high”—he gestured—“and painted white, standing like a row of snaggled teeth.”

Again, her laughter bubbled. “Well, I’d prefer my fence didn’t resemble snaggled teeth, but you have the height and color right.” She ladled water from the reservoir to wash dishes. “When do you suppose construction can begin?”

Peter carried his coffee mug to the dry sink and leaned against the wall, facing her. Many of their conversations took place over the washing of dishes, Summer realized. She heard a light chuckle, and she turned to see Lena in her bedroom doorway, smiling at the two of them. Heat filled her face as she realized what a homey picture they must paint, standing together this way. The heat seemed to extend to her chest, and she swallowed hard in an attempt to calm her suddenly jangled nerves.

“Late February at earliest, for sure, on the building,” he answered as Lena padded forward and poured herself a cup of coffee. The old woman stayed beside them as Peter continued. “But there is much to do before building can begin. Rock must be collected for the foundation. Lumber and glass panes must be ordered. We must to dig a well for you. A cellar must be dug in case of bad storms and also for storing of vegetables. Land must be cleared for the garden. And, of course, those little boards must be cut for your snaggle-tooth fence.” He grinned.

“Picket fence.” Her discomfort faded away. It was so easy to respond to his playfulness.

“Will you have animals? Chickens? Pigs? A horse? This must be planned for, too.” He downed the last drop of his coffee and dropped the mug into the dishpan.