Where the Heart Leads (3 page)

“Thank you, Pa.”

They reached the end of the boardwalk, where two wagons waited, both with horses lazing within the confines of their leather rigging. Pairs of plodding, dependable oxen had pulled his father’s wagon for as long as Thomas could remember. He looked around in confusion. “Where are Arndt and Bruno?”

Summer and Pa exchanged a look that made Thomas’s stomach pinch.

“Son,” Pa said, his head low, “some changes we have made since last time you were home.”

Why would Pa get rid of the oxen? He needed the beasts to turn the gristmill’s large paddles to face the wind; horses weren’t strong enough. The twinge in Thomas’s middle increased. “Changes?”

He looked from one parent to the other while Gussie and Abby blinked up at him.

“
Ja
.” Pa took a deep breath, as if preparing to share something of importance, but Summer touched his sleeve.

“Let’s wait until we’re at the house to visit with Thomas, shall we? It’s warm here in the sun, and Little Lena is ready for her afternoon nap.”

Pa let out his breath in a way that indicated great relief. His gaze flicked between Thomas and Summer, and he nodded his head, gently patting Lena’s back as she drowsed on his shoulder. “That is sound thinking. Come.”

But instead of leading Thomas to a wagon, Pa headed straight through town. Pa’s brown boots thudded against the raised walkway, matching the thumping of Thomas’s heart. They made two turns to reach a residential area. There, he followed Pa into a small two-story house. When he saw the familiar furnishings from the homestead—
Grossmutter’
s and Summer’s chairs, Pa’s homemade bench draped with the worn patchwork quilt, and the handmade table and chairs where he had eaten many meals with his father, great-grandmother, and Summer—he couldn’t remain silent. “You
live
in Hillsboro? Why didn’t you tell me you left the homestead?”

Pa shook his head, frowning when Lena stirred on his shoulder. Instead of addressing Thomas, he turned to Gussie and Abby. “Girls, up to your room and play for a little bit. Stay quiet, though, while your sister sleeps. When she wakes, your mother will fix a snack for you.”

Abby caught Gussie’s hand, and the pair scampered up an enclosed staircase that divided the little house in two. Pa started after them, but he paused at the base of the stairs, peering back at Thomas with sad eyes. “Summer will show you where you sleep. I will put Lena in her bed, and then we will talk.”

Thomas clamped his jaw against all the questions that burned on his tongue. He picked up the bag Pa had left lying inside the front door, and trailed Summer through the kitchen to a lean-to at the back of the house. The ceiling sloped downward at a sharp pitch, forcing Thomas to duck to keep from hitting his head on the rafters. His old rope bed filled almost half of the room, the head and foot fitting snugly between opposite walls. Next to the head of the bed stood his chest of drawers, with a shelf above it holding many of his boyhood belongings.

For a moment, a picture of the spacious room he had occupied in Nadine’s home flashed through his mind, and he grimaced. But then he noticed the neatly made bed, the colorful quilt stretched smoothly over the mattress, and the arrangement of his favorite books and childish toys on the shelf. Someone had tried to make this little room welcoming. He kept silent the disparaging thoughts. Dropping his bag, he sat heavily on the quilt. The groan of the ropes echoed the groan of his heart.

Summer linked her fingers together and stood quietly in the doorway of the lean-to. The same sadness he’d seen in Pa’s eyes lingered in Summer’s dark-eyed gaze.

Thomas clamped his hands over his knees. “Summer, why are you living in Hillsboro? What happened to the homestead? Who’s manning the mill?”

Summer’s lips trembled for a moment. “The gristmill is closed.”

“Closed!” Thomas jolted to his feet, remembering too late the low height of the ceiling. His head collided with an overhead rafter, and he plunked back down. Summer rushed to him and ran searching fingers over his scalp. He gently pushed her hands aside.

“I’m fine.” Truthfully, his head throbbed, but that pain was minimal compared to the ache in his chest. “Why didn’t Pa tell me?”

Summer sank down beside him. “He didn’t want to worry you.

He feared that if you knew, you would rush home before you’d finished your education.”

Yes, that would be like Pa—thinking of Thomas instead of himself. But Thomas could have helped . . . somehow. “But it was operating when I was here last summer.”

Summer looked to the side. “He did what he could the last two harvests, for those who brought him their wheat.”

Thomas thought back, recalling how the grinding seemed to take much less time last summer than in prior years. Pa had joked that they were getting efficient, finishing early, but now he realized fewer people must have come to Pa. He drew a hand down his face. “So he sold the homestead and mill?”

Summer’s expression turned sad. “No. So many people from Gaeddert have moved to nearby towns, no one was interested in purchasing the homestead. It sits empty.” She paused, her throat convulsing. “It makes your father very sad.”

Tears stung behind Thomas’s nose as he considered how difficult it must have been for Pa to leave the house and buildings he’d constructed with his own hands. So many dreams were poured into that land, dreams carried from across the ocean and planted with high hopes. Now those dreams had been swept away like dust in a Kansas windstorm.

Summer put a hand on Thomas’s knee. “Your father has a job at the steam-powered mill here in town.”

Pa, who expressed pride in the three-generations-long line of self-supporting Ollenburger millers, now spent his days toiling for someone else instead of earning his way with his own mill? Thomas’s chin quivered. “It’s not right, Summer.”

“Right or wrong,” Summer said, “many of Gaeddert’s residents are starting over in other communities. The town was so small, Thomas. With no more wagon trains coming through, and the difficulty in raising crops over the past few years, Gaeddert couldn’t support itself any longer. Had the people allowed the railroad to come through the town, it might have survived, but . . . there was no opportunity for growth.”

A shadow fell across the room, and Thomas looked up to find Pa filling the doorway. His eyes—lined at the edges, topped by thick yellow brows now streaked with gray—met Thomas’s. It looked like his father had deliberately relaxed his face into an expression of complacency.

“Change is not always for bad.” Pa spoke as though he’d been a part of the entire conversation, and Thomas wondered how long he’d been listening. “And here in Hillsboro, we have many familiar faces to make us feel not so lonely for our town, Gaeddert.”

Summer patted Thomas’s knee, sitting up straight with a smile lighting her face. “Why, yes, and one in particular will be pleased to know you’re home. She asks about you often.”

Thomas waited in silence.

Pa nodded. “Belinda will know soon enough you are here. The Schmidt widow and her daughters reside right there across the alley.”

Thomas’s mouth went dry.
Belinda
. . .

3

S
ITTING
DOWN TO DINNER
reminded Thomas of how things used to be, before he left Gaeddert to attend high school and college in Boston. The smells were the same—cabbage, sausage, fried potatoes, onions, vinegar, and Summer’s good homemade bread. He sat at the same worn table in a chair crafted by his father, with a familiar speckled blue plate in front of him. Holding hands around the table while Pa’s rumbling voice offered grace in German brought the same feeling of belonging and contentment that had carried him through childhood. Pa’s strong Mennonite faith had been a constant all his life.

With his eyes closed, Pa’s voice in his ears and Summer’s hand in his, Thomas momentarily forgot that he sat in a kitchen in a strange house in Hillsboro instead of his boyhood home outside of Gaeddert. But the moment Pa said amen, Lena squealed, “I want ’tatoes!” and yanked him back to the present.

He opened his eyes to the strange kitchen, his little sisters crowded side by side on a bench across from him, and neighboring houses blocking the view from the window. Although he hadn’t eaten since early that morning, hunger fled. Only the knowledge of how much it would bother his parents to have him leave the table kept him in his seat.

“So, Thomas,” Pa said while scooping potatoes onto Lena’s plate, “did you bring home a diploma?”

Thomas stabbed a piece of sausage. “Yes, sir. It’s in my bag.”

“I will build a frame for it, and you can hang it on the wall of your room.”

Thomas stuck a bite of sausage in his mouth to keep from saying anything belittling about the room Pa had called his. He swallowed and forced a light tone. “I’ll show you the diploma after dinner.”

Pa beamed, nodding at Abby and Gussie. “You see? It is as I told you. Thomas went to school, he studied hard, and now he has a paper that says he is a graduate of higher learning. You can be proud of your big brother.”

The little girls hunched their shoulders and peeked at Thomas with wide blue eyes. He waggled his eyebrows at them and enjoyed the giggles his silliness encouraged.

Summer put a serving of cabbage on each of the girls’ plates before handing the bowl to Thomas. “Now that you have your degree, Thomas, what are your plans?”

Thomas stifled a groan. He knew the question would be raised, but he’d hoped they would give him a few days before asking about his future plans. He opened his mouth, ready with the pat answer he’d been giving to everyone else—
“I’m waiting to see what doors God opens”
—but Pa cut him off.

“He will do something big, for sure.” Pa’s eyes sparkled as brightly as his little daughters’.

“Can I go to college, too, Papa?” Abby asked.

“Me too!” Gussie added, nudging her sister with her elbow.

Pa pursed his lips and his whiskers twitched. “I hear talk of maybe a college being built right here in Hillsboro. So it might be you girls can go there when you are grown up,
ja
?” He used his fork to point at each of them in turn. “With a degree in hand, there are no limits. An educated person can do anything.”

Thomas could have contradicted Pa by saying his business administration degree qualified him for many different positions, but there were limits. Instead of arguing, however, he spread strawberry jam on a slice of bread. “It’s sure good to eat Summer’s cooking again. Nadine’s cook is a nice lady, but she thinks everything has to be drowned in some sort of sauce.” He made a great show of chewing and swallowing with relish. “This is
good
.”

Summer smiled her thanks, and the conversation shifted. Pa told Thomas how his old dog Patches now lived with the Jantz family outside of town, and Summer came close to gossiping by telling him about his old pals from Gaeddert. She mentioned Toby Kraft was planning a fall wedding, then teasingly added, “Hmm, speaking of weddings . . . is there a special girl in your life?”

Immediately Daphne Severt came to mind, but Thomas forced her from his thoughts. Daphne was young and flighty, and she wanted to stay in Boston. Then again, maybe God was calling Thomas to return to Boston. “No, but—”

“
Ach
,” Pa cut in again, “what for would the boy be thinking of a wife already? A business he must build first, and then a wife he can take,
ja
? A man must have means of caring for a family before he thinks of starting one.” Suddenly Pa’s smile faded, and silence fell. The life seemed to drain from the room as he lowered his fork to his plate.

Pa glanced around the table, his gaze crossing each face before settling on Summer. He wiped his mouth and gave his wife’s hand a squeeze. “A fine meal you prepared for us, Summer. I thank you. But now I think I go check for the mail.” He stood.

“I go get mail!” Lena pushed aside her plate, nearly dumping her cup of milk.

“No, no,” Summer chided, sliding the half-empty plate back in front of Lena. “You need to eat your dinner.”

Lena’s lower lip puckered out. “I go get mail, Papa.”

For a moment it appeared Pa would walk out without responding, but then he put his large hand on the child’s glossy brown curls. “You want to go to mailbox with Papa?”

“I go get mail.” Lena held her arms up to her father. Her dark eyes begged.

The edges of Pa’s eyes crinkled. He looked at Summer. “I suppose it will not hurt her to finish her dinner later.” He looked at Abby and Gussie, who sat like two prairie dogs on alert. “You would like, too, to walk for the mail?”

“Yes, Papa!” the pair chorused.

“Wipe the crumbs from your faces, then, and come along. The company I would enjoy.”

Both Abby and Gussie swiped their napkins over their mouths and hurried to Pa’s side while he lifted Lena from her seat. “We will walk to the mailbox.” He took Lena’s hand, stooping forward to accommodate the little girl’s much shorter height. Or, Thomas suddenly wondered, was it more the weight of worry sloping his father’s shoulders?

Summer watched the party leave, her lower lip tucked between her teeth. Her creased brow raised Thomas’s concern. He touched her hand. She jumped and swung to face him. Immediately a smile replaced the troubled look.

“Well . . . we could have dessert, if you’re ready for it. I baked an apple pie this morning, and I made sure to add extra cinnamon and a touch of nutmeg, the way you’ve always preferred. Or there are
gruznikje
in the cookie jar.” She half stood, reaching for his dishes. “Abby and Gussie like the ammonia cookies as much as you do, but for some reason Little Lena—”

“Summer.”

She stared at him, her lips parted.

“Please—sit down.” To his ears, his voice sounded like Pa’s. He felt much older than his twenty years.

Slowly, Summer sank back into her chair.

“Is Pa expecting an important letter or package?”

“What?” Furrows appeared on her brow. “No. Why do you ask that?”

“He got up in the middle of dinner to walk to the mailbox.”

Summer waved her hand. “Oh, I doubt there’s any mail now that you’re home, unless Nadine is missing you already. The only letters we get are the ones you or Nadine send. No, he’s just . . .” She sighed, her gaze drifting somewhere beyond his shoulder, as if secret thoughts carried her away. “A walk with the girls is good medicine for him.”