Waiting for Summer's Return (17 page)

19

T
HOMAS’S FEVER AND
sore throat were much better by Monday morning, but Summer decided to allow him another day of rest. She wanted to take no chances with his full recovery. A fear still quivered in her chest regarding any type of illness. Mr. Ollenburger’s words about the “before” impacting the “now” helped her understand her own fears and those of the people in town. They weren’t bad people, only cautious. She would try to reflect on that if she had another less-than-pleasant encounter with one of them.

Grossmutter
observed the mixing of pancake batter. She nodded her approval and murmured words Summer didn’t understand. Even with the language barrier, it was nice to have the woman nearby. Summer chuckled to herself as she remembered her first impression of the grandmother and her worry at whether the old woman would resent her intrusion. The light of God that lit Mr. Ollenburger’s heart also existed within the soul of
Grossmutter
. Although it had taken a few weeks for the old woman to trust her, Summer felt she had a friend in Thomas’s great-grandmother.

Mr. Ollenburger came in for breakfast, his cheeks rosy with cold and blue eyes bright beneath his bushy brows. He smiled when he saw the stack of pancakes waiting. “
Frau
Steadman, I must tell you
danke schoen
for the cooking you do. I did not expect you to do this when I say come and teach my boy, but how nice it is to not be cooking all the time.”

Summer felt a rush of pleasure at his words. “You’re very welcome. I enjoy the cooking, so please don’t consider it an inconvenience.”

The man nodded, then turned away to hang up his coat. When he faced her again, his brow was furrowed. “Many days it has been since the graves you visited. When winter comes full force, visiting will be hard. Would you like to go today? It is cold, but the sun shines bright and the wind is not so strong.”

“Yes, please,” she said eagerly.

After breakfast, Mr. Ollenburger helped Summer into the wagon, and they headed toward the gravesites. The yellow sun did shine brightly, as the man had said, although it didn’t produce much warmth.

The graves came into view, a stark row of gray stones against a backdrop of leafless growth. Small mounds of snow remained at the base of each headstone, with brown stalks of grass sticking through in careless clumps. Summer immediately knelt beside Tillie’s grave and tugged at the tough grass. Mr. Ollenburger crouched nearby and helped. She sent him a grateful smile.

When the area was clear again, he got up. His tall form blocked the sun as he looked down at her. “I will go walk by the river for a while. You visit as long as you like.” He turned and strode away, leaving her alone with her memories.

Summer shifted her attention to the headstones. One by one, she stroked the rough top of each stone, from little Tillie’s up to Rodney’s. When she reached his, she sat down on the ground and released a heavy sigh.

“Sometimes I envy you, Rodney.” She stretched out her hand to touch the carved letters that formed his name on the cold sandstone. “Here you are, the children close by, while I’m far away from all of you. At first I wanted to die, too, so I could be with you. I had the same thought when I feared I might be buried in the shack.” She swallowed hard and dared to admit, “Now I’m glad I’m not dead, although I do wish we were still all together.”

She shifted her position, pulling her coat more snugly around her chin to better block the cool air. “Winter’s coming, Rodney, and I don’t know how many more times I’ll be able to visit, so there is much I want to say to you today. First, I want to apologize. You and I didn’t really have a loving marriage, did we? Oh, we got along well—we never fought or were unkind to each other. But since I’ve lived with Mr. Ollenburger and his family, I’ve become aware of what we lacked.”

Closing her eyes, she remembered Mr. Ollenburger’s face as he spoke of his Elsa. Tears stung her eyes. “It’s too late for us to share an abiding love—a love that comes from the very depth of one’s heart and fills the person with warmth and joy. If what Mr. Ollenburger says is true and you are in heaven, you must be feeling that kind of love there. Heaven must overflow with that kind of love.”

Summer glanced over her shoulder toward the river. Mr. Ollenburger was nowhere in sight. She turned back to Rodney’s headstone. “Mr. Ollenburger speaks of God as if they share a friendship. You often spoke of God, and I’m sure you believed in His presence, but somehow it was … different.”

She scowled as she tried to sort out her thoughts. “Even when we attended church, God always seemed distant to me—out of reach. When you and the children fell ill and I prayed to God to save you, it seemed He stayed away. Mr. Ollenburger assures me God was listening and cared, but He answered no. Mr. Ollenburger seems to find peace even when the answer he gets from God is no, but I …”

Biting on her lip, she paused. So many different emotions jumbled her mind. “Since I’ve been with the Ollenburgers, I’ve witnessed God close enough to touch. I want to know Him on a personal level—not in my head, like I did in Boston, but in my heart. I want to know without any doubt that He is here, that He cares, that He listens when I speak to Him.”

Leaning forward, her voice dropped to a raspy whisper. “I want to experience joy, Rodney.
Real
joy. I’m sorry I didn’t allow myself to find it with you. I’m sorry if by holding myself from you I kept you from finding it. Maybe we would have found it in Oklahoma, there on our own with no one but the Lord and each other to rely on. I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to find out. And I hope you’ll forgive me if … if I find joy now, on my own, without you.”

Her gaze drifted across the headstones carved with her children’s names. Guilt washed over her as she realized what she had just said. She covered her face, releasing a groan. Oh, how she wanted the joy she had seen shining in the eyes of her benefactor! But did she deserve to feel joy if her children and husband were no longer here?

The crunch of feet on dry grass startled her, and she looked back to see Mr. Ollenburger slowly approach. His hands were thrust deep into his pockets, his shoulders hunched as if afraid to intrude. He offered a half smile and lifted one shoulder in a shy shrug. “I do not mean to rush you. Just checking on you I am, to see if you are ready to go back to a fire’s warmth.”

Summer rose and brushed off her skirts. She wasn’t quite ready to go, but she could see the sense of returning to the house. Mr. Ollenburger had work to catch up on since he had spent Saturday at the Ratzlaffs’ place. She gave one last lingering look at the headstones before allowing herself to take in the expanse of landscape that surrounded them. “They look so lonely here.”

Mr. Ollenburger nodded. “
Ja
. With so much nothing all around, lonely they do seem.”

Summer’s heart rate increased with a sudden thought. “Mr. Ollenburger, do you know who owns the land in this area?”

He stepped closer. “Why you ask this?”

“I was thinking—you said it would be good for the people of Gaeddert to learn they need not fear all non-Mennonites. And I want to be near my … my family. If I were to purchase this little plot of ground, build a house here and live in it instead of your home, then your problems with the town would be solved.”

“You wish to stay in Gaeddert for good? Not return to Boston?” He seemed surprised.

She hugged herself. “I need a fresh start, and Gaeddert is as good a place as any.” She felt a small smile tug at her lips. “At least I have friends here—Thomas, your grandmother … and you.”

The big man nodded, his expression serious. “
Ja,
your friends we are.” He scratched his chin and his brow furrowed in thought. “This land, so close to the town, is owned by
Herr
Gaeddert’s sons Heinrich and Bernard.”

Summer looked again toward the graves. How easily she could envision a white-washed cottage. It would have green shutters, a wraparound porch, and a picket fence to surround the yard. She would build it to the right of the headstones, tucked between the two largest cottonwoods, where she could walk down the rise and visit the stones easily. If she planted some flowers in front of the porch, and perhaps a lilac bush under the windows, it would be a cheery place to live. Yes, she could be happy here.

“
Herr
Gaeddert. Is that the person who founded the town?”

“
Ja,
he bought all land from what you call land developer. Then he sold pieces to people to settle in town. Very wealthy businessman he was in Russia. Only two years in America and he dies, but his sons carry on in his name.”

Summer considered this information. Surely the sons would be interested in selling the land. Keeping it gained them nothing. Would they sell to an outsider? She licked her dry lips as fear tumbled through her chest. What would she do if they refused?

Mr. Ollenburger touched her shoulder, bringing her attention back around. “
Frau
Steadman, you must pray. You must find out if this is what God would choose for you. If Gaeddert is in your plan, then a way will be made for your purchase of land. But prayer must to come first.”

Fear slammed against her breast. She wanted so much to
belong
somewhere. Had she ever felt as if she belonged? Never—not with her parents, who had always seemed afraid to embrace her; not with her brother, whose wife viewed her as an intrusion; and not with Rodney, since his parents had never accepted her as part of their family.

All she loved was buried here on this little plot of land. She wanted to be near them. Her only prayers had concerned her family—
save them, save them,
she had begged—and God had taken them away. If she prayed now, might He take away this possibility, too? A war took place in her heart. The desire to draw close to Him—to trust Him the way Mr. Ollenburger did—battled with the fear of allowing Him to guide her if it could mean leaving this land and her family.

Peter watched the woman’s face as she stared into the distance. She seemed pained—even tormented. An ache filled his chest. How hard she sought joy. She tried to find it here, on this barren land, where headstones proved she once had children and a husband. If she would only turn these hurts over to the Lord, her soul could find peace.

He took hold of her elbow and turned her to face him. “
Frau
Steadman, come here with me, please.” She came without hesitation as he led her to the largest headstone, the one of her husband. He knelt on the flattened stalks of brown grass and gestured for her to join him.

Her face looked pinched as she knelt beside him in a graceful sweeping aside of skirts. She clasped her hands together beneath her chin, and he waited until her eyes slid closed.

“Dear Father …” Peter was so accustomed to praying in German, he found it difficult to form English words. Yet it was important the woman understand this prayer. He offered a silent plea in his native tongue for God to guide him, then went on haltingly. “This woman … has lost much. Her heart aches with missing those who are no longer here. She wishes … she wishes to remain close to them. She wishes to buy this piece of land and stay in Gaeddert.”

He paused, his eyes still tightly closed. “Your Book tells us that all days ordained for us were written before they came to be. You have a perfect plan for all lives who are born. You have perfect plan for Summer Steadman, too. I ask you to speak to her, to share your plan with her, so she might find peace and joy. You are a God who listens and a God who speaks. Listen to the longing of her heart, and answer what is your will for her.

“And, my dear Father, if your will is for her to stay, then I ask you to soften the hearts of those in town. Let them make her feel welcome. You are the God of miracles. I fear that is what it will take. But I trust you. I thank you for your loving care for us. In your Son’s name I pray. Amen.”

He opened his eyes to find the woman staring at him. Her dark eyes were bright with tears, her knuckles pressed to the underside of her chin. He rose, offering her his hand. “Come now. We go back and see how Thomas fares,
ja
? And today I build you a new bed.”

20

S
UMMER SPENT THE
afternoon baking bread while Thomas sat in the grandmother’s rocking chair with a book. Just as she removed the last crusty, aromatic loaf from the oven, the door banged open and Mr. Ollenburger entered, carrying the chair he had purchased for her. Summer put down the loaf, turning toward the smiling man in surprise. “My chair!”

“
Ja,
your chair. It took some doing, but the pieces are together again.” He pushed the door closed with his foot, then set the chair on the floor. His smile grew wider as Summer approached to circle the chair in wonder.

“But … but the roof must have broken it into pieces.”

The man chuckled. “
Ja,
it did, for sure. But broken things are sometimes fixed. This time it worked.”

Thomas approached and examined the back of the chair. “Did you make new back legs?”

Mr. Ollenburger shook his head. “
Nein,
boy. The back legs are the same. But broken in half they were from the weight of the roof. See here is what I did—this is good thing for you to know.”

He crouched behind the chair, and Thomas imitated him. Summer watched over their shoulders as Mr. Ollenburger pointed to a ragged seam where the seat and back met. “See here? How the leg goes from the floor to the top of the chair? The leg snapped in the middle. So I take each half and drill a hole into the center of the wood. Then I carve dowels and fit the pieces around the dowel. This strengthens the pieces and holds them together again. After that, I put all pieces together like a big puzzle and use more dowels underneath”—he tipped the chair forward so Thomas could peek—“to give strength there, too.”

He rose, his apologetic smile aimed at Summer. “It is not so pretty as it was. Some of the wood splintered, but I fill the spots with spackling and stain over it. From the front, you cannot tell. Even if it is not so pretty, it is strong. It will not collapse when you sit in it. You need not worry.”

“I’m not worried.” And to prove it, she sat in the chair and smiled up at both Thomas and Mr. Ollenburger.

The man laughed. “But this is not good place for you, right in front of the door. When your bed I bring in, I will knock into you.”

She rose, her mouth dropping open in surprise. “You fixed my bed, too?”

“
Ja
. It did not take as much work as the chair, I tell you. Only replace one leg and pound all the dust from the mattress. An easy job.” He lifted her chair and carried it to the corner, placing it next to the grandmother’s rocking chair. “I will bring it in now if you and my son will go out of my way.”

Summer and Thomas stepped well away from the door as Mr. Ollenburger struggled through with his burden. He leaned the bed’s frame against the wall next to the grandmother’s door rather than disturb her rest, then carried in the mattress and bedding. Last, he came with a rag-wrapped package, which he placed in Summer’s hands.

“I think this will please you.” The smile in his eyes made Summer’s heart lurch.

“What is it?”

“Open and see.”

She peeled back the layers of rag. “My teacup!”

He touched the delicate rim of the cup with one rough finger. “Surprised I was to find it all in one piece. The saucer was broken in two, but not even a chip does the cup have.” He pushed his hands into his pockets. “I save the pieces from the plate, and I will glue them for you.”

Tears filled her eyes. There were so many things this man had put back together for her. She looked up at him and found him watching her with a secretive smile on his lips, visible behind the bushiness of his beard.

“Is that bread I smell? Hungry it makes me. I will clean up for supper.” He headed back outside.

That evening, after the Ollenburgers had retired to bed, Summer lit a lamp and sat in her chair with her Bible in her lap. She stumbled upon Second Corinthians, chapter four. As she read, her heart set up such a clamor it filled her ears. Bits and pieces seemed to leap from the page and fill her searching soul.

“For God, who commanded the light to shine out of darkness, hath shined in our hearts, to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ …”
How Summer wanted the darkness to slip away—for God to bring light to her heart.

“We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair….”
She didn’t understand why her family was gone—she would always feel perplexed by their abrupt departure—yet she wished to throw away the cloak of despair.

She read on to chapter five, and the first verse made her catch her breath.
“We have a building of God, an house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.”

She straightened in her chair, remembering what Mr. Ollenburger had said about her children—they now lived eternally with God in heaven. Summer’s heart pounded ever harder. How she wanted a building of God, too. She wanted to know that, someday, she would also reside eternally with Him.

“I want faith in you, God,” she whispered into the quiet room. A peace settled around her heart. She felt a smile tug at her lips even as tears pricked her eyes. “You’re here, aren’t you? You’re right here, waiting for me to invite you in.”

Closing her eyes, she dropped to her knees. “Dear God, my heavenly Father, I believe in your Son. Let Him enter my heart. Flood my soul with His presence. Fill me with your joy.”

As she opened her eyes to the simple room lit by flickering lantern glow, Summer’s heart sang with the knowledge of God’s love for her. For an instant, she thought she heard Him murmur, with great tenderness, “
My
Summer …”

The joy had come.

Grossmutter
tapped Peter’s coat sleeve and tipped her head toward
Frau
Steadman, who walked on his other side. The old woman’s eyes shone with pleasure. Peter looked again at the woman, so straight and proud beside him. He shook his head with wonder, giving
Grossmutter
a smile to acknowledge he understood her silent message.

Not once throughout the church service had the woman cringed with shame or prickled with anger when the people in town stared or whispered. Now, walking out, she smiled and nodded silent greetings, even though few responded with more than looks of distrust. Something had changed her.

He knew what. There was a new light shining in her eyes, an awareness of her own value he had not seen before. In the past days Summer Steadman had discovered her God. Although eager to ask her about it, he hesitated. New faith could be a private thing, and she seemed to be a private woman. He would not push her, much as he longed to celebrate this victory with her. In a way, he believed it to be his victory, too.

Thomas peeked around
Grossmutter
at his father. “Pa, are we going anywhere today for
faspa
?”

Before Peter could answer,
Herr
Schmidt approached and took hold of Peter’s coat sleeve. “Ollenburger, a word we will have with you,”
Herr
Schmidt nearly snarled in German. “Inside.” He released Peter’s sleeve and strode away, his back stiff.

Peter glanced at the woman, who simply raised her eyebrows and offered a nervous smile.
Grossmutter
patted his arm, offering silent reassurance. He turned to his son. “I will answer when done I am inside.”

His feet felt heavy as he plodded back to the church. He passed through the door, which
Herr
Schmidt had left open, and stepped into the almost empty sanctuary. The deacons and Reverend Enns waited in a forbidding row on the front pew. Peter swallowed the uneasiness that filled his throat and stood in the front of the church facing them.

“What is it you want of me?” He spoke in German.

Herr
Schmidt opened his mouth, but Reverend Enns put out his hand, addressing Peter himself. “Peter, the council has heard that you allow the woman whom you hired to provide teaching for your son to live in your house and reside in—” the older man’s voice cracked—“to reside in your own sleeping room. I ask you to either refute or confirm this claim.”

Peter clasped his hands together behind his back, praying silently for courage. “As I told
Herr
Schmidt and
Herr
Penner, my
shariah
was destroyed in the storm. So the woman does reside beneath my roof. She was using my sleeping room at the time of their visit.”

Herr
Schmidt and
Herr
Penner exchanged looks of satisfaction.

“And also I told them,” Peter continued calmly although his stomach quivered in tension, “that no longer do I reside in the house. I have taken residence in the barn.”

Reverend Enns shot each of the deacons a stern glance. “He speaks the truth? This is what he told you?”

“
Ja,
it is what he said, but—”

The reverend cut off Herr Schmidt’s words with a raised hand. “This part should have also been expressed to the council.”

Peter added, “The woman has a bed now in the room of my wife’s grandmother. But still, I stay in the barn.”

The two men exchanged another look that seemed to show disgust more than satisfaction. He waited while Reverend Enns stroked his beard and appeared to study the ceiling beams. The deacons, waiting on the bench, stared at their own feet and examined their fingernails while waiting for their leader to speak again.

At last the reverend addressed Peter. “For many years you have lived and worked in Gaeddert. You have proven yourself to be a man of integrity. Having this woman reside in your home casts suspicion and creates concern. Yet I am aware, from having spoken with Dr. Wiebe, that this woman was offered no other alternatives. You have fulfilled a biblical admonition of feeding the widowed by providing a home for her in her time of need. Yet, a widowed woman and a widower …” He shook his head. “I face a dilemma.”

“Reverend, may I speak?” Peter requested.

A wave of the man’s hand granted permission.

“This woman is a widow and an orphan. All of her family is buried on land owned by the Gaeddert family. She desires to purchase the land and build a small home of her own. She desires to remain in Gaeddert.”

“But she is not Mennonite!”
Herr
Penner burst out.

Reverend Enns shot him a silencing look before turning back to Peter. “Continue, Peter.”

“If the Gaedderts are willing to sell her the land, she will have a home of her own as soon as one can be built. That will, no doubt, be spring. In the meantime, she must have a place to live for the winter. My Thomas needs her. A very good teacher she is to him, and convenient it is to have her so near.”

“But in your
home,
”
Herr
Schmidt spluttered, his face red.

“In my home with a chaperone,” Peter corrected.

Herr
Schmidt waved his hand. “Bah! A chaperone! A woman who is old, who sleeps much, and whose eyesight is failing.”

“I cannot change the age or eyesight of
Frau
Suderman. Old she may be, but alert. She sees what needs seeing with her eyes.” Peter could tell his words did not relieve either Schmidt or Penner. He squared his shoulders. “If you have concerns, I suggest this. You come to my place, you visit without warning, you see if anything improper goes on. If ever you find something that is against my Maker’s commandments, I will move myself into the hotel until the woman’s home is built. This is my vow to you.”

A whispered consultation took place among the men while Peter stood silently and waited. He felt sweat tickle between his shoulder blades, and his heart seemed to beat at twice its normal rhythm. A silent prayer repeated in his head—
Your will, Lord. Let this be according to your will
.

Suddenly
Herr
Schmidt shot to his feet and stormed from the church. Reverend Enns waited until the door had slammed behind the man before facing Peter once more.

“Peter, we feel you have been honest today, and you are sincere in your desire to do what is right. We will do as you have suggested—make visits to your place without notice.” He paused for a moment, tugging at the end of his thick beard. “It saddens me that others will not approve of this decision. There may be conflict among our membership. But we will pray for hearts to accept even in disagreement. Thank you, Peter. You may go.”

He held in his sigh of relief until he was outside the church. Then he let it go with a huge dispelling of breath. He looked around, surprised to see few people had left the churchyard. Heat built in the back of his neck. They must have waited to hear what the council had decided. Well, they would not hear it from him. He turned toward the wagon, where Thomas,
Grossmutter,
and
Frau
Steadman waited.

Thomas crossed the yard to meet him. “So, Pa, can we? Can we go to
faspa
at the Penners’?”

Peter felt certain they would not be welcome at the Penners’ home. He ushered the boy to the wagon. “Thomas, I think we go home and eat there.”

Thomas’s shoulders deflated. “But I never get to see my friends.” Then he brightened. “May I invite the Krafts to our place for
faspa
? It’s only Toby and his folks—it wouldn’t take much to feed them. And maybe Toby and I could play in the barn?”

Peter looked to
Frau
Steadman. He did not wish to put her in an uncomfortable position.

“I think it would be good for Thomas to have time with his friends,” she said. “You invite them. I can stay in the bedroom if they’d rather not spend time with me. I’ll take Thomas’s books with me and plan his lessons for next week.”

The boy made a sour face, and she laughed, reaching out to tousle his hair. Peter noticed
Frau
Schmidt, Malinda, and
Frau
Penner scowling in their direction. He shifted his position to block them from the woman’s view. “If you are sure …”

“I’m quite sure. Invite your friends, Thomas. Please don’t allow me to disrupt your normal routines.” She smiled. “Truly, I’ll be fine.”

Peter looked into Thomas’s eager face. “Go and ask them. But walk slow, and do not be disappointed if other plans they already have.”

Thomas gave him an innocent grin. “I won’t be, Pa. I’ll be right back.”