Where the Heart Leads (7 page)

Thomas flicked a surprised glance in her direction. Her sneezing seemed to be related to dust, and he’d just created a cloud of it by slapping at his filthy pants. Yet she hadn’t pointed a finger of blame.

“Sneezing clears the head,” Pa said, chuckling. “So you will be fine now.”

Belinda peeked past Pa to Thomas. “I didn’t realize
Herr
Bark-man had hired you to repair our roof, Thomas.”

Pa beamed. “
Ja
, a job Barkman gave him. So now he earns a wage.”

Long-legged for a woman, Belinda was tall enough that her head reached Thomas’s chin. Perspiration glowed on her forehead and nose, yet she showed no signs of moving into the comfort of shade. “So you’ll be staying in Hillsboro, then, Thomas?”

Thomas knew whatever he said would be repeated. He chose his words carefully. “I’ve promised to see that your roof is repaired.”

Belinda’s fine brows came down, the scowl a familiar sight from their childhood. But a moment later, her expression cleared and she gave a nod. “Of course. There aren’t many job opportunities in Hillsboro, and you’ll want to find something more suited to your degree, I’m sure.”

When Thomas didn’t answer, Belinda shifted her attention to Pa.

“
Herr
Ollenburger, I will be going to the mangle house this afternoon. If
Frau
Ollenburger has sheets or clothes to be mangled, I would be happy to take them for her.”

Pa threw back his head and hooted. “
Ach!
One does not often hear the word ‘happy’ when speaking of mangling.”

Thomas, thinking of the effort it took to push and pull the box of rocks over cloth-wound rollers, agreed with Pa.

Belinda smiled, tipping her blond head. “It isn’t the task of mangling that gives me pleasure, but I do appreciate the comfort of pressed, softened sheets on my bed. Besides,
arbeit macht das Leben süz
.”

“For sure, work sweetens life,” Pa agreed, his grin wide. He scratched his beard, winking in Belinda’s direction. “I tell Summer what you say about the mangle house. But maybe she decides to sweeten her own life with the mangling, hmm?”

Belinda and Pa laughed softly together, as if sharing a joke. A weight pressed in Thomas’s chest. He felt oddly alone standing under the sun while his pa and Belinda Schmidt enjoyed a shared moment of amusement. He opened his mouth to suggest they head in for lunch, but suddenly Pa’s expression turned serious.

His arms crossed over his chest, Pa said, “How is your mother doing now, Belinda? I have not seen her in Sunday service for many weeks.”

Immediately, Belinda lost her sparkle. Her shoulders slumped, and she ducked her head. “Mama is . . . having a hard time,
Herr
Ollenburger. I’m worried about her.”

“Well, losing her husband is a hard thing.” Pa’s kind, serious tone brought Belinda’s head up. “We will keep praying for her heart to heal. And I will send Summer over with some
honigkuchen
. That will be
goot, ja
?”

Belinda’s eyes flew wide. “Oh, no! Honey cookies take so much effort, and your wife has three little girls to care for each day.” She swallowed hard. “Besides, Mama wouldn’t eat them. I can hardly get her to eat anything.”

Pa’s frown expressed concern. “Not eating is normal when one has suffered loss.” He stroked his beard again, his expression solemn. “Well, if no cookies we send, at least we send Summer. She understands your mother’s pain of loss. Maybe she can give words of comfort.”

Belinda blinked rapidly. “Thank you,
Herr
Ollenburger. Perhaps a visit from Summer would do Mama good.”

Pa gave Belinda’s shoulder an awkward pat. “We will be praying. God restores joy.”

A sad smile appeared on Belinda’s face. “Thank you.” She backed up, waving her hand toward her house. “I’d better go in. I need to put a meal on the table. Good-bye,
Herr
Ollenburger.”

Thomas followed Pa across the alley toward the back door of the little house. “Since when are you friends with Belinda Schmidt?”

Pa gave Thomas a puzzled look. “Have I been her enemy?”

“No. But friends? With the Schmidts?” Thomas raised one brow. He could never remember
Herr
or
Frau
Schmidt making any effort to befriend Pa. Especially after he took Summer as his wife—a woman not raised in the Mennonite faith—the Schmidt family had looked down their noses at the Ollenburgers.

Pa frowned. “We must not judge, Thomas. Belinda is a fine girl. She cares for her mother and sister, and all without complaint.” He pointed a finger, making Thomas wish he could shrink into the sparse blades of grass. “You do not hold grudges based on her behavior as a little girl. She is no longer that little girl, and the Bible tells us to forgive seventy times seven.”

Thomas cleared his throat, offering a meek shrug. “Sure, Pa. I don’t hold a grudge.”

Pa’s expression cleared. He threw his arm around Thomas’s shoulders and herded him through the door. “Then let us eat and return to work. It is
goot
for man to labor hard,
ja
?”

Thomas followed Pa to the kitchen, where his little sisters dashed forward to grab Pa’s legs and beg to be held. Thomas stood to the side, feeling left out again. As he watched his father stoop down to catch all three girls in a hug, he suddenly wondered why Belinda hadn’t wished him good-bye before scampering off into her own house.

And then he wondered why it bothered him.

6

T
HE AROMA OF DINNER
greeted his nose as Thomas stepped through the back door. As he had come to expect over the past several days, his sisters raced across the floor to climb all over him, bantering and giggling in their excitement to have him home again. He responded by swinging Abby and Gussie in a circle, then tossing Lena in the air and catching her again.

His littlest sister wrapped her arms around his neck and squealed. Thomas carried her to the table while Abby and Gussie tugged at his sleeves, begging, “Again, Thomas! Swing me again!”

He sent Summer a helpless look, and she shook her head, laughing. “Come, girls, let your brother be.” She plucked Lena from his arms and slid her into her chair at the table. “He’s worked long and hard today. He deserves a rest and some quiet.”

On tiptoes, their hands covering their giggling lips, Abby and Gussie crept to their chairs and sat, peering at Thomas with sparkling eyes.

Summer winked at Thomas. “They enjoy having you here.”

Thomas smiled, but he wanted to groan. Was it kind to let his sisters get accustomed to his presence when he’d be leaving soon? The Schmidts’ roof was almost complete. One more day of hard labor, and he should be free to return to Boston.

Rolling up his sleeves as he went, he joined Pa at the washstand near the sink and soaped his arms to the elbow. With he and Pa crowded side by side, it was a tight fit, but they managed to get their hands clean.

After Pa’s prayer, Summer dished food onto the girls’ plates before handing the bowls to Pa and Thomas. Thomas, observing how his little sisters obediently kept their hands in their laps until everyone had been served, appreciated the training Summer had given them. They were as well-mannered as any high-class Boston child.

A thought hit him: If Pa and Summer were to move to Boston, the whole family could be together. Pa no longer had his mill, so nothing held him in Kansas. If they all moved to Boston, Thomas wouldn’t need to feel guilty about leaving. The little girls, with their proper behavior, would fit neatly in Nadine’s world. Perhaps he should suggest it.

Then Pa said, “No pickles? Or
kraut
?”

Summer arched a brow. “Isn’t there enough food on the table to fill you?” The center of the table overflowed with platters of fried pork, noodles, potatoes, carrots, and sliced home-baked bread. Jars of jam and a molded pat of butter crowded between platters.

“
Ach
, a meal is not a meal without something sour,” Pa said.

Thomas could imagine Nadine’s sour look at his father’s request for pickles.

Summer laughed softly. “Very well. I’ll get some pickles from the pantry.” She ran her hand over Pa’s shoulders as she moved past him, her slender fingers tweaking a thick hank of hair behind his ear. When she put the pickle jar in front of Pa’s plate, she leaned forward and delivered a kiss on his whiskered cheek.

He smiled, forking two fat pickles onto his plate. “
Dank
, Summer.”

Another sweet laugh provided her reply.

Thomas, looking on, experienced a rush of envy. Someday he wanted what Pa had with Summer—a loving, tender, God-ordained relationship with a woman. He had witnessed friendship turning to love between his father and Summer. Over the years of their marriage, despite facing rejection from some community members who couldn’t accept Summer’s non-Mennonite upbringing, the heartache of losing their firstborn child, and now the loss of their home, the love had never flickered.

From
Grossmutter
’s stories, he knew his mother and Pa had been childhood friends before declaring their love for one another. It seemed to Thomas that friendship was key in providing a sound base for a marriage. The thought made Daphne flit into his mind. She wasn’t a friend, exactly—more an acquaintance. He thought backward in time and scowled, realizing he’d never really considered a girl a friend. Maybe it was time he looked a little harder at the females in his circle of acquaintanceship.

Summer picked up a jar from the middle of the table. “Belinda made the gooseberry jam. The Schmidts have a bush growing in their side yard.” She made a face as she spooned thick, seedy preserves onto a slice of bread. “I don’t have the patience to pick berries surrounded by thorns, but I do appreciate Belinda’s diligence. It’s quite tasty.” She offered the jar to Thomas. “Try some. The jam is a thank-you for visiting her mother.”

Thomas looked at the jar’s contents, seeing instead an image of Belinda—tall, honey-haired, in a simple dress and apron, swishing a broom’s bristles over a wooden porch floor. Then a second picture intruded: Daphne—diminutive, dark-haired, fashionably attired, sipping punch from a cut-glass cup. Two such different images.

Pa spoke around a bite of pork. “How is
Frau
Schmidt?”

Summer put down her fork and sighed. “Not well at all. I understand why Belinda is so concerned. The woman is lost in melancholy. And Malinda is so caught up in her own grief, she doesn’t help at all. Poor Belinda carries a full load between working at the general merchandise store, caring for the house, and trying to maintain a positive spirit. And she’s suffered loss, too. Her mother doesn’t seem to recognize anyone’s pain but her own, however, and we all know how self-centered Malinda has always been.”

Thomas glanced out the kitchen window. Across the expanse of their backyard and separating alley, the glow of a lantern lit the window of the Schmidts’ kitchen. Was Belinda sitting down to dinner with two uncommunicative women? His heart lurched in sympathy.

“You keep going over to visit,” Pa said, giving Summer’s hand a squeeze. “Time it takes for hearts to heal, but we know healing comes.
Frau
Schmidt needs the reminder, and she needs to see
Be’weiss
of a healed heart.” He smiled warmly at Summer. “What better testament is there than a woman who has been restored to joy?”

More pictures of Belinda tried to crowd through Thomas’s mind—pictures he didn’t want to explore. Pa had told him not to carry a grudge, and he’d committed to letting go of his past dislike of Belinda Schmidt. But this wave of sympathy was sending his heart in directions he didn’t want it to go.

Thomas set down the jar without helping himself to preserves. “Dinner was very good, Summer. Thank you. But may I be excused? I believe I’d like to take a walk and stretch my legs.”

Abby stood up eagerly. “May I go, too, Thomas?”

Gussie leaned forward, her bright eyes begging. “And me?”

Lena echoed, “And me!”

Thomas shot his parents a look he hoped communicated his desire to be alone.

Pa caught Lena’s waving fist. “You girls go for a walk with me.”

“But we want to go with Thomas!” Abby and Gussie chorused the complaint.

Pa shook his head, his expression firm. “Not this time,
kjinja
.” His tone softened as he added, “If there are letters, I will need your help to get them home safely.”

The girls sighed but voiced no more arguments.

Thomas pushed away from the table. “I’ll see you later.” He strode out the back door. Heading to the narrow alleyway between yards, he planned to steer clear of the main streets and walk along the outskirts of town. But as he passed a small shed on the corner of the lot directly behind his parents’, he heard something that brought him to a halt.

He tipped his head, listening intently. The wind rustled leaves in the trees that lined the alley. Night sounds—a turtledove’s coo, a dog’s distant bark, the gentle lullaby of the wind—tried to mask the noise, but he heard it again. A sound of distress. Weeping.

He crept to the shed and put his ear against the planked door. The sound came from inside. He considered moving on, letting whomever it was have privacy, but in the end he couldn’t. Someone needed help or comfort.

He tapped lightly and gave the door a push. The hinges squeaked, and a path of light fell across the dirt floor of the tiny building. In the corner, nearly hidden by shadows, Thomas glimpsed a woman crouching forward over her lap, crying into her apron.

Belinda Schmidt.

“Poor Belinda carries a full load.”
Apparently Belinda’s load had finally overwhelmed her.

He cleared his throat, then whispered, “Belinda?”

She burrowed forward into her lap. Sobs convulsed her, but the sounds that had captured his attention ceased.

He took a step into the shed. “Is there anything I can do?”

With a jerky motion, she sat upright and turned her face toward him. Her eyes were red and puffy, her blotchy cheeks moist. She’d obviously been crying for quite a while. The sight of her misery touched Thomas more deeply than he could understand.

Summer’s comments returned to him.
“She’s suffered loss, too.”
Although Thomas hadn’t cared a great deal for
Herr
Schmidt, the man had been Belinda’s father. Now he was gone. Having lost his own mother and
Grossmutter
, he understood her heartache.