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
SUMMER 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.”
The woman’s eyes followed the boy, fondness in their depths. When she looked up to find Peter watching her, her cheeks took on a pink hue that he believed was not related to the cold.
Peter gestured toward the wagon. “Come. If company we are to have, we must hurry home and prepare.”
He had just settled Grossmutter and the woman when Thomas returned. The boy’s breath came out in little puffs with his effort to keep from running.
“They’re coming, Pa!” Thomas reached for his father, and Peter hefted him into the back of the wagon. The boy leaned forward to touch the woman’s shoulder. “Summer, Mrs. Kraft said she’d like to get to know you.”
Peter watched the woman’s fine eyebrows shoot upward. “She did?”
Thomas nodded. “So you won’t have to hide in the bedroom.”
Peter sucked in his breath. The boy’s outspokenness could be hard to bear.
But Summer merely released a light laugh. “You don’t want me working on too many lessons for next week, I’m thinking.” Her voice held a teasing lilt.
Peter couldn’t help but grin as he pulled himself into the wagon. Yes, the woman had changed. He picked up the whip. “Giddap! A faspa we must prepare.”
21
PETER HAD ALMOST FORGOTTEN how pleasant faspa could be. The last ones he and the boy had attended had been tense affairs, with people giving warnings about the woman. This time, though, only happy conversation took place around the table. After the simple lunch of cold sausage, zweibach, and sand plum moos had been consumed, the two boys went to the barn to play in the hay. Grossmutter murmured her farewells and toddled to her bedroom to rest. Peter, Summer, and the Krafts remained at the table to chat.
Waiting for Summer's Return Page 17
