Waiting for Summer's Return

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  “Ja-a-a.” Peter drew out the word. Had they not decided to let talk of Summer end?

  “So Frau Suderman would not resent another woman living in your house …”

  Tobias frowned at his wife. “Woman, what are you leading to now?”

  Katherine offered a sly smile. “Ach, I am not leading to anything, husband. I am just thinking. Peter could benefit from someone who would give his grandmother help during the day. And in our community are two widows who would be able to help. Maybe he should—”

  Peter held up his hand. “What you are thinking I already know.” He shook his head, his ears hot. “A widow in my house I do not need. Ideas it would give her.”

  “Ja,” Katherine agreed, “and ideas it might give you.”

  “Katherine!” Tobias’s tone held reproach. “Too bold you are being.”

  “Boldness is not a bad thing,” the woman insisted. “To mend a broken heart sometimes takes turning attention to someone else.”

  Peter knew Katherine meant well, so he answered her kindly. “I thank you for your concern. But I tell you my heart has no desire to look to someone else. It is fine just the way it is.”

  Katherine nodded slowly. “Fine it might be, but do not let it grow closed, Peter. Let it stay open. It may be that God brought Summer to open you to the idea of taking a wife again.”

  Tobias slurped his coffee noisily. His wife shot him an impatient look. “Men! You cannot allow a serious conversation to happen.” She turned back to Peter and touched his forearm. “I keep her in my prayers, for God’s will to be done in her life. And yours, too, Peter.”

  He swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. God’s will is best, he told himself. I pray I can accept it if it means never seeing my Summer again.

  Peter stood in the doorway to Grossmutter’s room, peering in as the doctor leaned over the bed. He could hear each labored breath the old woman made, and his heart constricted in worry and fear. Was she dying? He knew if her life slipped away, her soul would be winged to a better place, yet the selfish part of him longed for her to remain here with him and the boy. How they would miss her steadfast presence should she leave them.

  As if sensing his father’s thoughts, Thomas tugged at Peter’s sleeve. “Grandmother isn’t going to … die … is she, Pa?” The question came out in a harsh whisper.

  Peter put his arm around the boy and pulled him hard against his side. “Sick she is, son, and old and tired. It may be God is ready to let her come home to Him, where she will be healthy and whole once more.”

  The boy’s eyes flooded with tears. “But I don’t want her to go.”

  “Nor do I, for sure,” Peter agreed, “but we must think what is best for our dear Grossmutter, ja?”

  The boy nodded, his chin low. Then he looked up. “Pa, do I have to go to school today? I want to stay here with you and Grandmother.”

  Peter could not refuse his son when the boy begged so with his eyes. He gave Thomas a pat. “You read to her, ja? She likes that. She will enjoy having you near.”

  “I’ll read Summer’s letters to her again,” Thomas said. “She always smiles when I tell her what Summer says in her letters.”

  The boy scampered to his room as Dr. Wiebe moved toward the doorway. Peter stepped out of his way, and the doctor closed Grossmutter’s door before addressing Peter.

  “She has some congestion in her chest,” the man said, rubbing his chin, “but I do not think it is serious. I think she is just worn out. Too old she is to be working herself so hard. She needs much rest.”

  “Ja, rest. I will see she gets it.”

  “You cannot sit beside her all day and watch her,” the doctor said. “As soon as you leave, she will be up and doing. She told me as much. The housework must be done, she says.”

  “Katherine Kraft said she will come once or twice a week.”

  “Once or twice a week is not enough. If you want Frau Suderman to recover, she must not work so hard ever again.” Dr. Wiebe fixed his eyes firmly on Peter. “Peter, have you considered—”

  “I got them, Pa!” Thomas bounced beside the men, a cluster of pages in his hand. “I’ll go read to Grandmother now.”

  The doctor put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You go in, Thomas, but do not keep her awake if she tries to sleep. Sleep is good medicine.”

  The boy nodded, his expression serious. “I won’t. But I know these letters will be good medicine, too. She likes hearing from Summer.” He closed the bedroom door behind him.

  Dr. Wiebe looked at the door for long moments, his forehead creased in thought. Finally he turned back to Peter. “While Frau Steadman was here, Frau Suderman need not work so hard. She did better then, ja?”

  Peter thought about how Grossmutter had spoken more, been more lively, when Summer was with them. “Ja, she did better then.”

  The doctor touched Peter’s arm. “Another woman in the house to do the work every day would be good for your grandmother.”

  Peter’s neck grew hot with the doctor’s insinuation. Was everyone going to push him to marry again?

  The doctor gave his arm another pat, then turned away. “You think about it, Peter. God did not intend for man to be alone. Maybe you have been alone long enough now. Another wife would be good for you, good for the boy, good for Frau Suderman. It could solve many problems.”

  Peter saw the doctor to the door and thanked him for coming. Then he crossed to the stove and poured himself a cup of strong coffee.

  What had Katherine said? That God had brought Summer to open his heart to the idea of loving again. Even the doctor, a very wise man, thought taking a wife would be good. Peter shook his head. He did not want to think of this now. A wife was not to be taken to be a housekeeper. A wife must be a helpmate—a partner in life and in love.

  The sound of Thomas’s voice drifted out to him, Summer’s name in the midst of what the boy said. Peter lowered his head and closed his eyes. When he thought wife, he thought Summer. Until the word wife did not bring to mind a slender woman with dark hair and eyes, he would not think of it. But he did not find it so easy to set aside.

  34

  HOW APPROPRIATE THE message etched on the ornate granite tombstone Nadine had chosen for Horace, Summer thought as she stood beside the gravesite with her mother-in-law.

  “You know,” Nadine said softly, “when I chose this spot for Horace’s final resting place, I thought I would bring the children here to picnic and visit.”

  Summer glanced around, drinking in the beauty of the surrounding landscape. The Bennington Street Cemetery’s shaded grounds, which received ocean breezes from the Harbor, was a lovely spot to picnic. She took Nadine’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

  “I’m sorry the children aren’t here, but I’m here, Mother.”

  Nadine sighed. “Yes, you are. And I appreciate your company, Summer.”

  Summer relished those words. Who would have thought that she and Nadine would ever share a loving relationship? Yet, over the past months, Nadine had grown in her knowledge of God’s love and had, in turn, bestowed tender care on Summer. Nadine had come to mean a great deal to Summer, and she knew the woman loved her, too.

  “Summer, I wish to make a trip to Kansas.”

  Summer jerked her hand away and turned a startled gaze on Nadine. “You—you want to what?”

  Nadine pursed her lips. “Summer, kindly do not raise your voice to me in this somber surrounding.”

  “I apologize.” Summer took a deep breath to calm her racing heart. “But you took me by surprise.”

  “I assumed my idea would meet with your approval,” Nadine said. “You’ve spoken of the friendships you forged in that Kansas town.” She pursed her lips. “I can never recall the name …”

  “Gaeddert.” Summer pressed her hand to her throat.

  “Gaeddert,” Nadine repeated. “There is even a house in which we could stay while visiting. The boy’s last letter indicated the house still sits empty, so perhaps we co
uld stay in it rather than share a hotel room.” She tipped her head. “Do you not want to see the people again?”

  Faces paraded through Summer’s mind, coupled with a fierce longing. Her eyes slipped closed, her lips tipped into a smile, her breathing increased. Oh yes, Summer desired to see the people again …

  “Summer?”

  Nadine’s soft voice brought Summer’s eyes open.

  “What are your thoughts?”

  For long moments Summer stood silent, her gaze beyond Horace’s headstone. She sucked on her lower lip, organizing her thoughts. It had taken weeks for the deep ache of missing Peter and Thomas to lessen. Wouldn’t a visit reactivate the pain? “It—it is a lengthy journey. Are you sure you want to go?”

  Nadine lifted her chin. “I wish to visit the graves of my son and my grandchildren. I wish to say my final good-byes to them. Will you deny me that?”

  Summer’s shoulders slumped. How could she refuse? “When—when do you wish to go?”

  Nadine looped her hand through Summer’s arm and began moving toward the carriage. “Train schedules need to be checked and tickets purchased. I must make arrangements for Clarence and Mildred to be in charge of the house during our absence. I would think a week of preparation would be enough.”

  Summer watched the toes of her shoes move across the grass. “We’d be there in two weeks …” Her breath came in little spurts.

  “However,” Nadine considered, pausing in her walk, “perhaps we need to give those in Gaeddert a bit more notice. You’ll want to send a letter, and that will take several days to reach them. They will probably need to give the little house a cleaning. Let’s try to arrive the first week of June.”

  Nearly a month instead of two weeks. Summer’s gaze bounced upward. An entire month? The anticipation might drive her mad!

  Nadine asked, “Do you find that agreeable?”

  In slow motion, Summer nodded. “Yes. Yes, I find that agreeable.”

  “Good.” Nadine put her arm around Summer’s waist and gave her a brief hug. A cunning look crossed the woman’s face. “Oh, and before we go, you will visit a dress shop. You must set aside those black gowns. The time of mourning is over.”

  “Look what I have, boy,” Peter announced as he stepped through the front door. It did his heart good to see Grossmutter in her chair, watching as Thomas stirred something on the stove. He was glad the old woman had not complained when he’d hired the oldest Schmidt girl, Malinda, to do household chores each afternoon. The slowing down on work—and the prayers offered by him and the boy—had helped her regain her strength.

  Thomas set aside the wooden spoon and moved toward his father. “What is it?”

  Peter held out the envelope. “A letter from Summer.”

  Grossmutter sat up straight. A smile broke across her face. “Summer.”

  “Summer!” Thomas reached for it with both hands. “Let me see, Pa! I’ll read it to us!”

  Peter chuckled as he placed the letter in Thomas’s outstretched hands. “This eager you should be to do your schoolwork, ja?”

  Thomas grinned as he tore the envelope open and pulled out the letter. Peter peeked at the neat lines of script covering both sides of the single sheet of paper. Just the sight of the words, penned by Summer’s graceful hand, made his heart beat in a happy rhythm.

  Thomas plopped down at the table and read aloud.

  “Dear Thomas, Peter, and Lena,

  I have a surprise for you. I hope it will be a happy surprise. Nadine has decided she would like to visit the graves of her son and grandchildren, to say good-bye to them, so she will be traveling to Gaeddert. Of course, I will be traveling with her. This means I will be seeing you soon. I am looking forward to visiting with you. I have missed you. I want to see how tall Thomas has grown. I want to taste Lena’s good borscht. I want to hear Peter’s loud laugh that makes me want to laugh, too.”

  Peter’s eyebrows shot up. His laugh made her feel happy inside? He had not known this. But when he interrupted, it was to ask a different question. “It says she comes for a visit, is that right, boy?”

  Thomas scanned the letter. “Yes, Pa—she looks forward to visiting with us.”

  Peter’s heart fell, but he still smiled. “Ah, good. We all will enjoy to have a visit with Summer.”

  Grossmutter waved her gnarled hand and demanded in German to know what the letter said.

  Peter obliged her by translating it. The woman’s face lit in a happy smile.

  Thomas lifted the letter again and continued.

  “Nadine and I will arrive by Marion and McPherson Railway at the depot in Hillsboro on the fourth of June. The stationmaster indicated the train’s arrival time to be two o’clock in the afternoon. I sincerely hope Peter will be available to pick us up and transport us to Gaeddert.”

  Peter’s heart increased its tempo. He would set aside anything else to go meet the train.

  “Pa? Can I go, too? I’ll be out of school.”

  Although Peter would rather meet the woman alone, he knew it was selfish to ask the boy to stay behind. “If Malinda will come stay with Grossmutter, you may go.”

  Thomas beamed. “Thank you!” He bent his head back to the letter.

  “If it would not be too much trouble, Nadine and I would like to stay in the house you built near the graves. I am assuming, of course, that it has not been purchased. If it is unavailable, we will take rooms at the hotel. If we are able to stay at the house, it will no doubt require a cleaning prior to our arrival. Could you hire someone from town to take care of this? Nadine and I will pay them when we arrive. You are familiar with young people who might appreciate earning a little extra pocket money, so I trust you to find someone reliable.”

  “Summer sure uses big words, Pa,” Thomas said. “Kind of hard to read sometimes.”

  “You are doing fine,” Peter praised. “Big words are good to learn. Someday you may need to know them and use them.” Especially if Thomas went away to a school in a big city, as he and the woman had discussed. “So you pay attention, ja?”

  The boy scratched his head. “Okay, Pa.”

  “Is that all she says?”

  “No. There’s more.” Thomas turned back to the letter.

  “I am so happy to tell you Nadine has accepted God’s love for herself. You are all very good teachers. What I learned from you I was able to share with Nadine. I believe the angels in heaven sang when Nadine made the decision to accept Jesus into her heart, just as they must have sung for me. Thank you for your kind teaching. Your lessons are reaching eternity.”

  Thomas frowned. “What does that mean?”

  “It is like when you throw a pebble in the water, and the circles keep getting bigger and bigger, and finally they touch the bank. All from one little pebble. When you tell one person about God, and he tells somebody else, it adds another circle.”

  Thomas gave an eager nod. “And all the circles will touch heaven someday, right, Pa?”

  The boy’s grasp of the idea of spreading God’s word made Peter’s chest expand in pride. What a smart boy. What a good boy. Peter reached out and pulled his son close in a hug. “You are right, boy. And you remember to share God’s love just the way you did with Summer. God’s love is not something to be kept hidden, for sure.”

  A scraping noise captured Peter’s attention. He released the boy to look toward his bedroom. There, through the open doorway, he saw Grossmutter’s backside. She bent forward, and by her slow motions, he knew she tugged at something.

  Crossing to the doorway, he peered in. He had moved Summer’s chair into the corner of his bedroom so Thomas and Grossmutter would not have to be always reminded of her absence. Now Grossmutter was attempting to drag the chair from the room. He jumped in front of her and took the chair from her.

  Her eyes sparked. She pointed to the main room. “Setzen sie den stuhl in die kuüche ein!”

  Peter nodded as a smile tugged at his face. He would put the chair in the kitchen, as she wished if
she would move aside and allow him to do it. She waddled back to the kitchen and sat in her rocking chair, watching as he carried Summer’s chair into the room. He started to put it down, but she snapped, “Nein!” and pointed where she wanted it. He obeyed.

  Once the chair was in position next to Grossmutter’s, the old woman smiled in satisfaction. She patted the armrest of Summer’s chair and murmured to herself.

  Thomas sighed. “June fourth. Only three more weeks and Summer will be here.” Then he burst out laughing. “I made a joke, Pa! Summer the lady and summer the season will both be here at the same time.”

  Ja, Peter thought, tousling his son’s hair. Both bring a welcome warmth to my heart. But I wish my Summer was staying longer than a season.

  35

  SUMMER SMOOTHED THE skirt of her new twill dress. Her white gloves appeared to glow against the vivid color of the fabric. She grimaced. Had she made the wrong choice in her attire?

  When she had spotted the gown in the window of Miss Fannie’s Dress Shop on Boylston Street, she had fallen in love on the spot. After wearing black for so many months, the bold reddish purple dress had thrilled her eyes. The moment she slipped it over her head, Nadine declared it a perfect choice. Never had Summer paid more than six dollars for a dress, but Nadine had insisted on that, too. She admitted she felt feminine and attractive in the gown with its pleated front and velvet butterfly half belt. The dress was beautiful and flattering—there was no doubt.

  But was it appropriate for Gaeddert?

  In less than an hour they would reach Hillsboro. Peter would be waiting—in his chambray work shirt, tan trousers, and thick boots, with his little plaid hat in his big gentle hands. What would he think when she stepped off the train? Would he disapprove of her city finery? She touched her traveling hat—a purple velvet bowler with a raven’s wing sweeping back on its right side—and she wished again she had chosen something more demure. Not so blatantly Boston.