Her mother-in-law’s attire was nearly as flashy as Summer’s. Although Nadine had chosen a more matronly shade of deep myrtle green, her dress was styled in the latest fashion, with leg-of-mutton sleeves and gold braid trim. Nadine had insisted on a thorough washing and a change of clothes at the last stop, so Summer felt as fresh as was possible given the heat of this early June day. Yet she was certain neither Hillsboro nor Gaeddert had ever witnessed such gowns. She sighed.
Nadine turned from the window. “Sleepy?”
“No. I was just thinking.”
“About?” Nadine prompted.
Summer bit down on the inside of her lip. Would Nadine understand her concern even if she voiced it? Probably not. Nadine had never lived anywhere but Boston. She had always moved in the circles of high society. Gaeddert’s simplicity would be alien to her. Summer sighed again.
Nadine took her hand. “Are you worried you’ll find the people changed from when you were here before? The friendships perhaps not as important as they once were?”
Although that wasn’t Summer’s biggest concern at the moment, she did admit to wondering whether Peter’s feelings had changed. She had seen love shine in his eyes that day at the train station, had felt it in his hug and heard it in his gruff, pained voice. The old adage that absence makes the heart grow fonder had certainly proved true for her. Her love for Peter had continued to blossom despite the distance between them. But what of Peter’s love for her? Had it dimmed with the passage of time?
She finally answered. “I suppose there’s always that fear when one has been away for a while. Nothing stays the same, does it?”
A soft smile tipped up Nadine’s lips. “No, my dear, life does not stay the same. But are you not the one who keeps telling me God has good plans for His children? Perhaps you should relax and allow Him to be in control, hmm?”
Summer released a light laugh. “Oh, how wonderful it is to hear you speak of God so easily!”
Nadine gave Summer’s knee a brisk pat. “Everything will be fine, I promise you.”
Summer remembered making a promise to Nadine the day she arrived in Boston. Her promise to help Nadine find joy again had come to fruition. What a wonderful change had occurred in her mother-in-law’s outlook on life. Summer sighed. She could take any change save one—a change in Peter’s feelings toward her. Please, Lord, prepare my heart. If his love has changed, let me accept it as your will. But, heavenly Father, I do still love him so….
Peter pulled his watch from the little pocket inside his suit jacket and peered at the numbers again. Only three minutes had passed since the last time he had checked it. With a huff of disgust at his own impatience, he replaced the watch and tugged the hem of his jacket back into place.
Thomas stood beside his father, also dressed in his Sunday clothes. The boy shifted his shoulders and pulled a face. “My shirt’s scratching me, Pa. Why did we have to get dressed up, anyway?” The boy’s cranky tone told of his impatience at the waiting.
“We are dressed for a special occasion,” Peter reminded his son. “Summer coming back for a visit is special, so we dress to tell her how pleased we are.”
Thomas released a breath of disgust. “Well, it’s too hot in the sun.”
Beads of sweat dribbled down Peter’s forehead and his underarms felt moist. He hoped the dark spots would not show on his good black suit jacket. He touched the little knot of his ribbon tie and wished he could loosen it. Uncomfortable he felt, too. Yet, as much as he agreed with the boy, he would not move from this spot until the train arrived. He pointed to some trees on the east side of Ash Street. “If you are too hot, go stand in the shade over there. Just take care you do not get your clothes dirty.”
“Okay, Pa.” The boy trotted across the street and circled one of the tree trunks in slow motion, as if examining the ground. His circle complete, he leaned against the trunk and scraped his toe in the dirt.
Peter watched for a few minutes until he felt sure the boy would not start playing. Then he turned his attention back to the silver lines of track. The sun bounced off the rails in glaring rays. Peter squinted, his eyes watering, but he did not avert his attention. Soon, around that bend, would come an M and M Railway engine. Behind that engine would be passenger cars. And in one of those cars would be Summer.
His heart picked up its pace at the thought of her name. In his mind he held a picture from the last moments he had spent with her on this very boardwalk. Her face had been pale, her dark eyes sad and glittering with tears. Their good-bye had been rushed, unsatisfying. After this visit, he would make sure they had a chance for a decent leave-taking. No more rushing and lost words and unfinished thoughts. This time they would do it right.
From the distance, a whistle came—a hollow sound, like an echo. He straightened his shoulders and tipped forward as if fighting against a brisk wind. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes strained for the first glimpse of the engine. Then his heart flew into his throat. Around the bend—smoke streaming from its stack, wheels gliding along the track, whistle calling its warning—here it came!
“Here she comes, Pa!” Thomas huffed up beside his father’s elbow.
Peter was not sure if the boy referred to the train or Summer. “Ja, she comes, for sure!”
They stood together, eyes pinned to the train. The vibration beneath Peter’s feet sent shivers of awareness to the roots of his hair. He yanked off his hat and held it against his left thigh. The wind touched his newly trimmed hair and dried his eyes, but he did not blink. He feared he would miss his first glimpse of her if he closed his eyes for even a second.
“Come on, Pa!” Thomas grabbed his father’s hand and pulled.
Peter’s feet would not move. He stayed in place, his body tense, his heart thumping in anticipation. A porter hopped down from the first passenger car to place a small wooden stool on the ground beneath the single metal step.
“Let’s go meet her, Pa!”
Thomas’s tone sounded fretful now, but still Peter remained rooted in place. Fresh sweat broke out between his shoulder blades and across his forehead. His eyes hurt from forcing them open against the wind and sun.
The porter assisted a young woman from the train to the ground. She wore a fancy dress the same color as the blooms on ironweed that grew wild on the prairie. Another woman—older, her dress the color of the top side of ironweed leaves—followed the first woman. Peter swallowed hard as his focus jerked toward the train again, waiting for more people to disembark. Where was Summer?
“Pa, that’s her!” Thomas nearly yanked Peter’s arm from its socket. “Come on!”
Peter blinked twice before squinting hard at the two women. The younger one … could it be? Then she turned to face him, and he recognized the delicate chin and dark eyes of his Summer. He felt his heart catch. Summer … how different she appeared.
He knew when she saw him. A smile lit her face, and she left the side of the older woman to rush forward, her bright skirts swirling, her hands outstretched. Thomas released his father’s arm and raced to meet her. The two embraced, their laughter ringing out, with Summer’s slender arms around the boy. But her gaze remained on Peter’s face. She whispered something in the boy’s ear, and Thomas scampered toward the back of the train.
And still Peter did not move.
Time seemed to stand still while Summer approached him. Slowly. As if gliding. Her skirts swept the wooden walkway. Her gloved hands, with fingertips touching, rested against her waist. She stopped—the distance of one pace between them—and peered upward. The brim of her funny little hat shaded her forehead, but he could see her eyes. Dark, hopeful eyes.
“Hello, Peter.”
How could such a simple greeting cause such a big reaction? Peter took a shuddering breath to calm his jumbled nerves. He felt his lips quiver with his smile. Finally he managed to answer. “Hello, Summer. It is … it is good to see you again.”
He did not wish to be formal. He wished to sweep her into his arms
and welcome her with a kiss that would speak all the things his heart felt. But here in the sun with people nearby and her in a hat with a bird’s wing on it? His lips felt dry. He licked them and asked, “A good trip you had?” His voice sounded odd to his ears.
“Yes.” Her stilted speech did not match the warmth in her eyes. “Yes, we had a good trip.” Then her eyes flew wide and one hand rose to grasp her slender neck. “Oh!” She spun away from him, her hand reaching toward the older woman, who remained alone beside the passenger car. “Nadine, I’m so sorry. Please join us.”
The older woman took hold of her skirts and walked gingerly across the dusty ground toward them. When she reached Summer’s side, Summer placed her arm around the other woman’s waist and smiled up at Peter. “Peter Ollenburger, please meet my mother-inlaw, Mrs. Nadine Steadman.”
The woman extended her hand, and Peter took it briefly, nodding. “It is good to meet you, Frau Steadman.”
“Likewise, Mr. Ollenburger.”
The older woman seemed to take stock of him, and he felt his neck grow hot. He did not know what to say. His clumsy brain fumbled for words, but before he could find any, Thomas struggled onto the walkway, weighted down by two large bags. The women had planned a lengthy visit, it appeared.
“I got your bags, Summer! Can we go now, Pa?”
“Ja. Ja, we will go. The wagon”—he gestured toward the street—“it is over there. Come.” He reached for the bags.
“I can get ’em,” Thomas insisted. “C’mon! Summer, wait’ll you see Patches!”
The boy led the way, still jabbering. The women fell into step behind him, and Peter followed. He remembered how he had first wanted to come alone to get Summer and her mother-in-law. Now he felt grateful he had brought his son. Thomas’s cheerful chatter would fill the uncomfortable silence between the adults.
Even as he lifted Summer into the wagon—his heart pattering with remembrance of other times of performing this courtesy—he wondered at the awkwardness between them. She appeared so … different. Elegant. Her dark eyes were the same, but they seemed to now reside within a stranger’s form.
“Pa, let’s go!”
Thomas’s call reminded him he had been standing beside the wagon staring upward for too long. He felt heat climb his cheeks—a heat not brought on by the summer sun. Slapping his hat onto his head, he gave a brusque nod and headed around to his side of the wagon. He looked at the seat and realized there would not be room for him with both Summer and her mother-in-law there. He hesitated, unsure what to do.
Then Summer solved the problem herself. “I’ll sit in the back with Thomas.” She rose, looking expectantly at Peter. “Will you assist me, please?”
He scurried to the side of the wagon and lifted her out. When he set her feet on the ground, she did not move her hands from his shoulders right away, but looked at him with a winsome expression. His breath came fast and hard, and he wished once more they could be alone and he could just kiss her and see what happened. Her hands slipped away, and she moved to the rear of the wagon. He removed the tailgate so she could climb in. He offered her his hand, his heart thrumming at the feel of her slender fingers clasping his. She settled beside Thomas with her legs bent to the side and her skirts sweeping to cover her feet. Even sitting in the back of wagon she looked graceful.
And very out of place.
Summer stood on the porch of her Gaeddert house and watched Nadine. Her mother-in-law had insisted on visiting the little gravesite alone, and now she stood inside the picket fence in front of the row of headstones with her hands clasped behind her back. Summer could imagine Nadine’s sorrow as she faced the sandstone markers that served as a visual reminder of all she had lost.
On the way from Hillsboro, Thomas had jabbered nonstop, and Nadine had whispered how like Tod he was with his cheerful spirit. Yes, Thomas had talked, but Peter had not uttered a word. Although his face had shown joy at her arrival, it seemed only moments later he shut himself away from her. The air nearly crackled with tension despite the boy’s happy prattle.
Lena thrilled to her arrival, though. At the Ollenburgers’ home, Lena hugged her and then guided her to her chair, demanding she be seated. Slipping into the chair embroidered with roses was like coming home, and Summer closed her eyes, basking in the warmth of that feeling. When she opened her eyes, though, she saw Peter watching her with some unfathomable expression on his face.
She opened her mouth to question him, but he said in a tight voice, “I must to change out of these clothes. Excuse me, please.” Then he disappeared into his bedroom.
Now she and Peter stood side-by-side on the spindled porch of her little house. She sensed his gaze drifting toward her, and she turned to meet it, but he turned his head sharply to avoid making eye contact. Only a few porch boards separated them, yet it might as well have been a mighty chasm.
Nadine opened the little gate and walked slowly toward the porch. Thomas ran from the opposite direction, a fistful of tiny orange blossoms in his hand. He came to a stop directly below Summer and thrust the flowers toward her.
“Here, Summer! Picked you some milkweed.”
She forced a smile to her face. “Why, Thomas, thank you.” She took the limp bouquet and sniffed it. “Mm, they smell so good. I’ll put them in a little cup on the table inside.”
The boy beamed. “Butterflies like those flowers, so I figured you would, too.”
Nadine hurried the last few feet of ground to reach the porch. “Thomas, those are lovely. Are they the only wild flower growing nearby?”
He crinkled his forehead. “No, ma’am. I’ve seen some leadplant, and there’s wild indigo by the road. Do you want some flowers, too?”
“Yes. I want a cluster for each grave.” The boy turned as if to dart away, and she put her hand on his shoulder. “But I would like to gather them myself. Would you show me where they grow?”
Thomas looked at his father for approval.
The big man stroked his chin. “Frau Steadman, the ground is not always smooth. And your fine dress—dusty it will become if you go traipsing.”
“Dust brushes off,” Nadine replied, “and I prefer to choose my own bouquet. I can go myself if you’d rather the boy stayed here.”
Immediately Peter waved his large hand. “Nein, the boy need not stay behind. He will go and show you where the flowers grow. Boy, you mind Frau Steadman and stay close to her, you hear?”
“I hear, Pa.”
Nadine informed Thomas, “ I want to find some sort of receptacle with which to carry the flowers. Wait just a moment, Thomas.” She climbed the two steps leading to the porch, sending a stern look in Summer’s direction. “Summer, will you help me find something suitable?”
Summer looked at Peter. His Adam’s apple bobbed in a swallow, but he didn’t look at her. “Certainly.” She followed Nadine into the house.
The moment Summer closed the door, Nadine took hold of her upper arms. “Young woman, I don’t know what game you’re playing, but it must stop right now.”
Summer’s eyes flew wide. “G-game? I don’t understand.”
“Nor do I.” Nadine leaned close and spoke in a firm whisper. “That man out there loves you, and you’re playing cat and mouse. I don’t understand the reason.”
Heat flooded Summer’s cheeks. She flapped her jaw, but no words came out.
“For months I’ve watched you finger the letters from the little boy, and each time you mentioned the father’s name, your expression changed.”
Summer was amazed by Nadine’s observations. Had she really been so transparent?
“Do you love him?” Nadine demanded.
Summer dropped her chin, and Nadine gave her a little shake. “I said, do you love him?”
Summer gave her a brief, painful nod.
“Then why are you holding yourself aloof?”
“I … I …”
“Well? What!”
“I’m afraid.”
Nadine pulled back and lowere
d her brows. “Afraid? Of what?”
Tears filled Summer’s eyes. “Oh, Nadine, he’s hardly spoken two words to me. We used to talk so easily, Peter and I. But now … He’s different. And I don’t know why.” She swallowed, and one tear spilled down her cheek. “I’m afraid his heart has changed.”
“Nonsense.” Though the word was curt, Nadine’s tone was gentle. “He loves you—I could see it on his face at the train depot, and I saw it on his face at his house. His heart hasn’t changed—not one bit. Something is making him keep his distance, and you must find out what it is. I’ll take the boy away for a while. You talk. You work things out.”
“B-but, Nadine, if we work things out, that means—”
“Yes, that means you’ll remain here while I return alone to Boston.”
“And … and you don’t mind?”
“Of course I mind!” Nadine embraced Summer briefly. Sternly. Then she gave Summer’s shoulders a firm pat and pulled away. “But you must follow the pathway God planned for you. And I believe wholeheartedly your pathway includes Gaeddert and Peter Ollenburger.” Nadine took a step backward. “Clean your face and get back out there. I won’t go flower seeking for more than half an hour. By the time I return, I want things worked out between the two of you. Do you understand?”
Summer smiled through her tears. She pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her dress. “I understand. And thank you, Mother.”
Nadine cupped Summer’s cheek. “You are welcome, daughter. Now hurry. Love is not something to squander.”
Summer put her flowers in the kitchen, then watched through the window until Nadine and Thomas disappeared around the back of the house. When they were gone, she took a deep breath, offered a silent prayer for guidance, and stepped outside. Peter jumped at the sound of the door opening. His blue-eyed gaze swept from her head to her toes, and his expression turned grim. He spun away from her once more, his hands clamping on the porch railing. She wished those hands would hold her as tightly as they held that painted length of wood.
“Peter?”
At the single word, he turned his head, but he did not release the railing. “Ja?”
Waiting for Summer's Return Page 29
