Waiting for Summer's Return
Page 30
“Are—” Her voice sounded unnaturally high. She swallowed and began again. “Are you pleased to see me?”
His brow furrowed. “Ja. I tell you at the depot how good it is to see you again.”
Despite herself, she smiled. “And then you stopped speaking to me. That doesn’t denote pleasure, Peter.”
“Denote …” He frowned. “I do not understand what you are meaning.”
“Denote. Indicate.” His expression didn’t clear. “Not speaking to me means you are displeased, not pleased.”
“But I am not displeased. Good it is to see you. It is just that—” He turned toward the graves once more.
She moved beside him and touched his hard forearm. His muscles twitched beneath her fingers. “Peter? May I ask you a question?”
Still looking away, he nodded.
Her heart began beating double time. Although she feared his answer, Nadine’s comments still rang in Summer’s ears. “Have … have you changed your mind … about loving me?”
His fingers convulsed on the wood; his whole body tensed. “How … how did you know this is what I feel?”
She allowed her grip on his arm to tighten. “I saw it in your eyes the day I left Gaeddert. Did you not see it in mine?”
A brusque nod, and still he wouldn’t look at her. “Ja. Ja, I hoped, but …”
Fear made her heart pound in her throat. “Have your feelings changed?”
He spun so fast her hand flew from his arm. In less than two seconds she was wrapped in his embrace, his arms around her back, his cheek pressed to the top of her head. His answer was clear. She wiggled her arms loose to coil them around his neck and cling, letting him feel her heartbeat against his firm chest.
He spoke gently. “My heart has not changed. It is full of love for you.”
Still nestled within his arms, she whispered, “Then why have you been so silent? So distant? I thought—”
He released her abruptly and she stumbled backward. He caught her, then cupped her cheeks and raised her face to him. “I look at you in your dress the same color as the wild flowers, and I listen to your speech which is so gezuchtet.”
She laughed softly. “What?”
He shook his head, scowling. “Gezuchtet. I mean you are much educated, and you have such fine speech. How can I measure up to you?”
“Oh, Peter.” The words came out in a regret-filled sigh. “How could you even think for one minute you don’t measure up to me? When I saw you today, standing on that walkway, in your black suit with your hair lifting in the breeze …” She ran her fingers through the thick locks the way she’d always wanted to. “You are a very appealing man, Peter Ollenburger.”
“I am a big, clumsy man.”
“Big? Yes, but clumsy? Oh no, Peter. I’ve watched you chop wood. There is a grace to the rhythm of the swinging ax. Your arms are strong, as are your convictions of right and wrong. A person can depend on you. You are a man who fixes things instead of tearing things apart. Within your chest beats a big, gentle heart.”
He shook his head, his eyes holding disbelief, and she tugged a strand of hair. “You are appealing. Most important is your love for God, Peter. It shines from you. You are everything a woman could desire in a—” She dared not say the last word.
But he must have guessed, for his eyes lit and he whispered in a low rumble, “In a husband, Summer? Am I desired as a husband?”
His dear face became blurred with the rush of tears that filled her eyes. “Yes, as a husband. As my husband.”
“Ah, Summer … Always summer has been my favorite season.” He pulled her to his chest again, although not in a rush as before. The movements were slow and graceful, as if orchestrated from the beginning of time. He held her there with her cheek pressed to his rough shirt, his heartbeat thrumming beneath her ear. She closed her eyes, drinking in the scent and sound and feel of the man she loved. “How happy you have made me,” he murmured against her hair.
“How happy God has made us,” she whispered in return, and she felt his nod.
They stood together, eyes closed, while the evening sounds and smells of the prairie filled their senses. Summer could have remained in Peter’s arms forever—held in just that way—but voices intruded. Nadine and Thomas were returning. Peter released his hold by inches, his hands sliding along her spine and across her waist, catching her hands for a moment, then finally letting go and stepping back just as Thomas bounced onto the porch.
“Look at all the flowers we picked, Summer!” He pointed over his shoulder to Nadine, whose arms overflowed with a variety of wild flowers in yellow, purple, pink, and white.
Summer took a step toward Nadine. “Oh, they’re beautiful.”
Nadine looked at Summer’s face and then at Peter. A knowing smile climbed her cheeks. “Yes, they are. Which will you choose for your bridal bouquet?”
Summer covered her cheeks with her hands. “Nadine!”
But her mother-in-law merely laughed. “Am I right? Will there be a wedding?”
“A wedding?” Thomas looked from Peter to Summer, his blue eyes wide. “Really, Pa? Summer, you’ll be my ma?”
Summer looked at Peter, whose ears glowed nearly as pink as the spiderwort in Nadine’s arms. A sheepish grin tugged at his lips, and he shrugged.
“It is all right with me if it is all right with Summer.”
Summer burst out laughing. “Peter Ollenburger, that will not do as a marriage proposal.”
He ducked his head and stroked his beard for a moment. When he looked up, the expression in his eyes took Summer’s breath away. He moved toward her with deliberate steps. He stopped in front of her and held out his hands. She placed her hands in his work-worn palms and felt his strong fingers close around hers. Their eyes locked, he slowly bent down on one knee.
“Summer Steadman,” came his voice of distant thunder, so tender Summer’s heart ached with the beauty of the moment, “the God we serve has brought us together. He has opened my heart to loving you with a love that endures. You would do me much honor if you would agree to become my wife.”
Warm tears ran down Summer’s cheeks. She could not find her voice, but she gave an eager nod and allowed her smile to speak for her.
He rose, lifting her off her feet in a hug. She clung, laughing against his neck.
Thomas’s feet pounded against the porch floor as he ran to the edge and leaped onto the ground. “Pa and Summer are getting married!” he sang as he danced across the yard.
From the corner of her eye, Summer saw Nadine slip into the house, but not before her mother-in-law sent a smile filled with approval.
As Peter set her back on her feet, Summer looked out across the yard, across the graves, to the Kansas sunset that streaked the sky with brilliant colors. She sighed, completely content.
The arm at her waist tightened. “You are happy, my Summer?”
She smiled into Peter’s dear face and reached up to stroke his beard once. “I am more than happy. My joy overflows.”
Peter leaned down until his face was mere inches from hers. “Ich liebe dich, Summer Steadman.”
She needed no translation. “And I love you.” She raised onto tiptoes, closing the distance needed for their lips to meet in a kiss moist with happy tears.
And Thomas crowed, “Woohoo!”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
There are many who contributed to the completion of this story. Thank you to each of the following:
Mom and Daddy, Don, Kristian, Kaitlyn, and Kamryn, my wonderful family, whose support is something on which I can always count. You are my biggest blessings. I love you muchly!
Jill, Beverly, Eileen, Margie, Darlene, Staci, Ramona, and Crystal, my fabulous critique partners, who offer advice and encouragement and prayers. You are the best!
Kathy, Ernie, Ginny, Rose, and Carla, the “prayer warriors” who lift my writing ministry before the Father. There is no way to measure the gift of steadfast prayer support. May God bless you as richly as you
have blessed me.
Lois Hiebert at the Tabor College Library, who pointed me to the information I needed to bring the setting of Gaeddert to life in my imagination. You are appreciated.
Charlene and the staff at Bethany House—thank you for making this experience so wonderfully pleasant. (I still feel the need to pinch myself occasionally to make sure I’m not dreaming!)
Finally, and most importantly, thanks be to God, who planted the seed of desire in a little girl’s heart, who watered the seed and brought it to fruit. In your Word you promise that He who began a good work will be faithful to complete it. Thank you for keeping your promises. May any praise or glory be reflected directly back to you.
KIM VOGEL SAWYER is a wife, mother, grandmother, former elementary schoolteacher, and child of God. A nearly lifelong Kansas resident, she is fond of C words like cats, children, and chocolate. She is active in her church, where she teaches adult Sunday school and is a member of both the voice and bell choirs. She relishes time with family and friends, and in her spare time she enjoys quilting, calligraphy, and participating in theater.
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Table of Contents
Cover Page
Title Page
Copyright Page
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Acknowledgments