Waiting for Summer's Return (16 page)

The sound of her name on his lips, delivered in the deep, gentle roll of thunder, touched Summer in a way she hadn’t expected. She felt tears spurt into her eyes, and she covered her face, abashed by the reaction. His large hand touched her back, guiding her to the table, where he pulled out a chair and pressed her into it. Sitting across from her, he took her wrist.

“
Frau
Steadman, you must not worry so. Thomas will be fine.”

She nodded but found she couldn’t speak. A large knot of emotion blocked her voice box. She stared at his hand, which continued to hold her wrist. Could he feel the beat of her pulse pounding faster and faster?

“I must fix the boy a gargle, but first I think we pray together,
ja
? This will make you feel better?”

His concern for her brought a fresh rush of tears. What a good man he was—a good, gentle, caring man. She raised her gaze and gave another wordless nod.

A slight smile tipped his lips, then he lowered his head, closing his eyes. The prayer, delivered in German, washed over Summer like a healing balm. Although she understood not one word, the reverence and familiarity of the tone reached deep into her soul.
I want this for myself. I want the relationship with God Mr. Ollenburger has
.

At his amen, she opened her eyes. Giving her wrist a pat, he rose. “I fix Thomas his gargle now. You … go dress.” Pink appeared on the tops of his ears. “We will not attend
Kleine Gemeinde
this morning, but I think we study together,
ja
?”

Summer pulled her coat snug across her chest, suddenly realizing she was still in her nightclothes. As she dashed to the bedroom, though, her heart tripped faster for a reason other than embarrassment. They would study together. Summer would ask him how she could form a relationship with his God.

18

T
HE PROMISED
B
IBLE
study was delayed since Mr. Ollenburger spent the morning with Thomas. The boy, cranky from his fever and sore throat, wanted his father close. So the man sat on the bed and read aloud from his Bible while the boy drowsed.
Grossmutter
sat in her chair, her familiar shawl over her shoulders and her Bible in her lap. Occasionally the old woman’s eyes slipped closed and her lips moved in silent communication. Praying, Summer assumed, and her heart caught each time. Oh, she longed to feel able to speak so freely with God!

As she sliced cabbage, potatoes, and onions for soup, Summer listened to the gentle flow of words from the bedroom, but to her frustration, she couldn’t understand what was said. If she was going to stay in Gaeddert, perhaps she should learn to speak their language.

When the soup simmered on the stove, steaming the room with pleasant aromas, Summer retrieved her own Bible. She sat at the table and opened the Bible to the last place she had studied with Mr. Ollenburger. As she reread the passages from Philippians, she discovered her repeated readings had committed several verses to memory.

She particularly liked verse thirteen of chapter four:
“I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.”
She wondered if that knowledge was what helped Mr. Ollenburger maintain his positive attitude in the face of discouragement.

The sound of a wagon intruded in her thoughts.
Grossmutter
looked up and sent Summer a look of puzzlement. Summer raised her shoulders in silent response, then rose and peered out the window. Mr. Penner and the man who had argued with Mr. Ollenburger on the road after her visit to town—Mr. Schmidt—pulled into the yard. What were they doing here?

Both men got down, stood for a moment beside the wagon in conversation, and then started toward the house.

“Mr. Ollenburger?” Summer moved to open the door. “You have visitors.”

Mr. Ollenburger appeared in the boy’s doorway as Summer opened the door to the two men. Both men froze when they found Summer waiting inside the house. Their faces wore twin frowns of displeasure.

“Hello.” Summer stepped back. “Won’t you come in?”

The men entered, removing their hats.

“To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” Mr. Ollenburger asked as he shook their hands. Although he usually used German when addressing those from town, today he spoke in English.

“Ollenburger, we need to speak with you.” Penner also used English. “But outside. Out of the hearing of …
her
.”

Mr. Ollenburger frowned. “
Frau
Steadman is guest in my home. Rude it would be to exclude her. Especially since my thought is this visit concerns her,
ja
?”

The two pursed their lips, and for a moment Summer wondered if they would leave without speaking. But then the one who had argued stepped forward, his eyes snapping.

“All right,
Herr
Ollenburger. I speak in front of … your guest.” The way he said
guest
sent a chill down Summer’s spine. “We hear that this woman now stays in your home, not in the
shariah
. We hear that she stays”—the man’s face turned red—“in your sleeping room.”

Summer’s mind raced. Who would have said these things? Thomas stepped into the doorway of his bedroom, his bare feet sticking out below the hem of his nightshirt. The boy looked frightened.
Grossmutter
pushed herself from her chair and went to stand with an arm around his shoulders.

Mr. Ollenburger spoke. “
Ja,
this is true. But I think you misunderstand. The
shariah
was toppled in the same storm that destroyed
Herr
Ratzlaff’s barn roof. So she stays here, and I stay in my barn.”

Summer was proud of the way he stood up to the men with kind yet firm responses.

Thomas shivered, and
Grossmutter
leaned down to whisper in his ear. The boy shook his head, defiance sparking in his eyes. He pulled away, crossing to stand beside his father. “We’re not doing anything wrong.”

Peter looked down at him. “Boy, return to your bed.”

“No, Pa.” Thomas glared at the two men.

Summer took hold of Thomas’s shoulders to turn him back to the bedroom, but the boy jerked free, his back stiff. “Summer—Mrs. Steadman is our friend. She’s helping me with my studies. And she studies the Bible with Pa. We’re not doing anything wrong.”

“
Junge,
return to your bed!”

Summer had never heard Mr. Ollenburger use that tone of voice. It startled her, and it was clear it startled Thomas, too. He looked up with wide eyes, then tears flooded. Without a word he turned and walked on stiff legs back to his bedroom. He slammed the door.
Grossmutter
opened the door, slipped inside, then closed it again much more softly than Thomas had.

Mr. Ollenburger turned to the men. “
Herr
Schmidt,
Herr
Penner, say what you came to say.” The man’s deep voice held no animosity.

Mr. Schmidt lifted his chin and glared at Mr. Ollenburger with narrowed eyes. “The church council asks you to send this woman from your home. If you do not follow this direction, there will be a meeting to discuss your removal from membership.”

Summer gasped. She stepped forward, holding out her hands in entreaty. “Please, gentlemen, I don’t wish to create problems for Mr. Ollenburger. I-I’ll stay in the barn.”

The two men nodded in satisfaction, but Mr. Ollenburger raised one of his hands. “Wait. Does the Bible not instruct us to love our neighbors as ourselves? How am I showing Christian love by sending this woman to a cold barn? Is it not more neighborly to give her my room, the warmth of my fire?”

“You cause your brother to stumble!” Schmidt’s eyes blazed.

“This I will consider,” Mr. Ollenburger countered. “But the needs of this woman were placed on my heart by the God I serve. I must follow His guidance, not the counsel of men.”

Mr. Penner released a snort. “You are a foolish man, Peter Ollenburger. Will you allow this woman to ruin your standing in our community?”

Mr. Ollenburger shook his head, and Summer read sadness in his expression. “More concerned I am with my standing with my Maker,
Herr
Penner. Now I ask you to leave. My boy is not feeling well, and your visit has upset him.” He reached out with his large hand. “I thank you for your concern, and I will pray for God’s guidance.”

Neither Schmidt nor Penner reached to shake Mr. Ollenburger’s hand. Instead, they slapped their hats back onto their heads and left without another word.

The moment the door closed behind them, Thomas’s door flew open and the boy cried, “I hate them, Pa! I hate them both!”

Peter’s heart felt heavy in his chest. Regret, sadness, and frustration mingled, all fighting for release. He felt the woman’s gaze follow him as he moved to the woodbox and chose two thick logs to add to the fire. When the task was done, he took a deep breath, which calmed him. Then he sat down at the table and gestured to the other chairs.

“Come here, boy. You, too,
Frau
Steadman. A talk we must have.”
Grossmutter
stood in Thomas’s bedroom doorway. With a smile, he invited her to come, too.

All three approached the table and seated themselves,
Grossmutter
between the boy and the woman. The old woman’s gnarled hands crept out, palms up, and both Thomas and
Frau
Steadman placed their hands in hers. It gave Peter a good feeling to see the three of them united in such a way. Thomas thrust his chin out in a stubborn gesture, but the woman looked more sad than angry. Peter sighed. He hoped these words would help ease the aching hearts around this table.

“Thomas, you tell me—why do we not have a dog on the property like so many others?”

The boy exchanged his sullen look for one of surprise. “Pa, you know why. I—” He glanced at the woman, then dropped his chin—“I’m scared of dogs.”

“Why?”

Pink appeared in Thomas’s cheeks. “Because one bit me when I was little.”

“
Ja,
you carry the marks on your leg where you were bit. How many dogs have bit you, boy?”

Thomas lowered his brows. “Only one.”

Peter turned the woman. “
Frau
Steadman, when you find Thomas sick in bed, why do you run to me with fear in your eyes?”

The woman looked as confused as Thomas. “Because … because I—” She closed her jaw and tears appeared in the corners of her eyes.

Peter offered gently, “Because when you looked at the boy, you did not see a sore throat, you saw typhoid?”

Silently, the woman nodded.

Peter nodded, too. “Things from before make a difference in the now. Thomas, your scar reminds you dogs can bite.
Frau
Steadman, your memory reminds you fevers can bring death. You forget that not all dogs bite and not all sickness results in death. You know this here”—he tapped his forehead—“but in your heart, when faced with a dog or a fever, you forget.”

He prayed inwardly for guidance. “It is the same way with people in town. They are not bad people, only frightened people who carry scars. Is good for Thomas to know these things as well as you,
Frau
Steadman. So please, both listen to me.”

His heart twisted as he looked into
Grossmutter
’s faded eyes and forced himself to recall unpleasant bits of his past. “For many years, our people—the Mennonites—suffer much persecution. We are peaceful people. We do not want to fight in wars. But in Germany, the rule is if you are man, you do military duty. Our people say no, God does not wish us to take up a gun and point it at another human being. The government say if you live here, you must. And it makes things hard for us.”

He shrugged. “So we go from our country. We go to Russia, where the leader says we can live and grow our wheat and not fight in their wars. For many years, this is allowed, but then things change. The Mennonites do too good with their farming, and the government becomes jealous. Soldiers come into our villages. They burn and they steal and they …” He swallowed hard, shaking his head to dispel the memories. “They make things very hard. And we know we can no longer stay.”

Peter laced his fingers together and rested his hands on the table edge. A glance at his audience found attentive serious faces on both the boy and the woman. Even
Grossmutter
seemed to absorb his words, although he knew she understood little of what he said. He went on. “By God’s grace, we are able to make it to this country—to America, land of many freedoms. Here we can worship as we please. Here we are not forced to be part of military. We make our village—our town Gaeddert—and no one comes to burn things or take things from us. We have peace. But—”

“But you can’t forget,” the woman’s quiet voice interrupted.

Peter nodded. “We cannot forget what has been before. What we have lived has left its mark as surely as the dog’s teeth left its mark on Thomas’s leg.”

Thomas tipped his head, his brow furrowed. “So the people in town aren’t really mad at Summer. They’re just scared?”

Peter cupped his son’s head with his hand. “That is right, son. They are scared of what she reminds them, and this makes them act as if angry.”

Thomas chewed his lower lip. He released a sigh. “I don’t really hate them. I was just mad at Rupert for telling his pa things he shouldn’t have and at his pa for coming here and making me feel like I was bad.”

Peter tousled the boy’s hair. “
Ach,
I know this, boy. Your heart is too pure to allow hatred to grow there. You are good boy. And you must stay that way. Hatred hardens a heart. A hard heart is a bitter thing. We must to feel sorrow for these people, for the pain they have borne, rather than hate them. Can you do this?”

Thomas’s chin quivered. “But they’re going to make Summer go away.”

“Would that be best, Mr. Ollenburger?”
Frau
Steadman spoke in a low tone.

Peter shook his head. “We cannot allow hatred and fear to have its way. You will help to show that we need not mistrust all people who are not of our heritage. God sent you here to teach us this lesson. Of that I am sure.”

The woman’s eyes filled with tears. Her face glowed with some emotion Peter could not recognize, but he knew she felt pleased by his words.

“Thank you.” Her words quavered.

“And since that is settled, my stomach rumbles. I will slice bread.
Frau
Steadman, you dish soup. We will eat,
ja
? Together. Just like always.” In his heart, Peter knew it was right. For now, it would be the four of them.