Waiting for Summer's Return (2 page)

2

A
CH, WHAT DID I SAY?
” Peter threw his hat aside and leaned over the crumpled frame of the woman. She had gone down so quickly, there had not been time to react. But he could not leave her lying there like a tossed-aside sack for grain. He scooped her into his arms—“As weightless as a feather tick she is!” he declared—and carried her to the bed. He rested her gently on the mattress, and she lay there just as he’d placed her, as if lifeless.

“Bernard, go and get Dr. Wiebe. I will stay with
Frau
Steadman.”

Bernard disappeared, leaving the door open. Peter spotted a pitcher and bowl on the dresser. He splashed water into the bowl, took a clean handkerchief from his pocket, and soaked it in the water. The handkerchief dripped on the floor as he crossed to the bed. Keeping as much distance between the bed and himself as he could, he leaned forward and laid the rough wadded square of dripping cloth across the woman’s forehead.

Neither a movement nor a sound did she make.

Peter willed,
Hast, Doktor. Bitte hast
.

He examined the woman’s face. So pale and thin, with hollows in her cheeks. His arms still felt warm from the slight weight of her body—such a small burden she had been. He shook his head, pity twisting his heart. Surely it was not his words that had sent her into a faint. Had she eaten at all since the last of her family was put beneath the ground?

He remembered the first numb days following Elsa’s death. His desire for food had fled him, too. Only knowing Thomas and
Grossmutter
depended on him had made him force food into a belly that resisted it. This woman had no one depending on her, no one to entice her to eat. She was in a poor state, for sure.

“Heavenly Father, touch the heart of
Frau
Steadman and help it beat again. Take away her sorrow and give her joy,” Peter prayed aloud into the quiet room. “Let her grow strong, and let her find her way home.” His prayer was interrupted by the sound of feet on the hall floor. He went to the door and peered out, his chest filling with relief when he spotted the doctor on Bernard’s heels.

“She has not yet wakened.” Peter watched from the doorway as Dr. Wiebe opened his black bag and withdrew a small vial. The doctor popped the cork on the vial and swept it back and forth below the woman’s nose. At the second sweep, the woman suddenly coughed and twisted her face away, struggling to sit up. The doctor corked the vial and dropped it back into his bag then placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder.

“There now,
Frau
Steadman. Lie still for a little while yet.” The doctor’s calm voice soothed Peter, but from the woman’s stiff pose he did not believe she was soothed. The doctor glanced briefly at Bernard. “Bernard, could you bring
Frau
Steadman a glass of water, please?” Bernard rushed out once more, and Dr. Wiebe turned back to
Frau
Steadman.

“W-what happened?” The woman’s voice sounded hoarse.

Peter stepped forward. “I am sorry if I frightened you.” He peered over the doctor’s black-suited shoulder at her white face. Her brown eyes appeared almost black against the alarming pallor of her skin. “I am a bear of a man, for sure.”

The woman’s brow furrowed. “Who are you?”

“Peter Ollenburger. I—”

The doctor held up his hand, stopping any more words. “
Frau
Steadman, I want you to rest. After you have had some water”—Bernard entered, as if on cue, and handed the glass of water to the doctor—“I want you to eat some bread and broth. I will bring it myself.”

The woman shifted on the bed until her back rested against the headboard. She took the glass with both hands, but at the mention of broth and bread, she grimaced. “Please … I am not hungry.”

“There is no choice being offered.” The doctor’s tone turned stern. “Whether you are hungry or not, you must eat. Your strength must be kept up.”

“For what purpose?”

Her bitter words seemed to take Bernard and the doctor by surprise, but Peter understood. He answered,
“Zeit fürs weinen und zeit fürs lachen …”

The woman stared at him as if he had suddenly sprouted purple ears and a tail. He thumped his head with his hand. “
Ach,
my foolish mouth. I choose words from the Good Book—Ecclesiastes, the third chapter. There is a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance.” He stepped closer. “You must eat to gain strength for the day when your heart will once more laugh and dance.”

“I’ve no reason to laugh or dance.”

Peter understood this, too. Just east of town were her reasons buried.

The doctor rose. “I will be back soon with soup and bread. You must eat.” His tone let the woman know he wouldn’t accept a refusal.

She closed her eyes and rolled to her side, facing away from them. Dr. Wiebe motioned to Peter and Bernard to step into the hall. Peter retrieved his hat from the threshold and closed the door behind him. Once in the hallway, the doctor spoke earnestly. “I am concerned. She appears very weak. Although she has no fever, which tells me she has not contracted the typhoid fever that killed her family, she has no one here. I am going to speak to Reverend Enns. Perhaps he can find a family that will take her in and see to her needs. If she does not begin eating, she will end up buried with the rest of her family.”

Bernard’s eyes became huge behind his spectacles. “Typhoid fever? That is what took her family?”

The doctor nodded, then pointed his finger at Bernard. “You say nothing. I have taken every precaution. Before I brought her to the hotel, I insisted she bathe while I boiled all of her clothing. Her family is buried, along with their clothing. After I settled her here, I sent some men out to burn her belongings. There is no threat of danger from this woman—I would not have brought her here otherwise. But some would not believe it. If people are fearful, no one will take her in.”

Bernard looked at Peter. “Peter, tell the doctor what you were thinking.”

Peter felt heat climbing the back of his neck again. The doctor looked up at him, his expression expectant. Peter cleared his throat. “Well, you see, my boy needs help in his studies. I thought to ask the woman if she would help the boy in exchange for a room and food.” The heat spread to his ears. “The room would be in my
shariah
. Bernard thought of that.”

Bernard nodded, as if pleased to be included.

“I was thinking of a place with a family—with a woman who would cook the meals and see that she ate.” The doctor sucked in his lips for a moment. “But it might be good for her to be with someone who relies on her a little more than she relies on them.”

Peter gave an eager nod. “
Ja
. Both Thomas and
Grossmutter
could benefit from this woman’s presence.”

Dr. Wiebe smiled. “I think it is a good idea, Peter. What did she say?”

He shrugged. “When I started to ask, down she went—
floomp!
—right on the floor.” He shook his head. “I thought at first I frightened her. But maybe it was only her empty belly.”

The doctor opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak the doorknob turned and the door opened. The woman stood framed in the doorway. She held on to the wooden door as if for support. Her gaze swept past the doctor and Bernard to settle on Peter.

“Mr. Ollenburger, I would like to speak with you, please.”

Summer focused on the big man who stood between the doctor and the clerk. He had called himself a “bear of a man,” and the description was apt. Peter Ollenburger dwarfed the other two in both height and breadth. His full beard and shaggy hair added to his bearlike appearance, but as she remembered his gentle blue eyes peering down at her from over the doctor’s shoulder, she instinctively knew she need not fear him.

He swallowed, twisting his hat in his massive hands. “
Ja,
we can talk, for sure. But would you sit back down? You do not look
wachlig
.” Then he grimaced and corrected himself. “Steady. You do not look steady.”

Summer squared her shoulders, pushing herself to her full height. “I assure you I am fine.” Her knees felt weak. Bracing herself on the doorjamb, she continued. “When I first opened the door to you, you said something … something about … your home?” She despised the quaver that had crept into her voice. “Are you in need of a maid or a cook?”

Mr. Ollenburger’s heavy brows came down. “
Frau
Steadman, you are making me feel nervous.
Bitte,
you sit on the bed there, and we can talk.”

The doctor took her elbow. “
Ja,
that is a good idea.” He guided her back into the room, seating her on the edge of the bed in a gentlemanly manner.

Summer had to admit she felt more secure sitting down, yet resentment welled in her chest at their concern. Where were these concerned people when her family was dying one by one and she was forced to stand helplessly by and watch them slip away? With determination, she pushed the thought aside and raised her gaze to Mr. Ollenburger.

“All right. I’m sitting. Mr. Ollenburger, would you please tell me why you came?”

The man nodded, a thick shock of wheat-colored hair falling across his forehead. He pushed back the strands with his large fingers. “
Ja
. I thought to ask if you would help me.” His huge boot lifted and he stepped forward, narrowing the gap between them.

Summer had to tip her head back to look into his eyes. She noticed his ears appeared pink, which further convinced her of his harmlessness.

“My boy—he is named Thomas—he had an accident and broke ribs. He has been home healing and has missed much of school. The doctor says he must not ride a horse for many weeks yet, so no school for Thomas until January or February. Yet his lessons he needs. I cannot help him. But Reverend Enns thought …” He paused, turning the hat into a wad of plaid fabric. “You … you are a learned woman?”

Summer nearly burst out laughing. Learned? Her education was the best Boston could offer a woman. She swallowed hard. It wouldn’t do to laugh. He wouldn’t understand her amusement. Giving a nod, she responded, “Yes, Mr. Ollenburger, I am a learned woman.”

“Then you are able to help my Thomas with his schooling?” Hope was evident in his tone.

She nodded.

A smile broke across his face. “
Ja,
this is good.
Danke schoen, Frau
Steadman.”

“Wait, Mr. Ollenburger. I didn’t say I would do it, simply that I am capable of doing it.”

His brow crinkled. “Does this mean you will not help my boy?”

Summer sighed and looked at the other two men, who stood stupidly to the side and listened without offering assistance. Turning back to Peter Ollenburger, she tried to explain. “Mr. Ollenburger, before I make a commitment such as you’ve requested, I need to know what salary you are offering.”

Mr. Ollenburger turned his shaggy head to look at the others. The desk clerk raised his hand and rubbed his thumb against the tips of his fingers. Light dawned across Mr. Ollenburger’s face.

“
Ach,
of course, I need to tell you about … salary.” He squared his shoulders. “I am not a man of wealth,
Frau
Steadman. Money I cannot offer. But I offer you a place to stay—your own
shariah
—and meals while you work with my boy.” He looked so gallant as he gave his meager proposal that Summer didn’t have the heart to immediately refuse.

She lowered her focus, considering this proposition. She needed money more than meals and a roof. Although, she realized, if she had meals and a roof she would not have to spend any of her remaining cash. So if she wasn’t adding to her cash supply, at least she wouldn’t be depleting it. Tutoring his son was certainly preferable to cooking or cleaning. Her own
shariah,
he had said. She assumed this was a word for “house” in his language. She realized all three men were waiting for her to reply.

“Is your wife unable to assist your son in his studies?”

Sadness appeared in the big man’s eyes. “My wife—my Elsa—she has been gone now for six years.”

Summer felt a brief stab of pain for his loss. The passing of years had apparently not removed all of the sorrow from his heart. But at least he had his boy. Grief welled up and she quickly squelched it. She forced her brain to think …
think
…. If he was a widower, there were rules of decorum that must be considered. Looking at this big, simple man, she was certain he wouldn’t comprehend those rules.

“I am sorry, Mr. Ollenburger, but your position as a widower gives a new slant to this situation.” She took a deep breath, organizing her thoughts. “You offered a …
shariah
. No one would question the propriety of my living there?”

Again, the man sought the opinion of his friends with a look of helplessness.

The desk clerk answered. “This
shariah
is on the edge of Peter’s property. A good walk separates it from his place.”

The doctor also contributed. “At his home also lives
Frau
Suderman, who is Thomas’s great-grandmother. A chaperone she can provide.” He glanced at Peter before adding, “This is a small town, so there will be some talk, but Peter has a good reputation here. The talk will not last long.”

Summer nodded to acknowledge the men’s words before turning back to Mr. Ollenburger. “And when your son is caught up with studies, will I be forced to leave this—this
shariah
?”

Mr. Ollenburger gave an emphatic shake of his head. “You would be welcome to stay for as long as you need to. But if you change your mind and want to come back to the hotel, I will bring you.”

“Thank you. Will you allow me a few minutes to consider your offer?”

The big man ushered the other two out of the room and closed the door behind them. She heard the muffled sounds of their voices as they visited in the hallway, but she was unable to make out their words because they spoke in another language. German, she assumed. But she suspected they were discussing her, just as they must have been doing before she opened the door. It made her uneasy to be the topic of discussion, and she especially disliked not understanding what was being said.