Waiting for Summer's Return Read Online Free PDF Page A

forward. He cleared his throat. “ Ja, well, tonight you must make a pallet on the floor—there are many blankets here.” He moved to a trunk in the corner, ducking to avoid hitting his head on the slanting ceiling. When he raised the lid, Summer saw a stack of thick woven blankets. He looked at her, an apology in his eyes. “It is not much….”
    He was right. It certainly was not much. But what else did she have to look forward to? She forced a light tone. “Remember, Mr. Ollenburger, I have spent many weeks in a wagon or a tent pitched outside. It is a treat to have a roof over my head again.”
    Her words must have been convincing, because his face relaxed into a smile. He moved to the center of the room, straightening his back and looking upward. “ Ja, it is a roof. It is no masterpiece of carpentry, but it will shelter you.”
    She let her gaze drift around the small space. “When these boxes have been removed and my own belongings have been brought in, it will feel more like a home. I’ll be fine.”
    His brows came down into a worried scowl. He fiddled with his hat, his ears glowing bright pink. Something was clearly wrong. Just as she opened her mouth to question him, Thomas entered through the tunnel, a paper-wrapped package in his hands. He offered the package to Summer with a shy smile.
    “Here is your sandwich, Mrs. Steadman. Strawberry jam on wheat bread. Pa bought the bread from the restaurant in Gaeddert. If it was bread Pa made, you wouldn’t be able to eat it.”
    Peter gave his son a playful cuff on the back of his head, chuckling. “ Ja, the boy is right, for sure. My baking is not so good, but you see we have not starved.” He clamped a hand on Thomas’s shoulder. “Remember, son, this is now Frau Steadman’s home. You must knock before you come in next time.”
    The boy nodded, sending Summer a sheepish look. “I’ll remember.”
    Peter strode to the door. “I will take out a few of these boxes to give you moving around room. The rest can wait until morning light. Thomas and I will leave you to your sandwich and bed.” He picked up the nearest box and stepped through the tunnel with it, Thomas on his heels.
    Summer sank down on a short barrel, placed the packet of bread with jam in her lap, and looked once more at the dismal little dwelling that was her new home.
    It would be bearable if only I weren’t alone. Why did they all have to die?
    Peter leaned over and placed a kiss on Thomas’s tousled hair. “Guten nacht. Schlop die ’zunt, son. ”
    “You sleep well, too, Pa.” The boy pulled the covers to his chin.
    Peter left the door ajar so he could hear his son’s breathing. He crossed to the wooden table in the middle of the main room and sat down. Grasping the heel of his right boot, he worked the boot free, dropped it with a muffled thud against the braided rug beneath the table, then freed his left foot and dropped that boot with its mate. He wiggled his toes and leaned back in his chair, releasing a long sigh.
    The rough tabletop had been cleared of dishes but still wore a spattering of crumbs. Peter swept his hand across the surface, sending the crumbs to the floor. He looked toward the dry sink and spotted two tin plates and a mug—not enough to require a trip to the well for dishwater. It could wait until morning. There had been a time when crumbs on the table and dishes in the sink would not have been acceptable, but with Grossmutter ’s advancing arthritis stealing her ability to do simple chores, the house sometimes reflected a lack of care. Peter did not much like this, but he did not have the time to do all the household chores as well as the outdoor duties. He hoped the woman would not find their crumbs offensive.
    A light snuffling sounded from Thomas’s room, followed by the deeper, more rumbling noise of the old woman’s snore. Peter smiled. The one time he had told Grossmutter she snored, her expression of indignation had convinced him he had better not