Beneath the Summer Sun Read online

  “That’s a good idea. We’ll have a table at the next market days too. You and Celia can run it.” The children didn’t need to concern themselves with money. Most everything they needed could be grown on the farm. Almost everything. Jennie flipped up the lever to release the material and picked up the scissors to snip the thread. “Did you get the eggs from the chicken coop?”

  “Jah and Celia milked the cow. We can have egg taco casserole for supper and drink the milk.”

  “Sounds good. Grab a jar of peaches from the basement and I’ll make a pie for tomorrow. I have biscuits in the oven for tonight.”

  They would never starve as long as they could grow their own food. The canned goods in the basement occupied an entire wall of shelves. Flour and baking soda were relatively cheap. Cynthia’s response was lost in the sound of a familiar, cranky engine revving outside the open windows. Jennie stood and peeked out.

  Nathan.

  The waves in Jennie’s stomach heaved and lurched, back and forth.

  She hadn’t seen him since the day on the side of the road with Leo’s lame horse. He had looked so concerned, so afraid he’d caused her harm. That look could lull a woman into thinking a man could be kind, even gentle.

  No. She’d been fooled before.

  He’d also looked perturbed when she drove off with Leo. Nathan didn’t like it, her giving Leo a ride. He didn’t have any business liking or not liking what Jennie did with Leo—or anyone, for that matter.

  Why did he care? Was that the doo-doo he’d mentioned that day before tromping off to talk with Freeman and stare at her from a distance?

  “Is that Nathan? Yippee, it’s Nathan.” Cynthia cast aside one of Elizabeth’s dresses and raced to the door. “I wonder what books he brought today.” Shoulders hunched, she halted at the door and looked back. “I know. We can’t buy books, but he can stay for supper, can’t he?”

  Jennie forced a smile. Of all her children Cynthia loved to read the most. She’d plowed through the entire Little House series during the long, cold winter months. A copy of Sarah, Plain and Tall lay on the table, a bookmark stuck at the halfway point. She read even when the great outdoors called to the other children. “Maybe next time.”

  “It’s okay. That’s the nice thing about the library. We can get all the books we want for free.” Grinning, Cynthia jerked the door open. “And Nathan doesn’t mind. He says he wants us to read because reading opens our minds up to the world and new thoughts and ideas. He just comes here for the pie and the company. That’s what he says.”

  Not necessarily what a Plain parent wanted—the new thoughts and ideas of a fallen world. But Nathan wasn’t Plain. The van and his choice of occupation told that story. A clomp, clomp told Jennie when he started up the steps, then strode across the porch. A second later, his rat-a-tat-tat knock announced his arrival at the door. “Hey, Cynthia, how are you, girl?” He peered through the dark netting of the screen, his face a shadowy gray on the other side. “Long time no see.”

  “What do you have today?” Cynthia held the door open wide. “Mudder says we can’t afford to buy books right now, but you can stay for supper. Can you stay? I’ll get the Life on the Farm out, or would you rather play Scum?”

  Embarrassment coursed through Jennie like a terrible fever. Cynthia didn’t need to be so free with information about their financial situation. Her expression blithe, Cynthia let the screen door slam, then turned and skipped to the kitchen and the basement door before Nathan could answer.

  Jennie teetered heel to toe, trying to get her balance. “Sorry, she’s so rambunctious. You don’t have to feel obligated to play games or stay for supper. I’m happy to look at the books. Do you have anything on sale today?”

  “And don’t you feel obligated to look or to buy.”

  “I don’t.”

  His face reddened until it was the color of the shirt he wore today with his khaki pants and dusty red sneakers. His Cardinals cap had been replaced with a John Deere one. Surely a gift from one of his customers. The man had never been on a tractor in his life. He busied himself with the backpack full of his wares, children’s books of all kinds, all suitable for Plain children. He made sure of that. Nice, good-quality books that would hold up under many readings and the chunky hands of children who hadn’t learned yet to treat books with that special care they should always receive. “I know books can be seen as a luxury when you’re trying to put food on the table.”

  “Is that the sales pitch you usually use?” The snippiness in her tone shamed Jennie. She fought to soften it. It wasn’t Nathan’s fault she was embarrassed. “Books are a good thing for kinner. It’s just that they spend more time outside playing and doing chores than inside reading in the summer.”

  True, but not why she couldn’t buy.

  “You don’t want them to lose the reading ability they gained during the school year over the summer, but I know what you’re saying. I generally have fewer sales in the summer for that very reason.” He laid out a series of books she hadn’t seen before. A family crossing the country in a covered wagon in early America. “But that’s okay. That’s why I’m . . .” He stopped, a guilty look on his face.

  “Is something wrong?”

  He shook his head. “I like playing games with the kids.”

  She picked up one of the books, then laid it down. “You must have other families to visit.”

  “I like your cooking better.”

  The heat that roared across her face told her its color surely matched his. “Not tonight, you won’t. It’s egg taco casserole.” A recipe she’d made up when she had no meat. “But the biscuits will be hot.”

  The smell of something burning hit her nose. “Oh no. The biscuits!”

  She ran to the kitchen. Celia bent over the oven and pulled out the pan. She sniffed and turned. “I smelled them out back.” She wrinkled her nose. “They’re only a little singed. If we eat them with butter and strawberry preserves, we won’t even notice.”

  Celia was Jennie’s optimistic child, the one who could find the silver lining in the darkest of clouds. Jennie patted her back. “I’m so glad you caught them in time. Can you help Cynthia get a jar of strawberry preserves from the basement? And a jar of hot sauce for the casserole. Green beans too. She can’t carry it all, with the peaches.”

  Hot sauce made the eggs seem less plain.

  Celia planted a kiss on Jennie’s cheek. She was also the most affectionate of the children. She looked like her father, but had none of his volatility. She was a beautiful girl with dark hair, fair skin, and enormous blue eyes. Her slim figure would make her popular at the singings in a few years. Not something to which Jennie looked forward. “The blueberries are blooming. Everything is early this year. And the purple martins are building their nests already. I saw eggs in one of them.”

  “Wunderbarr.” Jennie turned to glance back, following her daughter’s gaze. “Nathan has come by.”

  Nathan nodded a greeting. “Why don’t I fix that step out front before someone trips over the loose board?”

  Jennie couldn’t put him to work when she wasn’t even planning to buy his wares. It wasn’t right. “Matthew will do that when he gets back from working at Peter’s.”

  “He’ll be worn to a frazzle after cutting hay all day in the sun.” Nathan offered her a smile that turned his rather plain face into one Jennie might see when she closed her eyes at night. “I’ll have it done in a jiffy.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. I’m earning my supper. Consider it a fair trade.”

  If she were serving pork chops or brisket, maybe. But eggs for supper? She watched him go, a grin on his face that said he didn’t plan to take no for an answer.

  Much pounding and talking ensued, the chatter from Cynthia, Elizabeth, and Mark floating through open windows while Jennie threw together the casserole ingredients and popped it into the oven. She opened the jar of green beans to stretch the meal. The children wouldn’t complain about the plain f
are. Neither would her company. Their company. He wasn’t there to see her. He liked the children.

  Jennie knew Francis watched every move Nathan made, not because he spoke but because Cynthia kept telling him to move back. It became apparent some screens were also being fixed as well as a chair that had collapsed under the weight of three children who decided to sit in it together one evening in a fit of giggles. All this work gave her time to fix supper. It wasn’t much, but it would do.

  The meal was a lively affair with the children—all except Matthew of course—interrupting each other to talk to their guest. Nathan attempted to draw out her oldest son with questions about his day. Matthew grudgingly unbent enough to describe the horse that broke loose from the tedder and sent them scurrying after him midday. Nathan listened and nodded and asked questions in all the right places. Despite Nathan’s encouragement, Matthew lapsed back into silence.

  Nathan watched him with a puzzled look on his face, then smiled at Jennie. “This was good grub.” He pushed back his chair and patted his belly. “You do know how to gussy up eggs. And that salsa wakes up a fella’s tongue.”

  “It’s just casserole.” She scraped the last of it onto Micah’s plate. He was a growing boy who had worked hard alongside Matthew and Peter’s boys from sunrise to supper. “No need to fuss.”

  “You could learn to take a compliment.” Nathan attempted to hide a burp behind one big hand covered by fine orangey-red hair. The sound made Elizabeth giggle. Which of course made Francis giggle too. Mark followed with a loud belch. Nathan chuckled. “That’s compliments to the chef, I always say. I like your cooking. I like a lot of things about you.”

  He stopped, his ears as red as his face. “What I mean to say is I like a lot of things you cook.”

  The children tittered. Matthew arose and stomped from the room.

  “Celia, Cynthia, get started in the kitchen.” Jennie rose. Her hand smacked against her water glass, tipping it over. Water soaked the tablecloth and ran onto the floor. “I’m so clumsy.”

  Celia sopped up the table with her apron. “You’re worse than Elizabeth, Mudder.”

  Getting scolded by her oldest daughter in front of Nathan didn’t help in the least. “I can clean up after myself. You get the dishes. Micah, Mark, go help your bruder with the chores before it gets dark.”

  “I guess I should be going too.” Nathan picked up his hat. “Y’all will want to turn in soon.”

  “Nee, we still have to play Life on the Farm.” Cynthia balanced a stack of dirty plates in one hand and the casserole dish in the other. “Right, Mudder, we can play a game? It’s early yet.”

  “I want to play Life on the Farm.” Elizabeth chimed in as she grabbed the empty biscuit basket and trundled toward the kitchen. “Don’t make him go, Mudder.”

  “Don’t make him go.” Like she was being inhospitable. “I have sewing to do, but if you want to stay, stay.”

  The emotions that flitted across his face were indecipherable. He scooted back his chair. “Bring it on, Elizabeth. Life on the Farm it is.” His tone made it a challenge. “Your mudder doesn’t want to play games, but I do.”

  She liked to play games, but not the kind Nathan had in mind. Jennie grabbed the empty casserole dish from Cynthia and strode into the kitchen. Matthew stood at the kitchen screen door, his hands on his hips, staring outside.

  “Go do your chores so you can come in and play Life on the Farm. They’re getting it out now.”

  “I have other things to do besides play stupid little kinner games.”

  “You used to like to play games.”

  “I’m too old for games.” Matthew’s tone grew uglier, his voice louder. He sounded like Atlee. “Besides, someone has to do the work around here.”

  “You know better than to speak to your elders that way.”

  He swiveled and stared at her. “What’ll you do about it?”

  “I shouldn’t have to do anything. You know better. I’ve raised you better.”

  “Like Groossdaadi raised Daed?”

  “You’re not like your daed.”

  “Try me and see.” He surged through the door and slammed it so hard the pots on the counter rattled.

  Exactly like his father.

  Dufus. Nathan was a big dufus. He had the opportunity to tell Jennie and he hadn’t. This was his last visit as a salesman. His two weeks’ notice would be up and he could start his new vocation as a farmhand. If someone would hire him.

  A mighty big if.

  There were many ifs in his life these days. Walk by faith, not by sight. That would be his father’s advice. His father made it look easy, but it wasn’t. Not at all.

  Nathan took the box covered with black-and-white cows and the big red letters that read Life on the Farm from Elizabeth. She settled Indigo onto the table, climbed up on the bench next to Nathan, and tugged the lid from the box. “I want the red pawn.” He need only look at Elizabeth to know what her mother had looked like as a child, with her fair skin and blue eyes. “Red is my favorite color. Celia says it’s too bright for Plain girls. I like bright. That’s why Rufus wears a red bandana.”

  She pointed her plump finger at the dog, who curled up in a ball next to her chair. Elizabeth never lacked for company.

  “I like red too, but lighter colors are nice.” He knew what Celia was trying to teach her little sister. Plain boys and girls didn’t want to stand out. They wanted to keep themselves apart from the world. He’d heard that speech from Freeman when he dropped by the bishop’s house to tell him he’d given his two weeks’ notice. Freeman didn’t mince words. The possibility that Nathan would be able to give up all the trappings of the world and stick to it seemed small to the bishop. But that didn’t mean Nathan couldn’t take the lessons with Freeman and contemplate a future different from the one he saw in front of himself at this moment. “Rufus could wear a black bandana and he’d still look handsome.”

  Elizabeth frowned. “Black is your favorite color?”

  “Blue is my favorite color,” Nathan hastened to add. “Like the color of your mother’s eyes. And your eyes too.”

  The slightest pause in the thump, thump of the treadle told him Jennie was listening. He hid a smile. The woman needed to learn to take a compliment. She needed to relax. She wasn’t clumsy, either. Just a little nervous. He’d like to think it was because of him. She might have a tiny sliver of feeling for him that made her hands tremble. A start toward something more, with time.

  Celia counted out the ten thousand dollars and handed them to Nathan, along with the white pawn. “I feel like I might win tonight. I feel lucky.”

  “We don’t believe in luck.” Mark shook the die. “I go first. Me first.”

  “I feel like retiring so I want to win. Just watch. I’ll get my sixty cattle in no time.” Nathan glanced at the back of Jennie’s head. She bent over the sewing machine as if her eyes were going in the dusky evening light. “In fact, I’ve given my two weeks’ notice. No more selling books for me.”

  “No more books!” Celia and Cynthia spoke in unison. They sounded disappointed. He understood that. He loved books. That’s why he chose selling them as his job. If he had to sell something, he wanted it to be something he believed in.

  The thump, thump stopped. Jennie’s head came up, but she didn’t turn around.

  He waited.

  Turn around, turn around, look at me. Please look at me.

  The thump, thump began again.

  He’d taken the easy way out. Telling her by telling the children. Instead of to her face. Lord, forgive me for being such a coward. I’ve never done this before.

  He sometimes wondered why he hadn’t found the right woman after all these years. Never even came close. A date here and there, but it always fizzled before becoming something real and warm and tangible. Books were easier. Losing himself in the pages was easier. Until now. Now it had to be this woman whose face he saw when he closed his eyes at night. This woman who could never be his unless she wa
nted a different life or he chose her life.

  Freeman had made it clear there was little likelihood of either.

  “What will you do?” Celia broached the question he’d hoped to hear from her mother. “How will you make a living?”

  “Will we ever see you again?” Cynthia tugged on his shirtsleeve. “Where will you live?”

  He rolled the die and moved his pawn, landing on the space COW AUCTION. He bought ten cattle at five hundred a piece. Half his cash, but a herd was an investment. The first person to get sixty head of cattle won. He had a head start. Stop beating around the bush. “I’m starting a new career as a farmhand. At least that’s the plan if someone will hire me.” He counted his money, once, twice. Better hope he landed on the COLLECT MILK CHECK next. “I’m looking around for a little duplex or a house to rent. I have some money set aside for a rainy day.”

  The thump, thump continued.

  The heat of the propane lamp made him sweat. He longed for a cool drink of water. “I’m thirsty. I’ll bring out the pitcher.”

  “You’re company. Let me get it.” Jennie pushed away from the sewing machine. Definitely listening to every word. “I might as well make the popcorn. You know you’ll want some before the game is over.”

  It didn’t matter how much they ate for supper. They always had popcorn soaked in butter and sprinkled with salt during the game. Which led to more water.

  He waited until she disappeared into the kitchen, then coughed. “I better get that water. I have a frog in my throat.”