Sweet Summer

By Ann Maxine Nivens

As Aura continued to dance in the moonlight, Patrick leaned against the doorway and pondered the mood of the night. He was six and felt very big indeed. He wondered if he was old enough to have a sweetheart.

Pappy, am I old enough to court?

Not quite, son! Why?

Well, sir, I think that girl is going to be my sweetheart!

So begins the lifelong love between Aura Blake and Patrick Garner. Soon afterward, Aura finds herself orphaned at age six, and she and Pat are separated for much of their childhood as Aura endures bitter mistreatment and isolation at the hands of extended family members.

When God, in His providence, brings Aura into kinder surroundings and the two childhood sweethearts back in touch, their little spark from long ago blazes into an epic love.

This love story, inspired by the authors own parents, follows Aura in her fight for survival, anchored by her deep faith in God, and Pat in his quest to find himself and God, as he wrestles with the impact of his failing health on his passionate adventures in the great outdoors.

Together, Patrick and Aura face unspeakable tragedies that would destroy most loves and lives. Yet in the end, both find their place in the world as their love proves unquenchable and their faith unshakable.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Nov 1, 2013
• ISBN: 9781490812113

Ann Maxine Nivens

Ann Nivens attended Tennessee Technological University and University of Tennessee. A professional interpreter of the deaf, she has done extensive historical research, culminating in this, her first novel. She has authored a children’s illustrated book as well as numerous poems. Ann was born and reared in rural middle Tennessee. Being married to a pastor and minister afforded her many opportunities for worldwide travel. Mother of six children, Ann knew from an early age she wanted to be a writer. She currently resides close to her roots.

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Copyright © 2013 Ann Maxine Nivens.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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ISBN: 978-1-4908-1210-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-1209-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-1211-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2013918418

WestBow Press rev. date: 10/31/2013

Contents

Acknowledgements

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

Dedicated to my mother and father,

whose lives were the inspiration for this story.

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Acknowledgements

The Lord has graciously blessed me and my husband with six incredible children (and many grandchildren). They have helped me tremendously during the writing of this book. Their names are written according to their birth: Janet, Eugene, Gary, Jacquie, Velvet, and Jim. I want to especially credit Gene, Velvet, and Jim for reading the whole book and giving much helpful instruction along the way. Also, their spouses have contributed to it through encouragement and patience while my children were helping me. My brother, Edwin Garrett, showed great interest and gave me helpful advice and input.

Much of the story is true, told to me by my mother, relatives, and even strangers. But the writer’s pen fell into my hands, and I have enjoyed the journey. Several people from all walks of life read my manuscript, and they each gave kind and helpful remarks. I want to thank each and every one of them for their help along the way, and I especially want to acknowledge Jill Miklosovic, my editor, for making the whole story flow smoothly and her husband David and their daughters, who were so patient during this process. Most of all, I want to thank Jesus Christ, my Lord, for being with me during the long hours of the writing of this book.

The Used-to-Be

Beyond the purple, hazy trees

Of summer’s utmost boundaries…

There lies a land, long lost to me,—

The land of Used-to-be!

James Whitcomb Riley

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Chapter 1

T he surrounding green hills almost engulfed the old man and the child as they walked through a meadow in the valley. The valley seemed small in comparison to the myriad of trees looming around them as they trudged along. Limping and carrying a sack on his back, the old man lost sight of the little girl as she skipped away to chase a delicate butterfly in its irregular flight. While skipping, she sang a phrase over and over: sweet summer… Finally she gave up chasing the butterfly and ran to meet up with the old man. They continued walking across the valley and entered again into a wooded area. The year was 1910.

Let’s stop here and rest, Papa, begged the dark-haired four-year-old girl, gazing up into her father’s eyes. I’m so very tired! Please, Papa, let’s stop and rest.

The little girl pointed ahead of them. See that big rock! Let’s stay there awhile! She scampered to it, panting as she dropped, sprawling across its mossy top. Let’s rest here for a while. I’m so sleepy.’

No, child, the girl’s father answered in a nurturing tone. We must get to our destination before dark.

Please, Papa, it feels so good here! Oh, I could stay here forever! Aura exclaimed as she raised herself up on one elbow atop her cool rocky perch.

No, child, you couldn’t! Your hungry little stomach would urge you on after a while. Besides, we need to make it to Mr. Garner’s before dark.

Who is Mr. Garner, Papa, and where does he live?

He lives at Garner Acres, a big farm, my child. Don’t you remember, baby?

No, Papa. Should I?

No, I reckon not since you were quite young the last time we were there. I suppose you were only two then.

But now I’m four.

Yes! You are, and learning more every day!

Oh, Papa, I’m very tired, Aura said again, stroking the cool rock. Let me sleep for just a minute. She held up one finger to indicate the smallness of one minute.

No, baby, we can’t take the time.

Just for a little minute, Papa, please?

Old Andrew Blake knew his daughter must be weary trying to keep up his pace. Even though his disability slowed him down, his strides had been longer than hers, and she had to take two steps to his one.

And, Papa, I’m so hungry! What can we eat? Aura asked as she smoothed away the debris from the large smooth stone.

Andrew, in quiet stillness, pondered what the child had said and realized it was time for them to eat. He knew he had a few provisions in his sack, but nothing substantial. He had brought along only the essentials for the trip, and that included a Bible, a catalog, and a few utensils for them to use for cooking and eating. Realizing they had left his old comrade Charley Wilson’s house almost four hours ago and perhaps covered two miles of their journey, Andrew finally agreed with his daughter.

All right, Aura, I will let you lie down on this rock and take a nap while I go down there, he said, pointing through the trees below to a spring running down a steep incline. Now, close your eyes and do not move. I won’t be gone long. I’ll dip some fresh water from the spring for us to drink and look around for berries or anything that we might eat.

Breathing the fresh sweet aromas of the young spring day, little Aura drifted off into sweet oblivion, with not a care in the world, because she had her dear papa to watch over her. Once, Andrew came back to check on Aura and then continued his search in another direction. He eventually came upon another spring of water bubbling out of a hill. He looked on the ground near the tree trunks and was pleased by what he discovered. Spread all around in bunches were dry land fish, the largest and most healthy mushrooms he had ever seen. Hurrying back with a pan full of mushrooms that he had washed in the spring, Andrew halted as he approached his beautiful daughter. It was as though a hush had settled over the whole earth and sent a ray of light down to illuminate her head. Andrew could not disturb her peaceful rest. Rather, the old man gathered some wood, built a fire, and began to prepare the mushrooms. He carried a pouch filled with a mixture of flour, meal, and salt, along with a frying pan, and two tin cups. He took a small fruit jar from his sack and poured a little grease into the frying pan.

The fire popped as Andrew laid the mushrooms, covered in the meal and flour mixture, into the hot frying pan, using a stick to turn them over quickly. Andrew then stirred some water into the remaining mixture to make each of them a small cake. Next, Andrew dropped the two small cakes into the hot grease, flipping them over so they could brown on both sides. After they were done, he removed the pan from the fire and carried it to the rock where Aura lay sleeping.

Andrew shook her and whispered, Aura Leigh.

Yes, Papa?

Wake up! It’s time to eat.

Aura sat up, rubbing her eyes.

While you’re waking up, I’ll fetch some water to drink in our little tin cups, Andrew told her.

While her father was gone, Aura noticed the birds singing above her in the trees, making her aware of the sweetness of the day.

As she continued to rouse herself from the deep sleep, her father returned with the two cups of water. He placed them on the large rock and hurried to get the sack with the tin plates and other items necessary for a meal. He then placed everything in a setting for two as though they were eating in the familiar surroundings of their home.

While Andrew and Aura were getting ready to eat, they felt a slight cool breeze stir the trees’ tender green leaves as the sun peeked through the thickness of the boughs.

I love this food, Papa. But where are the berries?

I found no berries. It’s too early in the year for them. Sorry, honey, my memory isn’t so good any more. But we were fortunate to find the mushrooms!

Yes, Papa, they’re yummy!

Andrew looked up. The sun is just about overhead. That means it’s about noon. Now let’s hurry and be on our way again.

No, not yet, Papa! You need to rest. The way you hobble around on your crippled leg, you lay down here and sing to me about the little children who had no mother.

Oh, child, don’t ever rush into a memory. If you do, it will break your heart. You must tiptoe gently and walk softly into a memory. Then perhaps your little heart can take it. You see, each time I sing you that song, I am reminded of your blessed, sweet mother, my beautiful Betsy, so graceful, whom God called away when she was only twenty-eight.

Tell me about her, Papa, the young child pleaded.

Well, when I was a young man, I left home to join the Confederate Army and was wounded in a great Civil War battle in 1863—the Battle of Chattanooga, to be exact—leaving me crippled in my left hip and walkin’ with a limp. I’ll never forget draggin’ myself to the edge of the field under some bushes along the fencerow. I was so close to the enemy that I saw the whites of their eyes. I had to grit my teeth to keep from screamin’ with pain, and I had to press my handkerchief into the wound or I would have bled to death. We lost that battle, and I almost lost my life that day.

I’m so glad that you didn’t die that day, Aura said as she ate her meal. If you had, Jay and I would not have been born, would we? But please tell me more about Mother!

Darling, Andrew continued, I was sixty-five and your mother was twenty when we met. I would go to the apple orchard near where she lived with her parents to gather a few apples. She would see me there and come running down to the trees to help me pick them off the ground. She would call my name as she came to meet me from the hill overlooking the orchard. ‘Hello, Mr. Blake,’ she would say as she approached, ‘may I help you pick up the apples?’ And that’s how it all started.

Andrew took another bite of his meal before continuing.

My first wife had died and all my children were married. I was a lonely man. Your mother was a little romantic, looking for an outlet there in the back country with no young men available. I suppose I appealed to her because, strange as it may seem, she did love me dearly.

Andrew looked at Aura, who was listening intently while eating her meager meal.

A few months later, I married your mother. A year later, our first son was born, but little Darrin lived for only eighteen months. He took the fever and died. About a week after he was gone, your mother was walking in the garden and discovered his little bare footprints in the mud. It was almost more than she could endure, for this seemed to compound her grief. Then, about a year later, your older brother, Jay, was born. Jay brought a little heap of happiness to our home. Three years later, you came along, weighing fourteen pounds with four teeth and a head full of raven-black hair!

Aura smiled at her father’s description.

We spoiled you more because you were a baby girl. Sadly, though, when you were at the weaning age, your mother took the fever. She never regained her strength and grew weaker and weaker as the months went by. She developed large bedsores on her hips and arms. The doctor came to our little, two-roomed house and lanced them, and your aunts came to help take care of her, but no matter how good the care or how much the love, when God calls…

I know, Papa, I only remember that when the doctor lanced her sores, he called Aunt Sophia to bring clean cloths, for the blood streamed down. I remember, Papa. I miss her so…

After hearing these words, Andrew fought back tears, and Aura said, All right, Papa, I’ll sing to you—only one song and then we’ll go. I know it’ll make us both feel better. Aura began to sing:

Mama’s in heaven. Angels took her away—

To dwell in that city so bright,

She said she would come for her darlings someday,

Perhaps she is coming tonight.

Mr. Blake sat up and took hold of Aura’s shoulders. You sing like an angel! I must tell you something, little one. You are only four years old, and your mother has been gone for two years. Soon I must go, too. I’m seventy-five and have already lived longer than most people live. I think God has given me more time because of you and Jay.

No, no, Papa! She threw her arms around her dear father. Not yet, not yet!

No, I’m not going yet! But let me finish, he urged. "We’re going to Mr. Garner’s house to see him, and I know I can’t ask him to take you, but…now, I’ve been praying. I know that somehow, someday, you will be living at that place. I saw it all in a dream, but don’t tell anyone. God wants us to keep His secrets.

Baby, we just need to make it ’til spring, he continued. I believe I may be able to sell some of my Bibles and other reading books. That’ll help us to buy a few things we will need through the winter. You know how your old papa dreads the cold winters.

Yes! Aura replied, encouraging him, "But this winter, I’ll take good care of you. I want to learn to knit, and Aunt Sophia is knitting you an afghan, and it will be finished before winter. Jay’s seven now, and he’s getting better at cutting wood. We’ll both carry wood and stack it on the porch for you, and when that begins to dwindle, then we’ll carry more and more wood…

Oh, and that’s not all, she went on to say, thoughtfully. Jay will heat some good hot broth, and I’ll wrap your feet in your yarn blanket. We’ll sit by the fire, and you’ll read to us ‘til we learn to read well like you. We’ll bake molasses cake and drink apple cider and munch on fried apple pies. Let’s hurry home now so we can get ready for winter, she added, warmly responding to her own suggestions.

Now, hold your horses, girl, we’ve got a lot of living to do before that old man winter comes around! her father exclaimed, optimistically.

I wish I did have some horses, Aura replied. I’d give them to you, and you would never, never have to hobble around anymore.

Hush, child! the old man scolded. You know I don’t mind walking in God’s beautiful earth and enjoying the wealth of it. It’s ours—all of it!

I know! I know! Aura agreed.

Chapter 2

T he sun had left a glow on the horizon, displaying pink and gray in the twilight as they arrived at Garner Acres. A young man, Tate, who worked for Mr. Garner, saw them coming and came to welcome them with a lantern. After Tate ushered them through the entrance gate, past the huge elaborate columns supporting the front porch, and into the elegant parlor, Mrs. Garner greeted them.

Accustomed to generously opening her home to the needy, Mrs. Garner opened her heart to them. She saw right away that they were exhausted and hungry. She called to Matilda, the housemaid: Hustle up some warm vittles, please, and bring a pan of warm water from the stove reservoir to wash up the little one. When Matilda obliged, Mrs. Garner took Aura on her knee and began to wash her face and hands ever so soothingly.

Meanwhile, Mr. Blake used the washing block near the back porch. Located between the porch and the well, the washing block was used by the working men when they came in from the barn or field. They would wash their hands before eating or retiring to keep from soiling the house.

Mrs. Garner then began to strip the child down and gave orders to Matilda to fetch a clean nightshirt. She’s such a tiny little thing, but I think Patrick’s night shirt should be sufficient. Now we’ll hand wash her clothes and hang them in the warm night air. They’ll be dry by morning.

Oh, thank you, Mrs. Garner, said Mr. Blake, returning from the washing block. We sure do miss a woman’s touch. You are so kind!

Tell me, Andrew, where’s your young son?

Jay? Oh, he’s staying with my older son, Pete, helping him on the farm. He’ll be back with us when crops are laid by this fall.

But, isn’t he awfully young to work in the fields?

Yes, he’s seven, but he brings them water, runs errands, helps with feeding the chickens and gathering eggs, and such jobs as these. You know, my children have had to work, and they like doing whatever is needed!

I admire you, Andrew, for the way you have taught your children.

It’s just what the Lord wants us to do with our children—to teach them to obey God and work with their hands, and to love their fellow man.

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Aura fell asleep on Mr. Blake’s lap after supper. After Matilda carried her upstairs, Mr. Blake warmly continued his appreciation