A Simple Winter: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel

by Rosalind Lauer

  Frustrated, Remy leaned back in the chair and squeezed the armrests tight. Why was he resisting all of her suggestions? “Even if you don’t want the man punished, don’t you want him off the streets so that he can’t hurt anyone else?”

  “That’s not up to me,” Adam said calmly. “It’s a matter of following the Ordnung.”

  Remy spoke in a measured tone, not wanting anyone in the kitchen to overhear. “So you’d sit back, while your brother’s life may be in jeopardy from this killer, because of the church rules?”

  “Simon’s life isn’t in jeopardy,” he said quickly. “He’s surrounded by family and friends at all times. He’s staying home from school right now as an extra precaution, that’s all.”

  “I thought you of all people would understand. You lived on the outside—”

  “But I’m Amish now. I took a vow to obey God and follow the rules of the Ordnung for the rest of my life. So your thinking about me is wrong, Remy. I’m not English, and I’m not straddling two worlds. I’m not going to bend the rules.”

  “Even if it means finding the man who murdered your parents?”

  A look of desolation darkened his eyes as he shook his head. “We both know English, but we’re not speaking the same language. I think you’d better go now.”

  He was right.

  Although it crushed Remy to admit it, they belonged to two very separate worlds. Two planets spinning in different universes.

  As she stood, it struck her as incredibly sad that two people with so much personal chemistry could never be together. That and the fact that she wouldn’t have a chance to help Simon.

  Her eyes misted, but she held her head high as she straightened her sweater and walked away from him. By the time she reached the kitchen, tears blurred her vision.

  “Remy?” Sadie called. “Are you okay?”

  She wanted to answer—Sadie deserved a proper good-bye. Indeed, the entire family did. But she couldn’t speak over the knot of emotion throbbing in her throat.

  “Remy?”

  Their faces were a blur of concern and surprise as she rushed past and plunged into the darkness of the mudroom and fumbled into her stiff, cold boots. Where was her coat? She grabbed it from a hook on the wall as Sadie’s voice startled her.

  “What happened in there?”

  “I can’t talk.” Remy’s voice was raw, shaky. “I have to go. Thank you for everything.”

  “Remy, please don’t go …”

  Unable to face Sadie, she pushed through the door and hunkered down under the collar of her leather coat. Expecting to be assaulted by sheets of icy rain, she was greeted instead by tiny flecks of snow. Like confetti, it glimmered in the air and dusted the ground.

  Her heart sank.

  This was a problem.

  Despite the beauty of the farm, its buildings and fields blanketed in a thin layer of white, Remy worried about driving in hazardous snow. Suddenly, the turmoil of her dispatch with Adam faded to the task at hand. How was she going to get home in this?

  She swiped at her eyes and took a deep breath.

  The sweet, clean air bolstered her spirits. She could do it. She had driven through three inches once at a ski resort in New York, and she’d managed just fine. She could do it … but she would have to take it slow.

  As if to underline the hazard, her boots slipped over a patch of frozen ground and she waved her hands in the air to regain her balance.

  Take it nice and slow.

  The blanket of ice and snow over her car only validated Adam’s warning about the weather. She started the engine, put the defroster on full blast, and searched for a scraper. No go. She’d have to make do.

  Leaning against the side of the car, she began to chisel at the frozen windshield with a credit card. There was only a light dusting of snow. No big deal, she thought.

  “Chance of precipitation, zero percent,” she muttered as her bare fingers began to ache from the cold. “And I was stupid enough to believe the satellite forecast.” Adam had to think she was a total fool.

  Glancing up at the house, she scraped faster. She didn’t want Adam to think that she was stalling. Would they realize that she couldn’t drive with a frozen windshield? She supposed that glass on their buggies frosted over at times. Maybe. Probably. She didn’t care, as long as she could get out of here, fast.

  The ice gave way to the warm air from the dash, and a fan-shaped patch melted away completely. Remy scraped at the edges, clearing enough space to see straight ahead for now.

  She was good to go.

  The blast of warm air inside the car was nauseating now, but it eased the pain in her frozen hands as she held them in front of the blower for a minute. Molten warmth. She sighed, then pulled herself together. She buckled up, hit the wipers, and put the car in gear; at last, she was rolling down the bumpy driveway.

  She held tight to the steering wheel as the car wheels began to spin in the dipping driveway. The tires slipped on the little hill, the rear end fishtailing slightly as she gave it some gas. But she managed to get traction and the car climbed the slight rise, rocking as she passed the cluster of beech trees.

  It would be better once she reached the road. Smooth sailing, she told herself as she peered through the little porthole she’d cleared on the windshield. Small flakes clung to the glass until the wipers swept them away. Her timing was good, with the snow just starting. In a minute she would be on the paved road, and once she passed through Halfway she would be traveling on the highway, ahead of the storm before there was any real accumulation.

  The lane ended, and Remy’s tight chest relaxed when she saw the shiny black pavement.

  No snow to contend with on the roadway, and no traffic in sight.

  She was home free.

  Relieved, she turned onto the paved road and pressed the accelerator.

  The rear of the car wiggled, like an irate beast behind her.

  And what was that whirring sound?

  A second later she was terrified by the realization that the noise was the skidding of her rear tires as the car began to fishtail. The shiny dark roadway was covered in ice—deadly black ice—and the crisp white fields whirled past her line of vision as her car spun around.

  Her heartbeat raced as panic roared in her head. “Oh, no! Please God!”

  Frantic, she tried to grip the steering wheel, to stop the skid, but the car twirled on its own crazy path. The breath was stolen from her body as the cold winter world flashed by her with dizzying speed.

  Everything was out of control.

  THIRTY

  hat had he done?

  Head in hands, Adam sat alone in the gloom, the prison of his own making.

  She was trying to help, trying to protect Simon—and wasn’t that what he wanted, too? They wanted the same thing, and yet he pitted himself against her, widening the gap, preying upon their cultural differences to drive her away.

  Off into the wet, icy night.

  Although it felt wrong to act like such an ogre, he couldn’t let her stay and thread her way into their family. She was already too close, already something of a problem for him with the bishop.

  With a deep breath he straightened, his gaze falling on the chessboard where the pieces had been left, a game in progress. Jonah was the chess master here, always the winner in this house. His strategy was to stay one or two moves ahead of his opponent, always thinking ahead.

  A fine defensive strategy, Adam thought. A tactic he should have utilized with Remy McCallister, who seemed to render him vulnerable at every turn. Just when he felt ready for her next move, she came at him with a new attack.

  He dragged himself out of the chair and realized he was parched, as if the heated debate with Remy had burned a path clear down his throat.

  Needing water, he made his way into the kitchen, leery of the reception there. Mary helped Susie and Ruthie with quilting squares. Simon had his homework, Leah’s face was tipped toward an open book, and Sadie was writing, working on a circl
e letter. Even with all the activity they were uncharacteristically silent as Adam filled a glass at the sink and gulped greedily.

  When he turned away from the sink, he saw them watching from the long table. His five oldest sisters had paused in their tasks to stare up at him. From the end of the table, Simon colored the edges of a map, his eyes flickering up at Adam. Curiosity and disapproval blew through the room like a gale wind. He was better off getting out of here before someone gave voice to it.

  He quickly turned back to the sink and placed the glass on the counter. If he grabbed a coat and flashlight, he could slip out to the barn and help Jonah and Gabe check on the animals.

  He lunged into the mudroom and—

  “What did you say to her?” Mary asked from behind him.

  Leave it to Mary to reel him in. He should have moved more swiftly. “It was a long conversation,” he called from the sheltered porch as he grabbed a coat. “As I’m sure you heard.”

  “We didn’t hear enough of it,” Sadie said.

  “But it looked like you made her cry.” That was Ruthie’s voice. “Did you make her cry, Adam?”

  “Can we talk about this later?” he called.

  Footsteps sounded behind him, and Mary stood in the doorway, her figure silhouetted against the kitchen light. “Adam King, don’t think you can escape and leave us wondering and worried about that girl,” she said. “Kumm. Explain.”

  He hung his coat back on the peg and traipsed into the kitchen to face the jury of sisters.

  “Why did you drive Remy away after she was incredibly kind to us?” Leah asked. “Did you see the many books she brought us?”

  “That was very generous of her,” Adam said, leaning against the sink. “But it’s not right for her to stop in here and turn everything upside down. Why did she come here in the first place? I don’t know.”

  “She came here because she’s my friend.” Sadie jiggled the pen in her hands, her lips puckered in a frown. “She’s my friend, and she has a good heart.”

  “Even if her heart is in the right place, she doesn’t belong here.”

  “Because she’s not Plain People?” Sadie asked.

  “She doesn’t understand what it’s like to be Plain. Her value system is completely different.” Adam rubbed his chin, wondering why he felt as if he had to defend himself to his own sisters. “I didn’t intend to hurt her, but I had to defend our family, our faith.”

  Sadie folded her arms across her chest. “That and you don’t want the bishop to know that I’ve got friendships with Englishers.”

  “Which you’d better be wary of, or measures will be taken to keep you and all the rumspringa youth in line.” The bishop’s warning about the path that led away from God echoed in his mind.

  Anger flamed in Sadie’s eyes, but instead of firing back she looked down at her letter, quiet for the moment.

  A small relief for Adam, who was in no mood to take on another battle. At the moment he felt drained of patience and energy.

  “Let’s stick to the problem.” As usual, Mary was the voice of wisdom. “Not to criticize you, brother Adam, but are you sure it’s right to drive her off with the weather spitting mad out there?” She pointed to the window. “Do you hear that?”

  The kitchen went silent but for the ticking clock and the patter of ice crystals on the windows and roof.

  An ice storm.

  Adam cocked his head, peering through the window. More ice than snow, and that was probably not a good thing. Minuscule chips of frozen precipitation filled the air.

  A call beckoned him. This was dangerous weather, and Remy was alone.

  “Terrible weather for travel,” Mary said.

  “It’s getting worse.” Sadie went to the window. “And I barely made it home from work myself.”

  “What if she gets stuck on the road?” Concern filled Ruthie’s voice.

  “She can’t have gotten far,” Adam said, turning toward the door. Panic tightened, a fist in his chest, but he fought to stay calm. “I’ll go and stop her.”

  Mary pushed out of her chair and clambered out to the mudroom. “I’ll hitch up Thunder while you find a coat and hat.”

  He plunged into the darkness of the porch, feeling for the hooks on the walls. “There’s no time, and it’s bound to be too slippery for a carriage. Get his halter and I’ll ride bareback.”

  Without a cloak of her own she dashed out into the night, her skirts swirling as she ran to the barn. Pushing back the feeling of alarm, Adam grabbed a coat and hat and raced out behind her.

  Within minutes they had Adam’s horse ready to ride, but Jonah warned him to take caution.

  “Everything is covered in ice,” Jonah said. “I just slipped when I went to check the stables.”

  “I’ll be careful.”

  “Take this.” Gabe handed him an LED lamp, one of the flashlights they wore on headbands for morning milking.

  “Good thinking.” Adam tugged his hat on securely, pulled the headlamp on over it, then jumped onto Thunder’s back and headed off into the blistering storm.

  Although there was a wide spot in the driveway where Remy’s car had been parked, the vehicle’s tracks were already covered in a thin sheet of snow. How long ago had she pulled out of here? And how far had she traveled? Even though she was in a car, she wouldn’t be moving too fast. He could pray for her safe journey, but this was not a night for long passage by car or horse.

  He had to find her.

  Despite the lack of wind, the falling ice crystals were relentless, a wall of pelting needles. Still, he had confidence in his mount, knowing that most horses could cope well in cold weather. “Easy, there,” he called to the horse, if only to soothe his own panic. The frozen ground would be solid underfoot, but he worried that the horse might slip in a patch of ice, which was impossible to see on the snow-dusted earth.

  Tamping down the alarm that still sounded in his head, he guided Thunder past the barren beech trees. The horse’s footing seemed solid and sure as they climbed the gentle rise. Jonah had gotten the farrier to outfit the horses with winter shoes, complete with antislip road nails, but nothing could be sure to grip on sheer ice.

  When they reached the paved road, Adam sensed trouble.

  “Whoa.” He held the horse back and slid to the ground. A coating of slush, like an inch of pudding, covered the asphalt road. And underneath?

  His boots slid as he tested the way. Just as he’d thought, there was slush on top of ice. Nearly impassable.

  “Let’s stick to the shoulder,” he told the horse, leading him to the side of the roadbed. “Just stay out of the ditch.”

  Knowing Thunder could manage the terrain as long as they stayed off smooth ice, Adam hitched himself atop the horse and picked up the pace. In a half mile, he didn’t see a single vehicle. It was a wasteland out here.

  Concern gripped him as they headed toward town.

  Where was Remy now?

  He’d been wrong to send her out in this. It seemed that he expended so much energy trying to get her away from his family and out of his thoughts. But he’d been wrong to turn her out in this foul weather. He saw that now.

  “Oh, Lord,” he breathed, his heart thudding in desperation. “Please, keep her safe.”

  They crested a hill and he saw it—the lump of a vehicle jutting from a ditch at the side of the road. One of the wheels was off the ground and still moving slowly, and the roadway was a scramble of tire tracks in the snow.

  Was it Remy? Whoever it was needed help.

  He urged his horse forward, his eyes on the car. It had slid off to the right side of the road, and now, with the passenger side pressed into the ditch, it would be near impossible to pry open that door.

  When they were parallel to the wreck, he halted his horse and left the horse to wait on the shoulder as he slogged across the ice to the disabled car.

  “Remy?”

  No answer in the falling snow.

  “Remy? Are you okay?” he shouted as
he approached.

  In the sickening silence, he listened intently and prayed.

  Then, the driver’s door opened, and the beam of his flashlight illuminated her tearstained face.

  “Adam?” She sniffed. “I feel so … so stupid.”

  “Don’t. It wasn’t your fault.” He bent down beside the car. “Are you okay? Any bumps or bleeding?”

  “No … I don’t think so.”

  As she swiped at her eyes, he stared into the dark car. His heartbeat quickened at the sight of her face, illuminated by her cell phone. Her lower lip trembled, but there were no injuries that he could see.

  “There was ice on the road.…” She sniffed. “I didn’t realize until it was too late and …” The dashboard was covered by the disheveled gray fabric of the air bags. Now sagging, they had done their job.

  Her eyes were round and glassy with tears, and as one tracked down her cheek he allowed himself to brush it away with the tip of a finger.

  “The important thing is that you’re safe,” he said.

  “Don’t. You’re going to kill me with kindness, after I’ve been a total idiot. I should have listened to you about the weather, and now …” Her voice broke. “I wrecked my car and I can’t get cell service. And even if I could, I wouldn’t be able to tell a tow truck how to find me.”

  “No trucks will be heading out here in this storm, but don’t worry. We’ll help you find one tomorrow, after the snow stops. For now, let’s get you back to the warm house.”

  “I can’t. Sadie told me you got in trouble when I stayed last time.”

  “That’s not entirely true.…” But he was intrigued to know that Sadie cared about what the church leaders thought.

  “You can put me out in the barn. I’ll sleep in the hayloft.”

  “The barn?” All the pent-up anxiety over her safety drained in a laugh at the thought of Remy holed up in a pile of hay. “Don’t be silly. You’re coming home with me.”

  As if suddenly weary, she leaned back in the seat and closed her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Adam. I keep causing you trouble.”

  She spoke the truth. She probably had no idea how much trouble she had brought into his home and heart. But this was not the time.