A Simple Winter: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel
Page 25
Sadie tripped and went down, her body sliding a few feet. Her laughter resounded through the trees as she stood up and dusted herself off.
And then there was Remy, skating carefully on the bumpy ice. Her arms were spread wide for balance, reminding him of a fledgling bird testing its wings.
From a distance, you would never know she wasn’t Amish. In her borrowed clothes, her coat, dress, bonnet, and boots, she looked every inch an Amish beauty.
But being Amish was more than a manner of dress.
For Adam, it was about an inner light. Faith. Love. Resilience. But at its core, it was a flame of steadfast peace … something he saw now every time he looked at her.
When had it happened? When had her scattered energy given way to the solid glow of Amish peace?
He couldn’t say. But at some point over the past few days she had changed, a gradual shift, a subtle transformation.
It only steeled his conviction to move ahead with changes on the farm.
Gabe would come to see the light; change could be such a good thing.
THIRTY-FIVE
ust rock the needle, Remy.” Mary’s lips were pressed into a straight line of concern as she watched Remy work the small needle through the fabric spread out on the kitchen table. “I think you’re working too hard. I can tell by the way you’re biting your lower lip.”
Remy’s fingers paused as she blew a breath out through billowed cheeks. “Reading my tension, are you? I’m just trying to keep up. You guys have stitched five or six lines for my one.”
“It’s not about speed,” Sadie said. “There’s no prize for the person who finishes first.”
“I know, but I don’t want to be so obviously bad at this.”
“Because you’re learning?” Mary’s brows rose. “Give yourself a chance, and find the patience in your heart. This is not one of those things you can rush along like a fast car in the Englisher world. It takes time, and that’s a good thing.”
Moving her needle at a slower pace, Remy realized she hadn’t even thought of her real life—“the Englisher world,” as Mary had just reminded her—for days. How many days had it been since she arrived Wednesday night? Counting back, she realized this was day four—Saturday. Four days and she had fallen into the patterns of the King household with an ease that surprised her.
Earlier in the week, she had been waiting to play a round of checkers with Leah and Sadie when Ruthie remarked about Remy’s hair.
“It’s so thick and wild, like a horse’s tail,” Ruthie observed.
Remy had answered with a wobbly smile. “Thanks … I guess.”
When Ruthie asked if she might comb it, Remy consented, and the younger girl had parted Remy’s hair down the center and twisted it back from her face at the temples in the way that the Lancaster County Amish girls wore their hair.
“You’re going to need to borrow a bonnet when you go out.” With skilled fingers, Ruthie pinned her hair at the back of her head. “It’s far too cold to be out there long without something on your head.”
“I’d appreciate that. Do I get to wear one of the white bonnets underneath?”
“You mean a prayer kapp?” Ruthie twisted around to face Remy. “It will bring you closer to God when you pray. He’ll hear your prayers.”
The notion had charmed Remy as she imagined prayers floating from the crisp white organdy bonnets, straight to heaven. “Would I be allowed to wear one? I don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.”
“There’s no rule against fancy folk wearing it,” Leah chimed in, jumping two of Sadie’s checkers.
“Oops!” Sadie squinted at the board. “I didn’t see that coming.” She told Ruthie where to find an extra kapp, and within minutes Ruthie was pinning it onto Remy’s red hair.
Dressed in the prayer kapp, the vivid purple dress, and a white apron, Remy felt a strong sense of belonging here on the Kings’ farm. She fit in. And when she occasionally caught her reflection in a shiny window, she wondered at the new Remy, a woman so unlike the shell of a person who’d arrived here last Wednesday.
She had begun to awaken before dawn, in time to help with the milking. She and Mary had worked out an efficient assembly line so that they could make eighteen peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in a snap. She had figured out that evening was the best time to wash up in the house’s only tub on the mud porch. And every night, she had lain awake in bed to listen for Simon, who inevitably padded down the wood floor of the hall, lost in his subconscious need to escape from the killer who had taken his parents’ lives.
As head of the household, Adam was a fine supervisor, and he had helped her move toward tasks that utilized her strengths, much as any corporate manager might do. He had asked her to come along to help him check the fences, and she had cherished the time spent alone with him. She had also enjoyed riding a horse in the snow, using muscles she forgot she owned. One day he had surprised everyone by enlisting help in moving the sewing room downstairs. They cleared out the room that would become an upstairs bathroom, just as soon as the snow cleared long enough to get plumbers and fixtures onto the property. Remy believed in him as a leader, and that wasn’t just because he’d chosen her to ride the fences.
Of course, she still shoveled the muck with Sadie, who had taught her all the words to “Amazing Grace.” When Simon learned that she used to ride, he took her under his wing and taught her how to groom horses, a task she’d always been spared during her riding years, when all those things had been taken care of for her. She jumped into recipes with Mary, dried the dishes after every meal, and helped make beds in the morning. In the evenings she enjoyed reading to the little ones, playing games with Simon, Ruthie, and Susie, and discussing aspects of zoology and astronomy with Leah.
And then there was the quilting … a challenging skill for Remy.
Just when she thought she was getting the hang of it, she would pull her stitches too tight or run them crooked. But whenever she became discouraged, Mary or Sadie would show her a new trick that helped.
And no matter how uneven her stitches, Remy wouldn’t dream of leaving the quilting table.
Quilting spoke to that part of her that longed to have a home, the only child, who was stranded when her mother died.
Quilting made her feel like part of the King sisterhood, part of the family.
Now, as she pushed her needle through the square of aquamarine fabric at the corner of the Diamond in the Square quilt, she thought about the finished product. One day, someone would tuck this quilt around them for warmth, and their fingers would graze the stitches she had added.
Her eyes misted over at the thought of being part of something bigger than herself. Part of a real family.
“When do you think this quilt will be finished?” Remy asked as she poked her needle into the turquoise cloth along the line Mary had marked for her.
“You want to be finished already?” Mary clucked her tongue. “Rushing, always rushing, when the joy isn’t in the finished quilt. It’s in the stitching.”
“What’s that proverb?” Sadie worked on a swath of purple along the border. “Life is not about surviving the storm. It’s about enjoying the rain.”
“Remy, hold on, you’re poking again.” Mary touched her wrist. “Rock the needle.”
“Rock it. I am so going to rock it.” Remy clasped the needle in her fingers and wiggled it the way Mary had, being careful to catch the layers of fabric and backing. “I’m rocking the stitch. Rocking the rain.”
The girls laughed.
“It’s called rocking the needle,” Ruthie said.
“Whatever. Just call me Rockin’ Remy.”
“Saturday night, and me in my nightcap.” Sadie plunked a white cotton cap on her head and sat on the end of her bed. “This is not my usual Saturday routine.”
Yawning, Remy turned down the quilt of her bed. “After everything we did today, I would think you’d fall into bed. Or do you want to squeeze in one more hour mucking the stables?”
Remy nodded, having covered this territory before with the younger girls. They seemed alternately intrigued and horrified that Sadie was interested in a boy from the outside.
“No one is going anywhere in this snow.” Ruthie pulled the quilt up to her chin and squirmed under the covers. “I’m happy for the snow, even if it did cancel school.”
“And my job at the hotel. And Saturday.” Sadie turned toward the window of the long, narrow bedroom. “I wonder what Frank is doing now. Having a good time out in Lancaster, I suppose.”
“You don’t know that.” Remy sat up in bed, hugging her knees. “Honestly? I think Saturday night is overrated. And I’m happy to be snowed in with you guys.”
Snowed in for four days with no weather break in sight. It had stopped snowing a few times, but the freezing temperatures remained. And Adam had explained that the county and state did not have the machinery to clear these farm roads.
There was no telling when she would be able to make it home safely, which was more than fine by Remy.
Sadie got up to turn off the light, but paused beside the gas lamp.
Leah lowered her book. “Do you have to turn it off now? Just let me finish this chapter.”
“Fine, but don’t forget to say your prayers. You, too, Susie.”
“I always say my prayers.” Innocence chimed in Susie’s voice, a clear, solid faith. “Talking to God makes me end each day with a smile.”
Talking to God …
How long had it been since Remy had allowed herself an open conversation with God? She sighed as she grabbed the pillow and nestled in. Oh, there’d been some prayer, like the plea for help the other night when her car was spinning out of control. But that was sort of a selfish thing. Like a baby who simply wants her needs answered.
Since her mother’s death, God had seemed out of reach, as if He lived in the magnificent stone and glass churches, where she just didn’t have time to visit. So many times, when she felt lost and alone, when she was so desperate for a home, she had driven back to the old house in Philadelphia, just to sit outside and try to recapture memories.
She had been a lost soul, lonely and wounded inside. She had pushed herself to stop looking for a real connection and accept her loneliness, her disenfranchisement, as a part of growing up.
She was trying to survive the storm, without a thought of enjoying the rain, as Sadie had so wisely said.
And then … then she met Adam, and his tragic circumstances and loving family cracked open a world she didn’t know existed, a world where she saw evidence of a benevolent creator every single day.
In the procession of children and adults headed out to the barn for morning milking.
In the hands that kneaded dough to feed a family of eleven.
In Sadie’s creamy smooth voice and Simon’s gentle touch on a horse’s withers.
In heads bent over a colorful quilt in progress.
Here, God surrounded her in whimsical snowflakes. His bold hand painted snow-covered rooftops, meadows, and hills, and his gentle love had begun to heal her heart.
So gently … she didn’t even realize it was happening until now.
Her eyes misted and her heart twisted in her chest at the realization that God was in her life now.
And now that she had found Him, she made a solemn promise to herself that she would never let Him go.
THIRTY-SIX
emy rolled over in bed and stared out at the purple sky of another snowy night. Something had awakened her. Simon?
She was listening carefully for sounds of his footsteps when a bright round beam of light hit the girls’ bedroom window.
She sank down and pulled the covers to her chin.
Was it a sign from God?
The light illuminated ice forms at the edges of the window. Then, it moved to the side and dropped off.
Aliens?
Really, who would be outside the farmhouse in the middle of a snowstorm?
“Hey, you guys?” she whispered. “Did anybody see that?”
The only sounds were the silky breathing of deep sleep.
Remy climbed out of bed and edged toward the dark window. Now the light was off to the left side of the house, emanating from a spot on the lawn, a dark figure. A man.
Who could it be?
Her thoughts went to the worst-case scenario—to Simon, and his raw memories of the man who had taken the lives of Esther and Levi.
Stung by fear, she pushed away from the window and flew out the bedroom door. As soon as she turned left, she saw Mary standing at the hall window. A lantern sat on the floor beside her as she tugged on the window sash.
“There was a light at our window.…” Remy pressed a hand to her chest; she could feel her heart beating rapidly. “And a man outside. Do you know who it is?”
“It’s Five. My beau.” Mary could barely restrain her lopsided grin as she opened the window and blew at the ridge of snow that lined the sill. “Where are you?” Shielding her eyes from the beam of light, she peered out. “How did you ever get here?”
“A fella hikes miles through snow and ice and that’s the welcome you have for him?”
“Did the cold affect your thinking? Because you went to the wrong window and nearly woke up half the house.”
“Such a warm welcome, and me with my fingers turned to icicles. Maybe it wasn’t just the wrong window I went to, but the wrong house …”
Mary covered her mouth to suppress a giggle. “That may be, but now that you’re here you might as well put your horse in the barn. Meet us at the kitchen door and we’ll get the stove going.” Mary started to close the window, then paused to add: “And bring in some wood on the way.”
Remy blinked as Mary closed the window. “How did he get here?”
“Oh, he’d climb many a mountain to get here. No snow or ice will keep him from coming round courtship night. Come on.” Mary grabbed the lantern and floated down the stairs ahead of Remy.
From the landing, Remy noticed light spilling from the kitchen. The lamp near the daybed was lit, and Adam was sprawled there, dozing with a book open on his lap.
“Adam?” Remy called, surprised to see from the wall clock that it wasn’t even nine-thirty yet.
He opened one eye, his chest rising slowly. “I’m awake.”
“Don’t tell me. You figured you’d be one step ahead and have the potbellied stove going when Simon got down here tonight.”
“Something like that.” He shifted, darting a look toward Mary, who was busy at the stove. “What are you two doing up?”
“Mary’s boyfriend is here.”
“Ah, Five. That’s right, it’s Saturday. You could set a clock by that man.”
Remy realized she was wearing a nightgown with socks—hardly charming. She sat down on a kitchen chair to minimize her fashion blunder. Mary wore her dress and apron, and her prayer kapp properly covered her restrained hair. Remy suspected that Mary had been expecting her beau.
The sound of pounding feet came from the mud porch, and Mary bounded out, fussing over the arrival of the frozen man.
Remy curled the sleeve of her flannel nightgown around one pinky. “Can I ask you something?”
Adam closed his book on the bookmark with a nod.
“You don’t mind that Mary’s boyfriend shows up late at night with a flashlight?”
Adam laughed. “That’s the way we do it. Saturday night is date night. The fellow usually waits until the parents are asleep, then comes to the house and wakes his girl.” He nodded toward the porch. “They’ll visit till early in the morning. Some Sunday mornings you hear the clatter of hooves out on the ro
ad. That’s the young men returning home.”
“Really?” Remy was surprised that parents didn’t give their teens curfews. Of course, Mary and Five were different, already in their twenties. “If Saturday is date night, why didn’t Sadie ask her boyfriend to meet her here? She seemed disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to see him.”
“First, there’s no way he could have made the trip, even from Halfway, if that’s where he lives. Five’s parents have a farm a few miles away. There’s also the fact that he’s an Englisher, and she’ll probably never bring him here. It’s too uncomfortable, with him not knowing the ways of Plain People.”
“Am I uncomfortable to be around?”
“Not usually.” He rose and leaned close to her. “But you were a little difficult in the beginning. Pushy and stubborn.” He touched the tip of her nose, but ducked back as she swiped at him.
“I was not! Coming from the king of stubborn, you should know.”
Just then a tall, lanky man appeared in the doorway, his blond hair slightly damp from the snow. Mary followed him in, brushing at his black felt hat.
“Adam …” Five nodded. “If I’d known you’d still be up, I would have waited another hour or so.”
“Look what the wind blew in!” Adam clapped the young man on the back, knocking some snow to the floor. “Nice to see you, but I’m sorry you can’t stay. Wouldn’t want to wake the sleeping children in the house.”
“Adam …” Mary put her hands on her hips. “You’re not my keeper.”
“He’s just trying to be funny. Trying and failing,” Five said with a grin.
“This is our friend Remy,” Mary said, introducing them.
Shaking his hand, Remy could see why Mary had fallen for him, with his quick wit and crystalline blue eyes.
“I’m heating cocoa on the stove.” Mary placed Five’s coat and hat on a chair near the potbellied stove. “Why don’t you go in and get things going in the fireplace? We can play Parcheesi, or Scrabble. Though Remy here has a wonderful vocabulary. She always wins.”
“Then maybe we should play checkers.” Five grinned, then ducked toward the porch. “Almost forgot—the wood.”