A Simple Winter: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel

by Rosalind Lauer

  Soon Adam and Five had flames crackling in the fireplace. Mary placed a blanket on the floor and they sat together picnic-style, sipping cocoa, joking, and playing Scrabble, despite Five’s protests that Remy knew too many words. Five entertained them with the tale of his adventure getting here, joking that the snow was higher than his horse’s withers, and that, at one point, he had to dig a tunnel so that they could pass through high drifts of snow.

  “All for a Saturday night out,” Adam said. “Sounds to me like too much work.”

  “Or are you just thinking that you should have had the same idea, Adam?” Mary picked tiles out of the box. “Maybe you could have dug a tunnel to Annie’s house.”

  While Remy pretended to rearrange her tiles, she watched Adam for his reaction, looking for a hint of how he felt about this Amish girl named Annie. Although Mary had mentioned her before, Remy had completely forgotten about her, and now she felt a stab of jealousy over the possibility that he might love someone else.

  By way of response, Adam mumbled something about needing vowels and plunked his tiles into the box to “scrabble.”

  While Mary took her turn, Remy tried to reel in her feelings. Yes, she was attracted to Adam. In getting to know him over the past few days she had observed that he had a heart of gold, good and kind, so genuine compared to any of the guys she’d ever dated.

  But Mary had made it sound like he had a girlfriend, and he had not disputed it. A negative voice niggled at her conscience.

  He’s taken. He’s Amish. You are not. End of story.

  As the game went on, she snuck a glance at Adam, who was stretched out on one side, his head propped on one hand. She kept telling herself that she had fallen in love with his family. That was the crux of the matter. So if Adam wanted to marry this Annie person, it didn’t mean that she couldn’t still come visit everyone occasionally.

  The more she told herself it was fine, the more it was not. Yes, she adored this family, but her moments spent playing friend or sister to the Kings paled in comparison to the role she had begun to play with Adam. When they worked side by side, they complemented each other so beautifully. Like yin and yang, salt and pepper, fork and spoon.

  It scared her to think of the snow clearing. Would she simply pick up and drive away from this intrinsic sense of rightness she had found? She wanted to think that Adam wouldn’t let her go. She wanted to hope that rules might be broken so that they could be together.… But without an idea of how this could all end happily, she pushed it to the back of her mind, a problem to be solved some other time.

  “High score goes to Adam.” Mary’s brows rose as she tallied on the pad of paper. “You seemed to lose steam at the end, Remy.”

  “And how about my score?” Five leaned close to Mary, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I don’t think I had any steam to lose. I never reached a boil.”

  A tender smile crossed Mary’s face. “I don’t think it’s your game.”

  Remy turned away from them, wanting to afford the couple some space.

  “I’m going to get some more wood,” Adam said from behind her. The resignation in his voice matched Remy’s mood. It hurt to give Adam up, even if she had never truly had him.

  While Remy picked up the Scrabble pieces, Mary and Five moved to the couch and started to set up the Password game. The couple spoke quietly in Pennsylvania Dutch, and though Remy respected their privacy she secretly longed to learn the language so that she could share quiet words with Adam in the first language he’d ever learned. Glancing up at the red embers in the fireplace, she realized she had it bad. Did every thought have to be about Adam?

  “Okay.” Adam’s voice registered some surprise as he moved past Remy to the fire. “Looks like we’ve lost the other team.”

  Up on the sofa, the couple had dozed off, Mary’s head nestled against Five’s shoulder.

  Adam moved the grate back and hoisted a log over the ashen red embers. As he worked the fire with a poker, Remy swallowed back a feeling of awkwardness. The softly lit room was closing around them, intimate and quiet.

  They needed a safe topic … something that would not inflame either of them.

  “I’ve noticed that Leah is a total bookworm,” Remy said. “And she seems disappointed that this is her last year of school.”

  “Ya, Leah is quite the student.” He sat back on his haunches, waiting for the log to catch. “The schoolhouse teaches up to eighth grade. After that, children work at home, a more practical education.”

  “But Leah is a scholar. Eighth grade barely scratches the surface for someone with her intellect. Isn’t there a high school nearby?”

  “That’s not how it works in the Amish community.” He closed the grate and sat on the quilt beside her, his elbows resting casually on his knees. “A high school education won’t help you here. It’s time for Leah to pick up some skills that will prepare her for real life. She needs to learn how to cook and sew and run a house.”

  “I know, but it’s a shame that she can’t pursue the things she loves. Her God-given talents.”

  “Here with her family, she can learn the things that really matter. Life skills. Humility. And an appreciation for God’s creations.” Commitment gleamed in his dark eyes. “It’s my job to make sure she becomes a good Amish woman.”

  In another time and place Remy would have argued for higher education, but the Kings did just fine without high school. Jonah was the farming expert here. Gabe understood the Holsteins’ habits and needs. Mary could feed a family of twelve almost single-handedly. Even Simon, at just nine, was becoming a horse whisperer, capable of grooming and managing the eight horses in the stable.

  Besides, Remy recognized the responsibilities that weighed Adam down. This was his family. Young lives relied on him.

  “Although I don’t agree with all the rules of the Amish, I have to admit that I’m absolutely in love with the strong sense of family.”

  “Ya?” He swung his feet around so that they were both facing the fire, now dancing with flames. “Absolutely in love? Is that more or less than totally in love?”

  She smacked his knee, attempting playfulness, though the physical interaction seemed to startle them both.

  “I’m serious now. Your family is wonderful, and Sadie says most Amish families work together this way. No one complains about their chores and when we’re sitting together at the table or working together in the barn, there’s such a sense of … cohesiveness, I guess.”

  He nodded. “That was something I missed in the years I was away.”

  “It’s a wonderful feeling. I wish I had even one sister or brother, someone to watch out for and get my back, a friend for life.” She stretched out on her side, propped up on one elbow. The warmth of the fire, the security of having Adam close, the sleeping house around them … it all conspired to relax her.

  “And you know what else I love, love, love?” she said. “How the Amish home is the center of everyone’s lives. Every person in your family knows they belong here. This home—it promises warmth and love and security. Despite my father’s material success, he never gave me a home like this, at least, not after Mom died. And all the money in the world doesn’t match the wonderful home you have here.” She sighed. “It doesn’t even come close.”

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  he was beautiful.

  The long lashes of her eyes fluttering closed. The play of firelight on the contours of her face. The curve of her neck as she stretched out completely on the quilt and dozed off.

  How natural it would feel to place his palm on her shoulder. He imagined raking back her hair, its silken copper gliding through his fingers. How he would delight in pressing his lips to hers for a small taste.

  That was stone-cold crazy.

  He knew that. Yet as he stretched out behind her—within inches of her slender body—he imagined leaning closer, closing the space, pressing his body to hers.

  This had to be wrong. Was it temptation?

  He closed his
eyes and tried to think of a Bible passage to illuminate this moment, but the only thing that came to mind was Genesis 24:67: “… and he married Rebekah …”

  Rebecca … When he’d learned that Rebecca was Remy’s real name, he had looked it up in the Bible index, and there was that passage, like a message from God. “So she became his wife, and he loved her.…” Why wasn’t her name something Englisher, like Heather or Muffy?

  He took a deep breath, trying to breathe some sense into his tangled thoughts. The smell of wood smoke and the semisweet scent of lantern oil sobered him. From some of her recent questions, hope had begun to beat in his chest like a wild bird.

  Hope that she might want to stay.

  If that were true, theirs would be a twisting, bumpy road. The bishop was not in the habit of baptizing outsiders to the faith. The district’s reluctance to accept outsiders was based on experience. Seekers came and went, and Adam had never known anyone from the outside to stay. Although Englishers sometimes enjoyed “simplifying” their lives, most did not understand the daily workload and religious commitment of being Amish. People got nervous when they learned that baptism meant they would be Amish forever.

  There were many obstacles to their future together. Huge mountains in their way. But the problems scattered like dust in the wind whenever she was near.

  Creaking floorboards overhead interrupted his thoughts, alerting him that someone was coming.

  He sat up on the quilt in time to see movement on the staircase.

  Down came Simon, his eyes round and glassy, his hands splayed at his shoulders, as if in surrender.

  “He is coming!” he cried. “He is coming after us, Mamm!”

  Adam met him at the bottom of the stairs, but the boy stared beyond him, as if the devil lurked over Adam’s shoulder. “Oh, I have to hide!”

  “Who is coming? Who is it?” Adam followed his brother over to the outstretched quilt, where Remy was sitting up, rubbing her eyes.

  From the sofa, Five called softly to the boy. “Hello, Simon. What’s wrong?”

  Simon paced in a wide circle, his agitation mounting. “What if he finds me? I’m sorry, Mamm, but I must hide.”

  Then, to Adam’s amazement, his little brother dove toward Mary.

  Mary let out a yelp as he pushed his way under her knees. “Simon … oh, liewe …” She pulled her gown aside, but he burrowed deeper under the dark cloth.

  “He’s coming!” Simon wailed. “I can’t let him see me!”

  “But you’re safe here,” Mary told him. “No one is going to hurt you.”

  Simon’s shrill cry was barely muffled by Mary’s skirts. “I can’t let him see me. If he finds me, he will shoot me dead, too!”

  The noise brought Sadie hurrying down the stairs. “Is he okay?”

  “He’ll be fine.” Adam held up his arms for her to stop. “But the memory is very sharp for him.”

  Remy knelt on the floor by the sofa, where Simon still crouched, huddled under Mary’s knees with only his head poking out on the other side.

  “Simon, what did the man look like? Did you recognize him?”

  “No. He wasn’t a bear, but I don’t know who he was.”

  “But you saw his shiny head, right? His bald head?”

  “Because I was up in the buggy, when he … when he came back the second time. He pushed Mamm, and I stayed very still, the way she told me to. But after he left, I peeked out. His hat must have been knocked off, because his bald head was shiny. A balding head with a red mark on it. I will never forget it. The shape reminded me of a gun. But now I know my states. It’s like the state of Florida. Ms. Emma taught us geography in school, and I like Florida because they have warm weather and palm trees there.”

  The room was silent as no one wanted to cut him off. Such a long string of words, maybe the most Simon had spoken since the murders. And loaded with information.

  “A red mark, like a map of Florida on his head.” Sadie winced as she crossed her arms over her nightgown.

  “Was there anything else?” Remy asked. “Anything else that you saw? Do you remember what kind of clothes he was wearing?”

  “Dark stuff. And he was big and round like a bear.” Simon crawled out from under Mary’s legs, but hugged her dress close. “And his pants. The man had something fancy on his pants. A stripe down the side. A black stripe.”

  “A cop?” Remy guessed.

  “There, there.” Mary patted her brother’s back as the room grew silent.

  No one wanted to believe it could be a police officer. Adam had always trusted the police, but now he recalled Simon’s fear of cops after the incident. Was it just because the police came soon after the murders, or was a cop involved in the killing?

  Simon popped up onto the couch and Mary rocked him in her arms, whispering endearments in Pennsylvania Dutch. In moments like this, she reminded Adam of their mamm.

  Remy straightened and crossed the room to join Sadie and him. “Do you think the killer was a cop?”

  “A bald cop,” Sadie corrected.

  “Good thing Sheriff Hallinan has a full head of hair.” Adam watched his brother as he spoke, relieved to see Simon calming down. “I’ve always liked Hank.”

  “And his deputies?” Curiosity lit Remy’s green eyes.

  Sadie shrugged. “One is a woman, and she’s not bald.”

  Adam ran through their faces in his mind. “The other deputy is a young man just back from Iraq. Blaine Collins. He’s got a buzz cut, but plenty of hair.”

  “So at least it’s not someone from the Halfway police.” Remy seemed to cling to every detail. “But there are probably county and state police who patrol this area, right?”

  “Right.” Adam frowned. “But it’s not our place to stand here and play crime solvers. It’s late. Let’s get some sleep.”

  As Adam went to douse the fire, Mary pointed out that Five would need to stay, too. Normally on a Saturday night a beau was permitted to stay until the early hours of morning, when he would return home. But with the heavy snowfall outside, it was best for Five to stay till sunrise.

  “I would send him to the Doddy house, but I don’t want to disturb Mammi.” Adam raked back his hair. “There’s the daybed in the kitchen. Or he can bunk in the boys’ room upstairs.”

  Mary’s smile brought genuine delight to her eyes, and Adam wanted to kick himself for not insisting she marry her beau last fall. His sister was obviously in love with Five, and they would make a good couple, but Mary was afraid to leave the family right now.

  “Let’s get you up to bed again.” Adam lifted Simon into his arms, touched when the arms and legs of his precious cargo flopped down in total release. With a prayer that God would watch over this family always, he headed up the stairs.

  Light spilled onto the desk, buttery light that illuminated the plans he’d been sketching. Once the snow cleared, it wouldn’t take long to transform the upstairs sewing room into a bathroom.

  Once the snow cleared …

  It would be any day now. He and Jonah had discussed the state of the roads, in anticipation of the milk truck getting through. Maybe Wednesday or Thursday. Although it would be a while until they could travel by carriage, the sleigh would work on local roads, once the snow was packed down.

  From the rocker in the corner, Simon lowered his book. “Can I see?” He hopped out of the chair and leaned close.

  “It’s for the upstairs bathroom. I already measured it, so now the floor plan will give us an idea of exactly how much wood and flooring we need.” Simon nodded and returned to his book.

  Adam sketched in the shower stall, glad for the relative quiet. It was a typical Monday evening, if you didn’t count Remy in the kitchen or the four-foot snow drifts outside their window. Over on the sofa, Gabriel read an old edition of The Budget, while Leah turned the page of her book. Jonah sat at the portable table mulling over a huge jigsaw puzzle. Out on the mud porch, Mary was supervising baths for the little ones. Occasional conversation drift
ed in from the kitchen, where the rest of the girls were baking a birthday cake for Sadie.

  Turning eighteen on Wednesday. The prospect of his sister as an adult was daunting, especially knowing the way she’d been leaning lately.

  Trust God, he told himself. Sadie had to find her own way to Him, much as it pained Adam.

  Picking up the kitchen conversation, he listened as the girls explained something for Remy.

  “When you want to be baptized, you tell the bishop and then start going for classes,” Ruthie said. “Eight or nine classes.”

  “But it’s really serious,” Susie said gravely. “They keep asking you if you’re serious, and you have to say ‘I am a seeker desiring to be part of this church of God.’ ”

  “Do you have to be born Amish to join the church?”

  His pencil froze at Remy’s question.

  “You don’t have to be Amish,” Sadie explained. “But I don’t think I’ve ever known our bishop to baptize an Englisher.”

  “Really? You’d think more people would join.”

  “Lots of Frank’s friends tell me they would love to streamline their lives and become Amish. Put their stress behind them. But most people don’t do much more than talk about it. When they try to change, they usually miss the freedom and nice things that Englishers have. I think the freedom they’re looking for, that’s something that happens on the inside. You can’t escape from life just by putting on a prayer kapp and giving up your car.”

  Words of wisdom from his sister Sadie. At least she understood the bigger picture.

  Not that Remy hadn’t gotten a taste of Amish life.

  Nearly a week had passed since that first day when she came barreling into the cowshed wearing a nightgown and boots, eager to help. Since then Remy had always appeared fully dressed for morning milking, with her bubbly desire to help and learn.

  She was one of the hardest-working Englishers he had ever met.

  When the roads cleared, she would return to the city. And after that?

  Trust in God, he reminded himself as he sketched the tub area. Trust in God.