A Simple Winter: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel

by Rosalind Lauer

  “Please. It smells wonderful.” Remy followed as Mary took a percolator from the stovetop and poured coffee into a mug. “I’m Remy.”

  “So I heard. Adam and Sadie were worried about you, after the seizure and all. But you look much better today.” Mary handed her the mug. “Milk and sugar?”

  “Just a little milk.”

  As Mary retrieved a small pitcher from the refrigerator, Remy was curious as to how it ran, if the Amish did not allow electricity in their homes. She wanted to ask, but she didn’t want Mary to think she was rude. She also wondered when Adam would be heading back in from whatever was going on out in the barn. She didn’t want him to see her like this, with bed head and smudged makeup, wrapped in a quilt. Judging by Mary’s neat appearance, she suspected that most Amish did not spend mornings hanging out in their jammies.

  “Maybe you should be sitting, after your fainting spell yesterday.” Mary nodded toward the corner of the kitchen, where a daybed was set up, well used but comfortable, covered by a clean blue blanket. “A seat by the potbellied stove is probably the warmest spot right now.”

  Remy added some milk to the mug, returned the pitcher to the refrigerator, and turned to take in the large but inviting room that seemed to serve as a combined kitchen and family room. The only decorations on the bright green walls were an old clock, a pinned-up calendar, and a small piece of embroidery that advised “Let God be your guide in an uncertain world.” A desk cluttered with papers sat in one corner, typical of any home. The furniture, an eclectic mix of styles, was plentiful and functional.

  Sinking into the daybed, Remy imagined that most of the family’s activities took place in this big, cozy kitchen, which she must have passed through while in her altered state last night. “Thank you for taking me in, Mary. I hope it didn’t put you out too much, having me here last night.”

  “We have plenty of beds, and you were sorely in need of a place to sleep.” Although Mary seemed friendly enough, Remy could tell that she didn’t share Sadie’s curiosity about and interest in the fancy life. With an efficiency of movement born from experience, Mary placed a cast-iron pan on the stove and added a slab of bacon. “So you’ve had seizures before?”

  “Yes, and sometimes I zone out for a day or two. But—it’s only Sunday?”

  “Sunday morning.”

  Remy was reassured. At least she didn’t miss an entire day, which had happened to her with some previous seizures. “That’s a relief. I’m just a little confused after collapsing like that.”

  “And it’s no wonder. Sadie said it was an awful spell.” Mary stepped away from the sizzling bacon.

  “So will everyone be going to church?”

  Mary turned back to tend the bacon. “It’s a day of rest, but we have our services every other week. Today is the in-between Sunday, a visiting day.”

  A visiting day? Who would come to visit? For a second Remy wondered who would visit her at home if Sunday were visiting day for her. Would Herb stop by? Wow, she would have to fly in one of her college friends.

  But that seemed like a silly comparison. Time to corral her thoughts. Sitting on the daybed in the heat radiating from the stove shaped like a pepper mill, Remy tucked her icy feet under her to warm and tried to work out the logistics of getting home. She could get a ride to her car, but then there was the matter of the long drive home. If yesterday’s collapse was a seizure, she knew she shouldn’t be driving.

  Remy adjusted the blanket on her shoulders and rubbed her temples. What a mess.

  “Are you all right?” Mary had turned away from the stove to face her.

  “I’m just trying to figure out a way home.”

  “Such a worry! And with you collapsing like that.” Mary waved a hand, as if swatting away Remy’s concerns. “Don’t be weighed down by such details now. We’ll be eating within the hour. If you’re feeling up to it, you can help out in the barn. Time is better spent working than worrying a hole in your heart.”

  “I’d like to help.” Remy rose, her feet planted firmly on the ground. Losing herself in some work was exactly what she needed.

  “You can fetch your clothes from the next room. They’re folded by the fire. I tried to warm them, but I didn’t want that fancy coat to burn.”

  Remy thanked her and hurried to fetch her clothes. She ducked into the downstairs bathroom, splashed some water onto her face, and pulled on her jeans and sweater. As there was only a scratched shaving mirror to the side of the sink, she finger-combed her hair and hoped she didn’t scare the cows with the impromptu look.

  As she returned to the kitchen, the porch door popped open and Ruthie ushered in two children. The small boy in a baggy jacket whose round face was framed by his hat stomped in bearing a silver pail.

  “Sammy, no!” Ruthie called from the porch room. “Your boots stay out here.”

  “Oh.” With wide eyes he crept back out the door, returning in blue-stockinged feet. “It’s a beautiful morning for eggs,” he said, holding up the bucket. “Lots of eggs, Mary.”

  “Eggs!” cried the red-cheeked girl who waddled in behind him. She tripped on the threshold, and her small bucket crashed to the ground.

  Remy winced at the sight of the falling toddler, who was quickly helped up by Mary. As the bucket began to roll to the side, Remy realized it was empty.

  “Yes, Katie has eggs, but it’s a good thing I’m carrying them,” Ruthie said as she placed a basket on the counter beside the sink.

  “Thank you, Samuel.” Mary accepted the bucket from the boy. “Now be a good boy and get the broom. You must sweep up the bits of dirt and hay you tracked in here. After that, the mudroom.”

  “Not sweeping.” He hung his head. “I did that yesterday.”

  “You must do as you’re told, and no whining.”

  With his lower lip protruding, he trudged to the mudroom.

  “What a good kid,” Remy remarked. “How old is he?”

  “Remy!” Ruthie clapped her hands together as she hurried to Remy’s side. “I didn’t see you there. How are you feeling this morning?” Ruthie’s question ended with her face almost nose to nose with Remy’s, a manner that Remy found endearing.

  “I got some good sleep, and I’m ready to be put to work. Mary, do you need some help here?”

  “I suppose they could use some help with the milking. Ruthie, why don’t you take her out to the barn.” Mary turned away from the counter, where she was cutting round biscuits from a sheet of dough. “And mind, you can borrow a pair of muck boots out on the porch. Mine should fit you, the ones by the door. We can’t have you ruining your Englisher shoes.”

  Out on the closed-in porch, the rubber boots held a chill as Remy slipped her feet into them. The cold was compounded by the brisk wind that greeted the girls when they stepped outside.

  “Whoa. I’m not sure how long I can last out here.” Remy hugged herself, rubbing her arms as she slogged behind the younger girl. Nervous excitement fluttered inside her as she considered the prospect of seeing Adam here, in his territory. She longed to talk with him, just for a few minutes alone, though she doubted that would be a possibility until after the milking. Whether or not she wrote about his family, she wanted to convince herself that she wasn’t part of the enemy.

  “Are you terribly cold?” Ruthie’s voice was laced with concern. “It won’t be too long. The barn is warmer.”

  “I’m okay. But about the barn …” Remy peered down at the girl. “I just want to warn you, I’ve never milked a cow before.”

  Ruthie giggled. “We’ll find something for you to do. When it’s milking time, we need every hand we can get. We got twelve cows that don’t like to wait!”

  SIXTEEN

  uthie, please go upstairs and find the Englisher girl. Tell her breakfast is almost ready.” Adam kicked off his boots, imagining that Remy McCallister might want to sleep through breakfast, but that was not something he could allow. The children were quite observant of the world on their farm, and he couldn’
t have her setting a bad example.

  Not even a visitor was free to indulge in the sin of laziness.

  “I’ll go to the stables and tell her,” Ruthie offered.

  “The stables?” Adam removed his hat, raking back his hair with one hand. “What is she doing there?”

  “Helping with the milking.”

  “But Sadie was to finish the milking.…” After Jonah had come galloping in on Jigsaw to report a hole in the fence, Adam had left the barn to help with repairs, leaving Sadie in charge. Now disapproval cloyed at him, a sour taste in the back of his throat. He couldn’t allow Remy to pull his sister from her duties.

  “The milking’s done. They’re just sending the last of the cows out to pasture. Remy tried to milk Daisy, and you should have seen it. Remy bellowed, worse than a cow!” The hand she pressed to her mouth to suppress a giggle did nothing to mask the amusement in her eyes. “She tried and tried, but couldn’t get a drop from Daisy. Sadie and I laughed so hard, it made my belly sore.”

  Adam felt himself smile, despite his sense of caution. It was good to see his younger sister caught up in fun. “Just let the girls know it’s time to get cleaned up for breakfast.”

  “I will, and I’ll be back in a wink.” Ruthie pulled a cloak over her shoulders before heading out the door. “Mary made biscuits!”

  “Everything is absolutely delicious, Mary,” Remy said as she broke off a small crumble of biscuit. “I don’t remember the last time I had this many carbs, but it’s worth it.”

  “Please, help yourself to whatever you like.” Mary turned to Adam, one eyebrow slightly cocked. “How are your carbs?”

  He nearly choked on a mouthful of crumbs. “Just fine.” Did Mary even know what a carb was? He picked up a crisp slice of bacon, trying to think of a way to close the gap between English and Amish. “Once I returned home, I stopped counting carbs and calories. With the chores we do, we burn it all up.”

  “That’s great.” Remy’s green eyes were thoughtful. “And I’ll bet you don’t have to work out at the gym, either.”

  “Not necessary,” Adam agreed. Shifting in his seat, he was reminded of how he’d grown lean again in the past year. Working the land, so close to God and His creations, honed the strength in a body. He was thankful for the newfound strength in his body … and a little self-conscious to think that Remy had noticed the changes in his appearance.

  Jonah shared his story about finding the broken fence in the back fields.

  “Were you able to mend it?” Mary asked.

  “We’re working on something to hold it until tomorrow,” Gabe explained. “A solid fix is a full day’s work, not something we want to start on a Sunday.”

  “I’m glad you found that before one of the animals wandered off,” Adam told Jonah, passing him the bread basket. “Here, brother Jonah. Extra biscuits for you.”

  Laughter broke out around the table as Jonah rubbed his flat belly. “Gee, thanks.”

  Beside him, Remy’s laugh seemed as natural as the shimmer of summer leaves. Despite her flowing coppery hair and her form-fitting sweater, she seemed to belong here at the table, at his right hand. It wasn’t about the way she looked, but about the overall feeling surrounding her. He could not remember seeing an Englisher fit so well at an Amish table.

  “I heard you had some fun milking the cows today, Remy,” Adam said.

  There were more giggles as Ruthie and Sadie exchanged a look.

  “I’ve never heard anyone moo to a cow before,” Ruthie said, her eyes shining with mirth.

  “Daisy will certainly never forget it,” Sadie said, recounting how Remy mooed to the cow, begging for milk.

  Remy pressed a napkin to her mouth, covering a smile. “Come on, guys. I tried my best.”

  The story of the obstinate Daisy led Jonah to recall how he’d once nearly been kicked by a cow who didn’t want to be milked. Sadie recalled how a swatting cow tail once drove a fly into her mouth. Soon everyone was contributing anecdotes of unfortunate incidents, how Gabe fell from the hayloft, and how Simon landed in a cow patty.

  Even Gabe was smiling as laughter swelled round the table. Remy’s presence changed the dynamic of their family breakfast, much for the better. Adam was surprised at how things had turned out; the air seemed lighter with Remy here.

  And she had been a very polite guest. He’d been surprised to learn she’d gotten out of bed to help with the milking, and she had bowed her head respectfully when they’d paused for silent thanks before the meal. Although he would not admit it aloud, Adam liked having her here at the table. He saw the way her eyes lit with tenderness when the children spoke. And from the family’s warm response, they seemed to appreciate her good humor, as well as her ability to listen.

  Too bad, but it was time for her visit to come to an end. Adam didn’t want to offend her, but he had to broach the topic of getting her a ride back to Philadelphia. Soon word would get out about her overnight visit, and he wanted to have it all in the past before the bishop or Preacher Dave approached him.

  “You know, last night it occurred to me that someone must have missed you when you didn’t return home last night,” Adam said. “I know you were a little out of it, but we could have made that call for you.”

  “No worries.” Remy broke off a piece of biscuit. “I’m a fairly independent person, and you couldn’t do much without a phone or cell service.”

  “But we do have a phone, down the road in the shanty,” Ruthie said. “We share it with the Zooks and Uncle Nate’s family.”

  “Oh. That must be good for emergencies,” Remy said, smiling at the young girl.

  They loved her. His younger sisters all smiled up at Remy with stars in their eyes. It would be hard to let her go, but it was his duty to keep the conversation on track. “Is there someone we can call today? Someone who can come and pick you up? The paramedics didn’t think it would be a good idea for you to drive yesterday, but …”

  “They were right.” She nodded. “You’re not supposed to drive after a seizure.”

  “Maybe your parents would like to take a ride out to Halfway,” Adam pressed. “They’re welcome to pick you up here.”

  “My mother is gone,” she said quickly. “She died when I was little … around Simon’s age.”

  Adam bit his lower lip. Did he know that? Maybe she had mentioned it when they’d met on that train. Although that had been barely a year ago, it seemed like he’d lived a hundred lifetimes in these past few months.

  “And Herb, my father, he … he doesn’t have the time to drive out here.” Her green eyes darkened with a hint of trouble as she looked down at the cinnamon apples on her plate. “But he’s sending a car for me. I got through on my cell. Do you know you have a lot of dead spots around here?”

  Adam nodded. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  “A driver should be here by noon.” Remy nudged Sadie. “That’ll give me time to help you in the barn, as promised. Then I’ll have to go.”

  “So soon? And here I thought you’d spend the afternoon with us,” Mary said brightly. “It’s our day for visitors, and while we’re expecting our Uncle Nate and Aunt Betsy and some of their family, there’s always room for more, and plenty of food. I spent most of yesterday afternoon baking those shoofly pies over there.”

  “Samuel baked pies, too.” Sam perked up, his chin barely clearing his plate as he held a fork in one tight fist. “And Katie used the ruler pin.”

  “The rolling pin, and yes, you were a wonderful good helper,” Mary said, patting the boy on the back.

  “Do you have to go?” Sadie turned from Remy to Adam, as if asking permission from him. “I mean, can’t you stay a little longer?”

  “I … I’d really like to stay.” Remy’s green eyes resembled exotic gems … full of light and hope.

  Adam blinked. Was he losing his mind? Seeing special qualities in a woman’s eyes. An Englisher woman, at that.

  “You’ve all been so kind and generous. I can’t than
k you enough for having me here,” Remy went on. “But I do have work in the morning. And I’ll have to see a doctor this week about … well, you know. There won’t always be someone nearby to catch me when I fall.” She gave Sadie a bump on the elbow, and to Adam’s surprise, Sadie bumped her back.

  Maybe this Englisher girl had been a good influence on Sadie, who had been drifting away in her rumspringa. Sometimes he worried about losing her, the way his parents had lost him.

  Still, it was good that Remy’s ride was on the way. Watching Remy talk with Mary about a recipe, he swallowed a mouthful of scrambled eggs as an old Amish saying came to mind. You can’t keep trouble from coming, but you don’t have to give her a room to stay in.

  SEVENTEEN

  he assembly line worked like a charm.

  Leah cleared. Susie scraped. Sadie washed. Remy dried. And Ruthie returned dishes to the lodestone green cupboards, gently replacing each cup and saucer as if it were the queen’s china.

  As Sadie immersed herself in the scrubbing, she launched into a hymn, and the other girls joined in, their young voices following the same notes with precise measure.

  Not knowing the German words, Remy couldn’t join in, but she was happy just to let their voices fall over her like a waterfall cascading over stones. Sadie’s voice was husky and rich, while the other girls sang with heartfelt emotion. Was it love for God she heard, or simply the warm comfort of being in a family that fit like a glove? Whatever the reason, Remy felt privileged to be a part of their work crew, if only for this once.

  When the song ended, Remy thrust her arms up, dish towel in one hand. “Bravo! You sound wonderful together.”

  “Sadie always makes us sing,” Leah said as she covered the biscuit basket with a checkered cloth. “And it’s permitted, as long as we sing hymns from the Ausbund.”

  Remy moved next to Sadie. “And you, Miss Sadie, have an amazing voice. Where did you learn to sing like that?”