A Simple Winter: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel

by Rosalind Lauer

  “I just thought it would be fun for them.” Remy peeked out around a dress she’d just hung. “Considering the way they enjoyed riding in the limo last time.”

  “Your kindness is appreciated, but riding around in cars for fun is not how we choose to live.” For a second she thought of the three men seated at their table after Remy’s visit, Uncle Nate and the bishop and the preacher. Would Remy be upset to learn that they had voiced some disapproval over Sadie and the others riding in the big white car?

  “Am I pushing too far?” Remy asked. “I apologize if—”

  “No need to be sorry. It’s just that there’s a reason for living Plain. We hire cars when we have to, but we don’t own them. Electricity is forbidden, and yet we have a gas-powered washer and tools. It may seem contradictory, but it’s a matter of sticking to a slower pace and keeping worldliness separate from our lives.” Mary moved away from the washer and pressed a hand to her lips as she glanced up at Remy. “I don’t mean to preach.”

  Remy shook her head. “It helps me to understand. But when I was here last time, it didn’t seem like a problem for the kids to ride in the car.”

  “Our bishop does not condemn modern things, but we don’t want to be a slave to machines. We want to control the technology we use. So we hire cars when we have a distance to travel. Sadie and Gabe travel by scooters, but our order doesn’t use bicycles. The bishop says that even bikes can take you too far from home. Too far from the things that matter.”

  “Too far from family,” Remy said as she smoothed the bodice of a dress on the line. “I get that.”

  Mary lifted a sopping-wet dress from the rinse water. “But Adam and Susie, they could have used your car today.”

  Remy squinted as she pinned a shirt to the line. “What do you mean?”

  “With Susie’s doctor some twelve miles away, it’s more than an hour each direction.”

  Remy gaped. “And they didn’t hire a car?”

  “We have in the past, but it’s a manageable trip, and Susie is happy to miss school. Not the student, that one.” Mary rose, not wanting to gossip about her sister. It had been a while since she’d had a companion to help her with chores, and she had never worked alongside an English person.

  When Remy had decided to wait here, she had anticipated that the girl would bide her time chatting or lazing by the fire until Adam arrived.

  As far as Mary was concerned, Adam was the real reason Remy McCallister was here today. She had seen them together by the paddock that cold Sunday afternoon. She had watched from the kitchen window as the two of them talked up close, like a couple. Mary had been sure to turn away from the window as they’d embraced, and she hadn’t slipped a word of it to anyone. Not even Five, whom she usually shared everything with. But it was upsetting, seeing Adam take a step back. He needed an Amish wife, not a girlfriend from the fancy world.

  Watching from the corner of her eye as Remy shook out a dress, Mary had to admit the girl was a good worker and a cheerful one at that. There was a light in her eyes, a certain glimmer that reminded Mary of her mamm, who used to find joy in everything from cooking to washing to digging in the dirt to thin her vegetable garden. “You do good work, Remy.”

  “Thanks, but I sense that I’m learning from the master.” Remy pointed a clothespin at her. “Honestly, with eleven people, how do you stay on top of all the household chores? Cooking and cleaning and laundry …”

  “A full day is a good day, and look at what we’ve accomplished.” Mary gestured to the hanging clothes.

  “A virtual forest of clothes,” Remy said.

  “Work is good for the soul, and it’s good training for a young girl. After this, I know I’m ready for …” Mary stopped herself short of admitting she was ready to start her own family; that was a private matter between Five and her.

  “Girl, with training like this you are ready to take on half the state of Pennsylvania. Correction: the entire state.”

  Mary couldn’t help but grin at Remy’s joke. Her presence was a pleasant surprise this afternoon. “There’s one more load of laundry to do, but with your help it will be finished with time to spare. I was thinking of baking a batch of buttermilk cookies.”

  “Are you kidding me? Baking is a favorite pastime of mine. Well, it would be if I had someone to bake for.”

  That struck Mary as sad. No one to care for? “Then today your prayers have been answered. You may bake for eleven people who will surely come home hungry and eager for sweets.”

  “A captive audience.” Remy pressed a hand to her heart. “This is going to be a very good day.”

  TWENTY-SIX

  eaning over a gargantuan mixing bowl, Remy worked at softening butter and sugar with a wooden spoon. Aside from the ticking of the wall clock, the gentle breathing of the sleeping children was the only sound in the King kitchen, and Remy smiled at the true peace and quiet that hovered in the house. This was something she would love to capture for her story.

  A portrait of Amish life …

  That was how she planned to pitch the article when she spoke with Adam. A quaint piece, with a few updates on how the family was recovering from tragedy.

  The door closed gently as Mary came in, her cheeks tinged pink from the cold. “Three eggs, fresh from the henhouse. You’ll want to add them once the butter and sugar are creamed.”

  “Just give me one more minute.” Remy gritted her teeth and put some muscle into her task. As she stirred, she tried to formulate a question that would not offend Mary. “You know, I met Adam a year ago, just after your parents died.”

  “A dark time,” Mary said as she placed a bottle of vanilla on the counter.

  “So much has changed for him in the past year. How do you think he’s dealing with it? His return home from a very different world, and taking on the responsibilities of running the farm.”

  “It can’t be an easy position Adam has landed in, suddenly head of our family.” Mary cracked an egg into the bowl, then stood back as Remy stirred. “But it will be much easier when he has a wife. I’ll be relieved when he finally asks Annie Stoltzfus to marry him.”

  The words slowed Remy’s heartbeat to a sickening pace. Adam was going to get married? Married to a girl named Annie … Remy couldn’t deny the disappointment that pressed on her at the thought of Adam being in love with someone else. The spark between them, the connection—had she imagined it?

  Remy pursed her lips, stirring viciously for a second. “I didn’t know Adam had a girlfriend.”

  “Actually, there are a few Amish girls interested in my brother right now.” Mary frowned, her fingers nervously checking the pins on her apron. “The thing is, Adam needs to marry an Amish woman. The bishop, the congregation, and most of Halfway are waiting on him to do the right thing, and soon. If he’s to take care of our family, he needs a wife. An Amish wife, of course.”

  “Of course.” Remy nearly choked on the words as Mary’s description of her brother’s situation loomed in her mind, a portrait of Adam. This was a twenty-four-year-old man enmeshed in another world, committed to his family, sworn to follow a lifestyle completely alien to hers. They lived in two separate worlds, with little in common.

  And she had come here as a journalist with the goal of writing a story that would help the King family. She hadn’t come here to stalk Adam King, and the sooner she separated her feelings from this story, the better off she’d be.

  “Hold on while I add the last two eggs,” Mary said, interrupting Remy’s thoughts. “The way you’re stirring, you’ll whip it into a froth.”

  Remy stopped stirring and stepped back from the bowl, as if it had stung her.

  “You’re a good worker, Remy. I’m always glad to have help in the kitchen,” Mary said as she cracked another egg.

  Remy was glad to change the subject. “It’s been so long since I had a reason to bake, but I’ve always liked it. I used to make things with my mother. I was only seven when she died, but I remember baking cookies. My job w
as to sprinkle in the chocolate chips. And we used to make little balls of dough on the bowl of the spoon. Cookie drops, I called them.”

  “The smells and sights of a kitchen are good for a thousand memories.” Mary began to measure a teaspoon of baking powder. “Our mamm always had us helping in the kitchen. She had special recipes for certain occasions, like pecan rolls for Christmas morning or rhubarb pie in the spring. No-bake oatmeal turtles for a funeral. And everyone likes the traditional wedding rolls.”

  “And you’re carrying on her traditions.” Remy tried to focus on the positive. If she focused on the article, maybe the queasy feeling about Adam would fade. She waited as Mary measured baking soda into the bowl, then made eye contact. “So what occasion are buttermilk cookies for?”

  Mary touched a finger to her chin. “Let’s see. That would be those days when you’ve got a few cups of buttermilk that the children won’t drink. I’ll add the sour milk.” She patted the lid of an airtight container the size of a bucket. “You add eight cups of flour.”

  “Eight cups. Are you kidding?”

  “We have a dozen mouths to feed,” Mary reminded her.

  “I know, but eight cups?” As Remy dipped the plastic measuring cup into the bin and leveled it off with a knife, she was struck by the tradition of cooking in this room where the clean linoleum floor had been worn thin by countless footsteps and the old wooden table behind her was scarred from years of use. It was loaded with family history, something that did not exist in the McCallister family.

  There was a legacy here that could not be extinguished by death, even the deaths of two parents.

  Remy measured the third cup, choosing her words carefully. “Just thinking about our moms. My mother died of heart failure, but there’s still a mystery surrounding your parents. Do you ever wonder what happened to them? Are you curious about what went on that night on the roadside?”

  “It’s not something I think about.” Mary poured a cup of buttermilk into the bowl. “Worrying through the details won’t bring Mamm and Dat back.”

  “What about justice for the person who hurt them?”

  “There is no justice on earth.” Mary shook her head. “Only God can mete out judgment and punishment. For the man who killed them, I pray for peace. I pray that he might one day know God’s love.” Mary stepped up to the bowl and began to stir, her jaw set, a stern look in her eyes.

  The air in the kitchen had changed. Looking behind her at the daybed, Remy was grateful that the children were still asleep.

  “Can I ask, do you have any idea who the killer was?” Remy asked quietly. “Do you think it’s someone your parents knew?”

  “I can’t fathom that we might know a human being capable of such evil.” Mary’s eyes held a dark expression as she stared down into the giant bowl and worked the dough. “My parents had no enemies, but I do know one thing for sure deep down in my heart. It was not Simon who killed them. Those rumors of my little brother gone mad were ridiculous.”

  “He was just a kid.” Remy shook her head. “Why would anyone even think that?”

  “Something about the gun in the buggy. Our dat had taken Simon shooting that day, target practice, so it got people to thinking, as he knew how to handle a gun.” Mary capped off the buttermilk. “But anyone who would say something like that doesn’t know our Simon. He’s a good boy. You should see the way he takes care of the horses, how he minds the chickens.”

  “I’ve met Simon. He seems like a good kid.”

  “Only eight years old when it happened, and after the torment he went through, he still suffers at night.” Mary stopped stirring and rapped the spoon on the bowl’s edge. “No child should have to endure such pain, and Simon, he would never harm another person. Not our Simon.”

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  ook at that!” Susie pointed to a car parked near the house as Adam turned the gray carriage down the lane. “We have a visitor. More people to share the good news with.” The delight that lit her face was typical of Susie. “Sunflower Susie,” Mamm used to call her.

  “That’s true,” Adam said as he slowed the horse. Sister Susie had a knack for finding the potential for fun in everything. An endearing quality, though sometimes he felt that it was his duty to keep her tethered to the earth.

  “I’m so very happy about the test results. I’ve been feeling fine, but it’s wonderful good to hear Dr. Trueherz say it.”

  “Good news, indeed, and I know you worked hard to stick to your diet, Susie girl. We’re all proud of you.”

  Her face lifted to the pale winter sun, much like a sunflower in July. “I’m so happy, and I can’t wait to share it with everyone.”

  Adam smiled as his attention strayed momentarily to the car. Did it belong to Sadie’s Englisher boyfriend, the one she’d been hiding all these weeks? A weekday afternoon wasn’t really appropriate courtship time, but he supposed it would be good for him to meet the guy. Better the devil you know than the devil you don’t.

  “I’ll help you unhitch Thunder,” Susie offered when he halted the carriage beside the car. “That way we can go in together with a burst of good news!”

  “Sounds like a plan.” As they worked together on the quick task, it struck him that fourteen-year-old Susie had been forced to grow up over the past year. Granted, the whole family had been challenged in new ways, but for Susie that meant an end to Mamm’s tender loving care for her condition. Susie was coming along, but for Adam the responsibility of taking her for her checkups with Dr. Trueherz reminded him of the parental role he’d taken on. It reminded him of the cloud of loss that still hung over the farm every day, the absence of Mamm and Dat.

  While Susie took Thunder to the pasture, he hung the harness up in the tack room. When he emerged from the barn, his sister waved at him, running toward the house.

  “I’ll race you there!” she shouted.

  Adam picked up his step, breaking into a jog. The sight of Susie, hearty and healthy, her cheeks tinged pink from running in the cold, eased his heart. Mamm and Dat would have been proud of her. In moments like this, that cloud of sorrow lifted.

  She bounded in through the mud porch, turning back to tease him. “I win, but you didn’t try very hard, I could tell.”

  “I’ll take you next time,” he said as the warm air and sweet aroma of freshly baked cookies welcomed them into the kitchen. Katie and Sam knelt on benches, trying to spoon cookie dough onto trays, with the help of Mary and another woman seated between the kids, holding the spoon for Katie.

  Brilliant colors glowed in the lamplight: the orange copper of her hair, the turquoise and blue stripes of her sweater.

  Remy McCallister.

  He paused, wondering for a moment if he’d wished her here.

  Then Susie let out a shout with the good news that Dr. Trueherz was thrilled with her numbers, and suddenly it was like Christmas morning. As Susie and Mary chatted, Adam nodded to Remy, who nodded back. He couldn’t stop smiling, but then this was a happy moment for his sister so he figured that was all right.

  Hearing the stir of excitement, Gabe, Jonah, and Simon came in from the barn to share in the news. The room brimmed over with the sounds of bright conversation and Susie’s favorite clapping game, the smells of buttery dough baking in the oven, and the warmth from the potbellied stove.

  Such a joyous scene that Adam stood by the doorway for a time and watched it unfold, wishing he could ignore the one thing wrong with this picture. Remy, who always managed to fill a room with light and laughter, did not belong here. She lived a fancy life, a world she would return to soon, leaving this happy scene to fade in their memories.

  Why had she come here?

  Back in the city market she’d made some excuse about buying a quilt, but plenty of customers purchased quilts through the family business without stepping foot in the house or even in the town of Halfway.

  Part of him wanted to believe she had come to see him. That she recognized the undercurrent that swirled between them and had
to act on it in some way. He liked the theory that she’d followed him here because she couldn’t get enough of him, couldn’t get him off her mind, which was sort of the way he felt about her. But then, it was a little arrogant to think that his personal magnetism had drawn her here. That line of thinking would lead him toward hochmut, the sin of pride.

  He folded his arms, watching Remy carry Katie to the sink to help her wash dough from her hands. The children were taking to her like bees to honey. All the more reason to send her off, quickly, before she broke their little hearts.

  He grabbed a towel, crossed to the sink and tended to wiping Katie’s hands as Remy lowered her to the stool. “I can finish that for you. Don’t want to keep you here if you want to hit the road before dark,” he said.

  It wasn’t a warm reception, and he did not intend it to be.

  But Remy didn’t pick up on his brusque tone. One eyebrow rose as she shifted to the other foot, her hips swaying in the process. An innocent move, though it reminded him that he was a man. “Oh, I’m not leaving yet,” she said. “Mary invited me to stay for dinner, and since it smells so good, I can’t resist.”

  “You’re staying for dinner?” Adam asked. “Aren’t you worried about the storm headed this way?”

  “They’re not predicting any precipitation until tomorrow morning.” She tapped her pocket. “I keep checking my BlackBerry, and the forecast hasn’t changed.”

  Adam sat down on the bench beside Katie, resigned to a few hours of torture. “I’d be careful if I were you. These back roads can get pretty icy.”

  “Relax. I’ll be ahead of the bad weather, and that stew smells amazing.”

  “And Remy needs to talk with you,” Mary added. “That’s why she came all this way.”

  “That, and Sadie,” Remy said, wiping Katie’s nose and helping her down to the floor.

  “Talk? Now’s as good a time as any.” He held out one hand, gesturing for her to begin.

  She laughed. “Not now. I was thinking of a more private conversation. Besides, Susie’s news is very exciting, and I wouldn’t want to walk out on the celebration.” She sank down onto the bench beside him, lowering her voice. “But I was wondering about this ‘condition’ everyone keeps talking about. What does Susie have?”