A Simple Winter: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel

by Rosalind Lauer

  “Oops!” Ruthie’s eyes went wide. “There goes Mary’s nightgown.”

  Remy stepped back from the vat and flapped the damp fabric in the air. “That’s what I get for going out to the barn in a nightgown.”

  “Don’t worry. Mary will understand.” Ruthie picked up the empty bucket in one hand and assessed Remy with narrowed eyes. “Mary is just your size. I think she’ll loan you a dress you can wear while you’re out and about in the snow.”

  “That would be perfect.”

  “You’d better go back to the house,” Ruthie advised with grave authority. “You can’t sit at the breakfast table in a wet nightgown.”

  “You are so right.” The girl was wise beyond her years, Remy thought as she hitched up her nightgown, ducked out of the barn, and ran through the snowstorm, rubber boots flopping all the way back to the house.

  Breakfast was sausage and granola cereal and a scrambled egg casserole everyone called Hidden Eggs that smelled of melted butter. Wearing a deep purple dress that Mary generously loaned her, Remy sat at Adam’s right hand, but not before she noticed a new face at the far end of the table.

  “Remy, I don’t think you’ve met our grandmother, Nell King.” From Adam’s relaxed demeanor, Remy sensed genuine affection for his grandmother as he made the introduction.

  Remy gave a respectful nod. “I think we met at the market, but not officially.”

  “Ya, I remember.” The older woman nodded, the hint of a smile on her lips.

  “She lives in the Doddy house.” Sadie placed a pitcher on the table. “It’s the little cottage down the lane, just past the vegetable garden.” She said something to her grandmother in Pennsylvania Dutch and took the seat beside her.

  The older woman’s dark eyes, magnified by her spectacles, held a bit of amusement as she responded in kind. Remy suspected that their grandmother didn’t miss much.

  “I couldn’t open my door this morning. The snow was this high.…” Nell King lifted a hand above her head.

  “Oh, Mammi!” Susie’s eyes were bright with amusement as she took a seat. “Did you dig a tunnel to us?”

  “Jonah came to my aid. Jonah and his horse.”

  “The horses like the snow.” Jonah stepped in from the door of the porch. “The ice can be a problem, of course, but they can gain steady footing in the snow, and they’ve got a thick coat to protect them from the cold.”

  “The only thing is …” Simon held up one finger, capturing everyone’s attention. “You must make sure the horse’s legs are dry at the end of the day. They can get very sick from wet legs. Their legs get chapped and cracked, like our lips.”

  Adam nodded in approval. “Someone has been paying attention.”

  From the encouragement given to Simon, it was clear everyone in the family was pleased with his progress. To think that he hadn’t been able to speak more than a word or two just a year ago—it was a wonder that he’d come so far.

  Once everyone was seated, with Katie in the high chair, the meal progressed like the others Remy had attended.

  There was a moment of quiet as each person said a silent prayer of thanks. This time when Remy bowed her head, she felt words come from her heart. Thank you, dear God. Thank you for saving me from injury on that road last night. And thanks for sticking me with this noisy, big family. They’re like … the family I always wanted.

  Every word was true … true and startling as the white snow falling over the countryside. Putting aside the way she had landed here, it was a treat to be staying with the Kings. A dream fulfilled.

  In this short time Remy had gleaned a sense of their personalities and how they fit together to comprise a cohesive family. She learned that Simon loved working with the horses, especially his favorite, a shy mare named Shadow. In getting to know the family, she observed that Leah seemed happiest when lost in a book while her twin, Susie, avoided books like the plague. Sadie longed to escape the dairy farm for the changing world, while Gabe seemed angry about the possibility of changing even the way the family farmed. Already Remy knew she could rely on Ruthie, the family soothsayer, for the blunt truth, and Mary for genuine support.

  Just don’t get too attached, she told herself as she lifted her head to find Adam watching her.

  Could he read her thoughts and prayers? His piercing dark eyes seemed to have that power over her.

  She was grateful for the diversion when he passed her the platter of eggs. As far as attachment went, it was too late. She already cared, way too much, for Adam and his family.

  Platters were passed, and plans were made.

  “I just can’t take my eyes off that window.” Susie absently passed the bread Nell had baked. “Did you ever see anything so beautiful as snow?”

  “It’s truly a blessing.” Mary put a dollop of egg casserole on Katie’s tray and blew on it. “I love the feeling of being cozy and warm and surrounded by snow. And we’re so fortunate to have a full storeroom. Potatoes and canned produce and some dried meats.”

  “And it’s still snowing down,” Simon said. “Like God is sifting flour.”

  Amid the smiles, Remy marveled at how the Kings took it all in stride. Instead of complaining about extra chores or frigid temperatures, they were enjoying the snow.

  Nell reached for the apple butter. “My mother used to say that the angels were having a pillow fight.”

  “There are some extra snow chores to divvy up,” Adam said. “We need to dig a path to the Doddy house, and one to the barn. Either today or tomorrow we’ll need to ride the fences. We can’t have animals getting loose or stranded out in the snowdrifts. And there’s wood to be chopped.”

  Mary poured granola into a bowl and placed it on the tray in front of Katie’s high chair. “It’s the perfect day to do extra baking, and since the girls are all here, we might do some quilting so Remy can see how we do it.”

  Remy nodded as she broke off a crust of bread. “I would love that.”

  “Can we build a snowman?” Simon asked.

  Sam giggled. “And a snow boy!”

  “There’s plenty of snow for that, right in front of the Doddy house.” A smile appeared on their grandmother’s wrinkled face. “Enough to build a family of snowmen. Snow boys, too.”

  “We’ll take care of that snow, Mammi.” Gabe spread apple butter on a slice of bread. “Jonah and I will start shoveling, right after breakfast.”

  “Me too.” Simon’s amber eyes were bright. “As soon as I check on the horses.”

  Remy smiled. That was Simon, always thinking of the horses first. When she returned to the city, she would miss his sweetness, the genuine quality with which he approached everything.

  But return she must. As breakfast wound down, she thought of the BlackBerry in her coat pocket. Before its battery drained, she needed to get on the phone and find a towing service. Her snow day would soon be drawing to a close.

  Immersed in chores, the Kings were only slightly amused by Remy as she paced through the house in search of a signal for her cell phone. It took a while, but when she donned her coat and borrowed boots, she found a hot spot in front of the house, just up the lane by the cluster of snow-covered trees.

  Although her cell phone was beeping from low battery, she managed to get through to a towing service in Lancaster.

  “Are you in a safe place, ma’am?”

  Remy looked back at the house, the lights of the kerosene lamps providing a cozy glow against the white roof and lawn. “Yes, I’m safe.”

  “Then stay where you are. My guys can’t make it out that far today.”

  “Why not?”

  “Have you seen the forecast?” Annoyance seeped into the woman’s voice. “Record snowfall … blizzard … freezing temperatures?”

  “Oh.” Actually, Remy hadn’t seen the forecast, as a tow truck had been her first priority.

  “Some of the main roads are already closed out where you are. Call me back in a few days, when it starts to clear, and we’ll fix you right up,” t
he woman promised.

  “A few days?” Remy stared out at the curtain of snow. “Won’t they have trucks out clearing this?”

  The woman laughed.

  As soon as she hung up, Remy called the office and left a voice mail for Yasmina saying that she was snowbound in Lancaster County, but everything was okay. As she asked her friend to let the boss and her father know she was safe, the beeping persisted. The battery was draining, and there were no outlets on the farm to recharge it. She thought about trying to save the battery, but decided to put through one last call to Herb.

  As the ring tone sounded, her phone jingled and the screen went black. Dead.

  Blizzard warnings … Road closures …

  Adam had been right, again.

  She turned to the house and gave herself a shake, amused as fat white clumps shuddered from her hair and shoulders. Snow crunched under the rubber boots as she descended the lane, smiling amid the shower of endless flakes.

  The good news: She was safe here. The Kings were warm and welcoming. She would be close to Adam.

  The bad news: She would be close to Adam. That one was a double-edged sword.

  There was also the concern that she might have another seizure without her medication. She would try and get sleep and hope for the best.

  And she would have to abandon her article. There was no way she could write a story about the Kings now that she had embraced their family and been accepted in return. She had passed through the wall of professionalism and could no longer write an objective story. And part of her didn’t really care anymore.

  Outside the porch, Remy stomped her feet and gave a shake to get the snow off before pulling open the door.

  Inside, Sadie hummed as she swept a pile of dried leaves and dirt into a dustpan. “Everything okay?”

  Remy slid her phone into the pocket of her leather jacket and zipped it away. “It looks like I’m staying for a few days.”

  “Yes!” Sadie’s arms shot into the air, broom waving as she did a little happy dance.

  Remy pressed a hand to her chest in feigned shock. “You are too much!”

  “I know, I know. But I was beginning to feel trapped, thinking I wouldn’t be able to get away to work or to see Frank. I have another life out there, and sometimes it’s hard to be sister Sadie, slogging away at the laundry and mopping floors. But having you here is going to make being snowbound bearable.”

  “Denki,” Remy said. “But I need to ask, does your cell phone work here? Mine is out of battery.”

  “I—oops.” Sadie pressed a hand to her mouth. “I left mine at the hotel. It was on the cord, charging up, and when I left in the storm, I was so rattled, I forgot it.”

  “Oh. I’m sure it’s safe,” Remy said.

  Sadie nodded. “But I wish I had it with me. How will I reach Frank?”

  “Forget about Frank, at least for now.” Remy put a hand on her shoulder. “From what I hear, no one is going anywhere for the next few days. That’s a whopper blizzard out there!”

  “A whopper?” Sadie leaned her broom against the wall. “Then I thank God Adam found you last night. This is God’s blessing.”

  Hugging her friend, Remy realized that Sadie was right.

  God was showering them with a blessing. She only hoped that Adam saw it the same way.

  THIRTY-THREE

  soft sound woke her.

  Remy stirred, savoring the contrast between the cool air around her face and the cozy glow in the burrow beneath the quilt.

  Smoothing her fingertips over the finely sewn patches of the quilt, she remembered where she was, a dawning realization that lightened her heart.

  The day had passed quickly, full of activity and conversation and hearty, delicious foods. She’d helped sweep the house and hang laundry before bundling up in borrowed clothes to help the little ones build snowmen—an effort that might be buried at this point by the new snow that had fallen steadily through the day and evening. In the afternoon the girls had baked buttery pretzels, then quickly cleared the table so that they could get some quilting done before supper.

  She yawned. What time was it?

  From the darkness outside the windows she could see it was still night, though the hour or so of sleep had taken the edge off the exhaustion of a day spent in physical labor.

  There was that shuffle in the hall again, the sound of light footsteps.

  Curious, she propped herself up and glanced over at the other sleeping girls. No one else seemed disturbed. Heavy sleepers, Mary had said.

  Remy slid out of bed, her bare feet curling as they touched the cold floor. Snow outside the window cast an odd blue sheen over the darkness, hardly enough to light her way.

  “Wait! Don’t go down there!” The hissing voice came from the hall, where she made out the form of a small person pacing nervously.

  “Simon?” She squinted, but it was too dark to make out his features.

  “Please, Dat, don’t go down there! He’s very angry!”

  Suddenly a circle of light appeared down the hall. A lantern. The tall figure carrying it was dressed in a long nightshirt and britches.

  “Adam?”

  He nodded as he joined Remy. “Sorry if he woke you.” Adam’s voice was husky with sleep, as if he had just been awakened.

  In the light cast by the lantern she was able to see Simon’s face as he paced, his eyes glassy and frantic. His hands gestured stiffly as he sounded warnings, some indecipherable to Remy.

  The boy looked haunted, terrified.

  “Simon, what’s wrong, sweetie?” She went over to him, planting herself in his path, but he sidestepped her, continuing to rant.

  “Simon suffers night terrors. The doctors think he’ll outgrow them, but for now …”

  “Dat, please!” the boy wailed, his voice racked by sobs. “Please don’t leave—!”

  “Oh, Simon …” Remy went to the boy and rubbed his back between the shoulder blades. “Honey, can you wake up?”

  This time, instead of avoiding Remy he spun toward her, grabbed her by the wrists, and stared into her face. “Don’t go down there. I’m telling you, he has a gun!”

  Terror burned in his round eyes.

  Remy’s pulse raced wildly, but she fought for control. She had some experience with night terrors, but then it was different when you were on the other side.

  “Simon, it’s going to be okay.” She stared directly into his eyes, though they seemed vacant. “Everything’s all right. Can you hear me?”

  He turned away from her and lunged toward the far wall. “I’m just so afraid for Dat!”

  “Hold this.” Adam handed the lantern to Remy, then approached the boy, sliding an arm over his shoulders. “It’s okay, buddy.”

  “No! No, Dat!” Simon turned and slapped at the wall. “No!”

  “You’re going to hurt yourself.” Adam squatted down in front of him, hands on the boy’s shoulders, and pulled him close. “Do you want to get warm? Should we warm you up?”

  With a sob, Simon collapsed against his older brother.

  “Downstairs.” Adam took the boy in his arms and rose to his full height. “It usually helps to get him out of it if we make a fire in the potbellied stove.”

  Without hesitation she gathered the skirt of the nightgown in one hand, lifted the lantern with the other, and led the way down the stairs.

  They worked together with barely a word passed between them. While Adam added wood to the stove, Remy tended to Simon, who lay shivering on the daybed.

  The poor boy’s body was racked with tremors. She quickly unfolded a quilt and wrapped it around him. His little face was still puckered with tension, his lips mumbling indecipherable warnings.

  “Oh, Simon, it’s hard on you.” Remy settled beside him, stroking his hair. “I know it’s hard, sweetie.”

  When Remy was ten, she, too, had paced the halls at night with a wild look in her eyes. Not that she remembered details from those nocturnal ramblings, but she’d had a capable
nanny who was well versed in child behavior and knew that night terrors were a normal part of growth for some children.

  It had been years since she’d seen her nanny Fatima, a soft-hearted, buxom woman who had no qualms about speaking her mind to Herb when it came to defending Remy.

  Adam closed the grate on the stove and took a seat in a chair opposite the daybed. “Thank you.” His eyes flicked over to Simon, whose chest now rose and fell in deep breaths. “He’s been suffering these terrors for the past few months.”

  “How often?”

  “A few times a week. Sometimes every night.”

  “And they usually happen around an hour after he goes to sleep?”

  Adam nodded. “Sounds like you know a thing or two about night terrors.”

  “Been there, done that. Although in my case, I was the patient. My nanny put up with these episodes nearly every night for a while.”

  “Your nanny? You really are a princess, aren’t you?”

  “No … Fatima made it clear, I was not royalty.” She closed her eyes and smiled at the thought of Fatima, with her wide girth, chocolate brown skin, and jangling bracelets, telling Remy that she was “no princess, and this is no castle, so you’ll be picking up after yourself today.”

  “Still, I’m very grateful for the things that she taught me. I still love Fatima. She was there for me when I needed a mother, and she made me part of her family. Sometimes, when my father was away, we would go to visit with her family—there were baptisms and communions—and that was so much fun.” Fatima’s relatives had been the only family Remy knew for a few years, and they weren’t legally related. Fatima used to say, “We are all part of God’s big family.”

  She stroked the boy’s back, running her hand over the crevice between his two shoulder blades. “He’s fast asleep now.”

  “Warming him up always brings him out of the terror. I suppose it’s soothing.”

  “That makes sense. For me, Fatima said she had to turn all the lights on in the house. Apparently the bright light snapped me back to reality.”