A Simple Winter: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel

by Rosalind Lauer

  And Adam didn’t have the first clue about her problem.

  Her jaw was still set with resentment as she toed off her sneakers on the screened-in porch, ignoring the clatter of the kitchen where one breakfast shift was finishing. She swung the basket of eggs through the kitchen doorway, nearly mowing down her younger brother Simon, who was about to leave for school.

  His eyes were as wide as quarters as he held his lunch cooler against him. “What’s the matter, Sadie? You remind me of a charging bull.”

  Sadie sucked a breath in through her teeth and shook her head. “Never mind.” She put the basket of eggs on the counter with a thump that brought a stern look from her older sister, Mary. “You’ll understand when you get older.”

  “Older folk always say that to me, but I don’t think so.” Simon took his straw hat from a peg on the wall. “I don’t think I’ll ever understand.”

  “A wise boy,” Jonah said, pressing his own hat to his chest. Twenty-three-year-old Jonah was only a year younger than Adam, but very different, with a quiet manner and a true knack for farming. “And you’re probably right, Simon. I don’t think we’ll ever understand the goings-on in a woman’s head.”

  Simon hid a grin behind the brim of his hat, and Sadie couldn’t help but crack a smile. Such a tender heart, their Simon. It was always good to see merriment in his eyes.

  “Off with you now, or you’ll be late for school,” Mary said, shooing Simon out the door. “I reckon Ruthie and Leah are already halfway down the lane.”

  “But I’m a fast runner. Don’t forget, I run with the horses.”

  “Let’s see how fast,” Jonah said, stepping out the door behind Simon.

  “Good thing they’re gone,” Sadie said, sorting through the eggs. “Simon is so attached to Adam, I didn’t want to say anything in front of those young ears, but Adam is picking on me again. We got into it right in front of the Doddy house, and Mammi was none too happy about it.”

  Mary let out a breath as she nodded toward the egg basket. “There’s a crack on that one. Quarreling with Adam or not, you’ve got to take it easy with the eggs. Next time take your anger out in the cowshed. Manure doesn’t break.”

  “It’s only two that cracked,” Sadie said as she gently transferred the eggs. “I’ll cook them now. Scrambled or fried?”

  “Scramble them, and I’ll add them to the sausage casserole. That’ll help me stretch it out. Simon and Ruthie had big appetites this morning. They must be having a growth spurt.” Mary turned the flame up under the coffee. “And what were you and Adam going round about this fine spring morning?”

  Sadie’s lips hardened. “What don’t we fight about? He made it my chore to take Susie to see Dr. Trueherz, and I don’t mind that one bit, but if I go, I’m going to be late for my job at the hotel. And Adam doesn’t care one bit.”

  “Oh, Sadie.” Mary glanced up from the stove, her brown eyes heavy with sympathy. “Why is it so hard for you to follow Adam’s rules and decisions? He’s the head of the household now, and the weight of it all is heavy on his shoulders. You know he doesn’t want to argue with you.”

  “I know that.” Sadie felt her spirits sag. She never wanted to cause trouble, but somehow, when she tried to reason with Adam, she always managed to step right into it. “But he could have told me about Susie’s appointment earlier in the week. I could have talked to my boss at the hotel.”

  Mary just nodded. “That’s all water under the bridge. What worries me is you and Adam. Storm clouds darken the sky overhead whenever you two speak.”

  Sadie snickered at the notion of black clouds following Adam and her. “You’re right. We’re always butting heads, and I don’t know what to do about it.”

  “We’ll pray to the Heavenly Father for peace in our house. I know you don’t mean to stir the pot, but mind you keep quiet when Adam gives an order. I shouldn’t have to tell you that Adam’s decisions are more important than your boss at the hotel.”

  Sadie nodded. This she knew, but she was always juggling so many things—her music and her chores, her job at the hotel and her English boyfriend—sometimes her sense of order wasn’t so clear.

  “Now, open that jar of peaches while I get the biscuits before they burn. In a few weeks we’ll have fresh cherries and peaches. Spring fruits.”

  “Spring is my favorite season,” Sadie said.

  “Because of the fruit?”

  “Because of the new life everywhere. Remember how Dat used to get so excited when the birds came back?”

  “Back from their winter vacation down south, he used to say.” Mary’s face glowed with the memory.

  Their dat had taught them to respect all God’s creatures, and though he’d been gone for more than a year now, Sadie still felt Gott’s peace when she worked their farm—the peace their father had opened their eyes to.

  Sadie missed her parents, but she was grateful for all they had taught her. If Dat had shown them peace, Mamm had helped Sadie delight in song. Was Sadie the only one who remembered the sweet lullabies Mamm had sung for them when they were babies, with a voice as fresh and smooth as a spring wind?

  “Tell me why the stars do shine,” she sang as she broke the seal on the peaches.

  Without looking up, Mary joined in. “Tell me why the ivy twines. Tell my why the sky’s so blue. And I will tell you just why I love you.”

  If Sadie closed her eyes she could almost hear Mamm’s voice chiming in. Mamm had taught her how music could make the most boring chore pass quickly, and they had spent many an hour in this very kitchen singing together.

  “Because God made the stars to shine,” the sisters sang together.

  As she put the peaches on the table, Sadie’s eyes combed the mouth-watering breakfast Mary had prepared for this second shift of the day, after the children under fifteen had eaten and headed out to school. Sausage and egg casserole. Biscuits. Peppers and peaches from the pantry.

  Sadie felt a sudden swell of tenderness for the older sister who had stepped in to care for their household after Mamm had died. Mary took care of everyone in so many ways, always guided by a calm that kept peace in their home. But come wedding season, Mary would be starting a home with her beau, Five, on the Beilers’ farm.

  “Sadie?” The song had ended and Mary stood staring, oven mitts on her hands. “What’s the matter?”

  “Oh, Mary, what will we do without you around here?”

  Mary patted her shoulder with the puffy mitt. “I’m not going far. And we know it’s all part of the Heavenly Father’s plan for me to leave this house. Remy’s going to be moving in, and you’re a mighty good cook yourself, when you don’t get too lost in all your singing.”

  Lost in her singing … lately Sadie had spent so much time in her music, practicing with the band or singing in the barn. Funny, but it was far easier to imagine herself singing on a stage in front of people than cooking up an entire breakfast like this.

  And that thought tugged at her conscience as she went to the porch to call the others for breakfast. Here on the farm, work was proper and good. Her faith gave meaning to every sunrise, every blooming violet. And the close bond of family showed her that she belonged here.

  Not singing to strangers in the big city.

  ROSALIND LAUER grew up in a large family in Maryland and began visiting Lancaster County’s Amish community as a child. She attended Wagner College in New York City and worked as an editor for Simon & Schuster and Harlequin Books. She currently lives with her family in Oregon, where she writes in the shade of towering two-hundred-year-old Douglas fir trees.

 

 

 
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