A Simple Winter: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel (17 page)

Sadie cut in, plucking Remy’s hand from his sleeve and cradling it in her own hands. “Of course you’re going home with us.” She wheeled on Adam. “What did you tell her?”

“It’s not right, Sadie. It won’t look right.”

Sadie’s eyes flared with resolve. “Stop thinking people are so interested in what you’re doing, Adam, and think of someone else. For once.”

Behind her, Remy began to break down. “I’m just so tired. So tired and …” Remy’s shoulders shook as a sob broke her voice. “I need to go home.”

“There, now. Don’t you worry about a thing.” Sadie tucked the handbag on Remy’s lap and patted the girl’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry, now. We’ll take good care of you.” She pressed her cheek to Remy’s and gave her a squeeze.

The sight of his sister hugging Remy, a virtual stranger, was a dagger through Adam’s heart. Had he forgotten the meaning of his baptismal vow? Was he so caught up with gaining approval from his uncle and church leaders that he was going to abandon someone in need? Especially when that someone was Remy—his angel.

Of course they had to help.

How could he have even considered turning her away, just because a few idle tongues might wag over what looked like an impropriety?

He met Sadie’s determined gaze with a nod. “I’ll go hitch up the carriage.”

he screech of an animal made Remy roll over.

A rooster?

She must be having some whopping dream. When a second squeal nudged her from sleep again, she stretched and realized she was not in her apartment. The air was cool and it smelled of brewing coffee. Her hand moved under the sheets, brushing against a soft flannel nightgown. The bed beneath her was firm and a little lumpy, and the pearly light of a winter morning permeated the small, tidy room.

Although her mouth was dry and her brain felt a little like it was stuffed with cotton, she could piece together parts of yesterday’s scenario.

The spell at the Amish market.

Just thinking of it made her feel overwhelmed. One minute she was sitting at the table, and the next strange men were peering in her face, asking her questions that didn’t make any sense to her.

Had someone called 911? She thought she remembered being
on a stretcher, an oxygen mask strapped to her face. And she remembered telling people she had to get home.

Opening her eyes, she was certain that she had not driven back to Philadelphia. Judging by the colorful quilts and the sparse furnishings in the room, she had spent the night in Amish country. She propped herself on her elbows for a look. The walls were painted a dusky pink hue that gave the room a cozy feel, despite the fact that nothing hung on the wall but hooks with white bonnets and solid-colored jumpers. And the beds … there were six single beds, three on each side of the room, reminding Remy of a cabin at summer camp.

Thinking back to yesterday, she recalled the oh-so-important thing that had driven her … the interview? It didn’t seem quite as crucial right now.

Because … the other reporters. Now she remembered. Adam had been furious with them. Angry and worried that they might come after his younger siblings, that they might frighten Simon.

She flopped back onto the bed, a vision of Adam floating in her mind, and she could almost see his dark, intense eyes and feel the powerful energy that sometimes robbed her of breath. Seeing him had been bittersweet, the joy of being with him diminished by her own self-loathing because she was one of the predatory reporters.

She was the enemy.

A girl’s smiling face came to mind, dimples and amber eyes.
Sadie
. She had made a friend yesterday in Adam King’s younger sister. Somehow, that was what seemed to matter most right now.

So … was this the Kings’ house? She sat up to take in the room. It reminded her of an old-fashioned dormitory. All the other beds were empty, the covers of a few of them tossed back. At least they hadn’t been made yet.

Although it seemed early, she felt well rested, despite the garbled details of yesterday.

She rubbed sleep from her eyes as memories from last night gelled in her mind. She remembered someone asking her if she could climb the stairs, and then suddenly being lifted off her feet. Gentle hands had helped with her clothes. Sadie was there … probably another woman, too.

And then, during the night, she had gotten up looking for a bathroom. That memory was more vivid. Had Sadie really shown her to a chamber pot? She tossed back the covers and moved around the edge of the bed to see the corner of the room. There it was, a huge porcelain pot.

Oh, how embarrassing!

Not just the chamber pot, but all of it. She sat back on the edge of the modest bed. To have a seizure in front of total strangers, who, through their incredible generosity, took her in for the night. From the blank spots in her memory, she knew she hadn’t just passed out from hunger or exhaustion.

Another seizure. Remy had been down this path before, but she had thought she’d outgrown the seizures. Her last seizure had hit back in New York, when she was in college—more than a year ago. She had thought the lightning jolt of tremors and the blanked-out memories were behind her.

She would have to return to the neurologist, who would probably suggest a new medication, which meant new side effects to deal with. The thought of sitting in Dr. Healy’s office filled her with dread … especially when she considered the time leading up to the seizure. No sleep, no food save for some cheese and a pot of tea. Days of diet soft drinks and snacks. The doctor had warned the seizures might be triggered by sleep deprivation, poor diet, and stress. Now more than ever it seemed obvious that she needed to start taking care of herself.

The colorful patches of the quilt on her bed were a stark contrast to her bitter disappointment. Her toes curled against the floor,
the wood so cold it made the arches of her feet contract. There didn’t seem to be any direct heat up here in this bedroom, though the room seemed cheerful enough with its rose-painted walls and white curtains. The quilt on the bed she’d slept in, a random pattern dancing with multicolored patches, had kept her warm and comfortable through the night.

When a quick search of the dresser top did not reveal her clothes, she pulled the quilt from the bed, hitched it over her shoulders, and pushed aside the curtains. Night lingered, the purple darkness of first light. Moving lights drew her eyes to the activity in front of the nearest barn. Closer inspection revealed that the lights were small headlamps, attached with a wide band. Adam and another young man stood by the wide-open doors as cows trotted inside.

Was Adam always up this early? Watching from beyond the cold glass, she savored the moment, filing it away to remember on cold, dark mornings when sleep eluded her. Like a portrait, this stolen view of Adam’s life was a memento worth keeping.

After Adam disappeared into the building, Remy shifted her focus and spotted Ruthie, with flashlight in one hand, basket in the other, on the other side of the lane. She seemed to be corralling two small children, the littlest one still waddling like a toddler.

Crack of dawn, and already the farm seemed to be in full swing. Feeling as if she were a step behind, she bunched up the quilt and nightgown so that she wouldn’t trip and headed down the stairs. The mingled aromas of wood smoke and coffee drew Remy to a wide-open kitchen, where a young Amish woman was setting dishes on a huge table. The walls and ceiling, painted a dark shade of green, gave the room a cozy aura.

“Good morning.” The young woman looked neat as a pin, her dark hair pulled back, the crown of her head covered with the white bonnet Remy had grown accustomed to seeing yesterday.
A prayer kapp, she corrected herself. “I’m Mary,” the woman said as she finished doling out the plates. “Would you like some coffee?”

“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.