A Simple Winter: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel (38 page)

“What’s that little building over there?” She pointed to a rectangular building. Golden light gleamed from two windows, like two eyes in the twilight.

“The Muellers live there.”

“Are we on their property?”

“They used to own all this property until Dat bought them out. He worked out a deal so that they could stay in their house and rent back from us.”

“They’re not farmers anymore?”

“I don’t think they ever were. They’re not Amish. Gina is Mammi’s age, and she keeps to herself. Her son, Chris, does different jobs in Halfway. You might have seen him at the Halfway farmers market. He manages the market for Joseph Zook.”

“Big guy, scruffy beard, but sort of meek?”

“That sounds like Chris.”

As they headed around the east side of the farm’s acreage, Adam removed a high-powered flashlight from his saddlebag. Its beam cast an eerie light over the sloping drifts. Darkness was closing in, and Remy worried about the missing animal. Where was she?

When the pond was in sight, Remy thought she heard a mewling sound. “Is that coming from back at the barn?” she asked.

Adam swung the beam of the light around. “Over there.”

A dark spot moved in the snow, then it let out a moo. “Clementine.”

They rode over to the stranded cow. Remy held the flashlight while Adam climbed off his horse and tried to figure out the problem.

“She’s caught in the wire of the fence.” With clippers from his bag, Adam started cutting wire and bending it back, away from the animal.

“How did she get herself tangled up in that?”

“They do it all the time. You’d be amazed. They find the holes in the fence. They fall in ditches. Not the most graceful creature on God’s earth, are you, Clementine?”

Remy smiled. “Hey, give a poor cow a break. Everything’s covered with snow out here.”

In minutes Clementine was free and trotting toward the barn.

“See you back at the house, Clem,” Adam called after her, and they laughed together.

“I’m glad she’s safe,” Remy said as Adam mounted Thunder.

Astride his horse, Adam reached over and squeezed Remy’s hand. Through two pairs of gloves, she felt his warmth and held on for dear life.

There, under the diamond dots of winter stars, Remy knew she loved this man. Maybe that would be her burden to bear. Maybe it would be her secret to cherish in the cold, lonely nights ahead.

Still … he was here now, and she was learning to live in the moment.

“Let’s go home,” he said, and she urged her horse forward, toward the home of her heart.

ear noon on Thursday, a rumbling noise sent Mary and Remy hurrying to the front window.

“The milk truck.” Mary held her hands aloft, her fingers still covered in flour. “Thank the Lord. The roads are clearing.”

With a mixture of excitement and dread, Remy kept stirring the giant bowl of melted butter, cinnamon, and sugar in her arms as she watched the driver pull his rig over by the cowshed.

The roads were clearing.

The arrival of the milk truck meant that yesterday’s and this morning’s batches could go to the dairy. There would be no more waste. There would be renewed income for the family. That was the good news.

But the fact was that the roads clearing up would bring this dreamlike interlude to a sickening halt. Remy’s insides churned at the thought of her inevitable departure. But then she took a deep breath and reminded herself that she had learned how to live for
the moment, how to be in the moment, and she wasn’t going to let worries about the future damage the current day.

But that night, something collapsed inside her when Adam announced that he’d be taking some of the family to the Friday farmers market in the morning.

“Everything is still covered with snow, but we can make the trip to Halfway in the sleigh.”

That created a buzz of conversation over who would go along, what they’d bring to sell, and how cold the open sled would be.

Drinking her milk, hiding her face in the tall cup, Remy knew she would go to the market. She would see what she could learn about the condition of roads leading into Philadelphia.

If she tried, she could probably find a place to recharge her cell phone while they were at the market. She could call Herb to arrange a tow and a ride back to the city.

But before she made a move to leave, she would make sure the sheriff heard about Simon’s recent recollections about the murders of Esther and Levi King. That might tick Adam off, but she could not leave here in good conscience without supporting Simon in that way.

On Friday morning as the sleigh crested over the rise in the road, the sight of Remy’s abandoned car drew a flurry of interest.

“It looks sad and very lonely,” Ruthie remarked as they approached the ditched auto, now just a listing fender covered by a massive lump of snow.

Remy glanced to the backseat of the sleigh, where Ruthie, Sadie, Leah, and Susie sat, all heads turned toward the stranded car.

From his seat in the front between Remy and Adam, Simon twisted around to watch as they passed the car, then sat back down. “It will be okay, I think.” He patted Remy’s arm. “Don’t worry.”

She forced herself to smile. How could she explain that her worry wasn’t for her car or any of the facets of her life in the city, which now seemed flat and bland compared to the warm, animated days and peaceful nights with the Kings? She had grown attached to this loving family. She had fallen for the man sitting beside her, guiding the sleigh. Yes, she had fallen, big-time, and she didn’t know what to do about it.

Still, the tingle of fresh, cold air and the merriment of a sled gliding into the town of Halfway on hard-packed snow lifted everyone’s spirits—including Remy’s. Since the parking lot at Zook’s barn had been cleared, making it impossible for the sleigh to maneuver on wet pavement, they parked across the street in a field, alongside two similar vehicles.

While Adam and Simon unhitched the horse, Sadie and Remy supervised unloading their wares from the sleigh. They had brought a few colorful quilts, as well as half a dozen large plastic bins of baked goods produced during the snow days. There were loaves of fresh bread, cupcakes, and a huge variety of cookies—whoopie pies and peanut-butter, ranger, pinwheel, and flower-shaped spritz cookies, all delicious. Remy felt a personal joy in the baking she’d helped with. She couldn’t help but smile as she strode into the Zook barn with an armload of plastic cookie bins.

Arms full, they filed into the marketplace, past the tables stacked with honey, lavender, jams, and shoofly pies. The market seemed warm and familiar to Remy, and she laughed at the twist of events. Who would have imagined that she would now be here in Amish attire, selling items, just weeks after her initial visit?

“Are you afraid to come here now?” Sadie asked as they set up their table. “The last time you were here, it all ended with your seizure.”

“That seems like years ago … but it was just weeks.” Remy set out the spritz cookies, perfect pointed flowers made from a cookie
press. “You know, when I first realized I was snowbound, I worried about missing my medication. But I haven’t felt this good in years. I think the hard work, regular meals, and sleep were good for me. I feel like a different person.”

The vendor beside them was from a bird-watching organization, and Leah was immediately drawn to their books and calendars. The couple on duty introduced themselves as Nora and Jerry, and Leah immediately engaged them with a list of birds she had spotted in her own backyard.

“We see so many migratory birds on our farm.” Leah flipped through one of their books, pausing to admire the vivid color photos on a poster. “One year, we had some red-winged blackbirds nesting in our fields.”

“Phoeniceus.”
Jerry flipped through a book. “They’re in here somewhere.”

“Dat wouldn’t let anyone go near them until the nests were empty. He thought it was important to protect the birds.”

“Sounds like your father was a very good man,” Nora said with a smile.

“Oh, ya, he was.”

When Susie called Leah over to help with a sale, Remy secretly purchased a small pair of binoculars designed for bird-watching, and swept them into her purse, an odd accessory to be holding now that she was wearing a borrowed forest green Amish dress and black apron. Still, she was glad to have cash with her, as the binoculars gave her an idea. She would purchase a small gift for each member of the family, a small token of her appreciation to pass on before she left.

As she slid behind the Kings’ table to help with cookie sales, she began to think of gifts for the others. Susie would love some of those fleece-lined slippers; she was always hopping around to warm her feet in the house. Those heart-shaped cake pans would suit Mary, and for Adam …

Adam would be tough. Something special, but not embarrassingly sentimental.

She was mulling it over, packaging cookies in wax paper bags, when Adam and Simon finally made their way to the table. From the way Simon clung to Adam’s coat, his face nearly buried against his brother, Remy sensed trouble.

“They want to take my picture!” Simon exclaimed, looking behind him.

“We ran into some more reporters.” Adam’s mood had soured, and no wonder. “They backed off for the moment, but I don’t trust that they’ll do the right thing for long.” He shot a look over his shoulder. “I think I’m going to have to take Simon home.”

“But I want to stay and help.” Simon burrowed into his brother, his eyes pleading. “Please, let me stay with you.”

It tore at Remy to see him that way.

“I know a way to escape all this.” Sadie glanced over her shoulder, then nodded toward the lavender lady’s table. “There’s a staircase behind the wall over there. It leads to a hayloft where we can hide out for a while.”

Adam put a hand on Simon’s shoulder, considering. “Do you want to go to the loft?”

Simon looked up at Adam. “Will you come with me?”

“I need to stay here and supervise, but Sadie and Remy can keep you company.”

“Okay.”

Feeling protective of the boy, Remy took Simon’s hand and scanned the crowd for media types. “What did these reporters look like?”

“Another television news crew. The woman’s face was thick with paint. A thin lady with dark hair. I think her name was Mai Tonka. The cameraman, I didn’t meet him, but he’s lugging a big black camera.”

“We’ll keep Simon safe,” Sadie promised. Then she led the way past the popcorn stand and around the corner.

The stairs were blocked by a chain with a sign in the middle that warned: NOT AN EXIT. STAFF ONLY. Simon ducked under the chain, but Sadie unhooked it for Remy and herself.

“I’ve been coming up here for years,” Sadie confided to Remy. “It’s been my hiding place when I need a few minutes to myself. I listen to my iPod, escape through the music.”

“It’s coming in handy now,” Remy said, taking a look around.

The loft was tidy, swept clean. Not a strand of hay remained, although plastic milk crates were stacked in one corner, and a few hand-painted signs—advertising fresh summer produce, watermelons, juicy tomatoes, and no Sunday sales—leaned against the wall.

“But I wanted to work at the market.” Disappointment weighed Simon’s voice as he went to the edge of the loft and stared down at the maze of tables.

“Most people don’t ever get the chance to see the whole market this way,” Remy said, hoping to distract him. “Look at that. This is a bird’s-eye view.”

Simon’s brows rose. “Like we’re birds flying over it?”

“Exactly.”

Sadie joined them, her gaze sweeping the panorama below. “It would be fun to be a bird, circling above everyone.”

The three of them dropped to the floor of the loft, close enough to see below without being seen.

“Oh, and I have these.” Remy removed the small binoculars from her shoulder bag. “I bought them as a gift for Leah, but she won’t mind if we use them for a bit.”

Simon held them up to his eyes and scanned the barn. “It makes you very close. I can see the writing on all the signs. Alfie Yoder is here, and he has snow on his boots. And Susie is packing cupcakes into a box. A very good sale.”