A Simple Winter: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel (43 page)

“Ya, I saw her big white car. Turns out she was a reporter, ya?”

Adam frowned. Word traveled in the community. “Ya.”

“I see. You do have a lot of anger on your plate.” Dave stroked his beard as he let out a breath. “I know you’ve heard talk of
Gelassenheit
, one of the foundations of Amish life.”

“It’s the opposite of hochmut, right? Instead of pride, we strive for humility.”

“Sort of. But gelassenheit is so much more. It’s tranquility and grace. Acceptance. Letting go. It’s the union of our inner spirit with our outward actions.”

Adam rubbed his chin. “Okay. So … you’re saying I need to let go?”

“Sometimes, you have to put forgiveness into action, and the feelings inside will follow later. Take action, do the right thing, and if your heart is open, the Heavenly Father will find His way in. The way you brought food and support to Gina Mueller. Maybe that day you were still hurt, still reeling from grief, but through your actions you moved toward forgiveness. That’s a good thing. The action demonstrated forgiveness.”

In his mind, Adam saw the line of gray carriages headed down the lane toward the Mueller home the night Chris was arrested. The group of Amish visitors brought food and comfort to Gina Mueller, aware that she, too, was suffering in the wake of her son’s
violent act. Ya, it had been a step toward forgiveness, though some bitterness stuck to him, like pine sap in the grooves of the hand.

“Am I confusing you?” Dave asked.

“No, I see the point.” He hadn’t thought about gelassenheit for years, but now he remembered how, when he was a boy, the preachers warned that you could not earn gelassenheit. Instead, you had to catch it. Adam had always loved the image of catching gelassenheit as if it were a flying fish.

“But what about marrying Annie?” Adam asked as Dave returned to his sanding. The groom needed a letter of good standing from his church leaders called a
Zeugnis
.

“I think you had better talk with her first. If you two want to marry, I have no objections to that. You’ll get your zeugnis.”

As Adam left Dave Zook’s shop, he told himself he was doing the right thing. This would be good for the children. It would make Annie happy, and he would be following the instructions of the church leaders.

It’s the right thing to do
, he kept telling himself as he slowed Thunder to a trot through the town of Halfway … where every Englisher woman he passed looked like Remy.

On Saturday, the traditional courtship night, Adam stood on the mushy grass outside Annie’s house, shining a flashlight up to her second-story window.

Wind nipped at the bottom of his jacket as Annie appeared in the window and waved him toward the door.

He was far too old for this. Courtship at his age was ridiculous.

Annie met him at the door, her smile bright as she invited him in.

“I’m so surprised to see you!” she said, though he knew she had
been expecting him. Mary had spread the word that he would be coming over.

“Mary sends her best,” he said.

Annie pressed her hands to her chest. “She has always been a dear friend. You’re lucky to be blessed with such a wonderful sister. Have a seat and I’ll cut you some pie as soon as it finishes cooling. I just baked it this evening.”

The first half hour was excruciating, with Annie prattling on about who she saw at the singing last week and whether the snow-melt would cause flooding and how the secret to a good sweet potato pie was the cinnamon.

After that, things got a little bit better when she cut him a slice of pie. Sweet potato pie with a creamy texture and buttery crust. He thought her skills as a baker might be some consolation after they were married. They would always eat well.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” Annie said, taking the chair adjacent to him and leaning casually close on the table. “I feel like I’m doing all the talking.”

She was, but Adam didn’t mind. He really had nothing to say to her, beyond the big question.

He swallowed a bit of pie and cleared his throat. “Annie. I came tonight because I have something to ask you.”

Her cherry lips curled in a smile, encouraging him.

“The thing is, you know there are eleven of us. Mary and Jonah are very responsible and, well, you know Mary’s plans. It’s a big responsibility, but the children need a woman in the house and …”

The sour expression on her face cut him off. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Adam King, are you asking me to marry you or bringing me in as a housekeeper?”

Both
, he thought as he choked on a piece of crust. He grabbed a slug of water and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I can’t believe you would ask me that now, and in that way.” Astonishment shone in Annie’s blue eyes as she shook her head. “Let me ask you a question, and you must be honest with me. Do you favor me at all?”

He took a sip of water, swallowed hard. Anything to stall.

Her jaw dropped. “You
don’t!
Why, I could just turn this pie over in your lap.”

“Please don’t. It’s delicious and … really, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

“Offend me? Here I’ve been mooning for you all these years, thinking you might one day come around and start courting me, give us a chance to get to know each other.”

He put his fork down. “And … here I am.”

“Asking me to marry you, out of the blue.” She sighed. “Two people need time to get to know each other and fall in love. Don’t you know anything?”

Apparently he did not. He had never been very good at the gaming part of courtship.

“Not to mention that everyone knows you lost your heart to that Englisher woman who was living here. The one wearing Mary’s Amish dresses.” She put her hands up. “Don’t deny it! Emma Lapp saw her at the market, twice, and you know it must be obvious if the schoolteacher can see what’s going on.”

“Remy is gone.” He winced, just pronouncing her name. “She’s living in Philadelphia now.”

“But you’re still pining away.” She took the empty pie plate away and shuffled over to the sink. “I don’t understand you, Adam. A few months ago I would have been thrilled to hear this proposal. But now …” She shook her head. “It’s all verhuddelt. I might have tried courting for a while, but now even that seems awkward.”

Adam looked over at her with a new respect. Annie had a
strong sense of who she was and what she wanted. “I appreciate your honesty.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Even though I turned you down?”

“Especially because you turned me down.” He smiled. “I don’t think we’re very well suited for each other, anyway.”

“Ya, but you don’t have to be so happy about it.”

He grabbed his hat from the hook, and she opened the door for him.

“Good night, Adam. Go find your true bride. I’m tired and I’ve got a lot of singings in my future if I’m ever to meet the man the Heavenly Father intends me to marry.”

“Denki, Annie.” As the door closed behind him, Adam breathed a deep, cold breath of relief. He still needed to find a mother for the children, but somehow he felt as if he’d narrowly escaped a landslide.

emy stood at the window of Herb’s office, looking out on the city of Philadelphia through a pair of opera glasses she’d found on his shelf. Behind her, Herb was going on about a trade show in Las Vegas that he wanted her to attend, but the details floated by her as she viewed the city through the high-powered binoculars.

Sometimes it’s good to change your perspective
, she thought. Adjusting the focus, she wondered how Leah’s bird-watching was going with the little gift Remy had passed on.

Time hadn’t done much to heal her wounds. She wondered if Sadie had returned to her job and her boyfriend at the hotel. Was Susie keeping to her special diet, and what new words was Katie saying? And Simon … had his night terrors faded now that Chris Mueller had confessed to the killings? Dear, sensitive Simon. How she missed seeing him. And Ruthie with her penchant for the truth; Gabe, with his passion to do the right thing; and Mary and the little ones and …

She missed them, every single one.

In the two weeks since she’d been wrenched from the family, the news services had covered the recent developments in the King murders. Christopher Mueller had pled guilty at arraignment and was currently awaiting sentencing for the crimes. Two or three lines of copy, and the story was over for most people. But Remy knew there was so much more to it: striations of layers, personalities and hopes and dreams.

“What happened?” Sadie had asked her on the phone, alarm etched in her voice. “What happened to you and Adam?”

“It’s complicated,” Remy had said, unable to face the fact that her lie had been the thing that started this faulty tower tumbling down.

Should she have told Adam earlier? Should she have emphasized that she’d given up on the story? And why did a small detail like that matter so much? Couldn’t he see that their love was bigger than all the twists and turns of their lives before they came together?

Voicing any of these doubts on the phone would only have drawn Sadie into the situation, and the last thing Remy wanted was to shape a story that pointed any blame at Adam.

“You know I’ll always be your friend,” Sadie had promised. “I’ll come visit you in Philadelphia.”

“You are welcome any time,” Remy had assured her, though she imagined that a visit from Sadie would only earn her more disapproval from Adam, who saw Sadie’s experimentation in the real world as a measure of his own failure to lead her down the Plain path.

As Herb yammered on the phone behind her, she lifted her heavy hair, twirled it into a twist, and stuck a pencil there to keep it in place. She missed her prayer kapp, missed the connection to God
that it symbolized. But she had learned to pray without it. Every day, she prayed for forgiveness.

She’d tossed the topic around with Nancy, who had put Remy up for the night after Adam had made it clear that Remy was not welcome back at the farm. While she had helped Nancy stir up granola recipes, Nancy had offered tea and sympathy.

“The Amish are big on forgiveness,” Nancy had said. “He’ll forgive you, eventually.”

“But he won’t forget.” Remy knew that. Adam would never let her in his home or heart again.

“Forgiveness is like a three-pronged fork. There’s forgiveness from the person you wronged. Forgiveness from God. And then, you’ve got to forgive yourself.”

“I’m not sure I can do that.”

“You can, but you have to work on it. Put some spiritual muscle into it.”

“I’ve got no muscle left, spiritual or otherwise.” Hot with regret and grief, Remy rested her head on the cool granite counter and burst into tears.

“You got it bad, kid. Reminds me a little of myself, umpteen years ago.”

Nancy talked about how she’d almost missed out on spending her life with her Ira, all because of a “ridiculous” misunderstanding. “But we worked it out. Had forty-one wonderful years together. Retired in Halfway because we liked the people here, and started making muesli bars for a kick.”

Four years later, her Ira was gone and she could not produce enough bars to keep up with demand.

“Do you miss your husband?” Remy had asked.

“Every day. That man was the love of my life. You never get over someone that special.”

Remy understood that now. She had found the love of her life, and it had lasted but a few heartbeats.

Keeping her word to Adam, she had not written about the King family. The fabric of Amish life had become the basis of her story for the
Post
. A story they still had not run, though Arlene and Miles had given it a thumbs-up.

“What are you doing, playing mannequin?” Herb barked, interrupting her thoughts. “I just got off with Menkowitz, who’s looking forward to seeing you at the convention in Las Vegas. That’s right; Vegas, baby!” Herb laughed. “You are going to love that town, and this convention is a great place to start you as the new face of this enterprise with the Menkowitzes. Our new director of public relations.”

“Dad, I keep telling you, I’m not interested in a corporate job.” She scanned the glass façade of a high-rise building in Center City, landing on a woman at her desk, working at a computer. A lonely scene.