A Simple Winter: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel (6 page)

Waiting to tease me for crying
, Simon thought. Steeling himself, he straightened his hat and walked right up to them.

“Good morning,” he said in Pennsylvania Dutch.

To Simon’s surprise, they had no criticism for his tears. Maybe he’d hidden himself well behind Jonah’s tall silhouette.

“Target practice,” Eli said, casting a pebble. “I’ve hit that fallen branch four times. John only got it once.”

“You try,” John said.

Simon stared at the fallen branch, but didn’t answer. Mamm used to say that contests were arranged to make the winner look better. “It’s best not to participate in competitions,” she once told him.

“Kumm,” Jonah said, beckoning the three boys. “No time for dawdling.”

Simon felt relieved when John dropped his handful of pebbles and brushed the dirt from his hands. They continued up the hill while Eli took a few more shots.

“Wait for me!” Eli ran to catch up. By the time he reached the boys, he was breathing heavy. “Simon, I forgot to ask you. Will you be going in with the boys today?”

One of the many questions Simon dreaded. Eli had been hounding him with it ever since Simon’s ninth birthday had approached. He glanced over at Eli, the boy’s mouth a pink slash against his pale, round face. Did Eli Zook know how much his question bothered Simon?

Simon shook his head no, letting his eyes meet the harsh question in Eli’s eyes.

“No? What is going on?” Eli spread his arms wide, as if dumbfounded. “Don’t tell me you still haven’t learned the words to the Loblied, like your mamm wanted.”

Simon didn’t answer, but waited for the sting of guilt and embarrassment to fade. He wanted to tell Eli how much he sounded like an old man. He wanted Eli and John and all the boys his age to leave him alone and stop talking about his mamm.

“He just turned nine,” John pointed out. “And the Loblied is hard to memorize. Twenty-eight lines!” He clapped a hand to the top of his hat, leaving a pale dust print. “I’m still learning it.”

“But you walk in with the boys,” Eli told his brother. “Come on, Simon. Today you walk in with us. You can’t be sitting with the women and babies forever.”

Ach, but that’s what I want to do
, Simon thought. He liked walking into worship services hidden between his sisters’ skirts. He felt safe coming in with Mary and Sadie and the little ones. Why did that have to change?

Simon’s boots dragged up the dirt hill as he watched Adam’s carriage disappear around a bend up ahead. Next time, he would stay inside, all the way to the Sunday service. He would talk to Adam about it. His oldest brother would understand.

From his pocket Eli took a few stray pebbles and made a game of bouncing them over the iced pond at the edge of Nate and Betsy’s farm. John began searching for scattered stones to give it a try, and Simon retreated to his own thoughts, glad that the boys were distracted.

Overhead the winter clouds broke, and sunlight gleamed on the windows of the house, which had been thoroughly cleaned yesterday in preparation for the Sunday meeting. Simon himself had helped haul wash water so that the floors could be wiped down before the benches were set up in rows, one side for men, the other for women.

Squinting at the sunburst, he sighed quietly as the tightness drained from his chest. The preaching service would begin soon, and once the first hymn started he usually found some peace, lulled by the familiar Hochdeutsch language of the service.

His step lightened as the words to the hymn rose in his heart.

O Gott Vater, wir loben Dich und deine Güte preisen; Dass du uns O Herr gnädichlich …

Ya, he knew the Loblied. All twenty-eight lines. Sometimes he ran the song through his head when he needed to quiet the fear in his racing heart. But he wasn’t ready to admit that he knew the hymn. For now, it was a secret he shared only with God, a secret to hold in his heart.

urple carrots. Are they not beautiful?” Dakota Ferris said as she dropped a bunch of heirloom carrots into a canvas shopping sack. “Love the Reading Terminal Market. Love these beets.” Her lips pursed in an air kiss as she lifted the bag of crimson root vegetables. “I can’t wait for you to taste my vegetarian stew. Did you get the cranberries?”

“Got them.” As Remy added the bag of ruby red berries to their collection she couldn’t help but smile. Dakota’s excitement was always contagious, and her friend was right; Philly’s indoor market was a splash of color and warmth on a gray winter day. She would have to remember this after Dakota went home, how just walking past the bins of bright red, orange, and green produce lifted her spirits. The chatter, the flurry of activity, and the mouth-watering scents of coffee and vanilla and fresh flowers all made her smile.

Many of the vendors at the market were Amish, easily distinguished by their clothes: modest dresses, aprons, and bonnets for
women, dark suits and hats for men. Although Remy tried not to stare, she couldn’t help but check the face of each Amish man she passed, searching for soulful brown eyes and the angular jawline of the man she’d met a year ago on that train. Perhaps it seemed like a stereotype, thinking that Adam King might be here, but since their first meeting she had looked for him whenever she’d happened upon a group of Plain folk. She had lain awake plenty of nights thinking about how an act of violence had impacted his life. She’d worried about the toll something like that would take on his youngest siblings, and she’d tried to imagine him as an Amish man, clean-shaven, which was an indication of being single.

Or not.

What if he had a beard, a growth of thick, dark hair below his chin line? That would mean he was married, as Amish men let their beards grow after they got married. It was one of the cultural details she’d picked up in her research of Amish customs. Disappointment cast a shadow over her mood at that possibility. Somehow, the idea of Adam with a wife bothered her. It seemed wrong that he might marry so soon after his parents’ deaths. It just felt wrong.

“You know what I’m thinking?” Dakota asked.

Remy blinked back to the moment. She had no clue, but at least her friend didn’t seem to have noticed that she’d zoned out.

“This place is newsworthy.” Dakota tucked her blond hair behind one ear and did a quick scan of the marketplace. “You should do a story on the Reading Market. People here need to know what a great resource they have, right in the downtown area.”

“Really? I’d love to.” They had spent a good part of the afternoon in a café trying to come up with stories Remy could pitch. After nearly a year with the
Post
, she still hadn’t come up with a newsworthy angle. “But it’s probably been done to death. This place has been here for a hundred years.”

“So you put a new spin on it.” Dakota cocked her head, the gold
streaks in her hair catching the light. “You’ll think of something. But I’m getting hungry. Let’s grab the rest of our ingredients and run so I can get this on the stove. All the flavors need time to intermingle.” As Dakota sorted through the satchel, taking inventory of their groceries, Remy was reminded of the good times they had shared in college, along with Kiara, pooling resources and talents in their New York apartment. Having Dakota here for the weekend was like a trip back in time to their college home.

“We’ll probably need a forklift to get this stuff to your apartment, but we’re not done yet. I’m going to get some almonds for the stew, while you head over and pick up some homemade cheese to go with the Tuscan bread.” Dakota hitched the handle of the tote bag up on her shoulder. “See if you can get cheddar or Havarti. Dairy is thataway.” She pointed past the flower stand.

“Got it. I’ll meet you back by the roses.” Remy dodged the wide berth of a double stroller and headed toward the aisle of refrigerated cases, where signs boasted of homemade ice cream, farm-fresh milk, and handmade cheeses from the King Family Dairy.

The King family? Her radar flared. King was among the most common Amish names in Lancaster County, but still …

A handful of people were lined up along the cheese stand, where an Amish man and woman waited on customers. She shot a quick glance at the man, but he was short and solidly built, with dark glasses; definitely not Adam.

Shaking off disappointment, Remy moved forward to look over the selections of orange and white cheeses behind the glass.

She recognized the cheddars, but Havarti? There were half a dozen varieties; choices beyond her expectations. She stared at the rectangular prisms and wheels of cheese as the young woman leaned into the case, her hair tucked neatly into a starched white bonnet.

“Did you have a question?” The voice came from behind her.

An Amish man
was her first thought as she turned and fell under the spell of penetrating dark eyes and a face engraved in her memory.

Her heart skipped a beat as the improbable suddenly became reality. It was him. Adam King.

“I could help you with the cheeses.”

Her breath caught in her throat as she dared to face him. Under the brim of that black hat his dark eyes, soft but alert, had a warming effect.

“Oh. Hi.” She struggled to diffuse the intense buzz of energy in the air between them, struggled not to stare at him. His face—clean-shaven, thank the Lord—was still a handsome blend of sharp angles and smooth jawline.

She forced herself to breathe, hoped that he would not hear the nervous tension in her voice as she said, “Not to sound weird, but have we met before?”

He touched his chin, his dark eyes level and cool. “I was thinking the same thing. You remind me of a girl I met on a train last year.”

“That’s it!” She snapped her fingers and grinned. “Amtrak to Philly. We were both headed home. You’re Adam King, right?”

He nodded. “How are you, Remy?”

“You remembered my name.…” Something about that warmed her. Really, with all the people he had encountered in the past year, to have remembered her … “That’s amazing.”

“Well, you remembered mine.”

“Your name was in the newspaper. It was on every channel.” She almost regretted the words the minute they were out, but there was no getting around the horrible tragedy he’d returned home to.

“It was. But you made an impression.” He moved behind the
counter to replace the plastic carton on a stack. When he stepped out again he seemed taller than she remembered, with the strength of a man who was no stranger to hard work. “I don’t meet many girls with hair that color. Like a bright copper penny.”

Self-consciously, she grabbed at the curls springing over one shoulder. As a kid, she’d hated being teased about her hair, but coming from Adam, the comment seemed like a compliment.

“You made quite an impression, too,” she admitted. “Though I felt awful when I learned the details about your parents. When you walked off the train that night I had no idea just how terrible …” She shook her head. “I couldn’t imagine what you were going through. You know, I really worried about you. I prayed for you and your family … that you’d heal.”

“Thank you.” He stared at her lips, as if watching words form there. “That was very kind of you.”

“How is everything going?” She glanced toward the sign over the cheese stand. “The King Family Dairy … so these are your products? Is that your brother at the register?”

“My cousin. Market Joe, we call him. He’s in charge of sales here. The family pools resources so that we can bring our products to various markets.”

“And your siblings? You said you had ten brothers and sisters. How’s everyone doing? Are they here with you?”

“Not today, but they are doing well. They move ahead with each day, trying to follow God’s plan for them. It’s been difficult at times, especially for the younger ones, but they have faith and they’re surrounded by love. Plenty of love.”

He made it sound so simple, she thought. As if love was the magic cure for a broken heart, a broken life. To have lost their parents in such a violent way, those children had suffered major trauma. Had they gotten professional help?

Adam, too. She couldn’t imagine how hard this year must’ve been for him. “Well, you look like you’re doing well.” He looked healthy and solid in a dark,
American Gothic
way, but she didn’t want to gush.

“I’m grateful for all the good things in my life. Blessings, big and small,” he said. “And how about you? You were coming home to live with your father, right?”

His eyes, when they caught hers, took her breath away. “I was,” she managed. “But I’m not living with Herb anymore. Long story. Sort of boring. Bottom line, he has a new family that really doesn’t include me. But I’m doing okay. I’m happy to have a job and my own place and …” She was babbling; she knew she was babbling, and she had to stop herself before she revealed the bare truth.
I have an empty apartment, an empty life, an empty heart
. Funny how it would be easier to make that admission to a near stranger like Adam than to a close friend.

“But you’re still not overjoyed to be in Philadelphia,” he said.

So … he remembered how she’d felt that day on the train. Remy had no quick answer, and she couldn’t help but wonder how he could extract her current attitude from the past two minutes. “I haven’t found what I was looking for here. My job, the work, it keeps me busy, but—”