A Simple Winter: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel Page 11

  Casting a look over his shoulder, Ben scowled. “Aussenseiter.” Although the literal meaning was “outsiders,” the single word alluded to the fact that these men came from another world, a culture with rules and ethics alien to the Amish community.

  In that moment Adam knew he was home again. Although in the past year he’d sometimes felt that people in the Amish community perceived him as a man sitting on the fence, one foot in this world and one planted among the Englishers, the balance had shifted. He was back among the Plain folk.

  “There he is …” Chris Mueller’s voice crept their way. “Adam, do you have a minute?” Chris paused, one hand on the nightstick looped through his belt, the other pressed to the silver star-shaped badge that signified he was a security guard. Rent-a-Cop, his friend Jane used to call them. Security people who wore the uniform of a police officer.

  “Actually, I’ve got some things to take care of.” Adam looked from Chris to the two men, suddenly feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

  “Adam King?” The man in the bright blue sweater and golden tan makeup extended his hand. “I’m Steel Winfield, WPHL news in Philadelphia. How’s it going?”

  His jaw tense, Adam shook the man’s hand, but he didn’t speak. Let them read from his silence; he didn’t want to talk with them.

  “This is my cameraman, Chuck Trotti, and we were wondering if you’d take a moment to talk with us about how your family is doing?”

  “Not interested.”

  “Mr. King.” Winfield’s voice was smooth as sanded wood. Pearly white teeth and unusual blue eyes completed the package. “We understand your reticence, the pain you’ve had to endure this last year. We don’t have to put you on camera, and we wouldn’t have to show anyone in your family. We don’t mean to be invasive, but people are inquisitive. They want to know how your family is doing.”

  “The family wants to be left alone,” growled Ben Lapp. “Go away.” With his black hat pulled down to his beady eyes and his beard a mass of dark fur beneath his chin, Ben looked every inch the grumpy old man.

  Whom Adam was happy to have in his corner.

  Steel Winfield focused on Adam, as if they were the only two people in the room. “The thing is, people are curious. They care about you. They want to know how little Simon is faring.”

  With his personable demeanor, Adam could see how this man won the confidence of his subjects. However, the Kings would not cooperate. “I have nothing to say,” Adam said. “And I would appreciate you leaving my family alone.” Adam walked away, but the reporter fell into step beside him.

  “Mr. King, I understand your desire to play down media attention, but if you don’t make some sort of statement, you’re going to have a media blitz raining down on you in the next few weeks.”

  Adam kept walking, kept his eyes straight ahead on the booths and curious faces, the signs for homemade jams and peach preserves.

  “An interview with me is the best way to ward off the curious,” Steel insisted. “And trust me, we’ll make it tasteful. No close-ups or tears on camera. That’s not how I work.”

  For a moment, Adam softened. Would that really be possible … to chase the media away with one short interview?

  No. In his experience, the curiosity would not abate. One taste of a story would draw other reporters here, like bees to honey. Adam had nothing new to say about the murders, and the bishop had consistently warned them to remain separate from the fancy world of reporters and TV cameras. While the Kings were to cooperate with law enforcement, the Ordnung forbade their involvement in the Englisher media.

  “Mr. King … Adam …” Steel Winfield strode alongside. “Let’s help each other out here.”

  “Go away, Mr. Winfield.”

  “It’ll only take a minute, maybe two.”

  “No.”

  “Then we’ll shoot what we can, do you want that? I’m free to shoot video, right? Some shots of your family … the children on their way to school. Little Simon, one year later … Whether or not the Amish like it, this is America.”

  Adam paused as the other man hoisted the camera onto his shoulder, poised to begin recording. Vultures, preying on people who’d already suffered so much. Preying on children …

  It was a struggle to keep his jaw from clamping tight as Adam stepped into the reporter’s path. “I think you’d better leave now.”

  Steel’s broad smile was cloying. “Freedom of the press.”

  Adam’s fists balled at his sides. He had to control the surge of anger, control the desire to wipe that smug expression from the reporter’s face. With gritted teeth, he sucked in a breath. Control, man. Peaceful ways.

  “This is a private market.” Conviction clanged like steel in Ben Lapp’s craggy voice as he pointed to the doorway. “This barn is owned by Joseph Zook, and he’ll have you banned from here if you cannot respect the rules of our community.”

  The reporter frowned. “You’re going to throw us out?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m doing.” Ben motioned to the security guard, who was watching from the door. “Chris, can you help these men?”

  Adam tucked his thumbs under his suspenders, impressed at old Ben’s fortitude. The quick action spared Adam from unleashing his temper, a fit he knew he would later regret.

  Chris scurried over, keys and equipment jangling from his belt. “Is there a problem?” he asked.

  “These men are leaving,” Adam said.

  “Yeah, okay.” The reporter motioned his cameraman toward the door. “But if you change your mind, call me.” He walked toward the exit, then turned back to add, “You can reach me through the station.”

  Watching them go, Adam gritted his teeth. This wasn’t going to subside. Hank’s warning about the media had been right on target; they were coming after his family for a story. They were merciless and mercenary.

  And he had promised to protect the family. The little ones, Katie and Sam and Simon, who could barely find a peaceful night’s sleep.

  And protect them he would.

  Within the bounds of peace, he would find a way.

  THIRTEEN

  emy’s heart lifted when she spotted him.

  Adam King.

  Even with the dozens of Amish men here at the market, Remy would have recognized those dark, smoky eyes anywhere. In his black trousers and cornflower blue shirt, and that black-brimmed hat over his dark, wavy hair, Adam was a strikingly handsome man. A handsome man with the fire of fury burning in his eyes.

  That made it all the more intimidating for Remy to approach him, but she couldn’t back down now. Sadie was going full steam ahead.

  He seemed to be watching the main exit, where people were milling in and out. Watching it like a hawk.

  “What’s wrong?” Sadie called to him as they approached.

  He shot a look back at them. When he saw Remy, his face registered surprise and disbelief. “Remy? What are you doing here?”

  “Hi, Adam.” She raised one hand and waggled the fingers. She had hoped he’d be happy to see her, but she sensed that she was walking into the middle of a bad situation.

  “Remy came all the way from Philadelphia to talk to you,” Sadie said. “So you’d better get yourself into a better mood.”

  “That’ll be hard to do, after dealing with these vultures.” Adam rubbed his chin, as if trying to slow things down. “I just had heated words with some reporters. Two Englishers with a camera. They want to put our family on television.”

  Reporters … Disappointment stabbed through Remy. Other reporters had gotten to Adam first. She should have thought of that possibility. And now they’d churned things up, muddied the waters for her.

  “Really?” Sadie’s bright tone drew a scowl from her brother. “Well, it is kind of exciting, but why us?”

  “Mamm and Dat. We’re coming up on the one-year anniversary.”

  “Oh.” Sadie’s voice fell an octave as the reality settled in.

  Remy bit her lower lip, sharing Sadie�
�s pain. Even the allure of the fancy world with its televisions and celebrity reporters could not diminish the grief of losing one’s parents. She knew firsthand; she would always feel the loss of her mother. Time might have healed the surface of the wound, but occasionally the scar still ached.

  “I know they’ve got a job to do,” Adam said. “They need to get their story. Sell papers and get viewers and so on. But to push their way in like that. Pushing into personal matters … They threatened to start filming us, the children, Simon.…” He shook his head in disgust. “I’m going to keep our family safe from them, Sadie. We have to watch out in the coming weeks, especially with Simon. Maybe he should stay home from school … I don’t know. Whatever it takes to keep everyone safe.”

  Sadie nodded, her lips pursed, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

  So much pain here. Remy swallowed, her throat thick with emotion. So much heartache. And she was planning to drive another arrow through their hearts by taking their story to Post readers?

  “I’m sorry, Remy.” Adam raked back his hair with one hand, then replaced his hat. “Not a very kind greeting after you’ve come all this way.”

  “Don’t be sorry! I understand.” She pressed a palm to her heart. “It’s scary to think of those guys pursuing your brothers and sisters.”

  And here I am, in line right behind them.

  Her eyes began to sting, the warning of tears, and she pressed a hand to her face and pursed her lips to keep it all in.

  “Don’t worry.” He bent his head closer, as if trying to read her expression. When she looked up, his dark eyes were warm with concern. “We’ll be okay.”

  His tenderness was more than she could bear. She stepped away, removing herself from the halo of his presence, searching to escape the trap she’d set with such precision. “I need some … something to drink. Excuse me.” She hurried away, as if she really had a chance of escaping her conscience.

  Regret weighed heavy on her shoulders as Remy listlessly followed Sadie to the food court at the back of the barn. She told herself she didn’t have to feel so guilty if she was backing away from the story … if that was what she was doing. At the moment, she only knew that now was not the time to make a pitch.

  But the bad feeling clung to her like a cold, wet blanket as she and Sadie purchased hot pretzels and cider and found a spot at a nearby picnic bench. They were joined by Emma Lapp, the young woman who taught at the Amish school. Sadie explained that she and Emma had been in the same grade when they attended school.

  “And now I teach Sadie’s sisters and brother,” Emma said. The thick line of her eyebrows gave her a serious demeanor that Remy imagined would work well in a classroom of children.

  When Remy learned that Emma was responsible for teaching grades one through eight single-handedly, her admiration for the young woman tripled. “Isn’t that difficult, teaching all those different grades at once?” she asked.

  “Oh, it’s a joy to watch the children learn and grow, year after year.” Emma had a habit of squinting when she smiled, which was often. “Actually, that’s one of the mottos we teach—JOY. It stands for Jesus first, You are last, and Others are in between.” Emma tied off a bag of popcorn. “The King girls are some of my best students. I’ll be sorry to lose Leah this year. And Simon—” She paused and glanced over her shoulder. “You can tell Adam that Simon is much improved. He’s even been talking in the last month or so.”

  Remy’s heart lifted at the news; Simon was doing better. She had read that he’d been rendered nearly speechless after witnessing his parents’ murders, so this was certainly a positive development. Part of her couldn’t believe how engrossed she’d become with this family … and so quickly. It was probably unprofessional, if she was going to write an objective article about them.

  “Did he show you the bear book I got for him?” Emma asked.

  Sadie twisted off a piece of pretzel. “I haven’t seen it, but I’m not the one he turns to. He’s become very close with Adam and Mary.”

  As they chatted they were joined by Nancy Briggs, who took the seat beside Emma with a sigh.

  “My body could go on, but my feet are protesting,” Nancy said as she stirred a cup of coffee.

  “But Nancy, who’s minding your table?” Sadie asked.

  “I corralled your twin sisters to do it. Leah’s so good with making change, and Susie has the gift of gab. They make a great team.”

  “It’s good you put them to work,” Sadie said.

  “Your grandmother agreed, though Adam seemed a bit perturbed by your lack of interest in quilt sales.” Nancy sipped her coffee, her eyes resting on Sadie. “And word of warning, he’s looking for you.”

  “Ach! Adam is always perturbed.” Sadie dismissed any worry with a wave of her hand. “He forgets that it’s my rumspringa.”

  “He may forget, but you, my dear Sadie, need to cut him some slack. Adam has quite a lot to handle, trying to run the farm and manage the family with your parents gone. It’s got to be hard on him … hard on all of us.” Nancy sighed. “Not a day goes by that I don’t miss Esther. She was a good friend.”

  Remy stiffened at the sudden turn of conversation. “You know, that was when I first met your brother,” she told Sadie. “Adam was on a train, heading home.”

  Emma bowed her head, as if in prayer, but Sadie’s amber eyes sparked with interest. “I think he mentioned you. He used to talk about the angel that lit his path home.”

  Remy winced. “Oh, I don’t know if that was me.”

  “And why wouldn’t it be, dear?” Nancy rolled the paper coffee cup between her palms. “Adam deserved to have an angel sitting beside him. Those were dark times. An unsolved murder that crushed this town for a good while. We were all devastated. One of my greatest regrets as mayor is that our justice system failed us. The police never did find the killer, even though Simon witnessed the dreadful incident.”

  “But he didn’t see anything,” Sadie said quickly. “He was hiding under Mamm’s skirts the whole time. And Bishop Samuel says we’re not to speak of this killer.”

  “But don’t you want the police to find this … this murderer?” Remy asked.

  Sadie shook her head slowly, gazing down at the table.

  “It’s not our place to judge,” Emma said softly. “We know that God is the only one who can mete out punishment for man’s sins.”

  “Any talk of justice is forbidden,” Sadie added.

  “That’s the Amish way. I know that, my dears, and yet I’m deeply sorry that the killer was not apprehended.” Nancy’s hand, speckled with sun spots, patted Sadie’s arm. “There’s a reason we Englishers put monsters like that behind bars. We can’t have a murderer on the loose. Let me tell you, lots of people in this town—even most of Lancaster County—would rest easier knowing that killer was locked up.”

  Remy pretended interest in her pretzel as she sorted through the information. Hearing the details spill out from the view of the Amish versus the town mayor brought a new perspective to the murders. Maybe this was enough information to write a piece without having to interview Adam King, which was out of the question today.

  Suddenly, the pretzel and cider held little interest for Remy. These people seemed so kind and genuine, and she was here under false pretenses.

  “Anyhoo …” Nancy put her coffee down on the table. “Through all the adversity, it was good that you and your siblings could stay together. I know Esther and Levi would have wanted it that way. And I have marveled at the way the Amish community pulls together in a crisis.”

  “People have been so very generous,” Sadie said. “We received many grocery showers, boxes of food. And Emma sent over some of her wonderful good peanut butter cakes.”

  Emma’s smile lit her eyes. “The children love peanut butter.”

  As they talked of favorite recipes, their sense of community and their enjoyment of each other touched Remy’s heart. There was nothing like this in her life, no support system beyond her t
wo college roommates who now lived in distant parts of the country. In fact, she didn’t even know the names of the couple who lived across the hall in her apartment building or the older gentleman who lived in the corner unit. How ironic that she lived in a much bigger community but knew far fewer people.

  Their conversation was interrupted when a middle-aged man in a police officer’s uniform paused by their table.

  “Good afternoon, ladies.” He nodded casually, a plastic tray of empty cups in one arm. “How’s your day going?”

  “Fine, just fine, Chris. How was the crowd today?” Nancy asked. “Not too much congestion in the parking lot?”

  Glancing up at the man, Remy noticed a gold patch on his jacket that said SECURITY. Unlike the married Amish men who wore beards only under their chins, this man’s face was covered in a groomed beard and mustache that, with his round physique, reminded Remy of a walrus.

  “It’s been quiet,” he said, tugging on the edge of his beard.

  Sadie introduced Remy to her neighbor, Chris Mueller.

  “Chris is in charge of security at our Saturday markets,” Nancy explained. “Don’t know what we’d do without him. The outdoor markets get crazy busy in the summer.”

  “I’m looking forward to checking that out.” When Remy met Chris’s eyes, he glanced away awkwardly, and she sensed that he was shy. A man in his thirties hiding behind a full beard and mustache. There was something sweet about it.

  “Sorry to bother you gals,” he said, “but I didn’t want to pass by without inquiring about your brother, Miss King. How is Simon doing?”

  “He’s better.” Sadie’s voice was smooth as cream. “And how’s your mamm? Is her knee all healed?”

  “She’s able to walk on her own now. And thanks for bringing that stew over. We got quite a few dinners out of it.”

  “Give Gina my best,” Nancy said. “Tell her I’ll expect to see her square-dancing again come the spring.”

  “Will do. Ladies … I’m back to work.” Chris Mueller tipped the visor of his hat, like an old-fashioned gentleman.