A Simple Winter: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel Page 12

  As the security guard headed off, Remy was once again struck by the warmth and charm of this world in which neighbors helped neighbors and everyone, Amish and non-Amish, nurtured a strong sense of community. Sadie had taken her under her wing today, allowing her an inside look at an afternoon in Halfway, and what was Remy about to do?

  Write it all up and publish it. Steal their personal thoughts, their hopes and fears, and post them in bold headlines.

  The air in the room had become dense, thick with betrayal. It was after three and already some of the vendors were packing up their wares. The lavender lady passed by, her baby in a sling, as she pulled a little red wagon loaded with boxes toward the door.

  “People are packing up.” Remy glanced toward the large end of the barn, wanting to be reassured by a flurry of activity. “It’s ending.”

  “Some of these vendors have been here since eight o’clock, setting things up,” Sadie said. “It’s a long day for not much profit.”

  Remy didn’t know how to explain that she didn’t want anyone to leave, because that meant she would need to pull herself together and say good-bye to Sadie and Nancy and Emma and all of Sadie’s sisters. Say good-bye to these nice people and drive back to Philadelphia, to her empty apartment and the prospect of disappointing her boss come Monday morning.

  Somehow the thought of pulling herself up from this picnic bench overwhelmed her.

  She was tired … so tired and thirsty. But the apple cider in the cup before her seemed cloying and sweet. She pushed it away and rested her head on the table as the edges of her vision grew furry and gray.

  Sleep … she could never find it, but when she wanted it least, it chased her down, painting over the view.

  With a whisper of a sigh, she felt her muscles tense then go slack as she slipped straight down the hole.

  FOURTEEN

  ucking his hands under his arms for warmth, Adam scanned the parking lot. The news van was gone. They were safe, for now, but plans would have to be made, the children warned how to respond in case other vultures swooped down from the sky.

  With that task in hand, he ducked back into the wind shield of the barn and headed toward their table. Mammi Nell would have to be told about the reporters. It was time for the girls to start packing up the quilts, and while they loaded the carriage, maybe he’d have a free moment to talk with Remy. Something had spooked her back there; he had seen the wounded look on her face, and he had to make sure she was okay.

  What amazed Adam was how a woman could leave such a brand when he’d seen her just twice in his life. But one look in her emerald eyes and he felt the spark of recognition, as if he had known her forever. Haunting, that one. He didn’t usually “notice” women, but there was something about Remy that demanded his attention.

  Speaking in Pennsylvania Dutch, he told his grandmother about his confrontation with the reporters.

  “Good that you thought to leave Simon back at home,” she told him, her eyes stony with resolve. “A wise choice, Adam. And we’ll pray on it for these next few weeks. The Heavenly Father will help us through this. You’ll see.”

  He nodded, glad for her staunch faith.

  Telling Mammi Nell he’d be right back to help load the carriage, he strode away from their table to look for Sadie and Remy.

  Remy … the first time he met her, he was left wondering if God had sent her. An angel. A circle of light on a very dark day, in those dark times …

  That period in his life, when he’d been rushing home to Halfway, quietly frantic to pick up the pieces, was still a sore spot. He’d been at a crossroads, passing from one world to another, choked by a cloud of guilt, hating himself for being gone when his family needed him. He’d been afraid that the bishop and other church leaders would not give him permission to be the caretaker of the family, and without someone at the helm he had no doubt they would have been split up and sent to live with different aunts and uncles. And he’d been afraid of failing the people who needed him. Susie with her medical condition. The little ones, their whole lives ahead of them. Simon, with the tight kernel of trauma buried deep inside. Everyone needed something. Even strong, hardworking Mary needed the confidence to move on and start her own family.

  Some of those fears still lingered, but he was working on them, with God’s help. These days when he prayed, he gave up his burdens and trusted in the Lord’s blessings. He’d realized that his strength and wisdom and patience were not nearly enough to get the family through. He needed to allow God to take over.

  As he passed Bob Miller’s makeshift village of sheds, he noticed flashing lights blinking through the market exit, spilling over the eating area where a small cluster of people were gathered. The light swirled and washed over everything in a circular motion: the turret lights of an emergency vehicle that had been backed in through the wide barn door.

  He recognized Nancy Briggs, the town mayor and a family friend in the group. And was that Sadie, bending down as if to help someone?

  Something was wrong.

  His pulse quickening, he ran toward them.

  Dodging bystanders, he wove his way to Nancy, who was talking with Mike Trueherz, a volunteer in Halfway’s fire department. Mike’s father was Susie’s doctor, a man who Adam believed had saved his sister’s life.

  “What’s going on?” Adam’s heart thumped with panic.

  “A young woman passed out,” Mike said, not looking away from the open bay of the ambulance that had backed into the wide doors of the barn. Two other attendants were working with a redheaded girl who sat in a portable canvas wheelchair.

  Remy …

  Adam’s heart thumped as he recognized her, surrounded by medical equipment. A clear mask covered her mouth and nose and a sleeve was clamped on her arm.

  “It’s Sadie’s friend, Remy.” Nancy gave Adam’s arm a good, hard squeeze. “You should be proud of your sister. She remained calm throughout.”

  “Sadie did a great job. One of the most dangerous parts about having a seizure is the possibility of injuring the head on the way down.” As he spoke, Mike hooked a cable into a small machine as if there was not a minute to waste. So much like his father. “Sounds like Sadie caught Remy as she collapsed. A lucky thing. There are no apparent injuries from the seizure, and it looks like she’s going to be okay.”

  “We can all be thankful for that,” Adam said, though he was wondering what would happen next. How would Remy get home to Philadelphia? It seemed that she’d come here alone, probably in a car, he suspected.

  As Adam moved toward the ambulance, Sadie straightened and caught sight of him.

  “I’m going to collect her things.” Her brow was creased with concern, and some of her light brown hair fell in her face, giving her a harried look. “It all happened so fast, I think we left everything at the table.”

  “Is she okay?” he asked.

  “She’s getting better, but it was really scary.” Sadie’s voice was choppy. She was so rattled, he felt sorry for her, too.

  “Okay,” Adam said. “Get her things, and then we really have to go. It’s getting late, and Gabe and Jonah need help with the milking.”

  With Ruthie, Leah, Susie, Sadie, and him here, more than half the workforce was away from the dairy farm, and he really hadn’t meant to stay this late in the day.

  He glanced over at Remy, her eyes wide and doelike as people moved around her. She had a glassy stare, not unlike Simon’s confused look when he was trapped in a night terror. He drew in a deep breath, infused with compassion.

  She looked lonely.

  One of the Amish volunteers, David Yoder, was reassuring her, though Remy didn’t seem to realize he was talking to her. She seemed to be watching the world around her from a faraway place, as if trying to figure out why everyone was gathered around her.

  Adam moved closer and lowered his head so that he’d be in her line of vision. “How are you doing, Remy?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, her eyes blank as a doll’s glass
orbs. “I need to go home.”

  That was going to be a tough one, considering that she lived back in Philadelphia. Adam turned to David, his voice lowered so as not to panic Remy. “Will she be okay to drive back to Philadelphia?” he asked.

  “Ach, she can’t do that.” David shook his head. “No driving. Even a bath is risky after such a spell. She could have another seizure.”

  “So how will she get back to the city? Or are you taking her to the hospital in Lancaster?”

  Before David could answer, Mike was back to work one of the portable monitors. He pressed some buttons and the machine spit out a narrow strip of paper. The volunteer tore it off, took a quick look at it, then handed it to Remy. “This is a copy of your EEG. Everything looks okay now, so you can keep this.”

  When he handed her the slip of paper, she clutched it in her fist, like a child grabbing at a flower.

  “I’ll bet you never expected to end your day this way,” Adam said in an attempt to relax her.

  She handed the paper to him. “Can you sign this? I need your permission.”

  Adam took the slip of paper, a chart of jagged lines. “What do you want me to do?”

  “It’s my permission slip. For school.” She looked forlorn in the wheelchair, an edge of alarm in her shiny eyes.

  Adam exchanged a look with Mike. “What’s she saying?”

  “She’s still a little fuzzy, which is normal for someone who had a seizure.” Mike nodded at the slip of paper. “From what she told one of your sisters, sounds like she may have a seizure disorder. Just keep that for her. It’s her EEG, which she might want to give to her neurologist back in Philly.”

  Adam tipped the brim of his hat back. “Why would I keep it for her? Isn’t she going with you to the hospital?”

  “She doesn’t want to go. Sadie says you’re taking her back to your place to get some rest, which is what she needs. After a seizure, a patient is usually exhausted. Sleep is the best thing for her.” Mike closed up a metal box and turned away to load it in the truck.

  Adam winced. He couldn’t take this English girl back to the farm. It wouldn’t be right. What would the bishop say?

  “Mike, hold on a minute. We can’t take her home with us.” As Adam swept past Remy, she grabbed his sleeve.

  “I want to go home. Please.” Her doleful plea tore at him even before he saw her face pucker like a child on the verge of tears.

  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.”

  FIFTEEN

  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 st
ress. 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?”