A Simple Winter: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel (16 page)

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 two 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.

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.

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.