Read Online A Simple Winter: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel by Rosalind Lauer - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Rosalind Lauer
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upstairs bathroom. A tub room with more privacy than this passageway between the barn and main house. When he was a boy, Mamm had thought the tub was perfect on this closed porch. She could scrub her children down, wiping the muck and mud of the farm from their little bodies before they even stepped foot inside the kitchen door.
He grinned at the memory. Mamm’s clean kitchen floor was family legend.
But these days, a tub in the entryway was not practical. He stripped down to his undershorts, knowing he wasn’t guaranteed privacy, and stepped into the steamy water with a groan.
The pain at the back of his neck had nothing to do with work, and everything to do with stress. Since he’d returned here, Adam hadn’t slept a single night without first lying awake with worried prayers for his brothers and sisters.
Tonight he’d had to look the other way when, as soon as she finished wiping the dinner dishes, his sister Sadie had headed down the dark road on her scooter, no doubt to meet her Englisher boy, as was her habit recently. Sadie had fallen for pop music and a boy from the outside, and since she was seventeen and in her rumspringa, she was entitled to some freedom.
As hot water covered his knees and sent warmth up his spine, he thought of Mary and Jonah off at the bonfire. Mary had pestered him about going along, insisting that Mammi could keep watch over the little ones. Even teased him that he’d wind up an old, lonely man if he didn’t start taking an interest in the local Amish girls. She didn’t mention Annie Stoltzfus’s name, but he knew if his oldest sister had her way, she’d have Adam marrying her best friend come wedding season.
With a groan, Adam rose from the tub and, dripping, reached over to turn off the spigot. Not a good setup, this tub. He’d work on the hot water situation.
He sank back into the hot water, thinking of Simon, his little shadow. The boy had been coming out of his shell, but something had been bothering him of late, set him talking about bears at bedtime when Adam spent some time alone with him.
“Bears kill people. Did you know that?” Simon’s amber eyes were shiny with fear. “I read it in a book. They attack. Sometimes people get murdered by bears.”
“That’s true,” Adam said. “But actually, I don’t think they call it murder when a bear kills. They don’t mean to kill the person.”
“I know, but it’s still scary.”
Thinking back over the conversation, Adam realized that he and Simon had discussed the topic of deadly bears half a dozen times, though today had been the first time Simon had used the word “murder” in connection with bears.
The social workers, police psychologists, and doctors who had interviewed Simon after their parents’ deaths had come away with the same opinion: The healing would take time. They believed that eventually Simon would begin to sort through the things he’d seen at the crime scene in the moments before he’d been hidden under the skirt of Mamm’s dress.
At the time, what little Simon said sounded like one of Grimm’sfairy tales—a bear had attacked their parents but missed seeing Simon hidden under Mamm’s skirts. A bear, Simon insisted. But bears were rare in this part of Pennsylvania. And from what Adam had read, bears had an acute sense of smell, even stronger than bloodhounds. Wouldn’t a bear have sniffed Simon out of hiding?
Besides, a bear could not have pulled the trigger on the handgun that killed their parents.
Adam sighed over the wedge of frustration that stuck in his gut. Simon had been doing so well, but now, with this talk of bears again, Adam didn’t know what to think.
He ducked his head under the water, slicked his hair back, and worked in some shampoo as he considered the best way to help Simon. His brother seemed a bit afraid of the bishop. Maybe a talk with Uncle Nate? Simon had been warming up to him yesterday.
After he rinsed his hair, he looked around for the soap. Nothing in
He grinned at the memory. Mamm’s clean kitchen floor was family legend.
But these days, a tub in the entryway was not practical. He stripped down to his undershorts, knowing he wasn’t guaranteed privacy, and stepped into the steamy water with a groan.
The pain at the back of his neck had nothing to do with work, and everything to do with stress. Since he’d returned here, Adam hadn’t slept a single night without first lying awake with worried prayers for his brothers and sisters.
Tonight he’d had to look the other way when, as soon as she finished wiping the dinner dishes, his sister Sadie had headed down the dark road on her scooter, no doubt to meet her Englisher boy, as was her habit recently. Sadie had fallen for pop music and a boy from the outside, and since she was seventeen and in her rumspringa, she was entitled to some freedom.
As hot water covered his knees and sent warmth up his spine, he thought of Mary and Jonah off at the bonfire. Mary had pestered him about going along, insisting that Mammi could keep watch over the little ones. Even teased him that he’d wind up an old, lonely man if he didn’t start taking an interest in the local Amish girls. She didn’t mention Annie Stoltzfus’s name, but he knew if his oldest sister had her way, she’d have Adam marrying her best friend come wedding season.
With a groan, Adam rose from the tub and, dripping, reached over to turn off the spigot. Not a good setup, this tub. He’d work on the hot water situation.
He sank back into the hot water, thinking of Simon, his little shadow. The boy had been coming out of his shell, but something had been bothering him of late, set him talking about bears at bedtime when Adam spent some time alone with him.
“Bears kill people. Did you know that?” Simon’s amber eyes were shiny with fear. “I read it in a book. They attack. Sometimes people get murdered by bears.”
“That’s true,” Adam said. “But actually, I don’t think they call it murder when a bear kills. They don’t mean to kill the person.”
“I know, but it’s still scary.”
Thinking back over the conversation, Adam realized that he and Simon had discussed the topic of deadly bears half a dozen times, though today had been the first time Simon had used the word “murder” in connection with bears.
The social workers, police psychologists, and doctors who had interviewed Simon after their parents’ deaths had come away with the same opinion: The healing would take time. They believed that eventually Simon would begin to sort through the things he’d seen at the crime scene in the moments before he’d been hidden under the skirt of Mamm’s dress.
At the time, what little Simon said sounded like one of Grimm’sfairy tales—a bear had attacked their parents but missed seeing Simon hidden under Mamm’s skirts. A bear, Simon insisted. But bears were rare in this part of Pennsylvania. And from what Adam had read, bears had an acute sense of smell, even stronger than bloodhounds. Wouldn’t a bear have sniffed Simon out of hiding?
Besides, a bear could not have pulled the trigger on the handgun that killed their parents.
Adam sighed over the wedge of frustration that stuck in his gut. Simon had been doing so well, but now, with this talk of bears again, Adam didn’t know what to think.
He ducked his head under the water, slicked his hair back, and worked in some shampoo as he considered the best way to help Simon. His brother seemed a bit afraid of the bishop. Maybe a talk with Uncle Nate? Simon had been warming up to him yesterday.
After he rinsed his hair, he looked around for the soap. Nothing in
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