A Simple Winter: A Seasons of Lancaster Novel (44 page)

“Remy, I need you in this venture. It’s time to step up and follow in your old man’s footsteps.”

“Would you listen to me?” She lowered the opera glasses and swung toward him. “I’ve spent all this time in editorial to work my way up. I’ve written a piece I’m really proud of, and … I don’t know, it seems like a start. Did Arlene show it to you?”

He waved off the question. “What do you care about editorial? Any English major can do that job.”

“Thanks for the show of support.” Turning the opera glasses in her hands, Remy thought of her article and the eye-opening experience she’d had getting the story. Somehow that amounted to more than anything she could ever write. Was that why her daily job seemed lackluster now?

“My point is, your talents are being wasted there, and I need
you in PR. Are you going to fester in a dead-end job or reach for the golden ring?”

“You know, I’d better go or I’ll be late for the editorial meeting.” She turned to leave.

“This is a great opportunity,” he barked. “Pure gold! The golden ring.”

“Gold is overvalued,” she called over her shoulder as she headed for her meeting.

“Does anyone have anything else?” Miles asked in an attempt to wrap up the meeting.

“I do.” Remy lifted her hand. “I was wondering when you’re going to run my Amish story. It’s been copyedited and proofread, and …” She noticed Arlene was uncharacteristically staring down at her notes. “What’s the schedule?”

Miles’s face puckered in concern. “Arlene and I both liked that story, but, unfortunately, it’s not a go for us. I’m sorry, Remy.”

Disappointment peeled at the edges of her composure. “Do you need some revisions?”

“That’s not it.” Miles hesitated. “We just—”

“It’s out of our hands.” Arlene removed her glasses and met Remy’s gaze. “We got a veto from above.”

“Above?” Remy squinted. “But you’re the editor in chief. Who …?”

“Herb McCallister killed it. Wouldn’t sign off on it.” Arlene’s mouth curled with disdain. “Talk to him about it and see if he’ll soften. We can’t publish it without his okay.”

As the meeting broke up Remy remained in her chair, crestfallen. How could Herb do this to her? A power play from her own father.

Beside her, Yasmina squeezed her shoulder encouragingly. “What are you going to do?”

“If I know Herb, he’s got some trick up his sleeve.” She rose, determined to maintain her composure with her colleagues watching. “I’m going to straighten this out.”

She strode down the hall, the carpeting in the executive corridor mushy under her feet. It was all so pompous and fake, the posturing and decoration. Remy yearned for something real—a blade of grass, a chunk of sky.

“He’s on the phone,” Viola said, but Remy stormed past her desk and pushed into the office.

“Why did you kill my story?”

He turned to her, his mouth still moving, finger to the earpiece of his phone.

“Dad, I asked you a question.”

“And I’m on the phone here, can’t you see that? Hold on a second.”

“No, I’m not holding on. I’ve been waiting for years, Herb. I keep waiting but you’re never really here for me.”

He let out a groan. “I’ll call you right back,” he said, then tossed the earpiece on the desk. “Okay, you got me. Here I am.”

“I just want an answer. Why did you nix my story?”

“Because I’m sick of hearing about the Amish. Enough with the Plain People obsession. You’ve got other things that require your attention now. Namely, the PR job. The convention. Vegas.”

“Oh, Dad. If you were worried about an obsession, why didn’t you talk to me? What you did was hurtful.”

“But it got your attention, right? Am I right?”

“Not in a good way.”

“Okay, here’s the deal. If you want your story to run, I can do that, but I need something in return. Step up and take the PR job.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, unable to believe that her own
father could be so manipulative. Striving for composure, she took a deep breath and focused on the high-rise building across the way.

Those squares of light were like the office she’d peered into earlier.

Desk cubbies full of lonely people and stale, static air.

“It’s time to grow some backbone, Remy,” Herb prodded.

“You’re right,” she said. “You’re absolutely right. I’ve been so spineless when it comes to you, Herb.” She met her father’s moss green eyes. Empty eyes, really.

“Forget the story,” she said. “I’m taking it to the
Herald.
”

“You can’t do that!” he yelled.

“It’s too late. I’m done here. I quit.” She turned toward the door.

“Oh, really? Then I
quit
paying for your doorman apartment. How would you like that?”

His jab hurt at first, but then, a moment later, it all became clear. She had no life here. Her apartment and her job had become traps … traps that she needed to free herself from.

By cutting her off, Herb was actually liberating her.

“Thank you,” she said aloud.

“What?” Herb snapped from behind her.

She paused, wheeled on her father. “Thanks. I’ve never felt so free. I’ll start packing my things.”

He sneered. “You can’t get off that easy. I know you, Remy. You’ll never make it on your own.”

Watch me
. She walked away, the air around her popping with energy.
Just watch me
.

“And then I walked out … just like that.” Speaking on her cell phone from an overstuffed chair in a downtown bookstore, Remy gave Dakota the high points of her day.

“Honey, I am so proud of you.” Dakota’s voice, which sounded grainy as usual, reassured her. “You cut the ties that were strangling you, and that had to be doubly hard with your father being boss man.”

“I just couldn’t take it anymore. Yeah, Herb’s a pain in the neck but he was just the last straw. I realized that nothing was going to make me happy there. I felt like an invisible person.”

“How’s that?”

“I showed up for work every day, but no one really saw me. And despite all the time I was away in Lancaster County, it didn’t seem to matter that I was gone.”

“Ouch. Did you always feel that way at the
Post
?”

“Always.” But not in Halfway. There, she had mattered.

“So … what’s next? Do you want to hop on a train and hang here for a few days?”

“Don’t be mad.” Remy turned toward the window of the big bookstore. It was the middle of the day, but sunlight couldn’t reach between the buildings. “But I want to go back to Halfway.”

“Why would I be mad at that? And … well, what would you do there?”

“For starters, I’d like to meet with one of the ministers from Adam’s congregation. Sadie said she would go with me for support.”

“You’re serious about this Amish thing?” Dakota’s voice held the weight of their years of friendship. “Even without Adam?”

Remy sighed. “Even without him. But I need to know more. Meeting with a preacher is a way to start. There’s also the matter of getting to know the rest of the Amish community. As you pointed out when we last spoke, I spent nearly two weeks with the Kings, but I don’t know much about the rest of the community. I need to see if it’s a good fit for me. Maybe I can get a job in one of Halfway’s shops.”

“I think that’s a good plan. Just promise me you won’t go getting baptized without letting me know first. Even by snail mail?”

Remy laughed. “Relax. The baptism ceremony isn’t until next autumn. We’ll talk lots before then.”

“Just saying … I’m not going to lose you, honey. Share you, yes, but you need to stay in touch.” After a pause, Dakota added, “So … what if you run into Adam while you’re in Halfway?”

“I can always hope for the best. I still think of him all the time.”

“Of course you do. You fell in love with that guy, and I know you won’t stalk him or anything, but I can tell you haven’t given up completely.”

“I fell in love with Adam and his whole world,” Remy said. “Now I have to see if the attraction is real. I can’t make this commitment without being one hundred percent sure of it.”

“Then go for it, honey,” Dakota said. “Give it all you’ve got.”

The next day, Remy found a toll-free number for Nancy’s Nutty Muesli Bars online. As she pressed the button to speak to a real person, she paced through her apartment, wondering if she would miss this place. Funny, but she hadn’t given it a second thought when she was snowbound in Halfway. The music on the line ended, and an older woman’s voice said: “This is Nancy Briggs. What can I do you for?”

“Nancy, it’s Remy McCallister.” As Nancy was never one to mince words, Remy cut right to the chase. “You said you needed some help with production, and it looks like I’m in need of a job.”

“Let me think about that. I know you’re a hard worker. Any experience in the snack food industry?”

“Well, I did help you mix up that batch of muesli. I love to bake,
and I would work for cheap. Room and board, until I can prove my worth—”

“We need to pay you a wage, too. I’m not in the habit of bringing in indentured servants. But we’ll figure out details when you get here. When can you start?”

Remy laughed. “Tomorrow.” The promise of escaping the city lifted a heavy burden from her shoulders. It was a move away from a lonely past and a plunge into the only future she could imagine. A life among the Amish. A life within a community.

Remy was going home.

he ground isn’t frozen anymore,” Gabe remarked as Jonah stabbed the shovel deep into the earth. “I guess spring is really here.” At this rate they would be ready to set the fence posts and pour cement this afternoon.

Adam scraped some of the loose dirt away, blinking as the sight of his brother digging brought him back to the grim memory of digging their parents’ graves.

He had shared the task with Jonah and some cousins. They had needed pickaxes to break through the frozen crust, and Adam had put his anger into it, beating the earth with all the regret of a wayward son. Even after the first cracks, the frozen parcel of dirt held tight beneath the pick, as if to say the earth was not ready to accept his parents’ bodies.

To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.…