Page 36 of Outsider

“Hold my beer and watch this,” she mutters as she takes hold of the bucket.

The calf nudges the pail, and she hefts a laugh. “Wow. He’s a hungry little squirt.”

“You’re a natural,” Adam tells her.

“Look at him go,” she whispers.

“His name’s Leroy,” Sammy reminds us as he kicks straw around, spreading it.

“I dated a Leroy once,” Gina murmurs. “He wasn’t nearly as cute as this little guy.”

That’s when I notice that everyone’s watching the calf—except for Adam. His eyes are on Gina.

CHAPTER 11

A few minutes later, while the children are helping Adam set up a cot for Sammy in the mudroom, so the boy can “keep an eye on the calf” overnight, Gina and I stand in the living room at the front window, looking out at the storm.

“So what’s the story on Adam?” she asks.

“I’ve known him since I was a kid. We lost touch when I left. He’s a good guy.”

“I haven’t seen a wife.”

“She died.” I look at her, wondering about her curiosity. “They used a midwife here at the house and there was some kind of medical emergency during childbirth.”

“Did the kid…”

I shake my head. “A baby boy. He didn’t make it.”

“That’s a tough break,” she says. “Losing two people in one day. How long ago did she die?”

“A couple years,” I reply, remembering the funeral, a stone-faced Adam, and the utter silence of the children as they’d clung to him and watched their mamm laid to rest for all of eternity.

“The Amish believe in life beyond death,” I tell her. “That’s a comfort when you lose someone.”

“I’ve never been big on the whole faith thing.”

I offer her a half smile. “If you were Amish I suspect you’d get excommunicated pretty quickly.”

She laughs. “You know, Kate, for an Amish dude, Adam’s a nice-looking guy. Is he—”

“He’s off-limits,” I say before she can finish.

She stares at me, weighing my response. “Well, damn, Burkholder, it’s not like I’m going to jump his bones or something.”

When I say nothing, she moves closer to the window, parts the covering, and peers outside. “For what it’s worth, I don’t do that anymore.”

“He’s from a different world than we are,” I tell her. “He’s religious. There are a lot of rules. People making judgments. That’s all I’m going to say about it.”

“Forget I asked.” Sighing, she looks out at the snow. “Any idea how much longer this damn storm is going to last?”

“I checked the weather app on my cell a couple hours ago. It’s supposed to let up tomorrow.”

“If someone finds that truck, it won’t take them long to find me.”

“We’ll get to it as soon as we can. Pull you out of the ditch and bring it back here. As it is now, we don’t even know when the roads will be passable.”

At the mention of the coming day, the weight of the situation we face settles over me, as dark and cold as the storm outside. “We’re going to have to make some decisions,” I tell her. “Figure out how to handle this. Do you have an attorney?”