Lifted Up by Angels (14 page)

“I do not know.”

“I don’t see Jonah either.”

“They are here, I’m sure. Charity would not go off the property.”

“I hope you’re right. Jonah had too much to drink.”

Ethan spread out two sleeping bags. “Come here, Leah. I will tuck you in.”

She crawled inside the sleeping bag, and Ethan fastened the side. “I’ll bet this is how a caterpillar feels in a cocoon,” she said.

Ethan chuckled and wiggled into the sleeping bag next to hers. “Sleep fast. The sun will be up soon.”

Leah yawned. She snuggled closer to Ethan. “My nose itches.”

He kissed the tip. “Did that help?”

“Much better.” She felt Ethan’s warm breath against her cheek. Her sleepiness vanished and her heart began to beat faster. “I’ve never spent the night with a guy before!”

“I am glad I am the first,” he whispered. He freed his arms from his sleeping bag and caressed her cheek.

“No fair,” she told him. “I can’t touch you.”

“It is better this way. If you began to touch me, I would not want you to stop.”

“Stopping is hard,” she said. Her blood sizzled and her pulse pounded.

He nuzzled her neck. “Leah, I would not ever do anything to shame you.”

She knew what he meant. He would not pressure her for more. Leah realized how easy it would be to let herself go with him. So very easy. “You are a person of honor,” she said. The
word sounded old-fashioned, but it was the right word to describe Ethan. He was
honorable.
He didn’t know how else to be. He made Leah feel cherished.

“Good night, my Leah.” Ethan’s arms enveloped her, sleeping bag and all. Soon she heard his rhythmic breathing and knew he’d fallen asleep.

My Leah.
She
was
his Leah. For all their differences, for all the chasms that separated them, she belonged to Ethan. And she hadn’t an earthly idea what she was going to do about it when the summer ended.

Dawn’s pink fingers streaked the sky as Leah struggled to awaken. The aroma of freshly brewing coffee made her stomach growl. Beside her, Ethan’s sleeping bag was empty. She sat up and rubbed her sleep-blurred eyes. She saw Ethan hunched down over a small campfire, filling two cups with coffee. She combed her hair with her fingers, wishing she had a brush.

Ethan returned and handed her a coffee cup. “If you’d rather, I will get you a soda.”

“No, coffee’s fine.” Leah took the cup from him and warmed her hands.

They sat together on the quilt and watched the red ball of the sun rise over the dew-drenched meadow. The morning haze began to lift, and the sky turned from pink to blue. The smell of coffee mingled with the scent of sizzling bacon. Leah said, “I had no idea mornings could be so gorgeous. The sun’s always up by the time I get to work. I sleep in on the weekends.”

“I have always known,” Ethan said. “It is my favorite part of the day.” His deep love for the land shimmered in his eyes. “Now that you know, maybe you will also want to get up at five-thirty every day.”

“Naw,” she said, scrunching her face. He laughed.

Charity walked over and sat down with a heavy sigh. She looked haggard. “I thought the morning would never come,” she said.

“Where were you all night?” Leah asked.

“I was caring for Jonah. He became very sick.” She stole a glance at Ethan, who appeared uninterested.

Leah said, “He drank too much, didn’t he?”

Charity nodded. “I’m sure he did not mean to.”

Angry at Jonah for spoiling Charity’s evening, Leah said, “You should have let him suffer by himself.”

“I could not,” Charity said miserably. “He had no one else.”

“Maybe he’ll think twice before drinking that much ever again.”

“Maybe.”

Ethan spoke. “Jonah is trying to prove he’s a man. But this is not the way a man acts.”

“Don’t criticize him,” Charity said testily. “He will find his way back. I know he will.”

“It is best if you ride home with Leah and me—”

“We can stop by my apartment and freshen up,” Leah interjected. She didn’t want Ethan and Charity arguing—especially over Jonah. He wasn’t worth it, to her way of thinking.

“I will change my clothes at your place.” Charity looked down at the skirt Leah had loaned her. “I’m afraid this is messed up. I will clean it for you.”

“It’s okay. It’ll wash.”

“I am sorry, Leah.”

Leah didn’t care about the skirt. She cared
about Charity, and she hoped her friend wasn’t making a mistake in caring about Jonah.

“It’s all right,” Leah assured Charity. “The important thing is that you’re all right. Did you have any fun at all?”

Charity’s smile looked wan. “It was not what I expected.”

“Maybe next year will be better.”

“Maybe.” Charity stared out across the meadow. “By next year, perhaps Jonah will have tired of his fling.”

Leah hoped so. She recalled the secret of Eli, Ethan and Charity’s brother. Would Jonah forsake his Amish upbringing as Eli had? Leah knew Jonah could break Charity’s heart.

Leah didn’t even let on to Charity that she knew about Eli. But she couldn’t look at Rebekah and not think it a shame that the child didn’t know she had another brother. As for her feelings toward Mr. Longacre, Leah was torn. Her own father had walked out of her life when she’d been a small child, and all her life she’d wondered why. What had driven him off? She had no answers.

But Mr. Longacre had disowned his eldest son. Eli’s desire to go to high school and college seemed such a small deviation from the Amish lifestyle. This sobered Leah and disturbed her greatly. If Mr. Longacre would ignore his own flesh and blood, what chance did
she
have of his ever accepting her, a stranger and English to boot? The problem with the Amish, Leah decided, was that they never made allowances for individuality.

And yet, Leah had to admit that despite its inflexibility, she was attracted to the Amish lifestyle, to the Amish sense of community and togetherness. She wondered why people couldn’t have it both ways.

Once the July Fourth weekend was over, the ranks of tourists thinned considerably. Leah went back to work at the inn. Kathy was replaced by an Amish girl named Esther, who was so shy, it was more than a week before Leah heard the girl say a word. No matter how many friendly overtures Leah made, Esther couldn’t be coaxed from her shell. If Leah asked her a question, Esther turned bright red, stared down at the floor, and barely mumbled an answer. Leah missed the talkative Kathy immensely.

Leah spent the weekends with Ethan. He arrived at her apartment on Saturday mornings, stayed with friends in town on Saturday nights, and spent all day Sunday with her. This meant that he was not attending Amish church services at all. She couldn’t imagine that Ethan’s weekend absences won her points with his parents.

She found things to keep her and Ethan busy when they were together. They watched videos, went to movies, skated at The Rink, and drove into the countryside for picnics and shopping sprees. On the first Saturday in August, he took her horseback riding.

“Is he safe?” Leah asked, looking at the big horse standing in the yard of the riding stable. “I don’t think he likes me, Ethan.”

Ethan shimmied up his mount as if he’d been born to ride a horse. “The owner tells me your horse is very tame. He will not harm you. I thought you once lived in Texas.”

The horse turned its neck and stared at Leah as if to say,
“Are you getting on or not?”

Leah glanced up at Ethan. “You’ve watched too many movies. Most Texans wisely drive cars.” She took a deep breath and put her foot into the stirrup. With an effort, she hauled herself
onto the horse’s back, then held on to the saddle horn and reins for dear life. “Okay, I’m on.”

Ethan laughed aloud. “If you could see your face.”

“I’m so glad I’m entertaining you.” She shifted. The horse snorted. “How do I put him in gear?”

“Give him some slack on the reins, dig your knees into his side, and he will go.”

Leah did as she was told, and the horse broke into a trot. She almost lost her balance, fell forward and hugged the horse’s neck. “Where’s the brake on this thing?”

Ethan came up alongside and took her horse’s bridle, slowing the animal to a walk. “When you want him to stop, pull back on the reins. You must show him who is boss.”

“No contest. He’s the boss. He’s bigger.” Leah’s legs felt awkward spread around the horse and saddle. “Does this ever get more comfortable?”

“It is customary to feel sore at first. But once you get used to riding—”

“I’ll be too old to do it.”

They rode a well-defined trail that cut
through the countryside, following a stream. Before long, Leah began to relax.

“I will tell you something,” Ethan said, breaking the silence. “I am learning how to drive a car.”

“You are? But that’s good. Isn’t it?” Leah realized he was further defying his father and his Amish upbringing. “Who’s teaching you?”

“Jonah.”

“I’m sure Jonah gets a thrill out of seeing you try more and more English things.”

“You sound as if you do not approve.”

“I didn’t mean it that way. I think you should learn to drive if you want to. Will you ever own a car?”

“I do not think so.”

“Tell me about driving. Do you like it?”

“It is hard not to go too fast. And there is much to remember. A car has many buttons and switches. A horse is much simpler.” He patted his horse’s neck.

“But a horse doesn’t have soft leather seats.” Leah squirmed. She couldn’t get comfortable in the hard saddle.

“But a car cannot put a soft nose on the back of your neck and nuzzle you.”

“I thought that’s what guys were for.”

Ethan burst out laughing. He looked over at her, his expression growing serious. “Sometimes—more since I have known you—I feel locked up. Like I am inside a box.”

She remembered what he’d said about traveling and seeing the world. “I’d feel bad if you were trying things just because of me.”

“It is my right to test, remember?”

“Well, if you ever want to get away from all this, come see me. Neil owns a farm, you know, so it won’t be a total change.”

“What kind of farm?” Ethan sounded interested.

“Oh, not like your farm,” Leah added hastily. “Neil bought this big piece of land at an auction. He has a big house on it. You see, he lived in Detroit all his life and decided to retire out in the wide-open spaces.”

“A farm that does not grow food?” Ethan sounded amazed. “Does he have a barn for dairy cows?”

“He keeps cars in the barn.”

Ethan turned and stared, as if to see if she was teasing him. “Cars? In a barn?”

“He collects antique cars.” Leah felt almost apologetic. “They’re worth a lot of money. And
the barn’s specially made to keep the cars well preserved.”

“Land is the greatest thing a man can own, but I cannot imagine owning a farm that grows nothing, has no livestock, and stores cars in a good barn.” Ethan shook his head.

Leah should have figured that to Ethan’s frugal Amish mind, owning land merely for the pleasure of having space around you would make no sense. Worse, it made her lifestyle seem wasteful and foolish. “Collecting cars is Neil’s hobby. Sort of like that train we saw at the toy store. Just bigger. Don’t you Amish have any hobbies?”

“Working a farm does not leave us with much extra time, Leah. Many of us would like to be farmers, but farmland is not plentiful any longer, so we must become carpenters or have our own stores. And I do not want you thinking that I am critical of Neil. It is just that to hear of good land lying fallow is a shock to me.”

“I guess I understand,” Leah told him. “I’ve just never thought of it that way before. Mom and I have lived in apartments and trailers all our lives, so being out in the country, with all this land around me, is a real change. I
didn’t even like it at first. It was lonely and miles from anything that even resembled a mall.”

“Do you still not like living there?”

“I’m used to it now. And being here all summer—going out to your farm and seeing how much you like the great outdoors—has made me feel better about it.”

Ethan stared off into the distance, across open fields and rolling meadows. “I cannot imagine being stuck someplace where there is no land around me. Where there are only cars and noise and too many people. The land makes me feel connected to God and all that he has made.”

Leah couldn’t imagine not being around cars and people and some kind of city life. She had not felt the gap between herself and Ethan so keenly in weeks. She felt it now, just as she felt the discomfort of the hard saddle and the plodding horse beneath her. Their ways of life were poles apart. Could anything ever close the gap between them?