Lifted Up by Angels

by Lurlene McDaniel

  Ethan looked shocked as Leah and Simeon entered the barn. “What is wrong, Simeon?”

  “We ran into each other,” Leah said. “Literally.”

  The blacksmith nodded a greeting but didn’t stop his work. Leah saw that he was Amish by his beard—full on his chin but with no mustache.

  Briefly Simeon told Ethan what had happened. “Are you hurt?” Ethan asked his brother.

  “No. And I have other errands to run for Mr. Fowler.”

  Ethan looked anxious, glancing back to the blacksmith. “Um—I will be finished here shortly and can give you a ride back into town.”

  “I can give him a ride,” Leah said. “Come if you want. I’ll bring you back.”

  “I do not want to cause a burden for you.”

  “I offered, didn’t I?”

  Persuaded, Ethan helped his brother into the backseat and got into the front. Soon they were speeding down the road, radio blaring and wind whipping. Leah cut her eyes to Ethan, saw a look of pure exhilaration on his face and thought, He likes cars.

  When they arrived at Simeon’s place of employment, Ethan held the seat forward as his brother climbed out of the car. “I will return for you at four o’clock in the buggy.”

  Simeon thanked Leah, then skated around the side of the building.

  “Simeon could have been badly hurt today when he fell,” Leah said, checking traffic in her rearview mirror. “When I asked him about safety gear, he said you Amish consider it fancy. Is that true?”

  “Some bishops do not allow their people to use in-line skates at all. We are fortunate that ours is more liberal.”

  “Do you skate?”

  “Yes. And you?”

  “Sure. Maybe we could skate together sometime.”

  “I would like that, Leah.”

  The way he said her name made goose bumps break out on her arms. What was it about him that affected her so? Why was she attracted to him when they had so little in common? On impulse, she asked, “Would you like to see where I live? My apartment isn’t far from here. What am I saying? Nothing in this town is far from here.”

  He laughed. “The town is small, but still too big for many Amish. Too many tourists. They are always following us, taking pictures. It is annoying.”

  She knew that the Amish didn’t like having their photographs taken. She wondered if Ethan still kept the one of her she’d given him in December. “I’m a tourist. Do I annoy you?”

  “Oh, Leah, I am sorry. Not you. You are not annoying.”

  He sounded so stricken that she had to laugh. “I accept your apology.”

  “Yes,” he said suddenly. “Yes, I would like to see where you live, very much.”

  She drove the couple of miles to her apartment, unlocked the door and flung it open. “Tada. Home.”

  He entered slowly, carrying the two bags of groceries she’d all but forgotten about. Many of her things were still in boxes, but the sofa was uncluttered. “Would you like something to drink?”

  He nodded, setting the bags on the countertop that divided the living room from the tiny kitchen. She rummaged to find the soft drinks she’d bought. He asked, “May I look around?”

  “Bathroom’s that way, the bedroom beyond it. Excuse the mess.” She put ice into paper cups while he explored. With a start, she remembered that her lingerie was lying all over the floor. And when Ethan returned to the kitchen area, the redness of his face told her he’d seen every filmy, lacy piece of it. She decided not to mention her unmentionables. “So, what do you think?”

  “I think you are very fortunate to have such a place for your own.”

  “Even though it has electricity?”

  “And running water too.”

  She smiled and handed him a cup. “I don’t know how you Amish live without such stuff. I don’t think I could.”

  “Charity tells me you will come to our barn dance tomorrow night.” He changed the subject.

  “Do you mind?”

  “I would like it very much.”

  The intensity of his gaze again raised goose-flesh along her arms. “Charity says we’ll ride over in your buggy.”

  “It is best not to take your car.”

  “Because I’m an outsider? That won’t change whether or not I drive, you know.”

  “You will meet many tomorrow night who dress as you do, talk as you do, go to English schools and have many English ways. Do not concern yourself with your differences.”

  “But these different ones, are they still Amish?”

  “Some are from less strict districts of Amish, but yes. The important thing is getting together, having a good time.”

  “Will your friend Martha be there?” She hated to ask, but she had to know.

  “Yes,” he said simply.

  “I don’t want people staring at me all night. They won’t, will they?”

  “If they do, it is only because you are so pretty.”

  “I’m just me,” she said. “And to be serious, I’m not sure where I fit in in this world of yours.”

  “I do not know either. Yet you are here.”

  Leah stared into the cola-colored depths of her cup. Since her stay in the hospital, she had become fascinated by the Amish lifestyle. Not that she ever wanted to live without electricity and running water. But there was something appealing about the simplicity of it. “I’m looking into my future and can’t see where I’m going. I graduate next year, and I don’t know if I want to go on to college. My grades are so-so, but I could probably get in if I work hard next year. But that’s the problem. I don’t know what I want.” She turned toward him on the sofa. “You’re lucky in some ways. You know what you want. You know what’s in store for you.”

  He studied her intently before saying, “You are wrong, Leah. I do not know what I want.”

  She blurted out, “But you’re Amish. You told me you like being Amish.”

  “That does not mean that I don’t want to try out English things.”

  Her heart began to hammer. “What things?”

  “Things that make me hungry for what is not Amish.”

  Leah’s chest felt tight. “What does your family think about your trying these things?”

  “I have kept them a secret,” he confessed reluctantly.

  “But why? Charity told me that parents expect their kids to experiment.”

  His cheeks flushed. “I did not want to bring shame upon my father.”

  “When we met in December, you hadn’t tried anything English. I remember the video games and the candy bars.” She wanted to add “and our kiss,” but lacked the courage. “Why start now?”

  “Things have changed since December. Please, I cannot talk about my reasons for deciding not to join in with the others until now.”

  Leah didn’t press him. “So what things have you done?”

  He reached out and stroked her face with his fingertips. His skin felt rough against her smooth, soft cheek. “I have met you.”

  She swallowed hard, feeling as nervous as she had when she was thirteen, the very first time she was about to be kissed. But she wasn’t thirteen. And she had been kissed many times. She squared her chin, determined to tell him what she was feeling. “I don’t want to be some kind of experiment, Ethan.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “I don’t want to be some experience you’re dying to have. You know—smoke behind the barn, drink beer, date an English girl.”

  Ethan looked shocked. “I am not this way, Leah. Yes, I have tried out some of the things you’ve said. All these things are frowned upon by my family. But I have never been with a girl I did not choose to be with. And since I met you last December, there is no other girl that I want as much as I want you.”

  The thudding of her heart made her hands tremble. He was telling her things she wanted to hear, but she wasn’t about to jump in headfirst. She didn’t want to embarrass herself and say or do things that she might regret later. She and Ethan were as different as day and ni
ght. Their attraction for one another was real, but she couldn’t hang her heart on an attraction. “This scares me, Ethan.”

  “I am scared too. But not enough to go away unless you tell me I must.”

  “I—I can’t.” She stared down at her hands.

  “Then I would like to see you as much as I can while you are here this summer. Is this all right with you?”

  It was more than all right, but the knowledge didn’t make her feel carefree and lighthearted. The knowledge was heavy, weighted with an understanding: Ethan was special. If she gave him her heart, he would treasure it. And if he gave her his heart—She cut off her train of thought abruptly. “We have a whole summer,” she said cautiously. “I’ll be with you as much as you want. And when the summer’s over, we’ll decide where we go from here.”

  He raised her chin with his finger and peered into her eyes. His gaze pierced, but it held only honesty and trust. “Yes. This is what I want too.” Then he brushed his lips softly over hers.

  FIVE

  When Leah returned from taking Ethan back to the blacksmith’s, she busied herself with unpacking her remaining boxes and putting her rooms in order. Still, by Sunday evening, she was a bundle of nerves. She kept remembering their conversation. She kept seeing Ethan’s face and hearing his voice. There had been times in her life when, once a guy showed an interest in her, she would drop him because the thrill had been only in the chase. It wasn’t that way with Ethan. He was special to her in ways she didn’t even understand.

  When Leah arrived at the farm, she hugged Rebekah and then climbed into the small, enclosed black buggy with Charity and Ethan. She was careful not to sit too close to Ethan, careful to talk mostly to Charity while they were in the yard and in sight of Mrs. Longacre. Leah saw concern etched in the woman’s face and figured Tillie Longacre didn’t approve of the attachment of any of her children to Leah.

  Ethan clicked with his tongue and slapped the reins against the horse’s rounded rump, and the buggy headed for the gravel road. “The barn dance is at the Yoder farm, a few miles from here,” he explained. “It will not take long to get there.”

  Sandwiched between Charity and Ethan, Leah felt like an oddity. They were dressed in Amish style, plainly. She’d chosen a long denim skirt and a solid white T-shirt and had worn only blusher and pale pink lipstick, but, compared to them, she thought she looked overdone. “I’ve never ridden in a buggy before,” she said, making conversation.

  “It is not fast like your car,” Ethan said.

  “Slow is good sometimes.”

  Charity asked, “Will you take me for a ride in your car as you have my brothers?”

  “Whenever you want.”

  “I will have to come into town with Ethan for such a ride. My papa would not approve.”

  Leah didn’t like being cast in the role of perpetually bad influence, but she hated to tell Charity no. Glancing at Ethan, she said, “I’d like to see those woods where your father cut the Christmas tree for our hospital floor.”

  “I will show the woods to you.”

  Darkness fell and Leah watched the stars come out. Eventually Ethan turned the buggy down a side road and Leah saw a farmhouse and a barn off in the distance, windows aglow with electric lights. “Is this an Amish farm? I see lights.”

  “The Yoders are not as strict as Papa,” Charity said. “That is why so many like to gather here.”

  The barn was surrounded by buggies as well as automobiles. Music spilled from an open door. Ethan pulled back on the reins. The buggy lurched to a halt. He hopped out, tied the horse to a railing and came around to help his sister down. Then he reached up to help Leah. She stood, and the buggy swayed. “I’m not used to floors that keep moving after the vehicle stops,” she said with a nervous laugh. The horse shifted, and Ethan’s strong hands gripped her waist. He lifted her as effortlessly as if she’d been a doll. She stood on the ground facing him, his hands still encircling her waist, and for a moment she could scarcely catch her breath. He smelled fresh and clean, like soap. He’d left his hat on the seat, and his homespun shirt was open at the neck, making him look less Amish. For my sake? she wondered.

  Once inside, Leah tried to ignore all the eyes that stared, the heads that turned. The gathering was large, full of kids in their early teens, dressed in a mix of plain Amish and modern clothing: jeans, denim shirts, khaki slacks and stylish T-shirts. She felt as if she’d stumbled into a stage production where everyone was in costume. The animated conversation from the different groups slowed as people checked her out. Ethan gripped her hand, and he and Charity led her over to a cluster of girls dressed Amish-style.

  “This is my friend Leah,” Charity explained. “You know, the one I told you about from the hospital.”

  The girls were polite, but curiosity burned in their eyes. In the background, conversation grew louder and someone put on a CD. Funky music blared from speakers set up in the corner of the barn.

  “Come,” Ethan said. “We’ll get some cookies.”

  Leah was certain she’d never choke one down, but she went with him to a long table filled with refreshments. From the corner of her eye, she saw a group of boys at the end of the table. Several were holding beer cans. “Are they drinking beer?” she asked.

  “Yes. Some of the boys sneak it in sometimes,” he said, giving a disapproving look. “But it should not be here.” He looked at her. “If you’d like one, I can get it for you. I know they have more outside.”

  “No way. I hate the taste of the stuff.” Leah was surprised to see the boys drinking. “I guess I have a lot to learn about you Amish,” Leah said, taking a cup of punch from him.

  “Things are not always what they seem, Leah. Everyone here is free to try the things of the world. But we are still accountable to our families and our traditions.”

  “So I’m learning.” She wondered what was going on inside Ethan, where he fit in in this strange no-man’s-land of Amish tradition and English worldliness. She felt a kinship with him. They were both searching for a place where they belonged.

  Three of the boys dressed English-style drifted over to them. They stopped in a semicircle in front of Leah and Ethan. The biggest guy, standing over six feet with hands the size of footballs, spoke to Ethan in German. Ethan answered in German in a tone that sounded sharp. Then Ethan said, “In English, Jonah. Say what you want to say in English.”

  Jonah acknowledged Leah with his eyes. “It is not common for English to attend our parties,” he said. “Especially English that nobody knows.”

  She squared her chin. “I’m Leah Lewis-Hall, and I’m working and living in Nappanee this summer. I do know some people here. Not you, though. Glad to meet you.” She smiled, although her insides quivered like jelly.

  “And I am Jonah Dewberry. My sister Martha is over there.” He pointed to a row of chairs where several girls sat looking at them. Martha wore jeans, boots, and a blue T-shirt. Her long dark hair hung loose down her back. With dismay, Leah saw that she was quite pretty.

  Martha gave a little wave, and Ethan nodded at her, then turned back to Jonah. “Now that we have all met, perhaps you will move out of our way,” Ethan said.

  Jonah moved aside, and Ethan stepped around him, taking Leah with him. “Ethan,” Jonah said, “tell me, do English girls schnitzel as well as Amish girls?”

  Ethan’s face turned bright red. “You must find this out on your own, Jonah,” he replied evenly. “If you can find an English girl who will schnitzel you.”

  Jonah’s face reddened. He leaned closer. “I have another question. Now that you are dating English, will you become one of us?”

  “I am one of you.”

  “You still dress Amish. You still hold yourself apart. Separate. You are proud.”

  Leah knew that to call an Amish person proud was an insult, and she could see by the way Ethan stiffened that the remark had hit home. She held her breath.

  Ethan turned and looked Jonah directly in the eye. “What I do is my bu
siness. Who I decide to be with is my choice. I am leaving with Leah now. Will you take Charity home for me?”

  Jonah nodded. “If she will come with me.”

  “If you ask her, she will go.”

  Once outside, Leah stopped short. She was glad to be out of the barn, but she felt confused. “Wait a minute, Ethan. I don’t get it. At first I thought you and Jonah would come to blows. I mean, most of the guys I know would have been swinging fists at each other by now. It’s clear to me that Jonah didn’t like you bringing me here. He thinks you should be with his sister.”

  “I do not care what he thinks.” Ethan helped Leah into the buggy and untied his horse from the railing. “Jonah is Amish. I am Amish. Amish do not fight, no matter what. Not even in wars for the country. It is our way.”

  Leah settled onto the hard buggy seat. “But you were angry with each other.”

  “That is true.”

  “So why did you ask him to take Charity home? That doesn’t seem like a nice thing to do to her.”

  “Jonah cares for my sister.” He clicked his tongue and the horse went forward. “He would jump at the chance to be with her.”

  “But what does Charity want? Maybe she didn’t want to go home with that—that Neanderthal!”

  Ethan chuckled. “Oh, she likes Jonah Dewberry very much. He has taken her home in his buggy many times, but lately he runs with older, wilder boys. Boys who may not return to Amish ways.”

  Leah sighed in exasperation. The whole thing sounded like a soap opera to her. “Is Jonah her boyfriend? I mean, does she like this guy? He seemed very unfriendly.”

  Ethan slipped his arm around Leah’s waist and pulled her closer to him on the buggy seat. “He is jealous because I came with the prettiest girl.”

  Leah accepted his compliment silently, knowing it wasn’t the truth. She’d been around enough to know that the Amish kids weren’t going to welcome her into their midst regardless of who had invited her to come along. It might turn out to be a long summer!

  Lost in thought, Leah listened to the clopping of the horse’s hooves on the roadway and watched the late-rising moon peek from behind a cloud bank. She recognized the Longacre property as the buggy turned onto it and felt a twinge of disappointment. Although the dance had been a flop, she’d hoped that their evening together might have lasted longer.