Lifted Up by Angels (3 page)

Ethan’s father gave Ethan a hard look. The grandfather said, “Let him take the horse, Jacob. It is his choice.”

Mr. Longacre gave an imperceptible nod, and although Leah knew something out of the ordinary had occurred, she didn’t have a clue what it was. Her stomach continued to tighten, and by the time the meal was over and the table cleared, she wanted to jump out of her skin.

When the women began cleaning up and the men retired to the barn, Leah followed Charity out into the yard. Night had fallen, and without a porch light, Leah could hardly see two feet in front of her. Charity began to fill a large pot with water from the outside pump.

Leah caught her friend’s arm. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it? Please tell me, Charity. What have I done to offend your family?”

C
harity set the pot down. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I could tell something was wrong tonight,” Leah said in a rush. “Everyone hardly said a word at the dinner table.”

“Oh, Leah, forgive me. I forget you are not accustomed to our ways.”

“No, I’m not,” Leah said, quietly. “And now I feel the differences more than ever. I’m English. Your family dislikes me. Maybe I’d better just go away.”

“Do not say such a thing. My family
does
like you. You were so kind to Rebekah in the hospital. We will never forget that.” Charity took Leah’s hands in the dark. “Let me try to explain
things to you. It is true we do not talk much at meals. For us, mealtime is not a time for idle chatter. It is a time to reflect on God’s bounty and generosity to us.”

“Your father and Ethan talked. And they didn’t exactly sound happy, either. What’s the big deal about taking a horse to get a shoe?”

Charity dropped Leah’s hands. “Walk with me,” she said.

Leah went with her to the edge of the yard, where the light from the kitchen windows dropped off. An old wagon wheel had been propped against a large rock and a flower bed had been planted around it. The sound of chirping crickets broke the stillness, and fireflies flickered in the darkness.

“Family is very important to us Amish,” Charity said.

Family was important to Leah too. All her life she had wanted to belong to a family—a real family, not the kind her mother kept manufacturing. Her mother couldn’t make any marriage work. She kept getting divorced, and she and Leah kept moving from place to place. Leah had never known her real father, and she had seen her beloved grandmother—also someone her mother didn’t get along with—die of
cancer. Leah still felt keenly the loss of her grandmother, her father, and the family life she’d never known. “I can see how close your family is,” she said, “but I know there was something going on tonight between Ethan and your father. Is it me? Tell me the truth.”

Charity didn’t answer right away, and when she did speak, her words were halting, as if her thoughts were difficult to express. “Among us Amish, no man is baptized until he knows he wants to accept our ways and live according to all Amish traditions. After baptism, he becomes a church member. He marries and works. He obeys the church elders and lives simply.”

Confused, Leah asked, “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because Ethan is not yet baptized.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that he still has freedom to choose what he wants to do with his life,” Charity said quietly.

“What kind of freedom?” This news surprised Leah, for she had assumed that the Amish way of life was ordained from birth.

“When an Amish boy turns sixteen, he is free to experiment with worldly things. It is called
rumspringa
—‘taking a fling.’ All our fathers
have done so, and they give their sons much leeway. Boys are exempt from chores and even church on Sundays. They are allowed to stay out all night on weekends with other Amish teens at parties and dances. Parents don’t forbid this kind of thing because the Bible teaches that forbidden fruit becomes more appealing. Amish parents hope that if they look the other way, then their boy will eventually grow tired of the pleasures of the world and come back to simple ways. Most of them do.”

Leah asked, “What about you girls? Do you ‘experiment’ too?”

“Yes.”

“Have you?”

Charity was quiet, and Leah wondered if she’d pushed her friend too far. She’d already heard more than she’d bargained for. Finally Charity said, “I have played with my hairstyle. And put on makeup and worn English clothes. I—I have allowed a boy to kiss me.”

Leah almost smiled. She’d been doing these things for years. But she could see that for Charity, such actions could be daring. “I’d like to hear about your boyfriend.”

“You will not tease me?”

“Why would I tease you?”

“It is—” Charity stopped, then started again. “Sometimes teasing is done among us. I do like it. Ethan does not like it, but it is the way of our community. Others think it is funny to tease. That is why we keep our feelings inside. That is why we hide the things we do from others’ eyes—even from our family. Especially when it comes to having a boyfriend or girlfriend. When a boy invites a girl to ride home in his buggy from Sunday-night singing, he is careful to conceal it from his friends, because they will tease him.”

The implications of Ethan’s asking Martha to ride in his buggy took on new meaning to Leah. If he would risk being teased by his friends and family, then he must truly care about Martha. Leah felt jealous of an Amish girl she’d never met or even laid eyes on. “And so, is Ethan starting to experiment? To test? Is that why your father sounded cross with him?”

“Ethan is testing, yes. But he does not tell me much. He keeps to himself, and none of us knows what he’s doing. Or thinking.” There was hurt in her voice.

“But Ethan is seventeen, and when we met in the hospital, he didn’t seem to be experimenting.” Leah had trouble accepting what
Charity was telling her because it went against everything she’d come to believe about the Amish.
All-night parties? No church attendance?

“There were reasons why Ethan chose not to begin at sixteen, but I cannot speak of them.”

That bothered Leah, but she couldn’t force Charity to tell her. Instead she asked, “What other things do Amish boys do when they’re taking their flings?”

“Some get fancy buggies. They buy radios and CD players. Some get driver’s licenses and some even own cars. More liberal Amish parents allow the cars to be parked behind their barns.”

“And these parents just pretend not to see it?” Leah was amazed. “What else?”

“They wear worldly clothing. Drink alcohol. Smoke,” Charity answered, sounding uncomfortable. “Other worldly vices.”

Like trying out worldly girls?
The light of understanding turned on in Leah’s head. She could be nothing more than an experiment to Ethan. She could be just a diversion in his fling-taking. She swallowed hard. “How about drugs?” she asked, embarrassed to let Charity know what she was thinking.

“Never. Well … I’ve never heard of anyone
around here trying drugs. Boys are still expected to work on the farm or to take a respectable job in town or at a factory. They still live at home, and when at home they must be part of the family.”

“How long do they get to experiment?” Leah kept her tone calm. Inside, she was still reeling.

“Until they decide to be baptized. Or leave the community.”

Leah saw that Amish boys were no different than other boys she’d known. She felt disappointed.

As if sensing her disillusionment, Charity said, “Amish people are not perfect, Leah. We separate ourselves from the world, but what is easier? Giving up something you’ve never done, or choosing to live plainly
after
you have tried the English way of life? What good is a sacrifice if it isn’t truly a sacrifice?”

The screen door opened and Charity’s mother called for her to come inside.

Feeling guilty for keeping Charity talking instead of doing her chores, Leah said, “I guess I should be going.”

“Since tomorrow is Saturday, we have many preparations to make for Sunday,” Charity explained. “We don’t work on the Sabbath, so
everything must be done ahead of time. Tomorrow, I will make bread and rolls for Sunday dinner.”

Leah realized that Charity wasn’t inviting her to join them. “I start work Monday, and I have lots to do before then,” she said, knowing it wasn’t the truth. She had nothing to do.

Quickly Charity glanced over her shoulder. “Why don’t you come to our Sunday-night barn dance? Amish kids will be there from all over. You can meet them.”

“But I’m English.”

“You will be welcomed because you are with us. We will ride together in Ethan’s buggy. We will have a good time.”

Leah wasn’t sure she should tag along. But Charity’s invitation sounded sincere. “Well … maybe …”

“Come to the house Sunday around six o’clock,” Charity said hurriedly. “I must go inside now.”

“Tell your Mom thanks for dinner,” Leah called as Charity returned to the house. She stood in the yard for a few minutes, feeling alone, and wondering if she’d done the right thing by coming to Nappanee for the summer.
She couldn’t stand the thought that her mother might have been right.

And now that Charity had explained about fling-taking, Leah was more confused than ever. Had all that she and Ethan shared in the hospital been part of some lifestyle experiment?

Leah went to her car. The brightness of her headlights made her squint. She turned toward the road, looking back only once. In an upstairs window, she saw a curtain move. In the window, backlit by a flickering lamp, Ethan stood peering out at her. Her heart ached. She gunned the engine and the tires spit gravel as she left the old road for the highway.

A phone call from her mother and Neil to say goodbye before they took off woke Leah on Saturday morning. After hanging up, she realized she’d never gone to the grocery store and didn’t have a thing in the house to eat. She showered, dressed in jeans, grabbed her car keys and headed for the closest fast-food restaurant. After eating, she drove slowly around the town that was to be her home for the next three months.
Heads turned at the sight of her bright red car and made her feel self-conscious.

She saw Amish buggies in parking lots and in front of stores. They looked strange, dark and antiquated, amid all the modern cars and pickup trucks. The horses seemed unfazed by the noise of traffic. She pulled alongside a buggy at a traffic light, and the horse never gave her a glance. “Want to race?” she asked the uninterested animal.

Leah shopped for groceries, put the sacks in the backseat and headed to her apartment. Just as she pulled into an intersection, from out of nowhere, a boy wearing in-line skates zipped in front of her car. She hit the brakes hard. He threw his hands against her fender, careened backward, and landed hard on the asphalt.

Heart pounding, Leah cried out, turned off the engine and jumped from the car. “Are you all right?” She hurried to where the boy sat dazed on the ground. When she got to him, she gasped. Her car had just struck Simeon Longacre.