Lifted Up by Angels (7 page)

Ethan scooted closer. “My haircut is not important. Would you like me to go with you to your appointment?”

“I’ll have to go during the week because of testing. What about your farmwork?”

“I wish to be with you, Leah.”

“I’m supposed to get a letter telling me when to report, so I’ll let you know. Thanks so much, Ethan. It’s nice of you to offer.” She felt greatly relieved at not having to go by herself. “I plan to see Molly—you remember her, don’t you? The nurse who was so nice, whose sister’s diary Gabriella helped us find?”

“I remember her.”

Leah took the bundle of clothes from his lap, running her palms over the rough weave of the white shirt and black trousers. The pants had no cuffs and only buttons, no zipper because zippers were considered prideful. She wondered if Ethan could put off his Amish upbringing as easily as he had the clothing. She picked up the bag, saw several other shirts and pairs of pants and dumped the old clothes inside. “So,” she said, “what would you like to do today?”

“Isn’t that a VCR machine?” He pointed to the piece of equipment sitting on the shelf under her TV set.

“Sure is. Neil insisted I have one in case I had nothing to do when I wasn’t working.”

“Can we rent some movies? I have been with my friends and seen movies before, but now I want to see many more.”

“We can go as soon as the video store opens. But first, how about breakfast? I haven’t eaten, and if you’ve been up since five-thirty, you must be hungry.”

They went to the closest fast-food restaurant, where Leah ordered a biscuit and a soda and Ethan ordered pancakes, biscuits, eggs, bacon, two cartons of milk and a container of orange juice.

“You’re going to eat all that?” she asked when they were settled at a table.

“Isn’t it good to eat?”

“Of course, but I’d weigh as much as your horse if I ate like that.”

He laughed. “You are prettier than any horse, Leah.”

She giggled. “Thanks. I think.”

Leah drove with Ethan to the video store after breakfast. Together they pored over the titles.
If he picked up one she thought might embarrass them both, she shook her head. Once they returned to her apartment, she made popcorn and popped a video into the machine. They sat on the floor and spent the afternoon nibbling on snacks and watching movies. Leah couldn’t decide what was more interesting—watching the movies or watching Ethan watching the movies. He mostly laughed at sight gags and pratfalls, rarely at verbal humor. Sometimes he even asked her what an actor meant in a scene with dialogue. His naïveté and unworldliness amazed her, and even though he’d told her once that he’d tried English things, she began to wonder just how much he’d actually done. Still, it felt good to be with him.

When they had watched three movies in a row, afternoon had turned into evening. Ethan said, “I am hungry. Where shall we go to eat supper?”

“You’ve been eating all afternoon.” Leah felt slightly ill from her pig-out on junk food. “How can you be hungry?”

He shrugged. “It’s a mystery, but I am.” A grin split his face. “Let us try another place with fast food.”

She groaned, but minutes later they were driving down the road in the convertible. “You just like riding in my car,” she said above the
whoosh
of the wind.

“I like everything I do with you.”

“Tell me, what are your friends doing tonight?”

“The Amish like to go to The Rink. But so do the English. It’s a roller rink and game room. Turn right at the next light and I will show you.”

She drove into a parking lot filled with cars and Amish buggies. Several of the buggies looked less than plain. They bore tassels and reflective tape cut in fancy designs. The harnesses were studded with ornamentations. Even the horses looked fancy. “Excuse me,” Leah said, “but are those Amish buggies, or did space aliens drop into this place?”

“Aliens?” Ethan’s brow puckered. “Oh, Leah, you are making a joke. No, the buggies belong to Amish. Some make their buggies fancy. Their parents do not like it, but they do not forbid it. It is our way.”

Our way
was becoming increasingly peculiar to Leah. What she had once thought taboo for
the Amish was considered all right if done at certain times in their lives. Or, at least, parents and elders looked the other way while the kids did it.

Leah heard music blaring from the skating rink. Inside, the old-fashioned wooden floor was crowded with skaters. In an adjoining room, game tables were set in rows and kids were shooting pool. A selection of video games lined one wall. People looked up as Ethan and Leah came in. Leah was given the once-over. A couple of boys had the nerve to wink at her. But if Ethan was uncomfortable, he didn’t show it. He walked her over to a table where several couples were shooting pool. “Leah, do you remember my friends from the dance?”

She said she did even though she didn’t—except for Jonah and his sister Martha. She remembered
them
very well.

“So, Ethan, you have decided to join us,” Jonah said. He eyed Ethan up and down while rubbing chalk onto the tip of his cue.

“I have decided to be with my friends this summer,” Ethan said.

“All
of your friends?” Jonah asked.

“The ones who matter to me,” Ethan said.

Leah wondered if Jonah and Ethan could ever be friends.

Martha stepped forward. “We have missed you, Ethan.”

Leah felt her cheeks redden. Martha ignored her as if she weren’t even standing there.

“Good,” Ethan said, slipping his hand into Leah’s. “Then you will not mind if my friend Leah joins us at our parties.”

Without blinking, Martha said, “Leah is welcome.”

But Leah didn’t feel welcome. She felt like an intruder.

“Would you like to shoot a game of pool?” Jonah asked.

“No,” Ethan said. “We have been watching videos all afternoon on Leah’s machine. We came here to eat.”

Jonah studied Leah. “Perhaps we can all come over and watch videos sometime.”

“Maybe,” she said evasively.

“Ethan, will Charity ever come to watch videos with you?” Jonah asked.

“If she wishes.”

Jonah nodded. “I will ask her.”

Leah and Ethan walked over to a booth and
ordered a pizza. While they were waiting, Leah said, “I can’t figure out what Charity sees in him.”

“He is Amish,” Ethan said with a shrug.

“There are plenty of Amish guys around. Why him?”

“This you will have to ask my sister. But everybody knows that once Jonah has had his fling, he will return to Amish ways.”

She had heard this from Jonah himself. “Do guys ever not return to Amish ways?”

“Yes,” he said quietly. Color crept up his neck, and Leah knew there was something he wasn’t telling her. But what? She wanted to ask, but she didn’t. There was something neither Ethan nor Charity seemed to want to tell her. It maddened her, but she swore she wouldn’t pry. If Ethan trusted her, he would tell her. She would wait. If it took all summer, she would wait for him to open his heart totally and tell her the secrets of his soul.

L
eah’s weekdays fell into a routine. She worked hard alongside Kathy, she returned to her apartment and crashed. She lived for the weekends. Leah had lived in Nappanee over a month when Ethan brought Charity to Leah’s apartment. He promptly left so that the girls could visit with one another. “Leah, this is lovely!” Charity exclaimed as she walked from room to room. “So fancy.”

“I’m glad you like it.”

Leah had seen Charity’s room, one she shared with Rebekah. It looked plain, almost austere, with no rugs or curtains. It contained only a double bed and a dresser. The bed was covered with a handmade quilt, a gift from Oma, Charity
had explained. Perched on the bed was Rose, Rebekah’s Amish doll, dressed in Amish clothing. The dresser held a hurricane lamp and a pitcher and basin used for washing up. There were no pictures or mirrors on the walls. The closet held six solid-colored cotton dresses for each of them. Wall hooks held long aprons and extra caps. Charity had explained that her winter dresses were packed away in a trunk, along with her winter cape. A single cross-stitch sampler of Scripture verse lay on a wooden rocker by the window.

Seeing Charity next to Leah’s TV set, stereo, modern appliances and fixtures caused the gap between their lifestyles to stand out more than ever for Leah. By now, Leah was so used to Ethan’s dressing English-style—for he never came to see her unless he was wearing his modern clothes—that Charity looked oddly archaic. “Sit. Have a soda,” Leah said.

Charity perched on the couch and picked up the small pillow she had embroidered and given to Leah the Christmas before. “You have kept this?”

“It’s one of my favorite presents.” Leah took the pillow and ran her fingers over the finely
stitched letters of her name. “Of course, it’s nothing compared to Rebekah’s chicken.”

Charity laughed. “Leah, you are so funny.”

“Do you want to watch TV or something?” Leah wasn’t sure how eager Charity was to sample the world. She didn’t want to offer her something she didn’t feel comfortable doing.

“I do not think so,” Charity said, eyeing the TV’s blank screen. “I thought it would be fun to bake bread and cookies. You told me you wanted to do this sometime.”

“This could turn into a real adventure.”

Charity took inventory of Leah’s staples and made a list, and together they went to the grocery store. With Charity in her car, her prayer cap tied securely under her chin so that the wind wouldn’t blow it off, Leah was again struck by their differences. She couldn’t imagine not being able to drive, to go wherever she pleased, whenever she wanted.

They bought supplies, returned to the apartment and went right to work. First they started the bread. “Because it must rise,” Charity explained. Leah watched Charity sprinkle yeast into warm water, and after measuring out a few cups of flour, she eventually ended up with a
soft mound of dough. Once it had risen to twice its size, Charity placed the lump on a floured countertop and began to knead it. Watching Charity’s quick, sure motions made Leah feel like a klutz. “Now you try it.” Charity turned the project over to Leah.

Leah jabbed at the lump. “It feels icky.”

“You must work harder. It is dough, not glass.”

Leah pounded the lump, and flour puffed into her face and hair. Charity burst into laughter. “You look like a snowman.”

Leah giggled too. She folded the dough over and threw herself into kneading it. As she worked on the bread dough, Charity started making chocolate chip cookies. “Can I ask you something?” Leah said. “I know it’s none of my business, but do you like Jonah?”

Charity stopped mixing the cookie dough. “I have ridden home from Sunday singing in his buggy many times.”

“How about in his car?”

Color flooded Charity’s face. “Do not tell anyone, please.”

Taken aback by Charity’s reaction, Leah said, “I won’t. But what’s the big deal? Buggy, car—it’s still the same thing: You like Jonah.”

“The buggy is acceptable. The car is not.”

“You rode in my car.”

“Cars are not approved by Papa, but it is better with you than with Jonah.”

“He’s never … you know … tried anything with you, has he?”

Charity turned wide, innocent eyes on Leah. “Do you mean, does he get fresh?”

“I guess that’s what I mean.”

“Jonah respects me. He would not shame me.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It’s just that he’s acting English and you’re still being Amish, so there’s a gap between the two of you. I can tell he likes you, but I wondered how you felt. And I know how guys can be. I just don’t want to see him take advantage of you.” Leah didn’t add that she didn’t trust him.

“I have not had many experiences with boys, Leah, but Jonah is the boy I care for the most. We meet, but very carefully because my papa doesn’t approve. Once Jonah is finished with his fling and returns to Amish life, then Papa will have no problem with our dating.”

“When do you see him?”

“He comes to my house late at night when all are asleep. He shines a flashlight on my window.
I make certain not to disturb Rebekah, and I go downstairs and meet with him. In the winter, we stay in the kitchen. In the summer, on the porch.”