Lifted Up by Angels (12 page)

L
eah arrived at the farm the next day in the late afternoon. She carried in a sack full of clothes for Charity, and while she helped her dress and put on makeup, Ethan loaded the car with sleeping bags, a cooler and containers of food. He was sitting in the parlor when Leah and Charity came down the stairs. He jumped to his feet.

Charity twirled in front of him. “What do you think?”

“I think you look very pretty.”

Leah could see by Charity’s smile that her brother’s compliment mattered to her. “Then you approve?” Leah asked.

Ethan’s gaze found hers. “I approve.”

They drove the several miles to the county fairgrounds with the convertible’s top down. The weather was typical for July—hot and sticky. At the fair, they parked in a field crammed with other cars and walked to the admission gate. After paying, Ethan said, “We are to meet the others in the carnival area.” He took Leah’s hand, and the three of them threaded their way through the throngs of people.

The carnival arcade consisted of games of chance and rides and even more people waiting in long lines. At the Ferris wheel, Leah saw Jonah scanning the crowd anxiously. When Jonah saw Charity, his eyes widened, and then a grin split his face. “I like what I see,” he told her when the three of them were standing in front of him.

“Leah helped me,” Charity said.

Jonah glanced at Leah. “Leah has only magnified what God has already created.”

“Where to now?” Leah asked.

“I will win you a teddy bear,” Ethan said.

They went over to a booth where a barker was urging people to try their skill at knocking over a stack of wooden bottles with a baseball. “Win the little lady a prize!” the man shouted. “Three tries for a dollar.”

Ethan slapped down a dollar bill. “I will try.”

The barker grinned. “Here you go, son. Dump ‘em and your girl gets her pick of prizes.”

Leah leaned over and whispered into Ethan’s ear. “These things are rigged. You shouldn’t waste your money.”

“It is only a dollar,” Ethan said. “And I may get lucky.” He picked up the balls and threw them in quick succession, knocking down the bottles.

Leah didn’t know who was more surprised, she or the barker. The man gave Ethan a sour smile. “You did it, kid. What does the lady want?”

Leah picked out a bear, and Ethan tucked it under his arm. “How’d you do that?” she asked once they had walked away.

Ethan flashed her a sly smile. “These people think because we are Amish we are slow or dumb. I learned long ago just how to throw the ball to beat them. They are always surprised when I win.”

“And who taught you how to beat them?”

He stiffened. “Someone from long ago. It is not important.”

His answer mystified Leah. He was shutting
her out again from something in his past. Determined not to let it bother her, she looped her arm through his. “You’re just full of surprises, Ethan Longacre. And I like surprises.”

His momentary moodiness vanished with a quick smile. “I like surprises too.”

Jonah won Charity a stuffed toy at the next booth. Soon the four of them had their arms loaded with stuffed animals and inexpensive dolls and toys. “What are we going to do with all this stuff?” Leah asked.

“We will leave it with friends in one of the food booths,” Ethan said. “The Yoders have a concession stand.”

They left their prizes with the Yoders—-all except for Leah’s bear, which she insisted on carrying. When they returned to the carnival area, Leah recognized some of Jonah’s friends standing near the roller coaster. They were talking, even flirting, with girls who weren’t Amish. She wasn’t sure why that bothered her, but it did. English girls—girls like her—seemed good enough to have fun with, but not good enough to date or take home to the family. Still, she was polite when introduced to the newcomers.

Within an hour, the group had ridden the
roller coaster, the bumper cars and the merry-go-round. Dusk was falling by the time Leah and Ethan got on the Ferris wheel. “Soon the fireworks will start over by the lake,” Ethan said as the wheel began its slow ascent.

Leah saw the grayish blue water from the high vantage point. People were already gathered along the shore in lawn chairs and on blankets. “It already looks packed.”

“Don’t worry. Some of our friends are there saving places.”

Since Leah hadn’t yet run into Martha, she wondered if Jonah’s sister was one of the friends saving places.

Their seat on the Ferris wheel swung to the very top, then lurched to a stop. Far below, Leah saw a man fiddling with the machinery. “We may have to watch from up here,” she said, huddling closer to Ethan. “It sure is a long way down.”

“Are you frightened? I have seen you drive. How could this be scary?”

She punched his arm good-naturedly. “Swinging in an open basket fifty feet in the air with nothing but a bar across my lap doesn’t bother me one bit.”

He laughed. “I like this ride best of all. It lets me see the earth as birds see it. As angels see it. Sometimes I dream that I am flying above the ground, swooping and soaring. I don’t like waking up from that dream.”

“You’ve never flown in an airplane, have you?”

He shook his head, but she saw a wistful look cross his face. “I would like to do that someday.”

“You ought to see the clouds from the top side. They look like big fat cotton balls. Do you think angels play in the clouds?”

“Angels go anywhere they want.” He brushed her hair with his lips. “Even on Ferris wheels at county fairs.”

Leah felt as if she were melting. Ethan could say the sweetest things.

After the ride, they headed toward the lake. They searched the throngs for their friends. Charity was the first to spot them. “Over there.” She waved at a group of about thirty kids lounging on quilts and blankets.

Leah settled next to Ethan, mindful of the glances from the group. She was the only non-Amish person among them. From the corner of her eye, she saw Martha. Martha kept glancing
at Ethan covertly, and Leah knew that if it hadn’t been for her, Martha undoubtedly would have been the one with Ethan tonight. Leah shifted so that Martha was completely out of her line of vision.

With a loud pop, the first volley of fireworks lit the sky. Cascades of color and showers of gold rained down in long streamers. Using her stuffed bear as a pillow, Leah stretched out. Ethan lay beside her and together they watched the brilliant lights dance overhead. With every burst, Leah felt Ethan’s hand tighten on hers. Waves of contentment washed over her. She couldn’t imagine anyplace else in the world she’d rather be than under a July Fourth fireworks display with Ethan.

Ethan asked, “Do you think your mother is seeing fireworks in the South Pacific?”

“According to Mom, a person can see a million stars out there. Who needs fireworks?” Her mother had called a few days before to hear how Leah’s doctor’s appointment had gone. Leah had given her mother a good report, not even mentioning her sore knee. The cortisone shot had helped immensely, but her bout with cancer seemed always to be lurking on the fringes of her mind.

Ethan sighed. “Sometimes I think about traveling all over the world.”

Leah understood his longing. But for her, what he had—home and a sense of belonging—seemed more satisfactory than sailing the ocean. “Maybe someday you will,” she said.

“It does not seem likely. But I wish I could.”

When the fireworks show was over, the quilts were folded and the whole group joined the exodus of people headed home. The Amish kids were going to the Yoder farm for the campout. And Leah would be with them. She hoped she didn’t do anything to embarrass herself. And she hoped that she and Ethan could hold on to the feelings they had for each other—regardless of all their differences.

A stream ran through the part of the farm where the campsite was set up. A large bonfire was built and blankets spread on the ground around it. Radios, portable CD players, picnic baskets and coolers were strewn around the blankets. A keg of beer sat in the sluggish stream. Leah was certain Jonah had sneaked it
in. Leah noted that this night everyone had come in cars—not in buggies. And no one was dressed Amish.

She and Ethan settled on a quilt with Charity and Jonah. Jonah headed straight for the beer keg. Ethan pulled a package of hot dogs from their cooler. “Want one?”

“Sure,” Leah said.

He handed her a piece of wire and stuck a hot dog on the end. They walked closer to the fire and began cooking the hot dogs. By the time they returned to the blanket, Charity had gone to talk to other friends, and Jonah had made several more trips to the keg.

Leah and Ethan sat on the blanket, scooped potato salad onto plates and began eating. Jonah came up and held out a plastic cup full of beer. “Want a drink, Ethan?”

“This is not a place for drinking, Jonah,” Ethan responded. “You should not have brought this.”

“You don’t like my beer?” Jonah asked. His tone sounded challenging.

“No. I do not want your beer,” he said evenly.

“Why do you not want to be with your
friends, Ethan?” Jonah asked. He swayed slightly. “Why are you letting your girlfriend make your decisions for you?”

Leah held her breath, waiting for Ethan’s reaction.

Ethan stood. “I make my own choices, Jonah. And I do not choose to drink your beer.”

Leah watched Ethan stoop over and rummage through the cooler and pull out two soda cans. He popped the tabs, handed one to Leah, and sat back down. To Jonah, Ethan said, “Why don’t you eat something? We have salads. We have cakes.”

“I don’t want anything to eat. I want to talk to you about the way you treat your friends.” He cast Leah a hard look. “Ever since she came into your life, you have no time for us. For your own kind.”

“You are talking crazy,” Ethan said.

In the light from the bonfire, Leah saw Ethan’s jaw clench.

“Do you know what I think, Ethan?” Jonah asked.

“Because you have been drinking, I do not care what you think,” Ethan answered.

Jonah leaned over so that his face was inches
from Ethan’s. “I think you are proud. All you Longacres are proud.”

Ethan started to rise to his feet. Leah grabbed his arm. “It’s only words, Ethan. Ignore him. He’s drunk.” She knew Ethan rejected violence, but she was angry enough to hit Jonah herself. Why was he spoiling their evening?

Jonah acted as if Leah hadn’t even spoken. “You are proud. Your father is proud. Eli would have drunk beer with me.”

Ethan shot to his feet. The color had drained from his face, and his hands were balled into fists. “You go too far, Jonah. Do not
ever
say that name to me. You know it is forbidden to speak it.”

Jonah reeled backward. He blinked. A low growl tore from his throat, and he stalked off toward the stream.

Ethan took off in the other direction. Leah went after him. She caught up with him far downstream. She wasn’t sure anyone had seen what had happened between Ethan and Jonah, but no one had followed them. “Ethan!” she called.

He stopped, then turned slowly. “Leave me be, Leah.”

“No,” she said, moving closer. “You can’t just bring me here and run away. I can figure out that Jonah doesn’t like me, maybe because of his sister. I even understand. But I saw your fists. You almost hit him back there. All because he mentioned someone named Eli. What’s going on? Who’s Eli? You owe me an explanation.”

Ethan let out a long, slow, shuddering breath. It took him a long time to answer. At last he said, “Eli is my brother.”