Lifted Up by Angels (9 page)

In the recreation room, in the corner where the magnificent tree had stood, children’s artwork was taped to the wall. “I loved that Christmas tree your father brought,” Leah said. “It was the prettiest tree I ever saw. When I couldn’t sleep at night, I’d come down here just to look at it. And I’d imagine the woods where it came from.”

“And now you have seen the woods with your own eyes.”

“With you,” she said, the memory of that night with him still bright.

Ethan slid his arm around her waist, and she snuggled against his side. “This seems a good time to ask you,” he said. “My friends are having a party on the Fourth of July. Will you go with me?”

“Do you think it’s a good idea? They tell
me I’m welcome, but sometimes I’m not so sure.”

“They do not know you as well as I,” Ethan said.

And they don’t want to, either,
Leah thought. She would always be English in their eyes. And she’d never forgotten what Kathy had told her that first day at work about the Amish sticking with their own kind. She said, “Tell me about the party.”

“We will go to the county fair. After the late fireworks, there will be a camping party on the Yoder farm property. I would like to have you with me.”

“Camping? You mean, like staying in tents outside all night?”

“The summer nights are warm. We will only use sleeping bags. It is something the group does every year. Even my father and his friends did it when they were growing up. I have not gone before, but this year I would like to go. But only if you will come with me.”

“I’m having trouble imagining your father taking a fling,” Leah said seriously.

“He is not such a stern man, Leah. But he does not bend easily. My father is an elder in the
church and feels he must set an example for others.”

“If you say so. Will Charity be at the campout?”

“Only if I go.”

“So, in other words, if I don’t go, neither of you will go.” The invitation didn’t seem as appealing cast in that light.

“I would not want to go if you do not come,” he said. “Being with you is more important than being with my friends.”

Now Leah felt she would be acting petty to care whether the others liked her or not. The important person was Ethan, and he wanted her with him. “I’d like to go,” she told him. “I’ve never camped before, but I’d like to be with you too.”

“Then it is settled. We will go to the fair on the Fourth of July, watch the fireworks, and spend the night camping with the others.”

She gave him a smile that she hoped conveyed more enthusiasm than she felt.

Leah urged Ethan into the patient library that adjoined the rec room. It hadn’t changed much. The books looked more dog-eared than ever, and someone had left the card catalog drawer open. She closed it and went to the shelf
where she and Ethan had discovered Emily’s diary.

She fingered the bindings, half expecting to see some reminder of Gabriella. There was none. Nothing at all to reflect that strange and wonderful night when the woman had come into her room, talked to her and touched her. “For a long time, the Gabriella mystery drove me crazy,” she said to Ethan, her thoughts turning away from the July Fourth party. “I read everything I could about the supernatural. About ghosts. About angels.”

“I do not believe in ghosts,” Ethan said. “But I do believe in angels.”

“Do you believe that each of us has a special guardian angel?” she asked.

He looked thoughtful. “I am not sure about that. You ask so many questions, Leah. Do you believe in angels or not?”

“I do now,” Leah answered emphatically. “Did you know that a lot of people think that when they die they will turn into angels?”

Ethan looked at her and said, “I saw it in a movie, when I first began to try English things. It was a story about a person who dies and comes back as an angel so that he can make up for bad things he did to people while he was
alive.” He shook his head. “I knew it was not true. People get new bodies in heaven, but they do not turn into angels. Angels are separate beings from people.”

Leah continued to tell him what she’d learned in her reading. “I read about people who were miraculously healed. Or rescued. Some unexplainable things have happened to people—like what happened to me.”

“Why do you need an explanation? Can’t you just accept the gift you’ve been given?” Ethan toyed with the ends of her hair, curling long strands around his finger.

“I guess I’ll have to. But I still can’t help wondering, why me?”

Just then the door opened, and they turned to see Molly.

“How are you?” Molly asked excitedly. “I sort of had a premonition that I’d be seeing you soon.” She gave Leah a hug.

“I think I’m doing fine, but Dr. Thomas hasn’t checked me over yet.”

Molly turned toward Ethan, smiled pleasantly, then asked, “So, Leah, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”

L
eah and Ethan exchanged glances. Ethan said, “I am Ethan Longacre.”

“I—I didn’t recognize you,” Molly stammered. “I’m sorry.” Leah realized that Molly had never seen Ethan dressed English-style before.

“It is all right,” he said. “I guess I do look different to you.”

“But very good,” she added quickly. “How’s your sister Rebekah doing?”

“She is well. Recovered from her spider bite.”

“Good. She is such a sweet little girl.” Molly looked at Leah. “I’m so glad you stopped by to see me. I’ve thought of you a hundred times since you were here. Come, sit.” They pulled
out chairs at the reading table, Molly on one side, Leah and Ethan on the other. “Tell me, what are you doing this summer?”

Leah told Molly about her summer job and living arrangements.

“Your own apartment,” Molly said, obviously impressed. “I was twenty-two before I had my own place. Then I got married and had kids, and I may never have the place to myself again.”

The three of them laughed. Leah said, “Tell us about Christmas at your parents’, and about reading Emily’s diary.”

“It was a very special time,” Molly said, folding her hands on the table. “Imagine hearing someone speak to you from the grave. That’s how we all felt as we read Emily’s entries. It was as if she were in the room with us, looking over our shoulders. It brought back a hundred memories … good memories. She was a wonderful girl who died before she should have. I’ve been looking into having her diary published.” Molly glanced from Ethan to Leah. “I think her insights, her feelings about her cancer and what she was going through, would be a help to kids today.”

Leah nodded slowly. “Probably so. I know I
sure would have liked to read something by a person my age when I was told I had cancer. You feel so alone. If it hadn’t been for you, and Ethan and his sisters, it would have been a whole lot harder.”

“Thank you,” Molly said. “Medical procedures may change over time, but human emotions don’t. Being told you have a disease must be some of the hardest news in the world to hear. Especially when you’re young, like Emily was. Her diary was really clear about how isolated and lonely she felt.”

“Getting her diary published is a good idea,” Ethan said. “I hope you have good luck.”

“Thanks. And I haven’t forgotten the role that strange woman Gabriella played in all this. I never have been able to figure out how she came to have my sister’s diary.” Molly leaned back in the chair. “Have you ever seen her again?”

“No. And neither has Rebekah, because I asked her.”

“Well, unless she surfaces again, I’ll never know. I guess that’s not what’s important anyway. The fact is, I have Emily’s diary. I’ll always be grateful for that.”

Leah glanced at her watch. “I guess we
should be going. I don’t want to keep Dr. Thomas waiting.”

They stood, and at the door, Leah hugged Molly goodbye. “It was sure nice seeing you again.”

“You too,” said the nurse. “Anytime you’re here, please stop by.” She looked at Ethan and said, “That goes for you too. By the way, I like you in those clothes.”

Ethan’s face reddened, but Leah could tell he was pleased by Molly’s comment.

When they reached Dr. Thomas’s office, the receptionist ushered them into an exam room. The doctor entered, shook Ethan’s hand, then placed the newest set of Leah’s X rays on the light board. He said, “Your X rays look good. Any complaints?”

Leah licked her lips nervously. She told him about how her knee sometimes ached after work. He examined her knee, massaging the kneecap while studying the X rays. “I do see some inflammation.”

Leah braced herself for bad news.

Dr. Thomas continued. “Such swelling is common among athletes when they strain their knees or elbows. Have you been bending a lot? Playing a sport before properly warming up?”

She told him about her job.

“That could explain it. I’ll give you a cortisone injection at the site. If you keep having trouble, let me know. Take it easy for a few days and give it time to heal, all right?”

“All right.” Leah didn’t want a shot in her knee, but she’d been afraid it was more serious.

Dr. Thomas left and returned with a syringe. Leah gritted her teeth as he slid the needle into her knee. She saw Ethan turn his head. When the ordeal was over, she asked, “Am I cured? From the cancer, I mean.”

Dr. Thomas put his hand on her shoulder. “Now, Leah, you know I can’t say this soon after your treatment. You just completed chemo a few months ago.”

“But you told me that the dark spots had started to shrink even before I started chemo.”

“That is true,” Dr. Thomas said. “And I have no medical explanation for it. But cancer is still a mystery in many ways. The more we find out about it, the more we realize we don’t know.” He removed the X-ray films from the light board. “My job is to keep watch over you. I want to see you again in the fall, so stop at my receptionist’s desk and she’ll make another appointment for you.”

Leah got off the exam table. It wasn’t the answer she had wanted, but for now it would have to do.

The doctor smiled. “I think your prognosis is very good, Leah. But remember, with cancer, it’s one day at a time.”

In the elevator, Leah sagged against the wall. “I’m glad that’s over with.”

“I can tell you are not happy with his words,” Ethan said.

Leah felt tears of frustration building behind her eyes. “I guess I wanted him to tell me I was completely cured and he didn’t ever want to see me again. I hate thinking every little ache and pain might be cancer returning.”

Ethan ran his knuckles softly along her cheek. “You want to believe in a miracle, but you cannot. But that is what faith is, Leah. Believing in what we cannot see.”

She sniffed hard. “You’re right. I need more faith. And right this minute, I’m tired of talking about it and thinking about it.”

“You were very brave when he gave you the shot,” Ethan said. “You need a reward. I know, I will buy you supper and a present.”

Leah fumbled for a tissue and dabbed at her eyes. “What kind of present?”

“Something to make you happy again. Something to make you smile for me.”

They drove to a gigantic mall in one of the city’s suburbs. The parking lot was crammed with cars; inside the mall, summer sales were announced by colorful signs decorated in red, white and blue. Flags sprouted out of merchandise displays. Aisles were thick with shoppers. Leah watched Ethan’s reaction to the stores, crowds, and noise—a far cry from the sleepy little town of Nappanee.

They walked through the mall, stopping in front of store windows whenever something caught Ethan’s eye. “Why are there so many stores selling clothes?” he asked.

“People like to buy clothes. It’s fun.”

He looked at her blankly. “I see that a person needs summer clothes and clothes for winter, but this is practical. In winter it is cold. In summer, hot. The same clothes will not do for both.”

“People like to have clothes for lots of different things.” Leah’s closet was packed with clothes and she always thought she needed more. She added, “Plus, styles change. You can’t wear the same old things year after year.”

He made a face. “You are right. That would be horrible.”

She punched him playfully.