Until Angels Close My Eyes (8 page)

Leah fought an intense internal battle as she and Ethan drove out to the farm. Now that she was about to get her way, she was scared. Was she being selfish? Would Tillie hate her? She’d come into Ethan’s tidy little world and turned it on its edge. She was English, everything the Amish held in low regard. Now she was luring Ethan away from his family and the only way of life he’d known.

By the time they arrived at the farmhouse, Leah felt sick to her stomach. But she couldn’t turn back now. She’d made Ethan promises, and she had to keep them.

They found his parents alone in their kitchen beside the woodstove. Jacob Longacre had the big German Bible open on his lap, and Tillie was sitting in an old rocker doing cross-stitch by the light of an oil lamp. Startled by Ethan and Leah’s appearance, Jacob asked, “Has something happened?”

“Nothing bad, Pa,” Ethan said. He
glanced around the shadowed room. “Where are the others?”

“Oma and Opa have retired. The children are visiting Sarah,” Tillie answered.

Leah held on to the edge of the countertop, certain her knees would give way if she didn’t. She saw Jacob scrutinize his son and realized that Ethan was dressed English.

Without preamble, Ethan announced to his parents, “I have decided to go away.”

The room was silent except for the wood crackling in the stove.

“Where will you go?” asked his father.

“Leah has asked me to her place. I am going.”

Leah expected an explosion of temper, but she was surprised. Mr. Longacre simply studied his son with resigned, contemplative eyes.

“Neil and my mother will take good care of him,” Leah offered in a breathy voice.

“And who will care for his soul, Leah?” Mr. Longacre leveled a blue-eyed gaze at her.

“We’re not heathens, you know. He’ll be all right with us.”

“Do you know for how long you will be gone?” Jacob asked, ignoring her outburst.

“I cannot say.”

Jacob stood, folded his reading glasses, closed the Bible and placed it under his arm. “Do what you must do, Ethan. I cannot stop you.”

“As for my work”—Ethan gestured to his surroundings—“Simeon is young and strong. He is good help. Do not let Opa work too hard.”

Mr. Longacre nodded. “We will manage.”

“I love you, Papa.” Ethan’s voice was firm.

Jacob sighed deeply. Wearily he walked over to stand in front of Ethan. Leah was close enough to see that his eyes glistened with tears. His hands were big, work-worn, covered with calluses. A lump of emotion clogged her throat.

Jacob placed his free hand on Ethan’s shoulder. “And I love you, Ethan. Be careful among the English.”

Jacob turned and left the room. Ethan followed his father with his gaze.

Tillie rose from her chair and set her sewing on the counter. Leah remembered summer days when they canned fruit and vegetables together, of a kitchen alive with laughter and women’s voices. She saw Rebekah’s sweet face reflected in Tillie’s features.

Ethan reached for his mother’s hand. “I will be fine, Ma.”

She came closer, touched his cheek lovingly. “You are a man, my son. You must make your own way in the world. But do not forget your youth and all that we have taught you.”

“I will not forget.”

“Remember the words of our Lord,” she said. “ ‘You are the salt of the earth, but if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men.’ ” Tillie smiled wistfully. “It is God who calls each man whom he wants for his own. You must know if you, Ethan Longacre, have been called by God to be separate.”

Tillie turned to look into Leah’s eyes. “You were touched by an angel, Leah. You
were blessed. But my Ethan must search his heart and discover what it is that God requires of him. Do you understand?”

Leah nodded, unable to speak.

“I will not be cut off from you, Ma,” Ethan said. “I will not allow us to become strangers.”

Leah heard his words as a veiled reference to Eli. She thought it extraordinary that even now, neither could speak the name aloud.

“I will always hold you in my heart,” his mother said. “Just as I hold all my children there.”

“I love you, Ma.”

She cupped Ethan’s chin. “You are my beloved son. I have lost two of my children already. I do not want to lose another.”

“Ma.” The word sounded strangled in Ethan’s throat.

“Take good care of yourself, Ethan.” Tillie picked up the oil lamp. It lit her face with an ethereal light. The ties of her prayer cap trailed to her shoulders. In her dark Amish dress, with only the lamp’s light on her face, she reminded Leah of a dark ghost.

For a trembling minute, Leah thought Ethan was going to turn and tell her to go away without him, but slowly he squared his shoulders. “I must get some things from my room.”

“Of course.” Tillie stepped aside. Ethan bolted out of the kitchen.

Left alone with Ethan’s mother, Leah almost fell apart. “I’ll watch after him,” she whispered hoarsely. “I promise.”

“I know you will, Leah, for I know you love him too.”

Leah nodded mutely, stunned by this serene woman’s ability to calmly embrace whatever adversity life gave her.
So unlike my mother,
Leah thought.

In minutes Ethan was back, a homespun sack over his shoulder. “Tell Simeon and Charity and Elizabeth I am sorry I did not get to see them. Tell them I will write to them.”

“I will tell them.”

He took Leah’s elbow and started toward the back door.

“Son,” Tillie called. They turned and she held up the lamp. “Each night you are gone, I will set this in the window of your
room. It will burn for you, a light to show you the way back home if you want to come.”

Ethan nodded and led Leah into the night.

In the car, Leah laid her head against the headrest and allowed the bottled-up tears to flow unchecked.

E
arly the next morning, Leah told Kathy’s family she was leaving for home. She had the perfect excuse. Bad weather had been forecast, and she thought it best to beat it home before New Year’s Eve. She thanked them for allowing her to stay and gave them the small gifts she’d bought for them. She hugged Kathy goodbye, then drove straight to Jonah’s, where Ethan was waiting for her.

“Is that all you’re going to take?” Leah asked incredulously.

All Ethan held was a small duffel bag, a battered suitcase, and the sack he’d carried from home the night before.

“It is all I own,” Ethan told her. “Too many possessions make a person prideful. And material things are not what is important in life.”

“Wait till you meet my mother,” Leah said, half under her breath. Leah’s mother was a collector of beautiful things—clothes, furniture, jewelry.

Ethan tossed his belongings into the car and got in. He looked tired. Leah felt sorry for him. Ethan was leaving behind him all he had ever known. It was a huge step. But she was excited, too. Ethan was coming home with her. They could be together whenever they wanted.

Ethan did not sleep during the trip but stared broodingly out the window as the miles slipped away. Icy cold rain fell in globs, smacking the windshield with squishy sounds, slowing them down and making the trip twice as long as usual.

By the time Leah turned into the long driveway leading to her house, it was dark and the sleet had turned into heavy, wet snow. She pulled into the garage and exhaled with relief. “Let me turn off the security alarm.” She quickly punched in the
code and led Ethan inside the house. “Wow, it’s cold in here.”

Ethan followed her tentatively. She flipped the light switch, but nothing happened. “Oh no! The electricity’s out.”

“Really,” Ethan said. “How will we manage?”

The silliness of the problem made Leah giggle. The Amish didn’t use electricity. “Okay, I get your point. But with no electricity, there’s no heat.” Without power, Leah felt marooned. Outside, the winds had picked up. Driving snow pelted the house. “This blizzard could last a while,” she said.

“Would that be so terrible?”

“I guess not.” Her mother and Neil wouldn’t be home until late on New Year’s Day—or later, if the roads became impassable. Still, they wouldn’t be worried about her because they thought she was at Kathy’s. Two days alone with Ethan. Leah was certain she could handle it.

“Do you have a fireplace?” he asked.

“In the living room.”

“Firewood?”

“In the garage.”

“I will build you a fire, Leah.”

She found a flashlight, several candles and a stash of matches. Ethan laid a fire in the stone hearth and lit it. Soon the flames danced and warmth seeped into the large room. Leah collected blankets, afghans and pillows and made a nest in front of the crackling fire. “Now, if we just had some food, it would be perfect,” she told him.

In the kitchen they rummaged through the refrigerator and pantry and came up with hot dogs, chips, sodas and a can of baked beans. Ethan fashioned cooking sticks from wire coat hangers, and soon the aroma of cooking hot dogs filled the air. He warmed the beans deftly in a pot over the open flames.

“Who ever thought we’d have a picnic in December?” Leah asked as they ate.

“Who ever thought I’d be so far from home in December?”

“Are you all right about this, Ethan? I mean, do you wish you hadn’t come with me?”

“No. I wanted to come. You would have starved without me,” he teased.

“Probably.” She glanced around the room. The flickering flames sent shadows
dancing against the walls. The wind howled outside. “Tomorrow’s New Year’s Eve, but I don’t think we’re going to party it in.”

“I will not miss the party. I am with you. That is all that matters to me.”

Leah felt a tingle up her spine. “I guess we’ll have to sleep here in front of the fireplace,” she said, fluffing a pillow and stretching out.

“We can do as the Amish do,” Ethan said. “We can bundle.”

“How do we bundle?”

“It’s an old Amish custom, not always approved of by parents and elders. But when dating, a boy and his girl will lie in bed together. They do not remove their clothes, but they spend the night in each other’s arms.”

Leah’s jaw dropped. “This is an
Amish
custom?”

“Sex without marriage is forbidden,” Ethan quickly added.

“I’d guess so. But—wow—doesn’t bundling sort of invite trouble?”

Ethan chuckled. “Winters are long and
very cold. Amish couples do it to keep warm.”

Leah rolled her eyes. If any guy but Ethan had fed her such a line, she would have laughed at him. She thought that lying in bed with a person you love all night long without going all the way would be a temptation too hard to resist. “What happens if a couple gets carried away? What if they mess around and get into trouble?” In a way, Leah found it embarrassing to discuss such ideas with Ethan, but the subject of bundling was so unexpected from the morally upright Amish, she wanted to know more.

“If a girl is with child, then they must confess their sin before the entire church and ask forgiveness.”

“You mean they have to stand up in front of everybody and tell them if she gets pregnant? If that’s the case, then maybe they should keep quiet and just get married.”

“They usually do marry,” Ethan said. “Yet they must still make a public confession.”

Leah made a face. “That’s awful! It sounds pretty humiliating to me.”

“In God’s eyes, sin is sin. It does not matter which of God’s laws we break. Sinners must repent.”

“Does everybody forgive them?”

“It is required to forgive.”

Leah had seen how difficult it had been for Ethan’s father to forgive his son Eli for leaving. “Really?” she asked.

A slow smile spread across Ethan’s face. “Maybe not as quickly as it should be done,” he admitted. “But that is what is supposed to happen.”

Leah hugged her knees and stared into the fire. “Will your father forgive you for leaving?”

“Perhaps he already has.”

“I’ll be honest,” Leah said, still gazing at the flames. “I felt sorry for your parents last night. And I expected your father to put up more of a fight to make you stay. Why didn’t he?”