But Mr. Longacre had disowned his eldest son. Eli’s desire to go to high school and college seemed such a small deviation from the Amish lifestyle. This sobered Leah and disturbed her greatly. If Mr. Longacre would ignore his own flesh and blood, what chance did she have of his ever accepting her, a stranger and English to boot? The problem with the Amish, Leah decided, was that they never made allowances for individuality.
And yet, Leah had to admit that despite its inflexibility, she was attracted to the Amish lifestyle, to the Amish sense of community and togetherness. She wondered why people couldn’t have it both ways.
Once the July Fourth weekend was over, the ranks of tourists thinned considerably. Leah went back to work at the inn. Kathy was replaced by an Amish girl named Esther, who was so shy, it was more than a week before Leah heard the girl say a word. No matter how many friendly overtures Leah made, Esther couldn’t be coaxed from her shell. If Leah asked her a question, Esther turned bright red, stared down at the floor, and barely mumbled an answer. Leah missed the talkative Kathy immensely.
Leah spent the weekends with Ethan. He arrived at her apartment on Saturday mornings, stayed with friends in town on Saturday nights, and spent all day Sunday with her. This meant that he was not attending Amish church services at all. She couldn’t imagine that Ethan’s weekend absences won her points with his parents.
She found things to keep her and Ethan busy when they were together. They watched videos, went to movies, skated at The Rink, and drove into the countryside for picnics and shopping sprees. On the first Saturday in August, he took her horseback riding.
“Is he safe?” Leah asked, looking at the big horse standing in the yard of the riding stable. “I don’t think he likes me, Ethan.”
Ethan shimmied up his mount as if he’d been born to ride a horse. “The owner tells me your horse is very tame. He will not harm you. I thought you once lived in Texas.”
The horse turned its neck and stared at Leah as if to say, “Are you getting on or not?”
Leah glanced up at Ethan. “You’ve watched too many movies. Most Texans wisely drive cars.” She took a deep breath and put her foot into the stirrup. With an effort, she hauled herself onto the horse’s back, then held on to the saddle horn and reins for dear life. “Okay, I’m on.”
Ethan laughed aloud. “If you could see your face.”
“I’m so glad I’m entertaining you.” She shifted. The horse snorted. “How do I put him in gear?”
“Give him some slack on the reins, dig your knees into his side, and he will go.”
Leah did as she was told, and the horse broke into a trot. She almost lost her balance, fell forward and hugged the horse’s neck. “Where’s the brake on this thing?”
Ethan came up alongside and took her horse’s bridle, slowing the animal to a walk. “When you want him to stop, pull back on the reins. You must show him who is boss.”
“No contest. He’s the boss. He’s bigger.” Leah’s legs felt awkward spread around the horse and saddle. “Does this ever get more comfortable?”
“It is customary to feel sore at first. But once you get used to riding—”
“I’ll be too old to do it.”
They rode a well-defined trail that cut through the countryside, following a stream. Before long, Leah began to relax.
“I will tell you something,” Ethan said, breaking the silence. “I am learning how to drive a car.”
“You are? But that’s good. Isn’t it?” Leah realized he was further defying his father and his Amish upbringing. “Who’s teaching you?”
“Jonah.”
“I’m sure Jonah gets a thrill out of seeing you try more and more English things.”
“You sound as if you do not approve.”
“I didn’t mean it that way. I think you should learn to drive if you want to. Will you ever own a car?”
“I do not think so.”
“Tell me about driving. Do you like it?”
“It is hard not to go too fast. And there is much to remember. A car has many buttons and switches. A horse is much simpler.” He patted his horse’s neck.
“But a horse doesn’t have soft leather seats.” Leah squirmed. She couldn’t get comfortable in the hard saddle.
“But a car cannot put a soft nose on the back of your neck and nuzzle you.”
“I thought that’s what guys were for.”
Ethan burst out laughing. He looked over at her, his expression growing serious. “Sometimes—more since I have known you—I feel locked up. Like I am inside a box.”
She remembered what he’d said about traveling and seeing the world. “I’d feel bad if you were trying things just because of me.”
“It is my right to test, remember?”
“Well, if you ever want to get away from all this, come see me. Neil owns a farm, you know, so it won’t be a total change.”
“What kind of farm?” Ethan sounded interested.
“Oh, not like your farm,” Leah added hastily. “Neil bought this big piece of land at an auction. He has a big house on it. You see, he lived in Detroit all his life and decided to retire out in the wide-open spaces.”
“A farm that does not grow food?” Ethan sounded amazed. “Does he have a barn for dairy cows?”
“He keeps cars in the barn.”
Ethan turned and stared, as if to see if she was teasing him. “Cars? In a barn?”
“He collects antique cars.” Leah felt almost apologetic. “They’re worth a lot of money. And the barn’s specially made to keep the cars well preserved.”
“Land is the greatest thing a man can own, but I cannot imagine owning a farm that grows nothing, has no livestock, and stores cars in a good barn.” Ethan shook his head.
Leah should have figured that to Ethan’s frugal Amish mind, owning land merely for the pleasure of having space around you would make no sense. Worse, it made her lifestyle seem wasteful and foolish. “Collecting cars is Neil’s hobby. Sort of like that train we saw at the toy store. Just bigger. Don’t you Amish have any hobbies?”
“Working a farm does not leave us with much extra time, Leah. Many of us would like to be farmers, but farmland is not plentiful any longer, so we must become carpenters or have our own stores. And I do not want you thinking that I am critical of Neil. It is just that to hear of good land lying fallow is a shock to me.”
“I guess I understand,” Leah told him. “I’ve just never thought of it that way before. Mom and I have lived in apartments and trailers all our lives, so being out in the country, with all this land around me, is a real change. I didn’t even like it at first. It was lonely and miles from anything that even resembled a mall.”
“Do you still not like living there?”
“I’m used to it now. And being here all summer—going out to your farm and seeing how much you like the great outdoors—has made me feel better about it.”
Ethan stared off into the distance, across open fields and rolling meadows. “I cannot imagine being stuck someplace where there is no land around me. Where there are only cars and noise and too many people. The land makes me feel connected to God and all that he has made.”
Leah couldn’t imagine not being around cars and people and some kind of city life. She had not felt the gap between herself and Ethan so keenly in weeks. She felt it now, just as she felt the discomfort of the hard saddle and the plodding horse beneath her. Their ways of life were poles apart. Could anything ever close the gap between them?
SIXTEEN
“Hi, honey. How are you doing?”
“Mom? Where are you?” Leah hugged the phone receiver to her ear.
“Hawaii,” her mother said.
“You sound like you’re next door.”
Her mother took a breath. “Neil and I are spending more time here before we head back to the mainland. It’s been a fabulous trip. Did you get my postcards?”
Leah glanced at the colorful pictures lining her refrigerator door. “Sure did. It s
ounds like you’ve been having a good time.”
“Oh, have we ever! I’m sorry you missed it, Leah. How’s your summer been?”
“I’m having a great time too.”
“Really? I was hoping you weren’t having regrets about not coming along.”
“No regrets,” Leah told her.
“That’s good.” Her mother sounded relieved. “Well, Neil’s taken a hundred pictures and made a ton of tapes with the camcorder. I can’t wait for you to see them.”
“When will you be home?”
“In two weeks. Summer’s almost over, you know. School will be starting soon.”
Leah’s heart lurched. Her gaze flew quickly to the calendar on her kitchen wall, and she saw that August was well under way. She’d been so caught up in her everyday life, she’d forgotten how close it was to the start of the new school year. And to going home. Somehow, it had seemed as if her life in Nappanee would go on forever. “I guess you’re right.”
“When do you see Dr. Thomas again?”
“Not until fall, I think. I have an appointment card around here somewhere.”
“How have you been feeling?”
“I feel fine.” Leah hated being reminded that her health wasn’t perfect. There were days now when she never even thought about it. And then there were days when she thought about it a lot. The soreness in her knee came and went. When it came, she took pain relievers and tried not to bend too much.
“We’ve got back-to-school shopping to do,” her mother said. “Why don’t I come and help you pack up your things on the twenty-third?”
“Um—I guess that’s all right. I have to tell Mrs. Stoltz exactly when I’ll be leaving.”
“What would you think about driving into Chicago to shop after you come home? I’ve heard the bargains there are fantastic.”
“Sure, Mom. That’ll be fine.”
“Then it’s settled. I’ll call you when we get back to our place,” her mother added cheerfully. “See you soon. And Neil says hi.”
After hanging up, Leah stood holding the receiver and listening to the dial tone. Her wonderful summer was almost over, her time with Ethan almost gone. She finally hung up the phone and leaned her forehead against the wall. She couldn’t imagine her days without him. “Oh, Ethan,” she sighed. “What are we going to do?”
Mrs. Stoltz needed some fresh produce, so Leah drove out to the Amish stand. She looked for Rebekah among the Amish kids working, but she couldn’t find her. A girl’s voice said, “If you’re looking for Rebekah, she left early today.”
Leah turned to face Martha Dewberry. Martha was dressed in a short summer Amish dress of pale green and was holding a basket of beets. Leah said, “Oh … well, thanks.”
“Could I help you?”
“I—um—just need some vegetables for the inn.”
“I’ll show you what is freshest today. I know how Mrs. Stoltz likes high quality.”
Leah reminded herself that in such a small town, everybody knew everybody else. It was no surprise that Martha could pick just the right things for Mrs. Stoltz. Still, Leah disliked tagging along behind Martha while Martha chose items from the stacks of vegetables and fruits.
“There,” Martha finally said, handing Leah two sacks full of food. “This should be enough.”
Leah paid at the cashier and carried the sacks to her car. Martha opened the car door for her. “I guess you’ll be going home soon,” she said. “You’re still in school, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I’m leaving soon. Yes, I still have another year before I graduate.”
Martha smiled, reminding Leah of a contented cat. “Then your summer here has been successful?”
“I’ve had a good time, if that’s what you mean.” Tension crept up Leah’s neck. “I like it here and I’ve made some good friends.”
“Will you come back?”
Leah squared her chin. “I might. If I’m invited.”
“It is not easy being Amish for you English. One summer is not a true test of being one of us, you know.”
Is that what Martha thinks? That I’m trying to be one of them? “I guess it’s never good to try and be something you’re not,” Leah said. “But I think it’s okay to sample different things in life. Isn’t that what you Amish do when you take a fling?”
Martha’s cheeks colored, and Leah knew that her barb had hit home. “You are right. Experimentation is not a bad thing,” Martha said. “Making the wrong choice is the bad thing.”
Tired of dancing around the subject, Leah blurted out, “Is that what you think Ethan’s done? Made a bad choice by being with me all summer?”
Martha shrugged. “It is not for me to say. Ethan is a grown man. But the summer is almost over. And you will be leaving because you are English and have another life away from here. But I will remain, because this is my place. And Ethan will be here too, because this is his place. I offer you no bad feelings, Leah. It is the way things are.”
Leah turned away. Anger bubbled inside her. But she could not dispute anything that Martha had said. She had heard that patience was a virtue, and in this case, it was. Martha had patiently waited on the sidelines all summer, knowing full well that autumn would come, and with it, Leah’s departure.
Partly because Martha had made her angry, partly because she just wanted to see her friends, Leah drove up to the farmhouse. She struggled to calm herself. She didn’t want any of them to know she was upset. There was nothing anyone could do. As Martha had said, “It is the way things are.”
Leah parked her car, opened the door and felt a wet, stinging smack against her leg. Startled, she looked down to see water soaking the leg of her jeans. She looked up to see Simeon gaping at her from the corner of the house, a water balloon poised in one hand. “Leah,” he called. “I’m sorry. I was trying to hit Rebekah.”
Rebekah darted from behind Leah and the old wagon wheel by the flowers, a water balloon balanced in each hand. Her sleeves were rolled up, she was barefoot, and the front of her pale yellow dress was soaked. “Oh, Leah. Are you all right?” the little girl asked, wide-eyed.
“I’m fine. I was planning on taking a shower later anyway, and now you’ve saved me the trouble. What’s going on?”
“We’re having a water fight,” Rebekah said with a toothy grin.
“Does your mother know?”
“Oh yes. It is fun.”
Leah took one of the balloons from Rebekah and juggled it lightly in one hand. “Fun, you say?” Without warning, she spun, heaved the balloon and hit Simeon squarely in the chest. She grabbed Rebekah and yelled, “Run!”
The two of them dashed like rabbits toward the barn, Rebekah shrieking and Leah laughing. Simeon followed in hot pursuit. At the barn, Leah rounded the corner and crouched. “Where’re more balloons?” she asked breathlessly.
Giggling, Rebekah handed her the one she still carried. “This is all I have.”
“You don’t have more? Uh-oh. I think we’re in big trouble.”
“Follow me,” Rebekah said. “We’ll hide.”
They crawled on all fours inside the barn. At the far end, Leah saw Ethan, busy heaving forkfuls of hay into stalls. He didn’t see them. “Shhh,” Leah said. “He might tell Simeon where we are.” They scurried into an empty stall and peeked through the slats.
Simeon raced into the barn, his water balloon held high. He skidded to a stop. “Where are they?”
“Who?” Ethan asked, looking up.
“Leah and Rebekah. They’re in here.”
“I do not think so.”
“Help me look.”
Leah watched as Simeon and Ethan made their way slowly toward them. Rebekah’s eyes danced and she clapped her hand over her mouth. Leah clutched the balloon and held her breath. Just as the two brothers passed their hiding place, she sprang to her feet and tossed the balloon. But Simeon, seeing it coming, dropped and rolled out of harm’s way. The balloon landed with a splat on the side of Ethan’s face.
“Oops,
” Leah said as Ethan whipped around. “Sorry about that.” She offered an innocent smile and a shrug.
Simeon held his fire, and Rebekah looked up expectantly at Ethan. Ethan looked so comical standing in front of her dripping wet that Leah started laughing.
“Do you think this is funny?” Ethan asked with mischief in his eyes.
“Hysterical,” Leah managed between laughs.
“I have one balloon left,” Simeon said, offering his prize to his brother.
“One balloon is not enough.” Lightning fast, Ethan caught Leah’s arms.
She squealed as he heaved her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. “Put me down!”
“I will,” Ethan said, striding purposefully out of the barn.
“Hold your breath!” Rebekah yelled. “You’re in for a dunking!”
From her upside-down vantage point, all Leah saw was the ground. Then Ethan stopped, and the view of the ground gave way to one of the animal-watering trough. “Don’t you dare, Ethan Longacre!” she wailed. But to no avail. Leah screeched as Ethan plopped her into the water. She came up sputtering and splashing. She grabbed at Ethan’s shirtfront as Rebekah shoved him from behind. He lost his balance and fell smack on top of Leah. They both yelped and floundered, sending water every which way.
Rebekah and Simeon came over to see and also landed in the wooden trough. All four of them sloshed around like floppy fish. Struggling to get out, Leah slipped and went down in the mud. Ethan came over the side next and slid beside her, stomach first. Leah burst out laughing again. Ethan flipped a wad of mud at her. She retaliated, and soon they were tossing handfuls of mud at each other.
By the time Leah finally wiggled away, she was coated with gooey mud and Martha’s words were all but forgotten. “I should murder you.”
“We Amish are nonviolent, remember?”
Leah was laughing and shaking mud off her hands and arms. “I’m a mess. Mrs. Stoltz will never send me out to buy vegetables again.”
“You’re a pretty mess,” Ethan said, dipping into the water and wiping her cheek.
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