Lifted Up by Angels Read Free Page A

will take the horse,” Ethan said, surprising Leah. His tone almost sounded defiant—not at all Amish.
    Ethan’s father gave Ethan a hard look. The grandfather said, “Let him take the horse, Jacob. It is his choice.”
    Mr. Longacre gave an imperceptible nod, and although Leah knew something out of the ordinary had occurred, she didn’t have a clue what it was. Her stomach continued to tighten, and by the time the meal was over and the table cleared, she wanted to jump out of her skin.
    When the women began cleaning up and the men retired to the barn, Leah followed Charity out into the yard. Night had fallen, and without a porch light, Leah could hardly see two feet in front of her. Charity began to fill a large pot with water from the outside pump.
    Leah caught her friend’s arm. “Something’s wrong, isn’t it? Please tell me, Charity. What have I done to offend your family?”

T HREE

    C harity set the pot down. “Whatever do you mean?”
    “I could tell something was wrong tonight,” Leah said in a rush. “Everyone hardly said a word at the dinner table.”
    “Oh, Leah, forgive me. I forget you are not accustomed to our ways.”
    “No, I’m not,” Leah said, quietly. “And now I feel the differences more than ever. I’m English. Your family dislikes me. Maybe I’d better just go away.”
    “Do not say such a thing. My family
does
like you. You were so kind to Rebekah in the hospital. We will never forget that.” Charity took Leah’s hands in the dark. “Let me try to explainthings to you. It is true we do not talk much at meals. For us, mealtime is not a time for idle chatter. It is a time to reflect on God’s bounty and generosity to us.”
    “Your father and Ethan talked. And they didn’t exactly sound happy, either. What’s the big deal about taking a horse to get a shoe?”
    Charity dropped Leah’s hands. “Walk with me,” she said.
    Leah went with her to the edge of the yard, where the light from the kitchen windows dropped off. An old wagon wheel had been propped against a large rock and a flower bed had been planted around it. The sound of chirping crickets broke the stillness, and fireflies flickered in the darkness.
    “Family is very important to us Amish,” Charity said.
    Family was important to Leah too. All her life she had wanted to belong to a family—a real family, not the kind her mother kept manufacturing. Her mother couldn’t make any marriage work. She kept getting divorced, and she and Leah kept moving from place to place. Leah had never known her real father, and she had seen her beloved grandmother—also someone her mother didn’t get along with—die ofcancer. Leah still felt keenly the loss of her grandmother, her father, and the family life she’d never known. “I can see how close your family is,” she said, “but I know there was something going on tonight between Ethan and your father. Is it me? Tell me the truth.”
    Charity didn’t answer right away, and when she did speak, her words were halting, as if her thoughts were difficult to express. “Among us Amish, no man is baptized until he knows he wants to accept our ways and live according to all Amish traditions. After baptism, he becomes a church member. He marries and works. He obeys the church elders and lives simply.”
    Confused, Leah asked, “Why are you telling me this?”
    “Because Ethan is not yet baptized.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “It means that he still has freedom to choose what he wants to do with his life,” Charity said quietly.
    “What kind of freedom?” This news surprised Leah, for she had assumed that the Amish way of life was ordained from birth.
    “When an Amish boy turns sixteen, he is free to experiment with worldly things. It is called
rumspringa
—‘taking a fling.’ All our fathershave done so, and they give their sons much leeway. Boys are exempt from chores and even church on Sundays. They are allowed to stay out all night on weekends with other Amish