Lifted Up by Angels by Lurlene McDaniel Page B

stared hard at both of the girls. “It looks like an explosion has happened. Were you hurt, Leah?”
    Leah stood, glanced into a mirror and gasped. Flour streaked her clothing and hair. It was even stuck to her eyelashes. Chocolate smudged her nose. Charity looked neat and clean, without a speck of flour on her skin or dress. The three of them looked at each other. They began to giggle, then to laugh. “I look like I took a flour shower,” Leah managed to say, which started them laughing all over again.
    Ethan grabbed a sponge. “I will help,” he said. He gently lifted Leah’s chin and swiped the cool, damp sponge down her cheeks, along her chin and forehead, and then softly across her lips. Her laughter quieted as she gazed up at him. His expression was intense, his touch feather soft. Light from a window across the room slanted through the curtains, casting him in bronze, his hair in gold. Her mouth wentsuddenly dry. Her pulse pounded in her ears. Every nerve ending in her body tingled. She was only vaguely aware when Charity slipped out of the room. “Thank you for the cleanup,” Leah told him.
    He dropped the sponge and cradled her face between his palms. “You are welcome, Leah,” he answered. “Believe me, it is my pleasure.”
    She rose on her tiptoes to accept a kiss from his warm, full, honey-colored mouth.
    Leah kept postcards from her mother and Neil stuck to her refrigerator with colorful magnets. One had been mailed from the Los Angeles airport, several from Hawaii. Each held detailed descriptions of their vacation. The latest one read:
    Dear Leah,
    I wish you could see these islands. I never dreamed there could be so many flowers growing in the wild. Why, there’s a garden right outside our bungalow door. By the time you get this, we’ll have been on the boat for threedays. I hope I don’t embarrass Neil and throw up. I’ve been seasick before and it’s no picnic. But I’m so happy! I know your doctor’s appointment is coming up soon, so I’ll be checking with you about it. I hope you are well and having a wonderful summer. I love you, Leah. I don’t think I ever told you that enough when you were growing up. Forgive me my lapse.
    Love, Mother
    Added was a postscript from Neil sending his love too.
    In the same batch of mail, a letter arrived from Dr. Thomas, her orthopedic oncologist in Indianapolis, telling her that her appointment for testing and a checkup had been scheduled for the following Thursday.
    The next day after work, Leah drove out to the farm. She went directly to the barn, where she thought Ethan might be working. She found him repairing tools. “What is it?” he asked when he saw her.
    She told him about the upcoming appointment. “Did you mean what you said about coming with me?”
    “I will come.”
    Just then Mr. Longacre came into the barn. He stopped short when he saw Leah talking to Ethan. “Good day.” He greeted her without smiling.
    “I—I was just leaving,” Leah said self-consciously. No matter how many times she saw Ethan’s father, she never grew accustomed to him. The man was not rude to her, but she felt his disapproval whenever she came around. She hurried out of the barn, pausing to catch her breath and slow her rapid heartbeat. Then she heard Ethan and his father talking in German.
    She couldn’t understand the words, but their exchange was loud and sounded angry. It ended with the noise of a slammed door.
My fault,
Leah told herself. She hurried to her car before anyone could catch her eavesdropping and sped away.

N INE

    I t rained the day Leah drove the hundred and twenty miles to Indianapolis. But she couldn’t have cared less. With Ethan riding beside her, the day didn’t seem one bit gloomy.
    As she sped along the freeway, Ethan asked, “Are you nervous about the testing?”
    “A little. I wish it was over. I hate hospitals. Don’t you?”
    “I’m not so sure. The only time I’ve been in one, I met you. This does not seem like such