happened?”
“Nothing bad, Pa,” Ethan said. Heglanced 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. Youwere 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
“Nothing bad, Pa,” Ethan said. Heglanced 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. Youwere 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
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