Lifted Up by Angels by Lurlene McDaniel Page B

respond, she added, “Please, tell me.”
    “Eli is older than me. The firstborn.” Ethan’s words were halting, as if it hurt his throat to speak them.
    “How much older?”
    “Eight years.”
    Leah was shocked. “Where is he?”
    Ethan shrugged. “I am not sure. I think he still lives here in Indiana.”
    “You’re not
sure?”
she repeated. “When did you last see him?”
    “When I was ten.”
    “You haven’t seen your own brother for seven years? But why?” Getting information from Ethan was like pulling teeth. Frustrated, Leah wanted him to tell her everything and get it over with. “You sound ashamed of Eli. Are you?”
    “You do not understand, Leah.”
    “I sure don’t,” she said, exasperated. “You have a brother no one talks about, or even mentions—I’ve known you since December and I’ve never once heard about him—and you won’t tell me why. Don’t you trust me, Ethan?”
    “This has nothing to do with you.”
    There was no moon, so Leah couldn’t see his face, but she could hear the sadness in his voice. She reached out and stroked his arm. “I care about you, Ethan. I don’t like to see you hurting. I’ve always wondered whether you—and even Charity—were keeping something from me.”
    “How did you know?”
    “Little things that were said. Embarrassed silenceswhen something would come up that you both didn’t want to talk about. I know now that I wasn’t imagining it. Was it Eli? Or is there some other secret?”
    “I have no other secrets.” He sounded miserable.
    “But all the Amish kids know about him, don’t they? At least Jonah knows.”
    “Some know about Eli.”
    “But not me. Is it because I’m English? An outsider?” Leah’s frustration turned into a feeling that she’d been rejected.
    “Others know about him only if they are old enough to remember him.” Ethan bent so that his forehead was touching Leah’s. “We do not speak of him. Rebekah doesn’t even know about him.”
    “Rebekah doesn’t know she has another brother?” Leah couldn’t believe what Ethan was saying. “Are you joking?”
    “She was born after Eli left. And since we never speak of him …” Ethan let the sentence trail off.
    “But—But—Why not?” Leah sputtered. “What’s he done that’s so horrible? Is he a criminal or something?”
    “You are not Amish, Leah.”
    “What’s that supposed to mean? You’ve always known I wasn’t Amish!”
    “It is hard to explain our ways to you.”
    Leah folded her arms across her chest. “Why don’t you try? I promise to act human. Okay?”
    Her sarcasm was seemingly lost on Ethan. He gently took her hand and led her to a patch of grassy ground, where he settled her beside him. Leah felt angry and hurt, but she forced herself to keep her temper and to wait in the darkness for him to finally speak.
    “Eli was my big brother, and I followed him around like a puppy. He was different from me. Different from all of my family.”
    “How was he so different?”
    “He never loved the land the way Opa, Papa and I do. He didn’t like our simple ways. Eli was born smart. He loved books. And learning. When I was six, he was fourteen and in the eighth grade. He went to the English middle school—as we all did. He made straight As.”
    Leah knew Amish kids left school after the eighth grade because, according to Charity, the Amish saw no need for advanced education. Eventually the Amish teen would take his or her place in the community and therefore hadno real need for more schooling. Farming, carpentry work and rearing families were not tasks that needed degrees. Preserving the Amish way of life superseded everything else. “Didn’t Eli drop out of school?” she asked.
    “No. One of his teachers came out to the farm to talk to Papa. She showed Papa test scores and told him that Eli was very smart—too smart to drop out. She said it would be a sin to let such intelligence go to waste. She talked Papa into letting Eli continue