as she walked down the hallway.
“So is that it?” Leah asked quietly. “Is that everything there is for me to know about my dad, about the past?”
“Yes,” her mother answered. Then she added, “Just one other thing. You may not understand a lot of my choices. You may be angry about the way things went for you as you were growing up. But until you have a child of your own—until you have to make choices and decisions for your child’s welfare—please hold back judgment on the way I’ve handled things.”
Leah stared at her mother. At the moment, she couldn’t imagine having a child of her own. At the moment, she couldn’t imagine even wanting one.
The experimental drug was not kind to Neil. He became deathly sick. His hair fell out. Sores erupted on his body. He lost so much weight that he couldn’t wear any of his clothes, and Leah’s mother had to buy him a new wardrobe. Once Dr. Nguyen allowed him to go home, Neil stayed in bed, too ill to get up. Leah watched a few oftheir favorite television shows with him at night, but Neil usually fell asleep. Sometimes he felt so nauseated he had to be helped to the bathroom.
Ethan continued to be invaluable to the household. He did every chore Leah’s mother asked him to and continued to keep Neil’s cars clean and polished—all while he worked days at Dr. Prater’s. His presence brought calm and eased tension in the house. Leah’s mother was less likely to fly off the handle when Ethan was around. Leah was more likely to be nice to her mother in Ethan’s company. Neil kept saying how grateful he was that Ethan was looking out for them.
Neil apologized to Ethan over his inability to continue the search for Eli. Ethan assured him it was all right. “I’ll get back to it when I’m feeling better,” Neil promised.
Ethan received letters from his family, and he occasionally wrote letters home. He never shared the contents of his mail with Leah, except to say, “Charity sends a hello to you.” It hurt Leah that he didn’t, but then she had not told him of her talks withNeil and her mother, either. She wasn’t trying to hide the information about her childhood from him, but she knew it was totally out of his Amish frame of reference. How could he ever relate to a father gone mad? Or to a childhood filled with a regiment of stepfathers? Or to marriage vows broken with the rap of a judge’s gavel?
In March Leah received her SAT scores. She was stunned to learn that she had scored high enough to rank nineteenth in her senior class of 321.
“Wow,” Sherry said in awe. “I didn’t know you were so smart. No offense.”
“None taken,” Leah said with a laugh. “I didn’t know either.”
The news gave Neil a spurt of energy he hadn’t had in weeks. “Good for you, kiddo,” he said from his bed when she told him. A smile lit his haggard face.
Her mother acted especially pleased about her scores. “I always knew you were bright. I read to you every night before bed when I didn’t have to go to work.”
Leah was ashamed to admit that she didn’t remember.
Leah’s school counselor called her in to discuss her scores. “Surely you’ve chosen a college by now,” Mrs. Garvey said.
Flustered, Leah answered, “No. I—I’m not even sure I’m going to college.”
Mrs. Garvey leafed through Leah’s records. “I know that your grades aren’t exemplary, but you’ve brought them up steadily over the past year, and now your SATs prove that you’re college material. You really should consider going, Leah. There are many fine colleges and universities in Indiana, if going too far from home is a problem.”
Leah had too much on her mind at the moment to do more than nod, thank the counselor and take a sheaf of brochures from her.
In late March, the high school sponsored the Spring Fling, a week of activities that culminated with a carnival on the school grounds. A boy named James asked Sherry to go to the carnival, and Sherry begged Leah to
“So is that it?” Leah asked quietly. “Is that everything there is for me to know about my dad, about the past?”
“Yes,” her mother answered. Then she added, “Just one other thing. You may not understand a lot of my choices. You may be angry about the way things went for you as you were growing up. But until you have a child of your own—until you have to make choices and decisions for your child’s welfare—please hold back judgment on the way I’ve handled things.”
Leah stared at her mother. At the moment, she couldn’t imagine having a child of her own. At the moment, she couldn’t imagine even wanting one.
The experimental drug was not kind to Neil. He became deathly sick. His hair fell out. Sores erupted on his body. He lost so much weight that he couldn’t wear any of his clothes, and Leah’s mother had to buy him a new wardrobe. Once Dr. Nguyen allowed him to go home, Neil stayed in bed, too ill to get up. Leah watched a few oftheir favorite television shows with him at night, but Neil usually fell asleep. Sometimes he felt so nauseated he had to be helped to the bathroom.
Ethan continued to be invaluable to the household. He did every chore Leah’s mother asked him to and continued to keep Neil’s cars clean and polished—all while he worked days at Dr. Prater’s. His presence brought calm and eased tension in the house. Leah’s mother was less likely to fly off the handle when Ethan was around. Leah was more likely to be nice to her mother in Ethan’s company. Neil kept saying how grateful he was that Ethan was looking out for them.
Neil apologized to Ethan over his inability to continue the search for Eli. Ethan assured him it was all right. “I’ll get back to it when I’m feeling better,” Neil promised.
Ethan received letters from his family, and he occasionally wrote letters home. He never shared the contents of his mail with Leah, except to say, “Charity sends a hello to you.” It hurt Leah that he didn’t, but then she had not told him of her talks withNeil and her mother, either. She wasn’t trying to hide the information about her childhood from him, but she knew it was totally out of his Amish frame of reference. How could he ever relate to a father gone mad? Or to a childhood filled with a regiment of stepfathers? Or to marriage vows broken with the rap of a judge’s gavel?
In March Leah received her SAT scores. She was stunned to learn that she had scored high enough to rank nineteenth in her senior class of 321.
“Wow,” Sherry said in awe. “I didn’t know you were so smart. No offense.”
“None taken,” Leah said with a laugh. “I didn’t know either.”
The news gave Neil a spurt of energy he hadn’t had in weeks. “Good for you, kiddo,” he said from his bed when she told him. A smile lit his haggard face.
Her mother acted especially pleased about her scores. “I always knew you were bright. I read to you every night before bed when I didn’t have to go to work.”
Leah was ashamed to admit that she didn’t remember.
Leah’s school counselor called her in to discuss her scores. “Surely you’ve chosen a college by now,” Mrs. Garvey said.
Flustered, Leah answered, “No. I—I’m not even sure I’m going to college.”
Mrs. Garvey leafed through Leah’s records. “I know that your grades aren’t exemplary, but you’ve brought them up steadily over the past year, and now your SATs prove that you’re college material. You really should consider going, Leah. There are many fine colleges and universities in Indiana, if going too far from home is a problem.”
Leah had too much on her mind at the moment to do more than nod, thank the counselor and take a sheaf of brochures from her.
In late March, the high school sponsored the Spring Fling, a week of activities that culminated with a carnival on the school grounds. A boy named James asked Sherry to go to the carnival, and Sherry begged Leah to
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