Until Angels Close My Eyes (13 page)

“No,” her mother said. “When he was in his right mind, it was true. But when he had an episode, when he heard voices telling him to protect you, even if it meant running away with you or hiding you, I panicked. One night I came home from work and he thought I was the Angel of Death come to snatch you away. That’s when I moved out. I didn’t have any place to go—my parents were dead, and Grandma Hall thought I was a horrible person for deserting her son. I found us a
dumpy little trailer in a crummy trailer park, but it was all I could afford. I worked nights, and a neighbor watched you. I married Don when you were five.”

Leah remembered the trailer more clearly than she did her first stepfather. He took off when she was six. The trailer remained her home until she was almost seven. When Leah’s mother would go to work, Leah would lie alone in the dark, terrified, listening to the sounds of the night outside her window. They had moved from the trailer into an apartment when Leah’s mother married her third husband. That marriage, too, had ended in divorce. Leah had been nine. But when Leah was ten, her real father died, homeless and alone in an alley far away in Oregon. Then Grandma Hall died and Leah’s mother married for the fourth time.

Leah’s fourth stepfather was years younger than her mother, and Leah had disliked him intensely. He left them less than a year later. Then she and her mother lived alone for two years. Finally Neil had entered their lives and had given them both
a sense of being cared for. Leah had thought the hard times were finally over. But she was wrong. Now they might lose Neil to cancer.

Leah turned to face her mother. “Neil said Grandma Hall tried to get custody of me. Is that true?”

“She threatened me with a custody battle right after your father and I separated,” her mother replied. “Voices had told him that a mysterious stranger was stalking him and was going to kill him. It wasn’t true, of course, just another one of his delusions. But he left me with a pile of bills, a child to raise, and no money. I was angry. When your grandmother tried to take you away, I freaked. Of course, we never went to court, but I swore that she’d never see you again.”

But she did,
Leah thought. Her grandmother had sneaked into Leah’s day care centers and schools to visit her. Even now, Leah couldn’t bring herself to tell her mother that. “But when she got sick, you took me to the hospital to see her.”

“I did,” her mother said with a sigh. “I felt sorry for her. She was alone. Her son—
your father—was dead. She had no one else in the world but you. And I didn’t want her to die without making my peace with her.”

Leah realized that many of her notions, ideas and impressions of her childhood were not correct. She’d thought her father had been a sad and lonely man, driven off by her mother. Her recollections of her mother’s and grandmother’s animosity had been true enough, but now Leah understood their enmity. Maybe her grandmother had meant well, but wouldn’t any mother fight to keep her only child?

Even her mother’s many marriages took on new meaning for Leah. Her mother had married to improve her lot in life. Using marriage to better oneself seemed distasteful to Leah, but she realized that her mother had probably considered herself resourceful each time. Leah began to understand why her mother had always worked at menial jobs. Without a high-school diploma, she’d probably had no choice.

From the nurse’s desk down the hall, Leah heard a doctor being paged. Weak February sunshine pooled on the toe of her boot. The smell of old coffee hung in the
air. A nurse’s aide rattled bedpans 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 of
their 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 with
Neil 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 bring Ethan and double-date with them. “I’m scared,” Sherry told Leah. “I’ve never had a date before, and I’d just feel
better if you were with me for moral support.”

Leah agreed, even though she didn’t really want to go. On the night of the carnival, she and Ethan met Sherry and James in the gym parking lot. The four of them headed to the football field, where an enormous tent had been erected. It was packed with kids, teachers and guests. Along the sides of the tent, booths had been set up with games of chance. Proceeds would go toward buying library books and new sports equipment for the high school—“after we split the money with the carnival owners,” James said in a tone that assured the others he had privileged information. “And everybody knows these games are rigged in the carnival owners’ favor.”

“Is that a fact?” Ethan asked innocently.

“Absolutely,” James said, pulling his baseball cap tight against his head. “No one can win.”

“Then we shall have to un-rig them,” Ethan said, heading over to the nearest booth.

“What’s he going to do?” Sherry asked.

Leah flashed a smile. “Come see for yourself.”

They walked over to a booth where rows of wooden bottles were stacked. “Try your luck,” said the man in the booth. “Three balls for a dollar. Knock ’em down and win a prize for the little lady.” Leah had gone to a carnival with Ethan in the summer, and she knew how talented and clever he was at the game. The booth tender hadn’t a clue.

“Yeah, Ethan,” a voice boomed from beside them. “Win the little lady a great big prize.”

Startled, Leah jumped. She spun to see Dave Simmons’s mocking grin and malevolent glare.

L
eah stiffened. Dave was the last person she wanted to be near. Cory Nelson, one of the school’s more popular cheerleaders, was hanging on his arm.

Ethan offered an open, friendly smile. “Would you like to try first?” he asked Dave.

Sneering, Dave said, “I’m sure I can do better than you, choirboy.”

Three of Dave’s buddies, who were standing behind him, laughed. Leah wondered if Dave ever did anything without an audience.

Ethan held out the three balls. “You can buy the next set.”

Dave took the balls and turned to Cory. “What prize do you want?”

Cory studied the grouping of stuffed animals, then pointed up at a large, bright green dragon. “That would look cute in my room.”

Dave nodded, shouldered up to the booth, aimed and threw a ball with such force that it nearly made a hole in the back of the canvas. But his pitch missed the bottles entirely. “Hey, watch it!” the booth tender growled.

Dave glared at him and heaved a second ball at the next stack of wooden bottles. Only the top bottle fell. His friends clapped him on the back and said, “Way to go!”

Dave’s third pitch toppled only one more bottle from the third grouping. Dave stared in dismay. “Hey, this thing is rigged!”

Ignoring Dave’s outburst, the booth tender asked, “You going to try again? If not, move aside. There’s a line behind you.”

Ethan stepped up to the booth and looked at Dave expectantly. Dave cursed but pulled out a crumpled dollar bill and slapped it down. “Your turn, choirboy.”

Ethan took the balls the man handed
him, eyed the bottles, then lofted a ball toward the first stack. It tumbled backward. He did it two more times, each time toppling a pyramid. Dave and his friends stared open-mouthed at Ethan’s effortless accomplishment.

The booth manager said, “You did it, kid. What’s your pleasure?”

Ethan looked at Leah. She pointed to the dragon. When the man handed it to her, Leah held it out to Cory. “Ethan wins this stuff for me all the time. Take this from us,” she said sweetly.

Dave’s expression looked murderous, but Cory, oblivious to the tension among Leah, Dave and Ethan, squealed and grabbed the stuffed animal. “Too cool. Thanks, Leah.”

Leah hooked her arm through Ethan’s and walked away. Sherry and James, who had watched from one side, joined them. Sherry said, “I think you made Dave mad.”

“But why?” Ethan asked. “It was a fair contest.”

“Dave doesn’t play fair,” Leah said. “But so what? He’s a creep and I’m glad you beat him.”

Ethan stopped. “I did not act kindly toward him. I knew I could win and I forced him to go against me. I did not play fair either.”

James snorted. “Quit with the attack of good conscience already. The guy would have humiliated you if he’d won.”

“He’s right,” Leah told Ethan.

“Still,” Ethan said, “I should have been a better person. I have been taught, ‘Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.’ ”

“Don’t you mean, ‘Do unto others
before
they do it to you’?” James laughed at his own joke.