Her Brother's Keeper (10 page)

Hannah stopped, turned around, and lifted an eyebrow. “What's wrong?”

Charlotte drew in a breath. “Is this the place . . . the place where . . .?”

“What?” Hannah gave her head a little shake before she put her hands on her hips. “What place?”

“Where, uh . . . your friend . . . uh, Ethan . . . ended his life?” Charlotte didn't want to ever go to that place, and if Hannah was bringing her to Ethan's hanging tree, Charlotte was turning back.

“Nee
. Of course not,” Hannah said. “But this is where Ethan and I used to come. And I promise that once we get past these woods, you will love what you see.” She turned and started walking again. “Ethan loved it here.”

Charlotte couldn't imagine that she would love whatever was on the other side of the wilderness, as she brushed away a spider's web that Hannah had managed to avoid. But she was curious what her brother found so attractive here, so she marched forward in her black leather loafers that were ugly as sin, but the most comfortable shoes she'd ever worn.

The path ended, and as if walking through a doorway into another world, the forest was behind them, and Charlotte followed Hannah out onto a lush, freshly
mowed clearing that looked as big as a football field. It was as lovely as any of the yards surrounding the Amish homes both in town and in the rural areas. As the sun swelled on the horizon, Charlotte brought a hand to her forehead to block the glare, but there was no denying the beauty kept secret by the thick forest surrounding this spot. “Wow,” she whispered as she took in the view. “I can see why Ethan liked it here.” Just saying his name caused a knot to pulse in her throat, so she pressed her lips together and kept following Hannah across the open field.

In the distance, she could see a small structure tucked into the tree line. “What's that?” She pointed to her right as she quickened her pace and caught up with Hannah.

“It's the original outhouse that belonged to the homestead that used to stand here. When Ethan tore down the house, I asked him to keep one thing that belonged to the man who used to own the property, since he was someone respected in our community. His name was Jonas Miller. He grew up in the farmhouse that used to be here, and he and his wife Irma Rose lived here for a while before they bought a house off of Black Horse Road. They both died, and this tract of land had been all but forgotten until Ethan stumbled upon it one day while out exploring.”

“It's really pretty,” Charlotte said, being careful not to let her voice crack. She could almost feel Ethan around her. “Was Ethan . . . um . . .” She gulped, trying to harness all the emotion bubbling to the surface. “Was Ethan
going to build a house here?” This was definitely a place he would have chosen.

Hannah nodded and smiled, even though her eyes were glassy. “He went to go see Sarah Jane, Jonas's daughter. She'd forgotten about the property and happily sold it to Ethan.” She slowed her pace as they neared the lone structure with a half-moon carved into the door. “Much of this was still wooded, but Ethan began working to clear it, then decided he liked it this way, surrounded by the woods.”

She walked to the side of the outhouse and ran her hand along the side. There was a heart with the names Jonas and Irma Rose inside of it. Others had carved their names as well—Sarah Jane, Samuel, Lillian, Lizzie, and several others. She breathed in the freshly mowed grass. “Who keeps this mowed?”

Hannah smiled again. “I have no idea.”

Charlotte frowned. “How can you not know who is taking care of your property?”
Or is it Ethan's property?
That thought brought up an interesting point. Charlotte had insisted that Ethan's body be sent home to Texas, finally hiring an attorney to make it happen. But otherwise, she knew of no possessions outside of the small savings he had in Houston and the sparse furnishings in his apartment.

“Many in our district knew that Ethan and I loved this place, and I think someone is tending it out of respect to Ethan.” Hannah tucked a strand of loose hair behind
her ear. “I don't know. I guess they will tire of it someday.” She ran her hand gingerly across the etched names, sighing. “Ethan and I were going to write our names here after we were married.”

“What's that?” Charlotte took in a deep breath when she saw Ethan's name etched across the small cross a few yards from the outhouse.

Hannah moved toward the cross and squatted down in front of it. “Ethan's family told us we had to send his body back to Texas.” She glanced up at Charlotte. “He was raised in Dallas. Is that anywhere close to where you grew up or where you live now in Beeville?”

“No,” she said softly as she recalled their move from Dallas to Waco. That was when their family structure started to fall apart. Their father had an affair, and their mother never recovered from the betrayal.

“Anyway,” Hannah went on, “Ethan's sister hired a lawman to make sure Ethan's body was sent to Houston, which is where she lives. Ethan and I had talked about both being buried in our family cemetery someday. When I wrote his sister a letter explaining that, I didn't even hear back from her, but the lawman got word to us.”

Charlotte's shoulders had never felt heavier, like the burdens of the world rested on them as she tried to decide if Ethan would have really said he wanted to be buried here. She remembered reading that letter, but at the time, Charlotte just wanted Ethan home, and she'd placed full blame for his death on Hannah. During the
first few weeks following her brother's death, she needed someone to be accountable. Over time, Charlotte's therapist had worked hard to try to convince her that Ethan was ultimately responsible for his own life. But Charlotte still struggled to accept that.

“So, is anything buried there?” Charlotte pointed to the cross.

Hannah stood up. “
Ya
. A few special things that both Ethan and I treasured. It was all I had, and I needed a place to come to mourn.”

As the sun settled behind some clouds, Hannah took a few steps to her left, sat down in the grass, then laid back. “Ethan and I used to lay here and find pictures in the clouds.” She looked up at Charlotte and grinned. “That must sound silly, but have you ever done that?”

Plenty of times. With Ethan.
She nodded.

“Let's find pictures now.” She patted the green grass beside her.

Charlotte let out a small grunt. “I was a kid when I did it. I mean . . .” She thought about Ethan lying on the grass staring up at the clouds. “Okay.” Easing herself onto the ground, she felt a bit ridiculous and thought briefly about ants and other creepy crawlies, but the smell and feel of the freshly cut grass instantly took her back to happier times, before things had gone bad between her parents. She was glad that she could recall those few good memories.

“What do you see?” Hannah folded her hands across her stomach and crossed her ankles.

Charlotte felt like she was six years old again. “I don't know.”
Clouds. Dark clouds.

They were both quiet as the sun continued to fade, but Charlotte turned toward Hannah when she heard her crying. With her face covered, Hannah said, “Every time I come here, I look toward the sky for some sort of sign that Ethan went to heaven. I beg God to let me know that my Ethan is there with Him. But I see nothing. Not even pictures anymore.”

Charlotte held her breath as an overwhelming need to comfort Hannah wrapped around her, but instead she just closed her eyes, knowing she wasn't going to see any formations in the clouds either. No answers. No visions. And no one to comfort her.

They were both quiet again, until Hannah sniffled and said, “Do you believe that Ethan is in heaven?”

Charlotte snapped her head to the side until she was eye to eye with Hannah. “If there is a heaven, Ethan is there.”

There was no mistaking the confused expression on Hannah's face. “What do you mean, Mary?
If
there is a heaven?”

Charlotte was so tired of lying. It took way more energy than telling the truth, and one tiny web of lies was turning into a thick nest of betrayal. “Don't you ever wonder? Don't you ever doubt or question if there really is . . . a place we go after we die?”

Hannah didn't look like she was breathing as she
stared at Charlotte. “
Nee
. Not once have I wondered about that.”

“Then why are you questioning if Ethan is there?”

Hannah's chest rose and fell as she drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Because some people don't think you will go to heaven if you take your own life.” She turned to Charlotte again. “And I can't imagine being in heaven without Ethan.”

Charlotte didn't know what to say so she refocused on the clouds as they shifted across the sky, and eventually Hannah did too.

After a few minutes, she could see a picture forming, as if an artist with a brush was creating a painting right in front of her. When she realized what it was, she put a hand over her mouth so she wouldn't gasp, but she couldn't control the tears filling her eyes. She bolted upright, shaken, but never more thankful.
Ethan is in heaven. There must be a heaven.
Charlotte wanted to shout it from the rooftops, but Hannah would want to know what she saw and how Charlotte could be so sure Ethan was with God. Then her cover would be blown.

Hannah sat up quickly. “What did you see?”

Charlotte did what she did best. And told another lie.

After supper, Charlotte had struggled through the nightly devotions with Hannah and the rest of the family. Now
that she was tuned in to the possibility that there was a God and an afterlife, there seemed to be a giant overhaul of her soul underway, and it was painful and unwelcome. She thought back to what Ryan had said.
When a person first begins to develop a relationship with God, it's like a cleansing of the soul or something.

Charlotte had no doubt that she needed a life overhaul, but at what cost? She pulled her knees to her chest and pulled her oversize white T-shirt over her knees. Rocking back and forth on the bed, she closed her eyes and reminded herself why she was here. Then she forced herself to think about Ethan dangling from a noose, hanging from a tree in his yard. And that vision was enough to get her back on the course she'd set before she arrived, no matter how painful the truth might be. She found her yellow pad between the mattresses and got comfy.

August 28

The Plain People seem to pride themselves on separating themselves from the world because of their unwavering faith in God, but what happens when one of their own takes his or her own life? Will that person go to heaven? Did Ethan go to heaven? Apparently, the Amish debate this question like many other religions. Hannah is really struggling with this, and I believe that her grief about Ethan is real, but I can't help but wonder what goes on behind closed doors here.

Charlotte paused. She'd had enough counseling to know that just because her childhood had been horrible, that didn't mean there weren't good people in the world. Her parents' way of raising children wasn't the norm.

She thought about what she saw in the clouds today.

I'm choosing to believe in God. I'm choosing to believe that Ethan is in heaven.

But if that was the case, Charlotte wondered if she would ever see her brother again. She was pretty sure there wasn't a reserved seat for her on the other side of the pearly gates.

Charlotte knew about the fund that the Amish all contributed to for medical needs, and she wondered if Ethan should have seen a counselor, and if that option had ever been offered to him.

Putting the pad beside her on the bed, she stretched her legs out in front of her, leaned against her pillow, and picked up her cell phone. When Ryan answered, she filled him in on the day.

“So, do you believe in signs?” she asked him after she told him what she'd seen in the clouds.

“I don't know. I think God sometimes gives us signs. Faith means believing in what we can't see, and God doesn't have to prove Himself. But, I have to admit, it's pretty cool that you saw that.”

Charlotte still wondered if she'd created the formation in the clouds just by wishing it to be so. Or was it the sign she'd asked God for?

She jumped when she heard a noise that sounded like it was coming from outside. “Hey, I gotta go. I hear something out in the yard. I'll call you tomorrow.”

Charlotte shined her flashlight on the wood floors and tiptoed to the window. She waited until the light from the propane lamp caught the shadow running through the yard and wasn't too surprised to see that it was Jacob. She'd been right when she thought she'd heard the front door opening late at night. Apparently, Amish and English teenagers had something in common.

Six