Continuation on Lurlene McDaniel's ANGELS trilogy

"Sarah!" Leah Lewis-Hall Logan hollered from the kitchen.

"Yeah, Mom? Coming!" Leah's daughter, Sarah Logan, ran downstairs, taking the steps two at a time. She rounded the corner at the bottom of the stairs, and nearly crashed into a floating basket of laundry.

"Mom?" Sarah asked, confused. Leah set down the basket of clothing and smiled at her daughter, hands on her hips.

"Hello, little fleet-foot. Want to help me with the laundry?"

"Sure!" Sarah picked up one end of the basket, and Leah grabbed the other. Together, they headed into the living room, where they dumped the clothes on one side of the beige leather couch.

Sarah grabbed a large green T-shirt and began folding it. First she tucked the sleeves back, then she folded the shirt in half, then into a square. She hummed as she worked, quickly reducing the large pile of laundry. In a mere matter of moments, the chore was done. Leah sat back on her heels and opened her arms to Sarah.

"What will I do without you?" she murmured, hugging her daughter tightly. Involuntarily, a small tear slipped from her eye and splashed on her daughter's long dark hair. Sarah felt it, and leaned back to look at her mom sternly.

"Mommy, you promised you wouldn't cry. And besides, I won't be gone so long. It's only for a while. You're the one who suggested the trip, remember? But of course, I can still stay if you want me to. It's not that big of a deal."

Leah wiped her eyes with one hand and shook her head. "No. I want you to go. It will do you good to get out of here for a while."

"It would do me good to get out of here with you for a while, too." Sarah pointed out.

Leah smiled slightly. "You've been hanging around with no one but me for a year. Ever since…" Leah's voice broke, but she swallowed and continued, "Anyhow, I think you need to go out a bit on your own. See the world, make some friends, that sort of thing."

"But Mom, you're my friend—"

"I know that, darling, but you need some friends of your own. You can't keep shutting out the world, you know. You need some time alone to figure things out. We've been through this before."

"I know we've been through this before." Sarah sighed. "So why are you still crying?"

"Because I'll miss you. Can't a mother miss her daughter?" Leah asked indignantly.

"Yeah, Mom, but I haven't even gone yet. Don't you think you'd rather have me hang around a few more months, or maybe a year? By then I'll be ready for college."

Leah laughed. "Right. You'll hang around a few more months, and when graduation rolls around, you won't be able to leave. No, Sarah. My mind is made up."

"Alright, Mom. Whatever you say." Sarah sighed again.

"That's right. Whatever I say." Leah leaned over to tickle her daughter. "Now lighten up. You're too serious. Why don't we go out and rent a movie or something?"

"I can't. I have to pack for my trip, remember?" Sarah watched her mother closely to gauge her reaction. Leah's face fell a bit, but then she straightened up and said brightly, "Of course! How could I forget? Just a minute ago, here I was, bawling my eyes out about you leaving me in two days, and now I totally forget that you actually need to pack!" Leah smiled at Sarah, who rolled her eyes theatrically.

"Mom. You weren't exactly bawling. And it's not that big of a deal. I'm just heading to north Indiana for a while. No need for heavy packing. If I really need something, I can always buy it. Besides, Daddy taught me how to live sparsely, remember…?" Sarah paused to take a deep, shuddering breath, then put up a brave smile for her mom's sake. "So, I can come movie-watching with you later!"

"That's my girl!" Leah reached over to ruffle her daughter's hair. "Now c'mon. I'll help you with your packing. First one to the top wins!" She got to her feet and raced up the stairs. With an indignant "Hey! No fair!" Sarah leapt up to run after her mother. The two of them scrambled up the stairs, laughing and gasping, only to collapse in a giggling heap once they reached the top.

17-year-old Rebekah Longacre stood at the kitchen counter in a plain blue cape dress; diligently filling large glass jars with homemade jam. Her sister Mary stood beside her, putting the lids on the cans, a few tendrils of dark hair escaping her prayer bonnet.

Mary and Rebekah were Amish, and they were preparing for tourist season by helping their mother, Martha, prepare the excess foods that they were going to sell. As they quickly and efficiently spooned the warm purple jam into the containers, their mother came inside.

"Mary, Rebekah, I think that's enough for now. Help me prepare the afternoon meal." Obediently, the two girls wiped their hands on their aprons and began to clear up the jam fixings. In an hour, the cooking was finished. Martha went outside to ring the bell that signaled mealtime. Immediately, Matthew and Gabrielle, the two littlest Longacres scampered into view.

"What are we eating?" Matthew asked eagerly. His big sisters laughed at his question and Mary pointed sternly at her brother's dirty hands.

"Go wash up, Matthew, then we'll talk about food." Matthew took his little sister's hand, and the two fair heads disappeared around the corner of the house.

Presently, the sound of heavy men's boots floated through the air. Ethan Longacre and his oldest son, Elijah, appeared from the fields, where they'd been working.

"Come, wash up, you two, then we'll eat." Martha urged them as the little ones reappeared around the corner.

"Papa!" Gabby squealed, launching herself into her father's arms.

Ethan picked up his daughter and smiled down at her curly head. "How is my little girl? Have you been caring for the chickens properly, Gabrielle?"

"Rachel just laid an egg today! It's the biggest one of all!" Gabby exclaimed, flushed with pride over her favorite chicken's achievement.

"Good for her. Now come, your mother is impatient to start the meal. As I am, too." Ethan laughed, and set Gabby back down. Giggling, Gabby grabbed Matthew's hand and the two rushed inside. Behind them, Ethan and Eli smiled at each other and followed them in.