A Clean Break (Gay Amish Romance Book 2) (3 page)

“Yes,” David answered. “But I like it.” He took the mug from Aaron and tried not to stare. Last night it had been dark and late, and he’d been too tired to pay much attention. But now he examined Aaron in the light of day.

David vaguely remembered him from years ago in Red Hills, and he wouldn’t have recognized Aaron if not for the twinkle in his smile that was so reminiscent of Isaac. Aaron was blond and taller than he remembered—probably six-two; a bit bigger than David—and he looked so…
English
. He wore gray pants with a buttoned-up shirt and
pink
tie that matched little checks on his socks. His belt buckle gleamed around his slim waist.

David had to say something. “Um, how did you make the coffee so fast?”

“It’s on a timer. Here, I’ll show you.” Aaron nodded toward a machine on the counter where he put the glass pot back into its slot. “See these buttons? You can set it to start brewing for whatever time you want. It’s great to wake up and have it ready.”

“I guess I’m used to Mother getting up early to make it. I have no idea how to do anything in the kitchen. I’ve seen things in movies, but…”

Aaron smiled easily. “Yeah, there’s quite a learning curve. But you’ll get the hang of it. Oh, did you want to try it with milk or sugar? I still just drink it black.”

“No—this is fine.” David took a sip, sighing as he swallowed the bitter liquid. He was struck by how light and happy Aaron seemed now. After following church, Aaron had been so somber. He heard Joshua’s voice echo in his mind.
“If I end up as miserable as Aaron Byler, run me over with the plow.”
How Joshua had laughed at David’s scandalized expression.

“I thought you’d both be fast asleep most of the morning after that journey. I have to go into work until lunch, but I got a sub for my classes this afternoon and tomorrow.”

“I don’t know why I woke up. But Isaac’s still sleeping.” He gulped his coffee
. Aaron knows there’s only one bed in there
.

But Aaron went on like everything was normal. “Are you hungry? Help yourself to anything.” He opened a wood box on the counter. “There are bagels and bread in here, and that’s the toaster. Do you know how to use it? It’s plugged in already, so you just need to put the bread in the slots and press this knob down.” He mimed the motion.

“Looks easy enough. I know a bit, I guess. I used a fridge at my friend June’s.”

“I spoke to her the other night after she took you to the bus station. I’m so glad she was able to help you guys. You can give her a call if you want. I did email her this morning to let her know you made it safe and sound.”

For some reason, David hesitated. It would be wonderful to hear June’s voice, but the thought of speaking to anyone close to Zebulon made his pulse race. “I will soon. I just want to settle in first.”

“Take all the time you need. Believe me, I know this is a tough transition.” Aaron sipped his coffee. “So, you like movies?”

“Uh-huh. There’s a drive-in near Zebulon I’d go to sometimes. I took Isaac once.” David ran his hand over the shiny stone counter, his ears burning as he remembered how that night had ended.

Isaac was beneath him on the ground, David fitting between his legs as if it was exactly how it was supposed to be. The wet heat of Isaac’s generous kisses burned, and his fingers were tight in David’s hair, his whisper hot.

“Yes.”

Aaron grinned. “I’ll show you how to use Netflix, and you can watch all the movies you want. If you have any questions about anything, just ask. I know how overwhelming it can be at first.” He glanced at the clock on the microwave. “Jen came home a while ago. She’ll sleep until the afternoon, but don’t worry about noise. That’s the great thing about having a townhouse. Besides, I swear she could sleep through a nuclear war. Doctors get so used to staying up during residency that if they get the chance they’re out like a light.”

“Okay. Thanks.” He wasn’t sure what residency was, and he couldn’t help but marvel a bit that Aaron’s wife was actually a doctor. Not only did she go to work, but at all hours as well. He wondered if it bothered Aaron, but he supposed it must not. When he tried to imagine Mother or his sisters working anywhere but at home, he failed completely.

“Isaac’s still asleep?”

His cheeks hot, David stared at his mug. “Uh-huh. He didn’t rest much on the way here.”

“You don’t have to be embarrassed. You and Isaac sleeping together doesn’t bother me at all. Or Jen. I promise.”

David risked a glance at Aaron’s face. “But how does it not bother you? I know Isaac’s your brother, but you barely even know me, and he and I are…and it’s…”

“What?” Aaron leaned a hip against the counter, his voice calm. “What is it?”

David tried in vain to think of the right word, but all he could come up with was, “Wrong.”

“Does it feel wrong?” Aaron sipped his coffee as if he’d just asked about the weather.

“No.” Heart thumping, David stared at his bare toes on the pale wood. “I know it’s a sin, but I can’t help myself.”

“I don’t think it’s a sin at all.” Aaron laughed sharply. “And I think the Bible’s nonsense that men use to keep people under their thumbs.”

Blinking, David opened his mouth and closed it again, half expected a lightning bolt to strike them down right there in the kitchen.
Nonsense?

“Sorry—I didn’t mean to upset you.” Aaron smiled ruefully. “I know you and Isaac are believers, and that’s totally okay. Jen believes in God too. So don’t let me make you feel uncomfortable.”

David tried to find the words. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t believe in God. I did growing up, of course. It never occurred to me that it was even a possibility not to.”

“I…” David opened and closed his mouth like a fish. “How can you not believe in God?”

“I just don’t,” Aaron said, as if it was nothing. “It was a process. I went to other churches here and there after I left Red Hills. I did a lot of reading. A lot of soul searching, I guess. Eventually I realized religion doesn’t make sense to me. The notion that there’s an omniscient being up there controlling our lives and passing judgment? I don’t believe it.”

“But…” David’s head spun. “I guess I’ve never considered it. I’ve thought about the Amish church, and the things about it that don’t make sense. But to think that there’s no God at all…” He shivered, gripping the ceramic mug. It was impossible. Even though he knew he was going to hell, the idea that God might not actually exist made him feel horribly wrong all over.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Aaron squeezed David’s shoulder. “Everyone has to make their own journey with their faith, or lack thereof. I’m not trying to convince you. It’s a personal thing, and there’s plenty of time for you and Isaac to explore your beliefs.” He winced. “I sound like a self-help book. Sorry. And this is a heavy conversation to be having on only one cup of coffee after the bus ride you just had.”

“I don’t mind.” David forced himself to breathe again. “I suppose I’ve never known anyone who didn’t believe.” He couldn’t help but feel saddened by Aaron’s lack of faith.

“We can talk about it later. Or not—no pressure.” Aaron splashed more coffee into his mug and blew out a long breath. “And I didn’t want to get into it until you guys were rested, but can you tell me what happened? Isaac had said you wouldn’t leave Zebulon, but obviously something changed.”

David traced the rim of his mug. “I was afraid. I knew I had to stay and look after my family. It was selfish to leave, but when it came down to it, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t live without Isaac. And even if he didn’t want me anymore, I couldn’t marry some poor girl I’d never be a real husband to.”

Acid bubbled in David’s gut as he imagined what kind, quiet Grace would think of him running away to the world. Granted he’d only driven her home from the singing twice—they hadn’t even been going steady by Amish standards, let alone been close to marriage. But she’d liked him for ages, and he’d used that.

I never should have gotten her hopes up
. He’d known deep down he was fooling himself. He let himself think that once he made that vow to God and his community everything would somehow fall into place, like an English magic trick. If he’d gone through with it, he’d have only made them both miserable.

“It’s not selfish, David. You wouldn’t be doing anyone any favors in the long run. Trust me. I thought I could do it too. If the plain life isn’t what you want in your heart, all the prayers in the world won’t change it.” Aaron smiled faintly. “I thought if I could just get it out of my system and join the church, God would help me fit in. That He would bring me peace. It doesn’t work like that.”

“You’ve never regretted leaving?”

Aaron sighed. “Only that it meant being cut off from my family. I’m not going to lie—it’s hard. Since I’d joined the church before I left, I’m shunned. If anyone found out my sister Abigail in Red Hills still writes me, she’d be in serious trouble. Abigail keeps it a secret from her husband. Our sister Hannah is there too, but she wouldn’t break the rules.”

“My sister Emma is still there. I should write to her. Although she’s so much older she might as well be a stranger.”

“Is she the eldest?”

David nodded. “After her, I think there was a baby that didn’t make it. I don’t really know, but there was almost five years before Joshua came. That’s not the usual way. But I never asked. Emma has half a dozen children of her own now.”

“I wish I could know Abigail’s kids. I feel a little like I do from her letters.” Aaron swallowed thickly. “I hated leaving my brothers and sisters. Isaac especially. He was always…we were close. I can’t tell you what it means to see him again. When he called, I couldn’t believe I was hearing his voice. So grown up now.”

“I’ve never been so far away from my mother and sisters. I wish there was a way I could still talk to them.”

“You can’t be excommunicated if you didn’t join the church. If no one knows you’re gay, it should be fine to write. Even visit if they’ll have you. Of course you know you’ll get guilt tripped into going back for good. Your mother will tell you the only way to heaven is to be Amish. If you write, that’s all you’re likely to get in return: pleas to go home.”

“My sister Anna would write more, though. I know she would. Mary…” He winced.

“What?”

“Even if Mary doesn’t know the whole truth, I’m not sure she’ll forgive me for taking Isaac away. She’s had her heart set on him for ages.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m a terrible brother.”

“But you love him, don’t you?”

Again, there was no judgment in Aaron’s gaze. How odd it was to talk so plainly with him about feelings. But David said the words. “More than anything.”

Aaron smiled. “Then that’s all that matters. Gay or straight, love is the same. Straight means men and women together. There are so many different words here—it was almost like learning English all over again.” He got a faraway look in his eyes. “I used to switch back and forth between German and English so easily. My German’s pretty rusty now. I wonder what word they’d use instead of gay. Not that the Amish would ever really talk about it.”

David shook his head. “You say it out loud so easily. I can when I’m alone, or I’m with Isaac. When I can forget it’s a sin. But you act like it’s nothing at all. And I think the word they’d use is abomination.”
Heathen. Unclean. Deceiver
.

Aaron grimaced. “Undoubtedly. But it isn’t an abomination. It’s the way you were born. There’s nothing wrong with being gay. I know you and Isaac probably don’t believe that yet, but you will. And there are plenty of Christians who don’t think it’s a sin either.”

For a moment, David could only stare at Aaron. “Christians? But…how?”

“The Bible can be interpreted in so many ways. There are religious people who aren’t homophobic.”

David contemplated the word.
Homophobic
. “It
truly
doesn’t bother you? That we’re…” He waved his hand.

Aaron chuckled. “Not even a little. I’m glad you’re here, David. You don’t have to hide your feelings now. You don’t have to hide who you are.”

David gulped his coffee for fear he might cry otherwise. He took a deep breath. “I don’t know what to say. I have some money saved, but I need to make sure my Mother gets most of it. Everything else I’ll give to you, and—”

“No you won’t. At least not until you and Isaac are settled and you figure out what you want to do. There’s no rush. Jen and I agreed.” Aaron smiled softly. “I always hoped one of the kids would find me. I thought it would be Ephraim, though. Isaac always followed the rules so quietly and diligently.”

“Until he met me. I don’t want to impose.”

“I made sure we had a couple of spare rooms when we bought this house, just in case. We want to have kids one day, but even if I never saw my brothers or sisters again, I needed to be sure they had a place here. We’re glad you’re here, okay? Please don’t worry about money right now. Jen and I have enough. Her parents practically paid our entire mortgage as a wedding present.”

“Wow.”

Aaron laughed fondly. “Jen says they were so happy she was finally getting married they were probably willing to pay me too.”

David smiled. “She sounds nice.”

“The best.” Aaron drained his mug. “Okay, I’ve gotta run. I’ll see you soon. In the meantime, make yourself at home.”

Not sure what else to do, David walked with Aaron to the front door and watched him put on his shiny leather shoes and zip up his coat. He waved and stood at the front window, watching Aaron back his car out of the driveway onto the steep road before zooming away into the lingering fog.

The house was still again, and David imagined Isaac upstairs still fast asleep and peaceful. He rolled around the word in his mind as though it was brand new.

Home
.