A Forbidden Rumspringa (Gay Amish Romance Book 1) (20 page)

There was an envelope on the worktable, and Mervin picked it up before slapping it back down. “For my sister’s crib. Father sent me to pick it up.”

David jerked his head in a nod.

The finished crib stood nearby, unvarnished wood sturdy and neat, all utilitarian straight lines, where David’s secret creations for the English were often curved and smooth. Mervin picked up one end of it, but even with his stocky strength, he couldn’t carry it properly. Isaac rushed to the other side and lifted it.

Mervin met his gaze, his expression full of hurt and confusion. With a grunt, he looked away and backed up, carrying the crib outside while Isaac followed with his end. He glanced back at David, who swallowed hard, his lips parted as he breathed shallowly. The terror in his eyes made Isaac want to run to him and hold him close.

Outside, Mervin shuffled backwards through the snow impossibly fast, and Isaac struggled to keep up, his arms aching as he hefted the awkward shape of the crib. They loaded it onto the back of Mervin’s buggy on its side, and Mervin threw a blanket over it. He had one foot up to climb into the seat when Isaac reached out.

Snatching his arm away, Mervin stumbled back. “Don’t.”

“Please. Just listen to me.” Isaac’s throat was painfully dry. He licked his lips. “Please.”

Arms wide, Mervin waited. “All right. I’m listening. What could you possibly say?”

An excellent question. “I…I know how it must look…me and David.”

“It looks like sin,” Mervin spat, his face thunderous. “It sounded disgusting. I can’t believe that was you in there.”

The shame roiled his stomach. “I know it’s hard to understand.”

“Hard?
Hard
? It’s impossible, Isaac!” Tears shone in Mervin’s eyes. “You’re my best friend! I thought I knew you. Sure, it’s been different lately. We’ve had so much more responsibility, and we haven’t hung out the way we did at school. But I never thought…” His face twisted. “How could you do that? It’s against everything! God, and the Bible, and…nature!”

All Isaac could do now was tell the truth. “It’s natural to me. I know that sounds crazy, but it is. I never understood what you and Mark and the others saw in girls. I’m not like you.”

“Obviously.” Mervin swiped at his eyes furiously. “It’s the worst kind of sin, Isaac. You
know
that!” He glanced at the barn and lowered his voice, eyes imploring. “Did he make you do it? He’s older, and he’s your boss. Did he pressure you? There’s always been something off about him—just like his brother! He talked you into it, didn’t he?”

For a terribly black moment, Isaac could see the possibility of getting off the hook. The possibility of not losing his best friend.

Mervin went on in a rush. “It’s not your fault, Isaac. If you tell Bishop Yoder—”

“No! Stop.” Isaac shook his head, the selfish moment of temptation burning his cheeks. “You heard me in there. Did it sound like he was making me? Everything we’ve done has been both of us. I know you think it’s bad, but…we’re just different, Mervin. God made us different.”

“
God
? You dare say God had anything to do with
that
?” He jabbed his finger toward the barn. “That’s the devil’s work. It makes me sick, Isaac. You don’t know what you’re saying.”

Tears pricking his eyes, Isaac kept his head high. “I know I love him.” As he said the words for the first time, his heart thumped. He did. He loved David with all his heart. “And I know love isn’t a sin.” It couldn’t be. Could it?

Mervin grimaced. “If that’s really what you believe…” He sniffled and swiped at his eyes. “If that’s what you believe then I pity you. I’ll pray for you, Isaac. That’s all I can do.” He turned to the buggy.

“Wait!”

Mervin didn’t look back, but stopped, his shoulders hunched.

“Please, Mervin. Don’t tell. Not anyone. It would break my parents’ hearts. David’s mother. She’s lost so much already. Our sisters, and my brothers. I’m begging you. Don’t tell.”

For a moment that stretched out painfully in the damp December air, Mervin didn’t move. Then he nodded and climbed onto the buggy. Isaac watched him speed away with wheels clattering, driving his horse hard. When he was gone, Isaac forced his feet to move back to the barn. Inside, David stood just where Isaac had left him.

“He promised not to tell.” Isaac’s voice was flat, and he felt like there was a fog thick around him. Any moment he’d wake up safe in his bed with his annoying brother snoring beside him and hogging the quilt.

David’s body sagged, and he leaned against the table. “We have to be more careful. We can’t…” He scrubbed a hand over his damp hair. “Do you think he’ll keep his promise?”

“He always has before. He’s always been loyal. A good friend.” Isaac blinked back tears. It would never be the same again. “We have to stop, don’t we?”

Eyes closed, David nodded. A tremor rolled through him, and then he straightened up and grabbed his hammer. “Let’s get started on the drawers for Rebecca Lapp’s new dresser,” he gritted out.

Fear and sorrow battled in Isaac. He told himself he’d always known they’d have to stop.
But not yet! Not today!
He wanted to scream and cry.
It’s not fair. It’s not fair!
The urge to go to David and kiss him one more time overwhelmed him. Isaac wavered on his feet. Just one last taste to savor—what would it hurt? No one had to know…

He watched David pound a nail into wood. With a deep breath, Isaac went to the stack of lumber and heaved up a slab of oak. They’d let themselves get carried away for long enough. He picked up his measuring tape, the numbers blurring as he blinked away tears with a deep breath.

They’d always known this day was coming.

Isaac was glad for his hat brim shielding his face as he heaved the big door half shut and stomped the slushy mud off his boots at the front of the barn. He struggled to keep his tone even and his expression neutral as he looked up. “Good morning.”

Standing across the worktable, grim faced with dark circles below his eyes, David nodded. “Morning.”

Isaac brushed the snow from his hat and coat and hung them up. Breathing deeply, he faced David, but any words he might have said seemed stuck inside. He kept the broad table between them, clenching his hands against the urge to reach for David. He didn’t realize how much they’d touched each other while they worked—a pat here, a caress there. Secret smiles and promises.

“All night I expected the deacon to show up. For the townsfolk to come and pronounce my sins.” A ghost of a humorless smile flitted over David’s face. “I suppose they still might appear any minute.”

“Me too. I kept waiting for the ax to fall.” Isaac shuddered. “I prayed most of the night that Mervin will keep his promise. I know I shouldn’t pray to God to help keep our sin a secret, but…”

“But what else are we to do now?”

Isaac rubbed his bleary eyes. “We were careless, David.”

“
I
was careless.” He shook his head. “How could I not lock the door? I hate myself.”

Isaac reached his hand out instinctively, and then let it fall. “No, David. It was both of us. Mervin would have heard me anyway. When we’re together, I have no shame, and we’ve been reckless too many times. We both know we shouldn’t…we
can’t
. This isn’t…” The ache in his chest made it hard to breathe.

“Every morning I’ve woken up terrified that you’ll have come to your senses. That I’ll lose you.” David swallowed thickly. “But I never really had you. We…if we’re discovered, we’ll lose everything.”

Isaac nodded miserably. “I can’t bear to think of it. What people would think. My parents—it would break their hearts. As long as we stay here…as long as we stay Amish, we can’t be together.”

The truth hung heavy in the air between them.

“Would you ever really leave?” David whispered.

He thought of Aaron, and never seeing his family again, and the hollowness was all consuming. “I don’t know if I can.”

“I can’t…I couldn’t leave my family alone.” David squeezed his eyes shut. “But I’m so desperate to feel you again, Isaac. To be close to you. It hasn’t even been a day, and it’s already hell.”

David opened his eyes and began pacing, clutching a hammer in his hand. “Every time we go to church, and I listen to Bishop Yoder in the Obrote, telling us what a wise decision it is to be baptized, I want to run. I try to convince myself that he’s right—that these feelings I have for you are some childish rebellion. A rumspringa.”

Wincing, Isaac waited for him to say more.

“But aren’t I a man?” He gestured wildly with the hammer. “I’ve felt like I was different for as long as I can remember. I used to pray morning and night that the Lord would take these demons from me. But when I’m with you, it doesn’t feel evil. Does it?”

Isaac shook his head. “It feels good. Not just…not just touching you, and being touched. It feels good everywhere.”

David smiled softly. “When your father asked if I might take you on as an apprentice, I knew I should say no.”

“You didn’t want me here?” Isaac couldn’t help the foolish hurt that flickered through him.

“But I did, Isaac.” David stared beseechingly and went to close the distance between them before stopping in his tracks. He gazed at the hammer in his hand as if he wasn’t sure how it got there, and placed it on the table carefully. “I did. I wanted you here far too much. Ever since that day at the frolic. Do you remember?”

“The barn raising at the Kauffmans’?”

He nodded. “It was the first we’d ever really spoken. When Mary started going to the singings, she liked you right away. Whenever we were at church or a frolic, I’d watch you. At first it was to get a measure of you. To make sure my sister hadn’t set her sights on the wrong boy.” He took a deep breath and looked away.

“It’s all right,” Isaac said.

“Is it?” David asked, his eyes shining. “What kind of brother am I? But after a time, I kept looking at you because I couldn’t look away. You’d grown into a man—that was obvious. And there was something about you I had to see. Something that drew me back every time.”

Isaac was afraid to ask. “What was it? Could you…could you tell? That I was…different?”

“I don’t know.” David’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think so. But you were beautiful. Your smile. Your eyes. The way you laughed when Mervin told a dumb joke. I barely knew you, but I wanted you all the same.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I never thought it was possible, even for a second. Not until the barn raising. Up on that beam, when you lost your balance—my heart just about stopped. At first I grabbed you to keep you safe.”

“I knew you wouldn’t let me fall.” It was though Isaac could feel the heat of David’s grip even now.

“I couldn’t resist holding on for just a moment. And when you looked at me…” David rounded the table, stopping a foot away, his eyes going dark. “Then I knew. I felt something with you—saw something—I never had. It made me want to shout for joy and kiss you senseless. For the first time, I thought maybe I wasn’t alone here in Zebulon after all.”

They moved into each other’s arms, and Isaac wished he knew how something so wrong could feel so natural.

David’s voice was muffled in Isaac’s neck. “I knew I should say no when your father asked. I’d convinced myself it had all been in my head. But I was weak.”

“I’m glad.” Isaac held on even tighter. “I’m so glad.”

“Then I got to know you for real.” David lifted his head and brushed his knuckles over Isaac’s cheek. “I thought I wanted you before. I had no idea what desire really was.”

“Are you sorry?”

David smiled sadly. “I should be. But no.”

“I’ll never regret it.” Isaac took David’s face in his hands and kissed him. “Not any of it. We’ll find a way. There has to be a way. We can—”

They both heard the approaching voices in the same moment, Anna talking loudly. They leapt apart so quickly that Isaac tripped over his own feet and thudded onto his backside just as Mary and Anna swept into the barn, stamping snow from their boots and shaking their heads, white caps pinned in place.

“Oh!” Mary smiled uneasily, glancing from Isaac to her brother. “Isaac, are you all right?”