Gay Amish 03 - A Way Home (11 page)

John’s house had been built a few hundred yards from his parents’ home, and as Isaac approached, memories rolled through his mind. He and Mervin with muddy knees being scolded by Mrs. Miller, who still gave them sugar cookies even though they always ran and never walked.

Isaac stopped in his tracks, the fear gnawing at him outweighing the urge to see his best friend again. Mervin was probably still out in the fields anyway, and maybe that was best. He scuffed his shoe in the dirt, feeling curious eyes on him, but seeing no one. His face flushed, and he realized he looked like an idiot just standing there. He had to stay or go. Just turn around and—

“Isaac Byler.” Jacob Miller’s voice rang out from the direction of the barn. He strode over, wiping his hands on an old cloth. Isaac forced his feet to move and meet Jacob. They stopped a few feet from each other. Beneath his black hat, Jacob had Mervin’s fine reddish hair, but he was taller and leaner.

Isaac extended his hand. “Hello, Jacob.”

After a heartbeat, Jacob took it, squeezing hard. “Isaac. What do you want?” Jacob exhaled through his nose. “I mean…what brings you here? We heard you were back, but Mervin didn’t seem to think you’d come by.”

It shouldn’t have hurt, but his stomach clenched like he’d been kicked by a mule. “I…oh. I can leave if you want. I just wanted to see how you all are.”
I wanted to see if my best friend hates me.

“We’re fine. Working hard and living by God’s word, as it should be.”

“How are Ruth and Atlee?” The last time he’d been here, it had been their wedding day.

“Well. The new baby is due soon.”

“Good. That’s…good.” Jacob was only a couple years older than Mervin, and they’d all played together countless times when they were boys. But now Isaac had no idea what to say.

After a few moments of silence, Jacob said, “Mervin won’t be back for a while.”

“Right. I’ll go.” Isaac took a step back.

“I drive Mary home from the singings now,” Jacob blurted. “It will be the third time on Sunday.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Jacob’s eyes flashed. “I’ll be a good husband to her. I think she was just starting to warm up to the idea, and now…” His cheeks flushed. “Did you change your mind?”

“No. No! Jacob, I don’t want Mary.” He felt stupidly guilty as the words left his mouth. “It’s not that she isn’t a good woman. She is. Any man would be lucky to take her as a wife.”
Any man but me.
“I’m not trying to get her back. I never had her in the first place. I swear.”

Jacob eyed him warily. “You mean that?”

“Yes. I won’t try to get between you.”

With a sigh, Jacob nodded. “Okay. Are you back for good? Or just for Nathan?”

“Just for Nathan.”

“I never would have thought you’d go over the fence.” A smile ghosted over his lips. “You never liked to break the rules. It was Mervin who got you in trouble. Or me.”

Isaac smiled back. “I never would have thought it either.”

“You can wait for Mervin if you want. I’m sure the girls have cake and coffee.”

“I don’t want to be a bother.” And he shuddered at the thought of making more awkward small talk with the various Miller family members. “Actually, I think I’ll go to the tree house. If that’s all right?”

Jacob nodded. “When Mervin gets back, I’ll tell him.”

“Thank you. It’s good to see you, Jacob.” He extended his hand again. “And I really am happy for you and Mary. I hope it works out.”

Jacob squeezed his palm, not unkindly this time. “It will. She’s the girl for me.” He tipped his hat as he returned to the barn.

The path to the tree house was over a small hill and into the trees that surrounded the Millers’ farm. His boots sank into the damp earth in places, and he skipped over the sinkholes of sodden and dead leaves amid the tree roots. So many times he and Mervin had raced through the forest, and he smiled softly to himself as he thought of Mervin’s freckles showing up darker on his red cheeks.

The tree house stood sentinel near the edge of the woods, a fallow pasture beyond that was home to the railroad tracks that skirted Zebulon. He tested his weight on the bottom rung of the old ladder, and it held him as he clambered up. “Made to last,” he murmured.

It had been the first real thing Isaac had built. He and Mervin hadn’t added a roof, preferring the open air in the treetop. New buds sprouted on the thick branches overhead, and soon there would be a roof of rustling leaves. He tested the floorboards, finding a few places that would need fixing. It could do with a fresh coat of varnish as well. They’d left the front open, and he ran his fingers over the three short walls that enclosed the loft. On the back were the words he’d carved so many years ago.

Property of Mervin Miller and Isaac Byler—NO TRESPASSING ALLOWED

Isaac took out his pocketknife now and retraced the fading letters, placing his hat on the floor so he could lean in close. Fixing up the sign was silly thing to do, but it relaxed him to kneel down and carve the old wood. He really had missed carpentry the past few months. It was so easy to get swept up in new things in the city—school, and friends, and every kind of food he’d never known existed. He’d lost sight of the simple things. The give of wood as he put his blade to it, and the soothing peace it brought. When he and David went home, Isaac was going to make sure he worked with David at least twice a week.

He sat back on his heels, looking at the freshly carved message. Isaac reached into his pocket for his phone before he remembered he didn’t have it. He would have loved to take a picture, but supposed his memory would have to do. He slipped the knife back into his pocket.

“Isaac?”

With the damp spring ground, he hadn’t heard Mervin’s approach. Isaac hurried to his feet, brushing off his knees. He peered over the ladder to find Mervin at the bottom looking up beneath the brim of his hat, his head tipped back. Isaac waved awkwardly.

Mervin’s voice was flat. “You’re really here.”

“Um…yeah. Do you want me to go?” Isaac held his breath.

For a terrible moment, Mervin said nothing. Then he shook his head and started climbing, and Isaac moved back to let him up. When he reached the top, they stared at each other.

“Why did you come?”

“My brother—”

“I mean why did you come to see me?” Mervin’s hands were stuffed in his pockets, and his shoulders hunched.

Because you were my best friend my whole life.
“I thought we could…I dunno. Catch up,” he finished lamely. His gaze returned to the carved sign. “Remember when we built this?”

“Uh-huh.”

Isaac ran his hand over a wall. “We were out here every spare minute that summer. Remember that one time I practically missed dinner because we were finishing the floor? I was so afraid they’d say I had to stay home even after all my chores were done. But they didn’t. Father even bought us the extra wood we needed after we used up all the scraps we’d found.”

“It was nice of him,” Mervin said stiffly.

Isaac sighed. He and Mervin had once been able to spend hours together without hardly saying a word. Now the seconds ticked by, and every breath felt too loud. He knew it would be best to leave, but he felt in his gut that he’d be losing an opportunity that would never come again.

Instead, he sat down on the open side of the tree house, dangling his legs over the side. He stared at the slash of metal tracks in the distance. “You never minded waiting for the train.”

Behind him, the boards creaked. Mervin asked, “What?”

“Even after the other boys got bored, you never minded waiting with me for the chance to see a train. Sometimes it didn’t even come, but you didn’t get mad at wasting our time.” There was another creak, and Isaac held his breath as Mervin settled down beside him.

Mervin kicked at the air with one foot. “That’s because you didn’t mind listening to me talk. Everyone else said I rambled on too much. Not you though.”

“You were always a good talker. Why would I mind?” Isaac picked up a damp leaf and rolled it between his fingers. His mouth was too dry. “You could talk now.”

“About what?”

“Everything. Are you still driving Sadie home from the singings?”

“Yep. Sadie and I are going steady. This fall we’ll publish and get married after harvest.”

“Really? That’s awesome!” Isaac grinned.

Mervin grinned back, and for a wonderful moment, nothing had changed. “She’s a great girl. She’s so pretty, and she lets me kiss her sometimes. And she doesn’t mind when I talk too much.”

“Sounds like she’s the girl for you.”

Mervin’s tone went wistful. “We might build a place next to my parents and John. Our kids can all play together. Maybe I’ll fix up this tree house for them. John’s little ones are almost old enough. It would be nice to have kids playing here again.”

“It would.” Isaac’s smile faltered, and his eyes burned. He focused on the distant tracks, trying to get ahold of himself.
Will David and I ever have kids?
In that moment, thinking of the distant summer days and the days still to come, he wanted children more than he’d ever thought possible.

Isaac knew even if he and David could have kids they weren’t ready for them yet, but there was a hard pressure in his chest. He could see Mervin’s future so clearly. It was so very solid that he could practically hear the shrieks of laughter as the Miller children played together here on their land—their corner of the world.

Growing up he’d just assumed that of course he’d have children one day. It was the way of things. But now… He knew some gay people had kids. He’d watched a program on TV about a…he tried to remember the word.
Surrogate.
And some people adopted. But it all seemed so complicated and far in the future.

Mervin tossed a twig over the side as if he were skipping stones in a pond. “We had some fun times out here, didn’t we?”

“We did.” He nodded to the pasture and tracks in the distance. “Still a nice view. I used to dream of taking one of those trains to the ocean.”

Mervin shook his head. “I never thought you’d really do it, though.”

“Me either.” Isaac smiled. “I’ve been in the ocean now.”

“Yeah?” Mervin glanced over, a tentative smile on his lips. “How was it?”

“Freezing.” Isaac laughed, and then shivered as he remembered David’s terror, and how long it had taken to get warm again. “This summer I want to go down the coast to where the water’s warmer.”

“This summer, huh? So you’re leaving again?”

“You know I have to. You know I can’t stay.”

“But it still…I still want you to.”

“Mervin…” His throat tightened.

Tossing another stick, Mervin asked, “Do you watch movies and all that stuff?”

“Uh-huh.” Isaac smiled, grateful for the change of subject. “There are huge movie theaters where the sound is so loud, and the screen so tall. They even have chairs that move. So when something blows up, you shake.”

Mervin looked over, his pale eyebrows disappearing beneath the brim of his hat. “Really?”

“It’s pretty cool.”

“I bet. But I got rid of the Touch Leroy sent me. It was fun for a little while, but I realized I don’t need movies or music. It held something like a thousand songs, and I thought, Who needs a thousand songs? How would you ever choose? I’d waste half the day with all those extra things if I were English.”

“There are a lot more choices, it’s true.”

“This way, I know what’s what.” Mervin shrugged. “I know exactly who I am and what I’ll do.” He was silent for a moment. “Don’t you want a family one day? Kids?”

“I pray I will.”

Mervin took off his hat and ran a hand through his red-blonde hair. It was longer now, going over his ears. “Do you really still pray?”

“Yes. Probably not as much as I should. But yes.”

“That’s good to hear. Maybe it’s not too late.”

“I think I can still believe in God without being Amish.”

Mervin sighed. “But you know it isn’t the right way.”

“How do I know that?” Before Mervin could speak, Isaac answered for him. “Because the Ordnung says so. Because the bishop and preachers and our parents say so. But don’t you wonder, Mervin?”

His forehead creased. “Wonder what?”

“Wonder if this is truly what God wants? Us living separate from the rest of the world? Hiding away and pretending it’s still a hundred and fifty years ago? Why is that a better way? It separates us from other people. From people who love us, like Aaron. Is that what God wants? For us to shun people we love because they want a different life? How is that right?”

“I don’t know. It just is. We have to have faith, Isaac. All that freedom in the world, what good is it? They have wars and do terrible things. I don’t want any part of that. I want to have a family and have peace. We have to believe, and put our trust in the Lord, and our community. And in the end we’ll be rewarded for living plain, and not giving in to temptation.”

“But all the rules—they want to control you.”

Mervin shrugged. “Yeah but the rules make things easier. There are so many things I don’t have to worry about. Last week I went to the buggy maker down in Polk County, and it was easy. I gave him the specifications from the Ordnung, and that was that. I didn’t have to give it another thought.”

“But that’s all stuff that doesn’t really matter. Why is it important how tall your buggy is? Why would it be sinful to use the traffic reflectors so there are fewer accidents? They’re meant to protect people. How is that prideful? David’s mother and sister could have died. They almost did. Why is it wrong to have lights on buggies?”

“It just is.” Mervin huffed. “Why do you care now what we do anyway? You’re not staying.”

“Why wouldn’t I care? Isn’t it selfish if I don’t? Aren’t you selfish if you don’t care about other people in the world? There are millions of people out there. Billions, even. Shouldn’t you want to help them? Don’t they matter too? How does it serve God to stay isolated? What about the rest of the world? There are good people there. I know there are.”

“They choose to live that way, Isaac. All that noise and pride. It distracts from the simple joys of life. Here, our minds are clear. Focused. We can serve the Lord so much better.”