Gay Amish 03 - A Way Home (12 page)

“Then why don’t you try and convince them? If everyone else is going to hell, shouldn’t you try to save them?”

Mervin’s jaw set. “Only God can do that. Isn’t it arrogant for you to think otherwise?”

“But if this is the right way, why does someone have to be born to it? It’s just luck where we end up being born. But the Amish don’t take in outsiders. Hardly ever. So why isn’t everyone born Amish if it’s the way God wants us to be?”

“Listen to you with all these ideas in your head now. This is why we should stay away from the English. They make you question. It’s not right.”

“What’s wrong with questioning?”

“We have to have
faith
!” Mervin’s pale skin flushed. “I have faith that I’m living the way I should. The way God wants. That’s what matters.”

“What about me? Don’t I matter to you?”

Mervin swallowed thickly and picked up another twig. This one he closed in his fist. “Of course.”

“We’ve been best friends since we could talk. We were practically twins. After all these years, doesn’t it hurt you that we can’t see each other anymore?”

Mervin kept his head down, and he trembled.

“Because it hurts me.” Isaac’s eyes burned. “It hurts me so much that I won’t get to talk to you about Sadie and your kids, or see them playing in our tree house. And why? For what? Because I’m a bad person? A sinner? How is it right to lose so much just because I’m different?” Tears wet his cheeks. “I didn’t want to be different, Mervin. Is it right that I lose my family and my best friend because of it?”

Head still down, Mervin took a shaky breath, but didn’t say anything.

“Aaron didn’t want to be different either. He worked hard at changing. He joined the church and tried to be what they wanted him to be, but it broke him. It would have broken me too. And David. Living here made me ashamed of who I am. Of who I love. How can love be wrong?”

“Are you and he really still…” Mervin muttered.

Isaac didn’t hesitate. “Yes.

When Mervin lifted his head, his eyes glistened, and he gripped Isaac’s arm, suddenly impassioned. “Don’t you think if you prayed hard enough, it would go away? If you married the right girl? Maybe Mary just wasn’t the one. Katie Lapp’s almost seventeen, and she’s so pretty. You’d like her, I know you would. It’s not too late. It’s never too late. If you’d just
try
.”

“I tried my whole life, Mervin,” Isaac replied quietly. “I tried so hard. But I was always different. I just didn’t know why until I met David. And before you say it, no. He didn’t do this to me. He didn’t change me, or twist me up. I’m the same as I always was. All he’s done is love me.”

Mervin’s shoulders sagged, and he released Isaac’s arm. “That’s the thing I can’t understand.” Mervin stared ahead.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re still you,” he whispered. “I know you.”

Isaac sucked in a breath, waiting for him to say more.

“You know it’s a sin, but I hear you talk about love, and I know you mean it. You really do don’t you? Love him?”

“With all my heart.”

“I just can’t see how. I’m trying, Isaac, but it’s like you’re telling me the sky is green. Even if you believe it, I still only see blue.”

“Thank you for trying. It means a lot to me.” They sat in silence for a few heartbeats before he got the courage to ask, “Why didn’t you tell on us?”

Mervin didn’t drop his gaze, and after a moment he simply said, “You’re still my best friend.”

Isaac swallowed roughly. “Thank you.” He wanted to reach out, but would Mervin push him away if he touched him? “You know you’re mine too.”

Mervin nodded with a jerk of his head and toyed with the brim of his hat. After a few moments of silence he asked, “How is he? Nathan.”

Isaac fought down a wave of nausea. “Not good.” He spoke the words he couldn’t say to his parents. “I think he might die. It doesn’t seem possible. My little brother. He’s just starting to grow up. Getting pimples and finishing school soon. He’s barely lived. It’s not fair.”

“I know. I pray for him every day.”

“Thank you.”

After a few beats of silence, Mervin pushed himself to his feet. “I should get back.” He brushed off the seat of his pants, swiping his sleeve over his eyes and slapping on his hat. “Lots of work to do, and dinner’s soon.”

“Right. Of course. I understand.” Mervin was already starting down the ladder, and Isaac felt frozen sitting there. There was so much more he felt like he should say, but maybe they’d said enough.

Hands tight on the worn wooden rungs, Mervin stopped and glanced up beneath his hat brim. “You know, I still collect the mail every day.” Then he disappeared from sight down the ladder.

Hope bloomed in Isaac, and he wanted to say that he’d write, but Mervin was already gone. He choked down a sob as he listened to Mervin’s footsteps fade away through the sodden brush. He remembered the last time he’d been in this tree house, sneaking away and watching the train while David made him come and feel so good. The two of them in their own secret world. Now they didn’t have to hide. Not out in the world, anyway. Not in the place where they’d make a home together.

Picking up a dead branch, Isaac gazed at the distant tracks. He knew he should get back, but he needed a little time alone—and maybe a train would pass by soon. He swung his legs a little in the air. With sure strokes, he put his knife to the oak and waited for the whistle.

David knocked softly at Eli Helmuth’s house. He flattened his hair, still feeling naked without his hat. There were a flurry of footsteps inside, and Sarah yanked open the door.

“David!” She straightened her black cap over her dark hair, and shouted to their mother in German that David had returned. He winced at her choice of words, but plastered on a smile when Mother appeared, leaning on her cane. She scrutinized him, and he shifted from foot to foot.

“I just thought I’d see if you needed any help around the place. I know Eli must have a lot to do on his own.”

“The boys next door come by after school.”

“Oh.” David’s heart sank. Was he really not welcome now?

Mother clucked her tongue. “Well, if you’re going to be here, you should look proper.”

As relief rushed through him, David nodded. “Do you still have my things?”

Hurt flickered over her face. “Of course. Your trunk’s in Anna’s room. Change into fresh clothes and get your hat.” She turned and shuffled back to the kitchen.

“I’ll show you!” Sarah waited while David took off his old boots, and then led him upstairs. “I’ll be eight soon.”

He smiled at the random thought. “I remember. A big girl now, hmm?”

“Yep. I can carry a whole bucket of water from the well myself.”

“Can you? You are a big girl.” David thought of eight-year-old English girls, with their dolls and videogames and cartoons on TV. Sarah seemed so much more innocent.

It was almost eerie how similar Eli’s house was to the one they’d lived in. Like he was right back at home, but not quite. He followed Sarah into one of the bedrooms. Even though it was Anna’s, it looked the same as any Amish girl’s room: a quilt on the bed, and simple wooden furniture. No decorations on the walls, or knickknacks cluttering the surfaces. David smiled to himself and wondered where she hid all her forbidden magazines and books. His old trunk was in the corner, and he ran his hand over the familiar grooves in the battered wood as he knelt.

Inside, his hats sat on top of neatly folded clothing. His black felt hat was sturdy as ever, and he glanced at Sarah sitting on the bed and watching him avidly. “Do you think it’ll fit over my horns?” He winked.

She blushed and giggled. “I’m glad you didn’t grow horns out in the world.”

“Me too. I think it would be very uncomfortable for sleeping. Probably go through a lot of pillows with horns on my head.”

“Are you…” She trailed off.

“What?” David reached out to tickle her dangling feet. “You can ask me anything. Don’t be shy now.”

Sarah bit her lip. “Are you really the same? You seem like it.”

Am I the same?
It seemed like a lifetime ago that he’d lived in Zebulon. “I am. But I’m different too. I’ve experienced a lot of new things. But I’m still your brother.”

“You don’t seem like the English boys who shout things from their pickup trucks when we’re walking home from school.”

He frowned. “When did that start?”

She shrugged. “A while ago. They don’t do anything. They just say things we don’t really understand.” Sarah dropped her voice. “But they don’t sound like very nice things.”

David clenched his jaw. The thought of anyone harassing his baby sisters made his blood run hot. “Have you told Mother?”

“Uh-huh. She said to ignore them, and they’ll go away.”

Of course that was their response. He huffed out a breath. Turning the other cheek was well and good, but he still wanted to find these boys and…
and what? Punch their faces?
He wasn’t sure. Was he becoming violent? Maybe he was. All he knew was that if he caught someone yelling nasty things to his sisters, he wouldn’t be able to simply ignore it.

“I’m sorry. Did I make you mad?” Sarah watched him with big eyes.

“No, no. Not you.” David came and sat beside her on the bed. “I just don’t want anyone bothering you. Next time tell Eli and see what he says, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Do you like Eli?”

She nodded. “He’s nice. He lets me pack his pipe for him.”

David smiled. “I used to do that for Father sometimes. A long time ago.” Memories flickered through his mind, returning as always to that day in the fields.
Father collapsing, and David running as fast as he could, but not fast enough. Riding Kaffi through the trees to June’s, and the sirens as the ambulance came too late.

“I don’t remember Father,” Sarah whispered. “Is that bad?”

David put his arm around her tiny shoulders. “No. That’s not bad.” He wanted to keep her close and safe, even though he knew he couldn’t. He’d leave again soon, and when would he ever see Sarah and his sisters again?

“When I was littler, I thought you were my father. Mary explained one day, but you still did the things fathers do. I remember when I twisted my ankle running after a squirrel. And I was so far away from the barn, but I called for you as loud as I could, and you came. I knew you would.” She leaned her head against David’s shoulder.

His chest burned, and he choked down the guilt. “I always will. I know I’ll be too far away to hear you shout, but if you ever need anything, you can call me. I’ll give my telephone number, and you can hide it away. And if you need me, find a way. You can always go to June’s. You remember her?”

“Uh-huh. But Mother says she’s a bad lady.”

“I know. But she’s not. She’s my friend. And she’d be your friend too. I know this all…you’re too young, and I shouldn’t be saying this.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “But I want you to know I’ll always come for you. No matter how far away I am. Okay?”

She choked on tears. “But why do you have to be far away? Why can’t you stay here?”

“I just can’t. Isaac and I can’t stay. We have to live somewhere else.”

“But
why
? If you and Isaac want to live somewhere else together, why can’t you do it here?”

He knew she didn’t mean living together as lovers—that was a concept far beyond her grasp. “I wish I could.” But did he, or was that a lie? As Sarah sniffled against his shoulder, thoughts tumbled through his mind.

Would I really come back if I could?

He tried to imagine a Zebulon where he and Isaac could live together in their own house. Sleep in each other’s arms in their own bed under a quilt one of their mothers had made for them. They’d take turns cooking eggs and porridge for breakfast, and he’d master Mary’s sugar cookies and the shoofly pie Isaac loved. At sunrise they’d walk together down to the barn past the chicken coop and a pasture where Kaffi and another horse—maybe Silver—would graze and whinny.

In the barn they’d craft bed frames and dressers and cribs for new neighbor babies, and they’d talk about nothing in particular while they sawed and sanded, laughing sometimes and stealing kisses. At the end of the work day they’d shower together with David’s secret contraption, and they’d walk back to their house barefoot, the grass still warm even as the sun disappeared. Dinner wouldn’t be waiting, but they’d make do. Their families would visit, and every other Sunday they’d go to church with everyone they knew.

And maybe someday they’d build a crib of their own.

Sarah sobbed, and David rubbed her trembling back. She climbed onto his lap, burying her face in his chest. “It’s all right. It’ll be all right,” he murmured.

Of course he knew his fantasy was just that. They would have no Amish customers, and would be shunned and banned from church and every neighbor’s home. Their siblings would be forbidden from visiting, and their parents would only come to them to plead for repentance.

Yet even if he and Isaac could live openly in Zebulon, in his mind David was already making changes to his fantasy. He’d want to make pieces for English clients as well. He loved the freedom of creating different shapes and sizes, and not caring what the Ordnung decreed. And he’d have the website June had helped him make so he could make furniture for people far and wide. He loved the satisfaction of knowing his work had a place in hundreds of homes all over the country.

They’d need a toaster and a fridge, and a microwave would be nice too. Aaron could teach them to make spaghetti sauce, and they’d freeze batches of it for when they didn’t feel like cooking something fresh. And of course Aaron and Jen would have to visit often. They’d all watch a movie after dinner, and Jen would make sarcastic comments while Aaron rubbed her feet. Unlike in Zebulon, they’d always be welcome, just as they’d made David and Isaac a place in their home.

He rocked Sarah and imagined that life. A life that could really be. A life without endless rules and sermons. The stillness and easy calm as he worked, but near enough to the city that it would be easy to visit. Closing his eyes, he could imagine he was in a new barn with a horse grazing just outside, the sawdust dancing in the air as he cut into a fresh beam of wood. Isaac would come home from school or work and would pick up a hammer, giving him a smile and kiss for no reason.