Gay Amish 03 - A Way Home (21 page)

He nodded, and told her a little more about his mother. June left before the Bylers arrived, and David found himself alone with Nathan, Danielle off seeing other patients. Nathan seemed to be enjoying the puzzles, but put down his pencil and peered at David intently. David resisted the urge to squirm. He cleared his throat. “Do you need anything?”

Nathan shook his head. After another few moments, he said, “Aaron seems nice.”

“He is. He’s been so wonderful to me and Isaac. His wife too. Her name’s Jen. She’s a doctor and she works in a hospital like this. Well, bigger than this one.”

Nathan’s brow furrowed. “How can she be a doctor? Who cooks?”

“Aaron does, or they go to restaurants. There are restaurants that deliver too. You call them on the phone or even order on the internet, and a man brings the food to your door.”

“What kind of food?”

“Any kind.”

Nathan seemed to ponder this. He tentatively chewed a tiny piece of fudge and offered the tin to David. “I didn’t know a girl could be a doctor until I came here. Do they do other jobs too?”

“Uh-huh.” David bit into the fudge, which was creamy and sweet and tasted like real peanuts. “They do everything.”

“Huh. I can’t imagine that in Zebulon.”

David chuckled. “No. I can’t either.”

“It’s strange to think that I have a brother I don’t remember. I mean, I know my other sisters still live in Red Hills and I barely remember them, but…it’s different.”

“It is.” There were footsteps in the hall, and David’s heart skipped. What would the Bylers say about him talking to Nathan alone? But a couple of strangers went by, and he exhaled. Then he wondered what was keeping them, and tried not to worry.

“I guess Aaron will never go back to being Amish, will he? Not with a doctor wife.”

“No. He won’t. He’s a teacher, and he loves his job. He teaches math to kids like you.”

“A teacher?” Nathan frowned. “But women teach. So in the world men do their jobs too?”

“I guess they do. It’s pretty cool if you ask me.”

“What is?” Mrs. Byler strode into the room and stood on Nathan’s other side, her hand finding his shoulder.

“Oh, n—nothing,” David stammered as he jumped to his feet.

Mr. Byler and Isaac followed into the room, and Isaac smiled fleetingly at David before looking at Nathan. The corners of his mouth pulled down, and he seemed to sag a little as he took in his brother’s worsened condition.

“I was just…” David motioned to the puzzle book. “Teaching him how to play. It’s nothing bad.”

His face stony, Mr. Byler marched to the bed and picked up the Sudoku book. “What is this?”

“Just puzzles with numbers. You use a pencil, so it’s nothing forbidden.”

“We’ll be the judge of that.” Mr. Byler flipped through the pages. “Hmm.”

“I’ll let you…” David backed toward the door and almost bumped into Aaron.

Aaron smiled tightly and ignored his parents. “How are you feeling today, Nathan?”

Nathan glanced between his mother and father and shrugged. No one looked at each other, and the awkward tension made David nauseous. He wanted to catch Isaac’s gaze before he escaped, but then Dr. Tyler bustled into the room.

“Knock, knock. Oh, good. You’re all here. We’ve got good news from the lab this morning.” She smiled at Nathan. “Your brother’s a match for you.”

Mrs. Byler inhaled sharply. “Isaac can donate what Nathan needs?”

Dr. Tyler was still smiling. “No—your other son. Aaron.”

Aaron.

Isaac’s stomach swooped, and it felt as though all the air in the room had just been sucked out with a giant vacuum cleaner. Mother and Father stared at each other, having one of their mute conversations. With his hat in one hand, Isaac tapped his fingers against the folded knife in his pocket as the silence stretched out. Dr. Tyler frowned, the faint wrinkles around her eyes growing more pronounced.

Aaron squared his shoulders. His voice sounded too loud in the sudden hush. “Great. Let me know when we can get started.”

Isaac stole a glance at David, who smiled softly as their eyes locked. Isaac yearned to reach for his hand or feel David’s arm around him. He was dying to tell David that Ephraim had figured out the truth, and that he seemed…possibly okay with it? Isaac wasn’t sure. That morning they’d done the milking in mostly silence aside from talking about the pickup from the local dairy who bought the milk. But Ephraim had never been chatty before the sun was up. Isaac had wanted desperately to ask him what he was thinking, but hadn’t dared.

“This is good news.” Dr. Tyler’s frown deepened. “The best news we could hope for. Is there a problem I don’t know about?”

“Absolutely not,” Aaron answered. “I’m ready to do whatever it takes.”

Dr. Tyler looked at Isaac’s parents and then smiled at Nathan. “Kiddo, why don’t we leave so you can have a little nap. Come on, everyone. Too many people in here.”

Nathan’s eyes glistened with unshed tears, and Isaac squeezed his hand before he left. “It’s okay. It’s good news, like she said.”

Dr. Tyler ushered them out. “Let’s discuss this. Follow me.”

David hung back, nodding to Isaac. Isaac hurried to catch up with the incredibly fast Dr. Tyler, who could have been one of those speed walker people he’d seen on TV that Jen had laughed at merrily. Her white coat swirled behind her, and her shoes
tap-tap-tapped.
Aaron and their parents marched along behind her, and soon they were in a little windowless room with rectangular table surrounded by eight or so chairs.

“Please sit.” Dr. Tyler took the chair at the head of the table.

Father sat opposite her with Mother to his right, and Aaron took one of the seats on the left side of the table near the doctor. Isaac hesitated before sitting between Aaron and their father. Dr. Tyler folded her hands on the table. She wore no rings or makeup on her face, and her nails were unpolished. Aside from her short hair, Isaac could almost have imagined her as an Amish woman. He wondered what his parents thought about a female doctor.

“All right. What’s the issue?”

“There isn’t one. If I’m a match, I’ll gladly give my bone marrow to Nathan.” Aaron’s hands were fisted.

“You’re definitely a match. You understand that the procedure to harvest the cells can be extremely painful?”

Aaron didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I’ll do it.”

“Good. However, I’m sensing some tension here, to say the least. Mr. and Mrs. Byler, is there something I don’t know? When we discussed a transplant you indicated there were no religious objections. Dr. Beharry and his team will be here in the morning, and he and I agree Nathan’s best hope is his brother’s stem cells. You can see for yourselves how weak he’s becoming. We’re treating him aggressively because the cancer is attacking aggressively. A bone marrow transplant could give him the ammunition he needs to fight this. Frankly, it’s his only hope of survival.”

Isaac looked between his parents as they had another silent discussion. He couldn’t believe they’d hesitate for even a moment. Bile rose in his throat, and he wanted to scream and shout. Forget the church and its rules. This was Nathan’s life.

Father cleared his throat. “The problem is that our son was excommunicated. He has been cast out until he repents his sins and yields to the Lord. We can accept nothing from him.”

“Don’t tell me you’re even considering letting Nathan die to spite me!” Aaron’s cheeks were red, and his nostrils flared. “Jesus Christ, this is ridiculous! Shun me all you want, but don’t punish Nathan.”

Father didn’t so much as glance at Aaron as he addressed the doctor. “We must consult our bishop and preachers for their guidance on this matter before we make a decision.”

Dr. Tyler sighed. “I strongly urge you to act quickly and to allow the transplant. Nathan is deteriorating. We need a decision by morning at the latest.”

As she talked about test results and medical things Isaac didn’t really understand, his mind buzzed. Here was the thing they’d hoped for, and because it was Aaron their parents were suddenly hesitating. It was the only thing that could save Nathan. Surely God wouldn’t deny him that chance? Isaac jiggled his foot under the table, biting his lip from spewing out all the words he wanted to say.

“Aaron, we should get started on some shots for you to boost your white blood cell count,” she said. “Dr. Beharry is sending a new formula via courier. Usually we’d give you the white cell boosters for up to a week before donation, but we simply don’t have the time to spare. Fortunately they’ve developed this express formula and had good results. I can explain it all in more detail.”

“Whatever it takes.” Aaron vibrated with tension. “I just want to help my brother.”

“We’ll return to Zebulon and speak to Bishop Yoder.” Father pushed back his chair and picked up his hat. “Thank you, Doctor Tyler.”

That was that, and Isaac had no choice but to follow, leaving Aaron behind with a last glance, and a wave to David in the hall. David started toward them, his brows drawn together, but Isaac shook his head.

They’d just gotten to the hospital, and the buggy ride home was an eternity. Isaac closed his eyes and rested his head on his knees, bumping along and praying the bishop would say yes.
Please, please, please. Let Nathan live, no matter what it takes.

They were turning onto their driveway when he realized where they were. “Why didn’t you go straight to Bishop Yoder’s?” he called.

Father reined in Roy by the house. “You can help your brothers with the work.”

Anger tore through him like a stray spark to hay, and Isaac jumped out of the buggy and marched around to the front where Mother and Father sat on the bench. “There’s no time! You shouldn’t even be asking the bishop!”

“
Isaac
.” Trembling, Mother pressed her lips together. “Please. Leave this to us.”

“He’s going to
die
!” Isaac’s throat felt raw already and it was almost a scream. He heard a whimper and whirled to find Katie outside the door, tears in her eyes. Ephraim and Joseph were running over from the barn. Isaac knew he should stop—that he had to get hold of himself, but the words flung out of his mouth like wooden pick-up sticks scattered across the floor. “You know it! We all know it! He’s
dying
. Aaron can save him.”

“You think we don’t know this?” Mother shuddered, her voice strained. “We know our son is dying. But we must stay true to our beliefs.” She glanced at Father. When he said nothing, she went on, her hands fisted in her lap. “Faith is how he’ll be saved. It has to be the way.”

Father still clutched the reins. “Isaac, you will not speak in this manner. You will show respect. We will ask Bishop Yoder what is the right way. It is what we must do for our boy.”

“Aaron’s still your son. Let him give Nathan what he needs to get better.”

“Aaron’s a match?” Ephraim asked. He wasn’t wearing his hat, and his sandy curls were wild after his sprint. “Why won’t you let him do it?”

“We didn’t say we won’t,” Father answered. “Just that we must consult the bishop first. We must ensure it’s the right thing in God’s eyes.”

“Forget about God!” As much as he loved God, in his heart he knew that He wouldn’t allow Nathan to die for the sake of a rule in the Ordnung. Only men would allow that, for rules were the dominion of men no matter how much they tried to say otherwise.

Mother gasped. “Isaac!”

Katie sobbed now, and Isaac wished he could fix it all. “If Nathan dies because Bishop Yoder won’t allow the transplant, I won’t blame God. God gave us this way to save him.”

Ephraim had an arm around both Joseph and Katie, holding them to his sides. “Isaac’s right.”

“You are children. We will determine right and wrong. You will obey. This is the way of things.” Father’s voice was surprisingly steady. “We will receive guidance from our leaders and make our choice.”

Isaac’s head was light, and his skin prickled hot all over. “I pray you’ll do everything on this earth to save Nathan. I pray you’ll choose him no matter what the bishop thinks. Aaron may not be Amish anymore, but I’m proud to call him my brother. I’ve tried to be a good son, and obey your wishes.” He glanced at his siblings. “I really have tried.”

Ephraim nodded. “We know.”

In that moment, Isaac knew it was truly over. He’d never come home again, and he never really had. He’d never sleep another night under his parents’ roof. He wouldn’t wake to that same square of glass peeking out at the world, or hear the distant train whistle, or feel the dewy grass under his feet. He wouldn’t smell rich bread baking or give Silver a sweet apple for her work as she rubbed her nose against him.

“I can’t stay here.” He ran a palm down his plain cotton shirt, knowing this was the last day he’d ever dress in these clothes.

“Isaac, please,” Mother begged. “Don’t turn away from us now. Don’t turn away from the Lord.”

“I’ll do everything I can to help. But I’m not Amish anymore. I never will be again.”

Father hung his head, and his shoulders hitched once before he was still. Mother breathed shallowly, her eyes shining, and Joseph was crying now along with Katie. Isaac longed to hold them all and make it better. He gazed helplessly at Ephraim, who blinked away the hint of tears.

“You can go.” Ephraim didn’t say it unkindly, or tersely, but with quiet acceptance. Maybe even blessing.

Isaac’s voice broke when he tried to speak. “Wh—” He cleared his throat and tried again. “What about the work?”

“We’ll manage. I promise.” Ephraim smiled now, looking more like a man than Isaac could ever remember. “You’ve done all you can. It’s enough.”

Isaac couldn’t swallow down his sob, and he closed the distance to his siblings and pulled them into his arms. “I love you all,” he choked out. “I always will.” They clung to him, Katie and Joseph’s little hands digging into his back.

Ephraim stepped back and met Isaac’s eyes. “Be happy.”

Turning to his parents, who still sat rigid and defeated in the buggy, Isaac wiped at his eyes. He could hardly breathe, and he sniffed loudly. Everything felt wet—his cheeks and throat and nose. “Aaron and I will still be at June’s. We’ll see you at the hospital. We want to help, and I hope you’ll let us. I hope you’ll let Aaron. He’s still your son. So am I. We love you, even if you can’t forgive us for leaving.”