Gay Amish 03 - A Way Home (25 page)

“We told them,” Isaac said.

“Told them what?” Aaron’s eyes went wide. “Holy shit—you came out?”

They nodded, and for a moment Isaac held his breath, wondering if perhaps Aaron would be angry about the timing. But Aaron laughed joyfully as he rushed around the table and hauled them both into a hug. Isaac was afraid he’d start crying again as he relaxed against David and his brother.

“I’m so proud of you guys.” Aaron squeezed them tightly. “I know how hard that must have been.”

“It was, but…I can’t breathe,” Isaac muttered.

“Sorry!” Aaron let them go, still smiling.

Isaac laughed too, and he reached for David’s hand. “It was hard, but it was time.”

“I may not be religious anymore, but amen.” Aaron took a deep breath. “All right, I’ve got to get ready for the procedure. We need to get Nathan better, and then we can go home. Sound good?”

“Sounds great,” Isaac agreed.

David asked, “How long—”

Mother’s shriek echoed in the corridor, a breathy cry of “
Samuel
!”

With a shared glance, they all rushed out, and Isaac almost tripped over his own feet as he raced toward Nathan’s room. Inside, Nathan was gone, but Isaac’s father was kneeling on the floor with Mother hovering behind him.

Jen crouched in front of Father, her fingers pressed to his neck. She barked, “Aaron, help me get him into the chair. David, go to the nurses’ station and tell them we need to get him down to the ER, stat.”

As David whirled around, Danielle appeared. “Everything okay in here?”

Father tried to shake off Aaron and Jen. “I’m fine,” he wheezed.

Jen rattled off something medical to Danielle that Isaac didn’t understand, and Danielle picked up a phone to relay it. Aaron had a hold of their father, and was heaving him into a chair that Mother pushed forward. Isaac only stood there, useless. David reached for him, but Isaac sidestepped. He’d told his parents the truth, and now Father looked as if his head was going to explode. His face was beet red and he gasped for air.
Did I do this?

“Stop!” Father bellowed, sounding stronger. “It’s nothing. Let me up. I was simply dizzy for a moment.”

“Yes, it’s likely just stress, but you need to let the doctors run some tests to be sure.” Jen held Father’s shoulders firmly when he tried to stand. “Just relax and breathe.”

An orderly arrived with a wheelchair, and Father shook his head vigorously. “I am perfectly fine,” he gritted out.

“Samuel, let them do their tests.” Mother pressed her lips together. “Please.”

He sat motionless for a few moments, and then with a weary sigh, he moved into the wheelchair. Danielle pushed him out, shooting Isaac a sympathetic smile on her way past. His hands trembling, Isaac stepped toward Mother. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s not your fault, Isaac,” Aaron assured him.

Jen squeezed Isaac’s shoulder. “Of course not. It’s been a stressful time. Mrs. Byler, you look as though you could use a rest too. Or some coffee, at least.”

Mother shook her head. “I need to be here when Nathan gets back from his test.” She pulled the chair next to the bed and dropped into it wearily. “But I will sit.” She met Jen’s gaze. “Thank you for your help.”

Dr. Tyler and someone Isaac assumed was Dr. Beharry strode in. Dr. Tyler took in the scene with a raised eyebrow. “Everything all right here? Aaron, we’re ready for you.”

“Coming. Mom…” Aaron looked at her, but she kept her gaze on the rumpled sheets of Nathan’s empty bed. “It’s going to be all right.” He went to her and knelt by her feet. “Please look at me. I want to help you. Mom…” Aaron gently touched her arm.

But she didn’t waver, keeping her gaze distant and her hands clenched in her lap. His face crumpling, Aaron pushed to his feet and left with the doctors. Isaac’s heart sank, and he couldn’t remember ever being more disappointed in his mother. It seemed that no matter what he said, and no matter how much turmoil she felt, she’d do everything to keep her mask in place.

Jen was halfway out the door when she stopped and strode back in. “Mrs. Byler, I know this has been a trying time. I know you’re scared, and tired, and that I’m probably the last person you want to talk to right now. Or possibly ever. But that’s your son that just walked out of here. Your son, who you raised, and who loves you, and who is in pain. I don’t mean physical pain, although that’s coming shortly. Do you know what it’s like donating stem cells with a local anesthetic? It’s pretty close to torture.”

Isaac and David shared a worried glance. Isaac hated to think of Aaron in pain. “Isn’t there another way that won’t hurt?” he asked.

“There’s no time. And Aaron doesn’t care. He’d hack off his arm with a rusty saw for his brother even though he barely knows Nathan. Because that’s the kind of man he is. Good, and kind, and loving. The kind of man
you
raised, Mrs. Byler. When we got married, he made sure we had a couple of spare rooms in our house in case one of his brothers or sisters ever needed to stay. And you may think that’s a bad thing because everyone should stay Amish, but Aaron never tried to entice any of your other children to join him.”

“That’s true.” Isaac’s voice sounded distant to his own ears. “He never did. I found him. He didn’t find me.” Mother flinched at this, but said nothing.

“Aaron’s the best person I’ve ever known, and I thank God every day that I didn’t let our differences keep us apart. And I hate seeing him hurt. I hate it so much. I know you must too, Mrs. Byler. You must hate seeing any of your children suffering. So I hope the next time Aaron talks to you, you can at least
look
at him. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.” With that, she spun on her heel and was gone.

Part of Isaac wanted to follow Jen and leave his mother to her misery. Turn his back on her the way she did Aaron.

But she was still his mother.

Despite everything, he still had to try to get through to her. His throat was so dry he wasn’t sure he’d be able to talk, but he got the words out. “Can I stay here with you for a little while?”

Mother didn’t meet his gaze, but she nodded once, a jerk of her head.

David backed toward the door. “I’ll just…” He smiled encouragingly at Isaac and disappeared.

Isaac wanted to call after him and ask him to stay, but seeing them together now would be too much for his mother. As much as it hurt, he knew the truth about their relationship was an enormous shock to her. Tentatively, he took the chair across the bed and watched as she straightened the sheets and made the bed with efficient movements, tucking and tightening the blankets even though Nathan would be back soon from his X-ray or MRI or whatever machine they were using to poke and prod him today.

The silence was a heavy cloak over them, and Isaac’s knee bounced as he jiggled his leg. He reached into his pocket, but realized he’d tucked the knife safely in his suitcase. He wanted to say everything and nothing at all. His stomach churned as he thought of Father.
What if he has a heart attack because of me? What if he dies? What if—

“Do you still pray?”

Mother’s voice was so low Isaac almost didn’t hear the question. He stopped fidgeting and clasped his hands in his lap. He didn’t pray nearly as much as he should, but he was able to honestly say, “Yes.”

“Will you pray with me?”

Isaac wanted to leap across the bed and hold her tight and beg her to still love him. “Yes, Mother. Always.”

She bowed her head, and although her prayer was silent, Isaac could well imagine her plea to God. He bowed his head and made his own.

#

Aaron whimpered, and Isaac wished he could do more than murmur sympathetic things and give him water. Across the bed, Jen squeezed Aaron’s hand.

“The painkillers will kick in soon, babe. You were a rock star in there today.”

Aaron tried to laugh. “Thanks.” His voice was hoarse. “Not gonna lie—getting stem cells drilled out of your hips doesn’t tickle.”

Beside Isaac, David cleared his throat. “I thought they were giving you something so you wouldn’t feel it?”

Jen answered, “He was frozen from the waist down during the harvesting, but it’s sore as hell as the anesthetic fades.” She brushed back his hair tenderly.

“Feels like an MMA fighter was using my lower back as a punching bag.” Aaron shifted gingerly in the bed. “Are you sure Dad’s okay?”

“Uh-huh.” Isaac fiddled with the edge of the sheet hanging over the side of the bed. “They said he passed all the tests. I guess he just freaked out because of me.”

“It’s not your fault.” Jen gave him a stern look. “You didn’t do anything wrong. In fact, I think you did a very brave thing.” She kissed Aaron’s hand. “The Byler brothers knocked it out of the park today. As sucky as it is for your parents, the truth will set you free.”

Isaac had heard someone else say that on a TV show or in a movie, but he couldn’t remember which one. David nudged his knee with his own, and Isaac pressed back against him. “I hope so.”

“You guys should go have dinner, or at least a late lunch,” Aaron said. “I’m fine.”

But the three of them shook their heads. The thought of eating made Isaac want to throw up.

Dr. Beharry knocked on the half-open door as he came in. His teeth were very white as he smiled, and his accent had a sing-song quality that Isaac liked to hear. “How are you feeling, Aaron?” His dark hair was streaked with gray at the temples, and Isaac tried to think of the word Jen had used to describe it.
Distinguished.

“Great.” Aaron’s smile was more of a wince. “Well, I’ve been better.”

Dr. Beharry chuckled. “No need to put on a brave face. Harvesting is rarely easy, and certainly not under these rushed circumstances.” He glanced at the chart in his hand. “Aaron, we think it’s best for you to stay in overnight.”

Frowning, Jen stood and reached for the clipboard. “How are his levels?”

“Not bad. Not the best.” Dr. Beharry gave her the chart, and they
hmm-ed
over it and spoke in big medical words.

“Anything I should know?” Aaron asked. He was clearly trying for a light tone, but didn’t quite make it as he grimaced.

“Nothing to worry your pretty little head over,” Jen answered. “You just need some good rest.” She smiled at Dr. Beharry. “Thank you again for bringing your team and equipment from Rochester. We’re so grateful. I know the Bylers are as well, even if they might not be so…effusive.”

“Of course, of course. This isn’t an ordinary case, so extraordinary measures are called for. Nathan is finishing his last round of chemo and radiation, and then we’ll give him Aaron’s cells.”

Isaac didn’t want to ask, but he had to. “Do you think he’ll live?” David reached for his hand, and Isaac took it gratefully.

“I’ll do everything in my power to help Nathan get better. And Aaron has given him a fighting chance.” He glanced behind as footsteps approached, and stepped aside as Father walked in. Dr. Beharry smiled. “I was just saying that Aaron has given Nathan a real chance at recovery. Now I’ll give you some privacy.” He pulled the door shut behind him.

Father wasn’t wearing his hat, and the lines on his face seemed deeper than usual. His gaze locked on Isaac and David holding hands, and David jumped to his feet. “I’ll just…June’s coming to take me to see my mother. I have my phone.”

“Okay.” Isaac could feel the weight of Father’s stare. “See you later tonight.” David edged around Isaac’s father, giving him as wide a berth as possible. Isaac wanted to call him back, but it would be selfish.

Jen cleared her throat. “How are you feeling, Mr. Byler?”

“Fine. Thank you. It was only stress. But I appreciate your help earlier. I apologize for my rudeness.”

“Apology accepted. But before you say more, your son’s been through an incredibly painful procedure, and he needs his rest. Not a haranguing.”

“Jen, it’s okay. I’m okay,” Aaron insisted.

“No you’re not. You’ve been through enough today.” She sighed. “I’ll go check on Nathan, but I won’t be long.” She bent and kissed Aaron. “Just remember you’re a rock star.”

When she was gone, Father stood at the foot of Aaron’s bed, and Isaac still perched on the edge of his chair. Father stroked his beard, and it was such a familiar gesture that Isaac had to swallow a sudden lump in his throat. He barely breathed as the silence stretched out. Aaron was pale, and with his hair mussed over his forehead, he looked younger and small in the bed.

“Are you in very much pain?” Father asked quietly. He kept his gaze on the foot of Aaron’s bed.

“I can handle it. It’s worth it to help Nathan.”

“We will need to discuss the cost. I—”

“Don’t worry about the money. I have good insurance. You’ll have more than enough medical bills to cover, even with Dr. Beharry helping pro bono.”

Father stood there with his arms at his sides, looking so much older than Isaac had ever seen him.

Aaron’s mouth tightened. “If you just came about the money, then you can go. Don’t worry about it. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got it covered.”

Father’s shoulders hitched as he took a jagged breath with his chin toward his chest. “But I do worry.”

Isaac and Aaron looked at each other, and then back at Father. Isaac wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. He was almost afraid to speak. “Father?”

Father raised his head, and Isaac’s breath caught. He and Aaron watched with wonder as an actual tear slipped down Father’s cheek. In all his years, Isaac had never seen his father cry. His pulse galloped.

“When one of our own is shunned, we are instructed to cut them out of our lives. Out of our hearts. I should not speak to you now, or ever until you have returned to the church to repent. I have tried to do my duty to the Lord. I have tried to obey the Ordnung’s edicts.”

Aaron briefly looked to Isaac with wide eyes. “I…I know. I know that’s the way they say it has to be.”

“I have tried to do what’s right, even when my heart grew unbearably heavy. All these years I’ve refused to say your name. You were my first-born son. How it has grieved me, my Aaron.”

Aaron burst into tears. “
Dad
.”

“You are a good man. A good brother.” Father’s lips trembled. “I can see that now.”