Gay Amish 03 - A Way Home (19 page)

David shook his head. “If you’re here, so am I.”

Isaac knew it was selfish, but gratitude swelled up to fill all the corners of him. With a quick glance at the door, he squeezed David’s hand, wishing he could still hold it tight as they took their places for fried chicken and shoofly pie.

#

“When’s Nathan coming back?”

They all paused at Joseph’s question, spoons in midair or stuck into the thick beef stew Sarah Raber had brought over after the frolic. Isaac watched his parents across the table. Father had a piece of carrot stuck in his beard, and he fished it out before speaking.

“We don’t know. We pray he will be home with us soon.”

Isaac pulled his spoon through the stew. “Still no word on the test results?” When his parents had returned from the hospital in the early evening, they’d been subdued. Isaac had wanted to ask if they’d argued with Aaron, but had bit his tongue and only asked how Nathan had been feeling. The answer had been noncommittal and gruff, which meant
not good
.

“Should be tomorrow,” Mother said.

“Oh. Okay.” Isaac forced another bite.

“The frolic was good today,” Katie ventured in the ensuing silence. “Isaac and David really helped a lot with the new shed. I was watching.”

Beside him, Isaac could swear Ephraim tensed.
Is he suspicious? What did he see at the barn?
Isaac cast his mind back. David had hay stuck in his hat, and they’d surely both been flushed. He thought of how sometimes you can just tell things for no one reason in particular.
Could Ephraim tell?

Joseph swallowed a bite of beef. “Is there a way for English people to go to heaven?” He frowned. “Do some of them go? The good ones?”

“That is not our concern,” Mother said. “We wish them well, but they choose to live that way.”

Isaac thought of all the people he’d met in San Francisco. Jen and her family—Seventh Day Adventists who seemed to be good Christians. Would they not go to heaven? Or Lola and Chris and Derek, who had been so kind and taken him under their wing. He actually had no idea if they were religious or not. Or what about Mr. Silverstein, his favorite teacher? Was he going to hell for being Jewish? Isaac supposed he’d see them all there.

“What’s funny?” Katie asked.

Isaac realized he was smirking. “Nothing.” He shoved some food in his mouth. It strangely made him feel better to contemplate all the good people who didn’t meet the Amish measure. There was June too, and Danielle at the hospital. Aaron, of course, who didn’t believe there even was a heaven or hell, which still made Isaac’s belly churn with acid. The idea of hell scared him, but the thought of nothing terrified him even more.

“I miss Nathan.” Joseph pouted. “It’s not fair.”

“Sometimes God tests us in His own way,” Father murmured.

“Was he feeling sick for a long time?” Isaac asked before he could help himself. He shifted on the wooden bench, reaching into his pocket for the knife.

All eyes focused on him. Mother answered quietly, “Not enough to go to the doctor. We were going to take him to the chiropractor in Warren to see if there was something off.”

“But—” Isaac bit his lip.

Mother was rigid. “But what?”

“But when he started snoring all of a sudden, was that a clue? I should have known it wasn’t right.”

Mother’s face softened. “Oh, Isaac. There wasn’t anything you could have done. We’ve asked ourselves the same questions.”

“Sometimes the Lord has a plan we cannot understand,” Father said quietly. “It is not our place to question.”

It was strangely reassuring, and as they finished their meal in silence, it didn’t feel heavy.

While Katie and Mother cleaned, Isaac grabbed the bucket. “I’m going to have a bath tonight. Can you leave out the big pot?”

Katie’s brow creased. “But it’s not Saturday.”

“I know. But I got really dirty at the frolic.”
And I’m used to showering every day—not bathing only once a week.
It was strange to think of how used he’d become to the English ways.

Mother’s lips were tight, but she didn’t protest. Isaac hauled in bucket after bucket and heated the water on the stove in batches before pouring it into the old tub in the corner of the kitchen. Once Katie and Mother retired to the living room with the others to read quietly, Isaac slipped off his clothes and sank under the water.

His knees stuck out, and he leaned his head back against the battered metal. He wished he had his phone so he could check his texts and emails. He wondered if David had decided to spend the night at Eli Helmuth’s. He’d gone back with them for supper, and Isaac had watched them climb into the buggy, Mary keeping her eyes averted until the last moment, when she glanced back at Isaac with such longing.

He lathered up the homemade soap, which smelled like honey. He and David had lived in Zebulon with their secret for months, but now after being back only a few days Isaac was drained and weary. He loved seeing his family again, but what was the point if he couldn’t ever be himself? They’d never accept the truth.

When Isaac padded upstairs in his old nightshirt, skin still damp, he got to the top landing and realized he still had to go outside to use the creaky old outhouse before bed. He’d stayed in the bath until his fingers looked like prunes and the water wasn’t even warm, and now the house was still, with no lantern light escaping under the bedroom doors.

Isaac edged into his room and tossed his clothes on top of his trunk. He supposed the room and the trunk and the bed weren’t truly his anymore, but they had been for so long that he still knew his way around in the dark. Scooping up a fresh pair of socks, he sat on the side of his bed and unrolled them.

“David moved in with Aaron in the city too.”

Isaac pressed his hand to his chest as he inhaled sharply. He hadn’t realized Ephraim was awake, but now he could make out that his brother was on his back, staring at the ceiling. Beyond him, Joseph was fast asleep, mouth open and limbs splayed. Isaac laughed, but it was uneasy.

“You scared me.”

“Sorry.” Ephraim was silent for a few moments, and he kept his voice very low. “So, David lives there too. Right?”

“Uh-huh.” The hair on Isaac’s arms stood as gooseflesh shivered over him.

“Do you share a room?”

Now Isaac’s heart skipped and
boom-boom-boomed.
His mouth was dry. “Yes.” Ephraim was silent for so long that Isaac thought he might have fallen asleep after all. He held his breath, afraid to move.

“Do you share a bed?” Ephraim spoke barely above a whisper, but it sounded loud enough to wake the whole house.

Isaac’s pulse rushed in his ears, the pressure building in his head and chest. Should Isaac lie to his brother?
Could
he? It was like he’d swallowed sand. He craned his head to see Joseph on the other side of Ephraim to make sure he was still sleeping. “Maybe we should go downstairs. Or outside.”

Ephraim still spoke quietly, but waved his hand dismissively. “He could sleep through a stampede of cows. Especially after today.” After a few heartbeats, he repeated the question. “Do you and David sleep in the same bed?”

Isaac couldn’t lie, although part of him still wanted to desperately if it meant not losing his brother. He clutched the socks he was still holding and got the word out. “Yes.”

Ephraim took this in silently, breathing shallowly. “Are you like brothers?”

He felt like throwing up. “No.”

“Do you…with him? Do you do
that
?”

His face burned, and his whole head felt hot. “Yes,” Isaac managed, barely a whisper.

Ephraim gasped softly. “You really do? You and David are…you’re…”

“We’re gay.” Isaac took a shuddering breath.

Still staring at the ceiling, Ephraim was rigid beneath his quilt. “Gay,” he repeated. “Is that what they call it?”

“Yes,” Isaac croaked.

“Were you doing it with him before you ran away?”

“Yes.”

“But…”

“I know it’s hard to understand.” Isaac wished Aaron was here to help explain. Somehow he had a way of making things sound so good.

“But isn’t it disgusting?”

Isaac’s chest ached as though he’d been kicked by a mule. “Not to us.”

“Why would you want to do that? With a
boy
?”

“It comes natural. It feels normal.”

Ephraim’s face scrunched up. “How can that be?”

“It just is. It’s who we are.”

“Do you…do you
kiss
him?” Ephraim asked, disbelief clear in his voice. He still kept his gaze locked on the ceiling.

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand why you’d want to.”

“That’s because you’re not gay.” Isaac realized he was tearing into his socks, and dropped them beside him on the quilt.

Ephraim seemed to ponder that. “I guess that makes sense.”

Isaac’s heart leapt. “Do you think so?”

“If you say that’s how it is, I believe you. I know you don’t lie. Well, I guess you do. But you’re not lying now. I’d be able to tell.”

“I’m really not. I swear, Ephraim. I’m telling you the truth, and I wanted so much to tell you before.”

Ephraim tore his gaze from the ceiling and looked at him now, the hurt clear even in the night. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was afraid. I’m sorry.”

“Does Aaron know?”

“Of course. He supports us. He thinks it’s great.”

Ephraim echoed, “Great?”

“There are people in the world who don’t just…tolerate differences. They think differences are good. Aaron and his wife are people like that. They love us the way we are.”

Ephraim seemed to mull this over. “Do you love him? David?”

Isaac didn’t hesitate. “With all my heart.”

Now Ephraim sat and swung his legs over the bed so he was facing Isaac. He glanced over his shoulder at Joseph, and then leaned his elbows on his knees, his eyes bright and imploring in the faint moonlight. “But Isaac,” he whispered. “You’re not supposed to. You know God thinks it’s wrong. The Bible says so. How can you really
love
him that way?”

“It’s just the way it is. We were born different. But we have all the same feelings you do. Just not for girls.”

Ephraim grimaced, and then leaned closer. “Aren’t you afraid of going to hell?”

Isaac wanted to laugh because if he didn’t he might cry and cry. “I am. But if I’m going to hell anyway for living English, then what does it matter what else I do? I’ll never be able to be a good Amish man and have a wife. I used to pray I could feel the things I was supposed to, but now…”

“What?”

“Now I’m glad I am who I am. If God doesn’t make mistakes, then I’m the way He made me. David is too. And we love each other. We’re happy when we’re together. I don’t think love should be a sin. I can’t believe it is.” As Isaac spoke, it was though something hard and sharp that had been lodged in his chest broke free.

“I don’t know what to believe.” Ephraim’s eyes glistened. “But I know you’re my brother, and I want you to be happy.”

Isaac swallowed hard. “I want you to be happy too.”

“But Mother and Father will never accept this.”

“No. They won’t.”

“No Amish will. Not really.”

“No.” Isaac wished he had some water. And after getting clean, now he felt sweat prickle his neck.

“That must be hard to bear.”

Not trusting his voice, Isaac could only nod.

Ephraim reached out and squeezed Isaac’s hand for a moment. “Thank you for telling me. I’m sorry I can’t be more help.”

He cleared his throat. “You are. You have been. Thank you.”

Ephraim leaned back. “We should get some sleep. Lots of extra work tomorrow after the frolic.”

It seemed there was nothing else to say, and Ephraim curled back under his quilt and closed his eyes. Joseph slept on, and Isaac finished putting on his socks. It had happened—someone else in his family had found out the truth, and…and maybe it would be okay?

With his feet stuffed into his shoes, he hurried into the night to the outhouse in the stand of trees beyond the house, a swirl of relief and hope in his heart.

“Can’t sleep?”

David had heard Mary’s light footsteps coming into the barn, so he wasn’t surprised to see her step into the circle of lantern light. He smiled as he brushed Kaffi’s mane. “I guess not. Are you having trouble sharing with Anna again? You two must like having your own rooms.”

Mary smiled, toying with the end of her braid. She hadn’t put on her cap, which was as rebellious as Mary got. “I don’t mind. Especially if it means having you home again.” She reached into the pocket of her coat, which she’d pulled on over her nightgown, and pulled out a bulky piece of folded cloth. “Cookie?”

“I could never resist your sugar cookies.” He put down the comb and plucked a cookie from the top. “Mmm. Just as good as I remember.” He savored the creamy, crumbly sweetness.

She chewed on her own cookie. “You did wonderful work today. Joseph Yoder has the best harvest shed in Zebulon now.”

“Thank you.” It had been undeniably nice to help build the shed. So peaceful. “I see Jacob Miller’s quite a good carpenter.” Even in the low light, he could spot his sister’s cheeks flush.

“Yes,” she said simply.

“I enjoyed talking with him today.” He truly had. Jacob had seemed eager to ingratiate himself to David, although he’d been cooler to Isaac. “He seems a steady young man. Is he driving you home from the singing on Sunday?”

“Uh-huh. Are you…are you going to go?”

He heard her unspoken question.
Is Isaac going?
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He gave Kaffi a piece of apple, holding it flat as Kaffi’s rough tongue stroked his palm. He wasn’t wearing his hat, and he rubbed his cheek against her mane. “I can’t imagine going to church. Not after what happened.”

Mary brushed a wisp of golden hair from her forehead and passed him another cookie. “David—” She took a deep breath. “You were so close. It was your day to be baptized. Why did you run away?”

“I wish I could explain it. There were so many reasons, Mary. I know it hurts you and Mother and the girls that I didn’t join the church. I’m sorry.”