A Forbidden Rumspringa (Gay Amish Romance Book 1) (27 page)

“Of course! And…and I prayed most of the night, and everyone’s praying—”

“I don’t care about prayers.” Anna huffed. “I know I shouldn’t say that, but it’s the truth. I’ve been praying, too, but it won’t change anything. I know I’m supposed to trust in God. That it would be His will. But it’s not fair. It isn’t.”

Isaac swallowed hard. “I know. But I think it was a good sign she lived through surgery. I was afraid she wouldn’t. They said it would be touch and go. Whatever that means.”

Her eyes wet, Anna blew out a breath. “Okay. Thank you. And you saw Mary? She’s really all right?”

“Yes. Physically, at least. She was in shock, but she’s okay.”

They both turned at the rattle of an approaching buggy. Isaac’s stomach lurched when he saw Mervin at the reins, Mervin’s mother beside him.

Anna sighed. “I know everyone means well, but…” She pasted on a smile as the buggy drove up. “Good morning, Mrs. Miller, Mervin,” she called.

Isaac nodded to them as they climbed down and approached. He was afraid to meet Mervin’s eyes, heat in his face as he thought of the last time they’d spoken, and what Mervin had heard in the barn. Mervin kept his gaze locked on Anna, his arms heavy with baking dishes.

“Hello, Anna.” Mrs. Miller held another dish. “I just wanted to make sure you had enough food, and Mervin insisted on driving me since the roads are still slippery this morning.”

“Thank you—that’s so kind. Please come inside. Let me help you with that.” Anna took the dishes from Mervin and ushered his mother into the house.

Mervin didn’t follow, and Isaac shuffled his boots in the snow as the silence drew out, their breath clouding in the winter air. Mervin had always had too many words to say in not enough time, but not this morning. Finally Isaac opened his mouth, and blurted the first thing that popped into his head. “How’s Sadie?”

Pale eyebrows disappearing under his black hat, Mervin answered, “She’s fine.”

“Good. That’s good.” Isaac floundered, his mind spinning uselessly. “Are you driving her home from the singing on Sunday?”

“Isaac, please stop.”

His lungs felt as though they were full of lead. “I know things have changed, but…I still…you’re my best friend,” he whispered.

Mervin lowered his voice, words urgent. “You know that if you repent, God will forgive you. There’s no sin too great. Have you tried to overcome this? If you pray hard enough, I know you can do it.”

Isaac thought of his silent prayers that morning. The first was for Mrs. Lantz, but the second was hopelessly selfish and weak—a plea that he could be with David again. That they would find their way through this together, even though he knew in his heart the only possible life in Zebulon was apart.

Mervin went on with a glance at the house, his voice low. “I know you think you’re different, but you’re not! He has you thinking crazy things. You remember how his brother influenced those girls? They died because of him! I know this isn’t you, Isaac. It can’t be.” He clasped Isaac’s arm.

Regretfully, Isaac stepped back, and Mervin’s hand fell away. “I wish I could tell you what you want to hear. But it is me. David only helped me see it.”

“
Helped
you? He—” Mervin flushed. “Isaac, you know what the Bible says. You know how things are supposed to go. You have to join the church. Get married. I should tell the bishop everything. I might go to hell myself for keeping your secret! And what about your parents? Think of them!”

“Please don’t tell!” Isaac glanced around and lowered his voice. “Please, Mervin.”

“What are you going to do? Just keep lying to everyone? For how long?”

As Mervin’s words bore down on him, Isaac felt like the snow at his feet was quicksand. He turned and stumbled to the barn, blood rushing in his ears. He grabbed a shovel, and began clearing a path back toward the house where Mervin still stood, his shoulders slumped.

For how long?

Isaac threw the fresh snow atop the banks that already lined the walkway.
Bend, lift, throw. Bend, lift, throw.
Before long he panted, and sweat dampened his hair beneath his hat. He heard the clatter of Mervin and his mother leaving, and Anna called to him, but he didn’t falter.
Bend,
lift, throw.

What are you going to do?

As the drone of an engine approached, Isaac stopped, hands gripping the shovel so tightly the handle creaked. His chest heaved, the puffs of his breath filling the air like smoke. What would he do? For the first time he knew the answer. For the first time he said it out loud.

“I’m leaving.”

June’s truck rumbled into sight, and Isaac’s words faded on the wind. He spotted David’s hat through the windshield, and he rushed forward, slip-sliding back to the house, the shovel forgotten in a snow bank. Anna burst through the door, jabbing a finger behind when her sisters would have followed. The three girls crowded the threshold, jostling for position.

Isaac’s heart thudded as David climbed down and gave a hand to Mary, who seemed very small under her black cape. Anna flew at her sister, skidding to a stop by the truck and hugging her with care. Isaac hovered several feet away, and June got down from behind the wheel in her long red coat, giving him a little smile.

Anna kissed Mary’s pale cheek. “I’ll heat up the water for a bath, and there’s lots of food. Mrs. Miller and Mervin brought apple bread—your favorite.” She blinked back tears. “And I’m sorry for what I said yesterday morning. I didn’t mean it.”

Mary smiled wanly. “I know.”

Anna looked to David. “Well?”

He nodded. “She’s going to be all right. She won’t be able to walk for months, and she’ll be in the hospital until next week at least, but she’s going to make it.”

The relief was blissfully warm as it swept through Isaac.

Taking a shuddering breath, Anna blinked rapidly, and David kissed her forehead. Then his gaze met Isaac’s, and his jaw tightened.

“What are you doing here?” David asked shortly.

Throat like sandpaper, Isaac answered, “Shoveling.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Mary’s brow creased. “David, what’s the matter?” She turned to Isaac. “I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to thank you for yesterday. I’ve never been so scared, and you made it better.”

“But I didn’t do anything.”

She smiled softly. “You were there. That was all I needed.”

Isaac had to look away as guilt congealed in him. “I’m glad I could help.”

David spoke again, his tone even. “I only meant that I can’t pay you. I don’t know what’s going to happen. The hospital bill’s going to be huge.”

Taking a deep breath, Isaac looked into David’s pale blue eyes, willing his voice to remain steady. “I don’t expect you to pay me. I just want to help.”

“We all do,” June added. “I’m sure David appreciates it, Isaac.”

David nodded stiffly and turned on his heel, striding toward the house where his littlest sisters still waited in the doorway.

“Anna, if you’d like to visit your mother, I can drive you back with David once he gets cleaned up,” June went on. “We left Mr. Helmuth there in the meantime, and of course I can bring you home later.”

Anna nodded eagerly. “That’ll be all right, won’t it?” she asked her sister. “I know we’re only supposed to ride in cars in an emergency, but this still counts, doesn’t it?”

“I’m sure Bishop Yoder would agree,” Mary said. “It would take too long in the buggy, and there’s still a lot of snow on the roads.”

Isaac watched David open his arms to his little sisters, who crowded around him. He crouched down and spoke to them, kissing them and hugging them as they sobbed in obvious relief.

Feeling as though he was intruding, Isaac backed away with a nod to June, kicking through the snow until he found the shovel. The longing to get David alone and hold him close was unbearable. But David had made it clear he didn’t want that.

“Isaac?” Mary called out.

He trotted back. “Yes?”

She was still so pale, but her eyes were warm. “You really did help. Thank you. I hope…” She lowered her head, shrugging. “I hope I’ll see you soon.” She turned on her heel and returned to Anna before disappearing into the house.

Isaac turned to the barn and dug into a fresh mound of snow, keeping his head down and his mind blank.

Bend, lift, throw.

David’s weight pinned him over the side of the work
table, his palm against Isaac’s mouth
to stifle his cries
. Isaac couldn’t move, and as David slammed into him, every thrust stretched Isaac more, deeper and deeper until he thought he might shatter in the best possible way. He closed his eyes and felt both in his body and outside it at the same time. His focus narrowed on his
ass
, as if his arms and legs didn’t exist anymore, a
nd his whole being was that center
of burning pleasure.

But then David was gone,
and Isaac was alone, goose
bumps on his naked flesh, the table like ice beneath him
where he was bent over. He
tried to stand up, but his legs gave out each time. He pushed with his hands, but now the table real
ly was ice, and he was helpless. The ice was cracking.
He
called
for David, but there was no sound.

With a gasp, Isaac woke. He’d flailed an arm out and hit his brother, and Nathan snorted and mumbled before flopping over. Isaac froze, waiting. In the other bed, Ephraim raised his head.

“Isaac?” he asked blearily.

“It’s fine. Go back to sleep,” Isaac whispered.

“But—”

Isaac snapped, “I said go back to sleep.”

With a little huff, Ephraim flipped over. Joseph still seemed out like a light, and as the low growl of Nathan’s resumed snores filled the air, Isaac exhaled. He shouldn’t be short with Ephraim, but all he wanted in that moment was to be alone.
I’m a terrible brother.

He’d promised Ephraim they’d talk more, but had been wrapped up in his own world. A few times he’d snapped to attention while doing chores in the barn, finding Ephraim waiting expectantly and realizing he had no idea what Ephraim had said. The last time Ephraim had muttered for him to forget it.

I’ll make it up to him. Later.

After his dream, Isaac was half hard beneath his nightshirt, and he wondered if he could be quiet enough to find release and sleep again. It had been days since the accident now, and he still hadn’t seen David again. Each morning when he arrived at the Lantzes’ to work, David had left before dawn for the hospital.

Not that Isaac begrudged David seeing his mother. But he felt utterly adrift. Mary and Anna had their hands full taking care of their sisters when they weren’t at the hospital. Isaac never went to the house for lunch anymore, although they brought him food most days, Mary lingering as Isaac feigned great interest in whatever he was working on.

If she only knew.
Isaac rubbed himself with the heel of his hand through his nightshirt. He was strung tightly, like a horse whose master was yanking too hard on the reins. It was as though his body couldn’t understand David’s sudden absence after feeling his touch so often. Isaac needed release, but the thought of trudging through the snow to the frozen outhouse for privacy was enough to dampen the tense desire.

He pulled the quilt up to his chin and curled toward the window, knees to his chest. It was a dark night, and he could see little more than blackness through the square of glass. He needed to close his eyes and go back to sleep, for dawn would come all too soon.

In the morning he’d get dressed, and eat breakfast, and do his chores, and hitch up Silver to the old buggy. He’d wave to the Lantz girls as he arrived, and shovel any new snow to make sure Mary and Anna had a clear path to the washhouse and well.

Then he would work in the barn where he’d known such incredible joy. Not only the pleasure of his furtive coupling with David, but the companionship they’d found—the hours talking of nothing and everything, and the easy silences. They’d been virtual strangers, and now they’d shared so much.

He’d finished the projects David had abandoned, doing his best to remember what he’d been taught. He wished with all his heart that David would appear and tell him everything was all right. That David would kiss him and touch him and whisper he loved him, and they’d bolt the door and hide away.

But David didn’t come. At the end of the day, Isaac would climb into the hayloft and light the lamp to heat the water for the shower. He’d stand naked and trembling in the shower stall, one hand braced on the icy wall as he jerked his cock, closing his eyes and pretending David was there. When the burst of pleasure faded into nothing, the ache was always somehow worse than it was before.

You need to stay far away from me.

Shivering, Isaac watched the sky lighten by inches as David’s voice echoed in his mind. He knew he should do what David asked. But if he stayed away from David and the Lantz farm…where would he go? He would be stuck at home. There were no other jobs for him in Zebulon. He would be back where he started, as if he’d never left. As if none of it had meant anything.