A Forbidden Rumspringa (Gay Amish Romance Book 1) (30 page)

“Today we have to take Mother home and come back for the singing, so you’d be doing us a real favor. Although it might just be me you have to drive.” Anna whispered loudly, “Pretty sure Jacob Miller has his eye on Mary.”

Mary’s smile vanished, and she sputtered. “He does not!”

Anna’s expression was blandly innocent. “I guess we’ll see.”

“Isaac, I…” Mary flushed to the roots of her blonde hair. “Well, you know I’d rather get a ride from you.”

He knew it all too well, and hated himself for it as he backed down the ramp. He wished he could be the man she wanted. “It’s no problem either way. I’d better get back to greeting.”

As he fled, he heard Mary and her mother hiss something to Anna, but he couldn’t make it out over the rush in his ears. Each day he waited, the harder it would become—not only for him, but everyone who cared about him. Everyone he cared about. As he rushed to the barn, he repeated the two words he couldn’t let himself forget over and over.

I’m leaving.

He didn’t look for David this time as he joined one of the clusters of men, nodding to them and shaking hands. As they spoke about something, Isaac was lost in his mind. The days had marched on since it had ended with David, and he’d done his chores and repaired the fences, shivering out in the fields in snow up to his knees.

What am I waiting for?

He still had to figure out when to go.
Where
to go. His mind was blank as he thought about disappearing over the horizon with the trains, going…where? In Zebulon, the rest of the world felt like a void—even Red Hills as unreachable as the moon. He should be excited by the possibilities, but clammy sweat dampened his bangs beneath his hat.

There would never be a good time to leave, and he knew it. Isaac reached into his pocket to hold the knife. He finally understood why Aaron had slipped away in the night. The thought of telling Mother and Father he was abandoning them—abandoning the plain life—seemed impossible. They’d ask why, and what would he say? Could he say it out loud?

Even thinking it made his palms itch and his mouth dry. And if he did tell them, would they guess about David? Would he be condemning David to a life of whispers and sidelong glances? What good would the truth do any of them? As his mind spun, Isaac nodded absently at something Joseph Schrock said, wishing he could hide away and be alone.

The truth would only make it worse. Hurt his family more. If he even told them he was leaving, they’d try everything to talk him out of it. He could imagine Mother’s tears, Father in the doorway, first calm and reasonable, and then his voice raising, anger seeping through the cracks.

No, it would have to be a note, and he could never tell them the truth about who he really was. They’d never understand. Neither would his neighbors. He imagined Mary’s stricken face. It would be bad enough to break her heart because he didn’t love her—for her to know the truth about him and her brother was unthinkable. The things they’d done, she’d never understand. No one in Zebulon could.

The things they’d done.
Memories flickered—David’s breath hot on the back of his neck as he stretched Isaac open and filled him. The dimple in David’s cheek as they laughed about some silly joke. The sweaty stink of the barn, breathing in hay and dust and animals as he sank to his knees, David’s fingers tight in his hair. The warm water in the shower, David insisting Isaac go first even though there was never enough. The wet slide of David’s tongue, his lips gentle as they kissed and held each other, safe and—

“
Isaac.
”

He blinked and found himself alone by the barn. He turned to find his old friend Mark watching him, head tilted. A sea of black coats and hats retreated toward the house, David among them, although in that moment the men all looked frighteningly the same. Isaac’s heart lurched as if he’d never see David again.

But what did it matter now? Even if he saw him every day, it would never be the same. He’d never touch David again. Never hear his heartbeat beneath his cheek as they lay in each other’s arms. Never laugh with him or talk about the things that mattered, and the things that didn’t. Never discover new things together again.

David had walked this path as far as he dared before turning back. Now Isaac would continue on alone.

“Are you coming?” Mark hitched a thumb over his shoulder.

“Sorry. I was daydreaming.”

“Everything okay?”

“Uh-huh.” Isaac made his feet move. The thought of the next three or four hours squeezed inside the house while the preachers droned made him want to run now with only the clothes on his back.

Mark fell into step beside him. “Did you and Mervin have a fight? I asked him what’s up with you lately, and he got all weird.”

Mervin.
Isaac’s chest ached. Not only would he have to sit through the service, but he’d have to do it right next to someone who could barely look him in the eye now. “No, everything’s fine.” Once upon a time, he’d told Mervin everything. Now he was as good as a stranger.

As they trudged through the snow, Mark fortunately didn’t ask any more questions. With each step closer to home, Isaac knew it was time to find his own path.

June was already on her porch when Isaac reined in Silver. She pulled an open sweater around her tightly and shoved a foot into her boot, hopping in place. “Is everything okay?” she called. “Is it David? His mother?”

“No, they’re fine!” Isaac jumped down and hitched Silver to the fence before hurrying over. He stamped his feet on the porch to knock off the worst of the snow from his boots. “I just wanted to…” Now that he was here, with June shivering and watching him expectantly, he faltered.

It had still taken him almost two weeks since they’d hosted church at his house to get up the nerve to make the trip to June’s, each day promising himself he’d do it tomorrow. A burst of unseasonable hail had damaged the tin roof of the house, and he’d spent the week on a ladder in the cruel wind, letting himself put off the inevitable. Until today.

“Come on inside, Isaac. It’s cold as a…cold thing out here.” June led him into the house.

His face prickled as his wind-bitten skin warmed, and he peeled off his gloves and rubbed his hands. June had metal hooks in the shape of daisies by the door the way they had pegs at home, and Isaac hung up his hat and coat. He untied his boots, and was glad Mother had fixed the hole in the toe of one of the socks he wore. After running a hand through his hair, he made sure his galluses were straight.

June kicked off her boots and slipped her feet into sheepskin slippers. “Now make yourself comfortable.”

An ornate wooden sign with delicately carved flowers hung on the wall in the entryway. Isaac traced his fingertip over the words.

God bless this home

Longing surged through him. “David made that.” There was something about the curve of the flowers’ petals.

“Yes, he did.” June tilted her head. “Are you and he still on the outs? I asked him about it, but he hardly says a word. I hate seeing two friends on bad terms.”

Bad terms.
It was as good a way as any to describe the acres of hurt that lay between them. “I haven’t seen him since church the Sunday before last.” The image of David driving away after the singing with Grace beside him as though she belonged seared his memory. “I guess I’ll see him tomorrow for the next service.”

“I haven’t seen him in weeks. He told me he won’t be able to continue with our little business. I haven’t moved anything in the workshop, though. I’m hoping he’ll change his mind. He needs the money now more than ever, but he seems determined to make a go of joining the church. Following all the rules.”

Isaac’s chest ached dully. “He’ll be baptized soon.”

June sighed. “Then I suppose that will be that.” She smiled sadly. “Well, do you want something to drink? Maybe some tea or cocoa?”

As much as he wanted to say yes, Isaac shook his head. He had to do this now, or he’d talk himself out of it again. “Do you think you could find my brother’s telephone number?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Your brother?”

“Aaron. He left before we moved here. Went into the world. I have no idea where he might be, and I have to find him.”

June took this in. “All right. Let’s go to my office upstairs and see what we can dig up.”

A long piece of green and pink carpet running along the middle of the staircase muffled their steps, and framed pictures hung on the wall. Looking at June’s smiling people, he was struck by bittersweet loss, as if he’d already left his own family behind. He wouldn’t have a single photo to take.

The walls upstairs were pale yellow, and more pictures hung there. They passed by open doors, and Isaac peeked into the bedrooms, all neat and welcoming, with Amish quilts on the beds. The office was at the end of the hall, overlooking the front of the house. Isaac peered out at Silver waiting patiently below.

Fat flakes of snow drifted down, and he hoped the road wouldn’t be too slick for the journey home. For a moment, an image of red snow filled his mind—the horrible angle of Mrs. Lantz’s leg, Mary’s desperate sobs, David’s stillness. He shivered.

June opened the lid of a small computer on the light wood desk—another of David’s creations, Isaac was willing to bet. The office was lined with bookshelves, and a red clock ticked loudly on the wall. Isaac resisted the urge to touch the brightly colored books. He could imagine what Father would say of June’s worldly collection.

As the computer whirred to life, June pulled up another chair for him, and they sat side by side. Isaac was vaguely dizzy.
I’m actually doing this.

June perched glasses on the end of her nose and tapped some buttons. A box appeared in the middle of the screen under the word
Google.
“Aaron Byler? Let’s see if he’s on Facebook.”

“That’s a website, right? Where you talk to people? My friend Mervin told me about it.”

“Yep. I play Scrabble with my sisters in Rhode Island every morning. Okay, here are the Aaron Bylers. Not many, luckily enough. Now take a look at the profile pictures. They’re pretty small, I know.” She pointed to a button. “Just press this to go down. Unless you want me to do it?”

“No, it’s okay. I can do it.” He leaned forward on the edge of his chair as he scanned the faces. There were only a handful, and his heart skipped a beat as he squinted at the faces in the third picture. A blond man on the right had his head thrown back, with a grinning dark-haired woman beside him, looking at the camera. It was as though Isaac could hear the rumble of Aaron’s laughter in the room. His breath came fast, his hand trembling as he pointed.

“That’s my brother.” He read the words under the photo.

Lives in San Francisco, CA

In a relationship

From Red Hills, Ohio

It was too hot suddenly, and Isaac tugged at his collar. June rested her hand on his shoulder.

“Do you want some water? Hold tight.” She disappeared, her footsteps receding down the hall. Isaac stared at Aaron in the tiny picture until everything blurred, and he choked in a breath. Then June was back, pressing a tall glass into his hand. He gulped it and swiped his sleeve over his eyes.

“Thank you. I’m sorry, I didn’t expect…I don’t know what I expected. I didn’t think it would be this easy.”

June smiled ruefully. “That’s the internet for you. A blessing and a curse if you ask me. Now we can try to find his phone number if you’d like. How are you feeling?”

“I’m scared.” He breathed deeply, his pulse flying. “What if he doesn’t want to talk to me?” he whispered.

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sure he will.”

“It’s been a long time, and he left us behind. He left me behind.” Isaac blinked at the picture of his brother. “He always loved to laugh. Especially when we weren’t supposed to. Mom and Dad would—Mother and Father, I mean.” He rubbed his face. “Things were so different then. We were still Amish, but it wasn’t like it was here. Aaron couldn’t stand it. I can’t imagine what he’d think of Zebulon.” Isaac touched the knife in his pocket.

“It must have been a very difficult decision for him to leave.” June pushed her glasses up her nose and leaned in to the screen. “He’s a handsome young man. Just like you. Isaac, I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you. But there’s only one way to find out. If you want, I could call him first. Or you can think it over for a day or two.”

Part of him wanted to run—leave June’s sunny home and carved flowers behind. But he’d only be putting off the inevitable. Isaac’s knee bounced. “Do you think you can find his phone number?

She smiled and went back to the computer. “Let’s look at the White Pages for San Francisco and see what we come up with.”

While she tapped and typed, Isaac drank more of his water, his fingers wet as he gripped the cool glass.

June hummed. “Well, there’s only one.” She plucked a small yellow piece of paper off a pad and pressed it onto the desk before writing on it with a pen.

Isaac moved closer. The bottom of the paper curled up slightly, and the top seemed to be stuck there. Aaron’s name was written in neat script with ten numbers below it. June picked up the cordless phone from the corner of the desk.