A Forbidden Rumspringa (Gay Amish Romance Book 1) (32 page)

His face was splotchy, and his hair stood up in places. He leaned in closer, examining his red and puffy eyes, glistening still with tears. “
The color of amber—
like something shiny and beautiful, but solid all the same.”
Fighting back another wave of emotion, Isaac reached for the taps. Ever so easily, water flowed out, and he splashed his face. A towel hung from a ring on the wall, and he blotted his skin dry.

Isaac rolled his shoulders and gazed at himself in the mirror. It was the first proper look he’d had since leaving Red Hills, not counting snatched moments here and there. Now he could stare at himself for hours if he wanted, with no one telling him he was too proud. But June was downstairs, probably wondering what he was up to.

He looked for another minute, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. He searched his reflection, although he wasn’t sure what he was looking for. He wasn’t sure who he was. “But I’m going to find out,” he murmured. With a deep inhale, he stood up straighter and flicked off the light.

The smell of warm chocolate wafted through the air, getting stronger as Isaac reached the bottom of the stairs.

“In here!” June called.

Following the sound of her voice, Isaac found the kitchen. June stood by the stove, stirring something in a pot. Two mugs waited on the counter.

She nodded to the round table. “Have a seat, hon. It’s just about ready.”

He did, peering around the room. The tall refrigerator hummed in one corner, and the open pantry was stuffed with food. There was a window over the double sink, with yellow curtains that were practically see-through. On the wall by the table a pad of paper hung. It said
To do
, and the paper was in a wooden frame carved with the same flowers as the sign in the entryway. David was everywhere in this house, and for a crazy moment, Isaac wondered if he could ask David to make him something to take to San Francisco.

When June placed one of the mugs in front of him, Isaac wrapped his hands around it gratefully. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. So, how did it go?”

“Good. I’m…I’m leaving. Later this week. Aaron said he can buy a bus ticket for me on the computer? That is, if you can drive me to Grand Forks.”

“I’ll drive you anywhere you need to go.” Her smile was unmistakably sad. “We don’t know each other well, but I’ll miss you. And I know David will.”

Isaac drank his cocoa so he wouldn’t have to say anything. It burned his tongue.

June sighed. “David’s torn up inside. I know you are too. He’s never talked about things between you, and I’ve never asked. But it was plain as day to me. You boys were very close for a time. But not now.”

“No.” Isaac swallowed hard. “Not now.” He gripped the mug. “I told Aaron. That I’m…you know.” He glanced up at June. “You know what I mean, right?”

She squeezed his forearm. “Yes, I know. That was very brave of you. I’m of the firm belief that we’re all just as the good Lord made us, and that love comes in all shapes and sizes. And there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Isaac smiled, his dry lips cracking at the corners. “That’s what Aaron said.”

“Well, he sounds like a smart fellow, your brother.” She took a sip of cocoa. “Now, as I told you, I’m happy to drive you to Grand Forks or anywhere you want to go. But I have one condition.”

“Of course.” Isaac nodded.

“See David before you leave. Tell him where you’re going, and see if you can’t talk him into going with you.” Her eyes glistened. “I know, I know—it has to be his choice. But just try, Isaac. If he stays in Zebulon, I’m afraid for what will become of him. Joining the church and getting married to a woman—it’s not what he wants. I think it’ll kill him bit by bit, and it breaks my heart.”

Isaac blinked rapidly. He nodded, not trusting his voice.

“All right, we have a deal.” She swiped at her eyes. “Let’s finish our treat, and then you’d better get back home. You’ve got big plans to make.”

As he looked to the future, there were too many conflicting feelings battling within him, so Isaac closed his eyes and concentrated on just that moment, with cocoa sweet and warm on his tongue.

This is my last day in Zebulon.

Isaac stared at the ceiling, listening to Nathan’s racket beside him. It was still dark outside, but he could faintly hear Mother and Father stirring in their bedroom. Another Sunday begun. He’d go to church, and see all the people he’d known his entire life. He’d see Mary and Mervin. He’d see David.

Isaac squeezed his eyes shut at the thought that it could very well be the last time. He’d get David away from the others at lunch, and he’d beg him to leave. Not because June made him promise, but because he would regret it always if he didn’t try again. Perhaps he was a pathetic fool. He shivered and tugged the quilt up to his chin. David had rejected him. He’d made his choice.
But maybe
…

No. Isaac couldn’t let himself hope. He’d ask him, but he knew David’s answer already.

He’d slept fitfully after deciding on his plan. Mother and Father would expect him to go to the singing, but he’d pretend to get sick that evening. Mary and Anna could get a ride home with someone else. Isaac couldn’t stop a nasty smirk.
Or David will have to drive them and leave his courtship of Grace for the next singing.

During the singing, Isaac would go to June’s to arrange the bus ticket and ask her to pick him up at the end of the lane on Monday afternoon to get to Grand Forks with plenty of time to spare. There wasn’t much he was taking with him, and he could invent an excuse if someone happened to see him with his sack. He had a little more than thirty dollars saved up, but it would be enough as long as Aaron could buy the bus ticket.

He’d leave the note on his pillow Monday afternoon, and no one would see it until it was too late. It was unforgivable, but it was better than burdening his family with the truth. He hoped they could all understand. He swallowed over the lump in his throat. Mother and Father never would, and he couldn’t blame them.

But he hoped Katie and his brothers could forgive him one day. Especially Ephraim. Ephraim would probably hate Isaac for leaving him behind. But he wasn’t even seventeen. Maybe once he could go to the singings and date, Ephraim would settle down. Maybe.

Tomorrow Isaac would spend one last morning at home milking and doing chores before walking away. But today he’d be with his community. The people of Zebulon weren’t perfect, but they were good and kind for the most part.

Huddled in his bed with his brothers still sleeping, Isaac wondered what kind of people he would meet out in the world. When he thought of June, and Danielle the nurse, his stomach settled. There were good people in the world. And at least with Aaron to guide him, the prospect was slightly less terrifying.

Would the English like him? Would he seem strange to them? Would he fit in? He could take classes the way Aaron had. Maybe he could go to college too. To study what, he had no idea. He supposed he could study anything he wanted. The possibilities were endless—and overwhelming. Isaac’s pulse raced, and he tried to focus.
Get through today first.
From the barn, he heard the rooster crow.

Here we go.

Breakfast was like any other, but he savored every bite of the scrapple mother had made, the pork, cornmeal, and flour concoction flavorful and filling. Yet by the time he arrived at Samuel Schrock’s barnyard for church, his breakfast was a stone lodged in his stomach. He’d brought the rickety spare buggy as usual, and took his time unharnessing Silver, petting her neck.

It had snowed a few more inches overnight, and the sky was its familiar gray, the wind biting. The men socialized by the barn in quiet groups as usual, the women and girls already inside the house. As he scanned the men, immediately Isaac knew the slope of David’s shoulders; the swell of his backside, and narrowness of his hips.

He was struck by the desire to race through the snowdrifts and throw his arms around David, to breathe in the sawdust that always lingered on him.

Instead he squared his shoulders and marched over to where Mervin, Mark and a few other young men chatted. They all greeted him with nods and understated smiles appropriate for a Sunday, although Mervin barely jerked his head. Mark glanced between them with a furrowed brow, and Isaac willed him not to ask. Fortunately it was soon time to fall into line and file inside.

When they had all removed their coats and hats and squeezed onto the benches stuffing the house, Isaac automatically looked right to catch a glimpse of David. David’s hair was over the tips of his ears now, and before too long it would cover them completely. He’d grow a beard, and carefully shave the top half of his chin and above his lip. He would be a proper Amish man.

Acid in his mouth, Isaac looked away.

Beside him, Mervin was a wall of tension. Isaac didn’t dare glance at him, and wondered if Mervin would even speak to him long enough for Isaac to try and make peace and say a sort of goodbye. Perhaps there would be no peace with his oldest friend.

Naturally the service was endless. While the congregation sung the dirge-like German hymns, the preachers took the applicants who were working to join the church into the Obrote—on this day the Schrock’s kitchen, which had a door. Isaac watched David walk out with the others. The time was nearing when they would join the church officially. At least Isaac wouldn’t have to witness that.

But
I still might convince David to leave with me.
He shouldn’t hope, but the kernel of light in Isaac’s heart still said
maybe
, maybe, maybe.

By the time one of the preachers wrapped up the long sermon, Isaac fidgeted in his seat. Whatever would come from this day, and his pleading with David, he wanted it done. He breathed a sigh as the preacher stepped back, but then Bishop Yoder stood before them. His white hair had grown wispier, and his narrow face was solemn.

“There are five here today who will become our brothers and sisters in Christ.” He made a motion toward a bench Deacon Stoltzfus hefted in from the kitchen and placed at the front of the congregation.

Along with the others, David stood. Isaac’s breath caught.
No, no, no. Not yet!

As always, the benches for church were all crammed into the living room where they would fit, and people craned their necks, shifting this way and that as David and the four others made their way to the front and sat.

“If you feel as you did this morning, get on your knees.” Bishop Yoder stood before them, with the deacon nearby holding a pitcher of water.

The five slid to their knees.

Bile rose in Isaac’s throat. He was already too late. David was making his vow to the church and God. There would be no turning back. Aaron had run away after his baptism, but David was different. If he gave his word to the Lord, that would be the end of it. Isaac wanted to jump to his feet and scream and shout until they stopped the ritual.

He needed one more chance to convince David to choose happiness. Choose freedom.
Choose me.
His hands trembled, and Isaac clasped them together. To have to witness David’s baptism was surely God’s punishment for Isaac’s decision to leave his family and community behind.

Utter silence descended on the room.

“Do you believe and affirm your belief that Jesus Christ is the son of God?”

Down the line, the five each answered, “Yes, I believe that Jesus Christ is the son of God.”

David was last, and Isaac could barely hear his voice. It was as though only a ghost of David remained. Tears sprang to Isaac’s eyes.

“Will you remain steadfast to the church, whether it leads to life or to death?”

And a death it would be. If not physical, surely in David’s soul. Isaac shook as he struggled to keep from sobbing. He squeezed his eyes shut, not caring if anyone noticed. One by one, the five answered.

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

Silence.

Heart racing, Isaac opened his eyes and leaned into Mervin, trying to glimpse David through the crowd. David was still kneeling with his back to them.

It was barely a whisper. “No.”

As a gasp whipped through the congregation, David pushed to his feet. Chest rising and falling rapidly, he faced them all. “No.” His voice was stronger. “I can’t.” He looked to his mother and sisters. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”

Bishop Yoder and Deacon Stoltzfus stood motionless, staring at David in disbelief. The deacon looked as though he might shatter the pitcher with the force of his grip.

Mary and Anna sat together with almost identical, wide-eyed expressions, and a wail broke free from Mrs. Lantz in her wheelchair near the front.

“
Nooo
! Why? Why does God punish me? Please, David! Please!”

Eli Helmuth rose from his bench and crouched by Mrs. Lantz as he beseeched David. “Think this through. You can—”

“I can’t.” David shook his head. “Please forgive me, Mother.” Then his eyes found Isaac’s across the room. “I hope you can all forgive me.” He strode out, almost in a run.