Gay Amish 03 - A Way Home (17 page)

“You’ve got a hickey on your neck.”

He slapped his hand over the spot where Isaac had kissed and sucked. “I didn’t know there was a name for it. In two languages, no less.”

Aaron smiled. “In Red Hills, I learned it from Abraham Lapp when we were boys. It was very forbidden. I can’t remember where he heard it.”

“I’ll have to remember that one.”

Sipping his milk, Aaron sat quietly for a few moments. In the hall, the grandfather clock ticked faintly. “Jen didn’t give me any details, but she said you’ve been struggling more than we thought with assimilating. I’m sorry I didn’t realize. I know just how hard it can be.”

“It’s not your fault. You’ve done so much for me. It was…” He tried to find the right words. “I guess it was a lot to take in. I felt so guilty for leaving my mother and the girls. I didn’t want to be a failure again.”

“You are
not
a failure, David.”

“I…I’m starting to believe that. I want to believe that, and I will. I…I was having panic attacks. But it’s getting better now.”

Aaron winced. “I’m so sorry you were going through that. I should have realized.”

“You don’t have to be sorry. It’s good to talk to you about it now. It feels like it gets easier every time. Like I get lighter.”

“The truth will set you free. That’s what they say, and I think they were onto something.” Aaron looked at him speculatively. “ So, how do you really feel about living in the city?”

David pondered it. “I don’t know. The city is so…much. But there are parts of it I really like.”

“Like what?”

“Getting pizza to come right to the door even at midnight.”

Aaron smiled. “Food delivery is a wonderful thing, it’s true. What else?”

“Walking by the ocean. Seeing all different kinds of people. Even though I hate the crowds on the bus, I like that everyone is different. And I can hold Isaac’s hand, and no one thinks it’s wrong. I mean, I know there are English people who think it’s wrong. Some of the people on TV say terrible things.”

Grimacing, Aaron said, “Those TV preachers are the worst. I try to forget that people so willfully ignorant exist.”

“Coming back here and having to hide again…it’s awful. It seems impossible, but I think I forgot how bad it feels to not have that freedom. I could never live that way again. Not ever. The things I don’t like about the city could never be as bad as that.”

“You know it doesn’t have to be all or nothing.”

“What do you mean?”

He took a sip of his milk. “There are all kinds of ways to live in the world. You don’t have to live right in the city forever. There are suburbs, and small towns. The country. It’s a whole wide world. A lot of ex-Amish still like a quieter life. They find a church that suits them. Find a place that suits them. The city doesn’t fit everyone. It doesn’t mean it’s that or coming back here. There’s all sorts of in-between.”

David pondered it, smiling to himself. “I’d still like to see more. I didn’t let myself really explore. It was so overwhelming that I just…I don’t know how to explain it. Shut down, I guess. I think I’d still like to learn things and see things. Just without feeling so afraid.”

“Of course. You and Isaac are still babies. You don’t have to rush into any decisions. You have your whole lives ahead of you. I didn’t have all the answers instantly. It took me a good while to figure out where I belonged. And when I met Jen, I realized that as long as I was with her, I’d be home.”

Home
. David swallowed hard. “It’s the same way with Isaac. I want a home with him. Wherever that is.”

“I want that for you guys too.” He took another sip from his mug. “David, I hope you know I care about you. That you can always come to me if you need help. If you need anything. I know I’m not really your brother, but…”

Emotion rose in David, and he hoped his voice wouldn’t crack. “But it feels like you are. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a brother. It’s a good feeling.”

Aaron took a deep breath, his eyes glistening. “Thank you for that.” He laughed shakily. “God, I’m a mess right now. Being here…seeing them again. It’s harder than I thought.” He ran his finger around the rim of his mug. “When I’m with my parents, I keep thinking,
Look at me! See me!
But then they do, and it’s worse. The disappointment. The betrayal. I went against everything they believe in. On one level, I understand why they feel that shunning is the only way. That one day it’ll bring me back to the church somehow. But it won’t. Not ever.”

David didn’t know what to say, and he was afraid that if he tried, he might weep. He nodded instead. As hard as it was for him and Isaac to return, it was so much worse for Aaron. He wished there was some way he could make it better.

“Part of me wants to drive over there and take my brothers and sister away, and show them a world where they can be anything they want to be. Where they can love who they want. Where they can be free.” He rubbed his face. “But I can’t. And even if I could, would it be right? Some people find great joy in that life. They’re not wrong anymore than I am.”

“I know how you feel. Truly. I’m glad I’m not the only one who feels like this.” He quickly added, “Not that I’m glad you feel bad. Just that I understand.”

Aaron’s lips lifted in a little smile. “I know what you mean. It’s good to talk to you about this.”

“It’s good to talk to you too.” David reached out and squeezed Aaron’s shoulder for a moment. Aaron had always seemed like he had all the answers. Like he was never unsure. But David realized that deep down they were all scared sometimes.

Aaron was quiet again. Then he said, “I just wish they didn’t use fear to keep their children in line. When I believed in God and it all, sometimes I’d lie in my bed late at night, terrified that I wouldn’t be good enough to go to heaven. That I wouldn’t be obedient enough, or pious. Isaac would be sleeping beside me, so peaceful and innocent. I envied him. I couldn’t remember a time that I didn’t worry. Then I joined the church.” He laughed bitterly. “I told myself everything would be better when I did. Like somehow all my fears and uncertainties would disappear. Like I would be new.”

David smiled sadly. “But it doesn’t work. It never does.”

“Nope.” Aaron rubbed his face again. “Thank God I didn’t marry poor Rebecca Eicher. My sister Abigail back in Red Hills says Rebecca’s very happy with her husband. Eight kids already.” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine it. I think if Jen and I manage to take care of one it’ll be a victory. Speaking of my sister, I need to write her and tell her I’m here. I suppose she’ll hear it anyway. If they knew she still exchanged letters with me she’d be in so much trouble. I just wish—”

After a few moments, David quietly asked, “What?”

“That I could live my life and that I wouldn’t be cut off from theirs. I know I made a terrible mistake joining the church. I pledged myself to God, and I broke my vow. But I was so lost.”

“But you found your way.”
I can too. I will.

“I did.” He shook his head. “Man, listen to me blather on. I’m not supposed to be unloading all my crap on you. I’m sorry.”

“No!” David hadn’t meant to speak so loudly, and he lowered his voice. “I mean, you should. I tried to keep everything inside, and it didn’t help. It made it so much worse. So you should tell me. You don’t always have to be the strong one.” As he said the words that were an echo of Isaac’s, David felt how true they really were.

His voice tight, Aaron nodded. “You’re right.”

“That’s what brothers are for.” As the words left his mouth, David held his breath. Maybe it was too much to say that.

But Aaron only smiled. “It is.” He picked up his mug. “Hey, do you want some? Doesn’t take long in the microwave.”

“Sure. Thank you.”

Aaron puttered around in the darkness, the light from the fridge slicing the kitchen as he poured another mug of milk and refilled his. The house was completely still in these small hours, and even though he’d be tired in the morning, David was glad to be awake. The microwave hummed, and they watched the mugs rotating in the golden light until the machine beeped.

David sipped the warm milk gingerly, blowing on it as Aaron sat beside him again. “Can I borrow your little computer tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Aaron answered. “Anytime,”

“I need to make a few calls for work. Send emails too, and I still find it hard to type on my phone.”

Aaron chuckled. “It takes some getting used to. Have you ever seen Jen’s mom trying to text? It’s painful. You’re much better than her—you’re getting the hang of it all. I used to hate talking on the phone. It felt so awkward. But now it’s second nature. Well, actually now most people communicate through clicking ‘like’ on Facebook.”

“I should get one of those.”

“I can show you how to sign up. Only takes a few minutes.”

“That would be great. Thank you.” David swallowed some of his milk, savoring the soothing warmth. “Is Jen coming soon?”

“Yeah. Won’t be long now. They’re short-staffed at the moment, but she’s cleared it with her chief. Just has to do another two shifts before she comes.” He smiled tightly. “I wish she was here now, but I can’t exactly argue with saving lives.”

“I’m glad it won’t be too much longer. She’s been so good to me. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you both.”

“You don’t need to. We’re family now. That’s just how it works.”

Family.
He repeated the word in his mind as he sipped from his mug. The milk was soothing, and David swallowed gratefully. The night was wearing on, but for a little while longer, he and Aaron sat together in the stillness, not needing to say anything else.

#

The clatter of the buggy thundering up June’s drive had David racing bleary eyed downstairs just past dawn. He skidded out the door as Anna hauled Kaffi to a stop. David raced across the gravel, not caring that it stung his bare feet. “What is it?” he called.

She hopped down, her long black dress fluttering around her ankles. “Nothing bad. I just have to be quick.” She reached back into the buggy and thrust a straw hat at him. “Should be warm enough today for summer hats.”

He took it, feeling the old familiar brim with his fingers. “But why?”

Anna straightened her black bonnet and grinned. “There’s a frolic at Joseph Yoder’s—our old place, I mean. He’s planting soybeans on the land we had left, and he made an arrangement with Josiah Otto to take back a few acres. Also building a new harvest shed, so I thought you’d want to come and help. You’re the best carpenter, and there’s no way anyone would say you couldn’t help out.”

“Is everything okay?” Aaron called from the porch.

David nodded, and Aaron went back inside with a smile. Anna watched him go and whispered, “Wow. He’s handsome.”

David had to laugh. “He is.” His smile faded. “Do you really think it’s a good idea for me to go to a frolic?” He’d always enjoyed them, especially the barn raisings.

“Yes. Show them you’re not ashamed. Not afraid.”

“But what if I am? Everyone will be there. You know how they’ll stare.”

“Stare right back, big brother.”

“But I should go to the hospital and see how Nathan’s doing. See Isaac.”

“You can go later this afternoon. I’m sure Isaac will understand.” She glanced up at the brightening blue sky. “It’s going to be the best day yet this year. Come on. Just for a few hours.”

He sighed. “How can I say no?”

“You can’t. Now go get changed and I’ll drive you over.”

After telling Aaron and passing a message for Isaac, David quickly tugged on his old Amish clothes. But this time he wore his black briefs, feeling a ridiculous thrill at breaking the Ordnung. By eight he and Anna pulled up outside their old home. Folks milled around, already working. Some of them peered at the buggy with open curiosity.

Anna squinted. “It looks the same.”

It did, and it gave David’s heart a twist that his family didn’t live there anymore. He wondered who was in his old room—the room where he’d spent night after night dreaming of Isaac and sinful things. His gaze automatically went to the barn, and for a moment he was glad he was still sitting in the buggy, for his knees might have given out.

It looked just as he’d left it aside from a fresh coat of dark red paint. He could almost see Isaac there, with his bashful smile and freckles dancing across his nose, sweat dampening his hair on the back of his neck as he worked. He could smell the sawdust and hay and horse, even though they were too far away.

“Coming?” Anna asked as she hitched Kaffi to the post alongside the line of buggies and horses.

“Uh-huh.” David stepped down and pet his old horse, feeding him an apple from his pocket and suddenly feeling very conspicuous.

Anna had to go join the women, and David walked closer to the house with her so he could see Mother and the girls. Mary glanced up from her apple peeling and smiled for a moment. The girls squealed his name and ran to him. Mother, who sat in a kitchen chair that had been brought outside, watched and then beckoned him over. David could feel the eyes of the women boring into him. It was a strange mix of curiosity, resentment, and hope.

“You’ve come to help,” Mother stated.

“Yes. Anna said they’re building a new shed. I don’t have my tools with me, but I’d love to lend a hand.”

There was silence for a few heartbeats. “I am sure it will be appreciated,” Mother said. The other women murmured in apparent agreement. Mother studied him, but said nothing else.

He realized with a jolt that Grace was there by a pile of carrots, her eyes on her shoes and her body rigid. With her dark hair and eyes, she was the spitting image of her mother nearby, who pointedly didn’t meet his gaze. Not that he could blame them after what he’d done. Poor Grace, who he’d barely dated but had still disappointed more than she could probably say—or
would
ever say.

It seemed wrong not to at least say a few words. Aware of all the eyes locked on him, David shuffled over to Grace. “I…hello.”

Not meeting his gaze, Grace grabbed a carrot and peeled it with deft strokes, the skin falling away in neat strips. “Hello.” It was barely a whisper.