Gay Amish 03 - A Way Home (20 page)

Her wide eyes were so earnest. “But it isn’t too late. I know one has to be certain before pledging our word to God. You had doubts. We all do sometimes. But you’re home now. It’s never too late to find forgiveness.”

Would you forgive me for stealing the boy you loved?
He knew it wasn’t that simple—that Isaac would never have loved her properly—but he couldn’t stop the guilt that burned in him. “You’re so good and sweet, my Mary. I wish I could be the brother you deserve.”

She stepped toward him. “But you are! You did so much for all of us, all these years. After—” She licked her lips. “After Joshua, our lives changed so much, moving here and having stricter rules. But we knew we could always depend on you. When Father went to heaven, you worked to the bone to keep us safe and well. I thank God every day for such a brother.”

“But I left you. I ran away.” Without warning, David’s knees trembled, and he gripped the side of the stall. His eyes burned, and he tingled all over.

“David?” Her brow creased. “Are you sick?”

Breathe. In and out. I’m okay.
He managed to shake his head. As he exhaled, the spike in his heart rate evened out. He was all right. He could do this. David hated that this could happen again, but Jen’s voice echoed in his mind.

“If it happens again it doesn’t mean you did anything wrong. It’s not going to go away overnight. Just work through it one step at a time. It’s a journey.”

Mary still watched him closely. “Should I wake Mother and El—Father?”

Inhaling deeply, David exhaled again and cleared his throat. “No. I’m fine.” He quirked a smile to put her mind at ease. “Perhaps I’m tired after all.”

“Have another cookie. The sugar will help.” Mary thrust one into his hand.

David ate it gratefully. “Thank you.”

She held the back of her hand to his forehead. “Hmm. A little warm, but I don’t think you have a fever. Stick out your tongue.”

He did, rolling his eyes together at the same time. Mary’s laughter filled his heart, and he pretended to wince as she slapped his arm. “I’m fine. I promise.”
I am. I’m fine. I’m strong enough.
Kaffi snorted and batted his head against David. “Oops. Someone’s feeling neglected.” He picked up the comb and resumed brushing Kaffi’s mane even though he’d worked out any knots long before Mary had arrived.

She pet Kaffi gently. “He misses you. We all do, of course.” She was quiet for a long moment, and then her voice wavered. “You’re really going, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Mary, you know I can’t stay.”

“Why
not
? What’s so great out there? What’s better than us?” Her voice rose, and Kaffi sidestepped at the outburst.

David’s heart clenched. “It’s not
better
than you. But it’s where I have to be. Where I want to be. It’s where I’m happy. Where I can be free.”

“We’re free here. I know we have rules, but we have such peace here.” She sighed. “But you’ve never really been happy, have you? There was always something missing. A light, maybe. I can’t explain it. But I see it in you now. And I’m glad to see you shine, even though it hurts me.”

“I never wanted to hurt you.” David wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Mary say so much at once. Anna had tended to do most of the talking.

“And I see it in Isaac too.” Her eyes glistened as her voice rose. “And I hate it! I know I shouldn’t, but I do.” She balled up her fists and hit her thighs. “Why aren’t we good enough for you?”

“Mary…” He struggled to find the right words.

Like the air
whooshing
from a children’s balloon, her anger evaporated, and tears fell. She whispered, “Why wasn’t I good enough for him?”

“Oh, Mary. It wasn’t you.” He took her shoulders gently. “You’re kind and generous and true. I’ve been so blessed to have you for a sister. I know Isaac wished he could have felt the same way for you that you felt for him.”

Another tear slipped down her cheek. “Truly?”

“Yes. But he…he couldn’t force his heart to feel it. It wasn’t anything you did wrong. I promise, Mary.” He pulled her into his arms, holding her close. “There was nothing you could have done differently. It wasn’t your fault.”
He’s gay. I’m gay. He’s my boyfriend. I love him too.
The words were on his tongue, but he forced them down. He couldn’t tell Mary without asking Isaac first. It wouldn’t be right.

She sobbed against his chest, her arms folded against him. She seemed as small as Sarah in that moment, and David wished he could protect her always. Mary mumbled something, and he ran his hand over her head tenderly. “Hmm?”

She sniffed loudly. “I used to dream that we’d all live here together. At the old farm, I mean. When the girls were grown, you and Grace could move into the big house, and you’d build Mother a little dawdy haus out back. And Isaac and I could have our house just a stone’s throw away, and you and he would have your carpentry business. Our children would play together, and everything would be right.”

He swallowed thickly. “That’s a beautiful dream.”

“Seems so silly now.”

“You can still have it. It’ll just be a little different than you planned. I’ve realized that’s what happens in life. Things change, but it doesn’t have to be bad. It can be wonderful.”

She clung to him. “Is leaving really what’s right for Isaac?”

David thought of Isaac on the cable car, holding the pole as they sailed down toward the bay, his face so bright it could have been the sun. “Yes.”

Sniffing again, Mary leaned back to look up into his face. “And for you?”

“Yes. It isn’t always easy, but yes.”

She wiped her eyes and nodded before dropping her head. For a few minutes they stood there as he rubbed her back, and her tears faded.

“David?” Her voice was muffled in his shirt.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

Mary stepped back and took his hands. Her eyes were clear now, and she squeezed his fingers. “It was difficult when you left. But things are okay now. It gave Eli and Mother the push they needed. We have a good home here, and Eli provides well for us. He cares for us. There was such a burden on your shoulders. Too much. It’s better now.” She shook her head and quickly added, “Not that it’s better
without
you. But we’re all right, David. You don’t need to worry about us. Don’t be burdened anymore.”

It was though he could feel his soul grow lighter. “Thank you.”

“I’ll pray for you every day.”

From others in Zebulon it felt like a condemnation, but from Mary it was pure love. David kissed her forehead and held her to his heart again.

#

“You want to drive?”

David glanced at June as they walked toward her pickup. “Me?”

“No, the deer over by the fence. There is actually a deer—look.”

He turned to see the doe, standing frozen and unblinking. They stopped and watched, and for almost a minute none of them moved a muscle. Then, tentatively, the deer picked her way beyond the fence on gangly legs, still watching them closely. When she bounded away back to the forest, white tail in the air, David found he was smiling.

“Don’t see that in the city,” he murmured.

“No, I don’t imagine you do.” June tossed him the keys. “Come on. I don’t feel like driving.”

The metal was cold in the early morning. David tucked his plastic coffee mug—which somehow kept the liquid warm without feeling hot on the outside—under his arm as he played with the keys and glanced back at the house. “Maybe I should wait for Aaron.”

“He’ll be up before long, and he has the rental. You said yourself he needs the sleep. Of course you do too, but here you are, bright eyed and bushy tailed. Well, awake, at least. You don’t have to drive if you don’t want. It was only an idea.” She held out her hand for the keys.

It was silly to be scared. He’d driven these country roads before going to the drive-in. It wasn’t the city with all the buses and honking and cable cars and people rushing this way and that. “It’s okay. I’ll drive.” He’d tossed and turned for a few hours in Anna’s room before leaving a note and walking back to June’s past a sleeping Zebulon.

The engine rattled as he turned the key, and then roared to life. It was still early, and David enjoyed the empty road and the hum of the truck. He ran his hands over the smooth rubbery touch of the steering wheel. “I really should get my license. It’s just, in San Francisco it’s…different.”

“Pretty intimidating, huh? I don’t much like driving in the city either.” I avoid it when I can.” June ran a hand through her tawny hair and tucked it behind her ears before sipping from her coffee. “How are you finding it now that it’s been a few months?”

David hesitated as he braked for a stop sign at a crossroads. “It’s…different.”

June snorted. “That’s an understatement. San Francisco and northern Minnesota are surely different.”

He laughed a little. “Just a bit. There are things I really like about it—being close to the water, and that you can eat any kind of food you’d ever want. That Isaac and I can hold hands and no one will even look twice. But sometimes I feel like everyone is speaking a foreign language. There are all these rules, but it’s not like the Ordnung. They aren’t written down anywhere. You know what I mean? Like the little smiley faces in emails? You’re not supposed to use those with suppliers. Apparently it’s unprofessional. But I was just trying to be nice.”

“Ah, yes. Unwritten rules. One of the hardest things to understand when you’re suffering from culture shock.”

“From what?”

June fiddled with the air vent in front of her. “Culture shock. It’s that confusion and disorientation you feel when you start living a different lifestyle. Happens to most people who move to another country, or just to another place.”

David rolled around the words in his mind. “June, I think I have that.”

“I think that’s a safe diagnosis, Dr. Lantz. One case of culture shock. But you’re seeking treatment and you’ll be good as new before you know it.”

He smiled. June always had a way of putting things.

“And just ask whenever you have questions. You hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Now tell me more about the city. What’s not so good about it?”

“Well… I wish I had a better workshop. I miss my old barn. In the city it’s cramped and dirty and noisy.” He shuddered as he thought of the music thumping through the walls and into his skull. “I miss the fresh air and the high ceiling. How quiet it was except for Kaffi in his stall or the cicadas singing in summer.”

“Mmm. Makes perfect sense to me.” June sipped her coffee.

He wanted to drink some of his own, but as they neared the main road, he didn’t risk taking a hand off the wheel. “But I’ll adjust. I need a little more time to—”

June followed his gaze to the buggy that trundled along the side of the road. In an instant David knew it was the Bylers’, with old Roy plodding toward the hospital. He made sure to leave plenty of room and slow as he passed by. Knowing Isaac was in the back tugged at him, and he couldn’t stop from looking over as they passed even though he couldn’t see him.

Isaac’s parents sat up front, their eyes on the road. It was a good thing they didn’t notice him as David drove by with June, but part of him wished they had. Part of him wanted to pull over and take Isaac from the buggy to defy them. Part of him wanted to kiss Isaac right in front of them so they would finally
see.
So they would finally understand, even if they never really could.

“Guess I’ll keep my visit short,” June said. “Don’t think my presence will be particularly welcome.”

They still had about forty-five minutes by David’s calculations, although visiting hours hadn’t quite started yet when he and June rode the elevator to the third floor. But when they peeked into Nathan’s room, Danielle was there. She smiled as she adjusted the tube stuck into Nathan’s arm.

“Good morning. You’re a little early, but as long as you keep it quiet, I’ll let it slide. I’m sure Nathan will be glad to see you.” She squeezed his arm.

Nathan smiled faintly, and David was alarmed to see how much paler and weaker he appeared. His hair was almost gone but for a few tufts left on his scalp. Aaron had said it was to be expected after chemotherapy, but it still hurt David’s heart. He waved awkwardly, not sure what to say. The remnants of Nathan’s breakfast congealed on a tray in front of him, and it looked as though he’d thrown up in a plastic container Danielle whisked into the bathroom.

“You’re that English lady,” Nathan said softly. His voice was hoarse.

“I am indeed. I just wanted to pop in and say hi. How’s that hospital food treating you?” June asked.

He made a noise and scrunched up his face, and Danielle laughed as she came back. “That about sums it up,” she agreed.

“If you can have a little treat, I made some peanut butter fudge. It’s my granddaddy’s recipe, and although it’s not as good as his, I’m told mine comes the closest.” June pulled a tin out of her canvas tote bag.

Nathan brightened. “Thank you.”

“I also thought you might have fun with some puzzles. It’s these Japanese things with numbers. Totally addictive.” She took out a thick paper book and a box of pencils.

Danielle nodded. “Sudoku.
Completely
addictive. You’ll love it.”

As June sat by Nathan’s bed and explained the puzzles, Danielle caught David’s eye and nodded toward the door. He followed her into the hall.

She kept her voice low. “How are you doing? Must be a trip being back here, huh?”

He traced the seam of a tile with the toe of his sneaker. “It’s…does a trip mean that it’s weird?”

“Yep. Weird, strange, surreal.”

“Then yes. Definitely.”

“Especially with Isaac back with his family, I imagine. Only temporary though, right?” She shook her head. “I shouldn’t be so nosy, I know. But I’m rooting for you two.”

“I don’t mind. And thank you. We’re going to be fine.”
We will be. We’ll be just fine.

“How’s your mom doing? Is she walking yet?”

“She is. She uses a cane, but not for much longer, I hope. I’m going to visit again later today.”

“Send her my best when you do.”