A Forbidden Rumspringa

by Keira Andrews

  “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 worktable, 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, and 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 really 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.

  The wind whistled by the window, and Isaac could almost imagine it was a train. The idea he’d only dared speak once filled his mind, pushing at the fear and guilt and hopelessness until it was the only thing left. He burrowed his face under the quilt and mouthed the words.

  I’m leaving.

  “Isaac.”

  His belly flip-flopped as he looked at David in the entrance of the barn. He’d been sawing so intently he hadn’t even heard the door heave open. It was mid-afternoon, but gloomy and damp as January often was, although the lantern beside him on the worktable gave off not only light, but heat. He’d been working so hard he’d hung his hat and shoved up the sleeves of his coat. He wiped his brow before peeling off his gloves.

  “I finished the bed frame for the Hooleys. This is the side table. And the new kitchen table for Bishop Yoder’s daughter is ready to be delivered. I’ll take it tomorrow. Then there’s the—”

  “Isaac, stop. Please.”

  No. Don’t say it.

  David pulled the door shut behind him, and heat flowed through Isaac, his body humming as if it remembered the things they’d done behind that closed door. The urge to throw himself at David and finally touch him again had Isaac’s head spinning. But David didn’t pull the beam across, and the gulf between them felt like miles and not feet. There were dark circles under David’s eyes, and a weariness that made him smaller somehow.

  David took off his hat and circled it in his hands, head down. “Isaac—”

  “How is she settling in? Is the ramp okay? My father and Ephraim came over yesterday to help me with it.” Isaac fiddled with the tools spread out on the table, picking them up and putting them down.

  “They didn’t have to do that. I was going to build it. But yes, it’s perfect. Thank you. And thank you for all the work you’ve done without me. I’ll find a way to pay you.”

  Isaac shook his head. “I don’t care about that.” Before David could argue, he plowed on. “Your mother must be glad to be home. Must have been strange to be there for Christmas with all those bright decorations. Do they do that in the hospital? Put up all the sparkling lights? I remember in Red Hills there was this English house out by the highway that had the biggest tree in front of it, with so many lights. Once I asked Mother why we couldn’t decorate, and she said candles in the window were quite enough for Jesus, and anything else was prideful and that the English had forgotten the true meaning of Christmas. Although Mother and Father always give us a little something. Joseph got a yo-yo this year, and he can’t put it down.” Isaac ordered himself to stop babbling.

  In the silence, David blew out a long breath and placed his hat carefully on the table. “Isaac, you can’t come here again.”

  He gripped the side of the table, his head feeling as though it might pop off his shoulders. He forced himself to look at David, the wide table still between them.

  “I told you I can’t pay you. And I told you that you need to stay away.”

  Isaac swallowed hard. “You don’t really think the accident was God’s punishment, do you?”

  David rubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know. It doesn’t matter now. What’s done is done. Either way, you know we can’t go back to the way things were. It’s impossible. We always knew it, even if we didn’t want to admit it. Now we have to be men, and face our responsibilities. We’ve had our rumspringa.”

  Fury shot through Isaac. “It was more than that!” He slammed the hammer down, cracking a piece of oak. Kaffi startled in her stall, snorting and sidestepping, Silver whinnying nearby. Isaac flattened his palms on the table. “And you know it’s not impossible. You know there’s a way.”

  David shook his head, defeated.

  Isaac took a deep breath and said it out loud. “We can leave. We can go into the world, where there are other people like us. Where there are people who won’t judge us. I love you, David. More than anything. We can be together. We can be free.”

  The bark of David’s bitter laugh echoed in the rafters. “I’ll never be free, Isaac. How could I walk away from them after all they’ve lost? Especially now? Mother will be in a wheelchair for months. We can’t even come close to paying the hospital bill. The community’s helping, but it’s not enough. They’re my responsibility.”

  “What about Eli Helmuth? Surely he plans to ask your mother to marry him? Anna said he barely left her side.”

  “Maybe, but even so, I can’t leave them. Not after Joshua.”

  “So you’ll be trapped here in a life you don’t want, and for what? To atone for your brother’s sins?”

  “And my own!” David shuddered. “You know all the things I’ve done. I have to make it right.”

  “By being miserable?”

  “By being holy. Living a plain life. By joining the church and devoting myself to God. If I pray hard enough…”

  Isaac raised his hands before letting them fall to his sides. “If you pray hard enough? What will happen? You’ll stop being a…you’ll stop being gay?” The word still felt foreign on his tongue, but he knew he had to say it out loud.

  “I don’t know. I have to try.” David’s chest rose and fell rapidly, and he peered at Isaac, imploring. “If we both try, we could be friends. After enough time.”

  Fists clenched, Isaac choked down a scream. “Friends? So we’ll both join the church? Get married? Should I marry your sister, David? She loves me—we both know it. Then what? Would I lie with Mary the way I would with you? The way I want to with you?”

  David flinched and squeezed his eyes shut.

  “Would I touch her the way I touched you? The whole time closing my eyes and seeing your face. Hearing your voice in my ear. Tasting your cock in my mouth. Feeling you inside me. Being inside you. It would be only in my mind, but Mary would know it wasn’t her I really wanted, even if she never knew who it was. Is that what you want?”

  Shuddering, David opened his eyes. “No,” he whispered.

  As Isaac took a deep breath and said the words, he realized with a strange sense of calm that they were true. “I’m never joining the church, David. If you have to stay in Zebulon, I can’t stop you. But I can’t stay. I don’t know when I’m leaving, but I know I am.”

  Pale eyes glistening, David nodded. He inhaled deeply and picked up a saw. “I should get to work.”

  “You need help with this now more than ever.” Isaac waved his arm over the worktable and tools. “I don’t care if you can’t pay me. At least let me do this.”

  David’s throat worked as he swallowed thickly. “I’m a weak man, Isaac. I can’t bear to be close to you without…” He shook his head. “You’ve done so much already. Thank you. But I don’t want you to come back here again.”

  I’m leaving.

  Isaac forced himself to stuff his hands into his gloves and put on his hat. He led Silver from her stall, rubbing her neck and saying a silent prayer that he wouldn’t be sick. To know that he’d kissed and touched David for the last time weeks ago—that he never would again—made him feel utterly hollow.

  He passed within arm’s reach of David, but kept his fingers tight on the reins. At the door, Isaac stopped. His voice was reed thin, and he stared out at the last rays of light beyond the swaying branches on the barren horizon. “But you still want me? You still love me?”

  David’s voice was little more than a whisper. “Always, Eechel.”

  Isaac left him behind, not sure if that made it better, or all the worse.

  Chicke
n and potatoes sat like a lump in Isaac’s stomach. Dinner conversation had fortunately been dominated by Katie’s detailed rendition of her school project on tadpoles and how they become frogs. More than any of them, Katie had always loved school. Now as Isaac settled himself on the wooden bench under the window in the living room, he watched her curled in Mother’s rocking chair, reading a textbook avidly. Katie’s black cap had fallen to her shoulder, and she twisted a long chunk of her blonde hair around her finger, her eyes darting left and right as she read.

  They’d barely been taught any science in school, and Isaac had no doubt the text took a Christian approach. They’d mainly learned English, and to read and write. Practical math and some history—but Amish history, of course. School taught them enough to get by when they had to interact with the English world, and little else.

  He remembered the first time he heard the word evolution, and Aaron’s shouts of protest as Father snatched the forbidden book from Aaron’s trunk and marched downstairs to throw it into the stove. Late into the night in their bed, Aaron had talked and talked, seething quietly and telling Isaac all sorts of things he didn’t understand. Isaac had nodded, but surely God had created the universe?

  He reached into his pocket to feel the knife, watching his sister and listening to a log crack and sizzle in the stove. Though their beds were never quite warm enough in winter, the living room was too hot. Sweat gathered in the dip of Isaac’s lower back.

  Father read his old black Bible in his rocker next to Katie, swaying gently with the odd tap of his bare foot. Nathan read his school book listlessly where he sprawled on another bench. In the corner, Joseph stood flicking his yo-yo up and down.

  Ephraim flipped through the paper on a chair near the stove, flicking the pages loudly. Isaac wished he could ask Ephraim to come upstairs and talk with him, but of course if he did, everyone else’s interest would be piqued, and there would be questions to answer. If not today, then tomorrow, or the day after.

  Katie turned another page. Before too long, she’d be finished with school. Her life would be raising children, cooking, cleaning, quilting and canning. Maybe she’d settle into it happily. Maybe not. Not that she had a choice. Isaac tugged at his collar. Not that any of them did. He loved carpentry, but what if he loved something more? How would he even know?