A Forbidden Rumspringa (Gay Amish Romance Book 1) (24 page)

But as he collapsed with David on him, still buried
in
him, pressing little kisses to his neck and murmuring tender words of praise and love, Isaac didn’t care.

Let it be like this.

The storm arrived so fiercely that Isaac could hardly believe that minutes ago the pavement had been clear, and the late-afternoon sun had even peeked out. Now the snow whipped across the road, striking their faces and making Isaac’s eyes water. He kept his head low, but his hat could only do so much. But worse than the bitter cold was that the world had become white.

“Light the lantern!” David shouted above the howling wind.

Isaac did, knowing the lantern in its box would do little to make them visible in the blinding snow. “Can you pull over?”

“I’ll try!”

Even with his gloves, Isaac’s fingers were numb as he gripped the seat. The next road was someone’s driveway judging by the mailbox. The lane was narrow and long, but there was another road that split off it, and using the extra space, David was able to get the buggy turned around.

“If it comes down too much, we’ll get stuck.” He wiped snow from his chin. “But better to wait here, don’t you think?”

Isaac nodded as a gust rattled the buggy. There was forest on either side of the lane, but it didn’t seem to offer much protection. “Guess we should have stayed in bed for a while longer.” Isaac could have spent all day hidden there.

He hadn’t even been tempted to peek at the TV. Cuddling with David under the covers was everything he wanted and more. David had told him stories about his father, and Isaac had shared his memory of the time the chickens had gotten loose and laid eggs in the most unexpected places. To be together miles away from home and without having to listen for footsteps was a dream.

If his hair wasn’t still damp from the shower they’d shared, Isaac would think he’d imagined it entirely. It had been so warm and safe, and now they were back in the real world, and winter was baring its fangs. The ends of his hair were brittle and frozen.

David’s teeth chattered. “Whoever thought our buggies shouldn’t have windshields didn’t live in Minnesota.”

They huddled together, the brims of their hats bumping. They seemed to be alone among the trees, but at least if anyone happened by, they had a good reason for pressing against each other.

But before too long, the snow cleared and the wind died down, almost as if by magic, or the flick of an English light switch. Winter could be like that in Minnesota—a lion and a lamb. Mostly lion, though.

David snapped the reins and they ventured back to the main road, the buggy wheels groaning in the drifts. Snow still swirled in the air, but at least they could see now. “Let’s just get home,” he muttered.

As David urged on Kaffi, Isaac lit the lantern again, glad that there weren’t many cars out. It was slow going on the snow-covered road, and it was almost dark when he pointed to the bend ahead. A red light flashed over the snow on the far side of the road. “What’s that?”

Then they came around the curve and saw for themselves. The red lights of three state police cars spun over the scene, and orange-red flares sparked on the road. A small blue car had skidded to a stop, its tail almost in the ditch.

Ahead a buggy lay crumpled on its side, the wheels in the air rocking in the wind.

Isaac’s lungs wouldn’t expand.
Please God. Please no.
He looked to David, whose eyes were wide as he pulled the hand brake and hauled on the reins, jerking Kaffi to the side of the road. They both leaped out, slipping and sliding on the patches of ice as they ran.

That it was someone they knew was certain. His family’s faces flashed through his mind—Mother and Father and Ephraim and Nathan and Katie and Joseph—and he mumbled a prayer. “Please, please, please
.
”
Don’t be them. Don’t be them.

A police officer held up his hands and stepped in their path. “You need to stay back, boys. I’m sorry.”

Isaac ignored him, desperately trying to get a closer look at the horse and buggy. He sagged in relief as he took in the coloring of the animal, which lay broken and unmoving, blood seeping into the snow. It wasn’t Roy.

But still, he recognized that horse.

He reached for David, who was already scrambling toward a slash of black on the ground. Mrs. Lantz’s eyes were shut beneath her black bonnet, and her bloody leg was twisted horribly, her long cloak and dress torn. Police officers knelt over her. The policeman who tried to block their way, an older man with a gruff voice, held David’s shoulders.

“Son, you have to stay back. The ambulance is almost here.”

David couldn’t seem to speak, little gasps escaping his lips as he stared at his mother’s crumpled body.

Nearby, a middle-aged man shouted as he paced around. “It wasn’t my fault! I couldn’t see them until it was too late! Oh my God, oh my God.” Blood trickled down his face, and he ran a hand through his thinning hair, making it stand on end. “I’m sorry. God, I couldn’t see them! There were no tail lights for fuck’s sake! How was I supposed to see them in this?”

David was motionless, eyes locked on his mother. The policeman tried to ease him back.

“They’re doing everything they can, son. Do you know her?”

When David didn’t answer, Isaac did. “That’s his mother.” His voice sounded strangely far away, as though there was a buzzing in his ears. He clutched David’s hand, the leather of their gloves sticking together.
This isn’t real. This isn’t real.

He screwed his eyes shut for a moment, praying that when he opened them he’d have fallen asleep, and he’d still be in that motel bed with scratchy sheets and David wrapped around him. He wanted to weep when he looked around again, but he couldn’t. David was frighteningly pale and still.

“Then Mary’s your sister?” the officer asked David.

But David didn’t seem to hear him, his gaze riveted to his mother on the ground a few feet away.

Isaac’s stomach curdled sickeningly. The driver’s plaintive shout echoed through his head.
“How was I supposed to see them?”
Oh Lord.
Them
. Isaac whipped around. “Mary! Mary!”

The officer raised his hands. “She’s all right. It was a miracle, I tell you. Got thrown clear into a snowbank. Missed hitting a tree by inches. She’s over there.” He called to another officer. “Bukowski! Take this kid to see the girl.”

Isaac exhaled a long breath and murmured a prayer of thanks that at least Mary was all right. He turned to David, peering at him closely. He shoved his gloves in his pockets and tipped David’s chin toward him. But David’s eyes never left his mother. “David, do you want to see Mary? She’s all right. Did you hear what the policeman said?”

But Isaac didn’t think David could hear anything. He looked at the officer. “I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s all right, I’ll watch him. Go see the girl. Poor thing’s in shock too.”

Isaac squeezed David’s hand so tightly it had to hurt. “I’ll be right back. I need to make sure Mary’s all right. Can you hear me?” He wanted to hold David close, kiss him and tell him everything would be fine. But he stepped back, aching as he walked away, somehow putting one foot in front of the other.

A policewoman—Bukowski, Isaac assumed— smiled kindly and led him to one of the cruisers. On the other side of the road, an officer directed traffic with flashing sticks as a few vehicles crawled by, full darkness settled in now aside from the eerie colored lights casting everything in a bloody hue.

Officer Bukowski opened the back door of the car. “Mary, honey? Someone’s here for you.” She stepped back.

Mary was wrapped in two blankets. As she turned her glassy stare to Isaac, he crouched down and took her gloved hand. It was slick and sticky, and he realized with a wave of nausea that it was blood. But he didn’t let go. “Mary? It’s me. Isaac. It’s all right. You’re going to be all right.”

Her black cap and bonnet were gone, her blonde hair spilling loose from its pins. Through puffy red eyes, fresh tears slipped down her cheeks, cutting a line through smears of red. “Isaac?”

“Yes. I’m here. David’s here too. He’s looking after your mother.” Not quite true, but close enough.

Mary’s face crumpled. “She was screaming, Isaac. I couldn’t help her. And old Nessie too. When the police came, they shot her in the head. But mother isn’t screaming anymore either.” She shuddered, gasping. “Is she dead?”

“No, she’s alive.”

“Really?” she whispered.

“Yes. The ambulance is coming. She’s alive.”

Mary nodded. “All right. I know you wouldn’t lie to me, Isaac.”

His stomach, already churning with horror and fear, roiled even more as guilt poured in as well. “I’m so sorry this happened, Mary.”

“She was nervous to take the pie, so I went with her. Anna was right, she likes Mr. Helmuth. I think he likes her too. He was so happy to see her.” Mary’s words spilled out, and her eyes went unfocused. “When we left it wasn’t even snowing. We were going to pull off the road, but there was nowhere to go along this stretch. Then it was so loud, and I was flying. I was buried in the snow, and everything hurt. I couldn’t see out. But I could hear the screaming.” A sob burst free, and she bowed her chin to her chest, hair draping her face.

Isaac stroked her head helplessly. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “It’s all right.”

At first he thought the faint wails were coming from Mary, but as they got louder he realized it was the ambulance approaching. “I’ll be right back. The ambulance is here. Hold on.” He made sure she was tucked in safely before he gently closed the car door.

As the ambulance roared up with red lights flashing, Isaac hurried back to David. He wrapped an arm around David’s back, not caring what anyone might think. “Mary’s all right. David? Can you hear me?”

David still stared with empty eyes. White flakes dusted his hat and coat, and Isaac was struck by the thought that if they left him there, by morning he’d be buried in snow and lost forever. Isaac brushed off the flakes, suddenly frantic in his need to see David’s hat and coat unblemished again.

“It’s okay. He’s in shock.” The same policeman from before spread a blanket over David’s shoulders. “It’s very common. He can ride in the ambulance. You go with his sister, and we’ll take you to the hospital.”

Isaac nodded dully as the paramedics crowded around Mrs. Lantz. He was tempted to ask if they thought she’d make it, but wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer. A thought occurred to him. “Our buggy is still on the road. I can’t leave it there. I don’t think we tied the horse…” He looked back for Kaffi.

“We’ve moved it already. Don’t worry about it, son. The horse is just fine.”

“Thank you.” Isaac watched as the paramedics rolled over a stretcher. He stood close enough to David that he could press against him so David might know somewhere in his mind that he wasn’t alone.

Suddenly the driver of the car was in front of them, his eyes wide as he clutched at Isaac. “I’m so sorry. You have to believe me! It was an accident!”

The policeman stepped in, pulling the man away firmly. “It’s best if you don’t talk to anyone, sir. Go back over there and wait.”

The man reached for Isaac again, eyes shining. “Please, you have to understand. I couldn’t stop in time! I couldn’t see anything. I didn’t know they were there, and I slammed on the brakes but—”

“I believe you.” Isaac touched the man’s arm. “We don’t blame you.”

The policeman led the driver away, and Officer Bukowski helped nudge David to the ambulance as the stretcher was loaded on. David walked like one of the creatures in Aaron’s old comics—a zombie they were called. He climbed into the ambulance, and Isaac squeezed his shoulders.

“I’ll be right behind you. I’m going to the hospital with Mary. All right? David?”

But David only stared at his mother, who now wore an oxygen mask, her skin distressingly pale. Her leg was in a splint, and a bone protruded sickeningly beneath her knee.

Choking down a rush of bile, Isaac stepped back as they closed the doors. Bukowski shepherded him along, and he was vaguely aware of getting into the police car and sitting beside Mary, who leaned against him, whimpering.

Isaac held her close and watched the world go by, the siren piercing the terrible night.