A Forbidden Rumspringa (Gay Amish Romance Book 1) (8 page)

“How’s it going?”

Isaac jerked his hand away. David was right outside the door, and Isaac hadn’t even heard him approaching. “Fine,” he squeaked.

“I brought you a fresh towel. It’s hanging out here.” David’s footsteps retreated once more.

“Thanks!” Isaac called.

The last thing he needed was to disgrace himself in David Lantz’s barn, so Isaac tugged hard on the rope. The rush of cool water doused him, and he thought about sitting in church listening to the preachers until his body settled. When he cracked open the door he was alone, and he quickly toweled off and re-dressed.

At the worktable, David was bent over one of his designs again, scratching notes with a pencil. He glanced up. “How was it?”

“Great. Wonderful.” Isaac forced a smile. Lord help him, what would David think if he knew what Isaac had been so tempted to do? “Thank you,” he added.

“I’ll make sure there’s a towel for you every day.” David dropped his pencil and ran a hand through his dark hair with a yawn. “I should wash up myself.”

At the thought of David being naked where Isaac just had stood, he sucked in a breath and made for the door. “See you in the morning!”

Silver waited in a small paddock, happily munching grass. He harnessed her, petting her head and scratching her neck just where she liked it. They plodded down the lane, the old buggy creaking with every rut. Isaac was almost home when he realized he’d forgotten his hat, but the way the breeze caught his wet hair made him think of a train flying on the tracks, and he spurred Silver on faster.

“Well?”

Isaac glanced up from his bowl and slurped the bean soup on his spoon. “Well what?”

Mother and Father chuckled, and Ephraim rolled his eyes. Nathan elbowed him. “You’ve been working with David Lantz for days now, and you’ve barely said a word about it!”

“Oh.” Isaac pulled his spoon back and forth through his soup. He was oddly embarrassed, and thinking of David made his belly flutter. “It’s fine. I can’t complain.”

“Isaac.” Father’s smile faded. There was soup dribbled onto his chin, and he plucked a paper napkin from the simple wooden holder Isaac had carved for Mother last Christmas. Father wiped his mouth and dabbed at his beard. “Are you not happy?”

“No, no. I am!” Isaac smiled. “Really. It’s just a change. Takes some getting used to.”

Mother frowned. “Are you feeling well? I’ll make you some sage tea before bed.”

“I’m fine. Really.”

“We know you were hesitant about working with David,” Mother said. “Are there problems?”

“No. I promise everything’s fine. He’s very kind and patient.” Isaac felt such a glow when he thought of David. “He really is a remarkable carpenter. I can learn so much. He’s teaching me about the different kinds of wood, and which ones work best, depending on what you’re making. I’ve always just used whatever wood was around.”

“And you’ve always been able to do so much with it.” Mother beamed. “The spoon you made me when you were a boy is still the best one.” She pointed to the pot of soup on the stove, the worn handle of the spoon sticking out. “You have a gift, my Isaac.”

He shrugged, secretly pleased. “I still have a lot to learn. But now I can devote the time to it. And Father, David’s giving me my pay every Saturday.”

Father took a bite of bread. “That will be fine. Leave the envelope in the top drawer of the desk. We’ll put a portion aside for you each week.”

Blinking, Isaac glanced between his parents. “Really? But until I’m twenty-one you’re supposed to get everything.”

“Yes, and when you’re twenty-one you’ll keep your whole salary and start paying for your room and board,” Mother replied. “But you’ll be getting married soon after that, and if we set aside a little bit every week, you’ll have some savings to get you started.”

“We know it’s not normally how it’s done, but our young couples in Zebulon are struggling to get on their feet.” Father took a sip of water. “You should already have your own buggy. We will pray to the Lord for a bountiful harvest this year, and that our cows will stay healthy and their milk plentiful. We can’t give you as much as we’d like, but we want the best start in life for you, Isaac. For all of you,” he added.

Isaac took this in. “I don’t know what to say.” His mother’s words echoed. “
You’ll be getting married soon after that…
”

“Thank you would probably work,” Nathan suggested.

As everyone laughed, including Father, Isaac joined in, pushing his thoughts aside. “Of course. Thank you.”

Mother and Father nodded.

Isaac was afraid he might well up right there at the dinner table. “Thank you,” he repeated. “And…how are things here?” He realized with a flush that he hadn’t even thought about it, let alone asked. His mind had been consumed with thoughts of David Lantz all week. He supposed it made sense since it was the biggest change in his life in the five years since he’d finished school.

“Just fine, Isaac.” Father nodded. “Ephraim’s working very hard.”

Ephraim shrugged, but a smile tugged at his lips. “Maybe it turns out Isaac just never did much,” he teased.

Isaac reached behind Nathan to poke Ephraim’s hip. “I taught you everything you know.”

“Did you now? And who taught you?” Father chuckled.

Laughing, Isaac stirred his soup. “Aaron.” He inhaled sharply a moment later.
Did I just say that out loud?
Judging by the wide eyes staring his way, he had. He swallowed hard. “I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.” He dared a glance at Father.

Sorrow weighted Father’s face, a heaviness that seemed to pull all his features down toward his beard. Silently, he broke off a piece of bread and chewed it.

Anger would have been preferable. Isaac knew he should likely just stop talking, but the words tumbled out. “I didn’t mean it. You know it’s you who’ve taught us everything. He…” Isaac didn’t say Aaron’s name again. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. Why had he said it at all? Why was he thinking of Aaron so much lately? Isaac felt as though his brain had been unbalanced in the days he’d been working with David—that everything had been sent off-kilter.

Mother held her spoon so tightly it looked as though it might snap. “Of course your father has taught you well.”

“Who’s Aaron?” little Joseph asked, brow furrowed.

It was like a physical blow to Isaac’s gut, the realization that of course Joseph didn’t even know of Aaron’s existence. Katie watched them all with big eyes brimming with tears. She’d only been a baby. Had Isaac and Ephraim really never talked about Aaron with them? He wasn’t even sure if Nathan knew his name, but judging by the tension in his frame, Isaac thought he did.

“No one,” Father answered.

And that was that.

He was almost at the Lantz house the next morning when Silver stumbled. Isaac’s heart was in his throat as he hopped down from the old buggy. “You okay, girl?” He stroked her neck, squinting at her hooves. “Damn,” he muttered. He tossed his straw hat onto the buggy seat before bending over.

Running his hand down her front left leg, Isaac crouched and lifted Silver’s hoof. The shoe was clean off, and she grunted as he inspected the hoof wall. “Shh. I know. I’m sorry.” He glanced back at the deep muddy puddle he should have steered around.

“Isaac!” A little voice called out.

He glanced up to find David’s youngest sister, Sarah, running out of the house, her long dark dress swirling around her bare feet. She was seven, he thought, and had David’s dark hair and blue eyes. She wasn’t wearing her cap yet.

She skidded to a stop. “I saw you from the window, and I wanted to say hi.” Her smile faded. “Is something wrong with Silver?”

Nodding, Isaac quickly unhitched Silver from the buggy. “She threw a shoe on her front leg. Got caught up in the mud and probably stepped on it with her back foot.”

Sarah’s eyes widened. “Is that bad?”

Isaac scratched Silver’s muzzle. “Usually not, but her hoof is damaged.”

In an instant, tears welled in Sarah’s eyes. “Are you going to shoot her?”

“What?” Isaac blinked. “No, of course not.”

“Really?” Tears spilled down her cheeks.

“Hey, hey.” Isaac dropped to his knees and held her arms. “She’s going to be just fine.” He squeezed her gently. “I promise.”

Sarah threw her arms around him, her face buried in his neck as she cried. Even for a girl her age she was tiny. Isaac hugged her, not sure what else to do. He hadn’t been held since he was very small, but it had always made him feel so much better. She mumbled something he couldn’t make out.

“Hmm? What is it? You can tell me.”

She inched back and raised her reddened face. “Wayne Hershberger told me if a horse gets hurt they shoot it because horses can’t be fixed.”

“That’s only if a horse breaks a leg, or it’s really, really sick. Silver just needs to see Mr. Schrock to get fixed right up.”

Sarah bit her lip. “Are you just saying that to make me feel better?”

He smiled and tapped her nose. “No. I promised, remember?”

“And you’re like David, right? Once you make a promise you always keep it?” She wiped her nose with her sleeve. “Mother thinks Mr. Otto next door should give back the land he hasn’t paid for yet, but David said he gave his word.” She recited the sentence like lines from a book she’d memorized.

Isaac raised an eyebrow. “I have a feeling you weren’t supposed to be listening to that conversation.”

She bit her lip again. “Probably not. But you promise, right? Silver’s all right?”

“I promise.”

Sarah nodded. “Okay.”

He gently nudged her. “You’d better finish your breakfast.”

“Bye!” She flew back to the house. “Hi, David!” she shouted as she went.

Isaac got to his feet and found David standing nearby with a strange expression on his face, half in shadow under the straw brim of his hat as the sun rose.

“Sorry. She was upset. Am I late? The thing is—”

“You’re not late.” David smiled softly. “Thanks for doing that. Calming her down. You’re good with her. Sometimes children just need a hug.” He kicked at a rock. “Mother doesn’t really do that, especially after we settled in Zebulon.”

“Same with my parents. Not that they were ever ones for hugging much. They don’t coddle. Too much affirmation leads to vanity, as the bishop says. But sometimes with little ones, it’s what they need. Just…reassurance, I guess.”

“I think so too.” David stared intently.

Isaac shifted from foot to foot, not sure what else to say.

“Your knees are muddy.”

“Oh.” Isaac wiped at his pants and only succeeded in getting his hands dirty. “I didn’t notice. I’m sorry, I can—”

“Don’t be sorry.”

Isaac turned to Silver, scratching her head. “I have to walk her over to Farrier Samuel’s.”

When he glanced back, David was still watching him with a gentle expression that sent warmth flowing through Isaac. He cleared his throat. “You know, Samuel Schrock.”

David blinked. “Yes. Of course.” As if he’d woken up suddenly, he approached Silver and crouched down. “She threw a shoe?”

“The wall of her hoof is cut too, but it doesn’t look too bad. Still, I don’t want to wait. It’s my fault—I wasn’t paying attention.”

“No, I should have fixed that hole in the spring.” David shook his head and patted Silver. “Sorry, girl. You get extra sugar later.”

As if she understood him, Silver nuzzled David, and Isaac laughed. “Good thing you’re a man of your word, because Silver will collect on that promise.”

David chuckled. “What exactly was Sarah saying to you?”

“Just singing your praises.” Isaac waved his hand.

“She was listening when I talked to Mother about the land, wasn’t she?”

Isaac ran his fingers across his lips, sealing his mouth shut.

David smiled. “All right, we’d better get Silver fixed up. I’ve got a new rasp handle for Samuel. I’ll walk over with you.”

“Are you sure? I can take it.” Although the idea of a morning walk with David did make him oddly happy. “I don’t want to set us back.”

“It’s fine. Besides, it was my fault Silver lost the shoe in the first place. I’ll get the handle.” He hurried toward the barn.

As Isaac hauled the buggy off the driveway, he waved to Sarah and her sisters as they went off to school. Mary gave him a wide smile on her way to the washhouse, and familiar guilt washed through him. When David returned, Isaac grabbed his hat, and they ambled down the lane with Silver.