Between Two Promises

Copyright

Published by Dreamspinner Press 382 NE 191st Street #88329 Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author‘s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Between Two Promises Copyright © 2011 by Shelter Somerset Cover Art by Catt Ford All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 382 NE 191st Street #88329, Miami, FL 33179-3899, USA http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ ISBN: 978-1-61372-162-9 Printed in the United States of America First Edition October 2011 eBook edition available eBook ISBN: 978-1-61372-163-6

Dedication

To Candice

Between Two Promises

Chapter One

DANIEL SCHROCK stepped out of his garage-converted woodshop and pulled the overhead door shut with a rusty screech. He adjusted his wide-brimmed straw hat to prevent the sun, hovering above the crowns of the hemlocks and cottonwoods, from scratching his eyes. Gravel crunched under his heavy boots as he made his way down the driveway. He caught the whiff of spaghetti and meatballs drifting from the rustic cabin he shared with his boyfriend. Supper would be ready by the time he returned from collecting the mail at the bottom of the lane. Lofty trees leaned into the steep lane and allowed only a slim view of the Swan and Flathead Mountain Ranges. The first dusting of snow had already fallen on the higher elevations. Although hot and muggy in the Flathead River Valley, mid-August above ten thousand feet meant early winter. He headed down the steep lane carefully, mindful of the loose gravel. In winter, he figured trekking to the mailbox would be easier with the snow. He wondered how his brand new Chevy Suburban would handle the snowy terrain. A reliable horse pulling a buggy might have an easier time. He hadn‘t driven a buggy since he‘d lived in Illinois. That was about two months ago. An entire lifetime seemed to have passed since. Most of that Amish world he‘d left behind, ever since he and his boyfriend, Aiden Cermak, had set up housekeeping together in northwestern Montana. They rented the cabin from a middle-aged Missoula couple who had used it as a vacation home. Aiden had wanted to be truly rugged, to live in the woods without any public utilities. But Daniel knew his modern-raised boyfriend would have a harsh time surviving the winters without at least gas heat. In some ways, the plucky Englisher embodied the plain life more than he. 1

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He realized Aiden was frustrated Daniel had yet to—what was the term Aiden always used?—―come out‖ to his family and explain that they were a couple. Things were far too complicated in the Amish world to toss tradition aside, like oat sheaves into a threshing machine. Daniel‘s family knew he was living in Montana, but Daniel never mentioned to them anything about Aiden Cermak living with him. Aiden‘s parents, visiting from Maryland for a week during the Fourth of July, had only stoked Aiden‘s desire for openness. Easier for him, having grown up in the modern East Coast suburbs. Aiden had been out to his parents since college. Daniel, unaccustomed to anyone knowing the intimate details of his life, had counted the days until Mr. and Mrs. Cermak‘s departure. If they had found their only son living with a man improper, they had done a wunderbar goot job concealing their uneasiness. Daniel could never invite his own family for a visit. Not in a million years. Couldn‘t imagine any of them being accepting of his lifestyle. He did miss them though. His large family was on the verge of expanding, with his mother expecting her eighth child any day. Maybe there would be a letter informing him of the baby‘s entrance into the world. He picked up his pace to the mailbox in anticipation of good news. But he slowed. Most likely someone would call him from the phone shack down the lane near the family farm. Such news warranted more than a sluggish post. Aiden had given him a much needed cell phone for his twenty-seventh birthday last week, and he‘d made his first call to his parents‘ Mennonite neighbors, where he had left them instructions to give the family his new number. No one had yet called him. Perhaps they were troubled he was embracing so many of the modern ways. No, impossible for him to tell his family he was gay and living with Aiden Cermak like any married couple. Twelve mailboxes formed a haphazard row in a turnoff by the junction with the paved county road. They rarely ran into their neighbors. Their cabins were spread out, about one hundred yards apiece, yet sometimes a chance encounter by the mailboxes would force a simple, uncertain greeting. Most of the people living up in the hills, away from the expanding city of Kalispell, were loners, aiming 2

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for a life apart from others. Just as good. Daniel sought refuge away from the prying eyes of society too. He found four pieces of mail. Two were from his Uncle Eldridge, with more orders for furniture, he speculated. Things were picking up from the lackluster past few years. He already had five pending orders for his handcrafted furniture he sold through a website set up and administered by his uncle‘s Englisher friend. Another was a water bill. He shook his head. Bills. No matter how semi-subsistent a person lived, few people could escape bills. The last piece of mail surprised him. There was no return address, but he recognized the sloppy handwriting. It was from his nineteen-year-old brother, Mark. Mark had never written him before. Only his mother and twentyfour-year-old sister, Elisabeth, a teacher back in Illinois, wrote him regularly, sometimes twice a week. Surely one of them would have written him about his new sibling‘s birth, not his brother. Curious, he opened the envelope with his thumb while he hiked back up the hill. The heat rising from the hot white gravel of the sloping lane stung his eyes, but the letter‘s contents smarted more. Worry and anxiety wrenched in his throat. He slipped a bit on the gravel, collected himself. He reread Mark‘s letter twice more before stopping at the bottom of the driveway. Tugging at his beard, he gazed at the log cabin, ironically built twenty years ago by the Amish from a nearby settlement. Made from the surrounding red cedar, the nine-hundred-square-foot cabin fit him and Aiden perfectly. Inside, Aiden was probably already setting the table, the spaghetti steaming on plates. Their lives were good. They had made a comfortable existence for themselves in the live-and-let-live culture, thirty miles south of Glacier National Park. No reason to invite any unnecessary trouble. He refolded the letter, slipped it into the envelope, and shoved it deep into the front pocket of his broadfall pants. Best to keep the letter from Aiden. No point letting him know Mark had written at all. Yes, that was the proper decision. For everyone. He would dispose of Mark‘s letter next chance.

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―JUST in time,‖ Aiden said when Daniel stepped inside the cabin. He hung his hat on the rack by the door and plopped down the mail on the end table by their secondhand sofa. Aiden stood in their no-frills kitchen shredding chilled lettuce into a bowl and adding diced tomatoes and cucumbers. ―Getting the salad ready now,‖ he said. ―Spaghetti and drinks are already on the table.‖ Watching Daniel sit at the white pine table he had made for Aiden three weeks after they had moved into their cabin, Aiden suppressed a groan. Daniel‘s strapping build and striking looks never failed to seize him, especially in his Amish clothes, which he had refused to completely forgo. He wore them mostly around the cabin, and sometimes to the lumber yard in Kalispell. Aiden supposed his sturdy, plain dress had a practicality for their life in the rugged Montana hills. A heavy sigh seemed to come from deep within Daniel‘s breast. Anxiety weighed on his strong, broad shoulders, Aiden judged. Many changes had come to his life the past few months, more than to Aiden. He had abandoned much of his world for Aiden—his way of life, his family, his friends, his community. Sometimes Aiden feared he‘d wake in his old bedroom at his parents‘ mid-century rancher back in southern Maryland, and Daniel and the Rocky Mountains would be gone. Nothing but an illusion. Or worse, he‘d come home from running errands down in the Valley to discover Daniel packing for Illinois, to return to his Amish roots—and leave him for good. Aiden wished he didn‘t have to push Daniel to be more open, but they had to face the issue sooner or later. He and Daniel were a couple, for what he assumed would be the rest of their lives, and he considered it foolish, even destructive, not to open up about their love for one another. He had wanted to convince Daniel that it might be easier to live candidly than to hide in a hermetic closet. But of course, coming out meant facing the notorious Amish shunning. Aiden knew Daniel was not ready for that. Daniel hadn‘t officially left the church, and said he didn‘t plan to, at least not for now. A wobbly bridge connected him to the small local Amish community in Rose Crossing, about five miles west of Kalispell. He never attended their church gmays but had gone to a few of the community‘s social gatherings. Daniel hadn‘t asked Aiden to go with 4

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him. Aiden feared the day the Rose Crossing bishop would show at their front door and ask Daniel to partake more in the community. Would Daniel oblige? If so, what would happen to Aiden? The little things he‘d learned about Daniel during their short time living together—shaving his upper lip in the chrome of the toaster, showering in lickety-split two minutes, always needing to do something with his hands—he found adorable. But his taciturn nature often left Aiden speculating about what thoughts churned inside his head. Daniel was a gift. Placed in his lap by unseen hands. Their discovery of each other in Glacier National Park two months ago had restored an awe for the world Aiden had thought he‘d lost. Things were good, but secrets still lurked between them. Sometimes getting Daniel to open up was like prying open a pesky pistachio nut. What was he thinking? Did he worry he had made the wrong choice when he had left Illinois and settled down with Aiden? Brushing aside his worries, Aiden carried the salad to the dining area on a breath of a smile. Once he sat, Daniel lowered his head and shut his eyes. Silent prayer. Daniel insisted on it before each meal. Although raised Baptist, Aiden and his family had never been big on family prayers, except at holiday meals. Agnostic most of his adult life, lately Aiden had become more open to the possibility God existed. He often wondered how his life in the Montana backcountry with Daniel could have come about without God‘s helping hand. He still had a hard time believing how they had run into each other in the middle of Glacier National Park in June, six months after Aiden had fled Illinois. They could no longer deny their love for each other. Daniel had even said it was ―God‘s will‖ that they should come together. ―I‘m good and hungry,‖ Daniel said once he lifted his head and opened his eyes. He reached for the parmesan cheese and sprinkled a healthy amount on top of his spaghetti. ―I put a little red wine in the sauce this time,‖ Aiden said. ―Hope you like it.‖ ―Looks for sure tasty. I smelled it near to the bottom of the lane.‖ ―Did we get anything interesting in the mail?‖ 5

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―Only the water bill,‖ Daniel said, twirling the noodles with his fork the way Aiden had taught him. ―And got more orders from Uncle Eldridge.‖ ―You‘re really starting to get your hands full with work.‖ ―Ya, I‘m thinking of letting Mark do some of it back home. He probably needs the money. He‘s gotten pretty good with his hands since helping build those houses that got destroyed by the storms down in Texas.‖ ―Oh, before I forget, the fridge doesn‘t seem to be keeping things cool again,‖ Aiden said, setting down the salad bowl after serving himself. ―You think you can tinker with it after supper?‖ ―For sure.‖ ―Kitchen window‘s stuck too,‖ Aiden said. ―Can‘t get it to go down.‖ ―Heat‘s likely expanding the wood,‖ Daniel said. ―I‘ll put some wax on the stiles; that should work.‖ Aiden valued having such a handyman around. He had a knack for understanding the anatomy of machines. Despite their eschewing modern conveniences, the Amish in general struck Aiden to be mechanical savants. During his parents‘ visit, Daniel had even made Aiden a homemade soda-making machine. Aiden assumed the time spent making it was Daniel‘s way to avoid his parents, but regardless, the contraption enthralled everyone. Daniel had fabricated the gadget from old plumbing pipes and plastic jugs. He‘d bought CO2 cartridges from a home store in the Valley and even retrofitted bottles for the nozzle attachment. Aiden often added his favorite lemon-lime flavoring. The carbonated beverages tasted more refreshing than any of the store-bought brands. ―I guess we can expect a lot of fixing up around here,‖ Daniel said. ―That‘s what you get for wanting to live in a log cabin in the woods.‖ ―I don‘t mind,‖ Aiden said. Daniel twirled his spaghetti. ―Anything else needing a look at?‖ ―Just one other thing.‖ ―Ya, what‘s that?‖ 6

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―How about letting me look at that piece of mail you‘re hiding in your pants pocket.‖ A noodle Daniel had been slurping left a sauce trail on his dark beard. Swallowing hard, he gaped at Aiden. ―What piece of mail?‖ Aiden held back a chuckle. ―You think you can fool me? I‘m a journalist, remember? Eyes like a hawk. I saw you from the kitchen window, stuffing an envelope in your pants pocket before coming up the driveway.‖ Daniel shook his head. ―It‘s nothing to concern you. Now go ahead and eat.‖ ―Is it something so bad you don‘t want me to see? What is it, an eviction notice?‖ ―No.‖ Daniel returned to his food. ―Nothing like that.‖ ―Daniel….‖ Grunting, Daniel laid aside his fork, wiped his mouth with his paper napkin, and took the mail from his pocket. ―Are you sure?‖ Aiden raised his eyebrows. ―You won‘t stop pestering me until I show you,‖ Daniel said. ―Might as well let you read it and get it over with. Won‘t make much difference anyway.‖ With unsteady hands, Aiden took the piece of mail from Daniel. He did not recognize the sloppy script on the envelope, but clearly it contained a letter of some kind, sent by someone who had little worries for formalities. He opened the letter and held it up enough to conceal the lower half of his face. He raised his eyebrows when he recognized the Pennsylvania German. Must be from someone back in Daniel‘s hometown of Henry. He scanned down to the signoff. Scrunching his forehead, he pondered why Daniel would want to conceal a letter from his brother Mark. Aiden understood sufficient textbook German to decipher most of the words and use common sense to fill in the gaps where he needed to.

Hello Brother,

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How are you in Montana? I picture you there living like Davy Crocket. The mountains are beautiful, yes? I wish I could be there too sometimes, especially with the craziness here. What craziness, you probably ask? Well, in addition to Mom about to bear a child any minute, I am to be married in December. Heidi and I decided it is about time. We have known each other a good year, and I am sure she is the one. We will both be baptized together in a few weeks. I know I am young, but I will be twenty by the time the wedding comes around. Mom is excited. She is already planning much of it. Remember how she fussed over your weddings with Esther and Tara? Heidi’s parents probably are learning of our marriage the same time as you. They will be coming up from Texas, along with dozens of other relatives, I am sure. I want you to be here too. I would like for you to sit next to me and be my best man. It will not be the same without you. Think about coming. Our wedding comes at a good time, near Christmas. There will be hardly any field work needing done, so we will be free. You can even stay on for the holiday with the family. Everyone will be happy you did. One other thing, if you know the whereabouts of Aiden Cermak, please ask him to come too. I would be pleased to see him here. It would mean much to me and Heidi. I told her how he saved our family last year and how we would all be dead, if not for him. A person cannot forget something like that. She is eager to meet him. His cell number is no longer tacked to the phone shack. If you know where he is, please invite him for me and Heidi. Dad has given us his blessing. Take care in Montana. Your Brother, Mark

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While Mark‘s rough script registered in Aiden‘s mind, he carefully refolded the letter in the envelope and placed it on the table beside his plate. ―So that‘s why you didn‘t want me to read Mark‘s letter?‖ he said, looking Daniel in his coffee-brown eyes. ―You didn‘t want me to know about him getting married?‖ Daniel remained silent. ―Why not?‖ ―There‘s no point,‖ Daniel said. ―We won‘t be going.‖ ―Why, because you worry your family will figure out we‘re living together? You‘d miss your own brother‘s wedding because of that?‖ ―It‘s more than that. Too far. Too much trouble. I can send him a gift and a note from here. He‘ll understand.‖ ―What if I said I didn‘t want to go? Would you change your mind and go then?‖ Quiet sheathed the supper table. Only the sound of Daniel‘s dinnerware striking his plate filled the silence. ―None of that matters,‖ he said, eyes fixed on his supper. ―Neither one of us are going. And that‘s that. You read the letter like you wanted. Let‘s leave it alone and say nothing more about the matter.‖

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Chapter Two

SWEAT dribbled down the sides of their faces. Rain on the lower elevations the night before had left the air humid on the west side of the Swan Range. Their sturdy backpacks gave their heavy boots extra impact on the soggy trail. About four thousand feet up, they came to a clearing overlooking the Flathead Valley. ―Look.‖ Aiden pointed to the northwest. ―You can see part of the street where the cabin is. Looks like a shoelace from here.‖ Daniel followed Aiden‘s gaze. The hemlocks and cottonwoods swept down like a green patchwork quilt under the tent of blue sky toward the lower hills, where faint streets and houses were visible through small clearings. Farther beyond, Kalispell and most of its sprawl crept along the Flathead River. Aiden slipped off his backpack and hiked down to a rock overlook. ―I‘m going to get a better view for some pictures,‖ he said. ―Be careful,‖ Daniel called to him. A rascally schoolboy whenever in the woods, that‘s how Aiden acted, Daniel thought, watching him scudder down the slope about twenty yards. Sometimes he was so full of energy, Daniel could barely keep up. He‘d leap among the trees like one of those mythical woodland creatures he‘d once read about in school. Endowed with more confidence than coordination, Aiden worried Daniel to distraction. He smiled despite himself. Out in the woods, away from life‘s urgencies, they had little interference from others. Daniel had wanted to escape the controversy of Mark‘s letter by getting them both out of the cabin. Two days of backpacking would make the perfect getaway. The 10

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day after he allowed Aiden to read the letter, he‘d suggested they head out to the Swan Range. Aiden had raced to get ready. Daniel knew how much Aiden loved to backpack. Backpacking brought out the best in them. They taught each other many skills in the backcountry. Aiden had more experience, but Daniel brought with him practical knowledge he‘d learned growing up on a labor-intensive farm. The most spectacular hiking in the country lay right outside their back door, and they took advantage of it often. They‘d left their Suburban at the trailhead, about ten miles from the cabin. The trail, one they‘d never hiked before, looped down through the Jewel Basin into Black Lake, where they would camp for two nights and afterward head back over the Range to their Chevy. Secluded and nestled among craggy, snow-covered peaks surrounding trout-laden lakes, the area was perfect for a weekend of exploring and fishing. Daniel wiped the sweat from under his straw hat. ―Let‘s get moving,‖ he said. ―We got a climb ahead of us yet, about halfway still to go.‖ ―Hold on, I want to take our picture together.‖ Aiden scurried up the slope and posed next to Daniel with his digital camera held out in front of their faces. Daniel thought he was silly, but when Aiden stood on his tiptoes and pressed his cheek against his, a chuckle fluttered from between his lips. ―Smile,‖ Aiden said, and snapped their picture. With Aiden‘s pack back on, they switchbacked to ridgeline. The moist earth relenting under his weight as he hiked up the mountain gave Daniel a sense of power he always savored. God frowned upon such haughtiness. But Daniel enjoyed the sensation nonetheless. For Daniel, backpacking provided a good means to stoke his male ego, which, most times, he had to keep in a tightly sealed box. His strict pacifist upbringing dictated no overt violence of any kind. Daniel, always conscious of this tenet of his faith (ingrained in him as much as the need for prayer before meals), had never struck another human being in his life. Other than hard work, roughhouse games, and being the decision makers in their households, Amish males had few avenues

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to let loose their testosterone. Hiking high above the world infused him with a sense of masculinity he valued. Three hours later, they crested one of the highest peaks in the Swan Range. Scattered snowdrifts dotted the nine-thousand-foot peak like dollops of marshmallow cream. Aiden snapped pictures of him and Daniel while they took turns standing in the snow. Aiden expressed amazement at standing in snow in August, when daytime temperatures on the peak hovered near seventy. His honey-brown eyes nearly popped from his head when Daniel told him some of the snow piles were leftovers from last winter. Resting their burning back muscles, they stripped off their packs and explored the high-country flora. Aiden, always inquisitive, wondered how things had evolved, or why God had made a certain plant the way He had. He took the long stem of the moonwort fern into his hands, gazing at its sublimity. He insisted Daniel sniff the calypso orchids spreading along the trail. They caressed the velvety softness of the club moss, examined the oyster mushrooms growing on the southfacing trunks of a cluster of birch trees. ―Nature‘s shelves,‖ Aiden quipped. In the woods, the world always seemed new to them, as if they were the first human beings, like Adam and Eve, to experience it. Blood pumped into their brains, eyes, and noses. Everything was fresh and new, created for their sole discovery. Aiden slipped on some scree but laughed it off. Daniel‘s heart somersaulted. ―Be careful,‖ he said. ―You have to watch your footing.‖ ―I‘m a klutz,‖ Aiden said. ―But don‘t worry so much. I can handle it.‖ ―You‘d save me a lot of fret if you‘d watch where you‘re going. Now let‘s get our packs back on and start moving.‖ They strapped on their packs and continued hiking upslope. A short distance along, Aiden stopped in his tracks. ―Wow! Take a look at that.‖ He squatted to examine bear tracks that crossed the muddy trail upslope into a patch of forest. He compared one paw print to his hand. ―Sure is big. Look, makes my hand look like a baby‘s. I‘m pretty sure it‘s a grizzly.‖ 12

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―How do you know?‖ Daniel tried to rein back the concern in his voice. ―You can see the claw marks. Black bears don‘t usually leave claw marks. And look how the toes are straight across, not curved like a black bear‘s.‖ Aiden shuffled along several of the tracks. ―How big do you think it is? Maybe a three hundred, four hundred pounder?‖ ―With a stride that wide, probably more,‖ Daniel said. ―Now don‘t go too far. You don‘t know where that bear is. Tracks look fresh.‖ ―I‘ve never seen a grizzly in the wild before, not even from a distance,‖ Aiden said. He wondered aloud how big the bear might be, if it were male or female, and if it was gorging before winter hibernation. ―You think it‘s close? Do you think we‘ll see it?‖ Daniel chuckled at Aiden‘s enthusiasm. ―Let‘s hope not,‖ he said, shaking his head. ―Now, we best get moving. I want to set up camp and maybe get some fishing in before dark.‖ They left the bear tracks and continued to switchback up the western slope to Black Lake. Their first semi-clear view of the glacier lakes that dotted the Jewel Basin appeared to the east. The high valley, speckled with pointy emerald peaks, covered several hundred square miles between the Swan Range to the west and the Hungry Horse Reservoir to the east. The trail leveled off through a dense grove of hemlocks. Daniel told Aiden he needed to stop and tie his boot laces. ―Don‘t go too far ahead,‖ he called. Once done, he went to catch up with Aiden, but he had disappeared. ―Aiden?‖ The thin ribbon of trail stretched a good fifty yards before taking a sharp bend. Aiden, despite being spry and quick, could not have hiked any farther ahead while Daniel had spent only a minute tying his boots. He followed along Aiden‘s boot prints, which turned into the forest— next to a set of bear tracks. Moisture sapped from Daniel‘s mouth. Inspecting the bear tracks more closely, he decided they‘d been left by the same bear that had left tracks in the meadow. Distinct claw marks, straight across, punctured the soil. He judged the grizzly had wandered through the forest, cut across the trail, turned, and headed back into the woods. Along the same path as Aiden‘s tracks. 13

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He hollered for Aiden again. No answer. Growing dizzy with worry, he peered around the massive tree trunks. Sunrays sliced through the lofty trees and cast a haze that made focusing difficult. Fatigued from the strenuous six-thousand-foot ascent, Daniel battled his weakening eyes. His legs wobbled. Suddenly the conifers of the forest turned ugly and sinister, like ogres. He and Aiden had spent hundreds of hours on the backcountry trails near their cabin and had yet to encounter a bear or cougar. Only a matter of time before they did. Most predators sought surprise attacks. That‘s what alarmed him. He recalled what a local old-timer had once told them: ―For every mile you hike in Montana, at least one bear will be spying you without you knowing it.‖ ―Aiden!‖ A rustling sound rooted his boots to the trail. He slowly rotated his shoulders. A red squirrel, foraging in the duff on the ground, chirped and snapped pine needles. Angry at the little pest, Daniel kicked dirt at it from the trail. The rodent scurried a few yards, began nibbling again under the duff. He was about to tramp through the grove of trees, unconcerned about cuts and scrapes or territorial beasts, shouting out Aiden‘s name, when something much larger crunched through the trees from his right. Panicked, he twisted to look. ―Hi,‖ Aiden said, grinning. Daniel, his heart thumping like a jaybird caught in a net, fumed. ―Where you been?‖ ―Nature called.‖ ―You shoulda told me. I had no idea where you went.‖ ―You were tying your boots,‖ Aiden said. ―I only went down that slope a bit. I was gone only a minute.‖ ―You were gone longer than that. Why didn‘t you answer me when I hollered for you?‖ ―You can‘t hear much in this dense forest.‖ ―I thought something happened to you. I thought maybe that bear got you.‖ Aiden snickered. ―Don‘t be silly.‖

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―Look.‖ Daniel pointed to the bear tracks next to Aiden‘s. ―That bear was near on your tail.‖ ―Wow.‖ Aiden gazed down at the tracks. ―He must‘ve been right on top of me without me even knowing. I wish I‘d seen him.‖ ―Next time, stay closer,‖ Daniel said. ―You worry too much.‖ ―Come on.‖ Daniel grabbed Aiden‘s hand and hauled him down the trail.

WITHIN an hour, they caught their first view of Black Lake, glistening under the afternoon sun like a jewel. No wonder the pioneers named the area Jewel Basin, Aiden mused as he and Daniel descended the treelined trail toward the lake. Difficult to believe such beauty graced their backyard. Shallow snowfields layered the meadows abutting the forest that bordered the lake. Shielded from the sun by the surrounding higher elevations and towering trees, the snowfields left indelible imprints of unpredictable weather patterns common to mountains. An August snowstorm might arise more quickly than the bend of bear grass in the wind. Aiden shrugged off his backpack and built a stocky snowman from one of the snowfields. In a much better humor after Aiden promised never to wander off again, Daniel snapped a few pictures while Aiden posed next to his snowy creation. ―An August snowman,‖ Aiden said, his cheeks stretching to what felt like his ears. ―Almost as out of place as we are in most of the world,‖ Daniel said. Aiden detected the regret in Daniel‘s ebony eyes the moment he‘d uttered those somber words. Rolling his eyes, Daniel smiled softly and reached for Aiden‘s hand. Fingers woven together, they hiked through the thick foliage and into a small clearing, where they spied the shores of Black Lake. After finding their designated campsite, they set up their two-man tent and made their way down to the lake to fill their water canisters. Aiden

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watched the muscles in Daniel‘s forearms flex as Daniel, squatting low, worked the pump of their portable filter. Aiden set down his canister and crouched next to him, draping an arm across his strapping back. Daniel did not flinch from Aiden‘s touch or shrug him off. In the woods, away from the judgmental glare of civilization, he always showed more comfort with open affection. Resting his arms a moment, Daniel looked from under his widebrimmed hat into Aiden‘s eyes. Daniel‘s thick, dark bangs curled and lay damp against his forehead. He pushed the brim of his straw hat higher on his head with the back of his hand and kissed Aiden on the nose. ―I wish you were as comfortable with me everywhere else as you are in the woods,‖ Aiden said. With his free hand, he let his fingertips break the surface of the lake. The water was refreshingly cool. He placed a droplet on Daniel‘s nose and pecked it off. ―Come on.‖ Daniel picked up the water canisters and headed back to camp. Aiden followed behind, his eyes stuck on his boyfriend‘s stalwart form. Only the massive hemlocks detracted from his muscular bulk. There must be some way to get him to loosen up outside of the rustic backcountry. Back at the campsite, the air grew chilly as the sun disappeared behind a band of fluffy clouds. Aiden hugged himself and watched Daniel rig a urethane cord between two hemlock branches. He would use it to suspend their backpacks away from opportunistic animals. Even in his gawky boots, his six-foot-four frame seemed to hover over the ground, easily gliding from spot to spot. With each move, Aiden watched his sinewy muscles flex under his hiking clothes. Daniel stopped and sniffed the air, perhaps checking the weather. Daniel would always be Amish, Aiden mulled, watching him use his farm-honed instincts to inspect his environment. No matter how far they lived from Henry, Illinois, his Amish ancestry would follow them. ―Well,‖ Daniel said, continuing with his toil. The veins on his neck were thick with blood. ―Are you going to do nothing but stare at me?‖

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―I was thinking about when we ran into each other in Glacier Park that first time,‖ Aiden said. ―Sometimes I still can‘t believe it.‖ ―God has unique ways about Him.‖ Daniel went back to tying a sturdy knot on the cord. Aiden studied him a moment more. ―I think we should talk,‖ he said. ―I mean really talk. It will make us both feel better.‖ Daniel stopped and looked at him. ―You mean it will make you feel better. Sometimes you get up on that soapbox and don‘t ever come down.‖ ―No, Daniel….‖ ―Aren‘t you satisfied with what you got? The cabin? The woods? Me?‖ ―I am, Daniel, I am. You‘re the best thing that‘s ever happened to me.‖ Aiden eased off. Perhaps he should furnish Daniel more time. They had only been boyfriends for barely three months. Give him time. Time to acclimate. Don‘t push him. Or he really might leave. Dejected and tired, Aiden slumped to his haunches and poked at the pine-needle-covered ground with a twig. A few minutes later, Daniel‘s strong hand pressed on his shoulder. ―Don‘t just sit there and sulk,‖ Daniel said, his tone genial. ―Make yourself useful and help me collect some firewood.‖ Night brought chilly breezes off the mountain peaks into the basin, so they put extra effort into searching for the highest quality wood for burning. They gathered several bushels of white pine and formed a fire teepee in the fire pit. After a supper of day-old pot roast baked in half-moon pies, a technique Aiden had learned by watching Daniel‘s mother prepare lunch with leftovers, they lit the kindling, and soon a crackling fire illuminated the small parcel of woods next to their tent. Staring into the flames while they sat on a fallen log, Aiden confronted a strange gloominess. The woods sometimes brought out pestering anxieties, even when he was with Daniel. Why did Daniel refuse to take him back home to Illinois? They couldn‘t possibly spend their entire lives together dodging family… dodging the entire world. When would they stop? Yet Aiden harbored worries of his own. Many 17

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uncertainties lurked in Illinois. Some that might keep Daniel from wanting to return to Montana. From wanting to return to him. He had always suspected Daniel had been tempted to stay in Henry during his latest trip home, soon after their chance meeting in Glacier National Park. Once he acknowledged that he and Aiden were meant to be together, Daniel had returned to break off his engagement to his fiancée, Tara Hostetler. Daniel had proposed to Tara when Aiden still lived in Henry, to screen his true feelings. While Daniel was gone, Aiden, holed up at an extended-stay motel in Whitefish, had spent his days fearing Daniel might never return. Yet the both of them going back to Illinois might be the milestone their relationship needed. Unfinished issues demanded resolving. For their relationship to evolve, both he and Daniel needed to cauterize those loose ends. But mostly, he wanted to see the Schrocks again. He always did think of them as his second family. He was touched that Mark had taken special care to invite him to his wedding. Aiden watched Daniel stoke the fire with a stick. Sparks sputtered and scattered through the conifer branches before disappearing into the black sky. He leaned into Daniel. Warmth from Daniel‘s body, from the campfire, and from the fire that burned within him mocked the mountain chill. He rested his hand on Daniel‘s knee. Almost subconsciously, he reached for Daniel through his hiking pants and held on. Daniel did not stir from his intimate touch or try to remove his hand. Instead, he held Aiden closer and tighter. Out in the woods, that was his way. Slowly, Aiden began to massage Daniel with his fingertips, over the nylon fabric, until he sensed they were both lulled into an almost trance-like calm. ―That‘s nice,‖ Daniel whispered. Aiden‘s heart began to beat erratically and burn inside his chest. His breathing came in short gasps. Daniel‘s soft smile faded. He gripped Aiden‘s shoulders and stared at him. Flames reflected in his dark eyes. His beard tightened as the shadows deepened around his mouth. ―Let‘s go into the tent,‖ he said. A tingle shot through Aiden‘s body. ―Yeah,‖ he said. ―Okay.‖ 18

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Daniel was rather inexperienced with making love to a man, but discovering what he preferred had not taken long. Aiden always submitted to his touch, his tongue, his kisses exploring parts of Aiden‘s body even Aiden had no idea could feel so good when tapped. Their sexual positions had been tacitly decided their first time making love in Aiden‘s tent, after they had met at Glacier in June. They rarely switched. Aiden enjoyed being close to such a powerful man, a man used to hard labor. Daniel‘s moustacheless beard rubbed his skin raw sometimes. But Aiden did not mind. Their lovemaking never entailed anything rough, but occasionally Daniel, when in an extra playful mood, teased him with spankings until Aiden would beg for him to stop. Aiden‘s struggles would send Daniel into fits of passion. Almost helpless, out of control, he and Aiden would form into oneness, enraptured with each other‘s corporeal certainty. Inhibitions tossed aside, far flung, their lovemaking natural and wild, like the Montana backcountry. Daniel, innocently masculine, often acted like a man-boy, needing to be led with gentle force, as if the consequences of his desires were out of his hands. Once taken where there was no turning back, he‘d be seized with the strength of his manliness, his cravings and needs propelling him like a raptor after its prey. Aiden always detected the passion in his ebony eyes, which would blaze like lignite whenever they made love. The way he would become, not a different man, but more of the man that already breathed inside him. Powerful. Vital. Lying in the sticky aftermath of their lovemaking, Aiden snuggled closer to Daniel inside their zero-degree bags, which they had zipped together. Aiden rested his head against Daniel‘s warm chest, rising and falling rhythmically. ―Promise me you‘ll never let me go,‖ Aiden whispered. ―I promise,‖ Daniel said, his voice grainy with slumber.

SUNLIGHT, casting a green glow inside their tent, woke Daniel. He unzipped the tent flap and sighed contentedly at the new day. The sun nudged above the eastern peaks, and the landscape sparkled from a 19

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freezing drizzle that had fallen during the morning twilight. Osprey yapped in the powder-blue sky. Euphoria lifted him as he slipped on his camp clothes and crawled out of the tent into the morning crispness. Lowering their backpacks from the tree, he had no doubt life was good. They had the entire two days together to do whatever they pleased, without scrutiny or harm from the outside world. Steam rose off the duff on the forest floor. Dreamlike haze enwrapped him. He carried the water filter to the lake, where a mule deer and her yearling lapped from the shore. Dragonflies skimmed across the water‘s surface. With his canister full, he headed back to camp. Aiden climbed out of the tent as Daniel was heating a pot of water over the butane stove. He stretched, his fingers reaching toward the crowns of the hemlocks. ―What‘s for breakfast?‖ he asked. ―Whatever you make,‖ Daniel said. ―Oatmeal, granola bars, and green tea, then,‖ Aiden said, chortling. ―Ach, I can see we‘ll need some fish to fill up on.‖ A posse of mule deer followed them down the trail to the lake, where they were going to spend the day fishing. Daniel fashioned homemade rods from sturdy sticks he found. He wrapped the fishing lines around the sticks, cut off about a foot with his Swiss knife at the end of the thinner parts of the sticks, tied tight knots with the lines, and pulled off about six feet, enough for the fish to have some give. This way, he‘d explained to Aiden many times, if the line breaks, an ample length will remain on the stick. It was the same kind of rod he‘d used as a boy. They had used the makeshift rods a few times before with moderate success. Their store-bought rods were better at catching the lake‘s hefty cutthroat trout, but they had elected to leave those behind. They baited the hooks with bread balls they‘d saved from last night‘s half-moon pie crust and tossed the lines into the water. Ripples radiated toward the shore. The mule deer stayed close by, nibbling at lichen around the alder bushes, while Daniel and Aiden sat on the sandy shore with their rods dangling over the water. Snow-dappled mountains surrounded them. Butterflies sunned on the sand. The Basin was quiet, except for the 20

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three or four golden eagles squawking overhead. Sparkling sun splashes on the other side of the lake caught Daniel‘s attention. ―Looks like some more campers,‖ he said. ―They‘re taking a morning bath.‖ Setting his rod on the shore, Aiden stood. ―I think I‘ll go for a swim too,‖ he said. He stripped naked and jumped in. ―Oh man, it‘s cold!‖ He shivered and laughed, hunkering down to his neck. ―It feels great though. Come on in, Daniel.‖ Daniel looked at Aiden through squinty eyes. He set his rod beside Aiden‘s. ―Might as well,‖ he said. ―Not having much luck with the fish.‖ Tossing off his straw hat, Daniel stripped naked and joined Aiden in the water. They kicked and splashed, wrestled, sun rays reflecting off their sleek shoulders, until Aiden fell into Daniel‘s arms. Aiden‘s wet upper body glistened. He was glossy and tanned from working shirtless all summer in their small vegetable and herb garden behind the cabin. His wet hair formed sleek black curls around his oval face. The water buoyed him closer. Daniel‘s beard dripped onto his chest. For what seemed quite a while, Aiden stared at him with his amber eyes. Daniel gazed back, their squinting eyes searching each other‘s thoughts. ―You really don‘t want to go to Mark‘s wedding?‖ Aiden said. ―I don‘t think it‘s a good idea,‖ Daniel said, wiping the water from Aiden‘s forehead and cheeks, his wet skin smooth like silk. He had guessed right. Aiden still stewed over going back to Illinois. ―I said that many times already.‖ ―But I hate thinking I‘m keeping you from your family, from seeing Mark get married.‖ ―You‘re not. Don‘t worry over it.‖ ―Are you afraid your family might figure us out?‖ ―That‘s only part of it.‖ ―What‘s the other part? Is it because of your father? I don‘t think you need to worry about him. After all, he said it was okay I could come. Maybe it‘s his way of apologizing for what he did last year.‖ 21

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Sighing, Daniel conceded to himself that Aiden had brought up one good point. Mark had written that their father had permitted him to invite Aiden to the wedding. Yet only last autumn had his father, pointblank, told Aiden he was no longer welcomed in their community. Why his father had cast him out nearly a year ago was still unclear. Aiden, visiting Henry to do research for an article, had saved their lives once. Daniel and his family had been on their way to church when Aiden had swerved his small car into the path of an oncoming drunk driver. If not for Aiden‘s quick thinking, they would all most certainly have been killed. Samuel had shown his indebtedness by inviting Aiden to stay at the family‘s oat farm. That‘s when Daniel‘s world had turned upside down. The Englisher had stolen his heart. His father must have had a good reason to turn on his own words a mere six months later. He had always feared his father might have suspected that he harbored strong feelings for the Englisher. Everyone knew they had become friends. A weekend wouldn‘t go by when Daniel hadn‘t driven his buggy to Aiden‘s bungalow to spend time with him, watching television or chatting. But each occasion his father had confronted him about Daniel‘s friendship with Aiden, the conversation had always centered on his father‘s fears that Daniel might leave the church. Never that Daniel might be… in love with Aiden. Was his father‘s allowing Aiden to the wedding some kind of trap? What for? He had no inkling they were living together as boyfriends. Daniel was certain on that. Before leaving Illinois, after breaking up with Tara, Daniel had told everyone he was moving to Montana to fulfill his dream of living alone in the woods. Long after Aiden had been booted from the community. How could anyone suspect they were together? Unlikely his father believed they were living as a couple and would invite Aiden back. Maybe Aiden was right. Maybe his father did want to apologize for his hasty dismissal of him last year. ―Daniel, I think we should go,‖ Aiden said, resting his hands on Daniel‘s shoulders. ―Just for a week. It‘s not that long. We‘ll both regret it if we don‘t. Mark wants you to sit next to him, to be his best man, his newehocker. How can you refuse him?‖

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Daniel blew a spray of water from his mouth, away from Aiden. He looked to the blue sky for da Hah‘s helping hand. ―There are many others in the community who can be Mark‘s newehocker.‖ ―It‘s because you‘re embarrassed about me,‖ Aiden said. ―Be honest.‖ Daniel remained quiet. He did not wish to discuss returning to Henry. But like with Mark‘s letter, Aiden would never let the issue rest until he caved. ―Ach, I give up,‖ he said. Aiden leaned in closer, his arms tightening around Daniel‘s neck. ―You mean it?‖ ―We‘ll go. We‘ll go.‖ ―Really? Both of us?‖ ―Ya, both of us. I know I‘ll regret it. But we‘ll go. Both of us.‖ Shuddering with a grin, Aiden sank down closer into Daniel. ―It‘ll be fine,‖ he said, laying his cheek on Daniel‘s shoulder. ―Don‘t worry, you‘ll see, everything‘ll be fine. We‘ll have a great trip. It‘ll be what we need. You‘ll see.‖ ―Ya, we‘ll see,‖ Daniel said as a breeze driving across the lake sent a chill down his nape.

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Chapter Three

THE gold and emerald splendor of the Flathead Valley autumn passed without Daniel going back on his word. A few times he had considered changing his mind, but he‘d decided against challenging Aiden. Although nearly a half foot shorter and fifty pounds lighter than Daniel, Aiden had a mental strength that could topple giants. His stubbornness was part of what attracted Daniel, but it also unnerved him. He‘d written Mark a short letter informing him he would be coming to his wedding, and that he would be bringing Aiden Cermak along too. He‘d offered no other details. If anyone asked where he‘d found Aiden, he‘d tell them the semi-truth. That Aiden lived in Montana too. No need to furnish the family with any notions to stoke their suspicions. Aiden might dislike the small fibs, but they‘d be for his own good. By mid-December, with a fresh snowfall layering the pineneedle-covered ground, they packed the Suburban for the three-day journey. They‘d decided to drive rather than take the Amtrak or fly. They had too many things to bring along. The Suburban needed highway mileage, anyhow. The rear of the truck was jammed with pine furniture Daniel had made—two night tables for Mark and his fiancée, a vegetable bin for his mother, and a toy chest for his new baby sister, Gretchen, born August twenty-eighth. Aiden had loaded the chest with an armful of stuffed animals he‘d bought at a toy store in Kalispell. With few words, they pulled down the steep, snowy lane before the sun rose above the peaks. Daniel, cautiously navigating the slick, windy roads into the Valley, suppressed the unease that regurgitated into his throat. Had he made the right decision in letting Aiden talk him

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into going to Mark‘s wedding? To bring Aiden back to everything that might be lurking in Henry? Aiden eased Daniel‘s unspoken anxiety by talking about how much he looked forward to seeing Henry and the Schrocks. Daniel knew Aiden had always been bothered that he hadn‘t said a proper goodbye to the family after his father had ousted him from the community. Aiden‘s naivety was impractical, but his optimistic eruptions temporarily took Daniel‘s mind off what he feared may lie ahead. The rising sun peeking above the mountains and spraying pink and gold over the snowy landscape also lifted Daniel‘s apprehensions. For a time. Three days later, on a gray Sunday afternoon, they rolled into central Illinois. The flatness of the land took Daniel by surprise. Aiden also expressed how different everything seemed after living in the mountains for six months. The gray and beige landscape stretched like a wet woolen blanket. Splatterings of red and orange from the winterberry shrubs along the slim creeks that crisscrossed under the road gave the only hint to nature‘s color wheel. Watching the familiar landscape loom closer, Daniel found himself speechless with nostalgia. A parade of thoughts marched through his mind at seeing the unmistakable signs of his Amish community: the legendary ―horse and buggy‖ signs warning motorists, windmills leaning near barns, laundry flapping in the wind. Grain elevators dotted the skyline. Columns of smoke from the compost piles blended with the ashen sky. The smell of livestock dung and burning compost seeped inside the truck. He was home. Frederick County bustled for such a small, rural community. Especially for a Sunday after the harvest season. Large semis careened down the narrow roads, shaking even the sturdy Suburban in their wakes. The parking lots of industry, where the knowledgeable and hardworking local labor pool, both Amish and English, produced wood beams, machine parts, and paint, were a quarter full of cars and pickup trucks. Farmers toiled outside, despite their fields lying mostly dormant. Livestock needed attending; equipment and barns needed mending.

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Daniel almost forgot his anxieties when he pulled down the blacktop lane where his family‘s farmhouse stood. Catching sight of the white picket fence—which still needed a good painting—the old brown barn, and the windmill that pumped water to the house, he clutched the steering wheel in anticipation of seeing his family again. Before he even pulled fully into the gravel driveway, his brothers and sisters streamed out of the white, two-story farmhouse. The kinner surrounded them as Daniel carefully maneuvered the Suburban to a stop. Boris, the family hound, greeted them too as he and Aiden climbed out of the truck. Sixteen-year-old Grace ran her bare hand over the smooth steel of the Suburban. The kinner were always taken by the sight of modern automobiles surrounded by their simple farm. ―It‘s so big,‖ Grace said, her pink face shining with awe under her white kapp. She wiped the grime from her hands. ―Did you drive this all the way from Montana?‖ ―Ya,‖ Daniel said, chuckling, ―almost two thousand miles.‖ He was surprised that twelve-year-old David, at the age when modern vehicles should have interested him, failed to show the same enthusiasm as his sister. A good few inches taller than the last time Daniel had seen him, David stood on the porch apart from the others, his arms locked across his dark winter coat, a frown pulling down the sides of his pallid face. ―I like it,‖ Grace said, still examining the truck. ―Even with all the dirt on it.‖ ―Ya, we‘ll have to get it washed, I figure, if it ever warms up enough.‖ Daniel‘s parents frowned upon the driving of English vehicles, and he was in no mood to face their inquisitions about his loyalty to the Amish church. He shifted attention away from the Suburban before they came out to greet him. ―Mom was right in her letters,‖ he said. ―You kinner sprouted like cabbage after a heavy rainstorm.‖ He stepped up to Mark, who had turned twenty only a few days before, and offered his hand. It was the first time the two had ever shaken each other‘s hands as men. Daniel congratulated him on his birthday and pending marriage and expressed amazement at how Mark‘s hair topped his head in the typical Amish bowl cut, no longer 26

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cut short for his rumspringa, like the last time he‘d seen him. Now, on the verge of marriage and already baptized into the church, he looked so mature, so much like an adult. ―Where‘s the bride-to-be?‖ Daniel asked. ―Heidi‘s been staying with her second cousin a few miles away the past month,‖ Mark said. ―She should be over later. Her parents are there too. They only came up from Texas yesterday.‖ ―So I‘m not that late?‖ ―Nay, you‘re right on time.‖ His heart thumped when he spotted eight-year-old Leah in her wheelchair. Powerless over her muscles from a rare genetic disorder, metachromatic leukodystrophy, Leah had been wheelchair-bound for a year. She looked a lot worse than when Daniel had last seen her in June. Ten-year-old Moriah, more watchful than a mother quail, pushed her down the porch ramp he and Mark had installed for Leah last spring. ―Hello, little Leah,‖ Daniel said, balancing in a squat to greet her. Her soft hand disappeared in his. Despite having almost no muscle coordination, her smile stretched near to her ears. ―She can barely speak anymore,‖ Moriah said matter-of-factly, ―but we think she can understand us.‖ His mother, her arms wrapped around the bib of her apron, descended from the house. ―Daniel, Daniel Schrock.‖ She stepped up to Daniel and embraced him. ―You‘re here. Ach, I didn‘t think you‘d come, I didn‘t.‖ ―Well, I made it.‖ ―How was the journey?‖ ―It was long, but lots of interesting things to see.‖ Rachel and Aiden‘s eyes met across the yellow lawn. At first, Rachel seemed unsure how to approach him. Then, walking up to him, she smiled broadly and embraced him. ―It‘s good to see you, Aiden Cermak.‖ ―It‘s been too long,‖ Aiden said, flushing. Daniel‘s father strolled out of the barn next, wiping his hands on the sides of his broadfall pants. He wore a large grin on his face. 27

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―Hello,‖ he said. ―Hello, Dad.‖ The two shook hands. ―Good to see you.‖ Samuel‘s eyes narrowed when he spotted the truck parked in the driveway. ―What‘s this beast?‖ His cheeks heating, Daniel said, ―That‘s my truck I drove in from Montana.‖ ―It‘s bigger than the Belgians,‖ his father said. ―What‘s the horsepower of this contraption?‖ ―Over three hundred,‖ Daniel said. Finally, after scrutinizing the truck like he would a horse at auction, Samuel turned to Aiden. The patriarch stroked his long, grizzled beard. Aiden rocked from heel to toe, his hands in his coat pockets. Daniel imagined how awkward Aiden must feel, facing the man who‘d banished him from the community a year ago. But Aiden had insisted on coming back to Illinois. He must face Samuel and brave the consequences. After what seemed a penetrating stalemate, Samuel smiled. The discomfort of how things had been left last Thanksgiving seemed to evaporate into the pale sky. Daniel sighed with a grin when the two men grasped each other‘s hands firmly. Daniel wanted to shift attention away from Aiden now that everyone had had their chance to greet him. ―Feels like it might make snow,‖ he said. ―The English weather reports say we‘ll get the first major snowfall of the season tonight,‖ Rachel said. ―Four inches.‖ ―We don‘t need the English to tell us that,‖ Samuel said. ―You can taste the snow on your tongue.‖ Samuel stuck out his tongue and pointed it toward the west, where the sky churned with dark-gray clouds. The children giggled at their father‘s silly behavior. Except young David, who still stood on the porch, staring at the group as if they were strangers. ―Let‘s get your suitcases into the house,‖ Samuel said to Daniel. ―I told you, Samuel,‖ Rachel said. ―He explained in one of his letters he‘s staying at a bed and breakfast.‖

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―A bed and breakfast?‖ Samuel raised his grizzly eyebrows at Daniel. ―You‘ll have too many guests here as it is,‖ Daniel said. ―What with the wedding, you won‘t need any more hassles.‖ ―And Aiden?‖ Samuel asked. ―Where will he be staying?‖ ―Same as me.‖ Daniel did not hesitate to answer truthfully. His family—and the entire community, no doubt—would find out soon enough who was staying where for Mark‘s wedding. In this case, fudging the truth would be pointless. ―We‘re staying at the Harvest Sunrise Inn Bed and Breakfast.‖ ―Ach.‖ Samuel adjusted his eyeglasses over his bulbous nose. ―Must be crowded there, more than here. Many of the friends and relatives are staying there, all over yet.‖ ―So I discovered when I made reservations last week,‖ Daniel said. Samuel folded his arms across his heavy black jacket and stared at his son down his lumpy nose. ―Where did you and Aiden run into each other?‖ ―He‘s living out in Montana,‖ Daniel said, ―like I wrote.‖ Samuel narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. ―That‘s quite a coincidence.‖ ―Ya, for sure… for sure it is.‖ He caught a glimpse of Aiden leaning over to play with Leah. His face seemed to tighten with what looked like annoyance when Daniel uttered his first fib, one that would become a string of many, Daniel was sure. Aiden looked even a bit betrayed. Samuel did not have a chance to say more, for Mark, at that opportune moment, grabbed Daniel‘s arm and ushered him toward the house. ―Let Daniel meet baby Gretchen, Dad. Elisabeth‘s inside with her,‖ he said to Daniel. ―They can‘t wait to see you.‖ With the family heading for the house, Mark and Daniel moseyed behind. Mark expressed his gratitude again that Daniel had made it home for his and Heidi‘s wedding. ―I‘m glad I was able to come,‖ Daniel said.

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―It‘s good you brought Aiden too.‖ Mark did not request specifics of how or where Daniel had found him. He simply seemed happy both of them were there. ―It was no trouble,‖ Daniel said. ―Ach, danke for tossing me some of your woodwork,‖ Mark added. ―It‘s for sure coming in handy with extra money.‖ ―I‘m glad I been able to do it,‖ Daniel said. ―Things are for sure picking up. We got more orders in the past few months than almost all of last year.‖ ―Even the warehouse items were sold off,‖ Mark said. ―We got lots of money from that, and we won‘t have to worry about renting out the space no more.‖ ―Ya, Mom wrote me about that. That‘s goot.‖ ―I‘m working part time at the English wooden beam manufacturer too.‖ Mark lifted his head to his big bruder with a toothy grin. ―So far it‘s been a good job.‖ Daniel recalled his mother mentioning in one of her letters Mark had started working there. ―You like it? Not too restrictive?‖ ―It can be monotonous, but I like the money.‖ ―Is that all that‘s important, money?‖ ―When you‘re young with a new wife and maybe a baby soon, it is,‖ Mark said. ―I still have to save up to buy some land so Heidi and me can build our own home. Living with Mom and Dad‘ll be a good way to save, but we don‘t want to overstay.‖ Daniel nodded. He understood as well as anyone the difficulties of raising a family. He had been a young husband once, with a baby boy, and had endured the aches of worrying about keeping them well cared for. So much effort. But what had it all been for? Esther and Zachariah had been taken from him less than a year after he and Esther had wed, months before Aiden Cermak had ever driven into his world. Had it really all been God‘s will? He shook off his moody self-reflection and said, ―Wood beam manufacturer is better than the last place you worked, I figure.‖ They both shared a knowing, awkward chuckle. Mark had once worked for a stint at the infamous adult superstore off nearby I-57, until 30

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Daniel and Aiden had discovered him sneaking out of the place late one night last summer. Daniel had nearly wrestled him to the ground, forcing Mark to explain himself. Mark had confessed he was at the store as an employee since the owners paid handsomely. Furious, Daniel had made him promise never to step foot in that place again. In exchange, Daniel had kept his word to keep the ordeal between them. He had never gone back on his pledge. ―That seems so long ago, what with me about to get married,‖ Mark said, flushing. ―I was a shussly youth, I guess.‖ ―Ya, I guess we were all silly youth once.‖ Daniel and Mark stepped inside the warm house filled with the smells of home cooking. Commotion in the household forced the two brothers to break off their intimate conversation. Daniel‘s twenty-four-year-old sister, Elisabeth, lifted baby Gretchen from an oak bassinet in the kitchen near the busy gas ovens and laid her sleeping form in Daniel‘s shaky arms. Nearly two years had passed since he‘d last held his baby son, the morning before he and Esther had been killed. ―She‘s an August baby,‖ Elisabeth said, grinning under her kapp at the eldest and youngest of her siblings. ―Like you, Daniel.‖ Gazing at his helpless baby sister snoozing in his arms, Daniel, at that moment, believed family was as good as it got.

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Chapter Four

THE Harvest Sunrise Inn Bed and Breakfast was a converted Victorian farmhouse on the southern outskirts of Henry. A sense of repression settled over Aiden as he and Daniel stepped inside the lobby. Decorated with rich, ornate furnishings, the inn contrasted sharply with the surrounding simple farmland. But the unease pestering him came more from Daniel than the old house itself. While Daniel checked in at the front desk, Aiden worried Daniel was embarrassed about their sharing a room together. The innkeeper seemed unconcerned. With a kindly smile on his chubby face, he handed them a key and showed them the way to their room on the first floor. The first things Aiden noticed were the two separate twin beds. ―Was this the only room they had when you made reservations?‖ Aiden asked once the innkeeper had left. Daniel ignored his question. He tossed his suitcase onto one of the beds and began stuffing his clothes into the drawers of a cherry dresser. Sachets of clover- and vanilla-scented potpourri lay on the pillows. Bowtie quilts were tri-folded at the bottom of each of the beds. Aiden thought it was all very quaint, perhaps too quaint for him and Daniel. Aiden understood how awkward staying at the Schrocks‘ would‘ve been, but he wondered if Daniel had purposely reserved a room with two beds instead of one. ―Maybe we can push the beds together,‖ Aiden said, letting his laptop case slide off his arm onto the other bed. He set his black duffel bag, with the wide turquoise stripe that always seemed to annoy Daniel, on the twill carpet. 32

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―We should leave the beds as they are,‖ Daniel said after a pause. ―I‘m sure the innkeepers won‘t mind,‖ Aiden said. ―We can move them apart before we check out next week.‖ Daniel completed unpacking. ―That won‘t be a good idea.‖ Aiden watched Daniel yank off his boots and nudge them against the canary yellow wall by the door. When he failed to say anything further, Aiden said, ―Daniel, I want you to promise me you won‘t brush me aside during our stay here.‖ Without looking at him, Daniel said, ―What do you mean, brush you aside? If you‘re expecting me, in front of everyone, to take you in my arms and—‖ ―No, I don‘t expect that, Daniel. But, please, don‘t ignore me. Don‘t treat me like I don‘t exist.‖ ―Of course I wouldn‘t do that.‖ Aiden felt achy and tired. The long three-day journey from Montana had sapped his energy. They had driven near straight through, without stopping for sightseeing. Each morning by six, they were on the road. Snow through much of Minnesota and Iowa had made traveling slow and stressful. Supper with the Schrocks had gone smoothly enough. There was so much commotion in the house with preparations for Mark‘s wedding, the baby, and visiting relatives that little focus seemed to be on him. He had been both relieved and disillusioned. Had he expected more? When Daniel had presented the family with the furniture Daniel had crafted without saying they were from the both of them, including the stuffed animals Aiden had filled Gretchen‘s toy chest with, Aiden had flinched. Already he felt pushed into the background, like the barelimbed elms and hickories of the harsh winter landscape. One concession was Samuel. He‘d seemed sincerely repentant for having tossed Aiden out of Henry last year. Aiden was glad they‘d put past unpleasantness aside, at least tacitly. Maybe the Amish do have a sense of forgiveness others lacked, Aiden considered. He tried to gather contentment from that thought while he unpacked in silence. He wanted to mention his musings to Daniel but decided not to. Daniel‘s brusque expression suggested he carried his own worrisome 33

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notions on his shoulders. Instead, Aiden edged behind Daniel while he hung his Sunday Amish suit in a closet. Daniel‘s muscles twitched under Aiden‘s kneading fingers. Daniel relaxed and roved around his neck. Aiden hoped massaging him would assuage any hurt between them. ―How‘s that?‖ ―Feels good,‖ Daniel said. Aiden walked his fingers down the side of Daniel‘s neck and reached his hand over Daniel‘s shirt, the one Aiden had bought for his birthday in August, and began unfastening the buttons. Daniel‘s firm pectoral muscles twitched. He caressed his rippling abdominal muscles, naturally built from years of manual labor. He stood on his toes and swiped his tongue across Daniel‘s ear. ―Best be careful. People might hear,‖ Daniel said. ―I got relatives staying here.‖ ―No one will hear behind these old, sturdy walls.‖ ―Still not proper, not here.‖ Aiden sighed. ―You know, Daniel, I don‘t like hiding things.‖ ―Hiding?‖ Daniel nudged Aiden‘s hand from his chest, sat on the edge of the twin bed he had claimed, and rebuttoned his shirt. ―What are we hiding?‖ ―We‘re hiding who we are.‖ ―Aiden, not that again.‖ ―I know how hard coming out to your family would be. But how fair is it to pretend, to either of us, to go on hiding like this? How long will we have to do it?‖ ―You act like you‘re the only one who never hides things.‖ Daniel lay back on his bed and eyed Aiden. ―You‘re not always so open.‖ Aiden plopped down on the quilt beside him. ―What do you mean? When have I ever hidden anything?‖ ―What about those threatening messages you got last year, when you still lived in Henry?‖ Daniel said. ―You never told me anything about those until after we ran into each other in Glacier. You kept that from me for how long?‖

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Aiden rolled to his back and stared at the ceiling. He‘d been leery when he‘d first told Daniel about those threats. Shortly after Aiden had saved the Schrocks from the drunk driver, he had accepted a position with The Henry Blade, the town‘s only newspaper. While there, he uncovered the suicide of a seventeen-year-old Amish youth from eight years before, Daniel‘s second cousin, Kyle Yoder. His subsequent investigation into the unusual death led Aiden to believe he had been murdered. Pressure from his boss about the investigation forced Aiden to resign from the newspaper. But not before he received three mysterious threats. He guessed the threats most likely stemmed from his investigation into Kyle‘s death. Either that or someone in the community suspected Aiden of being gay and resented him. After their unexpected encounter at Glacier National Park in June, Aiden had shown Daniel the stored pictures of the threats he‘d taken with his digital camera. The pumpkin someone had smashed against his bungalow and the message someone had spray painted in red block lettering on his front door: GET OUT OF TOWN. And there was the note someone had left in his mailbox, with the same threatening message as the one on his door, punctuated with the homophobic, although archaic, name-calling ―to the Sodomite.‖ In typical Amish fashion, Daniel had remained impassive while he examined the photos. When he finished, he handed Aiden the camera without a word. But the mechanisms in Daniel‘s mind were churning. His temples crinkled with thick, twine-like veins, his eyebrows fused together. And the incessant beard tugging. Ultimately, he seemed to want to forget Aiden had ever mentioned it. Bury another ugly reality under a mound of dirt. And in that case, Aiden agreed. ―Totally different situation,‖ Aiden said, leaning on his elbow to stare at Daniel‘s tense face. ―We weren‘t even together then. Besides, you already had enough burdens, with me digging up Kyle‘s death. I decided to show you those stupid threats so many months later because… well, I didn‘t want any secrets between us. There wasn‘t anything you could‘ve done about it, anyway.‖

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Daniel glared at Aiden. ―There was a lot I coulda done.‖ He pushed himself off the bed and, grabbing a handful of sleeping clothes from the dresser, marched into the bathroom.

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Chapter Five

AIDEN gazed out of the window above his bed as the sunlight lifted over the distant creek. About four inches of snow had fallen overnight and softened the harsh landscape. Shades of pink and orange dusted the snowy field. A sense of newness filled him. The stress from yesterday seemed to have lifted. He let the curtain dangle back into place and turned to Daniel, who, at that moment, had stepped out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. ―Should we eat breakfast here?‖ Aiden slumped back under the covers and shivered with contentment. ―It is called a bed and breakfast, after all.‖ ―I think we should head over to the farm.‖ Daniel unraveled the towel and dried his hair. Quivering with anticipation, Aiden watched his boyfriend‘s muscular arms work the towel over his bowl cut. Tall and brawny, Daniel‘s nakedness always sent bolts of fire through Aiden. He liked that their modesty had ebbed. ―You want to go right now?‖ Aiden smiled, widening his eyes. ―Or you want to hang out here a while longer.‖ ―Best we go.‖ ―I thought the Amish slept in a little later in the winter,‖ Aiden said. ―Not much later,‖ Daniel said. ―There‘re still chores to get done, animals to care for.‖ ―I‘m sure they‘ll understand if we show up a little later.‖ Daniel was not always swift catching on to Aiden‘s flirting. Often, Aiden would have to stroke him with more forwardness. Throwing back the bedcovers, he exposed his morning arousal. 37

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Daniel came up to him, bent his head down, kissed him on the lips. His whiskers, still damp from his shower, tickled Aiden‘s chin. ―We best get going,‖ he said. ―They‘ll most likely be waiting for us. Breakfast was probably eaten an hour ago.‖ Aiden reached for Daniel, whose dark pubic hairs were coarse and wet. ―Then they won‘t miss us.‖ Daniel pushed Aiden‘s hand away. ―Stop being so shussly and get dressed.‖ He moved to his side of the room and yanked clothes from a drawer with a rush of frustration. ―It was your idea to come back here. We might as well be useful. For sure they‘ll want the extra hands setting up for the wedding. And best we keep the Suburban here. We can walk to the farm.‖ ―Walk? Why?‖ ―It‘s not proper to be parking that mammoth vehicle in front of the farm, especially with all those guests coming.‖ He pulled on his underwear and broadfall pants. ―Mom and Dad were eyeing it out the window last night like it was some kind of monster. The farm‘s only a few short miles from here. We‘re used to hiking. Now get dressed.‖ At the cabin, Aiden had never worried much about Daniel‘s wearing his Old Order Amish clothes (Aiden thought he looked sexy in them), but now, as Daniel dressed in the clothes his mother had probably made for him years ago, the same pestering lump rose to his throat. Daniel fastened the hook-and-eyes on his cornflower-blue collarless shirt, tucked in the hem, and strapped on his suspenders, the way he must‘ve done a million times before. Sighing, Aiden dragged himself out of bed and went about dressing. The sense of lightness and warmth he‘d welcomed a moment ago while staring out the window at the wintry landscape suddenly felt like a weighty block of ice on his chest.

DRESSED in brown clogs and a black winter coat, a pretty young woman strolled out of the house to greet Aiden and Daniel as they walked up the snowy driveway. Mark, hands deep in pants pockets, followed behind, smiling like someone with a happy secret. 38

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―This is Heidi Miller,‖ he said. ―She‘s going to be my wife.‖ Pink cheeked, with winterberry blonde tresses falling from the front of her white kapp, Heidi looked all freshness, like a bride-to-be should. But her demeanor, confident for a young Amish woman, surprised Aiden. She thrust her hand to Daniel. ―You must be Mark‘s brother, Daniel. I‘m so glad to meet you. Sorry I wasn‘t here to welcome you yesterday, but we had so many other relatives to visit.‖ Aiden inwardly giggled, watching Daniel squirm at Heidi‘s unexpected gregarious nature. ―And you‘re Aiden.‖ She turned her hand to Aiden. ―You‘re the one who saved the Schrocks when you drove your car in the path of that drunk driver. Mark told me all about it.‖ Aiden blushed. ―It wasn‘t that much, really, anyone would‘ve done it.‖ ―Ach, everybody says things like that, but it‘s never true.‖ Mark kicked at the snow and torqued his shoulders. ―Heidi says there‘s a fine line between being humble and outright lying.‖ Everyone shared a good-natured chuckle. ―That‘s me,‖ Heidi said. ―Always with the philosophy.‖ ―Where‘s your car?‖ Mark asked, glancing between Aiden‘s and Daniel‘s shoulders. ―Back at the inn.‖ Daniel seemed to stiffen. ―Didn‘t want to drive it in the snow.‖ ―That beast of burden?‖ Mark‘s brown eyes popped. ―For sure that thing can handle this little bit of snow on flat farm roads, if you drive it around Montana.‖ ―Best we leave it,‖ Daniel murmured. ―Ach, thank you for the gift of the furniture,‖ Heidi said, grinning so widely Aiden wondered if her apple cheeks might knock off her kapp. ―The night tables are wunderbar.‖ ―Du wilcom,‖ Daniel said. ―But we best get inside. It‘s cold out. Mark, you don‘t have a coat, and Heidi, you‘re not wearing any boots.‖ ―I‘m still not used to dressing for this cold weather.‖ Heidi cupped her hands over her mouth. ―Down in Corpus Christi it never gets this cold. I haven‘t seen so much snow in my life. I guess I‘ll have 39

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to get used to it, living here. Mrs. Schrock was so kind to make me this winter coat.‖ ―I bet it‘s so new for you,‖ Aiden said, remembering Mark had met Heidi last December while on rumspringa at Texas‘s Mustang Island, near where Heidi lived with her parents in a fledgling Amish settlement. ―New and exciting, for sure,‖ she said. ―But Daniel‘s right. Let‘s get inside. You both can meet my parents.‖

MR. AND MRS. MILLER were seated at the large oak kitchen table under the soft glow of a hanging lantern, sipping stovetop-brewed coffee, when Aiden and Daniel were introduced to them. Daniel judged them to be pleasant, but he was suspicious neither was helping with the kitchen work. His mother kneaded dough. Grace was hand-washing dishes at the sink. Elisabeth sat at the table cradling Gretchen. Heidi‘s two aunts, who had been briefly introduced to him last night when they‘d stopped by for a visit, were at the counter cutting celery stalks and onions. ―Where‘s Dad?‖ he asked, glancing about. ―Basement, doing watch repair,‖ Rachel said. His mother looked exhausted. Her hair fell in clumps from under her kapp, and her eyes burned red. The kitchen, usually scrubbed spotless after breakfast, was in a muddle. A mess of pots and pans were stacked to the side of the sink, opened bags of flour and sugar and dirtied mixing bowls covered the counter, canned goods in boxes filled an entire corner of the wood floor. ―Looks like you been keeping busy,‖ he said, taking a seat on a bench at the table. ―Ya, been baking nonstop for Mark and Heidi‘s wedding, on top of everything else,‖ Rachel said. ―Hardest part is keeping up with orders for my baked and canned goods.‖ ―Business picking up?‖ Daniel said. ―Ya, for sure,‖ Rachel said. ―Been keeping us busy since summer.‖ 40

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―Things seem to be picking up everywhere,‖ Mr. Miller said. ―We got so many orders for houses lately, we been turning work away.‖ The Millers, like Daniel, made their living woodworking, but instead of building furniture, they built houses along Texas‘s Gulf shore and refurbished those damaged in the storms. Daniel and Mr. Miller talked shop while Rachel fried Aiden and Daniel ―dippy eggs‖ and bacon. ―How do you like your room at the inn, Aiden?‖ Rachel asked, carrying over a cast-iron pan sizzling with fried eggs and bacon. Using a spatula, she plated their breakfasts. ―It‘s nice,‖ Aiden said. ―Room has a good view of the farmland and the creek.‖ ―And Daniel, how do you like your room?‖ Aiden and Daniel swapped glances across the table. Daniel tried to will the blood from heating his cheeks. He knew how much Aiden hated being forced to lie. Daniel didn‘t like fibbing much either. Surely Aiden understood they were Amish. Things weren‘t like with Aiden‘s parents. With them the words had flowed like rain. But how long could they hide the truth from Daniel‘s family? At some point, a resolution had to be made. Snubbing that thought, Daniel said, ―I like my room fine.‖ ―Adel and Sam are staying at the Harvest Sunrise,‖ one of Heidi‘s aunts said over her shoulder as she sliced into a new bushel of celery. ―Is it nice, like folks say? I haven‘t yet seen them to ask.‖ ―It‘s very nice.‖ Aiden lowered his eyes to his plate and nudged around his fried eggs with his fork. ―I hear the place is haunted,‖ Grace said, dipping a platter in and out of the sudsy water. ―Grace,‖ Rachel breathed, ―the things you say sometimes.‖ ―But Mom, I‘m only repeating what I heard. Folks say the original owner, some Englisher farmer from a hundred years ago, still walks the halls. Some say they seen him.‖ ―No one needs to hear about ghosts and hauntings, Grace. Now get back to the dishwashing so you can help me with the baking.‖

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―Where‘re the relatives?‖ Daniel wanted to change the topic of where he and Aiden were staying. He forked a bite of egg into his mouth and chewed slowly. Rachel sat at the table with a heavy sigh and mopped her forehead with the back of her flour-speckled hand. ―Your Aunt Frieda should be here early this afternoon, if the bus from Indiana doesn‘t get held up in Chicago, like it did last time she came for a visit. We‘re expecting your Uncle Abraham and Uncle Wayne tomorrow. Joe Karpin‘s daughter‘ll be picking them up from the train depot. Everyone else is already here, scattered about.‖ ―Why Joe Karpin‘s daughter?‖ Daniel wondered why Joe Karpin, the Englishman who hauled the Amish around in his fifteen-seat van for a small fee, wasn‘t picking up his uncles. ―Him and Mrs. Karpin are wintering down south somewhere. His daughter‘s filling in for him.‖ ―Sounds like you‘ll have a full house, for sure,‖ Daniel said. He hadn‘t remembered so many relatives traveling to his and Esther‘s wedding. ―Where‘re you putting them all?‖ Rachel sighed again. ―Aunt Frieda‘s staying in Grace and Moriah‘s room. The girls‘ll find a place to sleep with Elisabeth. David‘s moving in with Mark so your uncles can stay in his room with the two beds. Ach, I‘ll be glad when the place clears out.‖ They talked about the wedding plans, relatives they hadn‘t seen in many years, the difficulty of traveling long distances in winter. The Millers kept switching to Pennsylvania German, although the others spoke mostly in English. Daniel had no idea if the Millers knew how the family had become acquainted with Aiden, but he assumed Heidi, who had been clearly thrilled with Aiden‘s story of how he saved the Schrocks, had filled them in. Aiden looked relieved when Moriah asked him to see the quilt she was working on in Leah‘s bedroom. Recently, the family had converted the small sewing room into a makeshift bedroom for Leah so she‘d be closer to Rachel and Samuel, since her wheelchair made getting upstairs near impossible. With Aiden safely away from the uptight kitchen table, Daniel, grabbing his coat and hat, took the opportunity to duck out to the barn and check on the horses. 42

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Living in Montana, Daniel missed his favorite buggy horses, especially Gertrude. He‘d won her at auction last summer. Seemed from another life. Another man. He shook his head, remembering how his mother had forced him to take along Aiden, still staying with them at the farm after he‘d saved the family. He‘d refused to confess to himself at the time, but Aiden had already grabbed his heart. He‘d captivated Daniel with his curly black hair, golden eyes, and heartfelt gumption. Difficult to believe he‘d first met Aiden a mere year and a half ago. Never in a million years had he foreseen their lives would become so entwined. He stopped short when he came across David, raking soiled hay from Gertrude‘s stall. ―Hello,‖ Daniel said. ―Good to bump into you. We hadn‘t much time for talking. You been hiding away since I got here.‖ ―What‘s to talk about?‖ David said, clutching onto the rake. His brow was corrugated with deep wrinkles for such a young boy, and his mouth was puckered into a rigid hole. David‘s behavior hadn‘t changed since yesterday. He was still angry at something. But at what? Even in the dull light of the barn, his eyes no longer flashed like bright gray marbles but seemed darker, opaque, and without sheen. Anger clouded those charcoal eyes. How long had such harshness stewed inside his growing frame? Had it existed even before Daniel had moved to Montana, he wondered as he dug a curry brush from a bin by the horse stalls. Was his orneriness the typical brooding of a hatchling adolescent, or did he suspect something he disliked about Daniel? Something about him and Aiden? David was always astute, too astute for the boy‘s own good. Pulling the curry brush strap over his hand and stepping up to Gertrude, Daniel said, ―I was interested in how things been for you. Anything new going on? What do you think of our baby sister?‖ ―She‘s a baby,‖ David mumbled. ―There‘s nothing to think about. She sleeps all the time and dirties up lots of diapers. That‘s what babies do.‖ Daniel chuckled despite himself. ―Ya, I figure that‘s the truth.‖

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The mare‘s thick black coat rippled under the touch of the curry brush‘s rubber bristles. Gertrude, like the other horses, had grown a long winter coat since Daniel had last seen her in the summer, and extra care was needed to keep her hair untangled and clean. ―I can see you been taking good care of the horses,‖ he said to David. ―They look healthy and happy. I thank you.‖ ―Nothing to thank me about,‖ David said. ―It‘s my job to care for the animals.‖ ―Good you take to it so diligent. You show a lot of maturity for a twelve-year-old.‖ Daniel hoped to soften whatever hardness roosted inside his youngest brother. Chiseling away at rosewood fared easier. Being the middle child of a large family never came easy, Daniel guessed. With a new baby sister and Daniel having moved clear across the country, chores probably had piled up for him. Unless David‘s sour temper was the result of something else. ―Nobody likes dirty choring,‖ Daniel said when David remained silent. ―Mom tells me in her letters you do it with hardly any complaint, and that‘s goot.‖ ―It‘s no big deal,‖ David murmured. ―Don‘t underestimate yourself, David. You‘re good to have around the farm.‖ David glared at him. ―Someone‘s got to be, right? Now, if you don‘t mind, I got more choring to do in the buggy shed.‖ He dropped his rake to the ground and stomped out of the stall. Shaking his head, Daniel worried over his little brother‘s testy behavior. He recalled how restless he‘d been at David‘s age, yet there seemed more to it. Probably wasn‘t such a good idea to bring Aiden here, Daniel worried again, his head still shaking in dismay while he focused on brushing Gertrude. Too much raw emotion lingered at the farmhouse. Too many hidden threats still haunting Frederick County. ―You look to be in deep thoughts.‖ Daniel looked up to find his father standing outside Gertrude‘s stall. ―Ach, hello, Dad. I thought you were in the basement doing watch repair.‖ 44

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―Ya, but I needed some fresh air.‖ Daniel sniggered. ―In the barn?‖ ―Better than the house.‖ ―Too many guests?‖ ―Ya, and it‘s only going to get worse,‖ Samuel said. ―Your mom‘s already running around like a rabid hound.‖ ―It‘ll be over soon enough. After the wedding and Christmas, it‘ll all quiet down.‖ ―Ach, you think so?‖ Samuel wrinkled his forehead. ―Most likely not. Already having nightmares about Mark and Heidi‘s baby screaming above our heads. One wailing baby‘s enough.‖ ―I‘m sure they‘ll be settled in their own farm by the time they have any kinner,‖ Daniel said. ―Let‘s hope so. Thank da Hah if the house ever gets emptied.‖ Samuel grabbed the rake from the ground and took up where David had left off. Daniel hadn‘t noticed with the commotion when they‘d arrived yesterday, but his father seemed older than the last time he‘d seen him over the summer. His shoulders slumped forward as he raked. His beard, almost completely gray now, scraped against his everprotruding belly. His movements were slow and almost pained. For sure the added child, not to mention Leah‘s worsening illness, taxed his middle-aged father. ―At least you‘re wearing your Amish clothes,‖ Samuel said out of the blue, sizing Daniel up and down while he chored. ―And you let your hair and beard grow. Those are good signs.‖ Daniel raised an eyebrow at his father, the curry brush poised over Gertrude‘s back. ―What do you mean?‖ ―That last time you were here, you looked like you had enlisted in the Marines. You gave your mom a start. What exactly is it you‘re doing in Montana, Daniel?‖ his father asked him, returning his eyes to the raking. ―I‘m doing woodwork. You know that.‖ Daniel went back to brushing the standardbred, wishing his father had never left the basement, where he fixed busted watches for a second income. ―Can‘t you do woodworking here, like you used to?‖ 45

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―I like it there,‖ Daniel said. ―I told you about it.‖ ―Perhaps your mom and me should take the train and come out and see you, when the weather warms. Perhaps this spring, after the planting. Your mom reads me some of your letters. You describe the place like it‘s heaven.‖ Daniel stiffened. There was no way he could allow his parents to visit him in Montana. Not with Aiden living with him. ―I live in a very small cabin,‖ he said. ―Maybe you should wait until I find something bigger.‖ Keeping to his task, Samuel said, ―We still don‘t understand why you called off your wedding to Tara Hostetler and moved out there.‖ The horse‘s nickering and blustering filled the silence. ―Tara and me weren‘t meant to be,‖ Daniel said. ―I think you realize that.‖ ―Then why did you ask her to be your wife?‖ Daniel sighed. ―I thought I was ready after Esther and Zach‘s deaths, but I was wrong.‖ ―She was a good choice for you,‖ his father said. ―I hear she‘s courting someone from another community back east. It may be too late for you to patch things up with her, but I don‘t see why you can‘t try.‖ ―I don‘t plan on patching things up with her, Dad. I‘m here to sit next to my brother while he gets married, and that‘s all.‖ ―Are you going to the church gatherings in Montana at least?‖ Samuel went on. ―Nay, I have to say I haven‘t, not yet.‖ ―That‘s a gross infraction to the church, Daniel.‖ ―I‘m still settling in.‖ ―It‘s been many months,‖ Samuel said. ―How much settling in do you need? You been there since June. It‘s now near Christmas.‖ ―I spoke with the bishop there, he understands,‖ Daniel said. ―He has not pushed me.‖ ―You aren‘t the only one who spoke with the bishop in Rose Crossing.‖

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Daniel eyed his father over the horse‘s hindquarters. ―What do you mean?‖ ―The ministers here spoke with him too.‖ ―About what?‖ ―You, of course.‖ ―How am I any of their business?‖ ―Daniel, such a tongue. You need more respect. Mountain air has made you bruchig.‖ ―Sorry, Dad, I don‘t mean to be brash.‖ Daniel had always shown deference to the ministers, but lately he did not care to, not after what he‘d learned about Reverend Yoder, about what Aiden had revealed in his fleeting investigation. He figured Reverend Yoder was caught up in his second cousin Kyle‘s death somehow. But how? He never could fit all the pieces together. Yet he believed that somehow the reverend was responsible. Each time Kyle‘s horrible death skimmed across his mind, more and more, he believed Aiden had been right. Reverend Yoder had killed his own son. How could he respect anyone like that? ―They‘re only concerned with your spiritual life,‖ Samuel said. ―They want to make sure you‘re going to the gmays. The bishop there told them you keep a distance.‖ Daniel‘s head reeled. Did the Rose Crossing bishop know he and Aiden lived together and mention the fact to the Henry ministers? ―What else did the bishop say?‖ ―Only that you‘re an able-bodied and -minded man who should be closer to the community,‖ Samuel said. ―They need men like you. They got many maydels looking for husbands. You keep one foot in and the other out.‖ Daniel moved to Gertrude‘s front and brushed her mane. The mare nickered. ―I still don‘t see why the ministers felt the need to contact the Rose Crossing bishop on my behalf.‖ Samuel stopped his raking and peered at Daniel with fused eyebrows. His beard hung low, past his pants flap. Faint billows of steam escaped from his mouth.

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―You were baptized, Daniel. How much do I have to emphasize the importance of that? You‘re not some youth rumspringa.‖ Samuel lowered his voice, as if he worried someone might overhear, or the livestock, like the animals at baby Jesus‘s birth, understood human language and might gossip about what they‘d learned. ―People are wondering if we should shun you or not. The ministers will want to talk with you about this. I‘m warning you so you‘ll be prepared.‖ Dozens of prickly, cold fingers crawled up Daniel‘s spine. He had anticipated a faceoff with the ministers in Henry. Yet he did not want to think about it. Now his father‘s words brought the reality of a confrontation crashing against his chest. ―There‘s nothing really to talk about,‖ he said, keeping to his curry brushing while making like his father‘s words hadn‘t fazed him. ―Why should they want to?‖ ―They want to know about your commitment to the church, your life here, your life in Montana. Why you ended your engagement to Tara Hostetler only a few days before the wedding,‖ Samuel said. ―They never got to speak with you about that when you were here last. There‘s much no one knows. They ask me, and I‘m unable to tell them anything. I‘m in the dark too. What are your intentions, Daniel?‖ ―I got no intentions.‖ ―Listen, Daniel. You must be respectful of the ministers. Don‘t be so insolent with them. I want you to answer their questions appropriately when they speak with you. I want you to listen to what they tell you.‖ The chilly silence that followed cut the air more penetratingly than if they had been standing in the middle of a blizzard. Samuel‘s implications were clear. A confrontation with the ministers loomed over the horizon, and Daniel had no power to stop it.

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Chapter Six

―THE Millers seemed uncomfortable around me,‖ Aiden said as he and Daniel hiked to the inn under the canopy of a dark, moonless night. White stars peeked from behind rolling, black clouds and freckled the sapphire sky. Cold air stung his cheeks. Their visit at the farm had stretched past eight o‘clock, and Aiden was tired and irritable. ―What makes you think the Millers don‘t like you?‖ Daniel kept his gaze fixed on the snowy shoulder in front of them. Since checking on the animals in the barn, he‘d been in a gruff mood too. Everyone was in a temper. Even baby Gretchen had fussed most of the day, squealing and squirming from one set of arms to the next, until finally falling off to sleep in her bassinet right before they‘d left. Maybe the hubbub of preparing for a large wedding had set off a chain of bad temper. Nonetheless, Aiden sensed something deeply disapproving from the Millers, and he didn‘t like it. ―They were speaking German the whole day, not realizing I understood,‖ Aiden said, hoping to find a confidant in Daniel, who had been acting more aloof than he cared for. He followed behind him along the shoulder, careful to place his steps in Daniel‘s sturdy boot prints to avoid struggling in the berms left by the snowplows. ―What kinds of things did they say?‖ Daniel murmured, although Aiden speculated he did not really want to know. His gloved hands clenched into tight fists by his sides, and his shoulders pressed against his exposed ears. He seemed less uncomfortable with the cold two-mile walk than he did with their conversation. ―Well, for one,‖ Aiden said, despite his misgivings, ―they asked why an Amish family would be friends with an Englishman.‖

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―That‘s not such an unreasonable question.‖ Daniel wiped his nose with the back of his gloved hand. ―The Amish being friends with Englishers is uncommon.‖ ―It was their tone,‖ Aiden said, eyeing the backs of Daniel‘s heels kick up snow. ―They seemed judgmental.‖ A column of smoke rose from the chimney of an English farmhouse. The windows glowed yellow. Aiden savored the smell of the wood fire. An ornamented Christmas tree, sparkling with tiny red and white lights, adorned the bay window of the sitting room. He almost longed to be inside with the English family. With iciness coming at him from every angle, Aiden grasped onto warmth wherever he encountered it. ―And why does their disapproving tone bother you?‖ Daniel said. ―You always say you don‘t care what others think.‖ ―You weren‘t even around to see it,‖ Aiden said. ―You were hiding out most the day. Reminded me of old times, the way you used to avoid me before you accepted you cared for me. It‘s bad enough David‘s been treating me like a minotaur.‖ ―A minotaur?‖ ―It‘s a mythical man-eating creature.‖ Daniel blew out a steaming snigger. ―You‘re the one who insisted on coming back here.‖ ―I feel left out, like you‘re alienating me.‖ ―I can‘t hold your hand, if that‘s what you want.‖ Daniel‘s words brought Aiden to a stop. An oncoming car passed slowly. The headlights momentarily blinded him. Was he acting like a child? A child who needed his hand held? Everything seemed to be bothering him lately. His head ached, and even the snow crunching under their boots agitated him. Disgusted with himself, he clumped ahead to catch up with Daniel. They kept silent the remainder of the way to the inn. Yet pestering worries stalked Aiden—Daniel wanted him far away.

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A PIERCING scream forced Aiden to sit up in his bed. He switched on the night table lamp. At first, he wondered if the scream hadn‘t come from a dream. But Daniel had apparently heard the sound too. He was leaning against his headboard, staring at the door with his eyebrows arched high on his forehead. Another scream. Daniel and Aiden bolted out of their beds, pulled on pants, and raced for the door. A middle-aged woman was scurrying up and down the hallway barefoot, her hands whirling above her curler-covered head, her robe flailing behind her, shrieking like a badger. For a brief moment, Aiden wondered if Grace had spoken some truth when she‘d said the ghost of the original owner haunted the inn. Perhaps the woman had seen some kind of apparition. Aiden, too practical to believe in ghosts, understood the power of suggestion. The mere rumor of a haunting was enough for people to see and hear things. The innkeeper on duty rushed over to investigate the uproar. ―What is it? What is it?‖ he asked, panting, his eyes wide. Other guests on the first floor, some Amish wedding guests, others English holiday tourists, peeked out their doors, their sleepy eyes filled with bewilderment. ―A rat!‖ the woman wailed, still darting about the hallway like a marble let loose on a wood floor. ―We have no rats here,‖ the innkeeper said, imploring the guests with his ever growing eyes. ―No rats, I guarantee.‖ ―But I saw it. It‘s in there.‖ The woman pointed to her room as she passed in her latest lap up and down the hallway. Aiden and Daniel stood shirtless in the doorway, staring at the scene. One of the guests screwed her eyes at them before she finally shut her door and returned to the privacy of her room, probably realizing the woman‘s screams meant nothing. Aiden dismissed the woman‘s glare and suggested the innkeeper go and look in the wailing woman‘s room. The innkeeper stepped inside. One minute later, he came out, snickering. ―It‘s only a field mouse,‖ he said. ―They sometimes sneak indoors in the wintertime. He won‘t hurt you. Right now he‘s more scared than you, cowering under the furnace.‖

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―Can‘t you catch it?‖ the woman said. ―We‘ll set some traps in the morning.‖ ―Catch it now. I insist.‖ The woman pulled at her curlers and scrunched her face to look like an emaciated gourd. With a heavy sigh, the innkeeper returned to her room. A few moments later, the mouse came running out, followed by the innkeeper chasing after it, clapping his hands and shooing it away. Breathing heavily, he said, ―Well, that‘s the best I can do. At least he‘s gone. You can get back to sleep.‖ ―I… I can‘t sleep in there. What if there‘s more? What if he has a family?‖ The woman cringed frantically and began yanking on the sleeves of her bathrobe. ―What if there‘s some hole he uses in my room?‖ ―But we‘re all filled up, ma‘am,‖ the innkeeper said. ―We have no other rooms.‖ Desperation filled his weary eyes. He looked to Aiden and Daniel, the only two left peering into the hallway. ―Do you two mind switching rooms?‖ Suddenly, the woman calmed. She eyed Aiden and Daniel, as if they were the anomalies and not her. She scrambled closer to them and peered around Aiden‘s shoulder. ―Switch rooms? But their room has two beds, and mine only has the one double bed. I don‘t think that‘ll do. Where will they each sleep?‖ ―But ma‘am, there‘s nothing else I can do for you,‖ the innkeeper said. ―We‘ll set traps in the morning.‖ ―We really wouldn‘t mind,‖ Aiden said. Daniel gaped at him. He sensed Daniel had wanted to pull him back inside the room. ―No thank you, young man,‖ the woman said. She tugged the collar of her bathrobe to her chin. ―I‘ll stay in the room I have.‖ ―What about the mouse?‖ Aiden said. ―I suppose I was acting rather foolish.‖ The woman looked to the innkeeper. ―Are you sure only that one?‖ ―Yes, yes, it was only that one mouse,‖ the innkeeper said. ―We‘ll make sure to set traps first thing in the morning to catch him, if he hasn‘t already run off back outside.‖ He ushered her into her room, smiling and nodding at Aiden and Daniel. 52

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Back in their room, Daniel climbed into his bed, yet his eyes remained open. He stared at the ceiling, his thick lips pursed. Something had irked him. Outside the window, morning twilight was coloring the snowy landscape a murky blue. ―You want to get some breakfast somewhere,‖ Aiden said. ―I don‘t think we‘ll be able to get back to sleep after that. We‘ll have to get up in a little bit anyhow.‖ At a corner diner on Ivy Street in town, Daniel fiddled with his silverware while they waited for the waitress to bring their orders. Snug in their booth, the craziness with the mouse receded. Yet Daniel‘s aloofness remained. A small consolation: Daniel had thrown on his English clothes so that Aiden didn‘t feel like an outsider. ―What‘s wrong with you, Daniel?‖ he finally asked. Daniel set down his fork with a thud on the Formica tabletop. ―You shouldn‘t have been so willing to switch rooms with that woman. How would things look if she accepted, us staying in a room with only one double bed?‖ ―Daniel, for crying out loud, it‘s no big deal. You‘re really becoming paranoid.‖ ―No need to give the community any reason to suspect,‖ Daniel said. ―No more than they already do.‖ ―You mean like us sitting together in a booth?‖ Aiden whispered sardonically. Daniel took a sip of his orange juice, his eyeballs darting from side to side over the rim. ―It doesn‘t help.‖ Suppressing a guffaw, Aiden said in a low voice, ―Why are you worried? It‘s not like we‘re advertising. Look around. Lots of men are sitting together. No one is assuming they‘re boyfriends, not me anyway.‖ ―Aiden, you don‘t understand.‖ ―You‘re right, I don‘t.‖ They were quiet a moment, the subdued murmur of morning chatter around them. ―I know it‘s complicated to come out,‖ Aiden said. ―Especially in the Amish world, but you act like you want to protect the community‘s feelings more than mine.‖

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―You cut everything down to your feelings,‖ Daniel said into the window above their booth, where outside enough darkness lingered that Aiden could see their reflections in the glass. ―If you listened to yourself, you‘d hear how selfish you sometimes sound.‖ ―Selfish? Daniel, I‘m only worried about you being unhappy, about you being so uptight all the time, about how it‘s unfair to the both of us the way you‘re afraid of what others might think.‖ ―Shtill, here comes our food.‖ Aiden hushed up like Daniel had warned, and the young waitress set their food on the table, smiling warmly, especially at Daniel. Keeping her gaze on Daniel, she asked if they needed anything else. When they refrained, she strolled to the counter and leaned against a stool, her smile at Daniel unabated. ―That waitress has been flirting with you,‖ Aiden said, cutting into his western omelet. Normally, a waitress‘s flirting with Daniel would‘ve struck him as cute. Now, he wanted to claim Daniel, but it was impossible at the diner. Or anywhere, apparently, other than back in Montana in their cabin, or deep in the backcountry, where he could drape an arm around his shoulder, lay his head on his chest, or even kiss him full on the mouth without Daniel flinching in horror. ―I don‘t pay attention to those things,‖ Daniel said, pouring strawberry syrup over his buttermilk pancakes. ―It‘s rude, if you ask me.‖ Aiden toyed with his food. Suddenly his appetite waned. He glanced out the window. Light filled the sky, slowly turning the bluish landscape pink and golden. ―And you‘re Amish, too. What a way for her to behave.‖ ―She has no idea I‘m Amish.‖ Daniel chewed a forkful of pancake. ―I‘m wearing fancy clothes.‖ ―She can tell by your beard.‖ Daniel shrugged. ―I seen Englishmen with beards like mine.‖ ―Well, she‘s still rude.‖ Daniel rolled his eyes, his cheeks puffed with food. ―Can‘t we eat breakfast in peace? Things are going to be hectic enough today, what with preparing for the wedding tomorrow. I‘d like to have a little peace while I eat.‖ 54

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―I‘m sorry.‖ Aiden wanted to ameliorate things between them. ―I‘m a little extra sensitive lately. You keep pushing me further and further away here, and you promised you wouldn‘t.‖ ―Aiden, I won‘t argue with you about this, not in a diner, especially when it‘s barely seven o‘clock in the morning. Now eat your eggs before they get cold.‖ While Aiden had inwardly laughed at the woman back at the bed and breakfast for making a spectacle of herself over a measly mouse, a rush of empathy for her made him reflect. He, too, felt like he was being chased out of his comfortable world, overwhelmed by intrusive pests. Or, he considered as he took a small bite of his omelet, perhaps he should empathize more with the field mouse.

AFTER breakfast, Aiden dropped Daniel off at the farm and said he needed to go back to the inn and do some writing. He wanted to avoid facing the Schrocks—and their houseguests. At least for a while. His head still ached, and he wanted to be alone. Daniel‘s curt warning, ―Be careful,‖ failed to alleviate the dull worry weighing on his mind. Heading back to the bed and breakfast, he reckoned he‘d drive around for a bit, clear his head, take in some of the landscape. He‘d never seen Frederick County fully in winter. With snow blanketing the tawny fields, the farmland exuded a certain coziness, an idyllic charm. Different from the sublime, rugged beauty of western Montana, but attractive in its own subtle way. He only wished circumstances were different. Away from the commotion of the Schrock farm, those feelings of alienation lessened. He didn‘t mind being different. He relished it, like Daniel had said of him. He liked his individuality. But he feared his differences in the Amish community might destroy everything that he and Daniel had built together the past six months. He disliked the mendacious games, the awkward glances. The questions, both spoken and implicit, of why he was there. He never understood why people would rather live in a world of pretense, yet 55

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Daniel—and the community—gave him little choice. And the more he had to lie, the more he faded away, a mere wispy cloud in their midst. And Daniel did not seem to care. He had hoped by coming back to Illinois their relationship might strengthen. But he feared the forces of family and community wielded too great an influence for Daniel. Instead of bringing them closer, Henry was forcing their relationship through a grinder, ripping apart all that joined them. He turned down the street where he‘d once lived. Slowing, he peered at the small white bungalow with the robin‘s-egg blue shutters he‘d rented for four hundred fifty dollars a month, back what seemed ages ago. Difficult to imagine only a little over a year had passed since he‘d packed his old Aveo and headed back home to his parents‘ in Maryland. Even if Daniel‘s father hadn‘t candidly suggested he leave town, he probably would‘ve left on his own before the spring, anyway. By Thanksgiving, Aiden had already learned of Daniel‘s proposing to Tara Hostetler. If he had thought he and Daniel might have a future together, news of their engagement had doused any hopes for that. Samuel had told him he did not belong in Henry, and that he and Daniel came from two different worlds. Maybe Samuel had been the only one dealing honestly with things, and everyone else was living under pretenses. Everything turned around when he ran into Daniel in Glacier National Park, right before Daniel‘s wedding to Tara. When they found each other, face to face, in the middle of the Montana backcountry, both realized neither could go back as if they had never met. God had placed them together. Did God have something more in store for them? Despite the snow, his old, tiny bungalow looked like how he remembered, other than that someone had removed the ―for sale‖ sign and a sedan was parked in the driveway. His former landlady must‘ve finally found a buyer. His small garden, the one in which he‘d planted black-eyed Susans to remind him a little bit of his home state, still had the thick flowerless stalks sticking out of the snow. Above the garden was where someone had chucked a pumpkin at his house a few weeks before Halloween. A wreath hung on the front door, the same door on 56

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which someone had spray painted ―GET OUT OF TOWN‖ about the same time they‘d hurled the pumpkin at his house. Shaking his head, he still wondered if a man like Reverend Yoder could have had any connection to such childish pranks. He had promised Daniel before leaving Montana he‘d refrain from investigating anymore into Kyle‘s death, and he meant to keep that promise. But seeing the old house, with the rush of memories from when he‘d lived there—the threats, that moment when Daniel had attempted to kiss him on the sofa after Daniel had revealed his secret about him and Kyle Yoder—he found suppressing his journalistic cravings difficult. Farther up Ivy Street, the town‘s main thoroughfare, local shop owners had fully decked out Henry for Christmas. Wreaths and red bows hung from the streetlamps. Garlands had been strung on the awnings over most businesses. Windows charmed passersby with artificial snowflakes and stringer lights. He saw the Schrocks‘ old furniture shop. Like a handful of other shops, it sat vacant, without the cheery trimmings. The awning, once having borne the shop‘s name, ―Schrock Furniture,‖ had been removed. Shrugging inwardly, he supposed closing the shop last spring was for the best. Orders for furniture had been increasing since summer, and they‘d pocket more profits rather than sink so much into costly rent. The Henry Blade office was decorated too. A cardboard Santa waved from the door. Yellow glow illuminated the frosty window. His former boss, Kevin Hassler, always an early bird, must have already been hard at work. Aiden parked the truck alongside the curb out front. Computers and overhead fluorescent lights hummed when he walked in, the same greeting he‘d received each time he‘d stepped inside the small utilitarian office the five months he‘d worked there. Kevin looked up from his desk. ―Aiden Cermak. What do you know? Fancy seeing you walk in.‖ He stood, wiped his hands on his slacks, approached Aiden with an extended hand. ―Yeah, I guess you can‘t keep me away.‖ Aiden clasped his hand, grinning widely. His old boss looked much the same: short stature, small, dark eyes behind thick glasses, perhaps a bit grayer along the 57

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temples of his thinning hair. Aiden glanced over Kevin‘s shoulder at a woman typing at his old desk. ―Got a new employee, I see.‖ ―I hired Carolyn a few months after you resigned,‖ Kevin said. ―She‘s a graduate student studying communications at the university down near Mattoon. Carolyn, this is Aiden Cermak, one of my former reporters. Aiden, this is Carolyn Bates.‖ Aiden offered his hand, but she remained at her desk, where she only glanced up with a quick nod and turned back to the computer. Aiden inwardly chuckled that a communications major would seem fairly uncommunicative. ―Good learning experience working here, I bet.‖ ―More for me,‖ Kevin said. ―Carolyn teaches me a lot. She‘s very bright, more than I am. I never had the chance to go to school myself. I was one of those old-fashioned, self-made guys, learned by the ropes. You young folks are lucky these days. You get a good jumpstart before diving in.‖ ―I always thought about going to grad school,‖ Aiden said. ―I can never seem to get around to it.‖ He waited for Carolyn to partake in the conversation, but she seemed focused on whatever she was typing. Tension in the office weighted heavier than Aiden had anticipated. When Aiden had resigned from the Blade with little notice last Thanksgiving, he understood Kevin had been glad to see him go. Kevin had come down hard on Aiden for investigating Kyle Yoder‘s death. His nosiness had caused many complaints from Kevin‘s readers. Eventually, Aiden had backed down from the Kyle story, but not without animosity stewing between him and his boss. Some of that mild discomfort still lingered, like an unattended toothache. He smiled wider, hoping to force away the nagging sensation that he was unwanted, even in Kevin‘s office. Kevin kept up with the small talk. ―Carolyn got a softball scholarship for college. She took the Henry High School team to the state championships. Has near perfect grade point average.‖ ―Sounds like you got yourself a star reporter,‖ Aiden said.

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―She‘s the best.‖ Kevin beamed with hands deep in trouser pockets. ―Not that you weren‘t good too.‖ Aiden wanted to jump in with some self-effacing humor about his stint working for Kevin and his investigation into Kyle Yoder‘s death, but opted to leave it alone. Sarcasm was a lost art, he feared, and he was unsure if Kevin would mistake his joking for an affront. ―I guess I was okay,‖ he said. ―So what brings you to town?‖ Kevin asked. ―I‘m going to Mark Schrock‘s wedding.‖ ―I heard about him getting married. When‘s the big day?‖ ―Tomorrow.‖ ―Oh, right. The Amish always get married during the week.‖ ―I like Mark‘s fiancée.‖ Aiden glanced at Carolyn. Wordy text from the computer screen reflected off her eyeglasses. ―She‘s a nice girl.‖ ―Mark was always a good kid. I‘m sure he knows how to pick a wife,‖ Kevin said. ―That‘s important for the Amish, you know, since they don‘t believe in divorce. Unlike me. Got two marriages under my belt.‖ Kevin and Aiden shared a chuckle. Carolyn stood with a harsh screech of her swivel chair and stomped to the printer. She seemed to be waiting for copy to slide out. She lifted the printer and shook it a few times, as if it were made of Styrofoam, and set it back down. Her burly form disappeared into the back room, where her shadow lingered by the door. ―So how long you in town for?‖ Kevin asked with a wobbly smile. ―Just until after Christmas.‖ ―You staying with the Schrocks, like last time?‖ ―No, we‘re staying at the Harvest Sunrise Inn.‖ ―We?‖ ―Well, I traveled in with Daniel, Daniel Schrock, Mark‘s brother.‖ Speaking the truth to his former boss, an Englisher like he, came easier, and he did not see any reason to fib about whom he had traveled with and where he lived. ―We‘re both living out in Montana.‖ 59

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―Really? I heard word Daniel had moved out there,‖ Kevin said, his grin solid. ―So you‘re living there, too, huh? You finally got that cabin in the woods?‖ ―Yeah, I finally moved into a cabin.‖ Aiden wanted to acknowledge he lived with Daniel, but out of respect for Daniel, he held back. No point in going into every detail of his personal life with his former boss anyway, especially with that taciturn woman present. He already sensed he had stepped into the middle of something personal going on between Kevin and Carolyn, something more pressing than newspaper business. Kevin chuckled. ―I used to laugh to myself whenever you‘d tell me tales about wanting to move to the woods. I‘m glad to see you made your dreams come true.‖ ―Thanks, it‘s hard to believe sometimes. I love it. Although the snow is something to get used to.‖ ―I bet you‘re isolated, in the middle of nowhere, hardly any contact with other people?‖ ―It‘s not that rustic, but as close as you can get in today‘s world, I guess.‖ Carolyn stepped back into the front office, glanced at Kevin, and went to her desk, where she began typing anew, her face screwed with focus. Or was it annoyance? Aiden sympathized. When he‘d worked there, he‘d become absorbed in his stories and disliked distractions too. Plus, today was Tuesday. Deadline for the weekly newspaper was always Tuesday at midnight. He recalled the hectic hours he and Kevin had spent trying to keep a few paces ahead of the clock. Perhaps he was interfering and should leave. ―You want some coffee?‖ Kevin asked him, needlessly loudly, as if to make a production out of the offer. Aiden interpreted that to mean he‘d rather Aiden not stay long enough to have any. ―No thanks, I have to get going,‖ he said, glancing toward the Santa Claus on the door. ―I‘m sure you guys have lots of work to do. I still have some errands to run, myself. Great seeing you again.‖ ―You too, Aiden. Thanks for stopping in. And tell Mark and his bride congratulations for me.‖

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―Bye,‖ Aiden said to Carolyn. She gave a cursory gesture with her fingers without lifting her head. Shrugging to himself, Aiden walked out onto the street. Aiden figured something heavier than work had transpired between Kevin and Carolyn. The tensions of a complicated couple had been thick, like smog. In some ways, he delighted that even a heterosexual couple had to hide their love. He snickered, thinking how Kevin had gone on and on about Carolyn‘s wonderful attributes. The fine art of subtlety had always eluded Kevin. Twice divorced, Kevin had nothing to conceal. But Carolyn? Perhaps she was embarrassed by the age difference. Kevin was at least twenty-five years older than she. He knew enough about small-town living. Even in Amish Country, things weren‘t always as white bread as they appeared. Climbing into the Suburban, he gazed through the office window. Were they arguing? Looked as if Kevin was trying to console Carolyn about something. They stood face to face, his hands on her sturdy shoulders, him looking into her downcast eyes. Stress from working in a busy newspaper office? Aiden supposed everyone had their personal dramas.

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Chapter Seven

THE morning of Mark and Heidi‘s wedding, dozens of black buggies streamed along the blacktop lane abutting the Schrock farm. Buggy horses grazed in the snow-dappled field where, yesterday, Grace and David had spread out hay to keep the horses happy. More standardbreds nickered and snorted from inside the barn. Amish who lived close enough to walk dotted the lane in their Sunday best. Aiden and Daniel had hiked in from the Harvest Sunrise, appreciating the mild December morning when temperatures hovered in the mid-forties. Most of the previous night‘s snow had melted. They had even left their winter coats at the inn. Daniel, decked in his nicest Amish suit, looked so handsome, so masculine. The black broadfall pants, stark white shirt, and black dress coat, nicely pressed by the solicitous maid at the inn, pulled tight around his sturdy frame and enhanced his natural masculinity. His black, wide-brimmed hat, offset by his dark beard, framed his striking features. Despite Daniel‘s spruce appearance, a tightness wrenched up in Aiden‘s chest. Here in Amish Country, surrounded by a wash of Daniel‘s own people, Aiden stood out like a moose at a gopher convention in his go-to suit for special occasions—in fact, it was the only suit Aiden owned: olive green tweed two-piece. ―I‘ll have to go to Mark,‖ Daniel said. ―It‘s my job as one of his newehockers to calm his nerves.‖ That the best men and bridesmaids, or newehockers, in an Amish wedding must be single annoyed Aiden. Daniel was single, but only in the legal sense. In their world, they had made a commitment to each other. To Aiden, they were more united than any married couple. 62

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He dreaded the idea of Daniel going. Yet, at the same time, he figured if they were separated during the ceremony it might be easier for them both. Daniel had been uptight around him. Perhaps a short time apart would salve their nerves. ―Guess I‘ll talk to you after the ceremony.‖ Aiden watched Daniel amble inside the house. Alone on the lawn, he tried to wrestle with the sense of alienation. He waited a moment, mustering his courage, before heading inside. A surge of Amish ushered him through the front door. The guests crowded onto the benches that faced the makeshift pulpit in the front hallway. Men and women sat on opposite sides of the rooms where yesterday Aiden and the others had pushed aside the furniture to make way for the benches. After leaving Kevin‘s office, Aiden had trekked back to the farm to avoid the sting of guilt, knowing the Schrocks would want the extra muscle setting up for the wedding. Everyone had been busy baking, scrubbing, and unloading the Church Wagon of benches, songbooks, fold-out tables—everything needed for the wedding and reception. Few seemed worried about Aiden. They‘d been grateful for his and everyone else‘s hard-working hands. Looking around the gmay, Aiden recognized few faces. The Amish had come from communities far and wide, traveling by bus, train, or English drivers from places like Iowa, Missouri, Indiana, and, of course, Texas, Heidi‘s home state. Heidi had told him last night that weddings were traditionally held in the home of the bride‘s parents, but since Heidi was from so far away, and she was going to move to Henry anyway, common sense insisted they hold the ceremony at the Schrock house. He spied one other Englishman, about seventy, in a pinstripe suit. A few women wore modern dresses and sat with purses snug in their laps. Perhaps they were English friends and neighbors or the English drivers. David, who had at one time not too long ago sought Aiden‘s company, sat with a group of other boys in the back hallway. Samuel sat in the front section with the elderly men. Elisabeth cradled Gretchen alongside Moriah and Grace on the women‘s side, while Rachel sat next to Leah near the front, her junior-sized wheelchair wedged between the wall and the bench.

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Once everyone settled in their seats, the gmay sang from the Ausbund, the centuries-old Amish hymnal, while waiting for the ministers to descend from the upstairs with Mark and Heidi and their newehockers. The singing helped Aiden assuage his nerves. He followed along, singing fully, unconcerned with the glances cast his way. He supposed if the community refused to accept him, he might as well assert his rebelliousness. Ironically like the Amish hymn writers, imprisoned for their beliefs five hundred years ago, had done. Shortly, Mark and Heidi descended the stairs, followed by Daniel and the other three newehockers. They took their seats at the special benches in front of the pulpit. Mark wore a black suit and crisp white shirt and black bowtie. Heidi was in a simple, calf-length plum dress with white cape and heart-shaped prayer kapp. Her two maydels wore simple dresses of light blue. Aiden smiled watching Daniel, so dapper, take his seat next to Mark. Pride filled his lungs as he thought about how Daniel belonged to him. If only he could proclaim his love to those around him. His heart fluttered like an injured bird when Reverend Yoder, long bearded and broad shouldered, followed three other ministers from the upstairs in taking their seats at the pulpit. Reverend Yoder approached the lectern first. He acknowledged the gmay with a nod and began the ceremony like any regular Amish service on a Church Sunday. Aiden had attended an Amish church service once before, when the Schrocks had hosted last summer. Like last time, the reverend avoided any eye contact with the gmay throughout his sermon. Piercing blue eyes burned holes into the leaves of his Bible. The other two ministers took their turns at the lectern, speaking mostly in Pennsylvania German, like Reverend Yoder, except when reading from Scripture, which they read in High German. Bishop Hershberger, the last to step up, gazed down his auburn beard at the congregation that flowed around him, some even into the kitchen. The bishop smiled lightly at the wedding couple. He was the first to directly acknowledge them. He called them forth to kneel before him. Only at this time did the service resemble anything like a typical American wedding. Staring at

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them keenly, Bishop Hershberger read passages from the Bible that highlighted the importance of marriage and fidelity. ―Marriage is honorable in all, and the bed undefiled….‖ ―For this cause shall a man leave his father and mother, and cleave to his wife… and the twain shall be one flesh.‖ ―…ye be likeminded, having the same love, being of one accord, of one mind.‖ ―The wife hath not power over her own body, but the husband; and likewise also the husband that not power of his own body, but the wife.‖ Turning to Heidi: ―Let it not be a concern outward beauty that depends on fancy hairstyles, wearing of gold, or putting on apparel. Ye should be known for the beauty that comes from within.‖ And to Mark: ―…honor unto the wife, as unto the weaker vessel, and as being heirs together of the grace of life….‖ A train of thoughts passed through Aiden‘s mind while he listened to the bishop read from Scripture. He hated to acknowledge his emotions, but there was no doubt. Jealousy pinched him. Much of what the bishop read from the Bible applied to Aiden and Daniel. But would he and Daniel ever have the chance to declare their love and commitment to one another openly, like Mark and Heidi now were? His and Daniel‘s love was genuine. As much as anyone‘s. As much as any Amish couple‘s. They had yielded their bodies to each other that night at Glacier National Park six months ago. God and nature had borne witness to their coming together as one. How unfair they had to keep their love silent. The bishop took Mark and Heidi‘s hands in his and looked at them fixedly. ―You will care for each other, in sickness, in adversity, in pain, in tragedy, for the remainder of your lives, until death?‖ Without hesitation, Mark and Heidi nodded. A lump rose in Aiden‘s throat. He longed to have Daniel seated next to him to at least sneak a loving gaze, or nudge his fingers closer

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to his strong thigh, to tap into his warmth and strength. They were so squeezed together on the benches, no one would‘ve noticed. Was Daniel‘s head full of the same tender ruminations, watching his brother take his vows? The bishop‘s face softened, and he asked for the couple to stand. Still holding their hands, he said, ―Go forth in da Hah‘s name, and love each other as He loves you.‖ He paused, as if considering his next words, weighty like stones. Licking his lips, he finally said, ―You are now man and wife.‖ Gently turning them to face the gmay, Bishop Hershberger grasped their shoulders to bring them closer together and—without applause, kisses, or the exchanging of rings—officially presented them to the community for the first time as a married couple.

―IT

WAS a nice ceremony,‖ Aiden said to Daniel after he had come down from the upstairs. The newehockers had disappeared with the ministers and Mark and Heidi once the services had ended. Aiden had worried Daniel might never come down. Standing alone against the wall by the kitchen, smiling at the women scurrying about preparing lunch, he‘d begun to feel even more uncomfortable. Aiden wanted to tell Daniel how handsome he looked, but he knew better than to utter such words around Daniel‘s friends and family. ―Weddings are all the same,‖ Daniel said. ―I don‘t care much for all the pomp.‖ ―This is nothing.‖ Aiden chuckled. ―You should see the extravagance of an English wedding.‖ ―I been to an English wedding before,‖ Daniel said. ―One of our neighbor‘s sons. All seems like a waste of money to me.‖ ―I think it‘s kind of nice to declare your love for someone in front of friends and family.‖ Daniel shrugged. ―I understand all that, but why do they have to have these big receptions afterward? I‘d just as soon as go fishing.‖ Aiden chuckled. ―I kinda like that idea too.‖

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They stood side by side, silent. Rachel passed them, carrying a large tray full of celery sticks and carrots. By the time she passed them again, Aiden and Daniel had yet to speak. Aiden had never been at a loss for words in Daniel‘s company since they‘d taken up housekeeping together. Resentment seared his cheeks. ―You promised me you wouldn‘t push me away,‖ he said. Through clenched teeth, Daniel murmured, ―Don‘t start, will you, not here.‖ ―You said you‘d spend time with me.‖ ―I‘m with you now.‖ ―Strangers at bus stops are more sociable.‖ ―I‘m doing the best I can.‖ Daniel nudged him toward the front door. Outside, the sun shone over the farm where snowdrifts had melted into small piles. The sun‘s brightness and warmth eased the acrimony. Aiden forced a tight smile while he and Daniel roamed around the front yard. Wedding guests chatting with each other—relatives and friends Daniel probably hadn‘t seen in years—nodded and smiled as they passed. Aiden wondered what they might be thinking, especially those who knew him to be the outsider who had attempted to dig up dirt on Kyle Yoder‘s alleged suicide. Any one of them might‘ve been the one who‘d left him those two threatening messages and thrown a pumpkin at his old bungalow. Who was friend or foe? Mightily as he tried, he was unable to shake the irritability. Suddenly, Aiden wanted to get away. Squinting, he looked up at Daniel. ―I think I‘ll wander over and watch the horses in the field,‖ he said. ―I‘ll bump into you later, I guess.‖ ―A second ago you were complaining I wasn‘t spending any time with you. Now you want to run off?‖ ―You want to mingle,‖ Aiden said. ―You should go and catch up with your friends and relatives. I‘m in the way. You don‘t want to go up to them with me around, I can tell.‖ ―Aiden, it‘s not like that. You know how it is,‖ Daniel said. ―Please, don‘t be so sensitive.‖ 67

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―I‘m okay, really. Now go visit with everyone. I‘ll see you later.‖ He left Daniel standing by the mailbox and ambled over to the wooden fence that bordered the dormant oat field. With one foot propped on the fence, he watched the horses nibble on hay. An armful of children building a snowman from one of the remaining snow piles eyed him. He grinned at the children before they went back to their game, but his smile faded when it failed to release those good sensations smiles were supposed to. A ruckus from the side of the house stole his attention. Mark‘s friends were carrying him by his arms and legs toward the oat field. Mark laughed and mildly protested. Aiden stepped back, away from the circle of people who had followed them out of the house. Laughing, his friends stepped to the fence and, with one heave, dumped Mark over the side. The crowd cheered. Mark stood and wiped the wet straw from his pants. Nimbly, he hopped back over the fence. ―Now I‘m officially grown up, ya?‖ he said to the cheering crowd. Next Heidi and her two bridesmaids hollered for everyone to gather around Rachel‘s fallow garden. From the fence, Aiden watched a woman lay down a straw broom and Heidi step over it with the guest‘s jubilant approval. Aiden had never seen such traditions and had no idea what any of it meant. His ignorance only reinforced that he was an outsider. Once the crowd dispersed, Aiden stayed behind, sulking by the fence. The barn looked inviting. Animals, always good companions, were much kinder than people. He made his way to the barn, looking forward to seeing the miniature horses, mules, and the guests‘ stabled horses. He nearly ran into Reverend Yoder, who stood smoking a pipe by the small windmill, away from the others. Too late to avert his eyes— the reverend had already spotted him. They were close enough to speak to one another. Forcing a smile, Aiden said, ―How are you, Reverend?‖ Reverend Yoder sucked on his pipe and visibly inhaled. ―I‘m goot, and you?‖ ―Fine, thanks. Very nice service today.‖ 68

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―Danke.‖ He blew out a cloud of white smoke. Aiden was surprised when he spoke more. ―It‘s always nice to see our young people marry,‖ he said, watching the nimbus of smoke disappear into the blue sky. ―Especially when they‘re clearly so right for each other.‖ ―Yes, sir, they do make a nice couple.‖ Like him and Daniel, he wanted to add, almost defiantly. Keeping his cool, he reminded himself that this was Mark‘s wedding. No place to confront the man whom he suspected had murdered his son nine years ago. He still had little doubt Reverend Yoder was responsible. He had no concrete facts to support his hypothesis. Still, his initial suspicions never wavered, not even a little bit. Based on the physical evidence at the scene and the condition of Kyle‘s body, it was impossible the teenager could have committed suicide. Unless he was made of rubber or stood fifteen feet tall. No one could hang himself from the highest rafter of a barn the way Kyle had been found. Someone must‘ve killed him, then hanged him in the barn, like a side of beef. The reverend had been the first to find his body. And he also had a motive. All arrows pointed to Reverend Yoder, the imposing minister with the cutting blue eyes, standing before Aiden now, sucking on a pipe and staring into the warm winter sun as if he were as innocent as the sparrows pecking at the seeds under the birdfeeder in the front yard. Oddly, the reverend had to have known about Aiden‘s investigation last year while he‘d worked for The Henry Blade. Everyone knew. Surely Reverend Yoder, who kept watch over the flock like a hawk, had been aware of what was going on. Even Daniel had once warned Aiden the ministers might want to speak with him about his snooping into the community‘s affairs. Yet, even stranger, the reverend had not even a nervous twitch. He would have to be evil to not care about having done something as horribly malicious as killing his own son, even if by accident. Nagging uncertainties aside, Aiden found the reverend more engaging than anyone else had been thus far. Desperate for human interaction, he wanted to keep the reverend talking. Maybe he might even get him to slip up and utter something self-incriminating. After a moment of silent contemplation, courage filled him.

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―Nice that the weather cooperated for the wedding,‖ Aiden dared to say. To Aiden‘s surprise, the minister turned to him with a wide grin, his pipe clenched between big white teeth. Somehow he managed to keep his piercing blue eyes away from Aiden. Whether he turned his gaze upward, downward, or sideways, his eyes somehow managed to avoid direct contact. ―Ya, it is indeed a moment when we can realize God is smiling upon us,‖ Reverend Yoder said, turning his face back to the sun. Following his gaze, Aiden said, ―God created something amazing when he came up with the sun.‖ ―Ya, that He has,‖ the reverend said. ―The way we circle around it so fast,‖ Aiden said. ―It‘s hard to imagine sometimes.‖ Instead of an agreeing nod and warm smile like before, the minister shot Aiden a harsh glare, his icy blues meeting Aiden‘s eyes for the first time. ―Circle the sun?‖ Reverend Yoder said. ―Well, yes….‖ ―The earth does not circle the sun, my young English friend. It is the sun that circles the earth.‖ The minster puffed at his pipe and, without any further words, left for the house. A jolt of realization struck Aiden as he stood alone by the windmill and watched the reverend stomp through the soggy grass and up the stone footpath. He understood what an ultra-orthodox world Daniel had come from. Although he was certain most of the Amish believed the earth circled the sun, as did Daniel, they still held on to staunch Biblical teachings that would be impossible for Aiden to live by, whether or not he believed in God. Then and there, Aiden realized he and Daniel living together freely in that world would be impossible, not if they wanted to remain a couple. There was much he liked about Amish culture too… the subsistence lifestyle, the old-fashioned ways, the dedication to family and community. But the differences left gaping potholes. 70

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And what about Daniel? How lengthy were his roots implanted in his Amish world? Were they too strong for even Aiden to yank him free?

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Chapter Eight

―IT‘S

TIME for slap-a-pig,‖ shouted a man after everyone had

consumed the afternoon meal and most of the older guests, including the ministers, had left the reception. Some of the men waved their hands in front of their faces and backed off, flushing and grinning. Others seemed eager and made their way for the sitting room, where the fun was to take place. Aiden, standing in the hallway next to Daniel, looked up at him. ―What in the world is slap-a-pig?‖ Shrugging, Daniel said, ―It‘s a game we Illinois Amish sometimes play at weddings. You probably won‘t like it much.‖ ―Why? How does the game go?‖ Mark, who had been standing behind them, cut in and explained the rules to Aiden. ―Someone is blindfolded and then bent over a chair. Another person is chosen to swat his backside. The person who got swatted then has to figure out who did it. They ask ‗Veir‘ar es?‘, ‗Who was it?‘ and try to figure it out. If he gets it right, the person who did the swatting takes a turn over the chair. If he guesses wrong, he has to do it all over again. Sometimes the person never gets it right, and his rump is smacked raw.‖ ―Why‘s the game called slap-a-pig?‖ Aiden asked, his head filling with trepidation. ―Farmers slap pigs to get them moving from place to place,‖ Mark said. ―They use leather pig slappers, but we use our bare hands for this game, so don‘t you worry.‖ He chuckled and joined the growing throng of men and boys, and a few women and girls, who blushed and giggled with their hands over their mouths. They scooted 72

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aside benches and tables. A young man dragged a ladder-back chair to the center of the room. Aiden backed away. But Daniel could not escape. Hands came at him from every direction and grabbed him. ―Come on,‖ one man said. ―We played at your wedding. Don‘t you remember, Daniel?‖ Flushing and grinning, Daniel peeled his friends‘ hands off him. ―I don‘t want to play this shussly game.‖ But Daniel‘s protests were to no avail. He was scooted next to a group of men who stared at the ominous lone chair in the middle of the room with large grins. Aiden hesitantly followed and stood next to Daniel. ―Who goes first?‖ someone asked. ―The groom always goes first,‖ a voice from the crowd shouted. Objecting lightheartedly, Mark let his friends drag him to the chair. Choking back laughs, they tied a blindfold over his eyes and placed him in position: hands on backrest, knees on seat, butt in air. With everyone hushed, the first man chosen to slap Mark‘s behind stepped up to the chair. Brandishing his large hand to the chuckling crowd, he wound up his arm as if he were about to pitch a baseball and whacked Mark hard against his rear. Mark wailed, followed by the room breaking out into harmonious laughter. Rubbing his backside, he untied the blindfold and looked around with a sneer. ―Veir‘ar es?‖ He picked a man, but he was the incorrect one. Laughing, his friends repeated the steps from before, blindfolding him and getting him into position over the chair. Another man stepped up, large and muscular. The bystanders muffled their thrill. The brawny man whacked Mark harder than the first one, as Mark‘s robust squeal of pain proved. A wave of giggles rippled throughout the room. He stripped off the blindfold and peered around, this time looking genuinely annoyed. ―Veir‘ar es?‖ he grunted. To the delight of the bystanders, he again chose the wrong culprit—Daniel. Not a bad guess, considering Daniel and the man who had whacked Mark were about the same stature. 73

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―Sorry,‖ Daniel said with a shrug. ―This is my last turn,‖ Mark said defiantly while his friends placed him in position. ―I don‘t care if I pick wrong or not.‖ ―The game doesn‘t go like that,‖ one of his friends said, chuckling. ―Now he knows what a wayward pig feels like,‖ another said. A round of hearty guffaws broke loose. Aiden watched the game unfold. Whether they were Amish or English, weddings seemed the same. From his observations at the weddings he‘d attended, they brought out a strange sexual ambiguity among males. Apparently the Amish were no different. He theorized that since weddings were, in a sense, a celebration and affirmation of heterosexuality, homoeroticism was displayed with less inhibition or censure. At one friend‘s wedding, he recalled another homoerotic reception game that involved a blindfold and a chair. The groom, blindfolded and seated in a chair in the center of the room, was told he had to put the garter on his new wife, using only his mouth. But, to the delight of everyone, with the groom‘s eyes concealed, his crafty friends switched the wife with one of their male buddies. When the groom took off his blindfold to discover who was wearing the garter, he was surprised but relieved that the unusually hairy and bulky leg belonged to, not his new wife, but one of his male friends. Once at his sister‘s wedding, when he was nineteen, he had stood agape alongside a group of women watching the best man and a male friend kiss fully on the lips, while the women cheered them on. Some of the more gregarious women had shouted, ―Use your tongues! Use your tongues!‖ and the two buddies, their arms wrapped firmly around each other, had obliged. He had experienced this often at the weddings he‘d been to. Straight men would ask him to dance, and often they‘d get frisky, begging for a kiss in front of everyone, drunk or not. He doubted the Amish would go that far. Nonetheless, the same, almost unintentional, sexual games seemed to prevail. Homoeroticism bubbled up as naturally at wedding receptions as geysers at Yellowstone. Heavy amounts of alcohol consumption during the more traditional American wedding receptions never hurt. 74

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The room quieted. This time, David took a turn at swatting his brother‘s behind. He glanced around impishly and, scrunching his face, tried to whack Mark as hard as the two men before him. David scurried next to one of the taller men and waited for Mark to make his choice. Like the other two times, Mark failed to pick the correct culprit. He chose another boy about David‘s age. When the crowd identified David, Mark, obviously in pain at this point, warned his younger brother with a smirk and finger pointing he would seek revenge. Blindfolded and bent back over the chair, Mark insisted whoever was to strike next get it over with. Heidi, who had been enjoying the game along with the others, took Aiden by the arm and silently nudged him toward Mark. Her blue eyes brimmed with mischief. Aiden held back and looked to Daniel for help. Daniel merely shrugged. With the urging of the crowd, Aiden gave in to Heidi‘s light pushing. Blood rushed to his cheeks. Embarrassed, he stood before Mark, trying to keep from staring at his backside. Inhaling deeply, he looked away and gave Mark a halfhearted slap. He backed off quickly and stood next to Daniel. Seconds after taking off the blindfold, Mark guessed right. ―I figured Aiden would be the most hesitant to lay one on me,‖ Mark said, laughing and pointing. ―Besides, he‘s redder than a beet.‖ Aiden did not fully understand what was happening until he found himself steered to the center of the room. In an instant, he remembered the rules. Whoever was identified correctly had to take a turn at the chair. Blood seared his cheeks. He begged to abstain. The crowd heard nothing of his lamenting. A series of ―uh-ohs‖ further shook his nerves. What exactly would they do to him? He prayed they‘d go easy on him. Would they strike him extra hard for his being an Englisher? Would they take out their frustrations on him for his butting into the Kyle Yoder affair, or any other host of reasons they might have against him? Someone wielded the blindfold, and despite Aiden‘s protests, the man tied the bandana snugly around his eyes, near covering his entire face. Darkness engulfed him. He adjusted the mothball-smelling bandana, moist with Mark‘s perspiration, to breathe more easily.

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A set of hands turned him around and manipulated him onto the wooden chair. An adolescent boy with a cackling voice instructed him to kneel over the chair. ―Now grab onto the back and stay put.‖ The hands left him, and he underwent a sudden sensation of freefalling. Disoriented, he grabbed more firmly onto the chair‘s back to brace himself. He grimaced for what was to come. How ridiculous must he look with his butt jutting out at a party of Amish people? He wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. The room quieted. A serious air surrounded him. Whispers floated around his barely exposed ears. People were giggling and hushing each other. They were deciding who would be the first to strike. The moment Aiden relaxed, wondering if they would ever pick someone, he jerked from the heated blow. Whack! A wobbly moan came out of his mouth instead of the chortle he had planned. Hearty laughter reverberated around him. He rubbed his behind, burning as if it had been dragged across hot cement. ―Now you have to take off your blindfold and ask ‗Veir‘ar es?‘‖ he heard Mark jovially instruct him from somewhere in the crowd. With both sets of cheeks burning now, he peeled off the blindfold and, shaky and uncertain, faced the chortling crowd. He looked at the contorted and flushing faces around him, male and female. His smile must‘ve looked branded onto his face. He had no idea who might‘ve swatted him. He was certain he‘d be bent over that hard wooden chair for the rest of the afternoon, until the seat of his pants smoldered like embers. ―Umm… well… veir‘ar es?‖ His first utterance caused a small outbreak of guffaws. He strived to judge who had struck him by studying everyone‘s faces. Intent now, he scanned the room, peering into each person‘s eyes, watchful of any clues. Which one had the guiltiest look? Daniel? But Daniel always looked guilty. Especially lately. Besides, he was well familiar with Daniel‘s butt slaps. He often slapped Aiden during their lovemaking. This slap had not been one of his.

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But the more he scrutinized Daniel, the more he realized his expression was a bit different. He looked… jealous. Yes, Daniel was jealous. Jealous that another man had swatted Aiden‘s behind. He noticed Daniel shoot a piercing glance at a handsome man standing by the window, his hands deep in his pockets. He was Heidi‘s burly cousin from Texas. His face was drawn with forced gravity, his head turned askew, as if he were doing his best to avoid eye contact with anyone, particularly Aiden. Body language never lied, Aiden told himself. Lifting his head with a boastful grin, he pointed a finger at the man and declared, ―You, you slapped me!‖ ―How did you know?‖ Heidi screamed. A few men approached Aiden and patted his back. They expressed their admiration that an Englisher could play the game as well as any Amish man. He had been one of the few who‘d ever guessed right the first try. While Heidi‘s cousin was lugged to the chair and blindfolded among his friends‘ loud chatter and laughter, Aiden and Daniel exchanged glances. This time, Aiden shrugged. Daniel scowled and folded his arms across his chest.

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Chapter Nine

SOILED hay spilled from the wheelbarrow as he dumped it into the compost by the horse pen. The smell of manure and decomposition reached to his nostrils. He held back a gag. It was around nine in the morning, the day after Mark and Heidi‘s wedding. Temperatures hovered in the high thirties. To Aiden, it might as well have been in the nineties. Sweat soaked his clothes, despite his silver breath. He had been helping Moriah and David clean the stalls from the wedding guests‘ stabled horses, and the stench of livestock dung hung so thick in the air he could taste it. The work exhausted him. His gloved hands labored to grasp the wheelbarrow‘s wooden handles. He stumbled, pushing the wheelbarrow back to the barn. He hoped none of the children noticed his waning. Mark and Heidi were lucky enough to be out visiting relatives and friends. And he envied Grace and Elisabeth, who were helping Rachel scrub the house from top to bottom after its being muddied from the guests. Back inside the barn, Moriah and David raked dirtied hay from the stalls. Aiden gathered small piles into the wheelbarrow. He struggled to be useful. In his weakened state, he filled less hay in the wheelbarrow than he thought he should have. He stopped halfway to the compost and mopped his forehead. Slump-shouldered, he pushed the wheelbarrow to the pile and dumped the hay. An increasing soreness wrenched up in his neck and back. Stretching for a reprieve, he watched Elisabeth carry a basket of eggs from the henhouse. For a brief moment, Aiden wished he was inside

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with the girls, either baking or even doing the scrubbing, anything to get out of the rancid barn work. Normally, the smell of manure would not bother him. Now, he barely convinced himself to go back inside the barn. He was always a diligent worker, but today his resolve hung limp. His legs felt like wet towels wrung by powerful hands. He strived to will down the first spasms in his stomach. The labor needed to push the wheelbarrow back to the barn was no match for the strength it took to battle with mind over body. The cold breeze was a blessing on his hot face. He wiped the sweat from under his knit skullcap, wet, like a sponge. Watching Samuel approach him from the house with two thermoses, he realized his vision was fading. Samuel‘s form wavered. He said something, but his voice sloshed in Aiden‘s ears like a surge of hot waves. Tunnel vision pulled in on him. Samuel‘s blurry hand reached toward him. The sickness inside gurgled upward. He let go of the wheelbarrow and pushed past Samuel to the side of the barn. He dropped to his knees on the cold, hard dirt and vomited. The stench of butyric acid mixed with livestock feces smacked his face, and he disgorged again. With the endorphins releasing in his brain, he had little care that he put his forehead against the soiled dirt. He wanted only to rest his queasy head and relish the coolness of the earth. He sat back on his haunches. Boris, the family hound, trotted up to him and sniffed at the vomit. Aiden made to swat at the hound‘s snout, but his arm drooped like a wet noodle. As Moriah marched toward him, a new rush of hotness filled his cheeks. ―Don‘t worry,‖ Moriah said, pulling Boris back by the skin on his back. Her expression was sickeningly cheery and healthful. ―Barn work can sometimes do that to you. I once got sick from it too, when I was about five.‖ Moriah‘s words failed to lighten Aiden‘s humor. ―You need some hot coffee.‖ Samuel stood behind his daughter and thrust the thermos at Aiden again. Too weak to grab it, Aiden

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slouched forward. ―Perhaps you best get inside,‖ Samuel said, handing the thermoses to Moriah. Aiden let Samuel escort him into the house. As he was led along the stone path through Rachel‘s fallow garden, he noticed Daniel watching from the woodshop window. For now, Aiden did not wish to decode his boyfriend‘s wrinkled expression. Heat from the two gas ovens working overtime filled the house. Baking never abated in an Amish woman‘s kitchen. Samuel seated him at the oak table. He wanted to savor more of the aroma of the homemade baked bread, if only he wasn‘t so sick. ―He‘s got the flu, I can see,‖ Rachel said as she wiped her hands on her black apron, dusted lightly with flour, and scurried to the gaspowered refrigerator. ―I‘ll get some ice water. Elisabeth, go get some tea towels from the hutch.‖ ―Is that what it is, the flu?‖ Aiden mumbled. ―I was wondering….‖ Everything made sense. The fatigue, the irritability. The nagging headaches he‘d had lately. He should‘ve gotten a flu shot back in Kalispell. Now he had made himself look like a fool in front of the Schrocks. ―Should we take him to the doctor‘s?‖ Rachel asked Samuel. She filled a bowl full of ice with tap water. ―No,‖ Aiden said before Samuel could answer. ―I‘m fine. I need a break, that‘s all. I‘ll be okay. It‘s this darn flu.‖ He longed to lean against something solid, but the wooden bench had no backrest. ―Here.‖ Elisabeth handed her mother the tea towels, and Rachel quickly dropped them into the bowl of ice water. Seconds later she stood by Aiden‘s side. She pressed a wet towel to Aiden‘s forehead and neck. Despite being embarrassed by the fuss, the wet, cold towel invigorated him. He shivered exultantly. Normal blood flow returned to his face. ―Thank you,‖ he whispered. ―Feels better.‖ ―Maybe you should rest here a bit,‖ Rachel said. ―A bed and breakfast is no place to recover from the flu, don‘t you think, Samuel?‖ 80

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―Should he be around the baby?‖ Samuel asked. ―Yes, he‘s right,‖ Aiden said. ―I shouldn‘t be around Gretchen. I‘m sure I‘ll be okay; give me a minute.‖ ―The baby‘s been around hundreds of people already since yesterday,‖ Rachel said. ―Some most likely carrying around the same bug.‖ Aiden appreciated Rachel‘s attempt to care for him, but he worried about more than the baby. Tension in the house had been building since he and Daniel had arrived on Sunday. Yet he ached to lie down. Rachel took notice of Aiden‘s trembling and instructed Moriah to draw Aiden a hot bath. ―Is he real sick?‖ she asked. ―He‘ll be fine soon enough,‖ Rachel said. ―Now go do what I ask.‖ She gave Aiden the towel and grabbed a bottled water from the refrigerator. Aiden took the water from Rachel and savored the coolness washing down his throat, still stinging from the vomit. He winced from the acrid taste. ―You‘ll get a nice hot bath,‖ Rachel said, ―then we‘ll get you into bed. You can rest in David‘s room. Abraham and Wayne left last night, on the midnight train.‖ David grunted in the utility room where, alongside his father, he had been studying everything with screwed eyes. Between Rachel‘s caring hands, Aiden watched him brush past Samuel and stomp out of the house. That was when Daniel stepped in. Worry still creased his face. But Aiden believed Daniel‘s fretful expression stemmed from more than Aiden‘s taking ill. Like young David, Daniel did not want Aiden staying at the house.

AIDEN was lying in bed staring at the white ceiling, feeling useless and humiliated, when he heard a tap at the bedroom door. Using his phony upbeat voice, he told whoever had knocked to enter. A smiling Elisabeth stepped into the room, nimbly holding a tray with a ceramic 81

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tea set and a tea towel. Aiden had hoped Daniel would be the one at the door. He hadn‘t seen him since Rachel had brought him upstairs after his hot bath, two hours ago. ―I brought you some herbal tea.‖ Elisabeth‘s admonishing stare told him to stay put when he went to sit up on his elbows. ―We put ginger in it. Good for bellyaches.‖ She set the tray on the night table and poured some tea from the pot into a ceramic cup. The amber liquid tinkled like tiny brass bells while she poured. ―I‘m really embarrassed about getting sick,‖ Aiden said. ―You shouldn‘t be.‖ She held the teacup to Aiden, and he obediently took it from her and sipped some of the hot liquid. ―Everyone gets under the weather now and then, especially this time of year. We got word Aunt Frieda has the flu too. She called the Martins across the street just after she got home to Indiana and warned us, in case anyone else got sick.‖ Despite Elisabeth‘s assurance, he didn‘t much care to be compared to a feeble old woman. He had been lying in bed most of the morning, feeling enough like a complete fool. Health-wise, he felt better, although still a bit shaky. Psychologically, he was a wreck. He wanted to evaporate and disappear like the steam from his tea. Elisabeth carried over a ladder-back chair from the window, where Aiden noticed a light snow had begun to fall. The flurries swirled in front of the pane like a snow globe. Sitting next to him, she applied the wet towel to his forehead and flushed cheeks. She stated her pleasure Aiden had come to Mark and Heidi‘s wedding. ―I was touched that he invited me,‖ Aiden said, flushing under the cool compression of the towel. ―We‘ll never forget what you done for us, saving us from that drunk driver.‖ Elisabeth shook her head decisively. Dark blonde tresses dangled like ribbons from under the front of her kapp. ―No, we‘ll never forget, no matter what. We had much tragedy in our family already and didn‘t want any more. Are you close with your family?‖ ―Yes, I guess so. There‘re only my parents and my sister and me. I‘m the baby.‖

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―I know how the English don‘t have many kinner. But you would know how horrible it would be to lose someone in your family?‖ ―Yes, of course.‖ Elisabeth‘s face softened, and she smiled lightly, like someone resigned to a sad truth. ―We‘ll lose Leah soon someday too.‖ Aiden lowered his eyes. Suddenly, his bout with the flu seemed silly. He realized how foolish he‘d been, lying in bed, grumbling like an idiot. Eight-year-old Leah never showed frustration about being strapped in a wheelchair while she slowly died from an incurable illness few people could pronounce. Pride had made him worry how the family viewed him. His attitude was shameful, not his catching the flu. There was much to learn from such a resilient little girl like Leah. ―Don‘t you think there‘s a chance she‘ll ever recover?‖ he said, wanting to infuse optimism into the conversation. Elisabeth shook her head. ―She‘s strong, for so little, but most likely she has only a few months left. Few ever survive MLD after they been diagnosed as young as her.‖ Noticing her faraway expression, Aiden said, ―I‘m sorry, I didn‘t mean to make light of her condition.‖ She smiled at him and shook her head gently. ―I understand you wanting to be encouraging. I guess I‘m the one who brought up so much talk of tragedy, after all.‖ Blushing, she gazed out the window, where the flurries continued to dance in circles. She stared silently, hypnotically, toward the bare branches of the elms and hickories trembling in the breeze. She turned and looked at Aiden straightly. ―We don‘t talk much about it.‖ She reapplied the towel over his forehead. ―It‘s good to have someone to talk to about these things. That‘s partly why I‘m glad God placed you in our lives. I like talking to you about things. Isn‘t it right to want to have someone to confide in? For all of us, not only for Daniel.‖ Taken off guard by her underscoring Daniel, Aiden blinked. ―I… I think it‘s right to want to talk about things with people.‖

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―Daniel‘s always lived in a shell,‖ Elisabeth said. ―But ever since Esther and the baby died, it only got worse. You do know about Esther and Zachariah, don‘t you?‖ Aiden nodded. He looked into her gray-blue eyes. She spoke to him the way she most likely did her students at the one-room schoolhouse where she taught. For the moment, her gentle manner calmed him. Nice having someone care for him rather than push him aside like a nuisance, the way Daniel and some of the others had lately. ―Daniel can be as closed-mouthed as any of us,‖ Elisabeth said. ―I‘m glad you two are friends. He needs someone to share his feelings with, considering all the tragedy he‘s been through.‖ In the ensuing silence, Elisabeth applied the damp towel to Aiden‘s face. He wondered how much Elisabeth grasped. Had she guessed he and Daniel were living together in Montana, like a married couple, like Mark and Heidi now were in Daniel‘s former bedroom across the hall? Had the rest of the family pieced everything together too? Elisabeth had never married. Daniel had said she hadn‘t even courted anyone since she was a teenager. Young and pretty, surely Elisabeth attracted many men. They must argue among each other on Church Sundays who got to drive her home from the gmays. There was no reason Elisabeth would want to refuse them all. Perhaps there was something about her that gave her more insight than he had assumed. ―Are you bothered that Daniel and me moved to Montana?‖ He reddened, thinking how bold he‘d been to leap straight to the heart of the issue, as indirectly as his words might have come. But between the two of them, he sensed there was little doubt what he‘d alluded to. Elisabeth paused. She looked away, cheeks pink. Standing resolutely, she walked into the hallway, where he observed her opening the bottom drawer of a pine sideboard and reaching her hand deep underneath folded linens. She brought back into the room what looked like a sketchpad. Her arms trembled slightly as she cradled the pad to her chest. ―The ministers say to draw people‘s faces is hochmut,‖ she said. ―But one day, I figure my pride got the best of me. No one was around, so I took out my sketchpad, and I drew Daniel and Esther from 84

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memory, a few months before they married. I used the light coming through my bedroom window.‖ She gazed at the sketchpad. Slowly opening the cover, she held the pad at arm‘s length and revealed the drawing to Aiden. Aiden remained still. He merely admired the drawing from bed. The sketch showed an amazingly accurate portrait of Daniel before he had grown a beard. Next to him, Aiden gathered, was his deceased wife, Esther. He had never seen any images of her before. Since the Amish eschew photographs, no pictures of her hung from the walls or were tucked away inside family photo albums. Esther appeared rather attractive. Her face, framed by her bonnet, showed soft features, naturally pretty. A light smile curled her lips. She looked deferential and happy. This time, the pang of sadness for the loss of her short life came not for Daniel‘s sake but for hers. Unlike Esther, Daniel looked forlorn. Elisabeth had drawn him stern, sad. Surprised at the sharp detail, Aiden was riveted on Daniel. She had captured him perfectly, perhaps too perfectly. The somberness in his eyes cut into Aiden, as if Daniel were standing before him. ―You have much talent,‖ he said. ―I drew them, thinking the way I saw Esther and Daniel together,‖ Elisabeth said. ―You can see how sweet Esther looks. But Daniel, I was surprised myself how I had drawn him. Maybe God was working through me, wanting me to see firsthand what I was afraid to admit. I suspected Daniel was unhappy, that he didn‘t really want to marry Esther. It was only after looking at what I had drawn did I realize I‘d been right.‖ She gazed at the drawing, held the pad to her side. ―I hid the pad away in the sideboard in the hallway. I know it was wrong, but, like I said, I couldn‘t help but draw them.‖ Turning resignedly for the sideboard, Elisabeth tucked the sketchpad back in the bottom drawer, careful to lift the linens without ruffling them, and returned to Aiden‘s bedside. ―Promise you won‘t tell anyone,‖ she said, smoothing the front of her apron. ―I promise.‖ 85

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Someone moved by the door. Aiden sat up, expecting Daniel to walk in. Dejected when Rachel poked her head into the room, he slumped farther into the bed. ―Everything okay in here?‖ Rachel asked. ―He‘s doing better,‖ Elisabeth answered on Aiden‘s behalf, as if he were one of her fledgling students. ―His fever broke.‖ ―Goot.‖ Without another word, Rachel left. Aiden and Elisabeth exchanged questioning looks. Uncomfortable, he turned away and sipped more of the herbal tea.

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Chapter Ten

―IF

YOU‘RE driving into town, do you mind stopping by Kevin

Hassler‘s newspaper office to pick up some labels for me?‖ Rachel had stepped off the stairwell and was giving Daniel a weary look. ―I had him print up some labels for my baked and canned goods last week,‖ she said. ―He should have them ready by now.‖ Daniel stood by the front door, black felt hat in hands, his fingers massaging the brim. He was on his way to the hardware store in Henry to buy a few supplies for the woodshop, since he‘d noticed Mark had run low on some items, most likely forgotten with the chaos from the wedding planning. He‘d felt a bit self-conscious his mother had noticed that he and Aiden had driven the Suburban to the farm. (Aiden had complained about feeling too tired to trek the two miles from the inn.) But now that she wanted to take advantage of his having a truck—and apparently, she had even employed Kevin Hassler‘s modern printer— the awkwardness had lessened. ―Your goods must be selling fast if you need to print out your labels,‖ he said. ―You used to handwrite them.‖ ―Ach, takes too much time now,‖ she said. ―Things really started to pick up at the flea market, especially with the holidays. And now with Gretchen and Leah, my hands are never free for myself.‖ ―I can imagine how hectic. At least the wedding is over and done with.‖ Rachel arched her eyebrows. ―Ya, this one. But soon it‘ll be Grace‘s turn, then David‘s. Who knows, maybe someday you‘ll even get remarried.‖ Her kapp framed that same passive-aggressive stare

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Daniel remembered getting as far back as when he was a toddler and had done something to earn her disapproval. Wanting to avoid a quarrel, he turned for the door. ―Best get going, then,‖ he said. ―Make sure you give Mr. Hassler something for his efforts,‖ Rachel called to him before he shut the door behind him. Flurries continued to fall when Daniel climbed into the driver‘s seat of the Suburban. Like the large flakes that danced by his windshield, his thoughts came in directionless swirls. His mother clearly had questions for him, questions about why he had called off his wedding with Tara. The same nagging questions his father had had no trouble throwing at him the other day in Gertrude‘s stall. Why should they care? He was man enough to make his own decisions. Yet why did the guilt press on him for evading their wondering eyes? Upstairs in the house, Aiden probably had questions for him too—like why Daniel hadn‘t come to check on him while he rested from the flu. Daniel never did have the best bedside manner. The minute he‘d spied Aiden getting sick from his woodshop window, he should‘ve driven him back to the inn. For now, he figured it best to leave him be. He was in good hands with his mother and Elisabeth. Best to let things lie still rather than stir up suspicions. He was lucky—and surprised—none of the ministers had cornered him during the wedding reception yesterday. He supposed they had forgotten to speak to him, despite his father‘s warning that they would. He hoped to make it back to Montana before the ministers seized an opportunity to grill him. In town, he drove past the family‘s vacant furniture shop. Briefly, he wondered if it could be possible to move back to Henry and reopen it. He reflected on the times he‘d spent there, manning the shop, usually in the company of his two younger brothers. Were those days gone forever? He stopped by the hardware store first, where he purchased boxes of fasteners, hinges, and magnetic catches. After making small talk with the store clerk, he left his purchases on the front seat of the truck and walked to The Henry Blade, two blocks down the street. 88

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―Hello, Kevin Hassler,‖ Daniel said, stepping inside the small office. The heater was working overtime. He concealed his cringe from the hot blast of the electric baseboards. Daniel never understood why the Englishers always needed to crank up everything full blast. ―Why, Daniel Schrock.‖ Kevin stood from behind his desk. ―How have you been? Aiden stopped by the other day. Back in town for Mark‘s wedding too, I suppose?‖ ―Ya, that‘s the case.‖ ―It was yesterday, wasn‘t it? Hope it went well.‖ ―Everyone had a good time.‖ ―That‘s good to hear.‖ Daniel glanced at the woman typing at a desk. She looked familiar. Some local English girl he recalled seeing hanging out with a few rumspringa youth when he was younger. When Kevin did not bother to introduce them to each other, Daniel wasted no time mentioning what had brought him. ―Mom wanted me to pick up some labels she had you print for her.‖ ―Ah, yes. Those labels. They‘re right over…. Where are they, Carolyn?‖ The woman stopped typing only long enough to point a large finger at a foldout table by the window, close enough Daniel could lay a hand on it. ―There they are.‖ Kevin smiled. ―Carolyn printed them up.‖ ―Awful nice of you both.‖ Daniel glanced over at the shoebox on the table. Either Kevin or the woman named Carolyn had written on the lid in clear block lettering, all capitals: LABELS FOR MRS. RACHEL SHROCK. Daniel inwardly chuckled at the misspelling of the family‘s name. ―I‘m glad to see your mother selling enough of her canned goods she needs the extra labels,‖ Kevin said. ―Things seem to be picking up everywhere, I figure.‖ Daniel reached into his coat pocket and took a twenty-dollar bill from his wallet and handed it to Kevin. ―Before I forget, for your efforts.‖ ―No, Daniel, that‘s not necessary.‖ Kevin waved his hand in front of his face. ―I‘m glad I could help.‖ 89

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Daniel stuffed the twenty back in his wallet. He wanted to leave. A sweat built inside his winter jacket, and he hated the effort needed to make small talk with Englishers he hardly knew. He picked up the shoebox. ―I‘ll tell Mom to drop off some of her baked goods for you, then.‖ ―I‘d love that.‖ Kevin grinned wider. ―Have a good Christmas.‖ Daniel nodded to both Kevin and Carolyn as he edged backward toward the shussly cardboard Santa hanging on the door. ―You too, Daniel,‖ Kevin said. ―Say hello to your family for me.‖ Back outside, Daniel relished the cool air. Something repressive hovered in that office, more than the heat. He hated being indebted to anyone, particularly an Englisher. Kevin was gracious enough. But that woman. She had made him feel like an intruder. He wanted to take care of a few other things before returning to the farm. He welcomed the long, relaxing drive through Frederick County even while the flurries changed over to a steady snowfall. He stopped by his old farm. Only the slightest impression was left in the ground where the farmhouse had once stood, the same farmhouse where an emergency crew had found the bodies of his wife, Esther, and son, Zachariah. When he had decided not to rebuild after the destruction, the community had filled in the basement hole, along with everything in his past, it seemed. Staring through the windshield at the field he currently rented to an English farmer, he reflected on his past life. Much of that life was gone. His wife, his son, his farm. Hadn‘t everything happened for a reason? Wasn‘t it all God‘s will? Aiden had once told him he would like to become Amish and live with Daniel on a farm. Daniel had snickered. The world‘s first gay Amish couple. Both realized that was impossible, at least officially. The idea was absurd. Like the Amish, he and Aiden lived semisubsistent, but they would never be welcomed into a strict ultraorthodox culture. The community simply had no capability to absorb such nonconformity. Even Aiden had said he understood how accepting gay couples into the community would invariably change the Amish way of life. 90

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Daniel mentally shrugged. What did any of it matter? Everything made less and less sense to him. Communities, lifestyles. He only wanted to be himself, to be his own man. Hidden away in the mountains, far from the many ordnungs wrapped around the infinite competing subcultures within the United States. Sometimes he tired of it all. The individual was the smallest minority on earth, he reflected, suddenly coming to an understanding of the passage he‘d read in one of Aiden‘s tattered paperbacks, scattered about the cabin. But as he gazed over his land, speckled with snow, where he had once lived with his wife and baby, where his barn had once housed his livestock, where he had once worked in his woodshop, before an F-3 tornado had disintegrated it, he wondered if he had the stomach to leave everything behind. He made a mental note to telephone the English farmer whom he rented his land to. Although no house stood on it, Mr. Sweeney used the land merely for extra acreage. Many English farmers owned or rented land scattered over a multicounty area to harvest larger yields. He decided he needed to speak with Mr. Sweeney about something urgent. He would call him after supper, when he was certain he‘d be in for the night. Twenty minutes later, he found himself in the town of Unity. Why he had driven that far, fifteen miles from his family‘s farm, when he had no business there, he did not know. He recognized the fabric shop where Tara Hostetler had worked while they were engaged. He wondered if she still worked there. Curious, he pulled the truck into the shop‘s small parking lot and went inside. ―Frehlicher Grishtdaag,‖ Tara said when she spotted him by the entrance, where he stood as still as a snowman. ―Merry Christmas,‖ Daniel mumbled, taken aback by her pleasant greeting. He‘d had no idea what to expect coming into the shop, but he‘d thought she might be angry with him for how he had left everything in June. ―What brings you to a fabric shop, Daniel Schrock?‖ ―Thought I‘d stop by, was in the neighborhood and remembered you work here.‖ 91

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―I‘m surprised,‖ she said, one dark blonde eyebrow raised. ―You never could remember where I worked while we were engaged.‖ Shame heated Daniel‘s cheeks. ―I could be forgetful at times.‖ ―You were a distracted one, for sure,‖ Tara said, curling her naturally pink lips into a smile. ―So, why after everything that‘s happened, did you think of visiting me at work now?‖ ―I‘d feel kinda shussly if I was in town and didn‘t say hi. After all, we were engaged once, Tara.‖ Tara fluttered a laugh. ―We were more than engaged, Fickle Dan. We were practically kneeling before the bishop.‖ Daniel flushed again, recalling when he‘d broken his engagement with Tara. The stress had mounted so high he feared he may chicken out, go along with the long-awaited ceremony anyway, and never see Aiden or Montana again. He never did reveal to Aiden how perilously close he came to letting him and their dream of living together in a rustic cabin drift away, like dandelion seeds in the wind. Once he took that fragile, terrifying step and faced Tara while they sat in his courting buggy in the driveway of her family‘s farm, he realized there was no backing down. Tara merely responded to his rejecting her with ―Fickle Dan.‖ Afterward, she climbed down from the carriage without even a glance back. ―I never did get to fully apologize,‖ Daniel said. ―I am sorry.‖ ―No need to be,‖ she said. ―In a way, I figure, I should thank you.‖ ―Thank me?‖ ―I wouldn‘t want to be married to someone the rest of my life who was unsure of wanting me as his wife,‖ Tara said. ―I figure in a way it took some courage to do what you did. Besides, I kinda saw it coming.‖ Daniel lowered his head. She spoke the truth. He had always supposed she‘d expected him to back out of their engagement. It had been such a long one. Near six months. So much time to mull things over. Yet he‘d never predicted he would back out a mere five days before their nuptials. But he never foresaw bumping into Aiden Cermak

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in the middle of the Montana backcountry six months after his father had banished Aiden from the community, either. Tara moved to a kiosk of buttons, ribbons, and zippers. She appeared to be sorting them, keeping herself busy while she spoke. ―I‘m courting someone new,‖ she said, with a hint of pride in her tone. ―He‘s very nice. He‘s not from here, but he‘s been for a visit a few times, and we write letters to each other often.‖ ―That‘s goot, I‘m glad to hear it.‖ Daniel had learned about Tara‘s new boyfriend through one of his mother‘s letters. His father had also mentioned it a few days ago. Daniel had sensed Samuel had used the information as kindling to hasten him to ―patch things up‖ with her. But he hadn‘t wandered into the fabric shop to renew their courtship. That would be shussly. A chubby English woman stepped inside the shop. She headed straight for the back, where Daniel heard another woman, probably Tara‘s boss, greet her. Daniel, still clutching his hat, wanted to leave. He must look like a fool to any woman finding him standing in the middle of a fabric shop. ―Perhaps we should go get something to eat,‖ he blurted. He supposed offering lunch was the proper thing to do. He never had been good with goodbyes, and at least lunch would get him out of the shop. Tara gazed at him, her mouth puckered. ―Let me tell Mrs. Harrington I‘ll be taking my break.‖

AT

THE Dairy Queen across the street, they ate cheeseburgers and

onion rings at a booth. The lunch crowd had gone, and he and Tara had the place mostly to themselves. Daniel, both relieved and anxious, nibbled at his food. ―How was Mark‘s wedding?‖ Tara asked. Daniel, after swallowing to allow himself to speak, told her a few details of the wedding, leaving out the game of slap-a-pig. ―You shoulda come,‖ he said. ―I know Mom called on you with an invitation.‖

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―My hands were busy. I couldn‘t make it,‖ Tara said. ―I‘ll see everyone at Christmas services, anyway. Will you be there? You‘re still in the church, aren‘t you?‖ Tara‘s needling question forced him to sit up. Why was answering that question so difficult each time someone had asked him? Perhaps because the answer eluded him. Tara probably sensed his unease and clarified her reason for asking. ―I see you drove that big truck.‖ She nodded across the street toward the parking lot, where the Suburban slowly accumulated snow. ―I don‘t figure anyone still in the church would be permitted to drive such a beast.‖ ―I‘m still in the church,‖ Daniel said, his same pat response. Technically, he spoke the truth. But how long before the ministers came after him with more forceful words than Tara‘s or his father‘s? Unlikely he could evade their judgmental eyes the entire duration of his stay. Yes, he had been lucky to dodge the ministers at Mark‘s wedding, but at some point, he would have to face them and supply them—and the entire community—with a firmer answer. An English couple entered the restaurant. They ogled Daniel and Tara on their way to the counter. Probably stopping off from the nearby Interstate for a late lunch, out-of-towners unused to running into the old-fashioned Amish eating in fast food establishments. Daniel eyeballed them. Grimacing, he turned back to his cheeseburger. ―You probably wouldn‘t be permitted to speak with me if I wasn‘t in the church,‖ he said, chortling off his reference to the shunning. Tara‘s mouth remained taut. Deciding it best to change the topic, he asked Tara how she and her new boyfriend had met. ―My cousin encouraged him to write me,‖ Tara replied. ―We been corresponding since September.‖ Daniel was happy for Tara‘s enthusiasm. The guilt over breaking up with her dwindled, now that he knew she‘d gotten on with her life. Yet a strange sensation pinched him. It was that same creeping feeling he‘d had while watching Heidi‘s beefy cousin swat Aiden‘s behind during the game of slap-a-pig. A sensation he wanted to ignore. ―I‘m going to visit him after Christmas,‖ Tara said, ―during the Epiphany, with him and his family.‖ 94

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Daniel remembered hearing a rumor the man she was courting lived in Maryland, and he asked her if this was the case. Tara nodded as she sipped her vanilla milkshake through the straw. How odd, Daniel thought with an internal chuckle, that they both should be courting men from Maryland. ―And where are you living now?‖ Tara asked, gnawing on an onion ring. Daniel flushed. How much of his life could he reveal to Tara without stringing her along with lies like he had most everyone else? Perhaps asking her to lunch was not such a good idea. Putting down his root beer, he said, ―I‘m living in Montana.‖ ―Ach, I did hear something about you living out west,‖ Tara said. ―How do you like it?‖ ―I like it fine. The mountains reach to the sky.‖ ―I never seen the mountains,‖ Tara said. ―Aaron, that‘s the man I‘m courting in Maryland, he says where he lives they got big mountains. I can‘t wait to see them. Are you living in an Amish settlement in Montana?‖ ―Well, I live near Rose Crossing. That‘s a small settlement by Glacier National Park.‖ ―Sounds like a wunderbar goot place to live.‖ They talked a bit about Montana, the region of western Maryland where Aaron lived as a dairy farmer, the mountains. Daniel, nibbling like a bird, was unable to let his hunger override the strange sensation of sitting across from his former fiancée. Only a handful of months had lapsed since he‘d called off their wedding. In an odd way, he felt as if they still courted. Their past dates had gone much like their lunch at Dairy Queen. Self-conscious attempts at conversation, desperate searches for any kind of common ground. Despite the awkwardness, there had always existed an air of amicability, mutual respect, and good nature. Neither disliked the other, no matter how few interests they shared. They finished eating, and after saying their goodbyes by his truck, Daniel headed back to the farmhouse. Tara seemed to hold little grudge against him. He was glad. But had she been sincere? She always had a 95

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way about her. She shared his mother‘s characteristics in some ways: stubborn, peppered with shrewd charm. Driving along, he wondered what life would‘ve been like if he had gone through with his marriage promise to her. How happy would they be today? Had he been selfish in calling off their engagement a mere week before the wedding day? What would his and Aiden‘s lives be like if he hadn‘t? Would Aiden still be in Montana, living alone? Would their lives have been any worse—or perhaps better? And children? Nice to have kinner running about, he mused, barely noticing the windshield wipers brush aside the fluffy snow. His son, Zach, had been one of the best things that had ever happened to him. Would he ever have the chance to hold his own baby in his arms again?

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Chapter Eleven

―VO IS yeder?‖ Rachel did not bother to look up when Daniel drifted into the kitchen and asked her where everyone was. Seated at the table, she held Gretchen firmly against her chest. She hoisted the baby higher and repositioned herself on the bench. ―Everybody‘s out running about,‖ she answered almost mechanically. ―Your dad and David went to meet off some of the relatives at the train depot. Mark and Heidi are making the rounds, thanking everyone for coming to their wedding. Elisabeth took Grace and Moriah to the schoolhouse to help ready things for the pageant her class is putting on for the community tomorrow. Her kinner are on Christmas break, but they been practicing all week.‖ ―And Leah and Aiden?‖ ―Sleeping in their rooms.‖ ―House should be nice and quiet for a change.‖ Daniel set the shoebox on the table. ―I picked up those labels from Kevin Hassler, like you asked.‖ ―Danke. Something to eat?‖ Thoughts of his mother‘s tasty cooking set his stomach grumbling. He had been too nervous to eat much during lunch with Tara. One meager cheeseburger and batch of onion rings barely covered a lunch for Daniel. ―Ya,‖ he said, ―something to eat would be good, if no trouble.‖ Only when Rachel took the straight pins from her kapp and refastened her blouse under her cape bib did Daniel realize she had 97

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been nursing Gretchen. Cheeks burning, he averted his eyes to his grimy boots. Wrapping the dozing baby tightly in her swathing, Rachel laid her in the bassinet by the ovens, warm from baking apple pies, which Daniel could smell. ―Everything‘s trouble,‖ she said with a sigh. ―But God gives us burdens to make us appreciate His Kingdom all the more, I figure.‖ Daniel, unsure what to make of his mother‘s somber mood, sat at the table. He supposed the newborn, the extra work, and being alone downstairs in a quiet house on a snowy winter day after nonstop commotion could make anyone gloomy. ―Leftovers from the reception?‖ ―That‘s goot.‖ Daniel watched his mother prepare him a plate. Shuffling about the kitchen, she took the applesauce and creamed celery from the refrigerator and spooned what remained onto a plate. After slicing a few slabs of trail bologna, she added that to the plate and set it under Daniel‘s beard. She put everything back into the refrigerator and sat opposite him, where she began cutting peeled Granny Smith apples into a large bowl. He figured she‘d been in the process of cutting them when Gretchen had demanded her feeding. Without looking at him, Rachel said, ―Do you think you‘ll be staying in Montana long term?‖ ―What do you mean?‖ Daniel asked, swallowing hard. ―I was wondering.‖ Rachel focused on her task. ―Is this Montana living going to last forever, or is it some kind of stint?‖ The aroma of baking apple pies clashed with the bitter emotions nudging his insides. ―I suppose I‘m there for good,‖ he said, forking more food into his mouth. ―Why do you need to know?‖ ―Only asking.‖ Rachel chopped the apples steadily, never once raising her eyes. ―No need to get fresh.‖ ―Sorry, but you and Dad don‘t need to worry over me so much.‖ ―Is it wrong for parents to worry over their kinner?‖

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Filled with a strange daring by his mother‘s reflective expression, Daniel said with a pronounced grin, his cheeks bulging, ―I would think you‘d be happy I was getting past Esther and Zachariah, living a life in Montana, if that‘s what it takes for me to get over things.‖ ―But you‘re so far away. How are we to be of any help to you?‖ ―Your arms are full now.‖ He nodded sideways toward the bassinet where Gretchen napped. ―You have the newborn. There‘s enough for you to worry about, don‘t you think? I‘m a grown man now anyway, in my late twenties.‖ Only the knife chopping into the cutting board and Daniel‘s fork scraping against his plate broke the long stretch of silence. ―What of this promise Aiden Cermak said you had made for him?‖ Rachel said. ―The one I heard him mention to you during the wedding reception.‖ Her hand momentarily froze, the knife poised over an apple half. Going back to chopping, she said, ―You know I don‘t like secrets and whispers in my house.‖ Lowering his eyes, Daniel realized his mother must have overheard his and Aiden‘s discussion after he‘d come downstairs from convening with the ministers and Mark and Heidi. How much had she pieced together? He carefully plotted out what to tell her. He did not wish to lie, but the lies flowed easier each day. She wanted to get to the truth, but how much? Was she willing to hear it to the rotten core? His mother had a tendency to scratch for facts without wanting to find any. Everyone in the household knew that. Deciding to hold back his words, he chomped into a bite of trail bologna and chewed like a cow while his mother chopped the apples with extra vigor. ―A lot of promises being made around here,‖ Rachel said, her gaze fixed on the apple slices falling from her busy knife. ―I heard Elisabeth and Aiden making promises to each other a little while ago.‖ Daniel scrunched his forehead. What secrets could Aiden and Elisabeth need to share with each other? He studied Rachel‘s downturned face, awash with worry and dread. Anger rose inside him. But not at his mother. At himself. He should never have allowed Aiden

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to talk him into bringing him back to Illinois. If only he had practiced more restraint. Rachel shook her head. The strings of her kapp swept across her bib. ―Maybe your dad‘s right. Outsiders bring too much distraction. Maybe he was right to ask Aiden to leave when he did last year. Maybe he shoulda not come back.‖ It was as if Rachel had read Daniel‘s mind. Despite agreeing with his mother‘s concerns, he wanted to defend Aiden. ―He saved us from tragedy. You can‘t forget, Mom,‖ he said. Rachel quickly stood and began to shake brown sugar and cinnamon on top of the apple slices. After mixing the spices and the apples with her bare hands, she filled two pie shells. Next she moved to the sink and rinsed her hands. From experience, Daniel understood that his mother, in her special way, had terminated their conversation. As always, she had no desire to know the bare bones of the truth. Observing his mother‘s back, he admitted they were being pulled apart, but by more than simple lies. Aiden‘s presence confused and obscured their two worlds, but much more skulked between them. Regardless of circumstances, sons grew up and left their mothers. Simply by his mother‘s indifference to her own search for answers, Daniel grasped there was some truth to the saying he had come across while skimming through one of Aiden‘s paperbacks: ―You can‘t go home again.‖ Digesting this profound yet disturbing realization, Daniel heard, above the rush of water splashing against the sink, the front door open and feet stomping out snow. A moment later, Samuel appeared under the kitchen archway. He clutched his black felt hat with both hands, his fingers flexing over the brim. Above his grizzled beard, he tightened his lips. His gray eyes, wide and full of apprehension, fixed on Daniel. Daniel was about to ask his father what bothered him, but subsequently, he saw his answer. Bishop Hershberger and the three ministers, including Reverend Yoder, silently lumbered into place behind Samuel, lining up like ravens perched on a fence. ―The ministers would like to speak with you, Daniel,‖ Samuel said in a low voice.

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―Do they need to speak with him now?‖ Rachel asked. Samuel‘s sharp glance pushed her back against the sink. She gripped her hand towel, her eyes wide and searching, roving from the ministers to Samuel, settling on Daniel. Daniel stood, his fingertips firm on the tabletop. ―I‘m ready to speak.‖ ―Goot,‖ Samuel said. ―Since the house is occupied, why don‘t you go to the barn.‖ He looked to the ministers, and the bishop nodded his approval. ―We‘ll wait for you out in the barn while you get your coat and gloves,‖ Bishop Hershberger said to Daniel in his deep baritone. A few minutes later, Daniel, coatless and gloveless, stepped inside the barn. The ministers stood alongside the miniature horse stall, peering at Daniel as he approached them. Only Reverend Yoder turned his gaze to the ground, yet none of them seemed to hold the bitterness in their eyes as did he. Bishop Hershberger raised his auburn beard. He spoke in Pennsylvania German, which signified he meant business. ―We want to speak with you about some things worrying us, Daniel. We wanted to speak with you during Mark and Heidi‘s wedding celebration but thought it more proper to wait until today.‖ Daniel refrained from responding right away. He remained firm, stoic. He was a grown man. What did he have to fear? Yet fear taunted him. With his boots planted on the straw-covered ground and his bare hands firm by his sides, he said in German, ―What is it you have to say?‖ Another minister, Abel Gingerich, said, ―We want to understand what brings you back to Henry.‖ ―My brother‘s wedding, of course,‖ Daniel said, screwing his eyes. He clenched and unclenched his hands, drawing warm blood into them. ―Yes,‖ the bishop said, ―we understand that, but are you here to stay?‖ Daniel‘s hesitation bothered him, perhaps even more than it did the ministers, who continued to eye him with skepticism. Of course he 101

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intended to go back to Montana. He had a life there. With Aiden. His cabin and his woodshop were there. They had signed a one-year lease with the Missoula couple who rented it to them. Yet his indecision pricked him like a thorn. ―No,‖ Daniel finally said. He spit the words from his mouth like piping hot kernels. ―I… I do not plan on… staying in Henry.‖ ―You intend to return to Montana?‖ ―That is… that is the case.‖ ―And what is it you are doing there?‖ the third reverend, Emanuel Troyer, asked. The reverend‘s words clawed at Daniel. He must temper his irritation. He never had liked nosiness, no matter who displayed it. But this was his community‘s way. If the ministers believed a member of the flock was floundering, they had a responsibility to intervene. It was how things had been done in his denomination for more than half a millennium. Now that the judgmental and accusatory eyes of the ministers were aimed at Daniel, bile rose in his throat. ―I am living there as a woodworker,‖ he said. He wanted to switch to English, but it would be disrespectful unless the ministers did so first. ―There are many trees, at low cost due to bountiful supply. The pine is beautiful.‖ ―You lived as a woodworker here,‖ Bishop Hershberger said, flinging Daniel a sidelong look. ―We have hundreds of woodworkers in Frederick County. Wood cannot be any cheaper there than it is here. We sell our work throughout the country, the world, even. I do not understand your response.‖ Daniel licked his chapped lips. He had to will his arms by his side to keep from tugging at his beard. ―Would I be wrong to say I like it there and want to call it my home?‖ ―No,‖ the bishop said, shaking his head. He closed his eyes as if reflecting on his words. Looking hard at Daniel, he said, ―It is not wrong. I am sure Montana is a beautiful sight to behold. I hear the mountains and the trees reach near to Heaven. I can understand anyone wanting to live in such a place.‖ ―Then what is wrong?‖ Daniel asked. 102

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Bishop Hershberger sighed. ―I think we are taking this from the wrong approach. It is not so much where you are living but what you are doing while you are there. We have spoken with the bishop from the Amish settlement in Rose Crossing. He tells us you keep far from the community. Is this true?‖ Holding the bishop‘s gaze, Daniel said, ―I have been busy with work orders.‖ ―Each of us is busy, Daniel. But we do not hide from our neighbors and shirk responsibilities to the church and the community.‖ ―Word has come back to us you have not gone to any of the gmays,‖ Reverend Troyer added. A barn cat crept along the railing of the miniature horse stall. Daniel watched it delicately cross the railing, stretch, leap off, and rush into an unseen corner of the barn. Reverend Gingerich folded his arms across his bulky black jacket and swept his beard over his forearms. Steam curled from his nostrils. ―This is not good,‖ he said. ―No one can refrain from going to the church services.‖ ―Daniel,‖ the bishop began, glaring at him from under the brim of his black hat, ―do you plan on leaving the church?‖ Daniel‘s words wedged in his throat. Balanced between two worlds—the plain and the modern—at some point he‘d be forced to make a choice. Reverend Yoder, during this time, still kept his icy blue eyes on the ground. He seemed as ill at ease as Daniel. More than anything, Daniel wanted to point to the reverend and shout, ―You question me when you have a murderer in your midst!‖ He squeezed his hands into fists to temper his bitterness. Ravens rustling in the rafters overhead took his mind from the senseless and unkind contemplations pattering through his head. Inhaling, he said, ―No, Reverend, I do not plan on leaving the church.‖ ―You are driving a truck, and word is you carry a cell phone outside of work,‖ Bishop Hershberger said. ―These are things that make us question your sincerity. And no one has any knowledge of what your life is like in Montana. You cannot live by your own rules, Daniel.‖

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―We think it best if perhaps you move back to Henry,‖ Reverend Gingerich said. Daniel recognized the sneeze of his favorite buggy horse, Gertrude. For a moment, he appreciated the distraction. It allowed him precious seconds to organize his thoughts. ―I am not sure I can do that.‖ ―Then you need to move closer to the Rose Crossing settlement,‖ Reverend Troyer said. ―You need to seek guidance from the bishop there, and from the community.‖ ―You are on perilous ground, Daniel,‖ Bishop Hershberger said. ―I do not wish to threaten you with the shunning, but you must realize it is a possibility.‖ ―There will be no need for the shunning,‖ Daniel said, pursing his lips. ―I recall the day I baptized you,‖ the bishop said, softening his tone. ―I believed you were as sturdy as anyone to uphold the Ordnung. Now….‖ He lowered his eyes and shook his head. ―Now, I am almost ashamed to think I might have been wrong.‖ ―You haven‘t been wrong.‖ Daniel slid into English, needing to stand up for his character. ―I always uphold the Ordnung. I‘ll always stand by it, wherever I live, whatever I do.‖ ―Then how do you explain the truck, the fancy ways?‖ Bishop Hershberger said, falling into English also. Daniel could not explain. He didn‘t like to have so many contraptions. But, like for many Amish, avoiding them came not so easily. ―I live as plainly in Montana as I did here.‖ He grinned, realizing the partial truth to this. ―I used a cell phone when I worked at the family‘s furniture shop here in town, and we had a computer too. You permitted it.‖ ―That isn‘t the same thing,‖ Bishop Hershberger said. ―We permit computers only for our businesses. Without some technology, we would have no means to compete with the Englishers.‖

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―I use my contraptions back in Montana for business too,‖ Daniel said. ―I use the truck to carry the furniture I make to the service in Kalispell that drop ships my orders.‖ ―You drove your truck many miles from Montana to attend your brother‘s wedding. How is that business?‖ Reverend Troyer‘s bushy eyebrows knitted together. ―It‘s also the same English vehicle that will take you back to Montana, to some cabin hidden away in the woods.‖ ―Using contraptions like cell phones and computers aren‘t supposed to steal you away from your family and community, Daniel,‖ the bishop said. ―And we‘ve never permitted the use of modern vehicles unless it pertained to work for an English employer.‖ Fishing for the right words to defend himself, anything to stave off their burning need to control him, Daniel pressed his beard tight to his neck. Hollow thoughts stomped through his mind. At a loss as to what to say, Daniel slumped forward. Bishop Hershberger returned to speaking in Pennsylvania German. ―There are many things here I do not like, Daniel. You made a pledge to the church, and we are uncertain you are serious about committing to it. We thought long and hard on this, and apparently we have more thinking to do.‖ Holding his head firm, he gestured to the ministers to his left. ―For now, we will go. But Daniel, we will be back to speak with you some more. To remind you, the shunning looms near.‖

AIDEN, needing to use the only bathroom in the house, shuffled past Rachel and Samuel‘s bedroom downstairs. The door was closed, but he heard their voices coming from the other side. Despite his better decorum, intuition told him to stay put. A few feet from the door, he listened in, his ears burning. They were not yelling, but clearly they were having a disagreement. Samuel‘s voice was stern, sterner than Aiden had ever heard, even when he reprimanded the children. They spoke in Pennsylvania German but mixed with English, making their words more complicated to understand. From what he pieced together, enough 105

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of what they said made him uncomfortable. A bitter taste burned the back of his tongue. Something that sounded like a steam iron hissed in the background. Rachel was probably ironing clothes with her gas-powered iron while she and Samuel shared words. He smiled inwardly. The Amish always found ways to stay busy, even while arguing. They were discussing something about Daniel and the ministers having a confrontation. About their anxiety over what might happen if Daniel failed to say the proper things. Rachel sounded frantic, but Samuel consoled her. She seemed troubled about many things. Samuel grew frustrated. What Aiden heard next shook him. Samuel said, ―You should not have asked da mann in‘s haus. Ich vill that he gasta today.‖ Aiden loosely interpreted this in his mind to mean, ―We were wrong to have asked him to come back. Now he is in our house and disrupting our lives.‖ Although he never mentioned Aiden by name, he could not help but shiver, knowing Samuel had been referring to him. Like a fox, he slinked into the bathroom, took care of business, and quietly hurried past Rachel and Samuel‘s shut door, slipping on his boots and grabbing his coat and gloves before dodging outside. He stopped short on the stone footpath when he noticed two unfamiliar buggies in the driveway. The snow, falling steadily, dusted the buggies with a thin coat. The horses were still hitched to the buggies, so he figured their owners would not be long. He crept to the barn, looking for Daniel. He halted. Daniel, his back to Aiden, was surrounded by the four ministers from Mark‘s wedding, including Reverend Yoder. He sensed an air of seriousness. Was this what Rachel and Samuel had fretted about in their bedroom? Were the ministers finally confronting Daniel? They appeared on the verge of leaving. Trapped no matter which way he turned, drama swirling around him like the snow, Aiden backed away with light steps and waited behind the buggy shed. He peeked at the ministers climbing into their buggies. After they disappeared down the lane, Aiden approached Daniel, who had wandered outside the barn.

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His coffee-brown eyes told Aiden he did not wish to speak. Aiden watched him silently grab three boxes from the front seat of the Suburban and carry them into the woodshop. Aiden followed after him. The smell of dry sawdust forced Aiden to step back. This was Daniel‘s world. Even back in Montana, he seldom wandered into Daniel‘s woodshop. Drawing in breath, he gazed around at the oldfashioned tools hanging from the walls and set on top of shelves. Daniel had already begun planing an oak plank, his downturned face stern. Aiden shut the door against the snow. ―Daniel?‖ ―Ya?‖ His voice sounded as if he had swallowed the sawdust. Aiden wondered if he should leave him be. He longed to be some solace to him. ―I saw the ministers speaking with you,‖ he said. ―Are you okay?‖ ―Good as expected, I figure.‖ Daniel kept eyes on his project. ―Do you want to talk about it?‖ ―Not much to talk about. They said what I figured they would.‖ ―What was that?‖ ―They wanted to know how serious I am about upholding the Ordnung,‖ Daniel said. ―They wanted to know if I plan to leave the church.‖ He paused. ―They threatened me with the shunning.‖ Aiden‘s stomach tightened. The scraping of the planing lessened his tentativeness, and he stepped closer to Daniel. A final confrontation was everything Aiden had hoped for in coming back to Illinois. A severing of worlds that would give Daniel to him, wholly and completely. Yet Daniel suffered. He kept his voice soft. ―And what did you tell them, Daniel?‖ Daniel waited a moment to answer. ―I didn‘t say much.‖ ―I‘m sorry,‖ Aiden said, ―but you had to face it sooner or later.‖ Daniel‘s hand froze over the plank. The gas lantern above him hissed. In the silence, Daniel seemed to study Aiden. He returned to his planing. ―How do you feel, anyhow?‖ he asked.

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―Much better, thanks.‖ Happy thoughts struggled to break through the muck of what he‘d overheard in the house between Samuel and Rachel. They wished they hadn‘t invited Aiden to Mark‘s wedding. He pushed that unpleasantness aside. No reason to mention it mere minutes after Daniel‘s altercation with the ministers. Daniel had faced enough troubles for one day. ―Your mom and Elisabeth have nice bedside manners,‖ he said, wanting to keep things positive. ―Too bad people in your order can‘t go to college. They would‘ve made fine nurses.‖ ―Ya, Mom and Elisabeth were always helpful whenever one of us got sick.‖ Aiden edged closer. He let his fingertips slide over a smooth oak chest Mark was most likely in the middle of assembling. Suddenly, he wanted to rush to Daniel and throw his arms around him and declare his love for him. But wouldn‘t Daniel resist? ―I am sorry for everything,‖ Aiden said. ―Is there anything I can do?‖ Sighing, Daniel set aside the plane and turned to Aiden. ―Just give me time to think things through.‖ ―Think things through?‖ Daniel placed his large hands on Aiden‘s shoulders. ―I only meant I need time to sort out what to tell the ministers and my family. It won‘t come easy.‖ The pull of Daniel‘s body lured Aiden. He fell into him, and Daniel wrapped his arms around him. The warmth filled Aiden, even through his bulky coat. Daniel‘s beard, which he hadn‘t trimmed since the day they‘d left Montana, scratched his cheeks and forehead. Aiden was about to tell Daniel he loved him when Daniel nudged him away. ―We best be careful,‖ he said, taking a step back. ―We can‘t be stupid after everything with the ministers. How would it look if someone walked in?‖ Aiden wanted to say, ―What does it matter?‖ but he drooped his shoulders and eased off. He watched Daniel work on the plank in 108

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silence. After a while, he wandered outside. He did not wish to go back inside the house, where he was certain Rachel and Samuel had had enough of him. He eventually found himself walking back to the inn. The falling snow cut into his eyes while he trudged along the shoulder.

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Chapter Twelve

WHAT was that dream Daniel had had? Seemed more like a piercing memory of something that had happened. He rubbed his eyes. Staring at the blue haze of morning twilight from his bed, he recalled the horrible sequence of his nightmare. He and Aiden were back in Montana, backpacking through the Swan Range, like they had many times. Daniel turned his back on Aiden only a second. When he twisted around, Aiden had vanished. Someone screamed in the distance. Aiden, his voice full of helplessness, calling out Daniel‘s name. His heart racing, Daniel bushwhacked through bushes and alders using his bare hands, until they were split open and bloodied. Breathless, he came to a clearing. Aiden was shrieking and flailing his arms as a grizzly pinned him to the ground, roaring over him with adze-sized fangs. Daniel wanted to wrestle the beast off Aiden, but the snagging branches of the alder bushes held him back. No matter how hard he struggled, he could not free himself. Yanking and kicking, he watched helplessly as the grizzly dragged Aiden deeper into the forest. Finally, Daniel freed himself. When he was about to rush to Aiden, thick mud clamped onto his boots. The more he fought to wriggle loose, the more the cement-like muck reached up his legs. Aiden‘s screams faded farther and farther into the forest, until nothing but silence remained. Clutching the edge of the bedcovers, he gazed over at Aiden. He looked peaceful in the murky room, snoozing in his bed, unlike in Daniel‘s horrible dream. Unlike before they‘d gone to bed last night. When Daniel had returned to the inn, he‘d made it clear that he did not like Aiden wandering off without telling him and refusing to answer his 110

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cell phone. Aiden had seemed hurt. He‘d barely spoken the rest of the night. Exhausted from the nightmare, Daniel remained in bed. Fortunately, they had a lazy day ahead of them. They had only Elisabeth‘s Christmas pageant to attend. He had promised her last night he would go. By ten-thirty, they‘d dressed and eaten a small breakfast at the inn. Only the crunch of snow under their boots broke the silence as they walked to the farmhouse. Daniel noted how glum Aiden looked. His head hung heavy, and his eyes oozed sadness. Like last night, he had remained quiet most of the morning and right through breakfast. Daniel figured he was still feeling the aftermath of the flu. On top of being still a little annoyed with Daniel for having chewed him out. Daniel decided against trying to make nice. He was knee-deep in his own issues. The ministers‘ imposing words from when they had cornered him in the barn still filled his head. ―The shunning looms near,‖ Bishop Hershberger had said. How serious had he been? Serious enough Daniel‘s father had insisted on a detailed account of their meeting. Daniel had few words. Samuel had expressed annoyance with him, along with a harsh warning to walk the correct path. Afterward, Samuel had marched off to do some chores, as was his way. Daniel swept aside his worries when they reached the driveway. Someone had already hitched Badger to the buggy. The family streamed outside the house. ―Where‘re Elisabeth, Moriah, and Heidi?‖ Daniel asked while everyone scrambled into the buggy. ―Elisabeth had to get to the schoolhouse early to prepare the kinner for the pageant,‖ Rachel told him. She settled in the front seat with baby Gretchen, tightly wrapped in swathing, snug in her lap. Daniel and Aiden squeezed into the back seat. Daniel noticed how Aiden flinched when his mother mentioned Moriah was sick in bed with the flu, and Heidi had volunteered to stay behind to watch over her. ―She‘s in a mood because she won‘t be able to perform her part in the pageant,‖ Grace said as Mark steered Badger down the driveway with the crunch of compacted snow under the wheels. 111

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―She‘s too sick for that, for sure,‖ Rachel said. ―She was up most the night. Must have the same thing Aiden had.‖ From his peripheral gaze, Daniel watched Aiden hunker down in his seat and stare at his knees. The drive to the schoolhouse was mostly quiet. About two hundred people had already crammed inside the one-room schoolhouse when they arrived. Daniel stood with his back against the wall, allowing those shorter than him to have a good view of the makeshift stage where he guessed Elisabeth‘s desk, pushed against the wall, would normally sit. Aiden kept close to the door. Each time Daniel glanced his way, a placid smile curled his lips. Daniel knew him well enough by now—that smile was as artificial as the paper snowflakes dangling from the ceiling. The kinner wore no costumes, but their expressive gestures and clearly well-rehearsed performances made up for the lack of wardrobe as they reenacted Bible stories. A more extroverted boy of about ten recited from the top of his voice Matthew 1, starting with verse 18 onward, while the children acted out each scene. After the reenactments, three older youths with gifted voices sang lulling hymns from the Ausbund. With only a few minor slipups, the children, according to the pleased look on Elisabeth‘s face as she stood off to the side with her hands balled under her chin, carried out their performances mostly as planned. The pageant lasted about an hour, after which they headed back to the farm. A horse-drawn sleigh gliding along a snow-blanketed field caught everyone‘s attention. The driver of the sleigh, Emil Schrock, a distant relative of the Schrocks‘, whom Daniel had known since his schooldays, pulled the walnut-brown gelding closer to the lane and gestured for Mark to stop. ―We‘re heading over to Plank Hill for some sledding,‖ Emil said. ―The Planks are opening up their farm and letting anyone on who shows. Word is they‘re making an afternoon of it.‖ Emil‘s two youngest daughters, twins, popped their ruddy faces above the edge of the sleigh‘s carriage and beamed smiles. ―Please come,‖ they said, almost in unison. ―We‘ll have so much fun.‖ ―Can we go, Dad?‖ Grace said. ―Can we, please?‖ 112

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―I‘d be happy to drive them over,‖ Emil said. ―Your kinner can hop in the back with Sarah and Rhea.‖ ―I think it would be best if they were dressed more properly,‖ Samuel said. ―We‘ll get home so they can change into play clothes.‖ ―Can we take the sleigh?‖ Grace asked. ―Ya, you can take the sleigh,‖ Samuel said. ―If it‘s in good enough shape. Been a few years since we took it out.‖ Emil Schrock nodded with a grin and, snapping the reins, drove the gelding onward while the twins in the back waved gaily. On the way back to the farm, Daniel explained to Aiden the Plank farm was a popular sledding spot with both the Amish and English. The Planks, Amish soybean farmers, owned land that happened to include the highest point in Frederick County, in the southwestern edge where the earth rippled like an unkempt bed. The one-hundred-forty-foot decline was affectionately known as ―Plank Hill.‖ ―Moriah is going to be upset,‖ Grace added, shaking her head. ―She not only missed the pageant, but she‘ll miss the sledding too.‖ Back at the farm, Daniel and Mark pulled the old sleigh, covered with a stiff tarp David and Heidi had brushed free of snow with straw brooms, from behind the buggy shed into the driveway. Samuel worried the runners might be wobbly. With the tarp removed, Daniel inspected the sleigh‘s anatomy and assured his father the components looked fine. Mark and Samuel hitched two of the sturdier Belgians to the sleigh. The plow horses‘ long brown coats curled like sheep‘s manes. Mark, Grace, and David piled their old wooden runners and storebought plastic saucer sleds into the back of the sleigh and climbed in after them. Elisabeth and the parents stayed behind with Moriah. Rachel made sure to get an affirmative promise from Grace and the others to keep a close eye on Leah. Samuel cautioned to drive slowly and to watch for bare spots. Daniel steered the Belgians over the snowy farmland, careful to heed his father‘s concerns. Heidi and Grace yipped when the Belgians hit a dip that made Daniel‘s stomach feel like it was falling to his boots. Everyone expressed astonishment when little Leah, cocooned in two layers of woolen blankets, murmured, ―Da hawsli, da hawsli.‖ The 113

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family followed her animated gaze to a white rabbit leaving demure tracks in the snow. Settling down as the Belgians led them along, Grace asked Daniel, ―Why don‘t you stay at the house, now that the relatives are gone?‖ Daniel glanced at Aiden sitting on the other side of the bench. His eyes, more golden than Daniel had ever seen them, teared from the cold wind. ―The reservations at the inn are through to the twenty-seventh,‖ Daniel told Grace. ―Not sure I can alter them.‖ ―For sure you can,‖ Grace said. ―You can leave early. They won‘t charge you. Especially at Christmastime. It would be rude.‖ The Harvest Sunrise Inn Bed and Breakfast had no early checkout penalty, but Daniel resisted the idea. How could he and Aiden—and certainly Grace‘s invitation had included Aiden—stay at the farm without making things more complicated? Tensions ran heavy enough with his parents. After his mother‘s brooding statement regretting ever inviting Aiden back to Illinois, he figured they should at least maintain separate sleeping spaces. ―Not sure staying at the house is a good idea.‖ Daniel fixed his eyes on the white farmland. ―I think it would be a wunderbar goot idea,‖ Heidi said. Mark, snuggling against her, nodded his agreement. ―Mom hasn‘t cleaned all the linens,‖ David said from the back bench, where he lay almost supine with a woolen blanket up to his chin. ―There are lots of chores to do before we can have more houseguests. Besides, Grace, you shouldn‘t be inviting people over when you‘re not the one who has to give up your room.‖ ―I‘d be glad to give up my room for guests if I had my own like you,‖ Grace grunted. ―You would not,‖ David said. ―I would too.‖ ―Kinner, shtill.‖ It had been a while since Daniel had had to assert the eldest-brother role. He liked it. ―No need to be fahast with each other. Hush up or I‘ll turn the horses around and head for home.‖

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―But he‘s the one being hateful,‖ Grace said, sliding down in the bench and locking her arms across the chest of her bulky jacket. ―He‘s acting like you‘re not even his bruder, complaining about giving up his room for you.‖ She turned around and sneered at David. ―Now stop being so shussly. Daniel can stay with us if he wants.‖ ―I had to give up my room for Aiden Cermak with his flu, and before that, Uncle Abraham and Uncle Wayne.‖ ―That was only for a few days,‖ Grace said. ―Hardly a major sacrifice.‖ Grace was maturing, Daniel realized, growing into a proper young woman like Elisabeth. Yet she was still a child, unable to curb her enthusiasm. He appreciated her intervention but noticed how the family‘s uproar only bothered Aiden all the more. Keeping his eyes on the slick landscape, Daniel sensed something soured Aiden‘s mood more than his coming down with the flu or their spat last night. He seemed ready to leap out of the sleigh. The Belgians coughed into the cold air. Steam shot from their nostrils. Daniel tugged the reins harder, getting them to trot speed to the delight of the family, leaving a plume of snow in the sleigh‘s wake.

BY THE time they reached Plank Hill, it seemed the entire community had learned of Emil‘s news, including many of the children from Elisabeth‘s pageant. People of many faiths covered the distant hill like snow fleas. Aiden sighed heavily. He wished he hadn‘t come. Perhaps he should have gone back to the inn after the pageant. Daniel parked the sleigh next to several others in the middle of the field, where the Planks had spread out sweetened hay for the horses. Aiden could smell the molasses. A middle-aged woman Aiden assumed was Mrs. Plank ladled hot chocolate into Styrofoam cups from a stainless steel vat heated with charcoal. The Schrocks decided they‘d wait and have some when they were good and cold, after sledding down the hill many times. Dragging their sleds behind them, the family headed for the hill. Grace led Leah on an old-fashioned runner sled. She clambered up the 115

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hill, holding tightly to Leah, and together they eased down. Leah‘s brightly lit face confirmed she‘d loved every minute. Mark and Heidi, two young lovebirds yoked together on their round plastic sled, laughed like piano music as they whizzed down. They acted as if they were the only two on the entire hill. Daniel kept off to the side, chatting with Amish fathers around his age. David hung out with his friends. Aiden stayed clear of them. He was like the new boy in school on his first day, without a friend in the world. After about a half hour, he began to feel pushed out. Everyone but him was having such a good time. He must‘ve looked like a fool the few times he‘d asked to borrow Mark‘s or Grace‘s sled and glided down the hill alone. Bitter emotions scoured Aiden. Flustered, he slogged off. He had no idea where to go. Only that he needed to get away. At first he figured he‘d sit in the sleigh, but noticing how content the Belgians looked with their muzzles in the sweet hay, he passed them by until he found himself wandering down the lane. As dusk settled, stringer lights adorning the English homes began to shine brightly. A family in a minivan with a Christmas tree strapped to the top passed him. Must be on their way home to decorate the tree, making a family night of it, Aiden mused. Or maybe they were heading for Plank Hill for some sledding first. He and Daniel had planned for their first Christmas together to be like that, full of joy and laughter. The smell of wood-burning fireplaces lingered heavily in the air. He stomped through the snow, still smarting over what he‘d overheard in Rachel and Samuel‘s bedroom yesterday. They had implied his coming was a mistake. How was he to pretend they had never said anything? Moriah, at home in bed with the flu he had most likely passed on to her, for sure wished Aiden had never come back to Illinois. And weren‘t each of them right? Hadn‘t Aiden been too rash in forcing Daniel to return? The Schrocks had said they thought putting a tree inside one‘s home shussly. Maybe they‘d been right about that too. Smoldering worries followed him down the lane. Why did people choose to live with lies? For what? Religion? Politics? He understood 116

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privacy and expression were paramount to liberty, as incongruous as they may appear. One promoted yelling and screaming, while the other encouraged people to retreat and pull within. Yet, cornerstones to American democracy, people needed them both for the free lives they took for granted. When did the privacy become a means to hide from truth? And was Aiden, like Daniel had once claimed while they had hiked the Swan Range, standing on a soapbox for the sake of his own ego? Was he trumpeting his principles merely because he could, in total disregard for others‘ feelings? An image of Elisabeth‘s portrait of Daniel and Esther appeared in his mind. Esther was not a mere ghost. She had been a real person, Daniel‘s wife, the mother of his child. They had lived as a couple on a simple Amish farm. Husband and wife. What had Elisabeth wanted to tell him by showing him her sketch? That she‘d always known Daniel was gay, and that she was happy he‘d found someone? Would she ever sketch Aiden and Daniel together like she had Daniel and Esther? Perhaps he‘d been selfish, trying to take Daniel away from a life he had known since his birth. Perhaps Daniel would be better off with a woman and children, living the life of a devout Amish farmer and furniture maker. Without the constant worries of being shunned by society. Perhaps the greatest love he could bestow on Daniel was to set him free. His cell phone vibrated inside his pants pocket (Daniel had made him turn off the ringer whenever around the Schrocks). Most likely Daniel checking on him, wondering where he‘d stomped off to for a second time. He reached into his pocket and clicked off the phone, in no mood for curt text messages or angry voice mails. The glow of clustered homes outside Henry drew him closer. He‘d walk to town, maybe stop by The Henry Blade and chat again with his former boss. Maybe Kevin might want to grab some supper at the diner. Happily, he saw Kevin‘s office lights on. Kevin was alone, standing over the coffeemaker, when he stepped in.

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―Where‘s your new ace reporter?‖ Aiden asked, stomping his snowy boots on the door rug. ―Off on assignment to uncover the great Christmas wreath heist?‖ Both Aiden and Kevin laughed. ―No, Carolyn‘s at home. Told her to get some rest, she works longer hours than you used to. Come on in, Aiden. Some coffee?‖ This time, Aiden accepted Kevin‘s offer. His old boss seemed more sincere than the last time he‘d offered Aiden coffee. Slipping off his gloves, Aiden took the mug from Kevin. ―I just turned off the Mr. Coffee, but it‘s still hot,‖ Kevin said. The warmth from the mug thawed him. He blew into the hot liquid, made himself more comfortable. ―So, are you and Carolyn dating?‖ he asked. ―Dating?‖ Kevin‘s eyes widened. ―What makes you ask that, out of the blue?‖ ―Last time I was here you were near gushing over her.‖ ―Can‘t a man appreciate an employee without there being any funny business going on?‖ ―Sure, sure you can, but I‘m not stupid, Kevin. Last time I was here, you guys had hot and heavy written all over you.‖ Kevin flushed but seemed to regain his confidence. ―We‘ve been dating for a few months.‖ ―I figured.‖ Aiden, worried Kevin might think he was mocking him, kept his tone earnest. He merely wanted to peel back the layers and get to some semblance of truth. Anywhere. Too many people hiding behind bushes. ―I‘m happy for you,‖ he said. ―She seems like a real nice girl.‖ ―She‘s very nice,‖ Kevin said, almost as if he would be shocked if anyone had disagreed. ―Some may not see it so clearly at first, but I can assure you she‘s a wonderful girl.‖ ―I guess you know about me and Daniel,‖ Aiden said. Nice to say it, flat out, without pretense. Since Kevin had already admitted his ―dark secret,‖ Aiden figured he might as well also. ―No, what do you mean?‖ Kevin said, eyes wide. ―We‘re a couple, just like you and Carolyn.‖ 118

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―Really? You and Daniel Schrock? I never would‘ve guessed.‖ ―I suppose people don‘t pick up on those things as much as I assume they do,‖ Aiden said. ―Or maybe they just don‘t put much time in thinking about it.‖ ―The latter‘s probably more the case,‖ Kevin said. ―His family doesn‘t know, do they?‖ ―No, of course not.‖ Determined to keep the frank channels open, Aiden went on. ―But you probably suspected I was gay when I worked here?‖ ―Not at first,‖ Kevin said, looking away, red-faced. ―I wasn‘t sure. I figured it wasn‘t any of my business.‖ ―Not too many gay people live in small towns, I guess, at least not openly.‖ Aiden sipped his coffee, relishing the warmth trickling down his throat. ―It would be difficult, I imagine. But apparently gay people crop up anywhere. Who would even guess about Daniel?‖ Kevin shook his head. ―I never would‘ve seen you two together back when you were living here in Henry. Pretty obvious you were friends, but not that close. How‘re things going?‖ ―Have to admit, it‘s been a little tough.‖ Aiden lowered his eyes to the floor. He had been repressing his emotions about Daniel for so long. Now, like a champagne bottle uncorked, he allowed his words to flow forth. ―I guess I underestimated how much of a drastic change to his lifestyle us being together would be for him. Maybe I‘ve expected too much.‖ ―He‘s not resorting to drinking or anything like that, is he?‖ Kevin asked. ―Some of those Amish, once they lose their community, they find another crutch, one that‘s less healthy.‖ Aiden snickered and shook his head. ―No, I‘ve never seen him drink alcohol. He‘s surly at times, that‘s all. The change has been hard for him. We kinda jumped into things. We moved in together awful quick. At first I thought we were going too fast. Now I wonder if we‘re not going backward.‖ ―Has he officially left the church?‖ Kevin asked. ―That could turn some heads around here. There‘s that shunning business, you know.‖ 119

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―Yeah, I know.‖ Aiden drew in his lips. The apprehensions from the walk over swamped his chest. Had he been wrong to take Daniel away from his family, his home, his world? Forcing the ominous Amish shunning upon him? ―He hasn‘t declared he‘s leaving the church, not yet,‖ Aiden said, trying to keep his tone encouraging. ―He doesn‘t talk much about it. Being Amish is part of his identity, his culture. Hard to give it up. I don‘t blame him. I like the Amish lifestyle too.‖ ―It has its plusses, I imagine,‖ Kevin said. ―I‘m sure up in Montana you two live like the Amish, like frontiersmen.‖ ―Pretty rustic where we live, but sometimes I would like more. Or, should I say, less.‖ ―You always had romantic notions. That sometimes interfered with your reporting.‖ Kevin looked agitated, like he wished he hadn‘t broached the subject of Aiden‘s tenure reporting for him. He sat down at his desk, shuffled papers aside, switched off his computer, as if he wanted to shut down the office for the day. Aiden ventured to say more. ―I never told you about the threats I got while I worked here, did I?‖ ―Threats?‖ Kevin raised one eyebrow high above the top frame of his glasses. ―I was never sure who made them,‖ Aiden said. ―I think it had to do with my investigation into Kyle Yoder‘s death. Either that or someone didn‘t like a gay man living in their small town. But I doubt that was the reason.‖ ―You never called the police?‖ ―I assumed best to let it go,‖ Aiden said. ―I kinda worried if the police got involved they may damper my investigation. If anything, the threats only spurred me to investigate further.‖ Silent a moment, Kevin gazed at the scattered papers and notepads on his desk. ―You haven‘t decided to start investigating again, have you? That isn‘t what brought you back?‖ Aiden snickered. ―No, I really did come for Mark‘s wedding. I‘m not going undercover, if that‘s what you‘re thinking. But I‘ve been considering reopening the investigation, to be honest.‖ He narrowed his 120

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eyes. ―I‘ve never believed Kyle committed suicide. But hey, you can‘t stop me from looking into it. You‘re no longer my boss.‖ Aiden chuckled. ―You know,‖ Kevin said, ―I really did believe your theory about the Reverend Yoder killing Kyle.‖ Kevin‘s words sobered Aiden. He tightened his mouth and shook his head. ―Then why did you want me to ever stop looking into it?‖ Shifting his weight, Kevin said, ―It was best to leave it alone.‖ Aiden contemplated Kevin‘s words. He‘d always considered his former boss to be wise. He shrugged and said, ―Either way, it‘s behind me. Daniel convinced me to stop. I guess he and everyone else were right. I got in over my head.‖ ―Good,‖ Kevin said. ―It‘s best you do what Daniel says, especially if you want to keep the peace. You wouldn‘t want to get any more of those threats now, would you, and cause any more worries for him? Awful spray painted messages scrawled across your door, pumpkins thrown at your window, nasty notes left in your mailbox. How much nonsense like that can a man take? Let it go. You have your whole life ahead of you to tackle unsolved mysteries.‖ ―You‘re probably right.‖ Aiden looked toward the cottage cheese ceiling, mulling over Kevin‘s sage advice. He understood Kevin wanted to leave. He set down his mug of coffee on a foldout table. ―Did you want to grab some dinner?‖ he asked. Kevin stood. ―No, I can‘t. Carolyn is expecting me. But thanks for asking. Maybe some other time.‖ Aiden flinched from the sting of rejection. A familiar pain, lately. He forced a grin. ―Well, I guess I better get back to the inn anyway. I have a hunch, after I wandered off again, Daniel‘ll be pretty darn mad at me.‖

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Chapter Thirteen

THE doorknob jangled. Daniel stepped inside the room. His expression, stern and aggravated, did not surprise Aiden. Without speaking, Daniel stomped the snow from his boots and kicked them into a corner and went about yanking off his coat and gloves. ―Snowing again?‖ Aiden laid aside his paperback and glanced out the window above his bed. The darkness outside made discerning anything difficult. Daniel‘s deliberate silence prevented him from saying more. ―What‘s with you walking off without telling me?‖ Daniel said finally. ―It‘s the second time you done that. And you wouldn‘t answer your phone? I was worried sick.‖ ―I guess I had it turned off.‖ Aiden reached over to the night table where his cell phone was charging and clicked it on. ―There,‖ he said. ―It‘s on now. I forgot. Sorry.‖ ―What‘s the point of having one of those contraptions if you keep it turned off?‖ Daniel went about undressing. ―Everyone wanted to know where you went. You missed supper.‖ ―You sure anyone cared?‖ ―Of course, a person doesn‘t vanish in the middle of sledding. Why did you leave without saying something?‖ ―I wasn‘t feeling well.‖ Daniel scrutinized Aiden as if trying to ascertain if he were telling the truth. ―You coulda at least told me. I woulda taken you back to the inn.‖ ―I didn‘t want to ruin everyone‘s fun.‖

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―You didn‘t even answer the room phone.‖ ―I was out for a while. I went into town for something to eat.‖ Grunting and mumbling, Daniel strode into the bathroom. A few minutes later, he came out with his beard wet and his shirt off, probably left hanging over the towel rack the way he‘d leave it back at the cabin. ―Are we going to check out and stay at the farm?‖ Aiden said. ―Like Grace wanted?‖ ―David was probably right,‖ Daniel said. ―Mom‘s got enough on her hands without needing to worry over us.‖ ―I feel bad you‘re not spending more time with your family. Maybe you can stay at the farm, and I‘ll stay here.‖ ―I‘m spending plenty time with them, and I don‘t want you staying here alone.‖ ―I thought you‘d like that idea,‖ Aiden said. ―I‘d be out of your way, no worries.‖ ―Don‘t be shussly.‖ Daniel stripped off the rest of his clothes and, after slipping on his pajama bottoms, climbed into his bed. He gruffly pulled the bowtie quilt to his chin. Leaning on his elbow toward Daniel, Aiden said, ―I had a nice chat with Kevin today.‖ ―Is that where you been in town, tinkering around with Kevin Hassler again?‖ ―We had a lot of catching up to do. He‘s about the only person around here who gives me the time of day. It‘s nice to be open with someone for once.‖ Aiden didn‘t know why, but he was in a mood to poke Daniel, to get a rise out of him. Daniel had come blasting into the room accusing him of being weak, and he wanted to show his strength. ―He knows we‘re a couple,‖ he said. Daniel‘s eyebrows fused together. ―How would Kevin Hassler know something like that?‖ ―I told him.‖ ―You did what? Why would you do that for?‖

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―Don‘t worry, Daniel,‖ Aiden said when a shadow descended over Daniel‘s face. ―Kevin‘s been around. He‘s divorced twice and dating a girl half his age, that reporter who works for him.‖ Daniel shook his head. ―Not too smart, Aiden. I don‘t want the whole county to know. He‘ll probably tell that girl. No telling who she‘ll tell.‖ ―I doubt they‘ll make it into a banner headline in the Blade.‖ Aiden snickered. ―You know what I mean.‖ ―Is it so bad to be known to have a relationship with me, Daniel, even to an Englisher? I know things are different with the Amish, but you‘ve been overreacting a lot lately.‖ ―What else you and Kevin been gabbing about? Does he know about me and Kyle?‖ Daniel looked almost exactly how Elisabeth had captured him in her portrait—sad, empty. Did Daniel feel the same way about their relationship as he had his and Esther‘s when Elisabeth had sketched them? How would Daniel look if Elisabeth were to sketch him and Aiden as a couple? Would his expression excrete the same confusion, remoteness, resentment? ―I never told Kevin about that,‖ Aiden said, softening his tone. ―I would never tell him about you and Kyle. I promised you I wouldn‘t, didn‘t I?‖ ―This is too risky, Aiden.‖ Aiden shot him a glare. ―Oh, you think I‘m a risk now? Is that how you see me?‖ ―Keep your voice down. There‘re people here yet.‖ Aiden chuckled. ―Do you ever hear yourself? You‘ve become paranoid.‖ ―Paranoid? Don‘t I have a reason to be? I been worried sick about—‖ Daniel‘s cell phone buzzed on the night table. He answered. His face went from twisted in irritation to limp with concern. ―What is it?‖ Aiden asked after Daniel clicked off the phone.

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―That was Mark,‖ he said, staring toward where his feet poked under the bedcovers, the phone clamped in his large hand. ―Leah‘s real sick. She‘s being rushed to the hospital in Decatur by ambulance.‖

THE fluorescent lights in the waiting area cast an eerie hue over the family. No one spoke. Rachel wrung her hands where she sat, staring at her clogs. Samuel, beside her, his gray face drawn, gripped his knees. His grizzled beard dragged across his lap. Daniel, seated between Grace and Heidi, stared down the long hallway. Mark, so mature looking while he sipped coffee from a paper cup, was the only one standing. Not even seventy-two hours married and he already sported the beginnings of the prominent Amish beard. Aiden, away from the others, sat in a corner. Elisabeth, David, and Moriah had stayed behind at the house with baby Gretchen. After receiving Mark‘s phone call, Daniel and Aiden had rushed to the farm in the Suburban to pick up the family and drive them to Decatur. With everyone‘s weary eyes fixed on the dark farmland rushing past, Samuel had explained to Daniel and Aiden what had happened. Leah, right after they‘d put her down for the night, had suddenly lost her breath. At first they assumed she was having difficulty swallowing, the way she often did, but this time the spasms worsened. They struggled with her battery-operated suction device to remove the mucus that often built up inside her nasal cavity. Nothing they did worked. She had lost the ability to speak long sentences and had almost no use of her arms to make hand signals to tell them what was wrong. Not until she was near blue in the face did they realize she lacked oxygen. Mark said he‘d nearly raced past the phone shack, his head was so full of Leah. After calling 911, he immediately dialed for Daniel. He was grateful Rachel had tacked Daniel‘s new cell phone number on the shack‘s wall. Rachel had ridden with Leah in the ambulance. She seemed the most weary. She told everyone after they‘d arrived Leah had gone into complete paralysis during the thirty-minute trip to the hospital. It was 125

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the only time Aiden recalled seeing Samuel show overt affection for his wife. He‘d put his arm around her waist and gently escorted her to where they both now sat. Daniel regretted not being with the family to help. He had said on the drive to the farm, his hands clasped onto the steering wheel like a vice, that it would‘ve been his responsibility to make the 911 call and, as the eldest son, to calm everyone‘s fears. Samuel, too old for such tasks, shouldn‘t be expected to shoulder all the family‘s burdens. Soon Mark would be moving on with his own life, living on his own farm. And David? Daniel had said he was unsure what to expect from David anymore. Everyone knew the day was coming. Aiden guessed people never prepared for such moments. Having seen Samuel swing his engli, as he‘d often called Leah, high into the air many times, Aiden suspected Samuel, though he‘d never flaunt his sorrow, would likely miss her the most. Remembering how Leah would laugh whenever her father lifted her toward the ceiling, Aiden agreed she did look like a little angel about to spread her wings and fly away. How strange to be at Decatur Memorial Hospital again. The last time he‘d wandered its halls was after Daniel had been injured in a buggy accident last year, a few days before Thanksgiving. That was when Samuel had confronted him and asked him to leave Henry for good. Here he was with the family, one year later, as if none of that had ever happened. Aiden focused his attention outside the window. His reflection stared back at him. Small raindrops dotted the darkened pane. Leaning in closer, he noticed the drizzle had changed over to freezing. He turned his back to the cold darkness. Inside was clean, bright, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, yet his thoughts matched the darkness outside. Finally, after three hours of waiting, a doctor approached them. The family gathered around him. The doctor, amiable but grave, told them Leah was in stable condition and would pull through. A collective sigh of relief circled the family, like a set of tires released of air.

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―Right now, she‘s on a small ventilator,‖ the doctor said. ―We‘ll probably be able to remove it in the morning. But she‘ll have to start using a breathing machine regularly at night to prevent this from happening again. Most children with MLD eventually do.‖ He looked at Rachel and Samuel with tight lips. ―The machine does require electricity. I know many in your community have utility lines hooked to their homes for medical purposes. It‘s not a good idea to release her from the hospital until you can get a line set up by the utility company. Is your home wire ready?‖ Samuel shook his head. ―My father built the farmhouse many years ago. We have no electrical outlets.‖ His gray eyes were wide, pleading almost. ―But the ministers will permit us to install a small breaker box for her needs, I‘m sure.‖ Rachel balled her hands under her chin. ―But we probably won‘t be able to get service until after Christmas, maybe after the New Year. She may have to stay in the hospital for a long time.‖ ―Maybe we can get a service drop on an emergency basis,‖ Daniel said, placing his hand on his mother‘s shoulder. ―I‘ll call the utility company first thing in the morning.‖ Samuel looked to his son. ―That will be goot, Daniel, danke.‖ The family‘s unity touched Aiden. But their togetherness also troubled him. He chastised himself for having those same bitter resentments when little Leah and the family suffered. ―In the meantime,‖ the doctor went on, ―family members can come back into the ICU to see her.‖ He eyed Aiden, the only one of the group wearing English clothes. He didn‘t ask who he was or why he had come (perhaps he thought Aiden was their driver), but the look was clear. Family members only. Aiden sat staring at the white tiled floor, his forearms pressed against his thighs, and wanted to understand why Daniel hadn‘t ushered him along with the family to Leah‘s bedside, despite the doctor‘s obstinate insinuation. Daniel‘s mind must‘ve been too full of Leah to think about him. Or even to glance back with a reassuring smile before he and the family disappeared down the hall. He peeked at their coats, tumbled in a heap on two chairs across from where he sat. His coat lay crumpled next to him. 127

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Two hours later, Daniel and Aiden were heading back to the bed and breakfast in a freezing drizzle after having dropped the family at home. Aiden struggled to keep a positive attitude. He mentioned how nice it was that Leah‘s medical expenses would be paid for by community funds earned from flea markets and livestock auctions. Daniel‘s silence meant he‘d either agreed or had too much flooding his mind to reply. Neither mentioned their argument prior to Mark‘s telephoning. Tension filled the truck. Tension about Leah, about how they failed to reach out to one other when they both needed comforting the most. For the first time since they‘d been living together as a couple in Montana, Aiden feared touching Daniel. Aiden sank into his seat, his lips firm, and stared at the wet darkness speeding past. Without warning, the truck skidded to the right. Intuitively, Daniel veered the truck in the direction of the skid. Aiden held onto the dash. They came to a jarring stop against a road sign halfway buried under a snow bank. ―The headlights don‘t work,‖ Daniel said, toggling the switch. He got out and walked to the front of the truck. Climbing back in, he said, ―Both headlights are busted, the bumper‘s dislodged, and I think we‘re leaking coolant. We won‘t be able to drive back to the inn in this condition. We‘ll have to get a tow.‖ Aiden leaned his head against the headrest. ―Right when you think an already horrible night couldn‘t get any worse,‖ he breathed.

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Chapter Fourteen

NEXT morning, Aiden stayed at the inn while Daniel walked to the Amish-owned mechanics to check on the status of the Suburban. Last night, Aiden had been surprised when Daniel had told him the tow truck operator worked for a local Amish auto mechanic. According to Daniel, the Amish shop was one of the most renowned in the county, and people brought their vehicles there from as far as Champaign. An hour later, Daniel texted him that the truck wouldn‘t be ready until after Christmas and one of the Amish mechanics would be giving him a buggy ride back to the farm, where he was going to help install the outlet for Leah‘s ventilator. Rather than be cooped up in the room, Aiden preferred to get some air. Apparently, Daniel did not want him at the farm, since he had not suggested Aiden meet him there. He figured he‘d visit with Kevin and ask if he wanted to grab brunch. Although it was Christmas Eve, he knew his former boss well enough that he would be at work. Sure enough, Kevin was at his office, but Aiden dared not enter. Through the frosty windowpane, he eyed Kevin and Carolyn, locked in a passionate embrace. His initial surprise mutated into envy. Aiden could not hug Daniel so brazenly anywhere in Henry. Not even in the privacy of their room at the inn. Only in the woods did Daniel allow Aiden to show him affection. The only critters to ever spy them expressing their love—handholding, hugging, kissing—were the woodland animals and the occasional wide-eyed hiker. Watching Kevin and Carolyn‘s blurry figures pressed against each other, Aiden longed to get back to Montana. To be with Daniel in their cabin. Or in their tent in the backcountry. Away from Henry.

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Hungry, but not yet wanting to eat alone in public, he wandered down to the IGA, one of his old lunch haunts when he worked at the Blade, to buy something to eat and take back with him to the inn. He was hunting down the cereal aisle, hankering for granola bars, when he nearly bumped into a young Amish woman. They stared at each other, their mouths agape. Neither one seemed to know how to react. She smiled and offered her hand first. ―You‘re Aiden Cermak, ya?‖ ―Yes, yes I am. And you‘re… you‘re Tara Hostetler?‖ Aiden had never seen Tara up close. She wasn‘t what he had expected for a woman who had almost become Daniel Schrock‘s second wife. Pretty enough, but far too frail looking for Daniel‘s tastes. ―I guess we know each other in passing only,‖ Tara said, eying him sideways. ―We never did get a chance to officially meet.‖ Unsure how much she associated him with Daniel, he held back from saying too much. For Daniel‘s sake. He glanced at the shopper‘s basket in her pallid hands. ―Shopping for a few staples?‖ ―Ya, I‘m leaving for Maryland after Christmas and will want a few snacks for the long train ride.‖ ―Maryland? That‘s where I‘m from. What takes you there?‖ She blushed under her bonnet. ―I‘m courting a man who lives there. I‘m going to spend a few weeks with him and his family.‖ Relief tingled Aiden, but he was unsure what for. ―He isn‘t from southern Maryland, is he? That‘s where I grew up. There‘s a small Amish settlement there.‖ Tara shook her head. ―He‘s from western Maryland, in Garrett County. You heard of it?‖ ―Oh, yes.‖ Aiden chuckled. ―I know all the Maryland counties; there‘re only twenty-three. We have to study each one in school. Garret is way out west, in the Appalachian Mountains, far different from where I grew up.‖ ―I can‘t wait to see it. I never been where there are mountains.‖ ―Not nearly as big as the ones in Montana, but beautiful in their own way.‖

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―Montana?‖ Tara raised her eyebrows. ―What makes you say Montana?‖ Aiden realized he had probably said too much. Would she build a connection with his comment and Daniel‘s living in Montana? Should he care if she did? ―I only mentioned Montana because it‘s known for its tall mountains,‖ he said. ―The name Montana even means mountain.‖ ―Ach, I‘m sorry.‖ Tara blushed and looked at him through her pale eyelashes. ―I didn‘t mean to come across like a nosy dummkop. It‘s just that you‘re the second person to mention Montana in as many days.‖ ―The second?‖ Now Aiden flashed an inquisitive look. He wondered who in the industrious farm belt of Illinois would even think about Montana, much less mention it in idle chitchat. ―Who was the first?‖ She paused a moment. ―Daniel,‖ she said. ―Daniel?‖ ―Ya, Daniel Schrock.‖ She nodded. ―You‘re here for his brother Mark‘s wedding, aren‘t you? Well, Daniel came to see me at the fabric shop where I work the other day, and he mentioned living in Montana.‖ Stunned, Aiden willed down the flush creeping into his cheeks. His neck burning, he said, ―He… he came to see you?‖ ―We had a nice visit.‖ Holding her shopper‘s basket closer to her ribcage, Tara smiled softly and gazed at Aiden without the typical Amish reticence. Her indigo eyes glowed like deep orbs. ―We had lunch at the Dairy Queen.‖ Aiden scratched his temple, feigned a smile. ―You had lunch? That… that sounds nice.‖ ―I was surprised to see him,‖ Tara said. ―I know he must be keeping a busy social schedule while he‘s here. I got five older brothers and sisters. I know how hectic things can get around weddings.‖ The bright lights of the IGA dimmed in his mind. The aisle appeared to stretch endlessly. If he were to take off in a run, he‘d be forever treading down that same aisle, trapped between boxes of cereal and crackers. Why hadn‘t Daniel told him he‘d visited with Tara 131

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Hostetler? Wouldn‘t lunching with his former fiancée be something he‘d want to mention? Aiden endeavored to say more, but his lips formed a tight seal, as if they were glued together. ―Are you staying with the Schrocks?‖ Tara asked him when he failed to respond to her last comment, her eyes full of scrutiny. ―No,‖ Aiden blurted, worried again how much he should let her know. ―I‘m staying at the inn.‖ Tara chuckled. ―Which inn? There‘s a handful around here.‖ ―The Harvest Sunrise Inn Bed and Breakfast.‖ ―I hear that‘s a nice place.‖ ―Yes, it‘s nice.‖ ―Isn‘t Daniel staying there too?‖ ―Oh… yeah… yeah he is.‖ They were quiet a moment, like two hounds deciphering each other‘s next move. Aiden certainly was at a loss as to whether Tara was playing games with him or simply making small talk. ―Well,‖ Tara said, smiling under her bonnet. ―I best get back to my shopping. I got chores at the farm yet before getting supper ready, and I still need to pack for my trip.‖ ―Okay,‖ Aiden said, relieved she was the first to break off. ―Nice meeting you. Have fun in Maryland.‖ Aiden left without buying anything to eat. He wanted only to get out. The hunger spasms kicking his stomach failed to bother him as he walked back to the inn. Life loomed not so good at the moment.

HE

THOUGHT it was the next morning, but when he glanced at the

digital alarm clock on the night table and the bright red numerals ―5:12‖ registered in his mind, he realized he had awakened to the same day. Complete darkness had seeped into the room since he‘d fallen asleep. He shook his head to get blood flowing to his brain. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he gazed about the room. Disappointed Daniel was still out, he checked his cell phone to see if

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he‘d left any messages. Two. One recent. He texted back to avoid Daniel‘s wrath. At inn, just woke from nap. Agitated and groggy, he switched on the light and fumbled out of bed. He decided to do some writing until Daniel returned. He had an assignment with Northwest Backpacker magazine due in February, and he hadn‘t even written an outline. He dug through the front compartment of his laptop case, where he kept his digital camera and notepads, and froze when his hand hit an envelope. Mark‘s invitation to the wedding. Aiden had kept the letter since the day Daniel had reluctantly let him read it, back in August. He had no true understanding of why he‘d brought the letter to Illinois. Perhaps he wanted proof Mark had invited him, in case anyone questioned his being there. He‘d brandish Mark‘s letter before his accuser‘s eyes and declare with evidence he was welcomed—with Samuel‘s blessing. He took the letter out of the envelope and reread it. Mark‘s reaching out to him was a nice gesture, but the sentiments were as fragile as the paper they were written on. He had probably embellished where he‘d mentioned Samuel had rubber stamped inviting Aiden. Neither Mark‘s nor Elisabeth‘s kindness mattered when matched against the patriarch‘s scorn. He jerked, hearing Daniel‘s key in the door. Afraid Daniel would discover he had kept Mark‘s letter, he stuffed it in the envelope and hid it back inside the laptop compartment. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he waited for Daniel to enter. And waited. He swore he‘d heard keys jingle and the doorknob rattle. Was the innkeeper or a maid trying to get in? He waited again. No one entered. Maybe a band of ghosts had come to warn him not to be such a Scrooge. The spirits of Christmas past, present, and future. Or the ghost of the original owner, the one Grace had said still stalked the halls of the old inn. He chuckled audibly and shook his head. He wanted the laughter to fill him with levity, but the lonely sound only made him feel more gloomy. He was about to open the door and check to see if the maid needed anything from the hallway when something on the twill carpet

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caught his attention. A bi-folded piece of paper lay halfway under the door. Was it a notice from the inn‘s management? An early bill? Perhaps Daniel had checked out early, like Grace had asked him to, and he hadn‘t bothered to inform Aiden. Daniel had been concealing a lot from him lately. Scrunching his forehead, he picked up the paper and unfolded it. The note was written on the inn‘s stationery. His arm began to shake as he read. Suddenly the door opened and Daniel stepped in. Aiden, flustered, thrust the note behind his back before Daniel caught him holding it. He edged backward while Daniel focused on flinging off his coat and gloves. Stealthily, Aiden slipped the note into the compartment of his laptop case. ―Is anyone out there?‖ Aiden‘s heart raced. Daniel, busy with kicking off his boots, snickered. ―No, it‘s about as dead as I seen yet. I think we‘re about the only few guests left. Why?‖ ―No… no reason.‖ Daniel placed his soggy boots in a corner by the door and went about plugging in his cell phone and setting it on the night table. The bustle of activity radiated off Daniel, leaving Aiden feeling emptier than he already had. ―Leah is back from the hospital,‖ Daniel said, sitting on the edge of his bed while he unfastened his shirt. ―Joe Karpin‘s daughter picked up Mom and her from the hospital this morning. Several of us helped install her electrical outlet. A man from the utility company already set up the breaker box and gave us drop service. We couldn‘t thank him enough for coming out so quick on Christmas Eve.‖ Aiden gawked at Daniel, wordless. The warmth of community and family and the Christmas spirit flowed over him as Daniel recounted his day. Yet listening to him was like watching television. He could only experience Daniel‘s day passively. He had said ―we.‖ We had meant Daniel, his friends, his family, the community. Even the workman from the utility company had been a part of their happy day. Aiden had not been included.

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―The Stoltzfuses gave us their old ventilator,‖ Daniel said. ―They heard about Leah‘s breathing problems and wanted to help. Their son died from a similar condition a few years ago. It‘s called a BiPAP machine. You should see this contraption. It‘s quite some work. It helps the lungs take in air.‖ He chuckled and shook his head. ―I have to give credit to the Englishers who come up with these machines. They really take some imagination.‖ Blurry-eyed, Aiden watched Daniel slip off his broadfall pants and underwear and drape his clothes over the ladder-back chair by the desk. Naked, he stepped into the bathroom. A minute later came the rush of water from the shower. Normally, he‘d be compelled to join Daniel. Daniel always seemed to like when Aiden slinked into the shower next to him at the cabin. About the only time Aiden managed to get Daniel to stay in the shower longer than his record two minutes. At the inn, Daniel would push him away, like he had all week. With Daniel in the shower, Aiden took out the note he had stuffed in his laptop case. Holding the note as if it were a dead mouse, he reread it several times. Hearing the shower shut off, he quickly shoved the note back into the compartment but noticed Mark‘s wedding invitation next to it. A jolt of grief coursed through him. Dismayed, he shoved the note deeper under his notepads and digital camera, away from Mark‘s letter. He must never allow Daniel to see it. When Daniel emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later wrapped in a towel, Aiden was undressed and under the bedcovers. As Daniel dressed in his sleeping clothes, he asked Aiden, ―Did you get a nice nap?‖ ―Yeah,‖ Aiden said. His words sounded as if they were coming from someone else. Someone far away. ―What did you do? Sleep the day away? Still feeling under the weather, huh?‖ Aiden, his mind grinding with painful worry, was in no mood for idle conversation. In a flash, he remembered his unforeseen encounter with Tara Hostetler at the IGA. He wanted Daniel to know they had bumped into each other. 135

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―I ran into Tara Hostetler in town when I went to get something to eat,‖ he muttered. ―You did?‖ ―Why didn‘t you tell me you two had lunch?‖ ―I musta forgot about it. Wasn‘t important.‖ Aiden studied Daniel from the bed. Watching him dress, he hated being attracted to him even while he battled against his anxieties. He yearned for Daniel‘s strength, for his protection. But could he even count on it anymore? ―We talked about a lot of stuff,‖ he said. ―Mark‘s wedding, her new boyfriend in Maryland. About Montana.‖ Daniel shot him a harsh look. ―Montana? And what did you have to say to her about Montana? Did you tell her we‘re living together, like you told Kevin Hassler?‖ Fury simmered inside Aiden. For Daniel to strike him with such reproachful and undeserving words while he suffered…. Daniel seemed… unjust. ―Don‘t you worry, Daniel,‖ he said, biting down his anger. ―She knows nothing about our secret life.‖ Even through his mounting rage, Aiden respected Daniel enough to keep his tongue from wagging further. Yet Daniel seemed to have no problem letting his sentiments flow unabashed. Shaking his head over and over while he slipped under the covers of his own bed, Daniel said, ―You shoulda not come back here. I shoulda not allowed you to talk me into letting you come. You shoulda not come back here….‖

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Chapter Fifteen

DANIEL recognized the hurt cut across Aiden‘s face. But he chose not to hold back. If Aiden wanted the truth so badly, then the truth he should have. Aiden‘s coming to Illinois was a mistake. For everyone. ―I don‘t mean to hurt you,‖ Daniel said, keeping his posture stiff while he leaned against the headboard of his bed, ―but I won‘t be able to rest properly until we get back to Montana.‖ Aiden stared vacantly at the ceiling, his eyes unblinking. ―You push too hard sometimes,‖ Daniel went on. ―You always want things to be a certain way. You want the whole world to live by your ideals. Some things are best to leave alone, no matter how unpleasant they seem.‖ ―All I ever wanted was to love you,‖ Aiden whispered. ―To me you‘re everything I have. Everything I‘ve ever wanted. I‘ve never cared what anyone else might think.‖ ―All you wanted?‖ Daniel snickered, pulled the covers closer to his chest. ―Aiden, you‘re always wanting more. You‘re never satisfied with the way things are. All you done is pressure me to open up or come out, or whatever you call it.‖ ―You haven‘t looked at it from my point of view,‖ Aiden said. ―What about mine? You push and push and push, blind to everyone around you.‖ ―Daniel, maybe that‘s my way of claiming you, to want to shout to the world that I love you. The same way Mark and Heidi did at their wedding. I have no other way. Not really. And what‘s the point of dreaming about marriage when, even where same-sex marriages are legal, you‘d probably be too embarrassed to go through with it. Illinois 137

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just legalized same-sex unions. What would you do if I said I wanted for us to get legal for Christmas, huh? Right here in Frederick County? By law, they‘d have to oblige us.‖ Sighing, Daniel rolled his eyes and grunted. Aiden had always talked of a ―real‖ wedding one day. Being raised plain, Daniel did not need so much government validation (although even the Amish registered their marriages with the state). ―You‘re being awfully dramatic, don‘t you think?‖ Aiden remained silent. Daniel started to worry over Aiden‘s glum mood. He was pulling into himself, and Daniel was unused to seeing this side of him. ―Aiden, things will be better once we get back to Montana,‖ he said, softening his tone. ―For now, let things be.‖ ―I think it‘s too late for that.‖ Aiden‘s voice sounded empty, miserable, as if he were standing on the edge of a wooden plank on a ship. ―Aiden—‖ ―Listen, Daniel.‖ Aiden shook his head. ―Maybe you‘re not ready for this. Apparently, I‘m not ready either. Maybe you need more time to think about things, to make up your mind what you want. And you know something? I need time, too.‖ Daniel twisted to face Aiden. ―Why are you making such a mountain out of wanting a little privacy?‖ ―There‘s a fine line between privacy and being embarrassed who you are, who we are. But I guess none of that matters anymore.‖ ―It‘s not about being embarrassed, Aiden. I don‘t want to stand out.‖ Aiden snickered. ―We already stand out. The more you hide, the more you expose yourself, Daniel. That‘s what makes all this so… so ridiculous. We‘re not the only ones playing games. Everyone is. About the only ones being honest are Elisabeth and Mark, and Kevin.‖ ―Elisabeth and Mark? What do you mean?‖ ―They know about us, Daniel.‖ Daniel sat up taller, grabbed onto the edge of the quilt. His eyes burned. He could hardly believe his ears. ―You didn‘t tell them too, did

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you? Is that the secret Mom said she heard you and Elisabeth share when you were sick with the flu in David‘s room? Is it? Tell me.‖ ―What secret? What are you talking about, Daniel?‖ ―Did you tell Elisabeth, yes or no?‖ ―No, I didn‘t have to tell her. Elisabeth‘s known all along, I‘m sure. I think she‘s known you were gay for a while. In her own way, she‘s given us her blessing, if that means anything to you.‖ ―And Mark? You told Mark?‖ Aiden chortled, shook his head. ―No, we never spoke a word about it. But do you honestly think he didn‘t know I was living with you in Montana when he sent that wedding invitation? He wrote that letter wanting to make it seem like he didn‘t know. In his sweet, innocent way, he‘s known all along too.‖ Speechless, Daniel sat, staring at Aiden but not seeing him, more like looking into some unavoidable abyss. The truth of Aiden‘s words cut into him like a jigsaw. Of course they knew. Mark and Elisabeth were two of the most astute people in Frederick County. And young David? He most likely knew too, which explained his ornery behavior lately. And during his entire stay, Daniel had known they knew. He only wanted to avoid facing it. Who else in the community might know? He followed Aiden with his eyes as he climbed out of bed and fumbled into his clothes. ―What‘re you doing?‖ Daniel said. ―Packing.‖ ―What for? We‘re not supposed to leave until Tuesday.‖ ―I can‘t take this anymore.‖ Aiden tossed his duffel bag onto his bed. ―So many lies, and stories on top of stories. I can‘t even follow them all. I‘m afraid if I speak to anyone, I‘ll blow your cover. Afraid of so many things suddenly. I hate that feeling, Daniel. I‘ve even gotten sick from all this. I‘m so stressed, and I haven‘t had the flu in years.‖ ―But… but where‘re you going to go?‖ ―Back to Montana, to the cabin. Who knows? There‘s already too much going on around here. I would‘ve hoped to have more of your support, but I see I can‘t even count on that, at least not while we‘re in

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Illinois.‖ Aiden stopped packing a moment and locked eyes on Daniel. ―I‘m tired of being your dirty little secret, Daniel.‖ Clothes and toiletries flew into Aiden‘s black duffel bag, the one with that annoying turquoise stripe. Daniel wanted to stop him, but he felt as if someone had him pinned to the bed. Why couldn‘t he move? Why couldn‘t he hold Aiden back? ―You‘re leaving now?‖ Daniel asked. ―On Christmas Eve?‖ Aiden paused, his arms pressing inside the bag as if it were about to devour him. ―Wouldn‘t you rather me leave? Well, wouldn‘t you?‖ Daniel did not answer. He did rather Aiden leave, back to Montana, to their cabin nestled in the hills near the Swan Range. That‘s why he could not move off the bed. He wanted Aiden to go. But not like this. Not boiling with so much resentment. ―I didn‘t expect you to try and stop me,‖ Aiden said with a sarcastic bite, a side of him Daniel had only seen once before, when a man in Kalispell had nearly run them off the road while they were driving in town. ―Aiden, it‘s not like that….‖ ―Daniel, in a way, I feel responsible. I expected too much from you, from your entire community. It‘s not your fault. I‘ve caused too much trouble here already.‖ With an irritating screech, Aiden zipped his duffel bag shut and carried it to the door. He pulled on his coat and gloves. ―Aiden, how will you get home? The Suburban‘s still in the shop.‖ ―I‘ll call Joe Karpin to give me a ride to the airport. I don‘t care how much a flight costs.‖ He grabbed for his cell phone and was in the process of dialing when Daniel stopped him. ―Joe Karpin‘s in Arizona. His daughter‘s doing the driving for him. But she told us after dropping off Leah and Mom, she‘s going to some Christmas show in Mattoon tonight and won‘t be free until tomorrow afternoon. Wait until then, at least.‖ Aiden‘s expression grew even more irate. ―I‘ll call Kevin.‖ He dialed Kevin‘s number. Daniel heard Kevin‘s voice on the other end. When Aiden hung up, he said, ―Kevin‘s still at the Blade. He said he 140

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could give me a lift to Champaign, or even one of the two Chicago airports, if I wanted. I‘m going to meet him at the office.‖ ―How‘re you going to get a last-minute flight on Christmas Eve?‖ ―I‘ll get standby. I‘d rather wait around an airport all night than spend any more time here. You were right all along, Daniel. I should never have come back here.‖ ―Why don‘t you have Kevin pick you up? Or at least let me get one of the innkeepers to give you a lift to Kevin‘s. I‘m sure they won‘t mind.‖ Aiden spit out a laugh. ―No, Daniel, no. That‘s okay. You stay in bed. Don‘t you worry about me.‖ He opened the door and fumbled with his duffel bag down the hallway. Finally, Daniel flung off the bedcovers, pulled on his pants over his pajama bottoms, and followed after him, but slowly, shuffling, as if he were permitting him to go. Standing on the front porch, he watched Aiden heave his duffel bag down the steps and out onto the parking lot. Daniel glanced to his left to make sure the innkeeper was away from the front desk. ―What should I tell my family?‖ he asked. ―Why don‘t you tell them I said goodbye. It‘ll be more of a goodbye than I was able to give them the last time, when your father kicked me out of Henry.‖ ―Aiden, are you really leaving?‖ Before turning onto the shoulder of the lane, Aiden stopped and glowered at him. ―Yes, Daniel, I‘m really leaving.‖ He spun and walked away. Breath curled from his mouth as he disappeared into the background of the starry black night.

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Chapter Sixteen

DANIEL watched the fiery orb rise above the horizon and set the white landscape aglow like burning embers. Through the window he noticed an overnight snowfall had left another few inches. Other than the sparrows chirping in the bushes abutting the inn, there was on overall tomblike stillness. Sitting up in bed, he reached for his cell phone from the night table and speed dialed Aiden‘s number. By now he would be back at the cabin in Montana, safe and sound. Perhaps later on he‘d make a fire in their small wood-burning fireplace, pour himself a cup of hot chocolate with a sprinkle of cinnamon the way he liked, curl up with one of his paperbacks on their secondhand sofa. The image pleased Daniel. He was glad Aiden had gone. Despite his leaving angrily and rashly, it was for the best. Aiden was out of Henry, away from the stress and dangers that lurked behind every barn and down each desolate lane, and Daniel could breathe a little easier. The phone went straight to voice mail. A little odd, but perhaps Aiden had turned off his phone to get some extra sleep. He‘d been turning off his phone a lot lately, Daniel thought with a grimace. A two-hour difference, it was yet only five o‘clock in the morning in Montana. For sure he‘d had a trying night at the airport. No telling how long he‘d had to wait for a last-minute flight out of either Chicago or Champaign‘s small regional airport. He left a short text message, expecting Aiden to get back to him after he awoke. He called Kevin Hassler at his office to ask how everything had gone. When the phone went to a voice recording, Daniel remembered 142

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today was Christmas Sunday. Even the most hardworking in Henry would be home for the holiday, especially at that hour. He clicked off his phone and lumbered out of bed. Figuring he had no reason to remain at the inn with Aiden gone, he packed his things and checked out two days early. Dressed in his Amish best, he walked the two miles to the family farm with his suitcase by his side and the laptop Aiden had forgotten when he‘d left so hastily slung over his shoulder. A light tug of guilt pulled on him for what had happened last night. Aiden had been more upset than he had ever seen him. But Aiden‘s leaving was for the best. They could patch things up once he returned to Montana. He had no idea what he would tell his family about Aiden. They‘d want to know where he‘d gone. He would tell them the truth. That he was back in Montana. At his home. There was no falsehood in that. He almost could smell his mother‘s cooking when he turned onto the lane where the family farm stood. Rachel and the girls had done so much cooking with Mark‘s wedding, the guests, and now Christmas, the ovens probably hadn‘t a chance to cool below one hundred fifty degrees in more than a week. No breakfast would be waiting for him since tradition dictated the community fast Christmas mornings, but he looked forward to the noon meal when they would feast on donuts, cinnamon rolls, roasted meats, pickled eggs, and homemade cheeses. The Amish never celebrated Christmas like the English (Epiphany was more solemnly observed), but it was Christmas nonetheless. Nice to spend a relaxing holiday with family. Even if Aiden wasn‘t there to share the day with him the way they had planned. Sad he would be alone on the Lord‘s birthday, but at least he‘d be comfortable in their cabin. He noticed someone had hitched Gertrude to the largest of the family‘s black buggies when he strode up the driveway. Ready for church, he figured. Stroking her muzzle, her ears flicking from his touch, he smiled thinking how he and Aiden had gone to the horse auction together last summer, and how much he‘d resisted his mother‘s urging that he take him. During that trip he‘d realized how much the Englisher had smitten him.

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He stomped his boots free of snow over the welcome mat and stepped inside the warm house right when his family was scrambling to get ready for church. He grinned, remembering how difficult it was to get nine people ready for Church Sundays. Now, with Gretchen, they had one extra underfoot, in addition to little Leah needing added care. Despite the early hour, the younger kinner had already opened their Christmas presents. An armful of boxes scattered about the sitting room floor and decorative fabrics used to wrap them were draped over the furniture. The kinner had probably opened the gifts before sunup, by the glow of lanterns, the way they‘d used to when he was a boy. Rosy cheeked, Leah sat in the sitting room in her wheelchair, attempting to play with a faceless Amish doll on her lap. He was happy to see her home from the hospital. She appeared much healthier. He waved to her when she smiled and struggled to raise her head. Amazing how her smile muscles seemed to be the only part of her body unaffected by the MLD. He set the bags in the corner by the wall pegs and was about to head for the kitchen when the chaos of the church rush pushed him backward. Heidi and Mark raced up and down the stairs at least three times before they even noticed him. Heidi gave him an unexpected and quick hug and wished him Merry Christmas. Moriah near ran straight into him where he stood in the hallway. ―My flu is mostly gone,‖ she said. ―I‘m much better.‖ ―That‘s goot,‖ Daniel said. ―Look at the dress Elisabeth made me for Christmas.‖ Moriah dangled the dress before his eyes. ―Isn‘t it pretty? I‘m going to wear it to the gmay today.‖ ―It‘s very nice.‖ Daniel smiled. ―You‘ll look pretty in it, for sure.‖ ―We‘re not supposed to look pretty in things,‖ Moriah said, cocking her head, her brow braided. ―But I like the color. Lavender is my favorite.‖ She hurried upstairs, the dress flailing behind her in a blur of fabric. ―Where‘s Aiden?‖ Grace asked, coming off the last step as she sidestepped her younger sister. She was in the process of securing her bonnet over her kapp.

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―He had to go back to Montana.‖ ―He left?‖ Rachel looked at him from her rocking chair, where she had been nursing Gretchen all along. Daniel hadn‘t noticed her in the sitting room from where he stood. She must‘ve moved the rocker from its usual position to be closer to the window to catch the morning light while she nursed. ―Ya, he left last night,‖ Daniel said. Rachel raised her eyebrows. ―But how?‖ She glanced out the window. ―Your truck‘s still in the shop, nay?‖ ―Kevin Hassler drove him to the airport.‖ Grace‘s arms dropped to her sides. ―I wanted him to come to church with us.‖ ―He‘s gone,‖ was all Daniel could utter. The icy words had fallen from his chapped lips like hailstones. He spoke the truth. Aiden was gone, and they would not be sharing that first Christmas together, the way they had planned. But there would be more Christmases. Wouldn‘t there? Watching his family, allowing them to sink into his eyes, he wondered if he would ever be as much a part of their lives as he‘d once been. Would this be one of the last times he might ever see them? How unbearable would that be? ―Frehlicher Grishtdaag,‖ Elisabeth said to him. She stood under the kitchen archway clasping a dish towel, dressed and ready for services in her violet dress and white cape and bonnet. ―Merry Christmas,‖ Daniel replied, trying to grin himself out of his melancholy. ―Would you like some coffee?‖ she asked. ―I already washed the pot, but I can brew some more.‖ ―There‘s no time,‖ Samuel said, stepping into the hallway from his and Rachel‘s bedroom as he fastened the top two hook-and-eyes on his stiff white shirt. ―Best we get going, especially with the streets full of snow.‖ He called upstairs. ―Kinner, let‘s go. Gertrude is waiting, and we don‘t want to be late for Christmas service.‖

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Grabbing for his black down jacket from the wall peg by the front door, Samuel glanced at the corner of the floor. ―I can see you brought your bags from the inn. Are you leaving?‖ ―I‘m still waiting for the truck to be repaired,‖ Daniel said. ―I figure I‘d stay here until then, since Aunt Frieda and your brothers are gone. I can share David‘s room. It‘ll be only a few days.‖ Samuel stroked his grizzled beard. ―You‘re going back to Montana?‖ Hesitating, Daniel nodded. Without responding, Samuel pulled on his winter jacket, dropped on his black felt hat, and slipped out of the door. Gertrude led them along the snowy backcountry lanes to the Stahley farm, where services were to be held. Mark, who was driving, pulled her more toward the center of the lanes since the English snowplows had left cumbersome berms along the shoulder. The English did their best to keep the shoulders clear for the local buggies, but sometimes their efforts fell short. Crammed in the backseat, Elisabeth, holding the snoozing Leah on her lap (her junior-sized wheelchair was strapped to the back), whispered to Daniel, but not low enough to appear they were sharing a secret. ―Too bad Aiden couldn‘t spend the holiday with us. I wonder why he left in such a haste without saying goodbye.‖ Daniel chewed his bottom lip, realizing how harsh he must‘ve been with Aiden if he‘d rushed off without saying goodbye to the family. He knew how much Aiden had regretted not saying goodbye to them the last time he‘d left unexpectedly. That time Daniel‘s father had been the one who‘d banished him. Had Daniel, in some way, done the same? Aiden‘s leaving was for the best, he told himself again as the guilt pressurized inside him. The best. For him. For everyone. Good everything had come to a head last night. Their quarrel had pushed Aiden back to where he belonged. To Montana. ―He‘s sorry for not saying goodbye,‖ Daniel said, swallowing his pesky remorse. ―He wanted to, but he was in a rush to make his flight.‖ Aroma from his mother‘s homemade cinnamon rolls and donuts she‘d brought along for the noon feast filled the buggy, yet instead of 146

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comforting Daniel the way it usually would, the delicious smell exaggerated his sullen mood. ―I hope nothing‘s wrong.‖ Grace, seated in the backseat closest to them, spoke in a low voice. ―He‘s not still sick, is he?‖ ―Nay, nay.‖ Daniel shook his head, his eyes focused on his hands clasped over his scrunched knees. ―He had business to take care of, some article or something he had to get written.‖ He hated lying to his family, especially his sisters, but what else could he say? ―None of that whispering,‖ Rachel said, turning her head around briefly to glare at her kinner with Gretchen squirming in her arms. ―Especially on a Church Sunday when we‘re to celebrate da Hah‘s birth.‖ They heeded their mother‘s words the remainder of the way to the Stahleys‘. At church, Daniel continued to keep his mouth shut. He sat on the men‘s side with his brothers and father. Droning hymns from the gmay flowed around him. He sang along but mostly mouthed the somber lyrics. Everyone was waiting for the ministers to descend from the upstairs, where they were discussing essential community affairs. Daniel wondered if the ministers were, at that precise moment, deliberating about him. Today they‘d likely want to speak to him about whether he should be shunned. They would corner him during the noon feast or wait until after the services. Christmas would not deter them. They would keep their words untangled, Daniel figured. Daniel too must speak frankly. He had to commit to a definitive answer. No dillydallying like the last time when they‘d harangued him in the barn. Pinpricks covered his body as he thought about the shunning. There would be no more contact with his family—at least not openly. No more interacting with friends and neighbors. His association with Uncle Eldridge, who supplied him with a steady stream of woodwork orders through the website his English friend administered, must be severed. He knew of only two others in the community who had been shunned. One was a woman who, ten years ago, had moved in with her Englisher lover soon after she had been baptized. Daniel assumed after three years, neither could take the ostracizing, and they‘d fled in the night. The community hadn‘t heard from either since. 147

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The other was a young woman who had run off to attend college in Virginia two years after being baptized. Six months later, like a dog with its tail between its legs, she had scampered home, asking to be allowed back into the community‘s fold. After repentance, the ministers forgave her, and they lifted the shunning. He spotted her now from where he sat, her two-year-old twin boys bouncing on her lap, seemingly content and glad to be in everyone‘s good graces once again. The black shoes of the ministers appeared on the staircase. Nudging unpleasant notions aside, he gripped his knees. Once the ministers moved to the makeshift pulpit, the singing came to a gradual stop. Most Church Sundays, Daniel sought to glean something from the ministers‘ words. Now he only scorned them. He believed in God‘s grace and strength, but he suddenly wondered who these men were to interpret Scripture. Did they know any more than he? They had been elected by the community, but what did the community know? They were all yet ignorant of Reverend Yoder‘s crime. The more he considered it, the more Aiden‘s accusation seemed probable. Reverend Yoder had murdered his son, Kyle, and he‘d gone on with his life as if he‘d done nothing less offensive than use modern machinery on his farm. He held back a grimace, wondering how he and that young mother of twins should face the harshness of the shunning when Reverend Yoder had done far worse. A murderer had been preaching to the community each Church Sunday for the past almost ten years, and no one seemed the wiser. When Reverend Yoder stepped up to the lectern, he kept his icy blues on his Bible. Daniel understood why he avoided looking at anyone with those eyes. He had much to hide. Like any criminal. Disgusted, Daniel could barely look at him either. He shifted his gaze to Tara, sitting on the women‘s side of the room. Pink and proper-looking, she seemed pleased to be leaving soon after Christmas to meet her boyfriend in Maryland. He was happy she had found someone new. He had near abandoned Tara kneeling before the bishop on their wedding day, and now she was moving on with her life, with someone she apparently cared for. Daniel, on the other hand, wondered if 148

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happiness would sidestep him. He recalled the bitterness in Aiden‘s voice before he had left last night. Had he done the right thing, letting Aiden leave? He was surprised during the noon feast that the ministers kept their distance. Bishop Hershberger glanced at him from across the large oak table where he nibbled off his plate, but no words were exchanged. When the family was crammed back in the buggy heading for home, Daniel could hardly believe that he had not even swapped one single word with any of the ministers. Perhaps they had determined it best to leave him be for Christmas. Or perhaps no shunning would be issued at all. They might avoid him entirely during his stay in Illinois, and he could return to Montana and still keep his connection with his family and everything in Henry. But Daniel realized that was unlikely. The ministers were probably plotting a surprise attack, waiting for when he was alone and vulnerable and his guard was down, like how cougars pounce on unsuspecting prey.

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Chapter Seventeen

―YOU seemed distracted at church,‖ Samuel said to Daniel at the kitchen table, where Elisabeth had served them stovetop-brewed coffee and warmed-up apple pie. The others were busy going about necessary chores or their personal needs. Daniel had begun to relish the quiet, on the verge of attacking his second slice of pie, when his father had sat at the table across from him. ―I‘m a bit tired, been a long week.‖ Daniel sipped his coffee, finding the hot liquid soothing and revitalizing. Never much of a coffee drinker, today he needed a boost wherever he could find one. His spirits dragged like a shaft after a horse had broken loose from its buggy. He only hoped his father‘s interrogation of him would be short. ―Do you plan on leaving for Montana as soon as you get your truck?‖ Samuel asked. ―I haven‘t decided.‖ Daniel figured maybe he‘d stay a bit longer, since Aiden had already settled back in Montana. He had the luxury to remain, especially if the ministers stayed clear of him. But he held back from expressing this thought to his father. He did not want to award him with a false sense of victory. ―Why did Aiden leave so suddenly?‖ Samuel‘s tone emanated a lightness, a lilt of delight that Aiden and Daniel were not heading back to Montana together. Daniel shrugged. He took a bite of his pie and washed it down with a sip of coffee. The steam from his mug washed over his face. ―He had a sudden change of plans,‖ he said. ―I already mentioned it.‖ ―You did say he lives near you in Montana, ya?‖ ―Ya,‖ Daniel said, his head heavy. ―He lives near me.‖ 150

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―How close?‖ Daniel lifted his eyes and ogled his father. Suddenly, he felt like a cocked hunting rifle. ―You‘d be surprised how close.‖ With a grunt, Samuel pushed his empty plate to the center of the table and stood. Wordlessly, he strode into the hallway. A moment later, the front door shut. Suspecting he‘d gone out to do chores, Daniel grabbed for his coat, hat, and gloves and followed him outside through the utility room. Elisabeth called to him. ―What about your slice of pie? You haven‘t finished.‖ ―Keep it warm for me,‖ he said, marching out the door. Samuel was already shoveling snow from the door to the buggy shed when Daniel drew near. This time, Daniel aimed to cross-examine his father. Standing silent as he watched his father‘s bent form pile snow off to the side, he waited until Samuel took notice of him. With Samuel peering at him over his shoulder, Daniel said, ―Why did you ask Aiden Cermak to leave Henry last year?‖ The shovel in Samuel‘s hand froze. Briefly, Daniel worried his bold question might topple his father. He was glad he had the shovel ready to steady himself. He softened his tone when Samuel refused to answer. ―Why, Dad?‖ ―I‘m glad he left last year, and I‘m glad he‘s gone now.‖ Samuel began shoveling with extra vigor, his bare knuckles white from gripping the handle. ―We were mistaken to ask him to come here that first time. I was mistaken to allow him back for Mark‘s wedding.‖ ―Then why did you?‖ ―I thought I was doing the right thing.‖ ―Why are you afraid of him?‖ ―It‘s not fear, it‘s common sense. He doesn‘t belong here, he‘s English. The Amish and English shouldn‘t mix.‖ Daniel‘s exasperation with his father subsided, and a new sensation, something akin to pity, filled him. He watched Samuel shovel around the shed door. His father was well into middle age now, and he was only getting older, older and slower, and perhaps more cemented into his orthodox ways. 151

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―Remember what he did for us?‖ Daniel said. ―Remember how he swerved his car in front of that crazy drunk driver to save us? Do you remember all that?‖ For the first time, Daniel actually thought he witnessed his father blush. He was unsure if the red in his cheeks came from hard work, anger, or what he suspected, embarrassment. Samuel clearly did not wish to dwell on the topic of Aiden Cermak. Yet Daniel needed to get to the root of the rot. ―He‘s a hero to the family, don‘t you think?‖ Daniel kept a tight look on his father. Spiking the shovel deep into the snow and grasping the handle, Samuel turned to his son with flickering eyes. A shot of cold breath erupted out of his mouth and nostrils. ―There are no such things as heroes, Daniel Schrock,‖ he said. ―God‘s will is all that exists. Aiden did nothing special; he was guided by the hand of da Hah. You should understand that by now, unless you are questioning your faith. That‘s what I worry for, that Aiden might make you question your life here in Henry, and all we stand for.‖ Daniel shook his head. ―Dad, I do not question my faith. I believe more strongly than ever. Aiden actually makes me appreciate my Amish upbringing more. That‘s why it‘s all so sad.‖ Silent a moment, Samuel seemed to pry deep into Daniel‘s mind, as if he wanted to grasp onto his thoughts. To make sure he understood fully what Daniel was saying. Daniel almost wanted to laugh at his father‘s discomfort but, stemming from a long history of respect for him, refrained. Drawing in his lips, Samuel said, ―It‘s Christmas. This is when we spend time with the family.‖ Daniel watched his father lumber into the house, his shoulders drooped. With a heavy sigh, he pulled the shovel from the snow bank and began finishing his father‘s chore.

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put on their coats and told everyone they were going to the barn to get some peace. Neither were interested in playing Aggravation at the kitchen table. To the surprise of the others, they said they would milk Peppermint, the family‘s one dairy cow, as an excuse to get away. ―But I already milked her,‖ Grace said. ―We‘ll milk her again,‖ Daniel said. The milking would not go wasted, Daniel suspected, since Grace often did a haphazard job. Inside the barn, Daniel led Peppermint from her stall and hitched her to a post before a trough of oats. He pushed his wide-brimmed hat higher on his head and wiped down the cow‘s udder. Sure enough, the sometimes careless Grace had left the udder half filled. Mark swapped places with Daniel and grabbed hold of the cow‘s teats. Daniel sat on a bale of hay and watched him milk. Steam from the milk rose up underneath the cow. ―How does Heidi like being a wife?‖ Daniel asked, picking off a piece of straw and chewing on it. ―She likes it fine,‖ Mark said. ―Her parents and sisters left for Texas Friday. She‘s already missing them, but she‘s a sturdy girl; she‘ll get used to things.‖ ―She getting along okay with Mom and Dad?‖ ―Good enough, I figure,‖ Mark said. ―Heidi‘s here more than me. She says Dad stays out of the house a lot. But that‘s fine. You know how Heidi is, fairly upfront. Not sure Mom and Dad are used to that.‖ ―No,‖ Daniel said, ―I don‘t figure they are.‖ The steady jets of steaming milk hitting the stainless steel bucket filled the ensuing silence until Daniel mentioned how much he liked Heidi. ―She‘s a good choice for you,‖ he added. ―I think you‘ll both be right happy with each other in the years to come.‖ Mark adjusted his squeezing and smiled up at his big bruder. ―Danke, she‘s the best girl I coulda found, for sure. Going down to Texas for rumspringa was a good idea. God sure did put me on the right path.‖ Daniel smiled over Mark‘s words. God did have a funny way about Him. At one time, he‘d believed Aiden was an obstacle to overcome. After they‘d met by chance at Glacier National Park six 153

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months ago, he‘d realized God had meant for them to be together. Or at least he had thought. Now he was unsure. Did Aiden want to remain a couple? He had left so suddenly and angrily. And now he refused to answer his cell phone. Daniel had attempted to call him six times since returning from church at the Stahley‘s, and each time his phone had gone straight to voice mail. Aiden hadn‘t even returned his text messages. Daniel had switched on his ringer to be sure not to miss his call. He did not care if his family eyed him when his phone went off in his pants pocket. But it had remained mute. Peppermint mooed, kicked at the straw with her hind legs, settled her snout into the oats. ―I wish you weren‘t going back to Montana,‖ Mark said, following Daniel‘s thoughts. He glanced at Daniel from under his straw hat, his mouth taut. His brown eyes told Daniel he wanted to say more, but in their silence Daniel understood to let the moment pass. How much did Mark truly understand? Had Aiden been right? Had Mark sent that letter back in August, asking for him to find Aiden, knowing already that they were living together as a couple, like he and Heidi now were? Was the letter merely his way of showing approval without being upfront? ―I won‘t be far from reach,‖ Daniel said as the warmth of brotherly affection surged inside him, mixed with that ever-present dread. He was proud of his younger brother. He had come far in a mere few years. Mark used to be self-indulgent and unresponsive. Now he was as outstanding a community member as the Amish could hope for. As outstanding as any community could hope for. But Daniel was skeptical he could be truly open with him, for both of their best interests. Even if Mark had put two and two together and accepted Daniel in his own way, they could never discuss his lifestyle candidly. ―You can reach me whenever need be,‖ Daniel said. ―You got my address, and you can always call me on my cell phone from the phone shack.‖ ―So you‘re going to leave the church? It‘s final?‖ Daniel gathered no reason to string Mark along. Any moment the ministers might show at the farm and confront him again. This time he 154

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would not mince words. He would tell them plainly he was not remaining in Henry and that, unless they decided he could live in Montana and still keep a connection with the community, which was a long shot, he would be leaving the church. ―I think I have no choice now,‖ he said toward the straw-covered ground. ―Not much else I can do.‖ ―You were baptized, there‘ll be the shunning, you might not be able to come back here.‖ Mark‘s tone was not preachy. He merely stated a cold, hard fact. Kicking the unpleasantness aside, Daniel jumped up and tossed his toothpick to the ground once he noticed the cow‘s udder near drained. ―Let‘s not talk about that now.‖ He stood over Mark. ―I want to give you something. Something for you and Heidi.‖ Mark squeezed the last drop from Peppermint. He stood, the steaming bucket weighted by his side, and faced Daniel. ―You already gave us a wedding gift. You made us those night tables, remember? Heidi keeps telling me you‘re more gifted in woodworking than her father and me.‖ Daniel allowed the feeling of pride to fill him. The ministers frowned upon immodesty. None of that mattered now. ―I want to give you something more,‖ he said to Mark. ―Let‘s get the milk into the refrigerator, and then we can take a ride.‖ The family was still playing their board game when Daniel told them he and Mark were taking the buggy. He refused to say where they were going. He wouldn‘t even tell Mark. When Moriah and Grace pleaded to tag along, he said firmly, ―No,‖ and they backed off, knowing he‘d meant it. The family‘s inquisitive stares followed them out the door. Gertrude led them toward the falling sun, which was hazy and round like an enormous sweet potato pie. Another gentle snowfall had begun blowing in from the north. Daniel, careful to navigate the snowy shoulders, kept the mare at a gentle walk. Mark said nothing during their drive, his forehead full of wrinkles under his felt hat. They passed the quiet farmhouses and the dilapidated Amish cemetery where Daniel‘s wife and baby son were interred. The Amish were not mawkish over such things—or they pretended not to be. The brothers 155

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traveled past the nondescript tombstones with only the unspoken awareness of who was buried there. ―It‘s your farmland,‖ Mark said, eyes wide, when Daniel pulled into the unplowed driveway fifteen minutes later. ―Why did we come here?‖ Daniel set the brake and climbed out. He stood overlooking the small thirty-acre tract he had bought a few months before he and Esther had married. No buildings stood on it, since the tornado that had ripped through nearly two years ago had left nothing standing, other than a few ridgepoles and the wooden fence. He and the other men in the community had removed the debris and torn down the remains of the house, barn, and woodshop, too unstable to leave in their dilapidated states. The community had wanted to rebuild for him, but Daniel had been unable to imagine himself living alone after the deaths of his wife and baby son. Tucking away his losses, he‘d moved back home with his family. The English farmer who rented the land came from thirty miles away to use the good earth for growing his soybeans. Many farmers in the area rented or purchased land to add to their acreage, far from their homes. They took land wherever they could grab it. Daniel understood how increasingly expensive and difficult it was to come by. ―I already talked to Mr. Sweeney, the English farmer I rent the land to,‖ Daniel said to Mark, who had climbed from the buggy and stood next to him. Mark‘s eyes were riveted on the snow-blanketed field that abutted a thin grove of trees. ―I wanted to let him know before he began the spring crop. He knows to fully vacate by January fifteenth. I‘ve already got the paperwork. The land is yours now, and when the snow clears, the community can build you and Heidi a nice house and barn and woodshop to go on top of it.‖ Mark‘s mouth dropped open. ―Are you speaking clearly? Is this the truth?‖ ―It‘s yours.‖ ―Daniel, you‘re… you‘re too kind.‖ ―Makes the most sense, don‘t you think? Why let some English farmer have the land? I don‘t need the money from the rent anymore, not really.‖ 156

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Tipping his hat higher on his head, Mark ogled his new land, his eyes swallowing each and every acre, each and every plank of the ramshackle wooden fence, the one structure left standing in the wake of the tornado. ―I‘m speechless, Daniel. I don‘t know what to say.‖ Daniel shrugged. ―You don‘t got to say anything.‖ ―But it makes me sad too. Means you probably won‘t be moving back to Henry. I always thought you might rebuild on your land someday.‖ ―No, I can‘t see I‘ll be able to do that.‖ After a moment surveying the land in silence, Mark turned to Daniel and said, ―Shouldn‘t I at least pay you for it? It‘s prime land. Let me owe you for it.‖ ―We‘re brothers,‖ Daniel said, staring at the snow-covered spread of earth. ―You should never owe me for anything.‖

DANIEL sent Mark home. He decided he wanted to walk back to the farm and be alone with his meditations. To take in the winter landscape some more before leaving in a few days, perhaps to say goodbye to everything for the last time. Mark seemed to have understood. He steered Gertrude down the driveway with only a parting glance through the small side window. In the descending darkness, the flat farmland faded. Enough snow had fallen over the past few days that walking the fields had become cumbersome. He did not care. The snow sucking at his boots failed to hold him back. He came to the cemetery where his wife and son were buried. He had not stood by their graves since the day the community had put them into the ground nearly two years ago. He wasn‘t even sure he‘d be able to pick out their tombstones. Then he remembered. They‘d been buried next to a lone oak tree. They‘d been some of the last community members put to rest in that small parcel of earth adjoining private farmland. He traipsed through the cemetery, leaving behind solo footprints in the snow. No one had visited their deceased loved ones in a while, at 157

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least not since the snow had begun to fall last week. It would be disrespectful to frequent a gravesite. The dead were gone, and it was no use wishing them back. God would take that as an affront. Personal grieving was selfish. The community tended the grounds out of deference, but little reason for that in winter, while everything lay dormant. Finding their tombstones, he merely stared down at them. They were no larger than one of his mother‘s family-sized serving platters. A simple inscription on each read: ―Esther L. Schrock; born February 23, 1985; died March 13, 2010;‖ and, ―Zachariah A. Schrock; born February 8, 2010; died March 13, 2010.‖ Their deaths had seemed from another lifetime. So much had happened to him since. He wondered what his life would be like now if the tornado had never touched down, tearing through his world. Divorce was impossible in his Amish faith. Would he be happy living the life of a typical Amish farmer with a growing family? Strange how events in life unfolded, like the making and taking of life itself. Shedding any note of sadness from his memories, he headed back toward the lane where walking would be easier. The English snowplows had already passed by a second time since he and Mark had surveyed the farmland. Unwieldy snow berms made walking awkward. Burdened with thoughts, he walked the middle of the desolate lanes. Had he been too harsh with Aiden? Had Daniel‘s severity caused him so much heartache he‘d refused to even answer his cell phone? The original cabin owners had never installed a ground line, and Aiden insisted they keep it that way, so Daniel had no way to get ahold of him other than his cell phone. They used satellite service for the Internet, which Aiden needed to e-mail his articles to publishers. Daniel wondered about the laptop Aiden had left behind. How would Aiden get any work done without it? Alone on the still lane, he pulled out his cell phone and speed dialed Aiden‘s number. The light from the phone stung his eyes. He blew out a billow of steam when Aiden‘s phone went straight to voice mail for the umpteenth time. It would be near two o‘clock Montana time. For sure he‘d be hunkered down in the cabin by now, probably

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sitting on the sofa reading a paperback next to a roaring fire with a steaming mug of coffee or hot chocolate. He walked, plodding past the landscape that seemed to absorb all sound, even the crunch of snow under his heavy boots. Several more attempts, and still Aiden refused to answer the phone. Maybe the battery on his phone was dead and he had yet to recharge it. He was always complaining his old Motorola RAZR could not keep a charge for more than twenty-four hours. When he reached the family farm, he called Aiden once more while hidden behind the barn, away from his family‘s condemning eyes. They knew he had the phone and had even taken advantage of it a few times during his visit, but still, chatting away on a cell phone in front of an Amish farmhouse on a Christmas afternoon would look improper. Again, straight to voice mail. Aiden had some way of making a point. Daniel fumed.

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Chapter Eighteen

DANIEL awoke, dazed. He hardly recognized the room. Then he remembered last night when David had put up a fuss after he‘d learned he and Daniel would be sharing his bedroom. Not too long ago, David would‘ve enjoyed sleeping in the same room with his big bruder. Last night, he had stomped downstairs with a tart grunt, pillow and quilt under arms, headed for the sofa. Sunlight streaked across the bed as he gazed outside the window. A steely cloud cover from the south eased its way northward, ready to burst with more snow. The dark clouds rising above the horizon against the clear sky reminded him of the mountain ranges in Montana. A longing for the cabin, and for Aiden, tapped him of breath. Early in Montana or not, he was going to call Aiden. He‘d telephoned again in vain late last night before finally rolling over and letting the turbulent dreams take over. He dialed. Like yesterday, the phone went directly to voice mail. Daniel grew outright angry. The Englisher pushed his stubbornness too far. It was Monday, the day after Christmas, and he was sure Kevin Hassler, a hardworking newspaperman, would be in his office bright and early. Kevin answered the first ring with a deep, fully awake voice. Skipping normal greeting protocol, Daniel asked if he had heard from Aiden since he‘d taken him to the airport. Kevin, sounding surprised, said he had not spoken with him since he had dropped him at Champaign‘s Willard Airport. Whether or not he‘d caught a flight, Kevin was uncertain.

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Daniel clicked off the phone. He tried to click off his worries at the breakfast table, where everyone was still going on about how wunderbar he was to have handed over his land to Mark and Heidi. Annoyed with the attention, Daniel excused himself to do some choring around the farm. With his mind still hovering over Aiden‘s refusing to answer his cell phone, he tinkered in the shed awhile, seeing if anything needed fixing, as their well-worn old-fashioned equipment usually did. No matter how hard he toiled, he could not escape from worrying about Aiden. Was it possible Aiden had left him? When Daniel had asked him where he was going, Aiden had replied, ―Who knows?‖ What had he meant by that? After a while, he found his roving anxieties carrying his feet out of the shed and in a spiral pattern across the fallow oat field. The only signs of life were the few birds feeding on the winter berries in the wan bushes. The horses were still stabled. Uneaten hay lay atop the snow, soiling the whiteness. Everything else was stark white or gray… dead. Perhaps love wasn‘t enough, he considered, kicking at the crusty snow. Two people who come together looking to satisfy two different wants can only lead to a pulling apart. Like plow horses yoked together, pulling in opposite directions. If Aiden had left him over their differences, then they had never meant anything to each other to begin with. The promises Aiden and Daniel had made to each other in the backcountry of Glacier National Park, that first time they had made love, were as brittle as a frozen twig. As he walked and tugged at his beard, the snowy landscape absorbed the sounds. Everything was deathly quiet, muted, sucked into a vacuum. If only the landscape could soak up his thoughts. Looking over the whiteness of the dormant field, he suddenly longed for summer. He pictured the tall oats swaying under a hot central Illinois sun, sparkling golden like honey. Across the street, where their Mennonite 161

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neighbors, the Martins, grew soybeans, he visualized the rich dark green. Or down the lane, where the Rupps‘ corn grew so tall even he, at six four, could get lost walking through the field. He smelled the tealike sycamores, thick in the humid air. Felt the sunrays on the nape of his neck, which was brown and glistening with sweat from toiling in the fields. The sharp shadows providing cool shelter to him and the animals. The shrill of the treehoppers, the chirp of the swallows softening summer‘s touch. But summer, like Aiden, like Henry, seemed forever out of his reach. Dirt and animal tracks crisscrossed the snowy field when he reached the thin strip of trees that bordered the next farm. He recognized a rabbit‘s prints in the snow, followed by Boris‘s. The hound must‘ve been chasing the rabbit until it absconded into the grove. Someone wearing heavy boots had cut through the woods onto the field. From the looks of the prints, they were about a day old. The prints were unfamiliar. But he knew nothing of his family anymore. Not even who wore what boots. A magpie fluttered from the spindly trees over the snowy field past the family‘s farmhouse. The home looked as white as the snow, blending into the landscape. Vanishing from Daniel‘s view. Daniel trudged to the woodshop, where he hoped to shut out the world. He glanced out of the window as the mountain-looking clouds crept closer, overtaking the sky. He pictured him and Aiden hiking around the Montana backcountry. Aiden seemed to come alive in the forest. The way he would scramble up rock faces and leap from boulder to boulder, bounce down the trails as if the soles of his hiking boots were attached to coils. Secluded in the woodshop, he figured he‘d call the sheriff in Flathead County. If Aiden wanted to play childish games, he would play along. The sheriff‘s office said they would do a ―wellness check‖ at the cabin. Daniel paced over the wood shavings while he waited for the police to call back. Jumping when his phone went off thirty minutes later, he nearly tripped over a pile of lumber. ―Hello, this is Daniel Schrock.‖ 162

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―Mr. Schrock, this is Officer Lanza from the Flathead County Sheriff‘s Department. We gave a look at your cabin. No one seems to be at home. The lights are off. No smoke coming out of the chimney.‖ ―Did you try to enter?‖ ―We can‘t do that, Mr. Schrock. But the officer who checked your cabin says it seems to have been closed off for some time. We‘ve had about six inches of snow up here since yesterday, and he says there are no tire tracks in the driveway or footprints on the premises. He asked one of your neighbors, a Mr. Olsen, and he said that he hasn‘t seen anyone at the cabin in a week and that your mailbox at the end of the lane is near full. The officer testified to that.‖ No longer playing a game, Daniel said, ―Did he look in the windows, knock hard on the door?‖ ―Yes, sir, Mr. Schrock. The officer said he checked around a good fifteen minutes. He even peeked inside your garage. From what he determined, no one is home.‖ ―Okay,‖ Daniel murmured. ―Danke—thank you for your help.‖ A few minutes later, Daniel called the one airline that flew out of Champaign‘s airport. The airline‘s operator had no record of an Aiden Cermak purchasing any tickets anywhere in their route system for the date Daniel had specified or any other. Clutching the cell phone, Daniel wondered if Kevin had been mistaken about driving him to the airport. Maybe he had taken him to O‘Hare or Midway. But was it possible for Kevin to have been confused? Kevin Hassler was known for an occasional spot of booze, but he wasn‘t that dizzy. He called him again. Kevin, concern in his voice, said he had not only driven Aiden to Willard Airport, but he had helped him with his bags into the lobby. Maybe Aiden had gone home to Maryland. Maybe when he couldn‘t find a flight on Christmas Eve, he‘d rented a car and driven to his parents‘. Yes, that had to be the answer. Aiden must‘ve concluded spending the holidays alone would be unbearable. Airports had plenty of car rentals, even Champaign‘s small regional one. He rented a car, drove to Maryland, and was there now, safely surrounded by family. He refused to answer his cell phone to teach Daniel a lesson. 163

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Daniel dialed Aiden‘s parents in Maryland. Wanting to avoid alarming them in case Aiden hadn‘t gone there, he told them he was calling on Aiden‘s behalf, to wish everyone a belated Merry Christmas. They were delighted, and chatted a while. Daniel couldn‘t wait to hang up. Clearly, Aiden had not gone back to Maryland. Leaning against his workstation, another idea lifted his worries. Aiden had gone backpacking. Alone in the Swan Range behind their cabin, or perhaps even into Glacier National Park, where the massive mountains blocked cell reception. But could anyone hike mountains in winter, even with snowshoes? The officer at the Flathead County Sheriff‘s Department had said they‘d received six inches of snow since Christmas. For sure at least five times that amount had fallen in the higher elevations. No way could Aiden climb steep switchbacks buried under heavy mountain snow, even with snowshoes. He was too astute to even try. Wasn‘t he? Daniel called information to connect him to Glacier National Park. The ranger who answered told him no Aiden Cermak had registered for a backcountry permit. And from the ranger‘s data, the park‘s only visitors were a group of retired cross-country skiers from Whitefish. Maybe the Forestry Department knew something. The ranger provided Daniel the number, and he called them next. Still nothing. Frustrated, Daniel nearly chucked his phone at the window. Once more, he dialed Aiden‘s number. ―Come on, Aiden, answer your shussly phone.‖ Straight to voice mail. Paralyzing hopelessness seized Daniel‘s chest. It was true. No doubt now. No other explanation. Aiden had left him. Left him for good. But where had he gone? And how did he get there? They had no other vehicle. They had used Aiden‘s small Chevy Aveo to trade in for the Suburban. Maybe he bought a new one, or rented one, or took a train, or…. Daniel dropped his head into his hands. How long since he‘d cried out to God in the privacy of his woodshop? When he had feared

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falling in love with Aiden Cermak in the first place? Now he dreaded losing him.

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Chapter Nineteen

BADGER nibbled oats from Daniel‘s hand. His warm, pink tongue lapped over his palm. Daniel stroked his forehead. The gelding‘s ears flicked with pleasure. Other than a few tasty treats and soft caresses, the buggy horses seemed to be the only creatures on earth that demanded little from him. Daniel recalled the day last summer when Aiden had handfed Badger granola bars after their trip to the horse auction. He smiled. Aiden‘s thoughtful gestures always kindled his heart. ―Maybe I can ship you and Gertrude to Montana,‖ Daniel said to Badger, chuckling. ―I can build you two a nice barn all your own, and you can live with me.‖ Yet he wondered if he had any reason to return to Montana. After the latest failed attempt to reach Aiden on his cell phone, he began to abandon any hope he and Aiden would patch things up. One good thing about their relationship ending—Daniel could avoid the shunning. Or so he assumed. Either way, the notion provided scant comfort. He noticed Gertrude and the other buggy horse, Adelaide, were missing from their stalls. Someone must‘ve taken them out while he fiddled in the woodshop. His troubles had so absorbed him, he hadn‘t even noticed the buggies pulling out of the driveway. A rustling from somewhere in the barn drew him away from Badger. Perhaps whoever had taken the horses had returned.

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No surprise to find David toiling in the mule stall. Like Daniel, David had been keeping himself busy, hiding away from the family. ―Working hard again, I see,‖ Daniel said. David, bent over the trough, tensed only a moment. Squaring his shoulders, he continued to empty the chow bag in silence. Growing frustrated with his little brother‘s orneriness—and everything else—Daniel edged behind him. ―What‘s eating you?‖ ―Nothing‘s eating me.‖ David tossed the empty bag into a corner of the stall. He sounded equally gruff. ―You been acting like a bull at a rodeo since I got here,‖ Daniel said. Standing rigid, David faced Daniel with his mouth puckered and a fierce burning in his gray eyes. ―When you going back to Montana, anyway? Mark‘s wedding is done with.‖ ―You eager to see me go?‖ David‘s irksome silence egged Daniel on. ―What‘s going on with you? Tell me. I want to know.‖ ―You want to know? Okay, I‘ll tell you.‖ David clenched his small hands into fists. ―They‘re going to shun us.‖ ―What? No one is going to shun you. What makes you say that?‖ ―Wayne Fisher‘s sister ran off with that Englisher after she got baptized, and the family hasn‘t seen her since. And hardly nobody speaks with the family after all these years. They‘re the ones who have to suffer the shunning, not her, and she‘s the one who went against the Ordnung.‖ ―I know the Fishers,‖ Daniel said, his heart near his throat. ―I see them at the auctions and flea markets and at church. I see people talk to them. I talked to them before, near recent, last summer when I was here.‖ ―People say bad things behind their backs.‖ ―What do they say?‖ ―They say they‘re bad people, and they didn‘t do enough to keep her from running off. They‘ll say the same bad things about Mom and Dad. About all of us.‖

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―That‘s what‘s been bothering you?‖ David scrunched up his face. His eyes smoldered. ―You‘re going to be shunned,‖ he said. ―And we‘ll all have to live with it, all but you. You‘ll be in Montana. Away from everything. Fishing or whatever you do there, while we suffer. And you don‘t even care.‖ Daniel swallowed. ―You and the family are well regarded here,‖ he said. ―It would take much more than me getting shunned for you to earn the wrath of the community. Besides, I haven‘t been shunned. I may not be.‖ ―You caused too much trouble for everyone,‖ David went on. ―I wish you hadn‘t come back.‖ ―Don‘t you see what you‘re doing?‖ Daniel said to him, trying to be the steady eldest brother. ―You‘re behaving the exact way you worry everyone else might. You‘re shunning me because you‘re worried about being shunned. Is that fair?‖ David scowled, locked his arms across his chest. ―That‘s a shussly thing to say.‖ He turned his back to Daniel. ―Things would be much easier if that Aiden Cermak hadn‘t come here in the first place.‖ ―You used to near idolize Aiden, if I recall.‖ ―He‘s the reason you left, isn‘t it? He tempted you with the modern ways. You don‘t want to be plain no more.‖ ―I live very plainly in Montana.‖ Daniel labored to keep his poise. ―You got that cell phone and that big truck.‖ ―Those things don‘t matter.‖ ―They took you away from us.‖ ―No matter what modern contraptions I have, you‘re always going to be my bruder,‖ Daniel said, wanting to edge closer to David. To assure him some way. ―You‘re always welcome in my life, wherever I am, whatever I‘m doing.‖ The pleading in his own voice almost alarmed him. ―I hate Aiden Cermak,‖ David blurted, facing Daniel again. Tears welled in his reddened eyes. ―I hate him, and I‘m glad he‘s gone. I hope he‘s gone forever. I don‘t want to see him ever again. And I don‘t care

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if I don‘t see you no more, either.‖ David pushed past Daniel and darted from the barn. Daniel started after him but halted at the barn door. No point chasing him. He watched his little brother cross the field and disappear into the grove of trees, where he would most likely sulk for a few hours. Seemed many people wanted to run from him lately. He could hardly blame any of them.

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Chapter Twenty

ELISABETH was crocheting in the sitting room with the hiss of a lantern on the side table next to her. The gray clouds had already fully covered the sky, and the house had grown dim. She seemed focused on her task. Daniel hoped to sneak by her, but she must‘ve seen him beeline for the staircase. She called to him. Sighing, he stopped and faced her. Was he to have a confrontation with Elisabeth too? ―Is everything okay?‖ she said without hesitation. ―You seem upset over something.‖ ―No, I‘m fine.‖ ―Is it Aiden?‖ Daniel jerked up. He hadn‘t expected her to ask anything so direct. Maybe Aiden had been right. She understood more about their relationship than he was willing to confess. He couldn‘t help but inwardly chuckle, looking at Elisabeth with her crocheting across her lap. What truly percolated inside his proper-looking sister‘s head? ―I don‘t know where he is,‖ he said, indifferent if his voice sounded heavy with fret. His row with David had exhausted him. He wanted to climb into bed and sleep the world away. ―I could tell you been worrying over something,‖ Elisabeth said. ―Haven‘t you been able to reach him on your cell phone?‖ Flushing, Daniel shook his head without lifting his eyes. ―I don‘t think Aiden would disappear without saying anything.‖ He accepted his sister‘s words and tried to build on them. But deep down, he harbored little doubt Aiden had left him.

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Looking up, he suddenly noticed the house was painfully still. ―Where is everyone?‖ ―They‘re all gone,‖ Elisabeth said. ―Mark and Heidi wanted to make more rounds to thank everyone for coming to their wedding. Mom, Dad, and the girls went to Uncle Peter‘s for lunch. Mom and the girls are going to help Aunt Anna with her sewing, but Dad said he‘d be back early to do some watch repair. Uncle Peter‘s supposed to give the others a ride back.‖ Daniel stared at the blank white wall behind his sister. He knew little else to say. Laying aside her crocheting, Elisabeth made to get up from her rocking chair. ―Let‘s get some tea,‖ she said.

IN THE kitchen, Elisabeth poured them tea, brushing aside the strings from her kapp as she leaned over the table. Savoring the smell of the chamomile, Daniel sensed Elisabeth wanted to speak to him about something. Was it about him and Aiden? Would she finally tell him everything she had grasped about their relationship? He flushed, wondering. He‘d never had an intimate conversation with his sister before, not really. Perhaps now was the time. ―Would you like some pie?‖ she asked. ―Nay, danke.‖ Daniel brought the warm teacup to his lips and blew into the hot liquid. Over the rim of the cup, he watched Elisabeth return the teapot to the stove and sit opposite him at the table. He wanted to say something to her but was uncertain how to begin. He was glad when she spoke first. ―Nice to have some quiet,‖ she said. ―Ya, it is. Did Mom and Dad take Leah and the baby too?‖ In response to Elisabeth‘s nod as she sipped her tea, he said, ―That‘s goot. You won‘t have to worry over them for a while.‖ They sipped in silence a moment longer. Finally, Daniel was compelled to say something more. ―I spoke with David out in the barn,‖ he blurted, unsure where his words would carry them.

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Elisabeth raised her eyes over her teacup. ―For sure that musta been tough. He‘s been giving you a hard time of it. We all could tell.‖ ―Ya.‖ Daniel paused, pondering what to add. ―I found out what‘s been bugging him. He thinks if I get shunned, you and everyone will be shunned too.‖ Elisabeth set down her teacup and eyed Daniel across the table. Apprehension lined her gentle face. ―Is it really that bad, Daniel? Will the ministers insist the community shun you?‖ ―I figure so, unless….‖ ―Unless what?‖ ―Ach, I don‘t know.‖ Daniel shook his head. He lowered his eyes to the table, watched the steam rise from his teacup. The golden liquid of the chamomile reminded him of Aiden‘s eyes. Fatigue unexpectedly sapped him of energy. Badly, he wanted to crawl into bed. Silent a moment, Elisabeth seemed to sense his wanting to change the subject. Rounding her shoulders with her hands firm around her teacup, she said, ―You probably always wondered why I never courted anyone, why I never married. I always wanted to tell you. I think now is the time.‖ Daniel leveled his gaze at her. Why had she blurted out such a comment? She was right about his being curious. He had wondered for many years why his twenty-four-year-old sister, at about the age of eighteen, had suddenly stopped courting the many interested suitors in the community. With a flush coming over him, he almost wished she wouldn‘t continue. He considered ushering in a new topic, but she clearly wanted to press on. ―Do you remember that May about six years ago?‖ Elisabeth said. ―When the minister from that district in Indiana came to Henry for the weekend?‖ Daniel nodded, yet his neck seemed made of lumber. He did not really remember. Many ministers visited the different Amish districts scattered across the United States. Henry had seen dozens of them come and go since Daniel was a boy. Tightening his mouth, he listened to what she had to say.

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―I never told anyone before,‖ Elisabeth said, her eyes on her tea. ―I figure I was ashamed, unsure how to handle everything. It was right after my eighteenth birthday.‖ She lingered, her lips parted. Daniel swallowed hard. He almost heard her thoughts. Cringing, he waited. ―Everyone was excited about the visiting minister,‖ she said finally, fingering the ear of her teacup. ―He was handsome, and seemed kind. I didn‘t think he even noticed me during church at the Rupp‘s. They held services outside that day, remember? It was late May, and God had given us such a wunderbar goot day. Mom and Dad talked to him for a while afterward. He visited the farm after supper. Dad had invited him, I think. I had to excuse myself to milk Dottie. Remember that cow? She was always so stubborn, never liked milking her. I was about finished when Reverend Raber came in. ―No one else was around. Everyone was back in the house. I could hear Grace and Mark—they were mere kinner then—arguing over something shussly on their way back from the henhouse. The reverend walked around the barn a lot, looking at things. All the sudden he started asking me about our farm. I was kinda bashful but answered his questions the best I could. I didn‘t want to disrespect a minister. ―He was real interested in the horses. I took him to their stalls and told him their names, how old each one was, and when we got them. Remember Dexter? I told him all about Dexter; how we got him when he was only a colt, from the Troyers, in exchange for our old corn seeder. I felt a little strange, but I figured it was my bashfulness. I always got a little uncomfortable around men. I started to curry brush Dexter to show him how fine his brown coat was. Reverend Raber seemed impressed. He stayed with me in the stall and watched me groom him. ―That‘s when he raped me,‖ Elisabeth said flatly. ―When he was finished, he fixed himself up and went back inside the house. He left town the next morning, so I never had to see him again.‖ Startled by his sister‘s frankness, Daniel gawked at her. His throat caught. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. A mere wisp of breath. Words seemed impossible, too remote for him to utter. How could he possibly respond to such a statement? He sipped more tea, his hand shaking, hoping the hot liquid would loosen his 173

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vocal cords. But before he tried to speak, Elisabeth had already continued with her disturbing story. ―I didn‘t know what to do right after,‖ she said. ―I stayed in the barn, scared and disbelieving. After a while, I wandered down the lane, too afraid to go back inside the house with him still there. I cut through the Miller farm and ended up at the creek. I fell to my knees. I prayed for God to explain to me what had happened. To make me feel better. I prayed till dark. When I came back, the reverend‘s buggy was gone, so I knew it was safe to go inside.‖ Daniel would‘ve been twenty years old at the time. Still too busy with his selfish rumspringa to have noticed any changes in his sister‘s behavior. His stomach smoldered like burning compost. He wanted to cry out, to beg her to forgive him for not being there when she had needed him. Yet her gentle smile perplexed him. He studied her from across the table, wondering how she could be so complacent, so peaceful, while recalling such a traumatic memory. ―I was legal age, according to the English laws,‖ she went on, ―so I wasn‘t sure how telling the police would matter. I mean, he didn‘t physically hurt me, not too badly. I did what he told me. I didn‘t fight back. I would never use violence against another human being for any reason. I upheld the Ordnung, like we been taught. I wasn‘t sure the English officials would understand. So, all these years, I kept it to myself. I didn‘t want to worry anyone over it. I figured it was God‘s will, anyway. I know it sounds strange, even to us Amish, considering what the reverend did to me; but I truly believe. Da Hah willed what happened to guide me to my destiny.‖ Daniel sat rigid. God‘s will? God‘s will to have his sister raped by a man, a man who traveled from different Amish communities throughout the United States, proclaiming to be a disciple of God? Abusing his authority, violating young girls. Daniel realized they were both adults now, no longer children. Seriousness sheathed their lives. No matter how much effort they used to block out the evils of the world, horrible things filtered through. He almost wanted to get sick. Elisabeth must‘ve seen the astonishment in his eyes. ―Don‘t you understand, Daniel?‖ she said, her voice soft. ―If it hadn‘t happened, I wouldn‘t be doing what brings me the most 174

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happiness today. I wouldn‘t have discovered how much I love teaching, helping the kinner. Don‘t you see?‖ Elisabeth‘s voice receded into the background. Daniel stared at the dapples of sunlight on the mahogany floor, only to watch them vanish as quickly as they‘d appeared. Everything of value to him seemed to be disappearing before his eyes. He looked to Elisabeth. Her face was in shadows from her downcast head, yet her blue eyes sparkled. ―I didn‘t always feel that way, of course,‖ she said. ―At first, I was angry. I thought that I was cheated out of a life. I wanted to court boys like the others, but I couldn‘t. No matter how hard I tried to, I couldn‘t face any of them. I was angry how the minister had left me. ―Then I started to see the clues.‖ The semblance of a smile curved Elisabeth‘s lips. ―You know how you always talk about looking for God‘s clues, Daniel? I tried to look for them, the way you say you do. That‘s when I started to spend more time with the kinner in the community, helping whenever I could. I was never happier than when I was with the children. Then everything became clear. I decided to dedicate my life to them. God musta heard my prayers while at the creek. Daniel, it‘s so fine teaching at the schoolhouse. I never woulda learned how much I enjoy it if… if what happened never happened.‖ The ensuing silence was too great. Words dribbled from Daniel‘s mouth, slowly and painfully. His voice sounded hollow, artificial. ―I… I suspect Mom and Dad might know about it. I mean, about what happened.‖ Elisabeth lowered her eyes. ―The night it happened, Mom and Dad never did ask me where I been after I got back from the creek praying. My dress was kinda a mess with straw and dirt. I figure Mom especially mighta known what happened. Months passed before she looked me in the face. I figure she was relieved I wasn‘t with child. I‘m not sure she even remembers now. In a way, I hope she doesn‘t. I couldn‘t imagine the pain of knowing something like that happened to your daughter, and there‘s little you can do to change things.‖ All Daniel muttered was, ―I… I‘m glad you were able to get it off your mind and… and make the best of things.‖

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―Ach, and I never been happier, Daniel.‖ Elisabeth slapped the tabletop with both hands. ―It‘s not so bad, being single. The family fulfills things for me a husband could, at least in part. And of course I have more children than I ever imagined.‖ She laughed. ―I guess I coulda got married. But things just didn‘t happen that way for me. I‘m okay with it. I used to think of the shame I was bringing everyone, being an old maid. But now I realize they wouldn‘t be able to get along much without me, especially now with little Leah so ill and baby Gretchen coming along. I think Mom and Dad look at me not getting married as a blessing, although they‘d never admit it.‖ His need to be alone overpowered him. The world weighed on his back. He had to get out. The tiredness from before had ripened into a dull prodding, like a hot breeze scratching his face. Elisabeth stood. ―There‘s one other thing. Wait one moment, ya?‖ She left the kitchen. Daniel stirred on the bench, unsure what she was up to. A minute later she returned. She handed him a letter-sized piece of paper, folded in two. After she took her seat, Daniel questioned her with his eyes. She grinned, nodded toward the paper in his unsteady hand. ―Go ahead,‖ she said. ―Take a look.‖ Frightened almost of what he might uncover, especially after everything she had confessed to him, he unfolded the paper. His lower lip drooped. He ogled the paper and then turned his gaze to Elisabeth. ―Did you do this?‖ he asked under his breath. ―Ya,‖ Elisabeth said, grinning. ―I drew it Christmas Eve by lantern. I was up late alone. I couldn‘t help it. I hope you‘re not angry.‖ ―No, no.‖ Daniel shook his head, his mind muddled. He stared at the drawing, powerless to comprehend what he beheld. A portrait of him and Aiden. The ministers had decreed drawing the faces of people haughty, yet his eyes fixed on the portrait. Elisabeth‘s talent was evident. She had represented Aiden near perfectly. Although she had used graphite pencil, he almost detected the sparkle of Aiden‘s honey-brown eyes. And his own image looked… well, happy. She had captured Daniel smiling. His nose aloft, his expression declaring he owned the world. 176

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―But why?‖ he said, finally looking into Elisabeth‘s glossy eyes. ―I planned on giving it to Aiden,‖ she said. ―For a Christmas present. But he left before I could. Perhaps you‘ll give it to him for me when you see him again?‖ Daniel‘s mind rolled. Did she believe he and Aiden were a couple, like Mark and Heidi? Or had she merely drawn a portrait of two friends, two people she admired? Daniel folded the portrait in quarters, as if the paper were made of the most fragile parchment, and carefully stowed it in his front pants pocket. ―Danke,‖ he muttered, at a loss for proper words. ―I… I‘ll make sure he gets it.‖ The front door opened. A moment later, David came into the kitchen. He stopped, looked at Elisabeth, shifted his gaze to Daniel. His face distorted with anger, he stomped back out the door. ―Enough of this for now,‖ Daniel said. He came around the table and kissed Elisabeth lightly on her cheek. Her grin proved she cherished such an atypical gesture from her brother. Daniel figured it was the proper thing to do, considering. ―I best see if I can patch things up with that boy,‖ he said, and followed David out the door. Dozens of footprints in the snow went off in multiple directions from the front stoop. But David was nowhere to be seen. The barn stood empty, as did the buggy shed and henhouse. In a way, Daniel was relieved. He had little energy to deal with any more family drama. He found his feet carrying him away, down the lane, his hands thrust deep in the pockets of his jacket and his head hung with fret. Elisabeth raped? Too much to digest. For six years she‘d locked that horrible secret inside of her, never confiding in a soul. Why had she opted to tell him now? A minister had violated her. A minister like Reverend Yoder. Heat traveled along his neck and into his cheeks. He made fists inside his pockets. Reverend Yoder had killed his own son, another one had raped his sister, and now they were accusing him—him—of going against his promise to the church, threatening him with the shunning. Such hypocrites, all of them. 177

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He visualized the portrait Elisabeth had drawn of him and Aiden, tucked in his pants pocket. Elisabeth had captured the essence of the plucky Englishman. Had she captured Daniel accurately too? He‘d looked so content with his face mere inches from Aiden‘s. He shook his head. His worries seemed pale in comparison to what his sister had endured. He was glad, at least, that she had found peace. He supposed in some way the incident was part of God‘s will. Who was he to question otherwise? He had walked a good few miles, and, looking up, he found he had crossed a thin strip of woods and onto unknown farmland. Gazing around at the blanket of snow, he suddenly recognized the white farmhouse in the distance. He had trespassed onto the property of Reverend Yoder.

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Chapter Twenty-One

HE TROD steadfastly toward the Yoder farmhouse. Resentment boiled up inside him. Maybe he should wait for his mood to temper. But perhaps now was the perfect time. He needed some kind of release over the entire Kyle incident. If for any reason, as a gift to Elisabeth. As a gift to Aiden. The ministers would cross him sooner or later. Who better than he to initiate the confrontation and get the ordeal over with? As he stomped through the snowy field, he wondered if he had come to the Yoder farm subconsciously. Or perhaps the hand of God had guided him there for a purpose. Harnessing a surge of assurance, he stepped onto the compacted snow of the driveway when Reverend Yoder appeared out of the barn. They narrowed their eyes at each other. Daniel had no concern about pretenses now. He looked past the reverend‘s shoulder toward the barn, the same barn in which the reverend had said he‘d discovered his son‘s hanging body. He wanted to inspect the barn himself, like Aiden had more than a year ago. But for what purpose? Reverend Yoder had killed Kyle and hanged him like curing meat. No time for formalities. What Daniel had to say to him would be short. Short and sharp like a hunting knife. Reverend Yoder approached closer. His black felt hat failed to conceal his razor-sharp blue eyes. ―What is it that brings you here?‖ He spoke in Pennsylvania German, his voice penetrating like his eyes, harsh, without nonsense. Looking into the reverend‘s cold face, Daniel had no doubt long resentments had simmered between them. Hostilities lingered, as real as the snow under their boots. Daniel held firm, resisting the urge to march off in the direction from which he‘d come. 179

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―He that is without sin among you, let him cast a stone at her,‖ Daniel said in High German, quoting from Scripture. ―Are you here to give me a Bible lesson, Daniel Schrock?‖ ―I‘m only stating a much overlooked proverb,‖ Daniel said in English, staring at him fixedly. ―You, the one who does not even attend the gmays back in Rose Crossing? You, the one who is on the threshold of being shunned? Concerned with proverbs?‖ Reverend Yoder snorted. Steam from his nostrils shot into the air. He gazed straight at Daniel. ―You been judging me for near ten years, Reverend,‖ Daniel said. ―The time has come for me to judge you.‖ ―Suddenly you‘re bold,‖ the reverend said, reverting to English like Daniel. ―What brings this on?‖ The minister who had molested Elisabeth would go through life without recourse for his crime. God would judge him in the afterlife. But for Reverend Yoder, Daniel wanted some justice in this lifetime for what he had done to Kyle and Aiden. ―It‘s not boldness that makes me speak,‖ he said, ―it‘s truth that carries me.‖ ―Truth? What do you know about truth?‖ ―Not a lot, not a lot at all, but I‘m learning. I learned you can‘t keep lies buried, for they will well up like groundwater and drown you. Do you ever feel like that, Reverend? Like you‘ll drown in your own lies?‖ ―What are you going on about, Schrock? I have choring to do here.‖ He was about to head back for the barn when Daniel stopped him. ―You‘ll hear me out.‖ Reverend Yoder faced Daniel. Fine lines cut across his sagging skin and pulled around his piercing eyes. He had aged the past ten years, Daniel noted. Aged far quicker than any other man in the community. Years of bearing a heavy crime could leave one weary and old before one‘s time. Only his eyes remained bright. Yet they were not cheery—they shone more like torches. ―Don‘t you use such an insolent tone with me, Daniel Schrock. I‘m your minister, elected into office, even though I did not want the 180

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position. I served this community well, for twelve years now, when I‘d rather be fishing in Montana like you. Some of us are not so selfish.‖ ―You‘re no longer my minister. I can speak as freely as I wish.‖ The reverend remained silent, calculating. ―Then why don‘t you,‖ he said. ―Instead of playing shussly games, speak freely, Daniel Schrock. Go ahead. I‘m listening. You got my full attention.‖ ―I know about you, what you did. It‘s no mystery anymore.‖ Reverend Yoder stirred, his cheeks puffed out above his straggly white beard. Daniel went on speaking, holding himself steady. His fists clenched and unclenched as he formed each word, words that had been fermenting inside his mind for many months. ―You threatened Aiden Cermak, leaving him those horrible messages, spray painted his door with threats, threw a pumpkin at his home.‖ Reverend Yoder chuckled. ―I did no such thing. How absurd. And why would I do that?‖ ―To keep him from revealing the truth.‖ ―There you go with that truth again. Seems to me you have as much to hide as me. Perhaps you‘re the one who threatened Aiden Cermak. I know about your secrets too, Daniel Schrock.‖ The reverend‘s words stilled Daniel. He floundered over the snow, as if he had been struck against the forehead with a wood plank. The sound of the snow settling filled the gap of silence. They eyed each other. Reverend Yoder‘s chapped lips puckered, ready to spew Daniel with words. Daniel regrouped his thoughts, determined to be the first to strike and carry the altercation to its finality. ―We both know you walked in on me and Kyle.‖ Daniel nodded toward the barn where Kyle Yoder‘s body had hanged from the highest rafter. ―After you saw us, you and Kyle had an altercation, and something horrible happened, didn‘t it, Reverend?‖ Steam shot from between Reverend Yoder‘s clenched teeth. ―What kind of thoughts rankle that head of yours, you and that Englisher? You‘re living like bandits out in the woods with nothing but your fantasies. I feel sorry for you.‖ ―It‘s true what I said, admit it.‖ 181

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―I admit what you did with Kyle made the eyes of God burn with anguish. I never been so shocked. But that‘s all there is to admit.‖ Daniel chewed his lower lip. Angered by the reverend‘s tactics, he would not allow him to spoil his long-dreamed-of confrontation. Even his piercing blues failed to sway Daniel. ―You killed your son,‖ he blurted. ―You struck him on the head and he died. Then you hung him up, hung him up like he was nothing but deer kill, to make his death look like a suicide.‖ ―How do you get so impertinent?‖ the reverend said. ―Such vile accusations you utter, and while you trespass on my property.‖ Resisting the urge to back off, run and hide, Daniel shot back. ―I know why you never called me out before any of the gmays after all these years, Reverend. I know you were only looking to protect yourself from your crime.‖ ―Yes, I‘ll admit it was to protect myself,‖ the reverend spat. ―But not for the vile actions you accuse me of. I would never fend off one sin with another out of spite. Especially not against my own son. I kept my mouth sealed all these years to protect the reputation of my family. And yes, I‘ll admit, to protect my own. I would not have our name sullied merely because of your sins. Even God must stand by my silence. No one in my family deserves such punishment. We‘re not the ones who transgressed against da Hah. That sin is for you to face.‖ ―I don‘t believe you. We have too much evidence against you.‖ A semi-trailer careened down the nearby lane, its engine brake grinding. Once the jarring noise receded, Reverend Yoder raised his head and peered at Daniel. ―I battled to put God back into him,‖ he said. ―I prayed with him hours each day after I saw the two of you. We‘d get on our knees and beg God to forgive him, forgive us both. I thought I reached him. But then….‖ Reverend Yoder dropped his head, his hoary beard dangling past his pants flap. ―Then I… I found him hanging in the barn.‖ He shot blue fire at Daniel. ―It‘s what you did to him. You corrupted him; you led him astray.‖ Shame burned Daniel‘s cheeks. For many years he had blamed himself for Kyle‘s death. Whether he had killed himself or had been murdered, none of it had made a difference to Daniel. But Aiden had 182

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convinced him he should no longer hold himself responsible. A new surge of fault scored into him. He wrestled against the old remorse. He would not allow the reverend to win. Boldness overtook him. ―What we did, Kyle and me, it wasn‘t so vile,‖ Daniel said. ―It‘s not so uncommon, not even here in Henry, in Amish Country. What was it you really feared when you spied your own son kissing another man, Cousin Amos? Did seeing us together make you feel things you wished you hadn‘t? Did you see something of yourself in us?‖ A strange, wry smile curled Reverend Yoder‘s lips. ―Go back to Montana, Schrock,‖ he said. ―Go back and hide in the mountains. Go live with your bears and buffalo.‖ He turned his back on Daniel and strolled back inside the barn. Like that, the confrontation ended. Standing alone in the driveway, Daniel suddenly felt exposed. He‘d had his say. Now no reason remained for him to stand on that alien land belonging to Reverend Yoder. He turned to leave, trudging down the lane. Not until he was halfway home did he realize he was still trembling. He had actually confronted Reverend Yoder, dug up every sordid detail buried for nearly ten years, and had tossed it in his face like a fistful of dirt. Yet satisfaction eluded him.

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Chapter Twenty-Two

HE WAS unsure how long he‘d been asleep when he opened his eyes to the dull eggshell ceiling. An itchy haze wrapped around his head. Chill nipped at him. Scant heat flowed through the floor vents from the kitchen. Probably the first time in weeks the ovens had gone cold. His head ached. Was it the same day? Outside, the sun still struggled to burn through the slate-gray clouds. Another snowfall would come at any time. Groggy, he glanced at the alarm clock atop the night table. Almost two o‘clock. He had slept a good hour. He caught sight of his reflection in the clock‘s glass face. He touched his beard. Still Amish looking. He sat up, scratching his head. What had happened earlier that morning? Something unpleasant, surreal almost. Jagged claws clamped onto his brain. Elisabeth‘s confession. After all this time, she‘d explained why she had never courted. Why she had never married. She had been blunt. A visiting minister had raped her. Violated her while she had chored in the barn. Although she had seemed content, happy even—God‘s will, she‘d said—her confession had hollowed Daniel. As he struggled to accept her words, to look on the bright side, that he and Elisabeth had shared a moment of closeness and she‘d made the most of her ordeal, another recollection from earlier that day awoke inside him. His confrontation with Reverend Yoder. The reverend‘s defenses had come across too frankly. Daniel had seen the honesty in his horribly piercing blue eyes. 184

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Reverend Yoder had been telling the truth. He had not killed his son and staged his death to look like a suicide. Reluctantly, Daniel admitted that he and Aiden had been wrong about the reverend the whole time. Even worse, Kyle had committed suicide. And because of one little kiss shared between two close friends who sought to become closer. Perhaps Daniel should blame himself for Kyle‘s death, after all. He pulled the quilt over his chest, as if to conceal his sins from the world. Had his confrontation with Reverend Yoder sealed his fate? Or would the reverend go on, the way he had for nearly ten years, pretending nothing had ever happened? Concerned with his and his family‘s reputations? As he watched the sky churn with gray clouds, he wondered if everything had all unfolded the way it had for any good reason. But a far larger worry grated on his mind. If Kyle had committed suicide, then who had threatened Aiden last autumn? And what for? He withdrew the portrait Elisabeth had drawn of him and Aiden from his pants pocket. She had captured Aiden flawlessly—the curly hair, the curve of his lips, like rose petals. But she had drawn Daniel full of joy. Lately, he hadn‘t viewed himself so cheerfully. Should he call Aiden again? Any incentive drained from his fingertips. Aiden would refuse to answer, like all the other times. He had surrendered much of his world for Aiden Cermak. Now he was gone. He pictured Aiden at Mark and Heidi‘s wedding. So handsome in his olive suit. During the reception, when they‘d played slap-a-pig, watching him bent over the chair, Daniel had had to hold back a grunt of arousal. If not for his pacifist upbringing, he‘d have belted the man who had swatted Aiden‘s rear end. Heidi‘s burly cousin looked like he had enjoyed it too. Daniel had not wanted to believe he was jealous. But the stingers of jealousy had pierced him nonetheless. Many times he had wanted to embrace Aiden in front of everyone and flaunt him as his own. But how could he have? Too much was at risk to be so overconfident. Aiden had said he wanted to get married. Of course Daniel wanted to claim him. If Aiden wanted a wedding,

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Daniel had never really been that opposed to the notion, even if he did think it shussly. But there were other matters to consider. Aiden had even once mentioned how he would like to have children. Either by adoption or surrogacy. Seemed gay couples from all over the world were coming to the United States to take advantage of the lax surrogacy laws. Aiden was serious enough to have written an article about it for the quarterly magazine, Surrogate Family. Daniel had learned after reading Aiden‘s copy that California had been commercializing the practice for decades. Even some famous openly gay singer and his boyfriend Aiden had written about had their surrogate baby in California. Elton Something-or-other. The idea seemed absurd at the time. Now, staring at the portrait of him and Aiden, he smiled at the idea. For sure he would be happy with little kinner running about. Aiden would make a wunderbar goot father. He had such a kind and understanding disposition. Sighing, Daniel climbed out of bed and tucked the drawing in his suitcase. He grabbed for his cell phone from the night table and speed dialed the Amish mechanics. After ten rings, a man with a pleasant voice answered. He told Daniel the parts had arrived and that the truck would be ready by tomorrow morning. Daniel figured he could wait. After he clicked off the phone, he wondered what he would even need the truck for. Other than to tie up loose ends, he had no reason to rush back to Montana. Aiden was gone. Left him. No longer living at their cabin. Daniel supposed he could stay in Montana. Live like a hermit. His base needs for survival the only spur motivating him. Was that what God had intended the entire time? Were the clues laid before him? Aiden was mere bait to take him to his final place in the mountains, to live alone, isolated, separated from all other humans? Hunger pains kneaded his stomach. He smelled no cooking, but it was nearing time when his mother and Elisabeth would start on supper. Heeding his hunger spasms, he left his cell phone on the night table and made his way downstairs. Thank da Hah everyone was still out of the house. He would not want to face them, not now, not with the crazy emotions he carried around with him that he feared even baby Gretchen might read in his eyes. 186

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In the quiet of the downstairs, he saw down the hall the faint light of a lantern coming from the sitting room. Elisabeth must still be crocheting. He rummaged through the refrigerator and cupboards, deliberately clattering and banging, hoping she would hear him and offer to make him a plate. The shoebox full of his mother‘s labels that Kevin had printed for her sat on the counter. She would use the labels for her baked and canned goods. He was glad business had picked up. One less worry for her. After a few minutes fiddling about and finding nothing to eat— and realizing Elisabeth must be too focused on her crocheting to check the commotion in the kitchen—he wandered back upstairs. Loneliness settled over him like a fog. He wanted to roll to his side on the bed and snooze again, but the Amish in him still struggled to forgive him for having napped in the middle of the afternoon in the first place. A glimpse of Aiden‘s laptop case that he‘d left behind when he‘d packed in such a haste beckoned him. Longing clawed at his chest. Was that all that was left of Aiden Cermak? Trancelike, he looked through the case that seemed to hold onto Aiden‘s scent. Finding his digital camera, he sat down on the edge of the bed and clicked it on with a light ding, like the yap of a newborn lamb. After several trials, he found the photo files. He began looking through the hundreds—maybe even thousands—of stored pictures. His heart leaped into his throat. A picture of him and Aiden the first day they‘d run into each other at Glacier National Park in June. Daniel had had a clean-shaven face, and his hair had been near completely cropped, like a Marine‘s. Shellshock shimmered in their eyes. So much disbelief streaking their faces. The uncertainty in Daniel‘s expression, but also the excitement, the utter comfort of having seen Aiden again. He hadn‘t remembered ever experiencing such exhilaration. Even the rustle of the bashful cottontail had made him laugh out loud in a way he rarely had. He skipped along the scenic pictures, pictures Aiden had taken of people and places for his freelance articles. He paused at the pictures of their cabin the first day they‘d moved in. He missed the cabin already. Had Aiden really abandoned it? 187

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There were even more pictures of them from their numerous hikes into Glacier. And the more recent photos of the both of them in the Swan Range. Their cheeks pressed together as they stood on an overlook with the Flathead Valley in the background. Aiden‘s shussly snowman he‘d been astonished to build out of August snow. The two of them squatting by their tent, Aiden‘s arm outstretched as he took the photo, their faces creasing with smiles. Almost the exact way Elisabeth had sketched them. Aiden holding up a fish fry, no larger than an elm leaf, but he had never been prouder of his catch out of Black Lake using their makeshift rods. And Aiden‘s eyes. He never tired of looking into those golden eyes. Clutching the camera, which had captured a large chunk of their lives together, he had an urge to share the photos with someone. He yearned to reveal how much he loved Aiden Cermak. Next he came to a photo that wiped the grin clear from his face. The spray-painted threat on Aiden‘s door of the old bungalow he‘d rented when he‘d lived in Henry. And the picture of the splatter from the pumpkin someone had smashed against the front of the house. He was surprised Aiden still kept them saved on his camera. He‘d assumed Reverend Yoder had made those threats. Now, after his confrontation with him, he was sure he hadn‘t. Maybe some angry local who despised homosexuals had been responsible. Was that what the threats had been about? Had they never had a connection to Kyle‘s death? Hopeless, he replaced Aiden‘s camera in the front compartment of his laptop case. He was about to withdraw his hand when something inside caught his attention. An envelope. He pulled it out and turned it over in his hands. Mark‘s letter, inviting them both to the wedding. Aiden had saved the letter since August and had brought it along with him to Illinois. But what for? Some kind of an affirmation as to why they were there, like a horse hitched to the shaft? Aiden‘s head always ruminated with romantic, idealistic notions, Daniel mused, missing him more and more each minute. He took the letter out of the envelope and, nearly brushing the thin paper against his beard, reread it for the first time since he‘d 188

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retrieved it from the mailbox at the bottom of the gravel lane back in Montana. Laying the letter in his lap, he shook his head. Aiden had probably wanted to save the letter for a keepsake. Yet Mark‘s letter symbolized the entire demise of their relationship. A letter calling them back to Illinois, to celebrate the union of a man and woman, while his union had fallen in a heap to the ground like a broken bale of hay. A letter had brought everything about. A harmless letter from one brother to another. A simple invitation to a wedding. Had Mark sent the invitation knowing he and Aiden had been living together? He was about to shove it back into the case when a second bifolded piece of paper, pushed farther toward the bottom, grabbed his eye. Another letter Aiden had saved? Who was this one from? When he unfolded the crisp white note, written on the stationery of the Harvest Sunrise Inn Bed and Breakfast, he nearly fell backward and off the bed. In large block lettering in red ink, it read: I TOLD YOU ONCE, WON‘T TELL YOU AGAIN – GET OUT OF TOWN!

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Chapter Twenty-Three

INCREDULITY raced along Daniel‘s spine and down his arm, shaking the note in his hand like the leaves of a sycamore tree in a furious breeze. He strived to compose his thoughts so that he might understand. To comprehend the events that had at some point unraveled right under his nose while he‘d aimed desperately to spare Aiden from harm. No wonder Aiden had fled town like a raven frightened from a field. Who could blame him? He had had enough. Of course Aiden wouldn‘t have bothered telling Daniel about the note. Daniel had not provided Aiden with a single reason to seek his confidence. He had shown him almost no compassion. Pushing him away their entire stay in Henry. The rancid note had been the last straw. If only he could hold and comfort Aiden. Forcing himself to gaze at the note again, he wondered when Aiden had received it, and from whom. Had someone staying at the inn left it for him to find? Tormented with despair, he finally let the note jitter loose from his broad fingertips. It lay by his boots like a dead bird, struck down in flight. Like his and Aiden‘s relationship. But something about the note ate at him more than its implications. Looking down, he tilted his head and screwed up his eyes to read the note horizontally from the askew position against his boot. Something about the handwriting. He brought the note closer to his eyes. The lettering was near perfect. Angular block letters, all of them

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in capitals. Few people he knew wrote like that. Where had he seen handwriting like that before? Someplace recent. He rustled through Aiden‘s laptop case and clasped the digital camera. Skimming the photos again, he came to the frightening message spray painted on Aiden‘s door. He compared the photograph with the note. They were written with the identical block lettering, he was certain. Was it possible the same person had wanted to finish what he had started more than a year before? Dropping the camera onto the bed, he raced downstairs. Where was it? On the counter. The shoebox with his mother‘s labels. He grabbed it up and ran back upstairs. He compared the handwriting on the shoebox with the note from the inn and the spray painted threat. Identical. At least they appeared to be. If only he had the threatening letter Aiden had received in his mailbox last year to make extra sure. Prickling fear inched its way through Daniel‘s entire body. He stiffened. Collecting his thoughts, he jumped from the bed and realized what he had to do. ―Daniel—‖ Elisabeth‘s voice trailed after Daniel as he sped past her for the front door. He stopped right before stepping outside, his jacket clenched in hand. Their eyes locked onto each other. ―Where are you going in such a hurry?‖ she asked him. He could no longer lie to her. He wanted suddenly to tell her everything, to declare his love for Aiden. Shout loudly enough that the neighbors—even the ministers—would hear. Time for the falsehoods to stop. Elisabeth continued to look at him, her eyes wide, almost frightened looking, yet the softness of her mouth encouraged him on. ―I‘m going to find Aiden Cermak,‖ he said, unblinking. ―Then go,‖ Elisabeth said after a pause. ―Go find him.‖ He waited, wanting to say more. Needing to say more. To clarify any confusion or ambiguity about what he had meant. ―We… we‘re more than friends.‖ He looked at her straightly. ―We… we been living

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together in Montana. I… I can‘t live without him. He‘s my world now. He‘s everything to me. Everything I got.‖ Elisabeth‘s blue eyes gaped so wide he feared he might fall into them. For a moment, Daniel believed he and Aiden had misjudged her—like they had Reverend Yoder—that she had been ignorant about the depth of their relationship. She had drawn their portrait as one would any two friends. Nothing more. She was shaken and disgusted to hear such a confession from her brother. Then he saw her gaze fall over his right shoulder. He spun to look. Standing under the doorframe, his hat trembling in his hands, was his father.

DANIEL turned back to face Elisabeth. The alarm in her eyes verified what he‘d suspected. Their father had overheard everything. Staring back at his father, knowing he had walked in on him in the same way Reverend Yoder had when he and Kyle had been kissing in the barn all those years ago, he shook in his boots. The return of the same nightmare. Yet the terrible memory dashed through his mind like a magpie whooshing over the snow-blanketed farmland. The horror failed to well up inside him the way he had expected. Alarm at seeing his father softened. A buoyant gladness found its way inside his chest and tightened his throat as the sensation worked its way to his head, filling him with a breath of delight he hadn‘t experienced since running across Aiden in Glacier National Park so unexpectedly back in June. What struck him was the relief that massaged him—and how little his father‘s dismayed expression bothered him. With everything out in the open, he no longer agonized over the family discovering his secret. Indecisions evaporated out of the door and into the snowy sky. Uncertainties and fears disappeared. He wanted to be with Aiden Cermak, and no one could stop him. Not the ministers, not his father. Not his own reservations.

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Wordless, he raced past Samuel, nearly pushing him into the doorframe, leaving behind the trademark wide-brimmed hat on the wall peg. Snow had begun to fall, and the tickling flakes on his nose annoyed him. He was about to rush into the barn for Gertrude when he discovered her already hitched to a buggy in the driveway. David was in the process of undoing her trace. Daniel stopped him. David backed away, bewilderment etched on his face. Daniel rebuckled the trace in a fury. In his peripheral gaze, Elisabeth stepped onto the porch, wearing what looked like a subtle grin. Samuel wobbled behind her, raking fingers down his scraggly, gray beard. David strolled closer to him. ―Daniel….‖ Impatient, Daniel barked, ―What?‖ He stared at Daniel a moment, his mouth opened slightly, as if his words fought to part with his lips. ―Are you… are you going to find Aiden?‖ Daniel inhaled. Had young David pieced together everything? Or perhaps he had overheard too. Yanking firmly on Gertrude‘s trace, Daniel looked long at David. Despite everything, he grinned. ―Go on,‖ he said, placing a hand on the boy‘s shoulder. ―Go on and help Elisabeth and Dad with the afternoon chores.‖

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Chapter Twenty-Four

HE HAD Gertrude at galloping speed, leaving the lane behind him in a plume of snow. Once on Henry‘s main street, he slowed her to a reasonable pace. Observant of the English traffic laws, he impatiently waited for each blaring red light to change to green before continuing. A few blocks from The Henry Blade, he parked Gertrude along the street, as close to the snow berm as possible. The village administrators frowned upon buggies parked along the street. They preferred the Amish to park their buggies in the slender side lots, out of the way of traffic, to prevent the horses from getting spooked. But Daniel paid no mind to that village ordinance. He hitched Gertrude to a parking meter and hurried down the sidewalk, empty of pedestrians. Tormenting fears wrestled with him. He remembered that dream he‘d had, the one in which the ferocious grizzly bear abducted Aiden. Was he jumping to conclusions? But the raking instincts scratched and scraped until the bloody images filled his head, and he was powerless to shake them loose. The race down the sidewalk was like an endless trudge through a narrow tunnel. He saw little, heard little, perceived little of the snow and slush under his boots. Only his apprehensions, churning like the belt on a threshing machine, propelled him. Relief stole his breath when he saw the bright fluorescent lights fill the window of the newspaper office. The hardworking newspaperman would be at work. He went to open the door, but to his surprise, it was locked. The cardboard Santa hanging from it seemed to mock him.

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He peered inside the window, craning his neck to see through the frosty glare. No one was visible. Someone must be inside, due to the icy buildup. Human breath had iced over the cold windowpane. He pulled on the door lever some more. It would not give. Breathless with determination, he banged on the door with his bare hands, leaving large-sized prints on the glass from the heat of his tight fists. ―Kevin Hassler, Kevin Hassler, you in there?‖ He pounded harder, craning his neck to get a better look inside. His heavy rapping dislodged the Santa from its adhesive, and it fell to the floor, sliding under a chair. He shouted louder, his neck stretching with each pronunciation of Kevin‘s name. Daniel‘s head reeled. Who and what was he dealing with? Despite the uncertainties, one thing was clear: Aiden, wherever he was, was scared and alone. And Kevin Hassler, who had said he‘d dropped Aiden off at Champaign‘s airport, was responsible. He was about to leave and head to Kevin‘s home outside of town when the middle-aged man‘s figure appeared through the blurry window. Kevin looked to be scurrying for his desk and reaching for a phone. He was on the verge of dialing when Daniel‘s face appearing in the window froze him. Daniel tore one of his hook-and-eyes off his shirt, elongated the fastener, and used it to pry open the lock. He flung open the door, nearly tearing the heavy chrome frame off its hinges. Kevin set down the receiver and edged toward the back room. Little doubt now. The lid on the shoebox, filled with the labels Kevin Hassler had printed for his mother, with the same handwriting as the threats, including the most recent from the Harvest Sunrise Inn. Kevin had been the one behind them all. Guilt stained his entire trembling face. ―Why did you do it? Why did you threaten Aiden?‖ Daniel whispered.

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From the start he detected Kevin had been drinking. Drinking heavily. Daniel smelled the bourbon everywhere. The stench hit him like a blast from a hose. He winced, pushed aside the irritation. Kevin stumbled. He pulled himself up by the printer stand and inched backward like a frightened hound. ―Stay… stay away from me,‖ he said. ―Why? Why?‖ Daniel pushed back a swivel chair and shoved aside the two desks as if they were made of plasterboard instead of sturdy medal. ―Why did you want to frighten Aiden?‖ ―Frighten? What do you mean?‖ Kevin‘s voice was high-pitched, his gray lips twitching. ―You know what I‘m talking about. Don‘t play games with me, Kevin Hassler.‖ ―What… what games?‖ His glasses teetered from his nose. He straightened them. Daniel wanted to knock them off his pale, treacherous face. ―I want to know. Why did you do it?‖ he said again. ―I… I haven‘t done anything.‖ ―That‘s a lie. I know you wrote those threatening messages. I know all about it. You can‘t lie to me. You probably even tossed that pumpkin at his house last year.‖ ―I told you, I don‘t know what you‘re talking about. Now keep back.‖ ―Do you know where he‘s run off to? Do you?‖ ―I already told you on the phone, I dropped him off at Willard Airport, I even helped him inside with his bags. I don‘t know where he flew to.‖ ―His bags? He only had one.‖ ―Well, you know what I mean. It‘s just an expression.‖ Like the snowmelt gathering at his boots, everything fell into place. Certainty no longer eluded him. The gnawing visions haunting his mind were real. It was far more horrific than what he had assumed. Kevin Hassler had done something to Aiden.

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―Have you put your dirty clutches on him, Kevin Hassler, have you?‖ Daniel kicked aside a wastebasket, spilling its contents, and stepped closer to Kevin, mere inches from his quivering face. ―I haven‘t done anything to him.‖ Kevin sniveled. ―Please, I didn‘t do anything.‖ ―Tell me where he is—now.‖ ―I don‘t know, I swear.‖ ―Your swears mean nothing to me.‖ The rage boiled up in Daniel, steaming the inside of his heavy jacket. He never recalled experiencing so much hatred, so much fury, toward one human. Daniel seized him by his shirt collar. Kevin‘s breath was sour and rancid with booze. Badly, he wanted to strike him. Kevin was a revolting man. He‘d never liked him, never trusted him. Now, he knew why. Yet years of being taught pacifism made doing what he yearned to do, what seemed to be welling from the pit of his stomach, impossible. He had never struck another human being in his life. His upbringing won. Daniel released Kevin‘s collar and eased off. Kevin slumped over the printer stand. Suddenly Kevin heaved out his stomach and sputtered daring words, as if Daniel‘s backing off was a victory for him. ―I know about all your secrets, Daniel Schrock,‖ he said, smirking up at him from his exaggerated stance. ―I know about you and Aiden. Wouldn‘t it be something if everyone else learned the truth, huh? How would you like that? I‘m a newspaperman. I can tell everyone anything I want. I can even fudge the truth some, how would you like that? How would you like it if I printed everything Aiden found during his investigation, but instead of pointing the finger at the Reverend Yoder, I indict you? I can do that, you know? I‘m a newspaper man. Watch how fast the community believes it. People believe anything they read. All they have to do is see it in print, and it‘s as good as God speaking to them. And when they find out you‘re a queer, they‘ll convict you without thinking twice. Your life will be over. You‘ll never see your family again.‖

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Daniel battled against using every ounce of his masculine strength to overtake the little man. His threats of blackmail meant nothing to Daniel. He despised him more than the devil. Holding back his fury, he dashed from the office and unhitched Gertrude, shouting for her to get moving even before he hopped in the buggy and grabbed for the reins. This time Daniel ignored the English traffic lights. He had Gertrude galloping off in such a hurry her forelegs nearly brushed her hip straps. Her shoes kicked up chunks of snow at the buggy‘s window. Instinctively, Daniel switched on the battery-operated windshield wipers. Despite being out most of the day with Samuel and the recent gallop into town, Gertrude raced down the snowy lanes like a champ, but when Daniel steered her down one lane, she hesitated. She was confused. She had never been down this part of the county before. ―Get, girl, get!‖ Daniel jerked the reins, near standing in the buggy. She seemed to sense her driver‘s urgency and pushed through the wall of cold. Thick shots of steam curled from her flailing nostrils. Daniel encouraged her faster. For an instant, he pictured Aiden dimly in his mind, standing like a statue with an arm raised, as if to wave goodbye. The vision was strange, but it raced by him as fast as the snow-covered trees and white picket fences of the farmhouses. He must call 911 to have the police arrest Kevin. Whatever had happened, whatever connection Kevin might have to Aiden‘s disappearance and the threats, the police would help find answers. And help find Aiden and put an end to the agony that had stalked them both for more than a year. He reached into his jacket. Switching the reins from hand to hand, he groped around inside the pockets. Frustrated, he shoved his hands into his pants pockets. Where was that boogered cell phone? In a flash, he visualized the phone sitting where he had last left it. On the night table, back in David‘s bedroom. Chastising himself for leaving it behind and for needing modern technology, he grabbed the reins with both hands and shouted Gertrude onward with more force in his voice. He squeezed the reins so tight his nails dug into his palms. 198

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They came to an impasse. The buggy skidded to the side, spewing a wave of snow and gravel. He jerked Gertrude to turn around. Kevin lived down one of these streets. But which one? They all looked alike. Tire tracks from buggies and a few English vehicles cut into the snow-covered lane. He was certain one of the tire tracks belonged to Kevin‘s sturdy Buick. They were fatter and deeper than the other two tracks. Few English lived in that part of the county. He urged Gertrude onward, keeping a sharp eye on the fat tire tracks he figured must belong to Kevin. He passed a slow-moving automobile, something he had never done before while driving a buggy. He worried for a moment he was following the wrong trail, but he realized the Honda Accord had tires almost as trim as a buggy‘s. Down another bend, another lane, panting, wheezing, snowpacked gravel spitting up from Gertrude‘s hooves and the buggy‘s wheels. Finally, Kevin‘s farmhouse lay ahead. He recognized the newspaperman‘s small green barn, the only barn he‘d ever seen painted such an absurd color. He steered Gertrude into the driveway. After setting the brake, he grabbed a woolen horse blanket from the back and draped it over the mare‘s lathered midsection, steaming from the strenuous gallop. A knot tightened his throat. He looked around for Kevin‘s Buick. Two separate tire tracks crisscrossed halfway up the driveway from cars pulling in and out. Both tracks he recognized from the lane coming off the main thoroughfare. The slimmer pair of tracks looked fresh. He ran his bare finger along the imprints. He was unsure, but he thought he could detect a slight whiff of unleaded gasoline. Glancing around, he suppressed disgust at the farm‘s decay. Even with the snow covering the small field, clearly no one had cultivated the land in many years. Tawny cocklebur and other weeds pushed through the snow. Kevin lived there merely to have space, space he didn‘t even use as God intended. Death permeated that fallow field. Something compelled him to step to the broken-down wooden fence and gaze over the snow-blanketed field. What was he looking for? Deer tracks crossed the snow. In the distance, a buck that had survived the hunting season fed on the cocklebur. The buck paused and looked up, peering at Daniel across the field. 199

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Shaken, Daniel jerked himself into action and jogged to Kevin‘s detached garage. Rattling open the overhead door, he was relieved to discover it unlocked and subsequently empty of any cars. After a careful scrutiny inside and finding nothing curious, he hurried to the small green barn. Snowdrifts pushed against the swing door. No one had opened the barn door in a day or two. Smooth human prints and elongated grooves indicated someone had been stomping by the door before the latest snowfall. He cleared a snow path with his boots and bare hands. Clenching his fists by his sides, he kicked open the door. He was even more disgusted than before. Like the neglected field, the dim barn was in total disarray, hardly used for any purpose. The smell of livestock had long faded. Only the fetid odor of decay remained. Hay piles rotted in a corner near the old stalls, most likely left from the previous owners before Kevin had bought the place ten years ago, after he‘d moved back to his hometown from Indianapolis. Allegedly to flee from big city corruption. Daniel kicked aside the old farming tools and decomposed oats oozing from equally decayed canvas sacks. A rabbit hutch lay in tatters in a heap of lumber. Rusty modern farming equipment in various states of disrepair was scattered across the battered ground. Snow fell from the tattered roof. Rustling in the rafters overhead spooked him. He looked up, his heart sputtering. Nothing but a flock of nesting ravens. He noticed a huge spider web in a corner of the loft glinting in the fading daylight. Egg sacs, heavy with larva, were waiting to release thousands of spiderlings in the spring. Dismayed by the rot, he squeezed his eyes to adjust to the dimming light. He knew searching for a usable light switch would be pointless. He had no idea what he was looking for. Clues? Anything to help him sort out what might‘ve happened to Aiden. His thoughts were as disorganized as inside the barn. He should probably find a way inside Kevin‘s house, at least use the phone to call the police. Kevin was likely close on his trail. The moment he was about to turn for the house, something from the fetid, loose pile of hay snatched his attention. He cocked his head and, yanking on his beard, edged closer. 200

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A strange color materialized from inside the pile, unlike what hay should look like, even in its most decomposed state. It was greenish, maybe blue, in color. A manmade color. Nothing God or nature would have created that would hide itself in a pile of rancid hay in the midst of winter. Dropping to his knees, he dug through the pile. Immediately he hit something hard and rounded. Grabbing onto it, he pulled it from the pile. Why should someone want to bury a new-looking snow shovel? A dried brownish stain near the blunt end perplexed him. He set the shovel aside and dug through more hay toward the strange green-blue color. Damp, smelly hay flew into the air like the stalks from a threshing machine. The ravens squawked overhead. Sweat flowed from his pores despite the cold. His breath came in shots of steam. He froze. He could hardly believe his eyes. No accounting for the horror wrenching up in his chest. Vomit near raced into his throat. His hands trembled unrecognizably, as if they were touching death itself. Slowly, he dragged from the pile of hay a duffel bag. A black duffel bag with an annoying turquoise stripe. Aiden‘s duffel bag.

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Chapter Twenty-Five

HIS instincts had been right. Kevin Hassler had not taken Aiden to the airport. The newspaperman had brought him to his home—against Aiden‘s will. He had done something horrible to him and had aimed to cover his tracks. Daniel stared at the duffel bag, as if he were gazing upon Aiden himself. He wanted to look inside, yet he hesitated. A horrible odor pushed him back, nearly onto his haunches. The odor was unmistakable. The stink of death. Decomposing flesh. He had smelled that stench many times, growing up on a farm. An overpowering rancid odor of the animals that had died overnight, or from one of the many deer in the area that lay struck on the side of the roads from Englishers‘ vehicles. Shaking, he began to unzip the bag, moving gradually should whatever he find inside destroy his world forever. The rotting carcass of a raven lay by his boot. It must‘ve fallen from a rafter into the hay pile months ago. He‘d uncovered it without knowing. Sighing with relief that that was what he had smelled, he kicked the raven‘s remains across the barn and attacked the duffel bag more confidently. Inside he found Aiden‘s clothes untouched. Shoved on the bottom, hidden under T-shirts and underwear, was his cell phone, the battery dead. He tossed the duffel bag aside and hurried for the house, his boots barely touching the snow-covered footpath to the front door. He did not bother to knock. In an instant, the door hung on its hinges. The pain in his right foot from having kicked in the door barely bothered him as he gazed about the small bungalow. The house looked as if no one had cleaned it in weeks. Dishes piled in the sink. Dirtied bowls sat on the counter and kitchen table. A smell of body odor was thick in the air. 202

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Faint light from the windows only distracted him, casting shadows and tricking him into thinking someone—or something—was there when there wasn‘t. He twisted about, unsure what to expect. His heart pounded in his chest. Dread left his mouth dry. He switched on the hallway light and edged his way upstairs. ―Aiden? Aiden Cermak? Are you here?‖ The doors to the three bedrooms upstairs gaped open. The master bedroom was unkempt, the bed unmade and dirtied clothes tossed about. A typical bachelor home. Closets were empty of anything peculiar. Underneath beds he found only dust and boxes full of junk. Aiden was nowhere. ―Aiden? Aiden?‖ Downstairs in the kitchen, he faced the door to the basement. Locked. He tired of locked doors. The door hinge was decayed, and he needed little effort to jimmy it open with his bare hands. The light switch failed to work. Click, click. Nothing. Using what light oozed from the kitchen, he eased down the stairs, his hand sliding along the railing, inching his way into the darkness. The room temperature dropped at least twenty degrees at the bottom of the stairs. He could see the silver of his breath. Narrowing his eyes to cut through the murkiness, he shuffled along the basement floor, careful to avoid the clutter. He peered around, looking for any sign to help him answer the nagging questions of Aiden‘s whereabouts. A heavy stench hovered over him. Mildew, grease, human sweat. Panic choked him. A rustle. A murmur. ―Aiden?‖ Daniel edged nearer a corner. He screwed up his eyes. Something pulsated there. Something emitting a slight warmth. He peered at the dark silhouette of what looked like the shape of a man. He pushed aside a few boxes, some old tools, a mop. Two small white orbs glared up at him. The whiteness belonged to a pair of eyes. Vacant, large, gaping eyes. Unblinking, death-like eyes. Golden eyes. Honey-brown eyes. Eyes the color of the sunset. 203

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Aiden Cermak‘s eyes. He dropped to his knees. ―Aiden, I found you, I found you.‖ Daniel threw himself on top of him, incapable of processing everything taking place. He went to gather Aiden into his arms but realized Aiden‘s arms and legs were bound with rope and tied to a pillar. ―Ach, Aiden. Aiden….‖ He stroked Aiden‘s curly hair, murmuring how much he had been afraid for him, and noticed the knot on his head, along with the caked blood. ―I‘m so sorry,‖ Daniel whispered, lying over Aiden‘s cold body, trying to provide him with warmth. ―I‘m so sorry this happened to you.‖ ―Is it you?‖ Aiden uttered, his voice breaking. ―Yes, yes, it‘s me.‖ ―I… I didn‘t think you‘d come.‖ ―I‘m here, I‘m here.‖ ―I was wrong,‖ Aiden murmured into Daniel‘s chest. ―It wasn‘t Reverend Yoder who killed Kyle.‖ ―I know, I know.‖ Daniel sniffed back tears. His trembling arms clamped around Aiden. He stripped off his jacket and draped it over Aiden‘s torso. ―It was Kevin,‖ Aiden muttered. ―I figured it out on the way to the airport, while he was driving me. I… I had told him about the threats but didn‘t give him any details. He knew about everything that happened. How would he know all that, unless… unless he‘d… he‘d done it? I… I could understand how he might know about the pumpkin, the spray painted message on my door, in a small town like this. But how would he know about the letter left in my mailbox? The one left at the inn? I mentioned it to him. He panicked. He drove me here against my will, and when I tried to fight back, he hit me with a shovel. It was Kevin. He killed Kyle. I… I was right about Kyle not committing suicide. I told you he didn‘t. Kevin killed him. I don‘t know why. But he killed him.‖

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Daniel caressed Aiden‘s cold cheeks. ―Now try to be still,‖ he whispered. ―I got to untie these ropes and get you upstairs where it‘s warm and call 911.‖ ―It was Kevin… Kevin the whole time,‖ Aiden went on dazedly while Daniel fumbled with the ropes in the dark. ―He was the one who threatened me, to get me to stop investigating. On the way to the airport, I figured everything out. All that he knew, all that stuff about the threats. There was no way unless he had been there. Unless he had been the one who had done it.‖ ―It‘s okay now. I‘m going to get you out of here. You‘re safe now. Nothing to worry about anymore.‖ Kevin had done a good job ensuring Aiden stayed put. Daniel struggled to untie the ropes. Fighting back raging curses, Daniel had to get Aiden out of the house before Kevin showed. Kevin would be close on his trail. They were not yet safe. He did not relay that likelihood to Aiden. ―I… I didn‘t think you would know where I was,‖ Aiden said. ―I thought I‘d die here. I did my best to get out, I really did. After a while, I gave up. I was so weak. I didn‘t think you‘d ever find me.‖ ―I didn‘t guess until I found that note in your laptop. Why didn‘t you tell me someone had left you another threat?‖ Daniel yanked on the knots. ―Why?‖ ―I thought you didn‘t care,‖ Aiden said, his head lopping to the side as Daniel sat him upright to untie his hands. ―I thought maybe you were glad I was gone.‖ ―I was glad you were gone, but not for why you think,‖ Daniel said. ―I admit I had fears about being outed to the community, of losing what I know here. But mostly I feared what might happen to you. Those threats you got last year, I was so afraid whoever made them might come back for you. That‘s the main reason why I didn‘t want to come back here for Mark‘s wedding. That‘s why I haven‘t wanted everyone to know about us. Don‘t you see? I was right all along too. I was right all along. Why didn‘t you listen to me? Why didn‘t you listen?‖ ―I thought you didn‘t want me to come to Henry because… because you were embarrassed by me. I thought you didn‘t love me.‖

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―I thought you didn‘t love me either,‖ Daniel said. ―I thought you left me for good.‖ He tossed the last of the ropes into a corner and clasped Aiden‘s shoulders. ―When I realized I mighta lost you forever, I didn‘t care about nothing. I didn‘t even care about being shunned. The only thing that matters is that I have you in my life.‖ ―You saved me,‖ Aiden said, his head wobbling from side to side. ―You saved me once too, remember?‖ Daniel hoisted Aiden into his arms to carry him upstairs. ―I figure I‘m returning the favor.‖ Just then, Aiden‘s eyes widened, and a strange sound emanated from his mouth, like a yelp from an injured kitten. He pointed a shaky finger over Daniel‘s shoulder. ―Behind you… behind you….‖ Daniel followed Aiden‘s gape. The woman from Kevin‘s office, Carolyn, edged toward them. Her face twisted in a greasy grin, the snow shovel he had found in the barn clasped in her hands. Daniel‘s mind whirled. Why was she there? What was going on? Carolyn crept closer, a hulking figure emerging from the murkiness. Her eyeglasses reflected the scant light in the basement, giving her the look of a fiery-eyed demon. Something shiny like snot ran out her nose and down her chin. After a lifetime of the community‘s stressing nonviolence, his reflexes lacked the quickness needed to attack. He could not bring himself to strike another human being. Especially a woman. Daniel almost resented his pacifist upbringing. He spilled Aiden from his arms and stood decisively, his legs and arms spread, protecting Aiden with his body. The shovel rose higher in the air. He was about to lunge for it when, suddenly, a stunted shadow shifted behind Carolyn. The shadow grew larger, hovered closer. It was Kevin Hassler. His face twisted with something like a pained fury. He held a golf club high over his head. They were both in on it. Ready to strike. Daniel threw himself on top of Aiden, shielding him from the first blows from these two mad, depraved people. Prayers for da Hah‘s mercy fluttered from his lips, beseeching God to forgive him for

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whatever sins he might have committed. Begging God to spare Aiden Cermak. The man he was willing to die for. He heard the first blow but felt nothing. Petrified, he examined Aiden to make sure he hadn‘t been struck. Twisting quickly, Daniel saw Carolyn falter, drop the shovel, and fall backward. Kevin stood behind her, the golf club loose in his hand by his side. Sobs broke from him as he dropped the club and sank to his knees by the woman‘s head. Daniel rushed to lift Aiden and carry him to the stairs. He stopped on the bottom step and peered at Kevin, weeping over the woman‘s body. A dark puddle formed by her head, where her eyeglasses lay. ―I fell in love with her,‖ Kevin said between sobs. ―I fell in love with her right after I hired her. She was all I ever wanted. Even after she told me everything she‘d done, I still loved her.‖ Daniel froze, transfixed by Kevin‘s mumbling. Aiden‘s head lay limp, his eyes closed. Daniel held him snug against his chest. He was near weightless in his arms. ―She didn‘t mean to do it,‖ Kevin said, cradling Carolyn‘s head. ―She‘d never been liked by many people. No one ever took the time to get to know her. They never gave her a chance. Her peers used to taunt her, laugh at her. She was so shy. Even though she was on the high school softball team, and took them all the way to the state championship, they‘d still tease her, even her teammates. She thought if she‘d befriend the Amish, things might be easier for her. She started hanging out with some rumspringa youth. They shunned her too. She was devastated. ―But one boy didn‘t turn her away. Kyle Yoder was the one who bothered to show her kindness. She started following him around. They even became friends, or so she had thought. One day he told her he never liked her and didn‘t want to be friends with her. That he never had the heart to tell her to go away. You see, Carolyn had dealt with rejection her whole life. She was always an outcast. Always tossed aside. ―To be rejected by an Amish boy…. It was too much for her. She pushed him in a moment of rage. Kyle fell and hit his head on the ground. He was dead. She panicked and covered him under some horse 207

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blankets in the tack room of the Yoders‘ barn. She came back later that night with a rope, when she knew the family would be done with farm chores, and hanged him up in the barn to make it look like a suicide. She was able to put everything behind her. Eventually, she got a scholarship to college. She had a future. And then Aiden had to come along last year and dig up Kyle‘s death, after so many years. ―She left him those threats, tossed a pumpkin at his house. She didn‘t mean any harm; she was desperate. What else could she do? When Aiden came back to town last week, she worried he was going to open up the investigation again. Panicked, she told me about everything. I tried to convince her Aiden was here for Mark‘s wedding, and he wasn‘t going to investigate anymore, but she didn‘t believe me. Her mind was already gone by then.‖ Moans rose from deep inside Kevin. ―I did what I could to cover up for her. But things got out of hand. I haven‘t slept since Christmas Eve. I thought I was losing my mind, too. I begged her to stay away from here, to run and hide. Get away. But she wouldn‘t listen. She didn‘t care. I couldn‘t let us do any more harm. I couldn‘t. We‘ve harmed too many. I‘ve already called 911. They should be here any minute. I knew it would be bad like this. I knew it would turn out horrible. We never stood a chance. They‘ll keep us apart from each other now. I‘m all alone in the world. All alone again. She was my last chance at love.‖ He looked at Daniel, who still stood on the steps in disbelief. ―You know what that‘s like, don‘t you?‖ Kevin said. ―To be alone, without anyone? To be without the one you love?‖ Daniel gazed at him through the dimness of the basement. He could hear the screams of sirens growing nearer. He wanted to say, ―Ya, I do. I do, for sure, I know,‖ but he let it be. Turning his back on Kevin and Carolyn, he carried Aiden upstairs into the light, into the warmth, certain he‘d never let go of him again.

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Chapter Twenty-Six

THE snowcapped Swan Range rippled northward for one hundred miles, from the Bob Marshall Wilderness to the Flathead River. Verdant mountains and hemlocks and cottonwoods reflected in the radiant onyx ponds that dotted the lush valleys. Small snowfields glistened like diamonds under the early June sun. In Jewel Basin, two large herds of Rocky Mountain sheep had come down from the higher elevations and were nibbling on rich lichen closer to the hiking trails that had gone dormant for most of the winter and spring. Fresh footprints of recent backpackers were visible along the trails. Two pair belonged to Daniel and Aiden. They had just covered eighteen miles from the trailhead on their way to Black Lake, where they would set up camp for the next three days, and were headed down the last of their switchbacks into the Basin. They had been unable to wait to hit the trail once the daytime temperatures in the higher elevations had reached the mid-sixties. ―Look at the lambs,‖ Aiden said, gazing around with his typical schoolboy enthusiasm. He marveled at the fledglings, keeping close to their mothers‘ sides. A few were suckling while the ewes grazed. The mountain sheep seemed disinterested in the two backpackers. Aiden and Daniel passed through the herds like Moses parting the Red Sea. They left the sheep behind and hiked through a thick grove. Cordons of sunlight dangled from the branches of the towering trees and sparkled against the cottonwood seeds that drifted in the air. Daniel, carrying store-bought fishing poles that stuck out from his overstuffed backpack like antennae, thought it all looked much like a

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dream. After more than a week of courtroom appearances, he was happy to be back in Montana, the horror and stress left behind. They had waited most of the winter and spring on pins and needles to get word of the trial dates while Carolyn Bates waited in prison without bail. Kevin Hassler had been released on a five-hundredthousand-dollar bond. Four months of discovery, motions, and cancellations later, Frederick County‘s prosecutors finally notified them in late April. The two trials in the county seat of Overton had lasted nine days combined. Daniel had thought they would never end. They had tried Kevin and Carolyn separately, with a four-day break in between. Aiden held himself firm on the stand for each trial, showcasing his trademark honesty. With his golden eyes, he expressed sympathy for the two people who had harmed him. Aiden had more of the legendary forgiving Amish in him than most Amish Daniel knew. Daniel had learned to expect nothing less from him. Carolyn appeared recovered from her head injury. She was clearly repentant for her acknowledged crimes but also, somewhere deep in her mind, disturbed. Although she had lost weight while in prison and her hair had been styled to look more fashionable and she wore business attire, in some ways her refined appearance accentuated her emotional disturbance. Dull, opaque eyes and slumped shoulders never lied. After six days of testimony, the jury only needed two hours to find her guilty on each of the handful of charges the prosecutors had brought against her—second-degree murder, tampering with a crime scene, conspiracy. Too many for Daniel to remember. Fifty-two-year sentence with chance for parole in seventeen years. Kevin, whose trial lasted three days, received a harsher hand for the kidnapping. Sixtyseven years with possible parole in twenty-five years. He‘d be in his eighties by the time he saw his freedom again. During the newspaperman‘s trial, he looked anguished, beaten. A man lost. Even Daniel felt a pang of empathy for him. They had worn similar shoes, almost. He understood the torment of nearly losing someone he loved. He did hope that Kevin, while in prison, would be able to piece together his life somehow. To find peace within himself.

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Perhaps establish a stronger bond with his two daughters, who had traveled from nearby states to stand by him during his trial. Daniel had learned Kevin had sold The Henry Blade while he had been out on bail. A small group of Amish women had bought the newspaper on behalf of the community. They needed news, after all, they had said. Whether anything would amount from it, Daniel had no idea. Nor did he care. The community, at the decree of the ministers, kept its distance from Aiden and Daniel during the two weeks they were in Frederick County for the trials. They stayed at a local Overton motel—only this time, to Aiden‘s subtle delight, Daniel had reserved a room with one queen bed. Few back in Henry fully understood the details of Kyle‘s murder or Aiden‘s kidnapping. Facts of Daniel and Aiden‘s relationship were irrelevant to the prosecution and defense. Daniel never knew just how much everyone grasped. Reverend Yoder attended Carolyn‘s trial while the prosecution presented its case in the death of Kyle. He sat rigid, firm, his face unmoving for three days. He never once made eye contact or spoke to either Aiden or Daniel. Joe Karpin had driven him to the trial each of the three days he attended. The venerable old driver sat in the back and watched, fascinated, how the proceedings unfolded. Last Friday, two weeks after they‘d returned to Montana, Daniel was surprised to find a letter postmarked from the reverend in their mailbox. He had written his appreciation that they had helped uncover his son‘s killer. No other thoughts were expressed. A short oneparagraph, three-sentence, handwritten note. Aiden had been touched by his consideration. Daniel, shrugging outwardly, had inwardly embraced the letter as more closure to the lengthy, grating ordeal that seemed to have begun when the reverend had first spied Daniel and Kyle kissing in the barn ten years before. True, the community had been ordered to shun him. No more contact with anyone—family, friends, associates. Yet in many ways, Daniel had shunned them. Once the commotion of Kevin and Carolyn‘s arrests in December had settled, Daniel had confronted Bishop Hershberger at his home and told him he was leaving the church, heading back to 211

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Montana. The bishop told him without pretense that, because Daniel had been baptized, he would request the shunning. Daniel nodded solemnly, understanding the full weight of the repercussions of his actions. Tugging on his moustacheless beard, he gazed at Aiden as he hiked alongside him. Yes, the Englisher worried him to distraction, but that was only because of the devotion that clutched his heart. Black Lake loomed in the distance, through a swath of earlyblooming purple Pasque flowers. They stopped a moment to gaze at the shimmering beauty of the lake and the surrounding valley. ―Just like last year,‖ Aiden said, grinning. ―Nature always has a funny way of staying the same, no matter what. Like it remains a certain way just for us.‖ Daniel nodded. Nature, far more dependable than humans, did indeed seem to reach out to them. Nature had rules and etiquettes one had to abide by to survive, yet it opened its borders to anyone. Everyone was welcome, so long as they understood its Ordnung— come at your own risk. That was not the case with human society. Rules were meant, in many ways, to keep certain people out. Nonconformists like him and Aiden discovered few places that would welcome them. But even that no longer bothered Daniel. For sure, the bittersweet loss of his family stung Daniel. But even that connection failed to be completely severed by Bishop Hershberger and the ministers. Elisabeth wrote him letters often. He had never officially ―come out‖ to his family other than Elisabeth—and inadvertently to his father. More and more he was certain Aiden was right. Mark knew about their relationship. How much the others understood, he had no idea. They must have realized something was different, especially since the ministers had officially enacted the shunning. Elisabeth never wrote about his being gay, although in each of her letters she asked about Aiden, concerned for his well-being like any ―sister-in-law‖ would be. Daniel doubted any of them discussed his ―secrets‖ with each other. Elisabeth kept him abreast of all the details of life in Henry, making up for his mother‘s silence. Through her correspondence, he was able to keep aware of everyone‘s doings, as if he were still a part 212

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of their lives. The fast-growing Gretchen kept everyone busy. Dad spent more time in the barn. When spring approached, David, Moriah, Grace, and the boy she was courting all helped out on the farm as best they could. Mark sometimes took time away from his small crop of soybeans to help with the oats. His efforts at woodworking had dwindled since his job at the English wood beam manufacturer required he work full-time. Mark and Heidi adored the small parcel of land Daniel had deeded to them. Back in Illinois for the trial, Daniel was able to drive by and glimpse the barn and two-story home the community had helped build for the newlyweds. Despite the ministers‘ decree, he and Mark had stolen three brief moments together before he returned to Montana. Certain bonds a half millennium of tradition could never break. The community had always tucked away an implicit knowledge that, during a shunning, devoted friends and family members would find ways of reaching out to the ostracized. Elisabeth‘s letter in February, informing him of Leah‘s death, had come unexpectedly. The news had smarted more than he had imagined whenever he‘d thought about how he‘d handle the inevitable. Between Aiden‘s sobs and his own, expressed concealed while in the shower, he thought the sorrow might never leave them. His tears had come so readily, as if the ducts in his eyes had been waiting for the news. It had hurt that he could not attend the services. No way could the community welcome him into a church gathering headed by the ministers, not after the official shunning. He wished he could have comforted his family. He remembered the last time he had seen little Leah sitting in her wheelchair, a broad, shaky smile on her pink face. He and Aiden had visited her grave while in Illinois for the trial, but only fleetingly. Leah had died on the same day in February as his son Zachariah‘s birth. But a new Schrock was soon on the way. Elisabeth had often expressed in her letters how everyone had been waiting for the news. God had finally graced the newlyweds. Heidi was with child, Elisabeth had written. Another August baby. Daniel would be an uncle—as would Aiden. Mark would see to it that they somehow kept a connection, he was certain.

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The day his father had overheard him confess his love for Aiden to Elisabeth, Daniel‘s life had transformed, yet some things stood steadfast and changeless. He still lived semi-subsistent, he still practiced age-old traditions that could hardly be lanced from his soul after a lifetime of devout adherence. He still crafted wood furniture. Daniel received lingering orders from his uncle (Uncle Eldridge had lost income due to Daniel‘s shunning, income he wasn‘t so quick to let go). Daniel also had his own website that Aiden had helped design. Dozens of monthly e-mail orders from around the world popped into his inbox for his handcrafted work. The last time he had seen his father, they had spotted each other across the oat field when Daniel had dropped off Elisabeth in his rental car. (She had been one of the witnesses to testify regarding Carolyn Bates‘s relationship with Kyle.) The golden oat field might as well have been a massive schism in the earth, as endless as the mountain range that stretched before Aiden and Daniel. Within an hour, they found their campsite near the shores of Black Lake. They set up their two-man tent, collected wood for a fire, hoisted their backpacks on sturdy urethane ropes. A small-sized black bear, probably two years old, snooped around the trail heading to the lake, but he ran off like he was on fire when he spotted them hiking along with strange, lengthy sticks. They fished until the sun rested on the largest of the western Swan peaks like a star atop a Christmas tree. With five cutthroat trout, they had enough for an ample supper, along with the dehydrated chili they had brought along. Their elongated shadows followed them back to camp. Everything cleaned and stowed and out of the reach of hungry animals, they sat by the blazing fire for the evening, their stomachs full and satisfied. Daniel wrapped his arm around Aiden‘s shoulders. ―We‘re living in paradise,‖ Aiden said, his golden eyes even more aflame from the reflection of the fire. Daniel leaned in and kissed Aiden‘s fire-warmed cheek. So easy to show him love out in the woods. Daniel still withheld overt affection whenever they were around people in certain public places. Aiden‘s silence on the matter seemed to indicate he understood. Daniel had only 214

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wanted to keep Aiden safe. Away from the possibilities. Heart-stopping possibilities he‘d rather no longer consider. Aiden had recovered fully from his kidnapping ordeal. Only a small bump still lingered on the crown of his head where Kevin had struck him with the snow shovel. When Daniel would rub or kiss his curly black hair, he‘d sometimes feel it. Emotionally, almost no visible scars remained. Aiden‘s mental strength had always awe-struck Daniel. Victimhood, a word nowhere in Aiden‘s vocabulary. To Daniel, Scripture affirmed his and Aiden‘s relationship. He had thought so while listening to Bishop Hershberger preside over Mark and Heidi‘s wedding ceremony in December. ―…ye be likeminded, having the same love, being of one accord, of one mind.‖ He had imagined him and Aiden kneeling before the bishop in Mark and Heidi‘s place. They had wed, too, that day, at least symbolically. ―…The twain shall be one flesh….‖ One day, perhaps Daniel would make good on his pledge to marry Aiden the way Aiden had always dreamed. Perhaps they‘d hold a ceremony back in Illinois, or in Iowa, surrounded by cornfields. Or maybe, one day when Montana legalized gay unions, they could take their vows in Glacier National Park, at the same spot where he and Aiden had run into each other by chance two years ago. State validation meant little to Daniel. He needed no decree, no piece of paper stamped by a bureaucrat to enforce his intentions toward Aiden Cermak. He‘d carry out the promise he had made to Aiden last summer and that night after they had first made love in Glacier National Park. As the moon rose the eastern peaks and brought out murky shadows, Aiden and Daniel doused the flames and headed inside the tent. Snug inside their zipped-together sleeping bags, they clung to each other. So much had happened in the past two years. So much drama had eclipsed their lives. Just to lie still in each other‘s arms, secure in a tent pitched in the middle of the Montana backcountry…. Daniel cringed, thinking how close both had come to never seeing each other again. Aiden seemed to have detected his slight spasm. ―What‘s wrong?‖ he asked, nudging in closer.

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In the moonlight that filtered inside the tent, Daniel smiled and kissed Aiden on the nose. His gesture was enough to appease Aiden. The plucky Englisher hunkered down, rested his head on Daniel‘s chest. Love surged through Daniel‘s body as Aiden‘s breathing slowed, and Daniel sensed he had succumbed to a restful, and much needed, slumber.

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About the Author

SHELTER SOMERSET enjoys writing about the lives of people who live off the land, whether they be the Amish, nineteenth-century pioneers, or modern-day idealists seeking to live apart from the crowd. Shelter‘s fascination with the rustic, aesthetic lifestyle began as a child with family camping trips into the Blue Ridge Mountains. When not back home in Illinois writing, Shelter continues to explore America‘s expansive backcountry and rural communities. Shelter‘s philosophy is best summed up by the actor John Wayne: ―Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway.‖

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