Between Two Promises (4 page)

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 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.”

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, point-blank, 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?”

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.

Chapter Three

T
HE
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 pine-needle-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 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.

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 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.