The terror that his brother would die before Isaac could see him again had driven him here as though he were a horse kicked by a merciless rider. Now, standing in the slushy parking lot of the hospital under a gray slate sky, Isaac felt just as far away as he had in San Francisco. He probably needed some kind of transplant. Mother and Father refused to come on the line, and she could only tell them so much. They’d been so desperate to get to Minnesota after the nurse had called. “I guess we should go inside.” Aaron stared at the doors with hunched shoulders. The nurse exhaled a cloud of smoke and rubbed her arms. She lit a cigarette as she walked away from the door, joining a man in a wheelchair with a metal pole holding a plastic bag towering over him. The glass doors of the emergency room split open as a nurse in blue scrubs came out. They stood by the car, their breath clouding the damp, wintry air, and stared at the gray and beige concrete block that was the hospital. If he asked Aaron to go back to June’s now so he could change, the nurses might not even let him see Nathan by the time they returned. Driving from Minneapolis to June’s farm near Zebulon had taken longer than he’d expected, and it would be dark soon. Isaac tugged at his sleeves and scuffed his rubber toe across the wet concrete. But what was he really saying? Was it brave to spit in his parents’ faces and turn his back on his heritage? Or cruel? Mother and Father would hate to see him like this, but he’d wanted to…what? Make a statement, he supposed. Maybe he should have changed into his Amish clothes after all. His green raincoat was thin, and he shivered, wishing he had gloves. Isaac wasn’t wearing Amish clothes either, and he realized it would be the first time his parents would see him in English jeans and a hoodie.
The truth was that Aaron could be wearing his fanciest suit, but the only way to please their parents was if he donned plain clothes again-clothes that followed the rules of the Ordnung down to the very last detail. “Thanks.” He pushed back a lock of blond hair that had crept over his forehead, and pressed a button to lock the doors on the sedan he’d rented at the airport. It was a nice raincoat-the color of red wine, fitted with buttons on the front-but they both knew it didn’t matter.Īaron tried to smile. Aaron stopped and smoothed a hand down his jacket. It was the end of April, but the vestiges of winter still clung to northern Minnesota, and melting snowbanks dotted the hospital parking lot. Valor on the Move (Italian Translation)Īs Isaac glanced at Aaron, he stepped in a pile of slush that soaked straight through his sneaker.The Next Competitor (Italian Translation).
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