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“This way.”
Shepherd leaned around a branch Samuel held back for him. “Where exactly are we going?”
“There is a river back here that I enjoy going to. It is a peaceful place,” Samuel’s voice was deep, yet soft in tone. Each word he said had purpose to it, as if he chose each one with rigorous specificity. It was odd, especially coupled with the slight accent marking English as his second language, but Shepherd had grown to find it a comfortable sound.
The forests that marked the edges of the Edelmann’s property were dense in a way that was unusual for the area. Most land around was dedicated to farming or for homesteads. Since the Edelmann family were carpenters, they didn’t require the acreage the farmers did; and their meticulously maintained garden made up for the lack of owned land. While Shepherd would have assumed the forest would have been long reduced for the said carpentry needs, the Edelmann patriarch, Isaac, seemed keen on leaving it untouched.
A clearing emerged from the brush, and Shepherd took in the sight before him. A creek separated two rocky banks, with water that would reach half-way to Shepherd’s knees if he were to walk in. The water splashed as a small fish jumped. Birds sang in the tree boughs. There was serenity.
Shepherd let out a low whistle as Samuel approached the edge of the water. He stooped to roll up his pant legs, then unceremoniously dropped to the grass and sat with his legs in the bank.
“The water is refreshing,” Samuel said to no one in particular.
Shepherd casually slipped his boots off and rolled his own jeans up, then sat down next to Samuel on the bank. He watched the rippling of the water as it flowed.
“We used to have a creek like this at my old house,” Shepherd said. The memory was bittersweet; as all memories he had with his parents were. A beat passed silently.
“How did your parents die?” Samuel asked. A faint smile graced Shepherd’s face for a moment. Samuel was as blunt as ever, and he enjoyed that. He’d gotten tired of the way people tiptoed around him a long time ago.
“A car accident,” he answered simply. “They were comin’ home from somewhere, I don’t quite remember now. I remember the babysitter had tried callin’ em when they were late, and then at almost midnight, an officer was at the door. I, um… I was eight.”
Samuel hummed. He took his straw hat off and tossed it to the side, then laid back onto the grass.
“My mother burned to death.”
Shepherd turned to look down at Samuel with wide eyes, waiting for more. Silence stretched on. Apparently not.
Shepherd removed his own hat and joined Samuel in the rocks and grass. Time crawled on as they both watched the clouds float lazily by. Shepherd wasn’t bored or uncomfortable in the silence. The sound of the world around him– the movement of the water or the breeze in the trees– was entertainment enough. Shepherd had to give it to the Amish; if they knew anything, it was how to take life at its own pace.
Eventually, Shepherd shifted to face Samuel, an elbow propping him up.
“Have you made your decision, then?”
Samuel tutted. He knew what Shepherd was talking about.
“No.”
“Bet your dad ain’t happy about it. I remember you said he’d been pushin’ you to make a decision for your baptism date.”
“I…” Samuel hesitated, his brows furrowed in a scowl. It made him look like his father. Shepherd took in the details of his face; how his straw-colored hair curled around his soft cheeks, how intense his light eyes always were, even if he wasn’t looking at him. He was one of the most beautiful people he’d ever seen. Suddenly, their gazes met for the briefest moment, before Samuel looked back to the sky.
“I’m not even in a courtship,” Samuel huffed. “It matters little if I am baptized right now or not.” Shepherd had a feeling this wasn’t what he wanted to say at first.
“What happens if you just… don’t?”
“One cannot be an adult member of the church and not be baptized. If I refused, it would be tantamount to ex-communicating myself. It is only because I am still young that this hasn’t happened.” Samuel shifted, as if he were nervous just to speak of it. Shepherd’s brows furrowed in concern.
“Isn’t there some sort of… ritual or something, that you do before you get baptized? Like, a coming of age thing?”
“Rumspringa? It is not a ritual. It is just a name for the period of time between when a person reaches adulthood, but is still unbaptized.” Samuel gestured a hand to the sky as he spoke. “Parents don’t supervise quite so much, and you are encouraged to interact with others your age. Most of it is to encourage finding a spouse.”
“So, no wild Amish parties, then?” Shepherd grinned. Samuel rolled his eyes.
“There are a handful who try English activities, or… substances. It is not many, and I have no interest in this.”
Shepherd nodded, as if Samuel could see. Silence passed.
“I think my father disapproves of you.”
Shepherd was taken aback.
“Why?”
“Because I am spending time with you instead of looking for a wife.” Shepherd watched as Samuel twisted blades of grass between his fingers. Shepherd perked up, and mentally scolded himself for it.
“So, you… don’t have a girl you like or nothin’?” He asked, and his inner dialogue objected twofold. Samuel turned his head, and they met eyes again.
“No girls,” He answered. Shepherd’s heart beat faster as he focused on Samuel’s wording. No girls. He didn’t say no one .
Get it together, Silas.
“Well, it’s not like you need a wife to get baptized. Why don’t you just get it over with?” Shepherd sat up as he spoke. Samuel carried the warmth of the rising sun as he came to join him. His brilliance was shadowed by a strange expression clouding his face.
“Shepherd?”
“Yeah?”
“If I speak this to you, will you promise not to tell another living soul what you hear?”
Shepherd shifted closer to Samuel, concern now etched into his face.
“Of course. You can tell me anything, I won’t judge you or nothin’.” Shepherd watched as Samuel’s stoicism was broken with what could have only been anxiety or fear. It was strange to see in his features, normally so solid and confident. He was suddenly ashamed of himself for ever thinking that Samuel was unbothered by life.
“I am… I have doubts. Not in God– I feel closer to Him now than ever before– but in this community. I don’t know if this is truly the way God wants us to live. That to be of the world, and enjoy in its comforts, is a sin.”
Shepherd opened his mouth, then closed it again. He knew enough of the ramifications that could come from what Samuel was implying. How could Shepherd be proper counsel for something so wildly outside of his own experiences?
“I do not think highly of the Church,” Samuel continued firmly. It seemed he couldn’t stop now that he’d started. “They use the threat of ex-communication as a fear tactic. If I do not agree to their terms and their beliefs, I am branded heretic and can no longer talk to my family, my friends or neighbors– I would not even be able to shop in their stores. The English have the excuse of not ‘knowing better.’ I would not.”
“...Samuel–”
“I want to believe this is not in the Father’s plans. If we are to be judged for our beliefs or our choices, let it be in front of the gates– not by those we are supposed to love regardless of our differences.”
It finally fell to silence. Shepherd’s mind was alight, begging himself to say anything that could brighten Samuel again. Instead, he tentatively reached out and gripped Samuel’s shoulder. He was firm, but not cruel– an attempt to give Samuel something to ground himself with. Samuel’s eyes flicked down, then he raised his own hand and grabbed Shepherd’s shoulder in turn.
“Buddy, I couldn’t begin to tell you what you should do in this situation. Whatever the right choice is, only you can make it for yourself. Just know that you’re my friend, and you’ll always be, no matter what you choose.”
Samuel's eyes were wide and glossy, but he did not cry. He nodded to Shepherd in acknowledgement. Shepherd felt dull nails dig into his shoulder, but said nothing.
“Thank you, Silas. As long as you are in it, any life could be a happy one,” Samuel’s voice was softer than Shepherd had ever heard it. That added with the sound of his first name made a shiver run down his spine, and he desperately wanted to close the distance between them. He wanted to kiss Samuel, over and over until his lips were numb and Samuel was smiling wider than he ever had.
Instead, Shepherd pulled his hand away. They both turned to look at the river again. Shepherd watched the slow, shallow water ripple over the rocks, twisting around them lazily. It was unbothered by all mortal concerns.
“Shepherd?”
“Yeah?” Shepherd turned his head, Samuel’s deadpan expression had returned, but the slightest red dusted his freckled cheeks.
“I would like you to take me out.”
Shepherd did a double take. Samuel blinked impassively.
“What?”
“I would like to see a movie for the first time.”
Suddenly, Shepherd laughed. His whole body shook with the force of a full-bellied guffaw, and he was still laughing as he fell back to the ground. He couldn’t stop himself.
“What? I said nothing funny. What did you think I meant?” Samuel questioned. Shepherd opened his eyes to see Samuel leaning over him, the sunlight peeking through his golden bangs hanging in his eyes. For once, Shepherd made no attempt to hide his affection. Damn and bless that man, for all his strange ways.
“Nothin’, Sam. We can go this Saturday, how’s that sound?”
“Hmm. That is amenable.”
Shepherd grinned up at him. Samuel’s lips curled up, ever so slightly.