“Ja. Look, there is your name right on it. Down at the bottom here it has all the directions for where to go and what to do when you get to Cleveland,” she explained happily. “You are on your way to becoming an American Star!”
“This is really happening.” Katrina read through the letter, then tucked it into the band of her apron. “I can’t believe it.”
“Oh, I almost forgot. Peter said he will drive the buggy to group singing again tomorrow night if you and Cal want to ride with us.”
“Ja. Thank you!” Katrina hugged her.
For the rest of the day, Katrina happily sang along with the golden oldies. By now she had learned the words to at least a dozen or more songs. She hoped that one of those songs would be just right for her audition—she knew that was what they called it because Bekka had shown her some of the auditions from the last season, and she knew that “last season” meant the previous group of shows, not winter or spring. She’d been encouraged to see others auditioning, because Bekka was right—most of them did not sing very well. Katrina felt she might truly have a chance to win that prize money for Daed.
On Saturday night, all her friends were excited to hear the news. Some of them even seemed to know what American Star was, but most of them were simply happy to hear that she might win some money to help her father get the surgery he needed to get well. At the end of the meeting, they even took time to pray for her to succeed at winning the prize. Katrina was touched.
On the way home, Cal suggested that Bekka should accompany Katrina to Cleveland next Friday. “Since Bekka was just there with her family, she probably knows how to ride the bus and find her way. And she’ll be good company for you.”
“Ja!” Bekka exclaimed. “That’s a great idea.” Her eyes sparkled as she smiled at Cal. Katrina could see she was thrilled that Cal had thought of her for this.
“I wish I could go with you,” Cal said, “but you know I can’t miss that much work . . . not with Daed laid up.”
“I know.” Katrina patted his back. “But you’re right. Bekka will know what to do, won’t you, Bekka?”
“Ja. I will take care of everything for you.”
“I would drive you to Millersburg,” Cal told Katrina, “except we’re cutting hay next week. It’ll be busy.”
“I can’t take them,” Peter said from up front where he was driving the horses. “Especially not if Bekka is gone—and that is if our parents agree, Bekka. We have too many orders to fill for both of us to go.”
“Our parents will agree,” Bekka assured him. “I’ll tell them this is my rumspringa too. And I’ll work really hard all next week. I won’t play a single computer game either.”
They all laughed.
“I will drive the girls to Millersburg,” Cooper offered in a serious tone. “I’d been planning to go up there to visit my uncle anyway.”
Katrina had noticed that Cooper seemed quieter than usual. She wasn’t sure if it was related to her or something else. “You don’t mind?”
“No.” He turned away, looking out over the field that was washed in moonlight. She wished she knew what he was thinking. Was he upset that she was doing this? But hadn’t he encouraged her too? Perhaps he was thinking about his apprenticeship. Had he already made up his mind to do it? If so, where did that leave her? And them—or was there even a them? It seemed lately she’d been too busy to fully consider this.
By Sunday afternoon, it was settled at the Lehmans’. Bekka was allowed to go, but only if she worked very hard to get every order filled. She told Katrina, “I’ll give Cooper a message through Peter—letting him know when we need to be dropped off and picked up at the bus station.”
“Thank you.” Katrina sighed in relief. “I couldn’t do this without you.”
“Now we need to decide what you’re going to wear,” Bekka declared.
“Oh?” Katrina frowned. “You don’t think I should wear my Sunday dress, do you? I thought I’d just wear my green dress. It’s my favorite, and Mamm says it matches my eyes.”
“What?” Bekka looked shocked.
Katrina was confused. “My blue dress then?”
“No, that’s not what I mean.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean you can’t dress like that.” Bekka frowned. “You need to wear English clothes.”
Katrina’s hand flew up to her mouth. “English clothes?”
“Ja. You’re competing with the English, Katrina. You do know this, don’t you?”
“I might be competing”—Katrina didn’t even like the sound of that word—“but that doesn’t mean I have to look like them.”
“It’s all right,” Bekka assured her. “It’s your rumspringa, remember?”
Katrina stood up straight, looking Bekka right in the eyes. “Ja. It is my rumspringa. But that does not mean I will wear English clothes. Do you understand?”
Bekka looked worried. “Ja, I understand. But do you understand that might make you lose?”
“If I lose, I lose. I will wear my green dress.”
“Ja . . .” Bekka sounded discouraged.
Katrina put a hand on her shoulder. “I know you mean well, Bekka. But if my voice isn’t enough to win this thing, I don’t want it. Do you understand?”
Bekka shrugged. Katrina knew that if Bekka were able to sing, she would have no problem making these compromises. In fact, life would be much easier if Bekka were the one to enter a singing contest. Except that she couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket.
“I wonder how much money I should bring,” Katrina mused. “I’ll need to get some out of my bean jar.”
“Your what?”
Katrina waved her hand. “No matter. And don’t worry, I will pay for all we need—you and me both.”
Bekka’s eyes lit up. “Oh, I nearly forgot. You still have the money your grandmother left you.”
“Ja. Maybe she knew I would have need of it.”
On Thursday night, Katrina thought she would be too anxious to sleep, but it had been such a busy day that she was exhausted. “Are you afraid?” Sadie asked quietly in the darkness.
“Afraid?” Katrina considered the meaning of the word. “No, I don’t think so. But I am nervous.”
“Do you think you’ll get homesick?”
“Homesick?”
“I’ve read about it in books. A girl goes away from home for the first time and she misses it so much she gets homesick. Do you think you’ll get it too?”
Katrina chuckled. “I doubt it. I’ll only be gone a few days.”
“Did you decide what you’re going to sing yet?”
“Not exactly. But I have narrowed it down to three songs.” She didn’t tell Sadie that one of the songs—the one she was leaning toward—was one that their very own mammi had written and performed nearly fifty years ago. Bekka had made the discovery on her computer, learning that “After the Storm,” a moving song about the destructiveness of war, had been written by Starla Knight.
“I hope you sing the tin soldier song,” Sadie said wistfully.
“It’s one that I’m considering.”
“I’ll be praying for you, Katrina.”
“Thank you.” Katrina reached over, hugging her little sister in the darkness. To her surprise, she felt tears in her eyes. “I’ll be praying for you too.”
Sadie laughed. “Praying that I don’t let your tomatoes dry up, I’ll bet.”
The next morning, Katrina got up before the sun, which was quite early in June. She had already packed her bag for the trip, and the blue dress she planned to wear for traveling hung on a peg, ready to go. In the darkness she pulled on her black stockings and then the dress, pinned her apron into place, pinned on her shoulder shawl, and slipped her feet into her good black leather shoes. Tucking her nightgown into the bag, she looked around the room, which was so dark she could barely see. Without making a sound, she slipped out and down the hallway and was just going to the kitchen when she noticed a golden glow in there.
> “Mamm?” she said in surprise. “You didn’t need to get up this early.”
Mamm, still in her long white nightgown, turned toward Katrina. “I couldn’t let you go without saying a proper goodbye.” She handed Katrina a paper bag. “I know you already packed some food for your trip, but I made some moon pies last night.”
Katrina hugged her. “Thank you, Mamm.”
“I will be praying for you,” she said solemnly.
“I know you will.”
Mamm looked out the window to where a buggy, with its lanterns glowing, was just pulling up in their driveway. “Don’t keep them waiting.”
With her arms loaded with the bags—and tears in her eyes—Katrina told Mamm goodbye, then hurried out into the darkness. She hoped this wasn’t a mistake.
“Morning,” Cooper said as he helped her into the buggy.
“Good morning,” she said brightly.
“Morning?” Bekka grumbled. “This is the middle of the night.”
“You can tell Bekka’s not a farm girl,” Cooper teased. “Katrina and I are used to getting up with the chickens.”
“The chickens aren’t even up yet,” Bekka pointed out.
“Why don’t you curl up here and take a nap,” Katrina suggested. “I’ll ride in front with Cooper.”
Bekka didn’t argue, and Katrina, relieved at the idea of having Cooper to herself for a while, happily sat beside him. “Thank you so much for taking us,” she said quietly.
“I was going that way anyway.”
“Ja . . .”
“I’m sorry,” he said more gently. “I don’t know why I’m acting so grumpy lately.”
“I’ve wondered if something was wrong.”
He let out a long sigh. “There’s a lot to think about.”
“I know . . .”
“Decisions to make.”
She just nodded.
“Life decisions . . . you know?” His voice sounded husky. Maybe it was just the cool night air.
“I do know.”
He glanced at her and the buggy lanterns illuminated his face, but she couldn’t really see what was in his eyes as he pushed his straw hat more firmly on his brow.
“I feel confused a lot,” she admitted. “I never really intended to do this . . . I mean, to go and sing and try to win a prize. Sometimes I feel like I grabbed ahold of the bull’s tail, you know, and he’s pulling me around the pasture, jerking me around, but I’m too scared to let go because he’ll kick the stuffing out of me.”
Cooper chuckled. “You have a way with words, Katrina.”
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“A secret?” His voice lilted ever so slightly. “Ja, sure.”
As they drove into the gray dawn, she told him the whole story of her grandmother. At least as much as she knew.
“I knew there was some mystery there,” he admitted. “Now it makes more sense.”
“So . . . maybe I feel like Mammi is directing this whole thing. Is that silly?”
“Not at all.”
“I wish I knew the rest of her story,” Katrina said. “That might help me.”
“Well, I can ask Aunt Martha to tell me what she knows.”
“Will you?” Katrina looked at him.
“Sure.”
She continued looking at him, admiring his strong profile in the light of the golden sunrays that were just coming over the eastern horizon, loving his straight nose, how his hair curled around his ears, and the way his lower lip jutted out ever so slightly as he clutched the reins in both hands. Suddenly everything inside of her seemed to want to grab on to him, to hold on to him, to kiss him . . . and to never let go. She’d never known such a strong yearning in her life. Truly, she wanted to hold on to this boy more than anything. Even more than she wanted to sing. And that shocked her.
“Good morning!” Bekka called cheerfully. “It looks as if the sun finally decided to get up after all.”
The three of them conversed back and forth and ate their bagged breakfasts as the buggy rumbled along the road. They were all excited, happily looking forward to whatever it was that lay before them today. But Katrina knew that if Cooper simply asked her, she would change her plans and give it all up for him. She truly believed that.
When they reached the bus station, though, he simply wished her good luck and told her he’d pick them up here at midday on Monday. Then he drove away.
9
Katrina didn’t know what she would have done without Bekka. Everything seemed so busy and crowded and confusing. Yet Bekka managed to get them bus tickets, and after a couple hours of waiting in the station, where they ate their lunch and used the restroom and endured the curious looks of numerous English travelers, they were finally on the bus to Cleveland. Katrina sighed. She had never seen so many strangers before, never been out in the English world like this, not without her parents anyway. It was overwhelming.
“It’s about eighty miles,” Bekka told her, “but we’ll be there in less than two hours.”
Katrina had never traveled so fast in her life. Just looking out the window made her feel dizzy—everything whizzed by in a blur. But when she didn’t look out, her stomach began to feel queasy. “I’ll be glad when we get there.”
When they got there, though, she discovered that Cleveland was even bigger and busier than Millersburg. “This doesn’t even look like a place where people can live,” she whispered to Bekka as they went out onto the street, where they saw nothing but cars and trucks and many enormous buildings. She clutched her bag to her chest, smelling the fumes from the traffic. “How can they breathe? How do they find their way? And where do they live?”
Bekka wasn’t listening. Instead she was waving to a car and yelling, “Taxi!” as if she knew what she was doing. Maybe she did—maybe she’d seen that on her computer too. Because just like that a yellow-and-black car pulled up, and the driver got out and opened the rear door with a curious grin. “Where you ladies headed?”
They got in, and Bekka told him the name of the hotel at the bottom of Katrina’s letter. Katrina was almost afraid to breathe as he pulled his car right out into the other fast-moving cars. If she thought the bus ride was scary, this was way worse. God, help us, she silently prayed again and again. This time she kept her eyes firmly shut.
“Here you go, ladies,” he said when the car came to what was thankfully its final stop. “That’ll be sixteen dollars.”
Katrina looked at Bekka. “Is that right?”
“Ja. Just pay him.”
Katrina opened her bag and fingered through the change left over from their bus tickets, counting it out exactly as she handed it to him. He looked at her as if that wasn’t enough.
“Sixteen dollars?” she repeated. “Isn’t that right?”
He said a word she didn’t understand, then waved at her as if to say, “Get out of my car.” Katrina and Bekka had barely closed the door when he took off. “Did I do something wrong?” she asked Bekka as they looked up at a big, glossy-looking building.
“I don’t know.” Bekka smiled at her. “Here we are.”
“What do we do now?” Suddenly Katrina was tired—the end of the day kind of tired—but it wasn’t even suppertime yet.
“Let’s go inside and find out.”
Katrina could feel people looking at them as they went into the fancy hotel, where there were indoor fountains and huge potted plants and high, high ceilings and all sorts of strange sights. While Bekka went up to a counter, Katrina couldn’t help but gape and stare at everything. Somehow she felt that wasn’t as rude as when people gaped and stared at her. Oh, she knew she should be used to it by now. It happened whenever they went to town. Sometimes tourists came by the busloads just to look at them and to take pictures, which was the worst. It was as if the English thought Amish folks had no feelings and didn’t notice the curious onlookers. To be fair, sometimes Katrina stared back, because some of the clothes that the English wore—well, even if she went around in her under
clothes, she would be more covered than they were!
Bekka returned now. “They said to go over there.” She pointed to where some young people were waiting in line. Katrina followed her, and they waited too.
When they finally got up to a counter, a pretty blonde woman in a white shirt asked if she could help them. “We’re here for the American Star TV show,” Bekka explained. “My friend Katrina here is going to audition tomorrow or the next day.”
The woman peered curiously at Katrina. “Yes, well, I work for the hotel. Not the TV show. Do you girls have a reservation?”
Bekka glanced at Katrina, but Katrina just shrugged.
“What’s a reservation?” Bekka asked the woman.
“A reservation is how you get a room. Do you girls have a room?”
“You mean to sleep in?” Bekka asked in a nervous tone.
“Yes. Do you have a place to stay while your friend does her audition for the show?”
Bekka shook her head. “I thought the show took care of that.”
“No. The show uses our hotel to film in, but the contestants are responsible for their own lodging.”
Bekka tossed Katrina a nervous look, so Katrina stepped up. “Do you have sleeping rooms here?” she asked politely.
The woman gave her a grim look. “I’m sorry, but we’re booked.”
Katrina bit her lip. “What should we do?”
The woman was punching her fingers on a keyboard now, similar to what Bekka did in her office. It seemed that their problems were of no concern to her.
“I’m sorry,” Katrina told her. “We didn’t mean to trouble you, but—”
The woman looked up. “Do you girls have money? Enough for a room here? I think I found a cancellation.”
Katrina nodded. “We have money. How much does a room cost?”
“We have a special rate for the show—ninety-nine dollars a night. Can you afford that for three nights?”
“Three hundred dollars for three nights?” Katrina asked Bekka.
“Do you want the room or not?” the woman asked.
“Yes,” Bekka said. “We’ll take it.”
“But—”
“If you win the prize money, it will seem like nothing,” Bekka whispered.
A Simple Song Page 8