by Sarah Price
“Danke,” Amanda said, embarrassed at having been served by this woman. She was used to being the one cooking and serving food, not the other way around. “It’s right gut,” she said and wondered if Señora Perez understood English. The older woman smiled and nodded, then scurried back toward the house.
A strange life, she thought. For the past week, she had traveled to five cities: Philadelphia, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Las Vegas, back to Los Angeles, and now Miami. She began to realize that, for Alejandro, the road was his home. He lived out of suitcases that other people packed for him. He dined in restaurants or in hotel rooms, eating food that other people cooked for him. He certainly never was served good home-cooked meals. Even more disturbing was that the people who surrounded him clearly cared more about their own self-interests than him, even though she suspected their success was strictly based on his achievements.
No wonder he had wanted to come to the farm, she thought. And an idea formed in her head. She would enlist the help of Rodriego and Señora Perez if she had to, but she wanted to do something special for Alejandro, and she knew just what it was.
“You are relaxing, sí?”
She craned her neck around and smiled when she saw Alejandro walking toward her. He had changed and wore colorful swim trunks and a sleeveless white cotton shirt, a towel draped over his shoulder. He tossed the towel onto a lounge chair and walked toward her, kneeling behind her and wrapping his arms around her.
That familiar rush flooded through her veins, and she shut her eyes, leaning back against him.
“Do you know, Princesa,” he said into her ear. “It is a nice feeling to look out my window and see you sitting here. I had to join you.”
She started to pull away. “Oh no!” she exclaimed. “You said you had calls to make.”
He laughed at her, releasing her as he stood up. “They can wait, no?” Then, before she could respond, he took off his shirt, tossed it on top of the towel, and dove into the pool, barely skimming the top as his body glided under the water. When he reemerged, he shook his head and turned around to look at her. “Ah,” he said, grinning. “That is good. Time to relax for a bit, sí?”
She looked away, not used to seeing a bare-chested man.
“Come in, Amanda,” he said, walking through the water to where she sat.
“I can’t,” she responded, watching him carefully. “I don’t really know how to swim.”
This amused him, so he raised an eyebrow. “No?”
“No,” she said. “Not very well, anyway.”
He stood before her and placed his hands on the pool wall beside her. Water from his chin dripped onto her skirt, which was bunched up by her knees. She glanced down at it, noticing wet droplets on the fabric. He followed her eyes. “Ah, you are getting wet! You should have put on a bathing suit!”
This time, Amanda laughed. “You mean that tiny little thing hanging in the closet? No thank you.”
“I should like to see this ‘tiny little thing’ on you, Princesa,” he teased, that all-too-familiar mischievous tone in his voice and gleam in his eye.
She tried to hide her laughter. “I’ll be happy to show it to you,” she teased back. “It’s on a hanger in that monstrously obscene closet!”
Her words struck him as funny, and he tossed his head back, a full-blown belly laugh echoing through the backyard. His eyes glowed, and he shook his head. “Monstrously obscene, sí?” Shaking his head, he backed away from her and dipped down into the water, his shoulders glistening with the water. “Women would kill for that ‘obscene’ closet, and yet you mock it?”
A simple shrug of her shoulders was her reply. “Not this woman. At home, I had three work dresses and one for church. That was sufficient.” She paused as if thinking before she continued, “That amount of clothing that is in that closet? Why, no one could live long enough to wear it! You Englische put too much emphasis on clothing.”
“You tell that to the fashion designers who are already calling, trying to get appointments with you so that you can wear their clothing to concerts and events,” he said before he dropped beneath the water and began to swim laps in the pool. He swam with his face in the water, his legs kicking and splashing as his arms paddled through the water with long, graceful strokes.
She couldn’t help but watch him. He was poetic in the water, as if he had been born in it. His muscles rippled, and when he dove under the water, she caught her breath, hoping that he was all right. Then he was swimming back toward her, each stroke bringing him closer. He did this ten times, back and forth, taking a breath of air every eight strokes. She counted, mesmerized by his actions. She had never seen anyone swim quite like that.
When he finished, he stood near her in the shallow end and shook his head, droplets of water splashing her and causing her to jump. He laughed and, once again, pushed through the water to lean against the wall next to her. “You like, sí?”
“Oh yes!” she gushed. “I just wish that I could swim like that!”
He cocked his head and looked at her for a moment. “You do?”
“Ja!” she said, nodding her head.
In one quick movement, he reached out and grabbed her, pulling her off the side of the pool and into the water. Screeching, she clung to him, her clothes instantly wet and sticking to her body. He continued laughing, holding on to her as she dug her nails into his arms, afraid to let go.
“Alejandro!” she gasped. “Why did you do that?”
“You want to learn to swim,” he started, relaxing his grip on her but holding her nonetheless. “You must get into the water, no?”
“My clothes are soaked! Probably ruined!” she protested, looking down at the blouse, which, to her dismay, was clinging to her body. A blush covered her cheeks.
He walked backward, holding her as he did so, which pulled her deeper into the water. “You said you could never live long enough to wear all of those clothes,” he teased. “Now you will begin to do just that!”
Despite her discomfort, she couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of excitement about being in the water, her clothes clinging to her and his arms holding her so that she didn’t drown. She stopped fighting him and put her arms around his neck, feeling totally safe in his arms and liking the feeling of his attention.
She chewed on her lower lip for a second, staring up into his face. He was smiling, that half-crooked smile that made him look so mischievous and on edge. His eyes met hers as he continued to walk backward, his arms protectively wrapped around her waist.
“Kiss me,” she breathed, shocked that what she was thinking was actually spoken aloud.
He, too, seemed stunned by her request. His expression changed, a flash of surprise, and then without further encouragement, he leaned down and pressed his lips against hers, holding her tight to his chest as he honored her request.
She kissed him back, becoming lost in the sensation of his passion and knowing that she was entering a place completely different from where she had originated. Gone was her shyness. Gone was her discretion. All that she knew was that this man, this gloriously wonderful man, was kissing her; their bodies pressed together, and she felt as if her body were on fire, despite the fact that she was surrounded by water.
“¡Oye, amigo!”
They both looked up at the sound of a man’s voice. Alejandro took a deep breath, glancing back at the beautiful young woman in his arms. “Lo siento,” he murmured. Then, without missing a beat, he smiled over her head at whoever was approaching. “Miguel! Eduardo!” He released Amanda from his hold but kept his hand around her waist. “¡Bienvenido, mi gente!”
Behind the two men came three others, all wearing shorts and unbuttoned shirts. Alejandro made his way to the pool stairs, bringing Amanda with him. As he climbed up the stairs, the water dripped from his body, and he reached for his towel. He hesitated, then held it open for Amanda, in
stead of using it himself. He wrapped her inside the warm towel and whispered in her ear that she should go change. Introductions could be made later.
Obediently, she hurried past the small group of men, avoiding their eyes for she knew that they had most certainly witnessed that kiss in the pool.
She hadn’t meant to walk into the kitchen at that precise moment. She had been outside, helping Aaron with his new horse. Her brother was still too small to properly groom the horse and certainly not without someone being nearby to oversee him.
But Amanda had wanted to get something from the kitchen. Sugar cubes to spoil the horse. She hadn’t realized that her mother and daed were in the kitchen, sitting at the table and talking. Only they weren’t talking.
She stopped in the doorway, catching her breath as she saw her father and mamm kissing. In all of her years, she couldn’t remember ever seeing her parents show any signs of affection toward each other. That was reserved for private time and behind closed doors. Feeling guilty, she realized that this was their private time, and they had indeed been behind closed doors until she had walked in.
Quietly, she backed out of the room, hoping that they would never know that their daughter had walked in on them at such an intimate moment. Still, as she hurried back to the barn, she smiled to herself, loving the fact that there was still passion between her parents, a passion that stole kisses in the kitchen when the curious eyes of their children were nowhere around.
By the time she had changed and gathered the courage to return downstairs, music was playing in the backyard and the men were lounging around the pool, cocktails in hand. More people had arrived, both men and women. She was stunned to see women in tiny bikinis, lounging by the pool, some with the straps to their tops hanging down by their sides.
Standing in the shadow of the overhang, she watched as several men swam in the pool while Alejandro stood in the middle of another crowd of men, laughing and speaking to them in Spanish. He had a glass in his hand with a clear liquid. She knew that it most likely was not water.
“¡Ay, Princesa!” he called out and waved to her, gesturing that she should join him.
Reluctantly, she padded across the patio. She wore a simple dress, sleeveless, with small flowers on the white fabric. It hugged her waist but flowed from her hips. She felt conspicuous with her bare arms and the V-shaped neckline. As usual, she wore no shoes, preferring to be barefoot whenever she could as she had often done at home in Pennsylvania.
“I want you to meet my friends,” he exclaimed, reaching for her hand and pulling her close.
After the introductions were made, Amanda stood by his side, feeling extremely uncomfortable and wishing that she was anywhere else but here. The men were switching back and forth between Spanish and English, their accents thicker than Alejandro’s and harder for her to understand. The women were off to the side, sunbathing, although Amanda thought their skin was already a beautiful golden-bronze color.
“So you are this famous Amish girl, sí?” the one man named Miguel asked, sidling up to her. He shook his hand in the air, as if shaking something off it. “Ay, Dios mío, Viper,” he said. “¡Qué rica!”
“Hey!” Alejandro said, but his eyes twinkled. “¡Basta, papito!” The other men laughed, and Amanda moved closer to Alejandro, feeling her heart in her throat and immediately not liking these men at all, despite not understanding what they had said.
“¡Oye, chicas!” Alejandro called out, looking at the women. “You OK over there, sí?”
One of the women waved her hand absentmindedly, indicating that she was fine while the other two women ignored him. It was only when Amanda looked closer that she noticed they were wearing small earbuds and listening to music.
To Amanda’s dismay, the group of people continued to grow with more revelers arriving throughout the afternoon. By the time the sun was beginning to set, there was a full-blown gathering, over twenty-four people, around the pool. The music grew louder; the women disappeared and came back, having changed in the cabana. It was clear from how comfortable they were at Alejandro’s place that they had been there many times before.
Amanda managed to excuse herself and retreat into the shade of the indoors. She felt lost and alone, despite all of the people who had descended upon Alejandro. This is his life, she thought. His friends. She felt out of place and wished that those people would just leave. But immediately after that thought crossed her mind, she regretted it. After everything Alejandro had done for her, she thought, she was ashamed to feel so ungrateful, especially when he was clearly having a good time.
In the kitchen, Señora Perez was preparing food. Amanda stood back and watched, wishing she knew Spanish and could offer her help. It was apparent that Señora Perez was used to impromptu gatherings at the condo when Alejandro was home. She didn’t even blink an eye at the extra work that had just been forced upon her.
“May I help you?” Amanda finally said, not being able to continue standing there and watching.
To her surprise, the woman looked up and smiled. “No, gracias. It’s fine, but thank you, mamacita.”
She spoke English! Amanda was thrilled. She rushed forward and leaned against the counter. “Please let me help,” she implored. “I feel so helpless and would feel ever so much better if I could do something.”
“El señor will no like,” the woman said, shaking her head.
“Nee,” Amanda countered. “I want to. Please.” She reached out and took the tray of appetizers from Señora Perez. “Please,” she pleaded one last time, to which, with a sigh of defeat, Señora Perez relented.
Through the open door, Amanda carried the tray. She could at least bring the food outside, she thought, finally feeling useful. In all of her years, she couldn’t remember not working. Every day, there was something to do: cooking, cleaning, laundry, animal care, gardening. Something. At least when they had been traveling, she had accompanied Alejandro to his meetings and interviews, to the meet and greets and concerts. She wasn’t certain if she would ever get used to doing nothing, not like those women on the lounge chairs.
She made several trips, carrying the prepared food to the large table that was near the pool. No one seemed to notice. Alejandro was dancing now, laughing with his friends and even singing. From the shadows, she watched him, seeing that the women were now more engaged with the men. They had used the bedroom in the cabana to wash and get changed. All of them looked like they could have been movie stars, with high heels and small dresses that hugged their overly tanned bodies.
One woman danced closer to Alejandro. She had blond hair that hung in long, loose waves over her shoulders. When he saw her, he wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. Their bodies moved as one to the Latino music in a way that Amanda had never even imagined. She felt a twinge of jealousy as she watched them, too aware that Alejandro was dancing with another woman, their bodies pressed against each other. It was indecent, she thought, while at the same time too aware that she was also wishing she could dance like that . . . both physically and emotionally.
It was clear that the party wasn’t going to end at any time soon, and Amanda didn’t want to be a part of it. Quietly, she retreated back inside and stole upstairs. She entered her bedroom, leaving the lights off, and moved over to one of the chairs by the window. For a long while, she sat there, watching the people downstairs, seeing Alejandro mingling with everyone, enjoying himself far more than she had seen him do in the past week while traveling.
It dawned on her that, indeed, he was home, and she felt further from it than ever.
Letting the curtain fall back, she walked away from the window and began preparing for bed. She heard the familiar ping of the cell phone, and, surprised to hear anything at all from the device since only Alejandro knew the number, she looked around the room for it. It was on her night table. Someone had put it there, plugging it in for her so that it would be fully
charged.
Picking it up, she saw that Alejandro had sent her a text.
Are you coming back down, Princesa?
Are you OK?
V
She smiled and walked back over to the window. When she pulled the curtain back, she wasn’t surprised to see him standing so that he could see her. She glanced down at the phone and tried to remember what the people at the Los Angeles hotel had shown her. How was she supposed to send him a message again? she asked herself. Then she remembered:
<3
A
She glanced out the window and, a few seconds later, saw him glance down at the device in his hand. When he saw her message, he laughed and looked up at the window. She raised her hand, pressing it against the glass, to which he responded by lifting his own and waving back at her. Then, satisfied that she was well tended, he turned back to his guests.
She watched only for a few seconds, not liking the way that the woman with the long blond hair, the one with whom he had danced earlier and had introduced to her as Maria, kept lingering near him. Jealousy, Amanda said to herself, scolding herself for feeling such an emotion. It was ugly, and she didn’t like the feeling. For the last time that night, she turned away from the window and made her way to the bed.
Sleep, she thought. Perhaps sleep would cure the foreboding feeling that had started to swell inside her chest.
Chapter Thirteen
The next day, it was well past noon when he emerged from his room. She had been outside, weeding the potted plants that surrounded the outdoor living area, when she heard him call out for her as he exited the kitchen through the open patio doors. She leaned back and peered around the corner, smiling when she saw him approach.
He was wearing freshly laundered white linen slacks with a crisp crease down the front of each leg. His white linen shirt was rolled up at the sleeves and unbuttoned down part of his torso. The tan leather belt matched his tan leather loafers. Her eyes were drawn to the tattoos on his arms, wondering what had ever possessed him to deface his own body, despite the intricate details of the design.