by Sarah Price
“Guder mariye!” she sang, greeting him with a bright, sunny smile. “Or, in your case, afternoon!”
His eyes were hidden behind brown sunglasses, but she could tell that he had stayed up late the evening before by the drained look on his face. “What are you doing?” he asked, kneeling down beside her.
“Gardening!”
“Why?” He looked perplexed, not just at her answer but at her enthusiasm.
“There were weeds, and some of the flowers needed to be deadheaded,” she explained.
He brushed his hand against her arm. “I have a gardener who should be doing that, no?” He stared at her shoulders. “You will get burned, Princesa. You must wear sunblock.”
“What’s that?” she asked innocently.
“A protective lotion for your skin,” he responded, standing back up and reaching a hand down for her to take. Helping her to her feet, he leaned over and gently kissed her cheek. “You will burn your beautiful skin or get freckles, like me.” He pointed to his cheeks where a few freckles could barely be seen. “I must go visiting some businesspeople in Miami, Amanda,” he said, changing the subject. “You may come along with me, if you’d like.”
“Nee, nee,” she objected. “I love gardening and would so much prefer to stay here, Alejandro.” When she saw the look on his face, she quickly added, “If that’s fine with you, that is.”
“Sí,” he said dismissively, waving his hand at her last remark. “But I would prefer that you do something else that is more exciting and less laborious.”
“Laborious?” she repeated, stressing each syllable of the word. “But I like doing this.”
He raised an eyebrow. “It makes you happy?”
“¡Sí!” she said lightly, smiling impishly at him. “It makes me happy!”
A low growl escaped his throat, and he reached for her waist, pulling her toward him and leaning down to nuzzle her neck. “I like when you speak Spanish,” he purred into her ear. A shiver ran up her spine, and she had to catch her breath. “Perhaps I will teach you more than sí,” he said, and then, after a pause, he peered down into her face. “On the other hand, sí might come in handy with you.”
The color flooded to her cheeks, and he laughed at her modesty.
“You weren’t blushing yesterday in the pool,” he reminded her, his voice soft and seductive. Waving a finger at her, he winked playfully. “Don’t think I forgot where we left off.”
“Alejandro!” she whispered, pushing gently at his chest as if to try to get away from him. But her halfhearted attempt was futile, and when he leaned down to kiss her lips, she responded in kind.
“More of that later, sí?” he whispered. He gave her one last chaste kiss before, quick as a flash, he released her, smoothed down his pants to avoid getting any wrinkles, and glanced at his watch. “Now, I will see you later. Put on that lotion and have fun . . . weeding.” He started to walk away and then paused, glancing over his shoulder to watch her for a few more seconds.
She felt him watching her and looked up. His eyes were hidden behind his glasses, so she couldn’t read his reaction. So she merely smiled and tilted her head. “Ja?”
He shook his head quickly, as if pushing thoughts out of his mind. “Nada, mi amor,” he said. “Don’t forget that we have a party tonight.”
“A party tonight?” she repeated, her voice a pitch higher. “What was last night?”
He laughed and started walking away, waving to her over his shoulder. She could hear him still laughing as he walked through the French doors and disappeared inside.
The church service had just ended, and Amanda was following her older sister, Anna, as the women began to prepare the food for the noon fellowship meal. The men were busy converting the benches into long tables so that the younger women could carry the plates of cold cuts, fresh bread, and bowls of salad for the first sitting to enjoy.
Amanda set plates at the table, moving slowly behind her sister, who was setting down silverware. After the first group of church members ate, it would be up to the women to quickly gather the plates and wash them for the second sitting. That was when the younger adults would eat. During the first sitting, it was the young, unmarried women’s job to refill water while the older people and young mothers with their children ate.
“Aren’t you eating?” her sister asked when they finally had a chance to sit down. It was almost one o’clock, but Amanda wasn’t hungry. She picked at the food and stared off into the distance.
“Hmm?” she said, interrupted from her thoughts. She looked up at Anna.
“You haven’t touched anything yet,” Anna said, concern in her voice.
Shrugging, Amanda poked at her food. She was tired after having gotten up so early to finish morning chores before church. The service had been so long that, despite her best efforts, she had fallen asleep twice during the sermons. It wasn’t that it was boring. No, that wasn’t it. But she was mentally tired of the routine, the repetitive nature of every other week going to church, listening to the bishop expose the evils of the world or rebuke church members for harboring sin in their hearts.
She couldn’t help but wonder if there wasn’t anything else out there. Why did everything have to be the same routine, the same songs, the same gatherings? She found herself thinking about the world of the Englische and suddenly understanding why so many youths explored it during their rumschpringe. She wondered what it would be like to experience just a taste of that world.
It was six o’clock when he finally returned. Amanda was lying down on her bed, a cold cloth on her eyes, when she heard him enter her room without knocking.
“¿Qué es eso?” he asked. “Rodriego said that you are not feeling well. What’s wrong, Princesa?” He crossed the room, and she felt the bed shift from his weight as he sat down on it, right next to her. His presence filled the room, and she could smell the musky scent of his cologne. “¡Ay, Dios mío, Amanda!” he scolded her. “You didn’t put on sunblock!”
“No,” she whispered. “It hurts, Alejandro.”
He pressed a finger against her shoulder, watching the bright pink skin turn white under his touch, then immediately return to pink. She flinched. “I’m sorry, Princesa,” he said quickly.
“How long will it hurt?” she whined, choking back the tears.
“A few days,” he said and sighed. He lifted the washcloth from her face. She opened her eyes and stared at him. Her brown eyes blinked, and he frowned, despite the innocent look on her face. “Why didn’t you listen to me?”
“I forgot.”
He made a face at her and shook his head. “Well, you won’t forget again, no?”
“No,” she replied meekly, hating the burning, pinching feeling on her forehead, shoulders, and the back of her neck. “I can’t lift my arms.”
He chuckled and got up, taking the washcloth to the bathroom to rinse it with cold water. After shaking off the excess water, he came back to the bedroom and gently placed it on her forehead and eyes. “I bet not,” he said softly.
“I’ve worked in the sun all my life,” she said. “I never used that sun lotion before. And I’ve never had this happen.”
“Princesa,” he tried to explain. “Miami is much closer to the equator, and the sun is much stronger here. I also doubt that you wore sleeveless dresses when you gardened at home, no? You must protect your beautiful skin.”
Beautiful skin? The two words almost made the pain worthwhile. She had never thought about skin as being something . . . beautiful.
She could hear him fiddle with his cell phone and heard the sound of him texting someone. She started to lean up on her elbows, but the pain stopped her. The washcloth fell from her face. “Who are you texting, Alejandro?” she asked, immediately regretting the question. She had never asked him before.
“I’m getting you some medicine,” he said, setting the phone
on her nightstand.
“I don’t think I can attend your party,” she replied, hating the thought that she might have ruined his night.
He waved his hand dismissively. “That’s not important,” he said. “Every night is a party in Miami. I’m more concerned about you.”
It was twenty minutes later when someone knocked at the door. Alejandro opened it. Rodriego stood there and handed him a small white bag. Thanking him, Alejandro hurried back to the bed and helped her sit up, ignoring her wincing at the pain.
“I need to help you take your dress off, Amanda,” he said.
“What?” The thought of him undressing her startled her. It was bad enough that he was sitting next to her on the bed.
He frowned at her. “This is serious. You need to take it off. You’ll feel much better, and I can apply the Benzocaine to your skin.”
She shook her head emphatically. “No!”
“Amanda!” His voice was firm, and he didn’t wait for another argument from her. He unzipped the back of the dress and gently lifted the fabric from her shoulders to slide it down her arms without touching her inflamed skin. Carefully, he helped her slip her arms out, paying particular attention to not expose her breasts.
Despite the pain, she clutched the dress to her chest, avoiding his eyes.
“Stop being so modest,” he said. “I’m not peeking.” His voice was light and teasing, but she looked away, a tear rolling down her cheek. “Amanda,” he chastised gently. “Please. You are breaking my heart.”
“I’m sorry,” she managed to say. “I’m embarrassed.”
At this, he merely shook his head and started spraying the medicine on her back and shoulders. Immediately, everything cooled and she felt some degree of relief, although her skin still felt tight.
“Better?”
She nodded.
“Good. Now lay back on the pillows and rest, my naughty Princesa. It will feel poorly in the morning, but by nightfall, it will start feeling better.” He set the spray on the nightstand and stood up. “I will have Señora Perez bring you fresh water and a painkiller, too. You need to stay hydrated.” He started to walk toward the door.
“Alejandro?” she said, still avoiding his eyes.
He paused at the door, his hand on the doorknob. “¿Sí?”
Sitting on the bed and clutching the front of her dress, she turned to look at him. Her eyes met his, and she felt a rush of emotion. He had not once said a cross word about her having disobeyed his order. He had taken care of her. He had gotten medicine for her sunburn. “Danke.”
The hint of a smile crossed his lips. “You’re welcome,” he said as he opened the door and slipped outside.
Her mother was sick. It was the flu. She had spent a good three days in bed, feverish and sweating. She couldn’t eat. She couldn’t do much more than sleep. Anna and Amanda had done all they could to keep the house in order and to take care of their younger brother.
At supper, their daed was silent, often glancing at the place where his wife usually sat. It was empty, and he didn’t seem to care for that one bit. It made him nervous that Lizzie was ill. By the fourth day, he couldn’t take it anymore. No sooner had they finished the silent prayer over the food than he had excused himself and disappeared out the kitchen door, leaving his three children to stare after him in wonder. Elias returned an hour later with a doctor. An Englische doctor who made house calls to the Amish.
“But, Daed,” Anna had said, her voice a whisper so that she didn’t offend the visitor. “An Englische doctor? What will the bishop say?”
Elias had hushed his oldest daughter with a wave of his hand and led the doctor up the stairs to the bedroom.
By the following afternoon, the medicine that the doctor had left for Lizzie seemed to start working. Two days later, she was able to come downstairs and sit in the kitchen for short spells. And the following day, she managed to sit at the table for supper with the family. While her appetite wasn’t back in full force yet, she managed to eat a little of the food.
Amanda was amazed at the transformation in her father. He was no longer jittery and nervous. Instead, he acted as he always had during the evening meal. But once, just once, he looked up at his wife, and when she met his gaze, he smiled ever so slightly before looking away, returning his attention to his food.
He had challenged the Ordnung by reaching out to the Englische for help. It wasn’t that others didn’t do it, but it was frowned upon. However, Amanda realized that her father had chosen to care for his wife over following the church. It was at that moment when she knew that her father truly loved her mother in a way that she had never really considered before.
It was a love that she hoped she’d be able to find herself one day.
It was around one in the morning when she awoke. Her skin still hurt but not as bad as earlier in the evening. She managed to sit up in bed, listening to the noise that had awoken her. Music and laughter. Splashing and singing. She got out of bed and padded across the white carpet toward the window. Pulling back the curtain, she looked outside and was shocked to see the backyard filled with people.
Alejandro’s party.
If she had thought the party the previous night was large, this one was enormous in comparison. She tried to find Alejandro in the crowd but couldn’t. There were too many people. For a while, she sat in the chair and watched, amazed at the festivities. Part of her felt envious that she wasn’t able to participate. However, she knew that it wasn’t just her sunburn that kept her from the party. It was her morals.
Women and men were drinking. Everyone was dancing. Some people were swimming, and Amanda wasn’t entirely certain that the women were wearing complete bathing suits. Debauchery, she thought as she let the curtain fall to hide the scene.
The noise didn’t die down until well after three o’clock. She had tried to go back to sleep but hadn’t been able to do so. Twice she had gone back to the window to peer outside. As the crowd thinned, she finally saw Alejandro. He wasn’t alone. That tall blond woman, Maria, was glued to his side. At one point, Alejandro had his arm around her and was singing, a small crowd standing around them and laughing, cheering him on.
Disgusted, Amanda forced herself to go back to bed and covered her head with a pillow. She hadn’t cared for that Maria the night before. Maria had barely greeted her when they were introduced before she slipped into Spanish, purposefully excluding Amanda from the conversation. Now she knew that she couldn’t trust her at all.
She heard his door open and glanced at the clock. Four in the morning. It was so late, but she was wide-awake. She sat up in bed, listening to him moving around in the room next door. His phone rang. Then, his voice muffled; he was talking to someone.
Curious, she got out of bed, grabbed her simple white robe, and made her way to the door that separated their rooms. When she heard him end the call, she hesitated. She wanted to talk to him, to ask him about that woman and the people. But she didn’t want to appear too bold.
A soft knock on the door surprised her. Frowning, she reached for the doorknob, but the door opened before she could turn the handle.
“You are up?”
“Ja,” she said, pulling her robe close to her chest, ignoring the pain on her shoulders. She reached her hand up to make certain that her hair was still pinned back. “How did you know?”
He smiled and leaned against the door frame. “Your light shone from under the door,” he stated.
She blushed. He had known she was up and probably suspected she was on the other side of the door. “It’s late,” she said meekly.
Reaching out his hand for her, he beckoned her to come close. She resisted and he laughed. “Amanda,” he said. His words sounded strange and the expression on his face was different. Serene and peaceful but also relaxed. “Come stay with me tonight,” he said. “I promise . . .”
She s
hook her head. “You know that I can’t.”
Taking her hand, he ignored her protest and pulled her into his room. “You can, sí,” he said, his eyes dancing at her. “I just want to hold you, to sleep with you in my arms.”
“Alejandro . . .” she protested. “That’s just not proper.”
He waved his other hand at her. “There’s nothing improper about it.” He pulled her farther into the room and toward the bed. “I need you,” he implored. Kicking off his shoes, he sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her close. “I missed you tonight,” he said, leaning his head against her stomach.
Not knowing what to say or do, she put her hands on his shoulders. She could feel the muscles beneath his silk shirt, immediately hating the thoughts that started to flood through her mind. “You shouldn’t have missed me,” she said. “You were surrounded by your friends.”
He sighed, relaxing against her. “But it is you, Amanda . . . you that I wanted near me. You aren’t like them. You don’t want anything from me.” He paused. “You’re simply . . . perfect.” His voice grew quiet, and Amanda pulled away. She helped him into the bed and pulled the sheets up, covering his chest. He held her hand and, with bloodshot and weary eyes, tried to look at her. “Stay with me.”
“Go to sleep, Alejandro,” she said gently.
When she heard his breathing deepen, she released his hand and smoothed the sheets over him. For a moment, she stood back and looked down at him, sleeping in the bed with a peaceful look on his face. Leaning over, she gently brushed her lips against his forehead before she turned off the light on the nightstand and tiptoed back to her own room, carefully shutting the door behind herself so as not to wake him from his much-needed slumber.