by Sarah Price
Downstairs, people were already gathered in the backyard. Unlike Alejandro’s other parties, the people were dressed in much fancier clothing. Men wore suits or tuxedos, and the women wore pretty designer dresses. Amanda stood in the kitchen door, her hand nervously touching her hair to make certain that her bun was still in place and that no strands had come loose.
“¡Qué linda!”
Amanda turned around, surprised to hear Señora Perez behind her. “You startled me,” Amanda said with a slightly nervous laugh.
“You look beautiful,” she said in her thick, broken English. “But let me fix your hair.” Before Amanda could protest, Señora Perez was poking at her hair, sticking something into her bun. “There! ¡Perfecto!”
Again, Amanda reached her hand to her hair and was surprised to feel several small flowers tucked into the bun. She blushed, not used to such attention, certainly never having put flowers in her hair. “That’s so fancy,” she mumbled, mostly to herself, for Señora Perez was already guiding her out the door.
“There she is!” Alejandro called out. He was standing with a group of people, a glass of champagne in his hand. Leaving the people, he hurried to meet Amanda on the steps of the patio. With a grand sweep of his arm, he gave her a slight bow before taking her hand in his and lifting it to his lips. As he did this, his eyes swept over her and he sighed. “Stunning,” he whispered so that only she could hear. He turned her around, admiring the flowers in her hair and the way that the dress’s flared hemline danced around her ankles.
She felt as if she was on display, and it made her feel uncomfortable.
“There’s Amanda,” Alejandro said once again, turning back to the guests. They watched the show with a mixture of adoration and amusement at the charming Alejandro. “My future bride,” he announced, lifting his arm in the air and making a broad, exaggerated sweep before her. To Amanda’s dismay, the people began to applaud, and she wished the earth would open up and simply swallow her whole.
He helped her down the patio steps and guided her through the crowd and toward the cabana. She recognized his family, his mother and uncles. She saw Justin and Celinda, smiling from across the patio. She even noticed his regular entourage, Miguel and Little Juan. Surprisingly, she didn’t see Maria or her pack of friends. For that, she was grateful.
Once at the cabana, he turned around and smiled at the crowd. “To celebrate our engagement,” he said loudly, “I have a surprise for Amanda. I have written a new song, and it is being released tonight. But before it is released, I wanted to sing it here . . . to Amanda . . . in front of all of you.”
As if on cue, music started and the crowd began to laugh, applauding at the lively beat that surrounded them from the outdoor speakers. Amanda stood there, by herself, while Alejandro transformed in front of her eyes. For a moment, she was back at one of the concerts, listening to him sing in front of thousands of people, hearing them cheer and stare at him with complete adoration.
Then he began to sing.
“Living on the road, life on the stage,” he started, his voice strong and poetic. The crowd began to clap, swaying back and forth in rhythm to the music. “Never thought ’bout love. Just living day to day.” He moved away from her, dancing and laughing as the people danced with him. Even Amanda smiled, watching him as he sang and danced. He was enjoying himself.
“Singing in the booth, moving state to state. VIPs and private jets. Never thought ’bout fate.” He paused and glanced over his shoulder at Amanda. “Plain fame. It was all my game. Traveling ’round the world. Never thought to change. Women come and go. Never think twice. The last thing on my mind, thinkin’ ’bout a wife.”
Several men cheered at that part of the song, and Amanda frowned. Alejandro moved back toward her, reaching out for her hand.
“Life has its own plan, not much we can do. God gave me my princesa. How could I help but fall for you?” He pulled her close and stared down at her face, his eyes sparkling and full of life.
“Plain fame. Not worth the name. Not if it means you won’t share the same. Plain change, that’s my new life, but only with my love beside me as my wife!”
The crowd of people cheered, and Alejandro put the microphone down, the music still playing in the background as he caressed Amanda’s face. She tried to look away, embarrassed by so much attention, but he tilted her chin and forced her to look back at him.
“You like your wedding song, sí?” he asked, with that familiar sly smile on his face.
Amanda frowned. “Wedding song?”
He kissed the back of her hands, then leaned down, whispering softly into her ear, “Sí, Princesa. Today is your wedding.” He paused before correcting himself. “Our wedding day.”
Confused, she looked around at the people. They were Alejandro’s friends and family, business associates, and other singers, some of whom had flown in from New York and California. Everyone was smiling. Everyone was waiting, watching for her reaction to the bigger surprise of the evening.
“But . . .” It dawned on her what he had done. And in that moment of clarity, she looked away, fighting the tears that threatened to slip from her eyes.
He pulled her into his arms, ignoring the people around them. They were smiling, all of them having been told in advance about the surprise ceremony. All of them, except Amanda. “Now you have planned the perfect Englische wedding, no?”
“Oh, Alejandro,” she managed to say, choking back a sob.
Indeed, without telling her, he had helped her plan her own wedding. He had kept her busy, hiring people to assist her, but by not telling her, he had removed all of the stress and pressure of wedding planning. And even more important, he had followed several of the Amish traditions. From the three-week time period after announcing their engagement to the pale blue dress he had given her to wear, there were elements of Amish mixed with the Englische.
And suddenly, he was leading her toward a clearing on the patio where a man stood in a suit. On either side of the area were tall white vases with white and blue flowers. He held her hand as they stood there, before the people who had gathered to celebrate, and she heard a flurry of words that barely made sense to her. She was in a dream, nothing making sense, as Alejandro stood next to her, nodding at the words and making his commitment to love, honor, and cherish Amanda until death do them part.
Amanda sat next to her bruder, watching as the bishop stood before the congregation, the young bride wearing a pale blue dress with white apron and cape and the young groom in his Sunday best. They had just sat through almost three hours of sermon and singing. Now was the time for the marriage ceremony.
“Do you confess, brother, that you wish to take our fellow sister as your wedded wife, and not to part from her until death separates you? Do you believe this is from the Lord and that through your faith and prayers you have been able to come this far?”
Aaron shifted on the hard wooden bench, fidgeting as he sat next to her. He should have been seated with the men but had snuck over to where Amanda sat in the back with the other young, unmarried women. He was too old to be sitting with the women, but Amanda made room for him anyway.
He leaned over and whispered to her, “Will I have to do this someday?”
She smiled and touched his knee to silence him, but she nodded at his question.
“Will you and Anna?”
Amanda lowered her head. “Shh!”
“Is Anna going to marry that boy who keeps bringing her home?”
Amanda gave a quick roll of her eyes and whispered, “If God wills it, mayhaps next year.”
He groaned. “We’ll have to do this again next year?”
She had to stifle a giggle at his impatience. She imagined that, for a twelve-year-old boy, sitting through such a long service, on a Thursday of all days, was painful. He’d rather be anywhere but at church during the week. She had felt the same way when sh
e was younger. But, now that she was old enough to attend singings and watch her friends pair up with Amish men, she began to feel a shift in her heart.
She watched the bride as she nodded her head to the bishop when it was her turn to answer the same questions.
Amanda knew that the wedding party would continue until early evening. There would be food all afternoon, singing of hymns, and a general feeling of fellowship as the community and family gathered to celebrate this union—a forever union. That evening, the newlyweds would stay at the bride’s parents’ home in order to help clean up and reorganize the house in the morning. For the next few months, they would live apart, only seeing each other on the weekends. Come spring, if they were lucky, he’d find a farm or house where they could live and begin their married life together. And, of course, by the following winter, there would most likely be a baby.
It was all so romantic, Amanda thought. If only it might happen to her one day.
Unlike with the other parties at Alejandro’s condominium, people began to leave shortly after midnight. Amanda stood by his side, saying good-bye to people she had never met before and wondering whether she would ever see them again. She was dazed and in shock, her heart beating inside her chest as she replayed the events from the evening.
The song. The justice of the peace. The vows. The kiss.
It wasn’t real, she thought. It was a dream. Perhaps all of it was a dream and she was still living a simple and plain life on her parents’ farm in Pennsylvania, miles and miles away from the tall palm trees and blue skies of Miami, and certainly a world away from the life she had just married into.
Amanda Diaz. It didn’t even sound Amish.
In all of her life, she never would have been able to imagine that this was how it would turn out. She never thought she’d leave the Amish. She never thought she’d move away from Pennsylvania. And she certainly never imagined getting married to such a man as Alejandro Diaz in front of over two hundred people of whom none was either family or friend from her side.
Everything seemed unusually quiet when the last guests finally left. Alejandro stood at the front door, his back toward her for just a moment. She watched him, wondering what he was thinking. His shoulders lifted and fell as he took a deep breath before he turned around and looked at her.
“Wife,” he whispered, a hint of a smile on his lips.
“Husband,” she replied playfully, despite the pounding of her heart inside her chest.
He crossed the room in three strides and pulled her into his arms. For a long moment, he stared down at her, his eyes studying her face. Then he leaned down and nuzzled at her neck. “You are so amazing, Amanda Diaz,” he said, his warm breath caressing her ear. “I hope you thought tonight was perfect.”
She shut her eyes, feeling the power of his arms around her. With her cheek pressed against his shoulder, she felt safe and protected. “Perfect,” she whispered.
“It’s not over yet,” he whispered back, and she squeezed her eyes shut, fear and apprehension flooding through her. “Come,” he commanded, and holding her hand while looking at her, he led her up the stairs and toward his bedroom.
Outside the bedroom, he stepped aside and pushed the door open so that she could walk through first. She hesitated, biting her lower lip and looking up at him. His eyes glanced over her head and into the room. “Go,” he urged softly. “See what I have done.”
The room was aglow with candles, dozens and dozens, perhaps hundreds of candles. Almost every surface of every piece of furniture was covered with white roses in an assortment of vases. The room smelled heavenly, the sweet scent of flowers mixed with the musky odor of candles. She gasped when she saw it, clasping her hands before her chest and taking a step inside the room.
“Alejandro!” she gushed, looking around. It was magnificent, truly amazing to see the white petals basking in the orange glow of the flames. “It’s . . .” She glanced at him. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen!”
He crossed the room toward a silver champagne bucket, and without saying a word, he popped the cork and poured two glasses of the bubbly golden liquid. When he handed the tall, fluted crystal glass to her, he lifted his own in a silent toast, his eyes meeting hers and urging her to sip her champagne.
She did.
He reached up with one hand and untied his bow tie, pulling it free from the shirt collar and casually tossing it onto a chair. “Come here,” he demanded, his voice low and husky with his eyelids half lowered as he regarded her. “I want you to unbutton my shirt, Amanda.”
“I . . .”
“Do it,” he said.
She felt faint as she took the two steps required to stand before him. He reached for her champagne glass, freeing up her hands to touch the top button of his shirt. There were little black-and-gold buttons, and she frowned, never having seen anything like that before. “I’m not certain I know how,” she said, horrified at her own admission.
He smiled, chuckling to himself. “Here,” he said, handing her the champagne glasses so that he could undo the strange buttons. When they were off, he slid his arms out of the shirt and tossed it by the bow tie on the chair. He dropped the buttons into his pants pocket and reached out for the champagne glass that she was holding for him. He stood before her in his black tuxedo pants and white sleeveless undershirt, his eyes smoldering as he watched her, like a cat watching a bird before it pounces.
“Your turn,” he whispered.
“I . . .” The words caught in her throat. This is not happening, she told herself.
“Your shoes,” he said, trying to not laugh at the look on her face. “I meant your shoes.”
“Oh,” she said. It was easy to kick off the simple heels with rhinestone straps over the toes.
“Isn’t that better?” he teased. He knew how much she preferred to go barefoot. If only he knew how fast her heart was beating inside her chest, she thought.
He motioned toward the side of the bed, gesturing for her to sit down. When she did, her eyes wide and staring at him, he knelt before her and took the champagne glass from her hand, setting both glasses on the nightstand among the vases of flowers. Turning back to her, he ran a finger down her arm and took her hand in his. Gently, he squeezed it, staring at the new shining ring on her finger.
“I want you to know,” he started to say, an edge to his voice, his eyes still on her ring, his thumb gently playing with it. She looked down at his hand in hers, realizing that she was staring at the hand of her husband, a man who would never know the hardship of daily farmwork or milking of cows. Instead, this was the hand of a man who made magic with his voice and words, his smile and gestures, his looks and image. But he was, indeed, her husband.
“I want you to know,” he began again, “how very happy you make me, Amanda.” He leaned down and kissed the ring. “I never thought this day would happen.” He glanced up at her. “I never thought I, of all people, would ever get married.”
She wanted to say something, but the look in his blue eyes stopped her.
“You changed all of that,” he said, a slight smile on his lips. “These past few weeks . . . well, they haven’t been easy on me,” he said. “I’m not used to waiting for and wanting someone the way I have waited for and wanted you.” He squeezed her hand again. “I had to remove myself from the condo, from you, in order to protect you.”
Protect her? She frowned, not understanding. “From what?”
“From me,” he admitted in a low, sensual voice that mirrored the look in his eyes. “You don’t know how I feel around you, Princesa. What I want when I am near you. You don’t know what you do to me. And that’s the beauty of it. You simply . . . don’t know.” He reached out and touched her cheek. There was something about the way that he looked at her, his expression so serious and pensive, as if he had something on his mind. With a slight hesitation, as if lost in thought, he gave her a
soft smile. “I’m sorry for being distant. It will never happen again.”
She pressed her cheek against his hand and shut her eyes. “I thought you had changed your mind,” she whispered. “I was afraid you had stopped loving me.”
He laughed, a deep, rich-sounding laugh. He stood up, pulling her so that she stood before him, and he wrapped his arms around her. “Dios mío, Princesa. I could never stop loving you,” he sighed, breathing in the scent of her hair. He nuzzled at her neck and reached up, his hand gently plucking the white flowers from around her bun. He took a small step back and placed them in her hand, smiling as she glanced down at the white rosebuds.
Covering her hand with his, he gave her a gentle tug while turning her around. “Just stand in front of the mirror, Princesa,” he murmured. When she was facing away from him, her back pressed against his chest, she found herself in front of a tall mirror. Her eyes stared at the reflection. What she saw startled her.
Mirror people. A man and a woman. A husband and a wife. Alejandro and herself.
He had his hands on her shoulders, bare under the fabric of the Chanel dress. He was taller than she was, and she could see him peering at her, his blue eyes dancing and sparkling in the mirror. He reached up and began to pull at the bobby pins in her hair. As each pin slid out from her hair, she felt a shiver run up her spine until she finally shut her eyes, not wanting to watch the mirror people anymore.
“Look,” he said as her hair tumbled down her back. With his fingers, he combed through it and pushed some over her one shoulder. “You are beautiful, Amanda Diaz.”
At his command, she opened her eyes, but she didn’t look at herself. Instead, she stared at him. His hands rubbed her shoulders, the touch of his skin against hers setting her on fire.
“Qué dulce,” he murmured into her ear. He lifted her hair away from her neck and ran his lips against her skin.
Fire ran through her blood, and she shut her eyes, leaning back against him as she felt his hand carefully slide the thin strap of the dress over one shoulder, pausing to caress her skin before he removed the other strap. With both of her shoulders bare, she shivered under his touch.