by Sarah Price
“Good, good,” Mike replied as he flipped through several pieces of paper that he had pulled from his briefcase. “And of the South American countries . . . Brazil is your most popular by far. They’ve asked if you can add another date in São Paulo.”
Alejandro let his head fall back, resting against the headrest, and sighed. He waved his hand. “Sure, whatever,” he mumbled. “Might as well if we are already there, no?” Out of the corner of his eye, he looked at Mike. “But make certain that there are some open days, sí? I want to show Amanda the country.”
There was a moment of silence and more papers ruffling. The noise sounded loud in the quiet of the car. Outside the SUV, the lights of the highway glowed orange, and the farther the vehicle traveled, the more Alejandro felt himself unwind. Within a few hours, he would be in Chicago, where he was scheduled to perform a Friday night concert, and then, once again, he’d fly overnight to the next destination: St. Paul. By Sunday, he’d be back in Los Angeles where he had three days to work in the recording studio and meet with the executives of the record label.
It was relentless, this schedule. During the peak of the concert season, he would perform four to five nights a week, usually on a Tuesday night and then over the weekend. Depending on the location, he would perform Thursday through Sunday, often traveling at night to the next city. This upcoming break in Los Angeles would be a welcome respite.
“We scheduled you for the Teen Choice Music Awards event,” Mike mentioned. “Don’t forget about that.”
“When is it again?”
“Before Thanksgiving.”
That was another busy week. With concerts in New York, appearances on morning news shows, interviews with talk show hosts, and a ride on a Thanksgiving Day float where he was to perform his new hit song, “Love Over Fame,” the week would be downright exhausting.
When the SUV pulled into the airport, Alejandro let security guide him through the practically empty building. He went through the routine security check, then hurried down the corridor toward the airport gate. Two flight attendants smiled as he approached them, one brazenly asking for a photo. With a tired smile, Alejandro obliged before he was down a narrow set of stairs, through a doorway, and across the tarmac toward the private jet, a Gulfstream G650, that was waiting for him and his small entourage.
The pilot greeted him as he boarded the plane. Alejandro managed to spare another smile and shook the pilot’s hand before hurrying to the closest seat. The leather seat shifted under his weight as he sank down, sighing heavily as he did.
A thin blonde approached him, a drink already in her hand, which she set down on the table before him. He smiled his appreciation and reached for it as Mike slid into the seat across from him, “I’ll have one, too,” said the manager, barely looking at the woman. “We need to go over the recording schedule for LA, Alex,” he said as he dug into his briefcase.
Three more men entered the plane: two were security guards and the other was Carlos, Alejandro’s personal aide. As Carlos walked past Alejandro, he slid a bag under the table by his feet. Exhaling, Alejandro reached down and, after digging into the bag, pulled out his laptop. He set it on the table and flipped the top open. “Jason booked the studio, sí?”
“First thing on Monday,” Mike replied. There was a brief delay as the men were settled before two more people joined them on the plane. Alejandro looked up and nodded his head at the newcomers, a man and a woman, who nodded back but continued to tap away at their phones.
“What’s the plan for tomorrow, Mike?” Alejandro asked as the door to the plane was shut and the engines began to rev up as part of the preflight check. The plane shuddered, just a bit, and the lights blinked off for a split second.
“Let’s see,” Mike mumbled, glancing through another stack of papers. “Chicago’s schedule . . . Morning radio at seven thirty, a magazine reporter at eleven, another at two o’clock, and sound check at five.”
He groaned. It was going to be another long day, preceded by a sleepless night. “What time do we land, anyway? One? Two?”
“And you’re scheduled for a radio interview on Saturday in the morning when we get into St. Paul,” Mike added, ignoring Alejandro’s question about their arrival time in Chicago.
“On a Saturday?”
“Hey! They’re doing us a favor, Alex,” Mike retorted, an edge to his voice. “Recording it for their Monday show. Be grateful.”
Rolling his eyes, Alejandro ignored his manager, despite thinking how easy it was for Mike to remind him to be grateful. After all, Mike wasn’t the one who pulled eighteen-hour days of nonstop performances, whether for interviewers or crowds. It was a ruthless schedule, one that he had come to thrive on in the past, but now, without Amanda by his side, he felt something hollow growing inside him.
He reached inside his pocket for his cell phone. With a single swipe of his finger, he checked to see if there were any messages from her. None. It was after midnight. The flight wouldn’t land until after one in the morning. By the time they were settled in the hotel, he imagined it would be close to two. He’d have no more than four hours of sleep, at best, followed by a full day with very little downtime.
He caught sight of Carlos and stretched so that he could see him. “You sent those flowers to Amanda, sí?”
Carlos gave him a thumbs-up. “Sí, Viper! Confirmed; they arrived at three.”
He wondered why she hadn’t texted him, to let him know that she had received them. He quickly sent her a message, knowing that, by the time she read it, he’d be on his way to the radio station in the morning, his eyes tired from the lack of sleep and a cup of hot coffee in his hand to perk him up.
“Alejandro,” Mike said, in a concerted effort at remaining patient. “Can we talk business here? I won’t get to see you tomorrow.”
“¡Ay, mi madre!” He turned back in his seat and scowled at his manager. “What is it with you, Mike?” His blue eyes burned with anger and the muscles in his cheek tensed. “What exactly do we have to talk about? We talk every day, all day! I just wanted to check that my wife received the flowers! ¡Dios mío!”
Holding up his hands as if in self-defense, Mike returned the harsh look. “Easy there, Alex! Just trying to keep you focused.”
“Keep yourself focused,” he snapped back, returning his attention to his laptop.
A silence fell over the sitting area of the plane; the other people busied themselves with their smartphones or perused through magazines. They kept their eyes down and avoided Alejandro at all costs. He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know what they were doing. They had worked with him long enough to know that, when pushed near the edge, Alejandro fought back. And when he fought back, he fought back hard with the usual result that heads rolled.
Chapter Three
Danke for finding Harvey.
He’s such a good worker.
How was the concert last night?
Waiting to hear from you.
<3
A.
As she walked outside, Amanda pulled the black shawl that was slung across her shoulders tighter over the front of her dress. It was cold outside, and the sky was gray. The sun had not risen yet, despite the early-morning hour. She missed the blue skies of Miami and the smell of fresh sea air that permeated the penthouse where she lived with Alejandro, even though the sounds of the farm and smell of the cows comforted her. Whenever a horse-drawn buggy rolled down the road, she paused and lifted her head, listening to the musical humming of the wheels against the macadam. Yes, she had missed that, too.
“Gut mariye,” she said as she greeted Harvey. He was already in the barn, tending to the morning milking. A soft-spoken man but reliable, that was how Amanda would have described Harvey, had anyone asked. But she had no one to speak to. Not even Alejandro.
It had been two days since they had spoken on the telephone. With his concerts ending so late at night and then having to travel to other locations, he certainly slept until early afternoon. Aman
da knew too well how taxing the concerts and the constant travel were on him, both physically and emotionally. When she was going to bed at night, he was just starting his work. Their schedules were too diverse, and she doubted that she would hear from him yet again today.
That realization saddened her.
Each morning, she’d glance at the calendar and try to figure out what Alejandro was doing that day. She knew he had finished recording in Los Angeles and thought he was now in Boston for two nights before heading to Providence for a Sunday night concert. After that, he would be in New York for almost a week. That had been the plan. But she never knew for certain since his itinerary could change at a moment’s notice.
Soon it would be Thanksgiving, and he was scheduled to perform in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, whatever that was. And then, two more concerts in New York City: one on Friday and another Saturday. There would be more concerts after that: Houston, Milwaukee, Kansas City, and then back to Los Angeles for the Jingle Ball concert. There were a couple of weeks for a break before he was scheduled to return to New York City to ring in the new year at Times Square.
It was a grueling schedule, but when she had looked at the travel dates for the next year, she found herself in shock over where he would perform: countries in almost every continent. Some countries would include performances in multiple cities, Brazil in particular. When she had looked over the list, she had commented on the European leg of his tour.
“How is this possible?” she had asked, trying to understand the logistics behind all those dates and places listed on the schedule.
“¿Qué?” He had been flipping through some papers, numbers from recent concerts, when she had asked the question. “What are you looking at, Princesa?”
She had pointed to the paper. “This schedule. It’s . . . it’s . . .”
He had glanced at it and laughed. “Grueling, no?”
“Ja!” With a shake of her head, she had started reading it out loud. “Russia, Norway, Germany, and Sweden. All in one week?” He had continued laughing. “The next week, Finland, Poland, Croatia, and England.” She had tossed the paper onto the table. “My word! I’ve never even heard of some of these places! Croatia?”
Now, just thinking about his schedule exhausted her. When she had traveled with him, she hadn’t noticed how hectic the travel was. She just went along, not really paying attention to where they were going next. It was easier being on the inside looking out than on the outside looking in. Indeed, the more she thought about it, the more she realized she would barely be able to keep up with his innumerable flights, cities, and commitments. It was too hard to remember where he was staying and when he was leaving. She only wished that she could be with him.
In silence, Amanda began to move down the line of cows, trying to focus on the task at hand rather than the pain in her heart. She leaned her cheek against the warmth of the cow as she started milking her, breathing in the musky scent of the cow’s hide as the machine worked the udder.
“Think she’s done,” a voice said from behind her.
Amanda looked up, her thoughts interrupted. “Hmm?” She was surprised that Harvey had spoken to her. He was usually so quiet that she often forgot he was even there.
He gestured toward the cow. “No more milk there,” he said.
Quickly, Amanda looked down and, realizing that she had been daydreaming, laughed at her own mistake. The machine was drawing air at this point, and the cow was stomping her back hoof impatiently. “I reckon you’re right,” she said lightly, and quickly moved on to the next cow.
The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon when she heard the sound of an approaching buggy driving down the lane toward the house. She stood up and tried to peer out the open door, but the driver had stopped the buggy just on the other side. She looked over at Harvey. “Need to see who that is, I reckon.”
“I can finish up,” was his simple reply.
The bishop and the deacon were standing together by the buggy when she emerged from the dairy barn. It hadn’t really surprised her that they would visit, just that it had taken so long.
“Gut mariye,” she called out, trying to sound friendly. She knew that the visit was not going to be pleasant, but she had been bracing for this moment since her return to the farm.
The bishop leveled his gaze at her, a stern look on his face. She had never realized how austere he looked prior to that moment, an awareness that took her by surprise, especially when she realized that she was not intimidated. With his long white beard and dark clothing, there was a suggestion of authority to the man. Yet, she had always been taught that God was the true authority for all humankind. The sudden and unexpected awareness of how his image conflicted with what she had been taught all of her life shocked her. Only time and distance could have shown her the truth behind the impression that he presented.
Whatever happened to And whosoever will be chief among you, let him be your servant? she found herself wondering, too aware of the sarcasm within her thought process.
“Amanda,” the bishop said as acknowledgment, his eyes cold and piercing. “I trust your mother is inside?”
“Ja,” Amanda replied, trying not to sound too unaffected by his presence. Humility, she told herself. Even if forced, it was better to be perceived as humble with the bishop standing before her and inquiring about her mamm. “She’ll be leaving for the hospital to visit with Daed later. They say he’s to come home soon.”
The fact that he did not frighten her, at least not for her sake, would not bode well for her parents. She remembered only too well how it was not that long ago that the bishop had insisted that she leave the community. He had wanted her to relocate the problem of the paparazzi to Ohio, far too willing to let another community deal with the stress of sudden fame for one of their members, a fame that had neither been sought nor wanted.
Now that she had returned, what would the bishop demand this time? She couldn’t help but wonder why he had come to visit. She had been home almost two weeks now without any hint of support from the g’may. While that had surprised her, she had come to realize that the safety and protection of the community as a whole outweighed the needs of any individual.
As she gestured toward the house, indicating that they should follow her there in order to speak with her mamm, the two men nodded but did not speak. They shared no words expressing relief that Elias was going to be all right or that he was well enough to return to the farm. No hints of gratitude that Amanda had returned to help her family or that her husband had hired a local man to work the dairy. Instead, the cold looks on their faces told Amanda all that she needed to know: once again, this was not a social visit.
Inside the house, Lizzie was bustling about the kitchen, cleaning the morning dishes before her hired driver would arrive as scheduled each morning to pick her up for the twenty-minute drive to Lancaster General Hospital. With such a distance between the hospital and the farm, she wouldn’t be returning until later that evening and wanted to finish her morning chores before leaving.
Amanda knew, however, that her mamm was really just trying to keep busy while she waited for the driver. Most of the chores would fall on Amanda’s shoulders while her mamm stayed by her husband’s side, holding his hand or reading from the Budget, while they waited for doctors to complete tests or share information. Amanda would do the house cleaning and laundry by herself before retreating outside to help the hired man with some of the barn chores.
At night, she was exhausted, but she enjoyed the work. How different, she had thought just the previous evening, from my life in Miami. In Miami, she had little work to do since Señora Perez ran the household. The days had passed by at a leisurely pace, often with Amanda waiting for Alejandro to awaken after long nights or return from business in Miami proper. After their marriage, she had lounged in his arms, despite being wide-awake as the sun cast an orange blush through the window curtains. Neither wanting to awaken him nor to leave his embrace, she had often l
ain there for hours until he stirred.
Now, as she was back at her parents’ farm working, she found that hard work—physical labor—helped pass the time. Her body ached at night, but her mind felt at peace. She much preferred the hard work to sitting in the hospital at her daed’s bedside, now that she knew he would be all right.
When her mamm heard the door open, she called out, “Done already then, Amanda? Mayhaps you’ll ride along with me to the hospital?”
“Mamm,” Amanda said softly, glancing over her shoulder at the two men who were close on her heels. “Bishop’s here.”
The visitors entered the room and removed their hats, standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen. The bishop’s stern eyes stared at Amanda with her dark plaid dress that was gathered at the waist. Her head was uncovered, exposing her hair, which was pulled back into a neat but braided bun at the nape of her neck. Over her shoulders, she wore a simple knit sweater and tall boots under the skirt of the dress.
His stare sent a chill through Amanda. The judgment that she could already feel from the bishop caused her to tilt her chin defiantly. Had it only been six months ago that whatever the bishop said was immediately taken as gospel by Amanda? Now, as she faced him for the second time in the same time period, she saw him in a new light. A very different one.
No longer did she fear the bishop and what he could do to her. Since she had chosen to not take the kneeling vow, the bishop did not make decisions for her. She was also steadfast in her acceptance that he would not frighten her away from her familial responsibilities. Her actions would not change, and this despite the bishop’s hints that her presence would injure her parents, from both a social and a religious perspective. No, Amanda told herself, she had come home to help, and home was where she was going to stay, for the moment.
“We were surprised to hear that you had returned,” the bishop started, his expression stern, but something in his eyes told her that he had become aware that Amanda was no longer intimidated by him. It was clear that her confidence unnerved him. It was not something that he was used to, not when facing his people. “And with you, those Englische men with their cars clogging the road and their cameras stealing our photos!”