by Sarah Price
Once the show began and the majority of lights were on the stage, he let his mind wander back to the summer on the Beiler farm. He could almost feel the sun on his face and hear the rustling of the corn in the fields. Even the smell of freshly cut hay pervaded his memory. That one week had felt like a month to him, a month of peace and tranquility. And it had ended far too soon.
On the day he had left, he hated leaving Amanda behind. While he hadn’t realized that he loved her, he had known that she was special, the type of woman that he would have wanted to get serious with if their lives were a little less extreme in their differences. He had never imagined that she would leave the Amish, never imagined that he would return to fetch her. Yet, when he had seen her on the television, those eyes pleading into the camera, he knew that she was reaching out to him, and he had dropped everything to rescue her.
Even then he hadn’t realized that he was falling for her. His intentions had been honorable: take her away, let the furor die down, then bring her back to Lancaster to continue her future among the Amish. Life, however, had a funny way of stepping in and derailing the good intention train. Before he had known it, he had fallen for the dark-haired, dark-eyed Amish girl with her innocent outlook on life . . . his life in particular. The thought of not having her beside him, a man who had vowed to never get married, drove him mad at night as he slept alone.
He had never expected to fall in love, and certainly not with someone like Amanda. But then again, he had never met anyone like her. God had brought them together through the accident in order to ensure that two soul mates from the most unlikely backgrounds found each other.
Someone nudged him from behind his seat. Alejandro jumped, just a little, and turned around to see Celinda Ruiz sitting there. She smiled at him and gestured with her head toward the stage.
“It is with great honor tonight that, for the first time at the Teen Choice Music Awards, we have four nominations for our brand-new Latino Artist of the Year Award. It’s an award that was long in coming, and with such an impressive pool of talent, the nominations were certainly hard to narrow down,” the announcer said into the microphone. “Tonight, the nominations for Latino Artist of the Year are . . .”
Alejandro sat straight in his seat, knowing that the camera would pan to him when his name was called. He listened to the first three names, recognizing the irony that he had recorded songs with two of them. In a cutthroat industry, Alejandro had strived to avoid the typical backstabbing among the artists. That didn’t mean, however, that others played by the same rule.
“And the fourth nomination is . . . Viper!”
The audience applauded and a few cheered from the back rows and balcony. Alejandro smiled, nodding his head toward the camera and lifting his hand in acknowledgment.
The announcer waited for the applause to die down before he shuffled the envelope in his hand to begin opening it. “And the award for the Latino Artist of the Year goes to . . .” There was a long pause, drawn out for more impact than was necessary. Alejandro sat there, staring straight ahead, dreading the moment whether he won or not. Either way, he would be judged on his reaction by the millions of television viewers who were tuned into the show.
“Viper!”
Alejandro paused for a moment, replaying the winner’s name in his head to make certain he had heard correctly. When the people seated in front of him turned to smile in his direction, he knew that he had. He shook the hands of the people immediately surrounding his seat as he stood and made his way toward the stage to collect his award.
He had won previous awards during his career, but this was a special one. As a new award, it not only recognized the importance of contributions from the Latino community to the music industry but also proved that Viper was crossing into heretofore uncharted populations: not just Americans but also younger Americans!
He felt the heat from the lights on his face as he accepted the trophy, a large multicolored surfboard, and stepped toward the microphone. He smiled into the cameras and waited for the applause to die down. “¡Dios mío!” he said jokingly as he held onto the surfboard. “This is heavier than I thought!” The audience laughed. “But I am honored to be able to accept it tonight, not just for my work but for the work of all the Latino artists in the entertainment industry!” More applause and a few whistles came from the audience. “Not bad for a chico from Cuba, eh?” He paused again, waiting for the audience to quiet down. “I want to thank so many people: the record label and my producers in Los Angeles, my manager, Mike, for his continued support of my career, my buddies in Miami, who inspire me when I’m writing songs, my mother, who taught me to fight for what I want.” He paused and looked directly into the camera. “Te amo, Mami.” Polite applause. “And, of course, the young woman who honored me just a month ago by becoming my wife. Her love and faith inspire me!” He took a step back from the microphone and lifted the award over his head. “¡Gracias a Dios!”
The audience erupted into wild applause as Alejandro was led backstage so that the next award could be announced.
By now, he knew the drill. He had won other awards before this one. He would walk the gauntlet of entertainment reporters who were waiting to interview him, hoping for some exclusive sound bite that they could use on their programs. Then, there would be the endless photographs against another Teen Choice Music Award backdrop. At some point, he would return to his seat, although Alejandro was tempted to slip away. Unfortunately, he knew that his absense would be noticed and certainly commented on by the tabloids.
It was almost an hour later when the ceremony ended. Despite being hounded by well-meaning partygoers who wanted him to attend the after-hours gatherings, Alejandro gave noncommittal answers and fought his way through the crowds to get into his awaiting car. He was tired. It had been a long day, and despite the fact that Mike would be furious, Alejandro leaned forward and instructed the driver to take him back to his condo. He had more long days ahead of him, and the last thing he wanted to do was spend the rest of the night partying.
No, he thought. Those days were over. Without Amanda, he told himself, he had no interest in drinking and dancing until the early hours of the morning. Instead, he’d relax at the hotel room and get a good night’s sleep. For once.
Chapter Five
Wunderbar news about the award.
Danke for letting me know.
What is this about a nurse?
Another surprise?
<3
A.
Harvey slowed down the car before turning into the parking lot behind the natural food store. He glanced at Amanda before he put the car in “Park” and turned off the engine. “You alright, then?” he asked, concern in his eyes as she faced out the window, her hand covering her mouth and the color drained from her face. “You know you could never have gone in a buggy, Amanda. Driving was the only way.”
She nodded and lowered her hand. Several other cars pulled in behind them. She already knew that those cars were driven by the more brazen of the photographers who had followed them. She had no choice but to face them, head held high and eyes straight ahead. “Ja, I know,” she replied softly. “Danke for bringing me.”
She hadn’t counted on the paparazzi following them. But as soon as Harvey had pulled out of the driveway with Amanda in the passenger seat, three of the cars immediately followed. She hated the thought that they were taking her photograph with another man. She knew enough about the gossip magazines to suspect what the headline would read. There would be suspicions about who the man was driving the car and more speculation that her rushed marriage to Alejandro was already failing.
Oh, he had told her about those headlines when they had talked on the phone just two nights ago. He was in Los Angeles, working on several endorsements. He had told her about the concerts in Chicago and Detroit and St. Paul. And then he had told her about the tabloids.
Despite his casual manner about the stories, she had found herself in despair. The thought that people might ac
tually believe those horrid stories upset her. Indeed, his news had broken her heart and she had felt increased pressure to rejoin him on the road. But he had reassured her that it was just part of the game.
Now, as she faced the intruding cameras once again, this time with Harvey Alderfer by her side, she did not need much imagination to visualize the headlines on the social media and tabloid papers that would grace the grocery store aisles within days.
Harvey glanced over his shoulder at the men who emerged from their respective cars, cameras in hand, busy snapping away, the lenses pointed in their direction. As usual, he remained calm and collected; nothing seemed to bother him. “Shall I walk in with you, then?”
Amanda hesitated. She hadn’t dealt with the paparazzi one-on-one. Not really. At the farm, the police had kept them off the property. Now she was in the parking lot and her parents needed her to pick up a list of items. She could have asked Harvey to go without her, but she had felt the need to leave the farm, to escape the sorrow that had fallen over the house since her daed’s accident and her return. When Harvey had proposed that he drive her in his car, she had happily accepted, insisting that she pay him for the gas. She hadn’t considered the possibility of the photographers following them.
“Or we can go back to the farm,” he suggested.
The cowardly way, she thought bitterly. It was bad enough that she was apart from Alejandro, especially since they had barely been married a month, but she was not about to hide from these people. She didn’t want him to worry any more than she knew he already did. She would do what Alejandro had taught her to do: face them and then move on.
“Nee, Harvey, but I appreciate your patience. I can handle this,” she said, with more confidence than she actually felt.
Her hand shook as she opened the door of the car, dipping her head down as the men rushed toward her. To their credit, they kept a respectful distance while they photographed her as she walked into the store. She did her best to keep her head high then, staring straight ahead and not responding to them. She knew better than to encourage them. Alejandro had taught her that. Only respond when it’s an event.
As she approached the door of the store, she saw it open. She was about to enter when she saw an elderly couple emerge, a box of goods in the man’s arms. Amanda stepped aside, surprised to see the woman nod at her. It was a woman from her church district. But as soon as the woman saw the photographers, she shielded her face and hurried away from Amanda.
To her surprise, the photographers stayed outside of the store. She wasn’t certain that they would respect the store enough to not enter; however, they remained poised with their cameras to take photos once she left. Amanda walked through the door and, with just a quick glance over her shoulder, shut the door behind her.
The store was well lit, despite the lack of electricity. Special skylights with tubing brought natural sunlight into the store, making it as bright as if fluorescent lights lined the ceiling. Amanda glanced around, trying to get her bearings. It had been a while since she had been here. She realized that it had been more than six months, just before she had gone to Ohio with her sister. Yet she immediately remembered where everything was located in the aisles and she felt a comforting sense of familiarity, one that she hadn’t felt in a long time.
The only shopping she had done since leaving Lancaster in the summer had been with Alejandro, and it certainly had not been for groceries or supplies. No, it had been for dresses and jewelry, shoes and accessories. She had also shopped with Lucinda and Celinda, but it wasn’t the same. The stores were new and exciting with racks of shoes and rows of clothing. Amanda had never seen anything like it; obscene had been the word that had come to mind. It was understandable why Englische people, women in particular, fussed over their appearance, for there were simply too many options to choose from.
But at the natural food store, Amanda felt at home. Everything seemed familiar, from the bulk foods that were packaged in simple clear plastic bags with white labels on the front, to the cold room with the fresh vegetables that were lined up so neatly in the produce cases.
She pushed the small cart down the broad aisles, pausing to pick up more flour, sugar, and dried beans before turning to the fresh produce section. She smiled at an Amish woman standing nearby, and to her surprise, the woman frowned and turned away without greeting her. Always, in the past, the Amish greeted one another, stranger or not. Amanda was puzzled by this woman’s behavior, wondering why she had been snubbed. Was it because she was Amanda Diaz or simply because she was not in Amish garb?
In the pasta aisle, she noticed a familiar face: her friend Hannah. She hadn’t seen much of Hannah since Aaron had died. For a while, Hannah had been one of her closest friends. They had shared almost as many secrets as Amanda shared with Anna. But their friendship had faded since Hannah had accepted that buggy ride home from Joshua Esh after the youth singing on a Sunday so long ago. Most of Hannah’s free time had been spent with Joshua, for they were openly courting.
Indeed, after Aaron’s death, things had changed on the Beiler farm. Neither Anna nor Amanda had wanted much to do with social activities. Anna had fallen into a depression, and her relationship with Menno Zook had ended. The family had taken a long time to grieve Aaron’s death, as if something like that could ever be forgotten. As a result, they had withdrawn into themselves and friendships had been forgotten.
But life had continued for the rest of the g’may.
Amanda pushed her cart next to her friend and reached out to touch the woman’s arm.
“Hannah!” She smiled. “It’s right gut to see you!”
The woman turned from the bags of pasta that she had been surveying and eyed Amanda. It took her a minute to recognize the woman who stood before her. Despite her simple dress, Amanda was not wearing Amish clothing, nor was she wearing a prayer kapp. “Amanda? Amanda Beiler?”
“It’s Amanda Diaz now,” she replied, feeling the warmth of a blush covering her cheeks. Certainly, Hannah was aware that she had left the community and married the Englischer. The Amish grapevine was too strong to have ignored that tidbit of gossip, of that Amanda was sure and certain. “How are you?” She didn’t really need to ask that, for Hannah’s expanding waistline told Amanda all that she needed to know about her friend: married and expecting a baby.
“Just fine. Reckon I should ask you the same, ain’t so?” Her friend smiled, a warm and welcoming smile. “Had heard that you were back in town. Awful sorry to hear about your daed. Hope he’s doing well.”
Amanda nodded. “He’s soon to recover,” she said. “Doing as well as can be expected. Not walking right now, but the doctors have hope that he will.”
The door to the store opened and two men walked in, speaking in Pennsylvania Dutch to each other. Amanda heard the word photographer in the midst of their conversation and lifted her head to look at them. The men walked past the aisle, one of them noticing her standing there. He paused, narrowing his eyes, and mumbled, “Troovel,” under his breath: trouble.
Hannah averted her eyes, embarrassed for her friend.
The word hit Amanda like a slap and she cringed.
“I . . . I best get going,” Amanda said softly and, without waiting for a response, hurried down the rest of the aisle, pushing the cart before her as if it were a shield. She finished her shopping, her head down and refusing to look at anyone as she hurried through the store. She caught sight of the two men standing near an elderly couple, their tongues wagging and one of them gesturing toward her. Ignoring them, Amanda pushed the cart to the counter. She felt tears stinging at her eyes but refused to let them fall.
“How’s your daed?” the woman at the cash register asked as she began to ring up Amanda’s order.
It took her a minute to realize that the woman was speaking to her. “Excuse me?”
“Your daed. Is he doing better now?”
“Oh,” Amanda started. “Ja, ja, much better. Should be coming home next week, I reckon.”
The worker continued ringing up the order. “And your sister? I hear her wedding was announced just before your daed’s accident?”
“Ja, just before his stroke.”
“They’ll be returning here, then?”
Amanda nodded. “To visit. Around Thanksgiving week, I reckon.”
The woman glanced over her shoulder toward the door. “Reckon you’ll leave then, ja?” She looked back at Amanda, leveling a steady eye at the young woman. “And taking your friends with you?”
It took a moment for Amanda to realize exactly what the cashier meant. Slowly, it dawned on her that she was talking about the photographers. Amanda took a breath and squared her shoulders, refusing to let the woman see the pain she had felt from the hurtful insinuation of the woman’s words. It was clear that the woman was telling Amanda that she was not wanted at the store, not if she brought with her the attention and cameras of the Englische.
The way she had been treated by the other customers and now by the cashier shocked Amanda. Hadn’t it been just a few months ago that she, too, had been Amish? Hadn’t she been treated with the respect and courtesy that the community practiced among their friends, family, and neighbors? However, today she had seen a different side to the people she used to consider her own. It was as if they had decided to unofficially shun her, and that feeling ripped through her in a way she had not expected.
Amanda had no response and, in typical Amish fashion, merely remained silent, her eyes staring straight ahead. Best to let angry words remain unspoken, her mamm had always told her.