by Sarah Price
Indeed, she told herself, I have nothing to say that would soothe either my raw nerves or hers.
Quietly, she paid her bill and pushed the cart with the food toward the door. She struggled to open it, finally pushing it with her hip and jerking the cart over the slightly raised metal bar that covered the threshold. When she approached the second door, she managed to maneuver the cart better and felt the cold air on her face as she stepped outside.
The photographers were waiting, eager to snap her photo as well as some shots of what was inside the cart. Amanda tried to look straight ahead, but a few of the men walked backward in front of her. She looked away, but there was no escaping their invasion of her personal space.
“That’s enough,” a deep voice said. Immediately, an arm seemed to come out of nowhere, pushing the photographers away and blocking Amanda from view. “Give the lady some space. You boys don’t have much else to do, eh?”
Amanda blinked twice, stunned to see Harvey guiding her through the paparazzi and toward the car. He leaned over and whispered into her ear, “Get in. I’ll take care of the food.” Without a second’s hesitation, Amanda did as he commanded, hurrying into the car, shutting the door and locking it. She covered her face with her hands, knowing that they were still taking photographs. After all this time, she wondered why they were still so interested in her.
After Harvey loaded the groceries and got into the car, he turned to look at her. “You all right, then?”
The concerned expression on his face touched her. It was all that she could do to simply nod her head, not trusting her voice to speak.
“I think I’ll get a list from you or your mamm next time,” Harvey said, putting the car into drive and pulling away from the photographers. “No need for you to go through that type of scene again.”
It had been so different with Alejandro. Wherever they went, there had been crowds of people, true. But it had been controlled, and Alejandro knew how to handle them. Now, in her own hometown, along the small back roads of Lititz in Lancaster County, she couldn’t even go to a grocery store.
She remained silent on the short drive back to her parents’ farm. Staring out the window, she saw things in a different light. The large, open pastures and well-kept farmhouses, normally so serene and beautiful, now seemed barren and devoid of joy. Indeed, she realized as they approached the line of cars parked along the side of the road outside of her parents’ lane, there is no joy left in Lancaster for me at all.
“Let me help carry in these groceries,” Harvey said when he parked the car in front of the house. He didn’t wait for an answer as he opened the door and grabbed the two large boxes of food.
Silently, Amanda followed him into the house, her mind reeling from what had just happened at the store. From meeting her friend to the unkind words uttered by an aging Amish man to the rebuff from the cashier at the register, Amanda was still in shock. How is this possible, she wondered, that people can be so cruel and insensitive?
“You alright, then, Amanda?”
“Hmm?” She looked up, unaware that Harvey had been watching her. The two boxes were on the kitchen table, and he stood behind them, one hand on the tabletop as he stared at her. “Oh, ja,” she said dismissively, knowing that she wasn’t telling the full truth. “I got this, danke.”
As she approached the table to begin unloading the goods from the boxes, she noticed that Harvey made no move toward the door. His presence did not disturb her, however. There was something comforting about him.
“It can’t be easy,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “For you or for them.”
“Them?” His words surprised her, and she didn’t know to whom he was referring. “The paparazzi?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “The Amish in your community.”
“Ah,” she replied wistfully, not certain that she wanted to agree with him, although knowing that he spoke the truth.
“They cannot understand your choice, I reckon,” he continued. “And you probably cannot understand their harsh determination in dealing with it.”
Harsh determination? She wanted to laugh at his choice of words. Harsh, indeed! She felt unwanted and betrayed by the very people among whom she had been raised. She had not realized that she could be treated in such a manner, especially since she had never taken her baptism. They were unofficially shunning her without officially admitting it. Yet Amanda knew that she couldn’t abandon her family, not after all they had been through.
Oh, she knew that there was no home for her among the Amish. Not anymore. Her love for Alejandro transcended her desire to remain plain. And she knew better than to pressure him to consider such a move. She had made the decision to leave her family and her community for Alejandro. And now that they were married, she hadn’t once regretted that decision. Still, the rejection she had felt during that shopping excursion stung at her soul. How could her own people be so cold?
“I reckon I can pray about it,” Amanda finally admitted. “Mayhaps then I can gain some understanding.” Forcing a smile, she took the empty box and set it on the floor before tackling the second one. “What does the book of Proverbs say? All the ways of a man are clean in his own eyes; but the Lord weigheth the spirits.”
Harvey reached down for the empty box. “The self-righteous heart can justify just about anything, ain’t so?”
She wondered if he was directing that comment to her or toward the people of her g’may but decided not to ask. Either way, he spoke the truth. She had never considered herself self-righteous and could only presume that he meant the g’may. “I am not above correction or conscience,” she said softly.
“I did not mean you,” he confirmed, reaching his hand out for the second box. “Your actions speak of a contrite and honest heart, Amanda. Of the others, however, I am not so sure.”
Amanda stared after him as he carried both of the empty boxes toward the door. He paused, just briefly, before he disappeared outside. She stared after him, his words haunting her.
Indeed, he had been speaking of the Amish, the people of her g’may. How could she have been so blind to the prejudices of her own community for all of those years? Despite the peace and tranquility of her youth, she was seeing things differently now. Where she used to see colors, so bright and vibrant, she was now seeing things in black and white. Her mind seemed flooded with conflicting information; it pulled her even further away from her upbringing.
Could it be true? Could the prejudices of the bishop and the lack of compassion of the people show a communally lofty heart? One that countered all of the teaching and preaching in school, church, and home? The idea was shocking to her, and she stood there, stunned, as the thoughts raced through her head.
She appreciated Harvey’s insight. As a Mennonite, he was close enough to the Amish community to be knowledgeable about their ways, yet he provided an outside perspective that she had never bothered to seek. Was that what the Englische thought about the Amish? That they abandoned those who left the fold? That their hearts did not reflect the truth behind the spoken word?
“No!”
The sound of her own voice startled her. Perhaps from the outside looking in, the ways of the Amish seemed strange, even to someone like Harvey, who had lived among them for so long. Still, she felt inclined to protect the community, even the harsh bishop with his lack of emotion and compassion.
Among the Amish, the people were expected to live simple lives. The bishops of each g’may set the rules by which the people lived, the emphasis always focused on communal order and discipline. When those rules were broken, the consequences were accepted and followed. For some infractions, it meant a private confession. For others, it might be a public one. For the most serious transgressions, the perpetrator might fall under the bann, a shunning among the people until sins were properly confessed and repentance proved under way.
From the outside looking in, such a process might seem fierce and harsh. Yet everyone willingly agreed to live by those rules. There was no e
vangelism among the Amish, no pressure to join beyond that of parents pushing their children. However, no one fought the rules of the church. Indeed, had Amanda not met Alejandro, she would still follow those rules, despite not having taken her baptism. Now, because she had followed her heart, she had challenged the rules and, subsequently, the order of the g’may.
Oh, she understood it rather well now. The resistance that she had experienced on that very day from people who used to be considered friends as well as kin was a clear recourse spawned by her own actions and decisions. With the paparazzi stationed outside of her parents’ farm and wandering through Lititz, there was a conflict between the rule and order that the people wanted to follow and the intrusion of the outside world, the very world that they wanted so much to avoid.
Sighing, she sank down onto the bench at the table. With her eyes closed, she lifted her heart to God and prayed, begging for the strength to continue her journey. She prayed for Gelassenheit, complete submission to the will of God. Direct me, oh heavenly Father, she asked. Direct me so that I do the right thing for everyone: my schwester, my parents, my husband, and my community. I yield myself completely to your will, oh Lord.
Chapter Six
Please stay on the farm.
I don’t want you harassed.
It will only be for a few more weeks, yes?
How is your father doing?
When is Anna to arrive?
V.
It was Carlos who had reluctantly handed Alejandro the stack of magazines and tabloid papers at the condo while his boss was having breakfast. The sun was already high in the sky, a sky clear as can be, totally devoid of clouds. A perfect autumn day in California, he thought. The only thing missing was Amanda.
However, when he picked up the first tabloid, she was right there on its cover, staring back at him, as disoriented as a fawn in the headlights.
He set down his coffee mug and began to scan the article, the words repulsing him to his very core. The first paper had a photo of Amanda with the hired man by her side; the gossip columnist, Harris Perez, speculated that she had returned home for more than just helping her family. The next paper had the same photo on one side of the page and another photo of Alejandro arriving alone at the Teen Choice Music Awards the other evening. The headline infuriated him: “Viper’s Bite Too Much for Amish Belle.”
“Ay, Dios,” he mumbled.
He didn’t need this. Not today.
“What time is the car picking me up?” he asked Carlos.
“It’s here already.”
Scooping up the papers, he shoved them into a black leather portfolio. “Make certain this gets into the car,” he demanded, thrusting the bag at Carlos. Without waiting for a reply, he disappeared through the sliding glass doors and hurried to his room to change.
The paparazzi thrived on speculation and controversy. That was a given. They took photos and published them out of context and with complete disregard for the truth. More celebrities would fight the practice but for two things: the enormous expense of the legal battle and the fact that, once a person achieved celebrity status, they became quasi-public property and different laws applied to them. Still, it didn’t make the practice any more palatable.
Of course, Alejandro thought as he buttoned up his black shirt and stared into the bathroom mirror, the paparazzi had also helped jumpstart his career. During his early years, he had been a constant name in the Miami newspapers, both English and Spanish, just as much for his rapid rise to stardom as for the bar and street fights he had been involved in, some greatly exaggerated by the media. The stories had increased his fan base as young Latinos wanted to see what he would do next.
Still, he didn’t want them bothering Amanda.
Thirty minutes later, he was sitting in Mike’s office, a white mug of coffee in his hand while he waited for his manager to end a phone call. Setting the mug on the glass table by the sofa where he sat, Alejandro pulled the papers from the portfolio and glanced through them one more time.
He tossed them aside, frustrated at the photos that graced the entertainment section of a third tabloid that he hadn’t seen earlier: Amanda at the farm, Alejandro onstage, not together; speculation that their marriage was on the rocks. But it was the actual story of the fourth paper that bothered him: the story about the hired man at the farm.
Indeed, the latest photo, the one of the hired man helping Amanda through the small crowd of photographers at the market, infuriated him. The article gleefully reported that social media had gone viral, circulating the photos with comments about Amanda returning to her plain roots and finding a new love interest. There was a split: half of the fans were thrilled, preferring a single Viper to a married Alejandro, while the other half seemed completely smitten with Amanda. However, what was more disturbing to Alejandro was how the former group was turning against Amanda while the latter turned against him.
Irritated by what he was reading, Alejandro brushed aside the magazine, stood up, and started to pace the floor in Mike’s office, his hands clutched behind his back. His mind reeled, wondering what she was doing that morning. Already, he had tried to call her twice to no avail. It went directly to voice mail, so he knew she must have forgotten to charge the phone, something he had been very specific about instructing her to do each night.
“Dios mío,” he mumbled and rubbed at his forehead. He stared at Mike, who, having hung up the phone, had moved over to sit on the sofa. “I want this stopped, Mike.” He gestured toward the papers. “Do something.”
Mike took a moment and glanced through the small stack of papers. Alejandro noticed that he barely looked at the photos and articles, just scanning the headlines. It occurred to him that Mike might have already read the tabloids. Yet he had said nothing to his client. A wave of anger caused Alejandro to narrow his eyes and glare at Mike while he fingered through the papers. Finally, his manager looked up and shrugged his shoulders, a gesture of defeat as well as noncompliance. “And what exactly would you have me do, Alex?”
Alejandro ran his fingers through his hair and cursed in Spanish under his breath. “I don’t know, but something,” he muttered and turned to stare at Mike. Then, raising his voice: “Anything. Just divert the attention away from her while she’s at her parents’. That’s what I pay you for!”
If Alejandro had expected Mike to react to the unspoken threat, he was sorely disappointed. Instead of looking concerned, Mike merely leaned back into the sofa and put his hands behind his head, staring at Alejandro with no emotion in his eyes. “I can arrange interviews on the talk shows for you,” Mike offered, his voice expressing the same lack of concern as in his facial expression. “I can arrange photographers at restaurants and hotels. But I can’t do much for her while she’s staying on a farm in Pennsylvania and you’re traveling around the country.”
“¡Ay, Dios!”
Mike shook his head as he cleared his throat. “Look, you just got married and now you are apart. People are going to talk. Speculation is part of the game. What does it matter? It’s getting your name in front of people’s eyes, and we both know what that does: sells your music and your image.”
Alejandro knew that it was true. Without Amanda by his side, the rumors wouldn’t stop. With more rumors would come more interest and more invasion of their privacy. But the bottom line was that the constant gossip and speculation did make money.
“Why are they so interested? Why does it matter so much to them?” he said, more to himself than to Mike. He didn’t expect an answer.
“She’s different,” Mike responded. “That’s the draw. If you were with any number of women, famous or not, they probably wouldn’t care so much. But she’s . . . Amish.” As always, the way that Mike said the word, with a hint of disdain and disgust in his tone, infuriated Alejandro.
“She’s not just any woman. She’s my wife,” Alejandro interrupted. “And she’s not Amish. Not anymore.”
Mike shrugged. “Whatever.”
“There�
�s a difference and we need to make it clear that she’s no longer Amish!”
“Would it matter?” Mike asked before sighing and rubbing his face with his hands. “Look, maybe it will die down in a while. How long can they just camp out at her parents’ farm taking photos of empty fields and cows?”
Alejandro narrowed his eyes and glared at his manager. “It’s the intrusion on the entire community, not just the photos, that bothers me.”
But he knew that what he had just said wasn’t entirely true. It bothered him that people were speculating about Amanda and the hired man. Such rumors would also be noted among the community. What little he had experienced of the Amish during his brief stays on the farm gave him no false hope that such gossip in the entertainment world would escape the watchful eyes of the bishop and his ministers.
“She’s there, Alex. I can’t stop the photographers from intruding,” Mike pointed out. “Need I remind you that those people, the ones who keep your name in the tabloids and on the lips of your fans, are protected by laws, laws that don’t necessarily protect her anymore? Not now that she’s crossed over to celebrity status.”
“Then get her here!” Alejandro snapped back. At least if she were with him, he could shield her better. “Send a car. Send a plane. I’ll arrange for more help for her parents for a few days; just get her to New York when I’m there next week!” He sank back into his chair, glancing at his phone. It was two in the afternoon. No calls. No texts. Where was she? Certainly she was home by now.
“What time is that talk show today?”
“You need to be there by three,” Mike answered after consulting his calendar on his phone. “You best get ready. Car service will be here in thirty minutes. They want to do a dry run before the taping starts at four.”
He didn’t even have time to call her. “Well, do whatever it takes but get her to New York for next week. She can ride in the parade with me. That will quell the media,” he snapped, annoyed that he had to tell his manager what to do. But, then again, everything was annoying him this past week. He had hated answering the questions, hated seeing that the paparazzi were back at the farm, and, most important, hated being separated from his wife.