Plain Again

by Sarah Price

  His hand traveled from her waist to her back, and he pulled her so that she was pressed against him. Placing her hands against his shoulders, she tried to push him back, but it was a futile effort. And as his kisses trailed from her neck to her lips, she gave up entirely. There was no fighting Alejandro, she realized, although the fight had left her as well.

  “Stay with me,” he pleaded, taking her into his arms and maneuvering her toward the bed. “I don’t want to be without you, Amanda.”

  Aman-tha.

  She swallowed her previous anger at him as he held her tight. His arms, so muscular and strong, refused to loosen their grip, and soon the backs of her legs touched the side of the bed frame. With her anger quickly ebbing away, giving way to his passion, she responded to his plea by kissing him back, her free hand caressing the nape of his neck. How could she remain angry with him, this man whom she loved so much?

  Chapter Twenty

  Sure is cold here today.

  Reckon it’s warm in LA.

  Know you are busy.

  Please call when you can.

  A.

  Despite the chill in the air outside, the sun was shining and there was not one cloud in the sky. From the kitchen, Amanda gazed outside the window and scanned the blue sky behind the barn. A flock of birds, Canada geese, flew in a V formation toward the south. Their wings seemed to flap in unison, but she knew that it was just a visual trick.

  Hurry and be safe, she thought, wishing them a speedy journey as she turned away from the window.

  She had been home almost four days and had only spoken with Alejandro once. While she hadn’t completely forgotten about being upset with the video and his nonchalant attitude toward it, his romantic attention to her their last evening spent together in the hotel had made the hurt disappear. However, a new hurt was rapidly arising that came from four days of limited communication with her husband.

  Oh, Dali kept her well posted on what was going on. The ever-diligent Dali, Amanda had privately nicknamed her. Despite Amanda being in Lancaster County, Dali continued to work hard behind the scenes. Already Amanda had two telephone interviews with reporters, one based in England and one in Canada. And Dali had been quick to report that the music video, the one that Amanda found so distasteful, already had over four million views and there was talk of a possible music video award for it.

  As for Alejandro, Dali had merely told Amanda that she knew he was in Los Angeles and suspected that most of his time was spent at the recording studio. Dali was quick to remind Amanda that her own job was not to manage the public relations for Alejandro but for her, his wife. However, she had reported that there had been no gossip in the social media about their separation. From the tone of Dali’s voice, that lack of journalistic interest did not please her. For a publicist, media silence meant public relations failure. Amanda, however, had been overjoyed by the lack of stories and gossip in the media. While she would never admit it to anyone, she needed a break from the speculative and usually false stories that circulated about her and Alejandro.

  “Going to market today, Amanda?”

  She looked over at her mamm, ho had just walked in from outside. Lizzie’s cheeks were flushed with the cold as she hung up her thick black jacket on a peg jutting from the wall by the door. “I can, Mamm,” she answered. “Did you write a list?”

  “Ja, ja.” Lizzie rubbed her arms as she walked to the desk near the sofa. “Sure is cold out today,” she muttered. “Be certain to bundle up, then.”

  “I will, Mamm,” Amanda said, hiding a quick roll of her eyes. “If Harvey’s taking me, his car does have a heater in it, ain’t so?”

  Lizzie glanced up. “No need to be sassy,” her mamm scolded gently. “Besides, I want you to take the horse and buggy. That mare needs exercise anyway.”

  Inwardly, Amanda groaned. On a cold day, the buggy would never warm up during the ride to the market. She’d have to make certain to bring extra blankets to huddle under during the ride. At least the paparazzi had not been hanging around, the cold weather chasing them away as much as the boredom from not being able to take more than a few redundant photographs of Amanda walking to and from the barn.

  When she had put on her coat and taken the list from her mamm, she ventured outside, shivering as the cold ran through her bones. She carried two afghan blankets over her arm as she hurried toward the buggy, puffing out small clouds of steam as she breathed.

  Harvey had just finished harnessing the horse and was backing her up when Amanda approached the side of the buggy. He paused and eyed her, concern on his face. “You sure ’bout this, then?” he asked cautiously. “Not certain you should be going alone.”

  “Danke for caring,” she replied, genuinely meaning it. Harvey had become a quasi-member of the family over the past few weeks, his help on the farm invaluable and his loyalty to the family irreplaceable. “I’ll be just fine. Those photographers haven’t been around since I returned now, have they? And besides,” she said as she slid open the buggy door and tossed in the blankets, “I need to get off the farm for a while.”

  For the first mile, the horse seemed to prance along the road, tossing her head and trying hard to break into a canter. Amanda was glad that there were but very few cars on the road as her mamm had been correct: the horse needed the exercise. Inside the buggy, the rumbling of the wheels against the road and the jiggling sounds accompanying its motion drowned out her thoughts. As soon as the horse calmed down and began to amble at an even pace, Amanda started to lose herself in the hypnotic trance of the noise and motion.

  Despite the blueness of the sky and warmth of the sun, she found herself looking around at the fields and farmhouses, seeing them with a fresh perspective. When she had been younger, taking these same roads with her little brother, Aaron, at her side, they had pointed out the different cows, crops, and birds that they encountered along the way. Now, however, she saw it differently.

  She barely saw the color of the farms. Instead of the blue silos and red barns, everything looked black and white to her. Perhaps it was the bare trees or empty fields that made it look that way. More likely, she realized, it was her exposure to so many things in the Englische world. The bright lights of the cities. The energy of the concerts. The sounds of the opera. The smells of fancy restaurants. The hustling street vendors. In the past months, her world had changed so much that she could only compare the peaceful life that she had known for so long to the life she knew was now her future.

  Yet being apart from Alejandro made her feel as though she was bridging a stream, unable to quite cross from one side to the other. She wanted to have both feet on the Englische side even though she wasn’t certain if she was truly ready to say good-bye to the Amish side in its entirety.

  There were few people at the market. Amanda tied the horse to the hitching post and hurried across the parking lot to the steps that led to the glass doors. She held the list in her hand as she grabbed a small shopping cart and began to push it through the aisles, quickly filling up the cart with the items on her mamm’s list: flour, brewer’s yeast, sea salt, aloe vera water, natural sugar, tea, vegetables, and bran.

  She was walking through the vitamin aisle, looking for Graviola, the last item on the list, when she felt the heat of someone’s stare on the back of her neck. Hesitating, she contemplated not turning around but curiosity got the better of her. She stopped walking, pausing just long enough to look over her shoulder to see the bishop standing beside his wife at the far end of the aisle.

  For a moment, Amanda thought about ignoring him. He had been rude to her one too many times, she thought. But just as quickly, she realized that it would mean she was stooping to his level. Leaving her cart in the middle of the aisle, she approached the bishop and his wife, quick to smile as she greeted them.

  “Gut mariye,” she said, holding out her hand to shake theirs. It did not surprise her that neither one hurried to respond in kind. “I hope you are staying warm today. It’s right cold out, ain’t
so?”

  Reluctantly, the bishop accepted her outstretched hand. “Reckon so,” he mumbled.

  His wife followed his example. She was a small woman with a wrinkled face and faded blue eyes that hid behind thick, round spectacles. Her hand was cold when Amanda shook it. It was a hand that had changed many diapers and made just as many pies over a lifetime. The only life that the bishop’s wife had known was the one that she was living now. The realization that had she not met and married Alejandro, she would have been just like this woman struck Amanda, and for just a moment, she felt a wave of relief.

  “Your daed is better, I hear,” the bishop managed to say, a forced degree of civility in his voice.

  “Ja, danke for asking,” Amanda said. “There’s a nurse visiting each afternoon. She works with him on his muscles. Sure does tire him out.”

  The bishop’s wife nodded her head. “Long journey ahead of him, that’s for sure and certain,” she said.

  “Reckon you heard that Anna and her husband are moving from Ohio to run Daed’s farm,” Amanda added, uncertain how to extract herself from the awkward conversation.

  “As it should be,” was all that the bishop said. And then silence.

  As politely as possible, Amanda bade them good day and hurried back to her cart, her cheeks stinging from the coldness of a man who professed to be so close to God. Oh, she knew that it was the lot that had chosen him to lead their g’may. But after so many years doing so, he was looked upon as a most godly man. His lack of compassion continued to stun her, but she realized there was nothing she could do about it.

  At the cash register, she was still thinking about the cold response from both the bishop and his wife when the cashier, a younger Amish woman who Amanda had known from the youth singings, cleared her throat. She glanced around the store before she leaned over and whispered, “Those men are outside, you know.”

  Frowning, Amanda wondered if she had heard properly. “What men, Mary?”

  “The men with the cameras.”

  Quickly, Amanda turned her head and stared out the window, trying to see what men the woman was referencing. Sure enough, there were three cars positioned near her buggy, one almost blocking her exit. The photographers were unabashedly leaning against the cars, cameras in hand, waiting for her to exit the store.

  “Oh fiddle-faddle,” she muttered. How had that happened? There was no way around it; she would have to face them head-on. With two boxes to carry, she needed to make two trips. And then she’d have to make her way home, praying that they did not drive their cars too close to the horse and buggy.

  Trying to hide her fear, Amanda took a deep breath as she placed the supplies into a box while Mary continued to ring up her total. Several men walked into the store, pausing when they recognized Amanda and glancing back toward the door. She knew what they were talking about, even if she could not hear them. Having seen the photographers in the parking lot, they had probably suspected that Amanda was inside. Seeing her had only confirmed their suspicions.

  She paid Mary for the goods, trying to smile as she thanked her, then carried the boxes to the window, resting one on the ledge as she peered outside. One of the photographers was smoking a cigarette while the other two men held their cameras, talking to each other. They were waiting for her to exit the store and didn’t look in a hurry to leave.

  As she contemplated how she was going to manage the inevitable confrontation, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Surprised, she turned around and found herself face-to-face with the bishop. “Reckon you need some help with those boxes, ja?”

  She didn’t quite understand what he was asking. “I . . . I can manage.”

  His eyes flickered toward the window. “Might not hurt if I carry one box out first,” he said. “And pull that buggy around to the back doors so you don’t have to carry it down those stairs.”

  The realization that he was offering to help struck her, and she could barely do more than nod her head. She was suddenly moved by this gesture from the bishop, a man who had fought so hard to alienate her ever since Alejandro had returned her to the farm after her accident in New York City. When he took the first box and headed toward the door, she could hardly believe that he was confronting those men on her behalf.

  She watched from the window as he descended the stairs and headed directly for the buggy. Instead of getting into his own buggy, he placed the box in the back of her daed’s. The photographers moved, one of them taking a photograph of the bishop while the other two got out of his way. The bishop ignored them, a scowl on his face as he untied the horse and backed her up before getting inside the buggy. He slammed the door shut before the photographer could take another photo and slapped the reins on the horse’s back to get her moving.

  The buggy rolled out of the parking lot, but rather than head down the lane, it turned down the narrow road alongside the store. To Amanda’s amazement, the photographers didn’t pay any attention as they settled back into their former positions, waiting for Amanda to exit.

  Lifting the second box into her arms, Amanda followed Mary to the back of the store and through a door that led into the storage room. At the rear was a doorway that led to the back of the building. When Mary opened the door, Amanda saw that the bishop was already waiting there, standing beside the horse and gesturing for Amanda to hurry.

  She didn’t need to be told twice. She pushed the box through the open buggy door and slid it over the seat so that she had room to climb in. The bishop held the horse’s bridle as Amanda settled in. He kept glancing over his shoulder, as if expecting the photographers to come around the back of the building. But there was no sign of them.

  “You take that dirt road to the Millers’ farm,” he instructed. “Then exit out of their driveway to the main road.”

  “Danke, Bishop,” she said quietly, emotion welling up and into her throat. Of anyone to step up to come to her aid, she never would have suspected this man. She was ashamed of herself for having thought so little of his character, despite their differences in the past.

  The bishop didn’t respond as he stepped away from the horse and motioned for her to get moving before the photographers caught on to their ruse. But as she directed the horse down the dirt lane, she looked into the side mirror and saw that he turned to watch her leave. At one point, she thought she saw him lift his hand to wave to her, but she couldn’t be sure of that.

  As she maneuvered the buggy down the dirt lane toward the white farmhouse, she breathed a sigh of relief. No one was following her. In her mind, she could see the confusion of the photographers when the bishop reemerged from the front door, this time with his wife. She wondered if the men would even recognize that it was the same Amish man who had just driven away in a buggy. She doubted it. By the time they would finally realize what had happened, Amanda would most likely be home already, helping to unload the groceries in her mamm’s kitchen.

  And all of that because the bishop had stepped forward to assist her, protecting her even though she was no longer a member of the g’may. It dawned on her that his gesture had taught her an even more important lesson: despite the choices that she had made, she didn’t necessarily have to jump from one side of the stream to another. While she would never truly be accepted as an Amish woman, she would also never truly be an Englischer. Indeed, the bishop had just shown her that she would always have a connection with the Amish and, as such, would fall under the protected wing of the Amish community.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Getting ready for the Jingle Ball concert.

  Will call later.

  Remember to stay put.

  No more excursions to the store, mi amor.

  V.

  It was his fifth year performing at the Jingle Ball concert in the City of Angels, Alejandro realized. Each year, he had enjoyed himself as much during the concert as afterward, at the after-parties. The entertainers were always in a jovial mood, often drinking backstage both before and after their performances. Last year, a s
omewhat inebriated Lil Juan had barged in on Viper’s set, the two of them immediately breaking into a joint song, a throwback to the old days, singing at clubs in Miami.

  This year, the general mood backstage was no different.

  With so many entertainers performing on one stage, the behind-the-scenes areas were filled with people: managers, girlfriends, stagehands, and well-wishers who belonged to various entourages. Like the others, Alejandro was never alone, his own entourage of friends having joined him in Los Angeles for the big event. And as they were talking with other people who they knew from previous concert tours, Alejandro found himself floating among the different groups, embracing old friends whom he hadn’t seen in a long time and shaking hands with those whom he had never met before that evening. This was a night when ideas for future collaborations on songs and videos flowed as easily as the holiday cheer.

  The only thing that could have made the night even better was if Amanda had agreed to join him.

  He hadn’t spoken to her since Friday morning. His week had been spent at the recording studio, creating new beats to go with the two new songs that he had written while on the road. Then he had spent the evenings helping two friends with their beats, drinking beers while they sat around the computer and adjusted the sounds until Alejandro was satisfied.

  He had been upset with her when he had heard about the incident at the store.

  “I thought I told you to not go anywhere, Amanda,” he had said sharply. “You should have stayed put. It’s not safe to be riding around alone and you know that.”

  She hadn’t responded right away to his reprimand. Her silence had said it all. And he knew that he had upset her. He had learned that Amish trait of hers, shutting down when upset with a situation or a person. Only once had she ever vocalized her emotions when upset and that had been just recently over the video.

  “What’s up, man?”

  Alejandro turned around, grinning when he recognized his friend Dricke Ray. The last time they had seen each other was at an awards event before he had married Amanda. They embraced, clapping each other on the back.