by Price, Sarah
The truth was one thing that Amanda could not say. Not out loud. If she did, she’d have to confront the blackness that clouded her heart and kept her awake at night. She longed to be a family, to experience the joy of raising Isadora with Alejandro, to see his mother—the formidable Alecia—melt with love when she saw her granddaughter. Even more, she longed to feel the butterfly flutters of a life forming within her womb. But these were things she could not say. So, instead of speaking the truth, she merely shook her head and said, “I miss him.”
That was as close to the truth as she could admit.
“Vell, of course you do! He’s your husband!” Anna gently squeezed Amanda’s hand. “Mayhaps you should join him.”
Amanda shook her head once again, fighting the swelling emotions that tightened her throat. She could not cry in front of Anna. She knew that, if she did, Anna would suspect that she was hiding something. Just a little more probing and Amanda would not be able to stop herself from blurting out the entire story.
“Nee, Anna,” she replied, glancing over her shoulder at Isadora and blinking her eyes, hoping that would keep the tears at bay. “Alejandro’s world on the road is no place for a child.” With her tears contained and the hold on her throat loosening, she managed to look back at her sister. “Or for me either, for that matter.”
“Is it truly so awful, then?”
Amanda hesitated before responding. She formulated an answer in her head before she let herself speak. “It’s just very . . . different. It’s a little too bold for me.”
“Bold?”
How could she explain this to Anna? The women. The crowds. The parties. It was not a world that her sister, or anyone from her family, could comprehend. And how could they, when she could barely understand it herself? “Worldly, I reckon,” she said slowly. “South America is a beautiful country, but it is so different from how we were raised, Anna. Days are long and nights are even longer. And on tour there is little sleep and constant traveling. The people are everywhere and there is no privacy.”
Anna laughed. “You mean like here? With those people stealing our photos?”
Amanda would have laughed with her sister, but she couldn’t. “Nee,” she said. “It is worse. At least on the farm we can move about somewhat safely and without interference. But traveling with Alejandro . . .” She paused and thought for a moment.
The memory of the women in Rio walking past her and calling her pobrecita came to mind. They had been mocking her, as if she was too ignorant and unworldly to understand what they wanted from her husband. But Amanda knew. Alejandro had told her all about those women when he first brought her home from New York City after the accident last summer.
Sex. It was all about sex. Those were the kinds of women whom Alejandro had slept with in the past—the type of women with whom Viper had enjoyed the carnal joys of lust instead of love just because he could. They were most probably of the same class as Isadora’s deceased mother.
Anna caught her breath. “Oh, Amanda,” she whispered. “I cannot imagine what you must have experienced.” She held up her free hand as if warding off something dangerous. “Don’t even try to explain it further!”
“I wouldn’t do that.” Not to Anna or anyone in the family.
“You were right to not go with him, then. It is better to stay here until the tour is over, I think.”
“Traveling with Alejandro is too hard on my sensibilities, I reckon,” Amanda said at last. “The one thing that I learned was that success in the music business comes only with sacrifice of self, and I’m not willing to surrender that part of my soul.”
“And he is willing to, then?” Her sister looked horrified.
Quickly, Amanda shook her head. “It’s not like that, Anna. And I don’t want you to judge him.”
“I would never judge another person,” Anna replied softly. “I just don’t understand.”
And Amanda wasn’t certain she could explain it. Some things in life had to be experienced to be understood. “One of the things that I’ve learned is that we are very insulated here, Anna. Even in Ohio we were sheltered from the outside world. And that world is not always very pretty and definitely not simple.” She ran her fingers along the edge of the tabletop. “He had a rough childhood, and the only thing that saved him was music.”
Even though Anna nodded, Amanda knew that her sister didn’t fully understand.
“He doesn’t know any other life, Anna,” she said. “How can someone sacrifice their soul if they know only one way to live?” She frowned. “I think of that often, Anna. If a child is born into a life and is taught how to live that life, like Isadora, and is never exposed to the Word of God . . .”
“I don’t think I care for this discussion,” Anna whispered.
“I felt the same way, Anna,” Amanda admitted. Those women who wanted to have sex with Alejandro were sinners in Amanda’s eyes and according to the Bible. Yet if no one showed them the light and truth of Jesus, what would happen to them on Judgment Day? “But it is something I have to think about because I am married to a man who sins . . . at least according to our beliefs and values.”
“Then why?” Anna asked. “Why did you marry him?”
Amanda bit her lower lip and shut her eyes. No matter what Anna felt for Jonas, or any other Amish woman felt for her husband, there was no amount of explaining that could convey the intensity of emotion that she felt for Alejandro. When he lifted an eyebrow or gave her a half smile, when he stared at her over the rim of his dark sunglasses, she felt as though electricity ran throughout her body and butterflies fluttered in her stomach. Just one glance from Alejandro made her knees feel weak, and when he pulled her into his arms, it took her breath away.
Time had done nothing to extinguish the flame of passion she felt for that man.
“I love him,” Amanda said at last, opening her eyes and staring at her sister. “I love him in ways that there are simply no words to express.”
Amanda sensed Anna’s visit was ending, and for that, she was thankful. She could not fight the tears much longer. Anna started to get up, withdrawing her hand from Amanda’s and placing it lightly on her stomach. As she rubbed it, she glanced at Isadora once again. “Mayhaps he’ll see that his old life is not good and he needs to change for his new life.”
Amanda wasn’t so certain that would happen, but she didn’t say anything.
“I best get going now. Mamm needs my help with Daed. We’ll see you at supper, ja?” Anna didn’t wait for an answer as she headed toward the door that led to the main house. “Oh, I almost forgot why I came over in the first place!” She laughed absentmindedly. “Harvey asked if you might help with the milking? Jonas isn’t back yet from his errands. Mamm and I will watch Izzie.”
Amanda didn’t need to be asked twice. Working in the dairy helped her forget everything that burdened her. For the few hours that she helped with chores, her mind was kept busy while her body worked.
“Izzie,” she said. “Go with your aendi now.”
Isadora looked up from her toys. Her eyes traveled from Amanda to Anna.
“Mammi Lizzie made fresh cookies,” Anna said in a soft, sweet voice.
“Ach! Anna! Not before supper!”
“Just one won’t ruin her appetite,” Anna retorted and held out her hand for the child to take. “Right, Izzie?”
The little girl grinned and nodded her head emphatically. “One.”
Amanda managed a real smile. She held up her pointer finger and said, “Just one, then. But you dare not have more than that, Isadora.”
Anna and Isadora walked hand in hand to the door. After they disappeared through the dark opening, Amanda stared after them, her mind wandering for just a few moments. She wondered if she would have left the South American tour if it hadn’t been for Isadora. Perhaps she would have stuck it out, hiding her unhappiness over Alejandro’s behavior change, which had become even more pronounced after Enrique had joined up with the tour.
Enriq
ue Lopez.
Almost as famous as Alejandro, Enrique lived the lie that had been Alejandro’s past. She had witnessed it firsthand when they had the week break in Argentina. Instead of flying back to the United States, Alejandro had rented an estate, or, as they called it in Argentina, una estancia. While the house and grounds were beautiful, so were the dozens of women who hung around the pool all day and the house all night. With dark, pecan-colored skin and thick black hair, each woman was more beautiful than the next. And Enrique was not afraid to tell them that.
His lie was fidelity. He could offer no one a relationship, just a moment in time. But the women did not seem to mind. In fact, they seemed more drawn to Enrique because of his commitment to infidelity. Witnessing that side of stardom and success had given Amanda a glimpse into her husband’s past that made her worry about the future.
As she walked toward the dairy barn, she caught a glimpse of the paparazzi that still lingered at the end of the farm’s lane. When Alejandro left the farm, the media began to descend upon the Beiler family once again. But as the days continued to drag on, one by one the major reporters and photographers began to leave for other more profitable assignments. A die-hard four of six remained behind, hoping to catch that one photograph of Amanda that they could sell to the entertainment programs on television and to the tabloids.
Harvey must have been watching her from inside the barn. He stepped outside of the entrance door and shifted his hat back on his head. “Still out there, eh?”
Amanda sighed. “Ja, still out there.”
“They must be pretty committed to stay for so long,” he said. “Maybe they’d like to help us milk the cows.”
For a second she thought he was serious, his comment was so dry. But when she realized he was joking, she couldn’t help but laugh. In her mind she could visualize their expressions if she were to approach them, letting them have an uninterrupted moment for their photograph before inviting them into the dairy to help with mucking the cow pen and kneeling by the cows’ udders to milk them. It felt good to laugh. She realized she hadn’t since Alejandro left.
“Wouldn’t that be something?” she replied, still smiling.
Alejandro stood at the window, his hands behind his back, and stared outside at the crowded city street beneath the building. Los Angeles. It was a city of endless hope, broken dreams, and an occasional rising star. Having started his ascent to fame in Miami, he had been fortunate enough to bypass the journey that so many aspiring entertainers took through the city of angels. It was a difficult journey that often ended with the same tale of talented people waiting on tables or taking temporary jobs to make ends meet. They arrived in Los Angeles convinced that they were the next Taylor Swift or Viper. But there could only be so many superstars, and as Viper had learned early in his own career, remaining on top was almost as difficult as getting there
His early years had been struggle after struggle. He sang in clubs, often getting into fights with rowdy patrons who’d drunk more than their share. His approach to music was different, and in those early years he never thought he’d be the next great anything. He just knew that rapping was poetry but with a beat behind it. He quickly learned that a lot of Miami natives liked his form of poetry and, to his benefit, began demanding more.
A few years and four albums later, he found himself the opening act for Big James, the leading hip-hop rapper at the time. Now, after seven years of long days and even longer nights, Viper was the leading hip-hop rapper. On tour, Big James opened for him. The irony was not lost on either performer.
Throughout his own career, Alejandro saw countless people struggling to make it big in the music business, many of them hoping that Viper would take them in under his wing as a protégé. But Alejandro knew better than to sacrifice his time and success by giving pieces of himself to others. The music business was about making money, not friends.
“The car’s here,” Geoffrey said as he walked into the room.
“And so it begins again, sí?” Alejandro sighed. After a stop in New York City, he would take an early-morning flight to London for the first date of his European tour. He looked away from the window toward his manager. “Any news from Lancaster?”
Geoffrey stopped looking at his phone and studied Alejandro. His face had an expression of concern. “Alex, if you don’t mind me saying—”
“I do mind, G,” Alejandro interrupted him in a curt tone. “I asked you a simple question. Have you heard anything?”
“Just call her.”
“I said I mind your opinion, Geoffrey!” Alejandro snapped at him. He glared at his manager, pausing to reach into the front pocket of his suit jacket to withdraw his sunglasses. “A simple answer is all that I need.”
“No,” Geoffrey responded at last. “No word.”
Satisfied, Alejandro slid the sunglasses onto his face and straightened his shoulders. “That’s all I asked.”
And with that, he exited the room and walked down the hallway toward the elevator.
For the last few days, the papers had been eerily silent. While the last few photos they’d published had focused on Amanda and hinted at an inappropriate relationship with the hired man, Harvey, when questioned about their separation, Alejandro remained silent. Speculation ran the gamut: Alejandro left her because he fell in love with a woman in South America, or Amanda left him because she caught him with not just one woman but two. When Harvey’s photo began to enter the stories, the focus of the media shifted from Alejandro as the culpable party to Amanda.
One statement from Alejandro could have stopped the gossip and speculation, but he refused any and all interviews as he prepared for the European leg of the tour. He spent his time meeting with the label executives about his next album and with his recording team to outline the songs. Alejandro could work on lyrics and music while he traveled, creating new beats on his laptop, even while his team remained in Los Angeles.
For more than three weeks, he had tried his best to stay focused and keep himself busy. No matter how hard he tried to convince himself that he could forget, if only for one day, each night when he went to bed, regardless of the hour, it was always Amanda he had on his mind. He would lie in bed, tossing and turning as he thought about the South American tour and the even more disastrous trip to Lancaster at the end of the tour.
No amount of keeping busy could prevent Alejandro from seeing the image of Harvey Alderfer carrying Isadora, and of watching her run past him straight into the arms of Amanda.
Amanda belonged in Lancaster. And Isadora did, too.
His lifestyle did not lend itself to being a father or husband. He should have known that before he married Amanda. But there had been something about her that made him believe that, if ever the possibility existed, she was the one who could change everything. After all, she wanted nothing from him, and that was something he wasn’t used to.
“Viper!”
The elevator doors opened into the lobby. A horde of people waited for him just outside the entrance. Reporters. Always the reporters.
Making certain that his suit jacket wasn’t mussed and his eyes were hidden behind his sunglasses, Alejandro straightened his shoulders as he exited the elevator. His black Manolos clicked against the marble floor as he walked past the security desk and exited through the open doors. The crowd of reporters pushed up against him, closer than he usually permitted reporters to get to him. A security guard rushed after him and began to shove people away from Alejandro. But he didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he continued walking toward the waiting car parked at the curb.
“Is it true that Amanda left you?”
“Who’s the man at her parents’ farm?”
“Why did she leave you during the South American tour?”
The barrage of questions continued, but Alejandro ignored every one of them. He focused on getting from point A to point B. He refused to allow distractions to delay him, especially distractions from the media.
“Viper, is it true that
you’re getting divorced?”
He stopped walking, hesitating just long enough that the security guard bumped into him and the media began to swarm around him once again. Without thinking, he turned around toward the reporter who had asked the last question. He snatched off his sunglasses and with glaring blue eyes sought out the reporter, fully aware that the others were busy recording him and taking his photograph.
“A divorce?” He narrowed his eyes and glowered at the reporter before him. “Don’t you have something better to do?” he asked as he took a step forward, his body invading the reporter’s personal space. “My private life is none of your business. Neither is Amanda’s.”
“Is the divorce because of your daughter?”
From behind him, Alejandro heard someone else call his name. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Geoffrey fighting his way through the crowd. Knowing that he had only seconds before Geoffrey stopped him from responding, Alejandro leaned forward. He stared into the face of the inquisitive reporter, his nose barely inches from the other man’s. The flashing anger in his eyes caused the man to try to back away, but with the other people behind him, there was nowhere to go. Alejandro glared as he hissed between clenched teeth, “There is no divorce.”
“That’s it, people,” Geoffrey yelled, shoving someone away from Alejandro and grabbing his arm. “Back off, everyone. Let Viper get going. He’s got a plane to catch.”
Slowly, Alejandro backed away from the reporter and, in one fluid movement, slid his sunglasses back onto his face, shielding his eyes from the reporters. As he moved toward the car, he maintained a purposeful stride in the hopes that the camera did not catch the real emotions he’d felt at that one word: divorce.
He loved her. And he had left her. But he never imagined that the marriage would end in divorce. Now, as he climbed into his car, his face turned toward the tinted window as Geoffrey sat beside him, Alejandro had something else to contemplate. Was a divorce the next logical step at freeing Amanda and permitting her to live a plain life, free from the complications brought on by marriage to him?