Plain Choice (The Plain Fame Series Book 5)

by Price, Sarah

  Chapter Three

  “Mamm!” Anna said in a hushed voice. “The bishop’s here!”

  Sitting at the kitchen table, Amanda looked up at her sister’s announcement. There was a panicked tone in her voice as she looked from the window to her mother. Amanda had heard the sound of the approaching buggy, but the gentle noise seemed so natural that she hadn’t given it a second thought. Until she heard Anna.

  All morning Amanda had been helping her mother and sister bake pecan pies for the fellowship meal that would follow a women’s gathering at a neighboring farm on Wednesday. Isadora liked to play with the dough, and using a small rolling pin, one that Amanda had used as a child, she flattened out several pieces of dough for her own tiny pie tin. Making the pies with her sister and mother almost made Amanda feel as if she were truly home again. She half expected her brother, Aaron, to come running through the door to announce his latest discovery, whether it was a nest of small blue eggs from a robin or a snake sunning itself on a rock.

  But Aaron was dead, and this was not her home. Miami was her home. With Alejandro. And with Isadora.

  Now, Anna was standing on her tippy-toes staring out the window at the gray-topped buggy that had pulled into the driveway just a few minutes ago.

  “The bishop?” Lizzie hurried to the window and peered over Anna’s shoulder. “I wonder what’s happened.”

  “Why does the bishop showing up mean something bad must have happened?” Amanda asked in a dry tone.

  “Oh, Amanda!” Lizzie scolded as she quickly scanned the room to make certain it wasn’t untidy for the bishop. “Now’s not the time to get sassy.”

  Amanda’s only response was a quick eye roll, to which Lizzie responded with a disapproving click of her tongue.

  Regardless of what Amanda had said, she knew that her mother was right. The bishop was a busy man, with upwards of twenty-five families to minister to in his church district. On top of that responsibility, he also had to maintain his livelihood, which, in their bishop’s case, was as a shopkeeper. With so much to do, he rarely made social calls just for the sake of merely extending pleasantries.

  “Oh help,” Lizzie muttered, giving the counter a quick wipe down with a dish towel. “I do hope nothing’s wrong.”

  Her mother’s fretfulness irritated Amanda. Even before his footsteps sounded on the steps to the porch, Amanda knew that whatever had brought the bishop to their doorstep most certainly had to do with her. During each of her trips home, the bishop had made it his duty to come to the house with the sole purpose of reminding her that she might still be Amish by birth, but she was no longer Amish by choice.

  With her mother and Anna quickly putting away the freshly washed bowls they had used for baking, Amanda sighed. She stood up and glanced at the clock. Not quite two o’clock. Isadora wouldn’t wake from her nap for another hour. With no reason to avoid the bishop, she wiped her hands on her apron. “Reckon I best go invite him inside,” she said in a low voice as she began crossing the kitchen floor toward the mudroom.

  Before she could reach for the doorknob, the door opened and Jonas walked inside, followed by the bishop. Jonas glanced at Amanda and then quickly averted his eyes. That expression solidified what she already knew: the bishop was bringing her bad news indeed.

  “Good day, Lizzie. Anna.” He glanced over at Elias and nodded his head. “How’s he faring today?”

  Lizzie wrung her hands. “Just about the same, Bishop. Not much difference, except I noticed he’s eating less.”

  The bishop walked toward him and leaned forward. “You need to eat, Elias. Don’t be giving Lizzie a hard time about that, you hear?”

  Disgusted, Elias rolled his head to one side and stared out the window.

  Straightening, the bishop looked over at Amanda. “You wouldn’t happen to have a free moment now, would you?”

  Respectfully, Amanda nodded, her eyes shifting for just a moment to look at Anna. They exchanged an unspoken communication: Anna urging her to remain respectful, and Amanda conveying the dread she felt at being called upon by the bishop. Without a further moment’s delay, she followed him outside so that they could talk in private.

  His black boots, scuffed at the heels, walked slowly down the walkway that led away from the house and toward the barn. He kept his hands clutched behind his back, and she noticed that his shoulders were stooped. There was something else, a limp as he walked. He had aged in the past few months and, for a split second, she felt regret that her presence in Lititz seemed to constantly create unnecessary stress for the man.

  “Amanda,” he began slowly. “I saw you at church last Sunday.”

  She waited for him to continue as she walked alongside him. He had greeted her with the customary handshake when he entered the room, his eyes glancing down at the child that clung to her dress.

  “And with a child, ja?”

  Ah, Amanda thought. So this is what his visit is about. “Ja, my stepdaughter.”

  “I see.”

  They walked a few more paces in silence. Overhead, a blue jay flew into the branches of a tree and one of the older barn cats tried to climb the trunk to catch it. When that failed, the cat sauntered away, its tail in the air.

  “As I have come to understand it, you have returned and intend to stay for a while, ja?”

  “I . . .” She hesitated, uncertain how to respond. She knew what he wanted her to say, that she was leaving and would take Isadora with her. After all, the bishop had made his position clear to her numerous times in the past. The truth was, Amanda didn’t know what she intended to do. She stopped walking, and when he realized that she was no longer beside him, the bishop did the same.

  She couldn’t help but wonder who was talking about her—and to the bishop no less! It wasn’t as though she had any friends left. Those with whom she used to socialize at school and during her rumschpringe were either married and had moved into a new church district or were merely avoiding her for fear of developing a worldly reputation among the church members. Amanda understood their reasons, and when she reflected upon the matter, she realized that, had she taken her kneeling vow, she would have probably done the same.

  Besides, she remembered all too well how the members of the community reacted when Alejandro first stayed at her parents’ farm. The gossip that traveled through the Amish grapevine, the looks from other Amish people at the market, and the intrusion of the paparazzi on her parents’ farm quickly made Alejandro an unwelcome visitor in Lititz, Pennsylvania. Now that she was married to him, she fell into the same category.

  The bishop gestured for her to continue walking with him farther away from the house. She presumed that, whatever he wanted to discuss, he didn’t want anyone to overhear.

  “It has come to my attention that this husband of yours—”

  “Alejandro,” she interrupted, hoping she had masked her irritation that, after all of this time and the numerous interactions she’d had with the bishop regarding Alejandro, he still insisted on calling him anything but his name.

  The bishop made a noise acknowledging her. “Alejandro, then. It has come to my attention that he has left you here and that there is strife within your marriage.”

  Once again, she was left with a dry taste in her mouth. How the bishop knew such intimate details, she could only imagine. While the Amish grapevine spread stories almost as quickly as social media among the Englische, this information most likely came from another source. She suspected the tabloid newspapers and magazines were the culprits as they’d certainly carried stories about Viper’s departure to Europe without Amanda. From the way the paparazzi continued to stake out the farm, Amanda knew her presence in Lancaster was well known. However, she worried about the content of those stories. They were usually blown out of proportion and in some cases were outright lies.

  “Alejandro is in Europe, ja,” she said in a measured tone.

  The bishop nodded his head, indicating that he already knew that fact. “Will you be joining him
or returning to Miami, then?”

  She bit her lower lip. If only Alejandro would reach out to her. Without that first step, she knew that there was little chance of salvaging the marriage. He had, after all, deserted her. With each day her hopes faded, especially now that he was on tour. She knew from experience the temptations that he would confront. Without her by his side, would he succumb to the seduction of his former lifestyle?

  “Given time, I imagine so,” she finally said.

  The bishop inhaled deeply, his eyes wandering across the fields still devoid of growth. Soon they would be green with the beginnings of the corn they’d planted just the previous week. Spring was a beautiful time on the farm, and the bishop seemed to take a moment to absorb it.

  “You must know, Amanda,” he said, his attention still turned elsewhere, “that I was not fond of your decisions. You have made a lot of choices that have impacted many people.”

  She remained silent, waiting for his lecture. Perhaps he would even go so far as to point out the obvious: whether she admitted it or not, her husband had clearly left her behind when he went on tour. And that was not the sign of a healthy marriage.

  “But God has reasons that we do not always understand. I believe quite strongly that this is your chosen course, the life he wants for you.” He paused, and in that brief respite he turned toward her. “I wouldn’t dare question his authority. Whatever is happening in your marriage with this Englischer, I cannot pretend to have the knowledge to provide guidance, Amanda. I can only turn to Scripture: the wife is bound by the law as long as her husband liveth.” He looked at her with a stern expression. “That is not man’s law but God’s law. Man has a choice: follow the law of God or the law of sin. The decision is yours, Amanda.”

  She clenched her teeth and fought the urge to reply.

  And then he said something that surprised her. “But that is not why I am here, Amanda. You are, after all, an adult and you know what you are doing.” He started walking again, this time toward his buggy. The door was already open, so he reached inside and handed her a plain brown envelope. “I wanted to leave this with you. I feel strongly that you should see these, Amanda. I believe it will assist you in making your decision.” As he placed the envelope into her hands, he made eye contact with her. “Remember, it is your choice as to which law you would follow.”

  When she took the envelope from him, it felt heavier than she thought. She glanced down at it and started to peel back the flap that sealed it.

  “Nee, Amanda,” the bishop said gently, stopping her with his hand. “I would recommend looking at the contents in private.”

  She waited until the bishop left, the package still in her hands. Her curiosity was countered only with dread. Whatever was inside the envelope was not of a pleasant nature. She knew that without looking. She suspected that the bishop had given her a collection of news stories about Alejandro being in Europe without her, photos of him with other women, tabloid stories that would bring her to her knees.

  With dread building inside her chest, she clutched the envelope and turned to the house. It was better to wait to open it until later in the evening, when no one else was around. The bishop had warned her not to open it until she was alone, and she didn’t want to risk getting upset in front of her family.

  “Amanda!”

  Harvey jogged from the barn toward her. His skin glistened from working in the dairy where the air did not circulate; on warm days it became hot and humid.

  She tried to smile as she greeted him.

  He took off his hat and with the back of his arm he wiped at the beads of sweat on his forehead. “Jonas isn’t home, and I wondered if you might help with the milking this afternoon,” he asked. Then, with a grin, he added, “Mayhaps Izzie would help, too. You know, she’s learned how to squirt the milk into the cats’ mouths.”

  “She has, has she, then?” Amanda smiled at the thought. Growing up on the farm made for wonderful memories. She remembered when her father had taught her the same trick. How she had loved to tease the cats, who sat in a row when she milked, anticipating the sweet treat of fresh cows’ milk. “When she wakes, we’ll come out then.”

  Anna and Lizzie stood in the exact spot where Amanda had left them. They stared at her with unspoken questions on their lips and wide eyes. When Amanda volunteered no information, her mother glanced at the envelope she held.

  “Everything all right, then?”

  Amanda nodded at her mother. “Ja, right as rain.” She avoided their inquisitive gaze and gestured toward the door that led between the main house and the grossdaadihaus. “I best go check on Izzie. We’ll be helping Harvey with the evening milking anyway.”

  Once inside the grossdaadihaus, she left the envelope unopened on her kitchen table. For a moment, she contemplated opening it to read through whatever horrible things had been printed in the media. She didn’t even want to envision the photos.

  Just as quickly as she thought of opening it, she decided to hold off. If she knew nothing, she could say nothing. By the morning, no one would inquire further about the matter. Instead, they would continue with their own pleasures, the simple things in life such as baking or gardening. Only Amanda would be left with the burden of whatever contents the envelope contained. There were times when knowledge seemed a heavier burden than unknowing bliss. She suspected this was one of those times.

  So it wasn’t until four hours later, after Isadora had gone to bed, that Amanda sat at the table under the light from the overhead propane lantern and contemplated the envelope. She studied it and speculated about what the bishop had found. The very fact that he had taken the time to bring these items to her attention spoke volumes about how much their relationship, which had once been so volatile, had evolved over the past year.

  But now it was time. She dreaded opening the envelope, for she knew whatever was inside was going to cost her plenty: emotionally, spiritually, and psychologically. She prayed for stronger balance in the ongoing conflict between her upbringing and the life that she had married into. As of yet, God had not answered that prayer.

  Her fingers trembled as she slid open the sealed flap of the envelope. Tilting it, she poured the contents out onto the table. As she had suspected, it was filled with articles from tabloids. She shuffled through them, staring at the articles and photos, the feeling of a horrible lump increasing in her chest.

  “Oh help,” she whispered, her fingers reaching out to touch the items, moving them apart so that she could take them all in.

  The bishop had performed a great service by bringing these items to her attention in such a confidential manner. She let her fingers touch the different photos. The headlines didn’t surprise her. Each one implied infidelity, betrayal, and divorce. What did surprise her, however, was that the photos and articles were not about Alejandro. Instead, they were about her: photos of her on the farm, photos of her in town, photos of her in the car. And all of the photos showed Harvey by her side.

  As she sat there contemplating the meaning of the stories, she thought back to when Alejandro had come to the farm after the South American tour. When he’d arrived, Harvey had walked outside the barn with Isadora in his arms and a smile on his face. Amanda remembered how Isadora barely greeted her father, practically avoiding him as she ran inside to be with the rest of the family. And Amanda remembered how in the middle of the night after having made love to her—what she now recognized as his parting gesture, a gesture that spoke more of his love for her personal happiness than his own—he had left before the sun had fully crested the horizon.

  Suddenly, everything became clear.

  After the disastrous South American tour, when Amanda had left with Isadora, Alejandro must have been more than hurt. His lifestyle was too much for her, and when he came to Lancaster to retrieve her, he’d likely seen her with fresh eyes.

  She knew now that he had left her because he thought Lancaster was the right place for her and perhaps even for Isadora. By leaving her in Lancaste
r, he thought she had the opportunity to return to her culture and religion. The tabloids had run with the story of Amanda leaving Alejandro and returning to the arms of Harvey Alderfer, a man much better suited for an Amish girl. After all, the sole purpose of tabloids was to sell papers, and what sold better than a sordid story of sin and sex?

  Disgusted, Amanda pushed the papers away and leaned back into the chair. Her mind raced, whirling with random, untamed thoughts. If she had felt horrified at first, she now felt nothing but anger. Wasn’t it Celinda who’d told her she should believe nothing in the media? Hadn’t Celinda warned her that there were parts to be played—a form of pandering to the public—that necessitated giving the fans the stories they wanted? It was an unspoken contract: stars provided fodder for gossip to the public so that the public could live vicariously through them.

  “If they want something to talk about,” she said out loud, “they shall have it.”

  Alejandro greeted Enrique with a friendly bear hug, clapping him on the back and laughing when Enrique did the same.

  “¡Amigo! Good to see you!” Alejandro said, holding him at arm’s length.

  They were in Madrid, getting ready for the first series of European concerts. With Enrique as his opening act, Alejandro knew the tour would sell out. Enrique appealed to the same audience as Viper, but he also appealed to younger women. By teaming up on tour, both expanded their reach. And since they often recorded songs together, the pairing was well received onstage.

  “¡Sí, chico! Good to be back on tour.” Enrique sank into the sofa in Alejandro’s suite, crossing his one leg so that his ankle rested on his knee. He wore a simple outfit: ripped jeans, a white T-shirt, and construction boots. With his boyish good looks and naturally dark skin, he never had any trouble with the ladies. “I stay in one place for too long . . .” He didn’t finish the sentence, but he didn’t have to.

  “You just arrived?”

  Enrique nodded. “Just arrived from Las Vegas. Ten days at the Colosseum. Hail Caesar!” He looked around the hotel suite. Alejandro spared no expense in procuring luxurious comforts when he traveled. Enrique looked slightly impressed. “You hit the arena today?”