by Sarah Price
“I don’t know what that means, but I do know that you can let me go now,” she said flatly, convincing herself that she meant it. Deep down, she really didn’t. She liked feeling the pressure of his arm around her waist. She liked smelling his woody cologne. She liked simply being near him. But to say such things . . . nee . . . to even think such things was most un-Amish and definitely verboden, forbidden by the Ordnung.
She wasn’t certain if he read her mind or not, but he hesitated, just long enough to whisper in a teasing tone, “I can, sí?” His breath was warm on her neck, and she felt her skin jump, like tiny shock waves.
“Ja!” she said forcefully, trying to avoid looking at him.
Chuckling to himself, he released her from his grasp. But the movement was too sudden, and she wobbled backward. “Nee,” he murmured. “I think not.” Pulling her back into his arms, he stared down into her face and hesitated for a moment. His eyes seemed to search hers, but it was hard to tell since his were hidden behind sunglasses. Then, smiling once again, he said, “I think, instead, you should lean on me, and we will get those crutches together.”
Giving in, she let him continue holding her waist as she hopped beside him. She knew that her cheeks were still brilliant red and that she was beyond embarrassed. Yet, at the same time, she felt more alive than she ever had before. He had laughed at her, whispered in her ear, and held her in a manner that made warmth spread throughout her veins. She had never experienced anything or anyone like Alejandro Diaz before in her life.
He was a gentleman, holding her gently, and when they stood before the crutches, he leaned down to get them for her. For a moment, he focused on helping her gain her balance, his expression serious until he was satisfied that she wasn’t going to fall again.
“I’m fine,” she said softly. Then, before she forgot her manners, she quickly added, “Danke, Alejandro.”
“Your mamm sent me to find you,” he explained, obviously aware of her discomfort. “It’s time for dinner, she asked me to tell you.”
Trying to act calm and collected, she nodded her head in acknowledgment before using her crutches to walk back toward the house. She could still hear him chuckling to himself as he walked behind her. She wished that she could glance over her shoulder at him, to see the expression on his face, and to let him know that she didn’t find this funny. But, instead, she felt that warmth inside her veins rise again as she remembered him holding her, her chest pressed just enough against his to feel his heart beating beneath the soft fabric of his fancy Englische shirt.
“My word,” Lizzie said when Amanda came in through the door. “What happened to you?” She hurried over to Amanda and began brushing the grass off her dress. “Amanda!”
“I fell,” Amanda offered, her explanation curt and simple. She set her crutches against the table as she sat down on the bench. When she noticed her mother staring at her, she sighed and provided more details. “I was weeding the garden, and Alejandro helped me get up.”
“Are you all right, then?” Lizzie fussed.
“Ja, ja,” Amanda said, forcing a smile that she didn’t feel like sharing. She was still thinking about his arms around her. She had felt so warm and safe in his hold, even if only for those brief few seconds. It made her long for more time alone with him. “I just have to learn my limits, I reckon.”
Alejandro and Elias walked into the kitchen, talking between themselves about plans for the afternoon. Amanda felt her heart jump as she saw the glow in her father’s eyes. Clearly, he was enjoying having some male companionship around the farm. And from the looks of it, she realized, Alejandro was feeling just as relaxed around her daed.
“Might take a ride over to the Edwardses’ farm later,” Elias said after they had prayed. He picked up his fork and started to eat.
“You mean that Jake Edwards?” Lizzie said as she passed around the bowls of steaming potatoes and vegetables. She frowned. “Whatever for?”
“Thought Alejandro might like seeing some of his horses,” Elias said, winking at Amanda. “I’d offer to take you along but . . .”
“But what?” she said, perking up.
“Not so sure with your leg and all,” her daed said.
She slumped on the bench and scowled as she picked at her food.
Lizzie frowned. “That’s an awful long ride just to see some horses.”
Elias looked at Alejandro, ignoring Lizzie’s comment. “This Edwards fellow moved here a few years back. Inherited his grandfather’s farm. Breeds the most gorgeous Standardbred horses you’ve ever seen.”
“We don’t need any horses,” Amanda said wryly.
“He was an Englischer,” Elias added, ignoring Amanda’s comment. “Married a young Amish woman, and they both joined the church later.”
Alejandro raised an eyebrow. “Really? People do that?”
Lizzie looked up and, for the briefest moment, stared at him. Amanda noticed the look on her mother’s face and saw her expression change. She was glad that no one else was looking at her mother for certainly they would have read her mind as easily as she had. “Not very often,” Lizzie finally said, a serious tone in her voice. Her eyes flickered toward Amanda, and she held her daughter’s gaze.
“Can’t imagine just anyone could do that,” Alejandro said, unaware of the unspoken conversation between Amanda and Lizzie. “It would be hard to leave the convenience of the world, sí? As peaceful as it is here, I can’t envision many people being capable of doing it.”
Lizzie lowered her eyes and picked at her food. She didn’t seem to follow the conversation anymore. Amanda was too aware of her mamm’s silence, but after a few minutes, she shrugged it off. If her mamm was worried about Alejandro wanting to convert to being Amish, she was a long way off track. He was too much a product of the Englische world to give it up, that was for sure and certain.
Yet she envied him. Unlike most folks, he had the opportunity to straddle both worlds. Not many people could travel the world, entertaining millions of adoring fans, then disappear to the quaint peace and quiet of Lititz, Pennsylvania. She wondered what it would be like to experience his world, even if just for a few days. Her curiosity was piqued, and her mind wandered as the afternoon passed. She tried to imagine what life would be like in big cities, living in hotels and having people fawn all over her.
She was stretched out on the sofa in the kitchen, a basketful of thread at her side as she crocheted a blanket in various colors of blue. She hated the scratchy feeling of the blanket against her skin and kept pushing it onto the sofa. If she couldn’t help around the house or outside in the garden anymore that day, she could at least keep busy with the crocheting.
“It’s awful warm for crocheting that blanket, ain’t so?” Lizzie asked with a look of concern as she sat down in the chair next to the sofa. “Mayhaps you should crochet something lighter, like a table runner or place mats.”
Amanda shrugged. “Need to finish this one, Mamm. Might as well do it now while I have time.” But she kept miscounting her stitches and having to pull out some of the rows. Frustrated, she shoved the ball of yarn and crochet hook aside, then leaned her head back on the sofa.
She needed to get out of the house, wanted to walk around or go somewhere. She was tired of not being able to move freely and at her own will. She wondered why her daed hadn’t asked her to ride along to the Edwardses’ farm, to see the horses and visit with his wife, Sylvia. Clearly, he was bonding with Alejandro, viewing him as a surrogate son. A wave of guilt flooded through her, and she reached for her crutches.
“Going to go lie down a bit, Mamm,” she said.
She shut the door to the downstairs bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Her mind floated back to the conversation she’d had with Alejandro the evening before, and she flushed as she remembered how bold she had allowed herself to be. How could she have asked him that question? she wondered. And why did h
is answer bother her so much?
Covering her face with her hands, she tried to erase the memory. Because I respect you, he had said. That said so much about who he was as a man as well as whom he truly wanted to be. She had suspected that he was troubled, struggling with inner demons. Now she knew for a fact that he was staying at their farm for more than just a few days of relaxation. Indeed, it was a respite with the intention of searching for himself. Unfortunately, the more he searched for himself, the more she felt as if she was losing herself. Yes, she realized, she was losing herself to him.
Even when he had held her earlier, she had felt lost. She imagined it was the same feeling someone would have if she were drowning. Yes, that was how she felt, as if water surrounded her, embracing her and calming her in the very moment when she knew that, unless she could break free, she would be lost forever. Would she give in to the final hold of the depths of the sea or would she struggle to return to the only world she had ever known?
It was close to evening chores time when she heard the buggy wheels rattle down the driveway. Her heart began to flutter, and she quickly moved over to the dresser, picking up the small hand mirror in order to fix her hair and pinch her cheeks. Then, grabbing her crutches, she hobbled into the kitchen and, as quick as she could, she sat down on the sofa. Leaning back, she tried to look as if she had been sitting there for a while.
Her mamm was coming down the stairs when the men walked into the kitchen. She paused at the bottom step as they entered the room, laughing and smiling. Clearly, they had enjoyed themselves on their excursion to the Edwardses’ horse farm.
“How were the horses?” Amanda asked, sitting up straight as Alejandro entered the room.
“Ay, Princesa,” he gushed, rushing over to her. “¡Qué lindos!” She frowned at him, and he laughed, kneeling before her. “Beautiful, just incredibly beautiful.” He winked at her and playfully mouthed, “Como tú.” She didn’t have to understand Spanish to know what he said. Immediately, she blushed and looked away, clearly thankful that her parents hadn’t witnessed that tender moment. Her reaction delighted him. “I wish you could have gone. The young colts were running in the field.”
Elias nodded, turning his attention to Lizzie. “Becoming quite a breeder, that Jake Edwards. He is training some wunderbar gut horses. Says he already has quite a waiting list for next year’s foals.”
“Expensive, too, no?” Alejandro added, twisting on his knee so that he was looking at Elias.
With a simple shrug of his shoulders, Elias agreed. “For sure, but a gut horse is worth it, ja? And cheaper than an automobile.”
“I don’t have to scoop up after my cars,” Alejandro replied lightly, and they both laughed. He stood up and walked over toward the door that led to the section of the house where he was staying. “Now, if you will excuse me,” he said. “I must check my messages.”
Amanda stared after him, her heart pounding inside her chest. To him, it was teasing. She knew that, by now. But she felt different about his words and flirtations. That drowning feeling overcame her once again, and she tried to will herself to calm down. But she couldn’t. Her heart fluttered, and her face felt flushed. She knew that the water was over her head, and for the first time, she realized that she was giving in to the feeling, allowing herself to fall even deeper into the dark, watery abyss that surrounded her.
Chapter Ten
Later that evening, as the sun set behind the fields, casting a bright mixture of colors against the blue sky, the crickets chirped from the growing grasses and the birds sang from the branches of the trees. The air had cooled, but there was still a layer of humidity. Still, it was pleasant enough that Alejandro asked to take Amanda for a walk down the driveway.
Elias was quick to grant permission, saying it would be right gut for her to get the exercise. Only Amanda noticed the look of concern that crossed her mother’s face. But Amanda ignored it, eager to escape the house and more than happy to have an excuse to spend more time alone with Alejandro, this amazing Englische man who had captured her thoughts all afternoon. Perhaps even more than her thoughts, she started to wonder.
As always, Alejandro was the perfect gentleman. He walked next to her, matching her slow pace, for she was still adapting to using her crutches. He guided her as she carefully walked down the dirt lane that cut through the back of the farm.
Now the sky was changing colors. The more the sun set, the more the horizon darkened, the reds and oranges blending into grays, blues, and deep purples. A cool breeze blew from the northwest and rippled across the growing crops of corn.
As they walked—Alejandro, with his hands behind his back, and Amanda, focusing on avoiding holes in the lane—he asked her questions about growing up Amish in Lancaster County. Unlike the questions most Englischers asked on the few occasions she encountered them, during her recent summer trip to and from Ohio or at the market, his questions did not seem condescending. Instead, he seemed genuinely interested in learning about the culture and the religion.
“No electricity at all?” he asked.
She shrugged her shoulders. “Obviously, diesel-fuel-powered energy in the dairy for keeping the milk fresh.”
He gave her a sideways glance. “But why, Princesa?”
The explanation was involved, too involved, and sometimes she didn’t understand it herself. So she hesitated, trying to find a way to explain the rationale behind that decision. “Hmm,” she said, still thinking. She could feel him watching her, those blue eyes drinking her in, and she felt the color flood to her cheeks. Lowering her eyes, she cleared her throat before speaking. “It’s a connection, Alejandro. A connection with the outside world that isolates people. Without electricity, we have to work together, help each other with chores, and spend time together. It keeps us closer to each other and, by extension, to God.”
From the way his expression changed, she could tell that he was contemplating her words, and when he nodded his head, she knew that he understood.
“It’s like in Cuba,” he said. “We grew up poor and didn’t have much. So we spent time together and that helped create the ties of family.”
Oh, how she wanted to know more. She wished she could see his memories and feel his experiences. It sounded so romantic: life on an island, surrounded by crystal blue water and festive music. She wanted to know what it was like moving to a new country and learning a new language.
“Tell me,” she said. “Tell me how you feel about your life then, Alejandro.”
Lifting one eyebrow and tilting his head, he smiled, but just slightly. She knew that most people didn’t ask about his upbringing. In fact, she sensed that, in his world of music and travel and fans, he didn’t have many people who cared about his past . . . only his future.
“You want to know about Cuba?” he asked.
Nodding her head, she met his gaze and felt the warmth of his appreciation for her interest in his culture, especially when so many people were curious about her own.
So he talked. He told her about growing up, first in Cuba, then about his days as a young Cuban teenager in Miami. His father drank a lot and spent most of their money on himself. Alejandro declared, however, that despite those flaws, he was a decent man. There was always food on the table, even if it wasn’t good food. When his mother finally had enough of the drinking, she found a way to leave and bring her son to America.
He told her about living in Miami and how the streets became an extension of his home. “I learned to fight early,” he said. “Survival of the fittest.”
She didn’t want to admit that she didn’t know what that meant. Amish people never fought, unless they were small children, and even then, the consequences were so severe that it usually only happened once in their lifetime.
“My mother, sí? She worked several jobs and . . .” He paused, thinking. His eyes misted over, and she knew that he was remembering his youth. “Let’s just le
ave it that there are things I did to survive that would not have impressed you.”
“I wouldn’t judge you! I told you that before,” she gushed. In truth, what did her opinion matter? The final judge for each individual was God. “God forgives those who confess their sins,” she added softly.
The lane didn’t seem long enough as they came to its end, the continuation simply consisting of two ruts in the dirt where her daed regularly drove the mules and field equipment.
“Santa Barbara got me through some rough times,” he said, his voice breaking the silence.
Amanda looked at him. “Santa Barbara?”
He reached into the front of his shirt and pulled out a gold medallion that was hanging from a thin chain. He kissed it once before showing it to her. “Santa Barbara,” he said by way of introduction.
A frown crossed Amanda’s face, and she refused to touch it, despite him leaning over for her to see it better. “What is that?”
“It’s a medallion of Santa Barbara,” he said as if she should know what he was talking about. But from the look on her face, he quickly assessed that she was not familiar with patron saints. “You don’t know?”
“Is that part of your religion?”
“Sí.” He nodded, tucking the medallion back inside his shirt. “She protects us.”
“God protects us,” Amanda said quickly in response.
“Sí, God protects us,” Alejandro agreed. “But he, too, can use some help from time to time, sí?”
Amanda looked away from him. She wasn’t certain how to respond. After all, she had never heard of saints before, so she didn’t want to insult his beliefs. Obviously, they both believed in God and Jesus Christ. Was it sinful to believe in something more? Did that dilute his love for God? Could it dilute God’s love for him?