Plain Again (4 page)

Chapter Three

Danke for finding Harvey.

He’s such a good worker.

How was the concert last night?

Waiting to hear from you.

<3

A.

As she walked outside, Amanda pulled the black shawl that was slung across her shoulders tighter over the front of her dress. It was cold outside, and the sky was gray. The sun had not risen yet, despite the early-morning hour. She missed the blue skies of Miami and the smell of fresh sea air that permeated the penthouse where she lived with Alejandro, even though the sounds of the farm and smell of the cows comforted her. Whenever a horse-drawn buggy rolled down the road, she paused and lifted her head, listening to the musical humming of the wheels against the macadam. Yes, she had missed that, too.

“Gut mariye,”
she said as she greeted Harvey. He was already in the barn, tending to the morning milking. A soft-spoken man but reliable, that was how Amanda would have described Harvey, had anyone asked. But she had no one to speak to. Not even Alejandro.

It had been two days since they had spoken on the telephone. With his concerts ending so late at night and then having to travel to other locations, he certainly slept until early afternoon. Amanda knew too well how taxing the concerts and the constant travel were on him, both physically and emotionally. When she was going to bed at night, he was just starting his work. Their schedules were too diverse, and she doubted that she would hear from him yet again today.

That realization saddened her.

Each morning, she’d glance at the calendar and try to figure out what Alejandro was doing that day. She knew he had finished recording in Los Angeles and thought he was now in Boston for two nights before heading to Providence for a Sunday night concert. After that, he would be in New York for almost a week. That had been the plan. But she never knew for certain since his itinerary could change at a moment’s notice.

Soon it would be Thanksgiving, and he was scheduled to perform in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, whatever that was. And then, two more concerts in New York City: one on Friday and another Saturday. There would be more concerts after that: Houston, Milwaukee, Kansas City, and then back to Los Angeles for the Jingle Ball concert. There were a couple of weeks for a break before he was scheduled to return to New York City to ring in the new year at Times Square.

It was a grueling schedule, but when she had looked at the travel dates for the next year, she found herself in shock over where he would perform: countries in almost every continent. Some countries would include performances in multiple cities, Brazil in particular. When she had looked over the list, she had commented on the European leg of his tour.

“How is this possible?” she had asked, trying to understand the logistics behind all those dates and places listed on the schedule.

“¿Qué?”
He had been flipping through some papers, numbers from recent concerts, when she had asked the question. “What are you looking at, Princesa?”

She had pointed to the paper. “This schedule. It’s . . . it’s . . .”

He had glanced at it and laughed. “
Grueling, no?
”

“Ja!”
With a shake of her head, she had started reading it out loud.
“Russia, Norway, Germany, and Sweden. All in one week?” He had continued laughing. “The next week, Finland, Poland, Croatia, and England.” She had tossed the paper onto the table. “
My word! I
’ve never even heard of some of these places! Croatia?”

Now, just thinking about his schedule exhausted her. When she had traveled with him, she hadn’t noticed how hectic the travel was. She just went along, not really paying attention to where they were going next. It was easier being on the inside looking out than on the outside looking in. Indeed, the more she thought about it, the more she realized she would barely be able to keep up with his innumerable flights, cities, and commitments. It was too hard to remember where he was staying and when he was leaving. She only wished that she could be with him.

In silence, Amanda began to move down the line of cows, trying to focus on the task at hand rather than the pain in her heart. She leaned her cheek against the warmth of the cow as she started milking her, breathing in the musky scent of the cow’s hide as the machine worked the udder.

“Think she’
s done,
” a voice said from behind her.

Amanda looked up, her thoughts interrupted. “Hmm?” She was surprised that Harvey had spoken to her. He was usually so quiet that she often forgot he was even there.

He gestured toward the cow. “No more milk there,” he said.

Quickly, Amanda looked down and, realizing that she had been daydreaming, laughed at her own mistake. The machine was drawing air at this point, and the cow was stomping her back hoof impatiently. “I reckon you’re right,” she said lightly, and quickly moved on to the next cow.

The sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon when she heard the sound of an approaching buggy driving down the lane toward the house. She stood up and tried to peer out the open door, but the driver had stopped the buggy just on the other side. She looked over at Harvey. “Need to see who that is, I reckon.”

“I can finish up,” was his simple reply.

The bishop and the deacon were standing together by the buggy when she emerged from the dairy barn. It hadn’t really surprised her that they would visit, just that it had taken so long.

“Gut mariye,”
she called out, trying to sound friendly. She knew that the visit was not going to be pleasant, but she had been bracing for this moment since her return to the farm.

The bishop leveled his gaze at her, a stern look on his face. She had never realized how austere he looked prior to that moment, an awareness that took her by surprise, especially when she realized that she was not intimidated. With his long white beard and dark clothing, there was a suggestion of authority to the man. Yet, she had always been taught that God was the true authority for all humankind. The sudden and unexpected awareness of how his image conflicted with what she had been taught all of her life shocked her. Only time and distance could have shown her the truth behind the impression that he presented.

Whatever happened to
And whosoever will be chief among you, let him be your servant?
she found herself wondering, too aware of the sarcasm within her thought process.

“Amanda,” the bishop said as acknowledgment, his eyes cold and piercing. “I trust your mother is inside?”

“Ja,”
Amanda replied, trying not to sound too unaffected by his presence. Humility, she told herself. Even if forced, it was better to be perceived as humble with the bishop standing before her and inquiring about her
mamm
. “She’ll be leaving for the hospital to visit with Daed later. They say he’s to come home soon.”

The fact that he did not frighten her, at least not for her sake, would not bode well for her parents. She remembered only too well how it was not that long ago that the bishop had insisted that she leave the community. He had wanted her to relocate the problem of the paparazzi to Ohio, far too willing to let another community deal with the stress of sudden fame for one of their members, a fame that had neither been sought nor wanted.

Now that she had returned, what would the bishop demand this time? She couldn’t help but wonder why he had come to visit. She had been home almost two weeks now without any hint of support from the
g’may
. While
that
had surprised her, she had come to realize that the safety and protection of the community as a whole outweighed the needs of any individual.

As she gestured toward the house, indicating that they should follow her there in order to speak with her
mamm
, the two men nodded but did not speak. They shared no words expressing relief that Elias was going to be all right or that he was well enough to return to the farm. No hints of gratitude that Amanda had returned to help her family or that her husband had hired a local man to work the dairy. Instead, the cold looks on their faces told Amanda all that she needed to know: once again, this was not a social visit.

Inside the house, Lizzie was bustling about the kitchen, cleaning the morning dishes before her hired driver would arrive as scheduled each morning to pick her up for the twenty-minute drive to Lancaster General Hospital. With such a distance between the hospital and the farm, she wouldn’t be returning until later that evening and wanted to finish her morning chores before leaving.

Amanda knew, however, that her
mamm
was really just trying to keep busy while she waited for the driver. Most of the chores would fall on Amanda’s shoulders while her
mamm
stayed by her husband’s side, holding his hand or reading from the
Budget
, while they waited for doctors to complete tests or share information. Amanda would do the house cleaning and laundry by herself before retreating outside to help the hired man with some of the barn chores.

At night, she was exhausted, but she enjoyed the work. How different, she had thought just the previous evening, from my life in Miami. In Miami, she had little work to do since Señora Perez ran the household. The days had passed by at a leisurely pace, often with Amanda waiting for Alejandro to awaken after long nights or return from business in Miami proper. After their marriage, she had lounged in his arms, despite being wide-awake as the sun cast an orange blush through the window curtains. Neither wanting to awaken him nor to leave his embrace, she had often lain there for hours until he stirred.

Now, as she was back at her parents’ farm working, she found that hard work—physical labor—helped pass the time. Her body ached at night, but her mind felt at peace. She much preferred the hard work to sitting in the hospital at her
daed
’s bedside, now that she knew he would be all right.

When her
mamm
heard the door open, she called out, “Done already then, Amanda? Mayhaps you’ll ride along with me to the hospital?”

“Mamm,” Amanda said softly, glancing over her shoulder at the two men who were close on her heels. “Bishop’s here.”

The visitors entered the room and removed their hats, standing awkwardly in the middle of the kitchen. The bishop’s stern eyes stared at Amanda with her dark plaid dress that was gathered at the waist. Her head was uncovered, exposing her hair, which was pulled back into a neat but braided bun at the nape of her neck. Over her shoulders, she wore a simple knit sweater and tall boots under the skirt of the dress.

His stare sent a chill through Amanda. The judgment that she could already feel from the bishop caused her to tilt her chin defiantly. Had it only been six months ago that whatever the bishop said was immediately taken as gospel by Amanda? Now, as she faced him for the second time in the same time period, she saw him in a new light. A very different one.

No longer did she fear the bishop and what he could do to her. Since she had chosen to not take the kneeling vow, the bishop did not make decisions for her. She was also steadfast in her acceptance that he would not frighten her away from her familial responsibilities. Her actions would not change, and this despite the bishop’s hints that her presence would injure her parents, from both a social and a religious perspective. No, Amanda told herself, she had come home to help, and home was where she was going to stay, for the moment.

“We were surprised to hear that you had returned,” the bishop started, his expression stern, but something in his eyes told her that he had become aware that Amanda was no longer intimidated by him. It was clear that her confidence unnerved him. It was not something that he was used to, not when facing his people. “And with you, those Englische men with their cars clogging the road and their cameras stealing our photos!”

“My father is in the hospital,” Amanda said matter-of-factly, as a way of explanation.

Lizzie began to fuss, rubbing her hands together nervously. “Amanda was kind enough to return home to help with the farm while her
daed
is unwell,
” she offered.

The bishop turned to look at her, his eyes cool and emotionless. “So I have heard.” He cleared his throat as he shifted his eyes to Amanda. “I have also heard that there is a hired man helping here as well.”

“My husband arranged for that,” Amanda stated, feeling a sense of pride that her own husband had stepped forward to offer extra help when the rest of the community had not. Had they expected her
mamm
to milk, feed, and muck the cows? Had they expected her to abandon her duties to her husband when he needed her the most? Or, she wondered, were they punishing her
mamm
for her daughter leaving the community?

“Is he plain?”

Amanda fought the urge to roll her eyes. What difference does it make? she wanted to ask. “He is Mennonite. From Ephrata.” The bishop raised an eyebrow, and Amanda felt the need to explain. “He was a farmer but lost his farm. Now he hires himself out to others, and Alejandro is paying for him to help while Daed
is unwell.
”

“Then you will be leaving soon,
ja
? And taking with you those people?”

Amanda wished that Alejandro had been next to her in order to confront the abrupt manner with which she was being addressed. However, she knew it was most likely best that he was not here, for she could only imagine what his response would have been. Always the gentleman, he would have found a way to defend her while letting the bishop know that his manner of speech was totally unacceptable.

But he wasn’t there to speak on her behalf. Since the question had been directed to her, Amanda knew that the bishop was waiting for her response. While disappointed in his abrupt manner of addressing her, she knew that she had made the choice to leave the Amish community while her parents had not. She needed to respond and to choose her words wisely. The last thing she wanted to do was to say something confrontational that would jeopardize her parents’ standing in the church.