Authors: Sarah Price

Amish Circle Letters (31 page)

BOOK: Amish Circle Letters

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“Is she dressed in a costume?” the driver asked.

Alejandro looked up, caught off-guard by the question. “Costume?”

“She looks like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz.”

“She’s Amish, you idiot,” someone said from the crowd that was now forming on the sidewalk.

Alejandro wanted to ask what “Amish” was but didn’t want to draw further attention to himself or to the situation than what was needed. Right now, all the media could say was that his driver hit the woman and he, Alejandro Diaz, had stayed by her side until the ambulance came. The police would soon arrive, question him, and then he’d be on his merry way to his meeting with Richard Gray. The worse thing that could happen is some minor damage to his bad-boy image.

The woman fluttered her eyes, trying to make sense of what was happening as she began to awaken. The color started to come back to her cheeks. Her chocolate brown eyes tried to make sense of all the people staring at her from above. “Where am I?” she asked.

“Oz, according to that guy!” someone from the crowd quipped.

Alejandro glared over his shoulder at the man who was laughing then looked back at the woman from behind his dark sunglasses. “You’ve been hit by a car,” he said gently. “Don’t try to move. Help is on the way,
princesa
.”

But she didn’t listen. When she tried to lift her head, she winced and fell back down to the street. “My leg,” she whimpered, collapsing against Alejandro’s body. He was still holding her hand and she clung to it, her head buried against his leg.

Alejandro lowered his voice. “You’re going to be fine, but wait for the medical people. You can’t move,
princesa
.” He stared at her face, tanned with some freckles over the tops of her cheeks. She was fresh looking, like a country girl. The driver was right. She did resemble Dorothy with her blue dress and black apron. Except she had a white heart-shaped covering for her head that had been knocked off and laid in the middle of the street, a tourist stepping on one of the strings.

When she looked at him again, her dark eyes trying to make sense of what was happening to her, he felt a jolt. For as young and fresh as she was, she was also remarkably beautiful in a natural way that completely took him by surprise. Her tan skin glowed in the sun-rays that trickled through the skyscrapers. Her dark hair was pulled back from her face, a few loose strands curling down her neck. No make-up or fancy hair styles. Just a plain beauty that caught him off guard.

“My family,” she whispered, moisture at the corner of her eyes.

“May I call someone for you?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper so that the people surrounding them couldn’t hear, as he tightened his grasp on her hand. He was surprised when she clasped it, her grip strong, and he found himself staring into her face, once again amazed at how beautiful she looked.

Despite the clear pain that she was in, the young woman was still stoic and dignified, hiding her discomfort. Yet, when she tried to shake her head, a single tear trickled down her cheek. “We don’t have a phone. They need to know,” she said, her voice trailing off.

No phone? Not even a cell phone? He frowned but didn’t inquire further. He could hear the sirens in the distance. He imagined the police would arrive first and, from that point on, he’d be questioned then able to leave. Another thirty minutes, he thought. Forty-five, tops.

“What is your name,
princesa
?”

“Amanda,” she whispered. “Amanda Beiler.”

Alejandro nodded, aware that she had a slight accent. He couldn’t quite place it. It wasn’t European and certainly it wasn’t from South America. But it was different from the other American accents. “If you tell me your address, I’ll make certain that a message gets to your family.”

She clutched his hand and he leaned forward. “Creek Road in Lititz, Pennsylvania.” She paused, shutting her eyes as tears started to well at the corners. “They think I’ll be home tonight for my chores.”

He laughed softly and caressed her hand with his thumb. “You won’t be home for chores tonight, Amanda Beiler. But you’ll be just fine.” He paused before adding, “I’ll make sure of it.” She was the image of innocence and clearly a long way from home. While he knew nothing about Lititz, Pennsylvania, he suspected it was far from Philadelphia or Pittsburgh. And certainly not close to New York City. “I promise,” he heard himself say.

He could hear the mumbling behind him. The crowd was beginning to liven up. If people hadn’t recognized him before, he knew the word was now floating through the crowd. He could sense the energy as more people began to peer over the heads of others, trying to see him, trying to take a photograph of him. The cell phones were in the air snapping photos of Alejandro kneeling beside the Amish woman on the streets of Manhattan.
No
, he corrected himself.
Photos of Viper with the Amish woman.
Alejandro wondered which one would wind up on the entertainment channels and the tabloids later on this evening.

The police arrived moments later, their cars making their way through the crowded streets, avoiding the pedestrians who didn’t seem to care that they were breaking the law by darting across the road. Once the police had parked their cars, ignoring the other drivers who began honking their horns at being blocked and delayed, two policemen began to push the crowd back, creating a buffer so that the ambulance would be able to get through when it arrived. Another police officer approached Alejandro, quickly assessing that he was a good person to start interviewing.

“What happened here, sir?”

Alejandro glanced up, peering at the officer from behind his dark sunglasses. He tried to pick his words carefully, knowing that too many people were probably recording the scene. What he said now would most likely be replayed over and over again, on television, on interviews, and in court when the young woman sued for having been hit by his driver.

“I’m not exactly certain,” Alejandro said. “I just know that she was hit by the limousine.”

The officer peered at him for a moment. It was the moment of recognition. “Aren’t you..?”

And so it begins, he thought wistfully. Avoiding the question, Alejandro glanced at the woman. “No disrespect,” he said. “But she’s in a lot of pain, Officer. Do you have any idea when the ambulance will get here?”

To Alejandro’s relief, the officer leaned his chin over to his shoulder, talking into his walkie-talkie. While the officer was trying to get a reading on the location of the ambulance, Alejandro turned his attention back to the young woman. “Amanda?” he asked softly. “Amanda? You hanging in there,
princesa
?”

She nodded slightly. Her face was pale and tears now fell freely down her cheeks. “I just wanted a pair of sunglasses,” she said, her words barely audible.

“What?” He leaned down, trying to hear what she was saying. “What did you say?”

She reached for his hand again, holding it tightly in her own. “While I was waiting for my train,” she whispered. “I was crossing the street for a pair of sunglasses.”

He didn’t have an opportunity to ask her about what she had said. The ambulance was pulling up behind them, the horn beeping for people to get out of the way. The officer in charge motioned for Alejandro to back away so that the paramedics could bring the gurney closer.

Respectfully, he moved back but stopped just a few feet from where she was stretched out on the road. He noticed the white cap laying on the ground a few feet away and stooped to pick it up. Clutching it into his hands, Alejandro watched as the paramedics worked, quickly taking her vital signs and asking a rapid barrage of questions. Within minutes, Amanda Beiler was gently lifted from the streets of Manhattan, placed on the crisp white sheet covering the gurney, and whisked away to a hospital.

Alejandro stared after it, too aware that his cell phone was vibrating in his pocket and the officer was asking him a question. But his mind was elsewhere. This young woman, dressed in such plain clothes and with such a pure, fresh look on her face, lingered in his memory and he found that he could think of nothing else. She was alone in Manhattan and clearly out of her element. He knew the feeling from his own days as an immigrant with his mother in Miami. And he also knew that he wasn’t going to make that appointment with Richard Gray. Only this was now by his own choice, not because of being delayed by the accident.

About Sarah Price

The Preiss family emigrated from Europe in 1705, settling in Pennsylvania as the area’s first wave of Mennonite families. Sarah Price has always respected and honored her ancestors through exploration and research about her family’s history and their religion. At nineteen, she befriended an Amish family and lived on their farm throughout the years.

Twenty-five years later, Sarah Price splits her time between her home outside of New York City and an Amish farm in Lancaster County, PA where she retreats to reflect, write, and reconnect with her Amish friends and Mennonite family.