Plain Fame (8 page)

Lizzie questioned him with her eyes before asking the question: “Not like that?”

“He wouldn’
t come in.
”

“Where will he stay?”
Lizzie asked, alarmed.
“There is room for him here, too.”

Alejandro smiled.
“He’ll stay at a motel and be nearby if I need him.”

“That seems rather foolish when there are empty bedrooms.” He knew it wasn’t said as a criticism, just a mere statement.

Alejandro shrugged. No matter what he said, it wouldn
’
t be understood. He knew that right away. Simply put,
as a hired man, the driver would never stay with Alejandro. The driver wasn’t paid to be his friend, just to be available and, if needed, to help protect Alejandro. But getting personal with each other was not an option. Alejandro suspected that it was not a philosophy that would be easily understood by Amish people; they seemed to be genuinely generous in spirit and in deeds. “If you’
ll excuse me,
” he said and slipped out through the door.

After exchanging a few words, the driver quietly took Alejandro’s bag out of the trunk and carried it to the porch of the house. He set it down and waved at Alejandro. As the limousine pulled away from the house and disappeared around the corner of the barn, Alejandro felt a weight lift from his shoulders. Despite feeling alone and somewhat insecure in this very different environment, he also felt more alive and freer than ever. If only for a few days, he had escaped the limelight and could relax . . . It was the first time in years, he realized as he bent down to pick up his bag, that he was truly on his own.

Carrying the bag back into the house, he stood in the doorway and looked around the kitchen. The house was quiet, the only noise coming from the ticking of a clock that hung on the wall and the running water from the sink where Lizzie was working. Everything was neat and tidy, from the dark-green window shades that were pulled down to block direct sunlight to the vinyl floor. Amanda was on the sofa, staring out the window at the fields. He tilted his head, watching her. The sun was coming through the window, casting a warm glow on her face.

She was beautiful. He couldn’t help but stare at her, noticing her high cheekbones and full lips. Her eyes were so large and full of life. Despite being so petite, she was clearly a strong young woman. He realized that over the past few days he had become quite fond of her zest for living. It was so different from what he was used to in his own world, where the women were focused on fashion and looks, vying for his attention but not necessarily for his affection. This one who sat before him on the sofa didn’t even know he was in the room and, most likely, didn’t even care.

He cleared his throat.

Lizzie looked up.
“I didn’t even hear you come back in,” she said, smiling. She wiped her hands on the towel that hung over the counter. “Let me get you situated. It’s nice that someone can use the empty
haus
.” She hurried over to a door behind the sofa. “You’ll be all right for a few minutes,
ja
?” she said to Amanda.

Alejandro followed Lizzie through the door. There was a larger room, empty with the exception of a bookshelf in the corner. It was dark and clearly not used very often. The shades were pulled completely down, covering the windows so that only a sliver of light filtered through the glass. Lizzie didn’t seem to notice the darkness as she bustled along and opened another door.

When Alejandro stepped through the second door behind Lizzie, he caught his breath. It was a smaller house but equally as pristine. A kitchen with a sitting area looked as if it was completely ready and waiting for him. The light hanging over the kitchen table was polished and reflected the rest of the room. He had never seen a light like this. He glanced at it and frowned.

“¿Qué es eso?”
he said, slipping into Spanish. When Lizzie looked at him, he apologized. “I’m sorry. I mean, what is this?”

She laughed, her eyes turning into half-moons. “It’s a light. Since we don’t use electricity, we use propane and kerosene lanterns.” She moved over to the counter and pointed to a box on the wall. “The matches are kept here.” She reached into the small metal box and pulled out a matchstick, then struck it against what looked like the back of a matchbox that was adhered to the wall. It hissed as it lit. She carried it back to the table, reached for a knob on the light, and lit the lantern. “See? Now you can see better.” She waved her hand to extinguish the match.

“
Fascinating,
” he said, and he meant it. The light was bright and noisy, with a steady whooshing sound that filled the room.

“The bedroom is behind the stairs,” she said pointing toward the wooden staircase. “There are three bedrooms upstairs, but it will be cooler down here,
ja
?” She hurried over to the door behind the staircase and opened it. “Everything is fresh, but I haven’t cleaned the windows this month,” she said by way of apology.

Alejandro turned around, staring at the room. A beautiful handmade quilt covered the bed, the mixture of colors vivacious and welcoming, not the usual silk comforters that he slept under in his hotel suites. There were hooks on the wall with empty hangers, but no closet. He quickly understood that clothes were hung on the wall, not hidden away.

“You should be comfortable here,” she said, backing out of the room. “Nice to have someone use it. Been empty since my own
daed
passed a few years back.”

Alejandro raised an eyebrow. “And yet you clean it every week?”

“Of course,” she said, looking at him as if he was kidding. “
Doesn
’t take much time after all to keep it tidy and ready.”

He wondered what the purpose was for keeping it tidy and neat if no one was to live there. But rather than ask, he settled on, “Who will live here?”

Lizzie averted her eyes but not before he saw the dark cloud that passed through them. “No one, I imagine.” She paused, still looking away. It seemed that there was more that she wanted to say, something that was difficult for her. She struggled to find the right words and finally settled on, “Elias and I would have moved here when our son married and took over the farm. The girls will most likely move to their own husbands’ farms when they marry. We’ll eventually sell it to another young couple then.” She said no more, and Alejandro realized that it was not a subject that she wished to continue discussing. “But now you can stay here. Anyone who has taken such wonderful care of our dear Amanda is a blessing and welcomed in our home!”

Thankful for the gracious out, he bowed slightly. “I cannot thank you enough for your hospitality.”

She looked up and forced a smile. “You must be tired after so much travel. It’s a long journey from New York City,
ja
?” She started to walk toward the door. “Rest up, and we’ll have a light supper at six, after Elias is finished with the evening milking, if you’d care to join us.”

Engulfed in silence, Alejandro stared after her when she disappeared through the door. A surreal feeling hung over him, and he wondered what, exactly, he was doing at this farm, by himself, and far from his people. He was used to having a small entourage of friends and associates surrounding him, guiding him, and abiding him. Now, alone, he was staying with people who neither knew him nor particularly cared about his music. It was truly a liberating experience.

With a sense of serenity, he realized that Lizzie was right. He was tired and could use a rest. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt and sat down on the edge of the bed. Sleep, he thought. Even if just for an hour. He lay back on the pillow and shut his eyes, realizing that he hadn’t had a break in his life for over five years that permitted him the luxury of a late afternoon nap. He fell asleep with a smile on his face and peace in his heart.

Chapter Six

Alejandro had awoken shortly after five in the evening. He stretched as he walked around the small house, noticing every detail from the half-drawn green shades to the woven rug under the rocking chair. It was so different from what he was used to. His world seemed so far removed. Gone were the marble counters and tile floors. Missing were the leather sofas and silk draperies. Instead, he felt as though he had returned to his roots, a plain and simple time that reminded him of his childhood.

He sat down in the rocking chair and reached for his cell phone. Reluctantly, he flipped it open and checked his messages. Too many phone calls, he thought. He ignored them and switched over to his e-mail. Over two hundred messages. He glanced through the list and responded to a few of the electronic correspondence from Mike before tucking his phone back into his pocket. He knew that he’d regret not responding to the messages later. E-mail had a way of breeding more e-mail. But, he rationalized, he was on vacation and didn’t want to get bogged down with electronic communications.

Electronic communications, he thought as he stared at his silenced cell phone. When had his life taken such a turn? When had he begun to live through 140 characters in Twitter messages and Facebook statuses? Gone were the days of living life and enjoying the moment. Instead, he answered to Likes and Retweets. His life was managed by technology and by whatever the world decided was all right to pass along through these social networks.

He rubbed his forehead. When had his inner self disappeared? He felt lost and alone in a world of a million followers and fans, people he would never meet and whose snapshots were their only identities when they commented on his own postings. Some of the fans even went too far, creating their own fantasy world about him, posting lies or accusations. That was part of being a celebrity, dealing with the crazies, and he had learned that there were plenty of them out there. Sometimes he felt as if he had created another planet. His own planet, where he now lived, surrounded by his fans and followers.

America, he thought with a sigh, and shut his eyes.

The sun was beginning to sink in the sky. Despite the fact that it was still bright outside, he knew that the day was ending. He had two choices: stay in the peaceful solitude of the house or venture outside. While there was a certain appeal to being alone, something that was unusual at best, he found that he wanted to explore the world that Amanda Beiler had introduced to him. How often would he be able to truly be himself, without flashbulbs and photographers chasing him? Venturing outside held a higher appeal than sitting in the empty kitchen, pontificating on the ills of the world of music. So he stood up and headed toward the side door, then proceeded down a walkway and toward the driveway.

He paused at the end of the ramp and shut his eyes. For a long moment, he breathed deeply, feeling his lungs fully expand. The fresh air calmed him, quickly erasing the past weeks—no, months—of hard work and travel.

Instead of taking the driveway, he wandered over to the barn to see if he could help Elias with the evening milking. The dairy barn was dark and shadowy. The black-and-white Holstein cows were standing in the long aisles, eating hay and waiting for their turns to be milked. When Alejandro finally found Elias, he was carrying an empty bucket back to the cows.

“Need some help?”
Alejandro asked.

“Nein,”
Elias said, smiling as he waved a hand. “Just about finished.” He set the bucket down by a cow and laid a hand on her rump. “But I’ll be thankful for some help in the morning, then.”

It was a long process for a single man to manage the herd. Every twelve hours, Elias explained, he had to milk the cows. Some farmers liked to milk them every ten hours in order to get extra milk, but Elias shook his head. “That’s not for me. You would have to get up in the middle of the night to milk them some times, and other times get them in the barn in the middle of the day! Can’t plan much with such a crazy schedule.”

When the two men walked into the kitchen, there was a pleasant aroma that filled the air. Alejandro couldn’t remember the last time he had come home to a home-cooked meal. Most of his meals were either brought in or eaten out. He felt the tug of a memory from his childhood back in Cuba with his grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins on Saturday afternoons. They would have fiestas with dancing and outdoor cooking. There was always music and laughter that was served along with the food. Of course, that was before they had immigrated to America.

Elias hung his hat from a peg on the wall and took off his dirty boots, setting them neatly by the side of the screen door. The table was set, and the food was placed upon it. Amanda sat in the wheelchair at the table so that her leg could rest in an elevated position. Her father assumed his position at the head of the table, and Lizzie sat on a chair to his left. He noticed that both of her parents sat in chairs with wheels on them. He quickly learned why. If they needed anything from the refrigerator or counter, they would just roll over to it. He almost burst out laughing the first time he saw Elias do just that.

Alejandro was seated across from Amanda on a hard bench. He noticed that she tried to not look at him. He felt out of place in her parents’ kitchen. He knew that she felt that way about him, too. Every so often, she’d glance at him and smile before quickly looking away. After all, she had become used to seeing him in charge at the hospital with the staff fawning over him. It felt awkward seeing him at their family table, seated on a hard bench, bending his head when it was time for the meal’s silent blessing.

At first, Elias and Lizzie asked Amanda about her stay at the hospital. She told them about the nurses and the flowers and the people who had stopped into her room to visit. “People I never met before,” she added. “They just came in to sit, talk, and make certain I was comfortable.”

“That was right
gut
of them,” Lizzie said, nodding her head as she reached for the basket of fresh bread. Taking a piece, she set it alongside her plate and passed the basket over to Alejandro.

“And the food,” Amanda praised, her eyes glowing. “Alejandro was kind enough to have some special meals brought in for me.”

“Is that so?” Lizzie asked, her voice songlike as she spoke the words. “It’s only right that we thank you with some of our own home cooking over the next few days, then!”

“Mayhaps some homemade ice cream, too?” Amanda asked hopefully.

Lizzie and Elias laughed. “You and your ice cream,” Elias said. He looked over at Alejandro and quickly explained to let him in on the joke. “Our daughter was born with a sweet tooth. I think she’d do just about anything for ice cream!”

Alejandro watched the exchange between parents and daughter. It was a scene that he had never experienced. Without having known his own father, there had never been a casual family meal with laughter, inside jokes, and storytelling. Once they had arrived in Miami, his mother had worked two jobs when he was younger and he had to fend for himself for many years. Family dinners were nonexistent during those hard times. Alejandro had made his own meals, living off cooked pasta and the generosity of sympathetic neighbors. When he was older, he had discovered the streets: a way to make money while his mother worked. That was when his life had changed.

His thoughts were interrupted when Elias turned his attention away from Amanda. “
So, Alejandro,
”
Elias started.
“You said you are a singer,
ja
? What kind of singing do you do?” Elias asked as he bit into a sweet roll.

“It’s called rap but mixed with a touch of hip-hop,” Alejandro replied, knowing full well that they would not be familiar with that type of singing. “The words are like poetry to music,” he explained.

“
Poetry?
”

He nodded. “Fast-paced poetry.”

“And you make a living from that?” Elias said, his eyes large and full of disbelief.

Alejandro laughed.
“Sí,”
he said. “I make a living from that.”

Elias shook his head. He seemed to be deep in thought for a moment as he digested what Alejandro had just said. “Don’t seem right,” he muttered. “
You just sing words. Doesn
’t make anything, and sure don’t put food on anyone’
s plate, ain
’t so?”

“
Well,
” Alejandro replied good-naturedly, pointing to his plate, “it puts food on mine.”

Both parents laughed at the joke, and even Amanda joined in.

“Well, speaking of food,” Lizzie said, turning her gaze to Amanda. “Tomorrow we’ll be canning beef for the winter. Daed will be picking up the meat in the morning, no?” She looked at Elias for confirmation.

“
Ja
, nine o’clock. After milking.” He nodded. He reached for the pickled cabbage and dished some onto his plate before handing it to his wife. “Mayhaps you want to ride along with me,” he said by way of asking Alejandro to accompany him.

Alejandro took the bowl of boiled potatoes that Amanda passed to him. His hand brushed against her fingers, and he glanced at her, noticing that she quickly looked away. If her father hadn’t been staring at him, he would have smiled at the innocent expression on her face. Luckily, Elias hadn’t seen it. “That sounds like a fine plan, Elias,”
Alejandro said quickly.
“Although I’m not so sure about canning beef. Never heard of such a thing.”

“Never heard of canned beef?” Elias said, his eyebrows raised and a smile breaking onto his face. “How can that be?” He shook his head. “You Englische live a strange life, with that! No canned beef? Singing for a living? What’s next?”

“Maybe you can help with the canning, too,” Amanda said softly, turning her attention to Alejandro.

Her father waved his hand dismissively but with a twinkle in his eye. “
Psssh
, don
’t bother him with that. That’s women’s work!”

“Elias!”

Sensing tension, and uncertain if it was real or in jest, Alejandro jumped into the conversation. “I’d be glad to help. I sure don’t mind working in a kitchen. I helped my own mother for years when I was living at home.”

“Women’s work, indeed,” Lizzie muttered as she used her fork to crush her boiled potatoes. She reached for the container holding her homemade butter and spread it on top of her potatoes. “As if you have never helped me in the kitchen.”

“Help you eat the food,” Elias said, winking at Amanda. “But not making it.”

This time, it was Amanda’s turn to tease when she added, “And if you did, no one would eat the food, that’s for sure and certain!”

The sun was still high in the sky after the meal had ended. The family bowed their heads in silent prayer when everyone was finished. Then Lizzie stood up to clear the table. “Amanda,” she said. “You may retire to the porch, if you’ve a mind. Cool breeze might help you sleep tonight.”

“I should help clean up,” Amanda offered.

“
Nein
, not tonight, daughter.”

Alejandro took that as his cue to help Amanda. He stood up and offered her his arm. “Here,” he said. “Lean on me.” He felt her hand on his warm skin as she stood up. Her touch was soft and gentle, her hand surprisingly cool given the warm temperature in the kitchen. He also hadn’t noticed how petite she was when she stood next to him. Gently, he helped her toward the front porch as she used the crutches that her mother had handed to her.

The early evening sky was slowly changing from a brilliant turquoise to purples and oranges and reds. Amanda sat in the rocking chair, her leg propped on an overturned wooden crate with a pillow underneath her heel. Lizzie had brought that out for her after Alejandro had helped her to the chair.

“This is a good place,” Alejandro said, leaning against the wall of the house. “I like it here.”

“It’s not always like this,” she said, staring at the green field of growing corn. There was a gentle breeze that caused the corn to ripple. It looked like a wave. “When my sister is here, it’s more noisy, I suppose.”

He couldn’t imagine that. Everything was so peaceful and quiet. Even the playful banter between husband and wife was light and cheerful. Certainly Amanda couldn’t comprehend what true noise was. After all, it wasn’t everyone who stood on a stage, hot lights beating down from the ceiling while ten thousand fans screamed at the top of their lungs and the band played as loud as they could. “Concerts are noisy,” he offered. “
You can
’t imagine the noise! In fact,” he laughed, “everything about my life is noisy . . . the music, the fans, the concerts.”

“But you like it,
ja
?”

He shrugged. Did he like it? That was the question he had been asking himself these days. “It’s what I do” was the only answer he could think of. “Usually it’
s fine,
” he added. “But sometimes it is tiring living on the road and never being home. It’s tiring having no privacy and following a tight schedule of meetings and interviews and photo shoots. In my world, I’m always moving. There is no downtime.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t know about that,” she said lightly and with a casual shrug of her shoulders. “I’m just a farm girl. We have plenty of that.”

The way she said those words,
just a farm girl
, struck him. He stared at her for a moment, wondering what that meant to her. If being a “farm girl” meant living this life that he saw around him, it wasn’t such a bad living at all. Quiet, peaceful, and surrounded by the love of a family. Three things he had never truly experienced.

From the distance, the sound of an approaching horse could be heard. The noise started softly but increased as it neared. Lifting his head so that he could hear it better, Alejandro shut his eyes and listened to the sound. Music. When it was just down the lane from the farmhouse, it began to decrease. At the moment when he could no longer hear it, he opened his eyes, surprised to see Amanda staring at him.