Plain Fame (9 page)

Quiet, peacefulness, family. If he never had those things growing up, he certainly didn’t have them now. Instead, his life was in a constant motion, and while he wasn’t always certain of the direction in which he was going, he always knew where he was headed. His life was everything that hers was not. But it was a good life, a storybook life of rags to riches with no end in sight.

“Sí,”
he finally admitted. “I like it.”

“What do you like about it?” Her voice was soft and her eyelids drooped as she looked down at the ground, avoiding his eyes.

What did he like about it? He didn’t know how to answer that. It wasn’t something he often thought about. “
Well,
” he began, trying to think as he spoke. “I used to like the attention, and I certainly like the money.”

“Money?” she interrupted, her eyes flying to meet his.

“Is that so strange, Princesa?”

With a simple shrug of her shoulders, she looked away. There was a disappointed expression on her face. “Money is just that: money. It’s not family. It’s not happiness. It’s not love.”

“True,” he admitted.

She shook her head. “In fact, isn’t money at the root of many Englische problems?”

“Money is good to have and bad not to have,
sí
?” he said lightly.

“Mayhaps, but it sure seems to me that you sacrifice an awful lot of life in order to get that money,” she stated.

She was right. He knew it. Yet he felt compelled to explain to her that having money was not all bad. “But it enabled me to bring my mother’s family over from Cuba. It enables me to let my mother live a better life.” He squatted down next to where she sat. “But it’s not all about the money.” He touched her knee gently. “It’s about creating something that touches other people. That’s what I like about it.”

For a long moment, she remained silent. Her eyes watched his hand, which lingered near her leg. She seemed to be digesting what he said, and finally she nodded her head. “I can understand that,” she said, emphasizing the word
that
. “I love gardening and being creative with how I plan the layout. Other people like flower gardens. My
mamm
loves to bake pies. Each is creative in her or his own way, I imagine. And that makes us feel good because it touches other people.”

“There you go,” he said.

“And your music touches people, then?”

In his mind, he saw the thousands of screaming fans, crowded around the edge of the stage, the crowd stretching back farther than he could see. He saw the young girls standing outside of his hotels and chasing his limousines. He thought of the thousands of e-mails that he received every day. “Yes,” he said. “I believe it does.”

“
Then it
’s good that you do that, Alejandro Diaz,” she relented with a smile. “And it’s even better that you like it. I sure would not like the thought of you doing something you hated.”

Her words struck him like a jolt. No one ever seemed to care about what he wanted. Instead, he was always told where to go, what to do, how to behave, even what to wear. He had image consultants, makeup artists, choreographers, voice coaches, managers, and an entire entourage of staff when he was on the road. Yet not one of them ever seemed interested in his thoughts about their decisions. They dictated; he followed. On a few occasions, he might refuse, but it often came at a high price. After all, their sole interest in his success was what they could gain from it themselves.

“You are quiet now,” she said softly.

He glanced around the farm. “You are lucky,” he replied.

“That’s what you were thinking?” she asked.

“No,” he said, moving his head so that he faced her and not the fields. “But that’s what I’m thinking now.”

She smiled at him and, as her eyes sparkled, he reached over for her hand and lifted it to his lips. Gently, he pressed them against her soft skin, never taking his eyes from hers. He watched as the color flooded her cheeks, and he lowered her hand.

“You blush?”

She looked away, but her cheeks were still crimson.

“I embarrassed you?”

She shook her head.
“Nee.”
Avoiding his eyes, she changed the subject. “It’s been a long day and if you intend to help Daed tomorrow, you should be retiring soon,
ja
?”

With a careless lift of his shoulders, he shrugged. “I am not tired. The sun has barely set in the sky.”

“You’ll be tired tomorrow,” she said, a light tone returning to her voice. “You’ll see.”

He stood up and reached down for her hand, the same hand that he had held and kissed just a few seconds before. She hesitated to take it before realizing that he was merely offering his hand to help her stand. Grateful, she accepted his gesture and let him guide her to her feet. It was still very cumbersome with the cast on her leg. She was too aware of how awkward she looked, probably as awkward as she felt.

“In that case, Princesa,” he said gently. “I shall assist you inside so that I may retire to my own quarters. I have e-mails to check on my phone, no?”

“Ach,”
she scoffed as she released his hand. “That silly thing?”

He laughed at her.
“That silly thing is what keeps my career going,
sí
?”

She shook her head as she started to move toward the door, the crutches helping to stabilize her. “Such a small device to take up so much of your time,” she remarked. “Seems like communicating in person would be much more effective.”

Reaching out, he held the door open so that she could move inside. “That’s one way of looking at it, but not very realistic in my world,” he tossed back at her playfully.

“
Well,
” she added, glancing up at him as she slightly crouched to move under his arm. “Like I said, I’m just a farm girl. Wouldn’t know much about that. Good night, Alejandro.” And with that, she disappeared inside, leaving him standing on the porch, a smile on his face at her ability to warm his heart.

Chapter Seven

It was five in the morning when Elias knocked at the bedroom door. The noise was sharp and loud, jolting Alejandro from his sleep. He jumped up and shouted,
“¿Quién es?”
His eyes were wide-open and trying to adjust to the darkness that engulfed him. He had been sleeping, a deep sleep that he hadn’t reached in the past weeks. Startled from the abrupt awakening, he reached out for the nightstand, looking for something that wasn’t there. Then, feeling his cell phone, he grabbed it and flipped it open to see the time: 5:05 a.m.

“Time for milking,
ja
?” Elias called out from the other side of the door. It sounded as though he were chuckling.

Milking? It took Alejandro a moment to place himself. He wasn’t in a hotel. He wasn’t in Miami. There was no one with him, not this morning. There was no fancy breakfast waiting in the outer room with people to serve him. No, he realized, he was in Lititz, Pennsylvania, and being awoken at a time of the day when he normally was just going to bed. And by an Amish man, of all people! For a moment, he wondered if he was still dreaming.

“
Five minutes,
” Alejandro finally called out, trying to shake the sleep from his head.

Despite it being June, the morning air was cool when he exited the house. He was wearing slacks and a shirt, opened slightly at the collar. The sun wasn’t even cresting in the sky, but there was a faint light that wrapped around him. The radiance of morning. Everything felt mildly fresh and new, the breaking of dawn as he had never seen it. Birds were singing their morning songs, and a few rabbits were nibbling at the grass by the back fields.

When he walked into the barn, he was overwhelmed by the smell. Cows. Manure. And lots of both. It was a pungent odor, somewhat familiar but offensive to his nose.
“Ay, mi madre,”
he said quietly. What had he gotten himself into?

“Guder mariye,”
Amanda called out cheerfully to him. She was using her crutches, trying to carry a full bucket of warm water. Unlike Alejandro, she looked as if she was wide-awake and ready for the day, wearing a faded work dress, a blue bandana over her hair, and an old, clunky boot on her one foot. “Not used to getting up so early,
ja
?”

He tried to smile but was too tired. “Getting up early, going to bed late. Same thing, I suppose.” He saw her struggling with the bucket and frowned. He ran his fingers through his hair, a loose curl draping over his forehead, and walked toward her. “Let me help you, Amanda.” He took the bucket from her and followed behind her. She moved slowly down the aisle between the barn wall and the cows. “Why are you out here anyway, Princesa? The point of my staying to help was so that you wouldn’t have to.”

She glanced at him and laughed, her dark eyes twinkling. “Was that the point?”

It was too early for laughter and teasing. First thing in the morning, his brain wasn’t that quick. He needed some coffee to help him wake up. Actually lots of it. Despite having slept so well, he felt tense. He wasn’t certain whether it was the fact that he was up so early or because Amanda was up, too. “You should be resting,” he scolded her. “This is too much for you.”

She shook her head. “If I can help just a little, I’ll feel better. No use in sitting around when there is work to do,” she argued gently. She ignored his scowl and tried to move past him. When he touched her arm, she looked up at him and added, “
Besides, my
daed
needs me.
”

He frowned. “
No good, Amanda.
” But he let her be, knowing that she was old enough to make her own decisions, even if they were not necessarily the right ones. Who was he to tell her what to do? he thought.

For the next two hours, he helped Elias with milking the cows. Amanda did what she could, using her crutches: carrying empty buckets to the men and trying to bring the full ones back to the containment system, which would keep the milk at the right temperature until it was picked up later in the week. She never complained and seemed quite content to be helping, even if she couldn’t do too much. Alejandro kept an eye on her, noticing that she looked pale and worn-out by the time they were almost finished with the milking.

“Farming never quite leaves you,” Elias said, clapping Alejandro on the back. Clearly, he was impressed that Alejandro had been able to roll up his sleeves and start milking the cows. “You are a
gut Schaffmann
!”

Alejandro rubbed his eyes. He still needed that coffee.
“Schaffmann?”

“Worker,”
Amanda chimed in.
“He’s calling you a
gut
worker! It’s a compliment.”

“
Ja
, worker.” Elias laughed. “Whoever taught you how to milk cows in that island place did a mighty fine job. You did a
gut
morning of work this day, son!”

Son.
The word resonated in his head. He had never known his own father. His mother wouldn’t speak about his father, not once. After they had left Cuba for America, there was no one else to ask. His grandparents were dead, and his uncles had never known his father. On the few occasions when Alejandro had tried to bring up the subject with his mother, she had shut down, not unlike the Beilers yesterday when the subject of their son had been mentioned. He had seen the pain in Elias’s and Lizzie’s eyes, and he suddenly realized that whatever had happened between his own father and mother must have caused the same amount of pain.

When they had finally finished and returned to the main house, the kitchen smelled of fried eggs and bacon. Alejandro breathed in deeply, loving the wonderful aroma of fresh farm food. He was starving after the light supper from the previous evening and for having been awakened so early. Hard work made a man hungry, and he hoped that there was coffee waiting for them, too. He was not disappointed.

After breakfast, Elias walked with Alejandro out to the horse barn. In silence, Elias quickly curried the horse before he started the process of hitching the bay to the black buggy. Alejandro watched, amazed, as Elias slipped the harness saddle over the back of the horse, resting it just behind the withers. He stretched the girth around the horse’s barrel and tightened it to ensure that it was secure. He explained to Alejandro that the girth needed to be tight so that the harness wouldn’t slip sideways while supporting the shafts of the carriage.

The horse stood patiently, immune to the familiar touch of the expert hands that placed the leather pieces onto its back. Elias continually ran his hand down the horse’s flanks, talking softly to it as he worked. When he moved toward the tail, he gently patted the muscled croup twice, a kind and calming gesture showing how much he cared for his horse. Carefully, he attached the black crupper, a V-shaped piece of stuffed leather, latching it around the tail and buckling it at the dock. He explained that this would prevent the harness from sliding forward. Then, in one quick motion, he slipped the breast collar, a wide piece of padded leather in dire need of some leather polish, over the horse’s head. The horse lifted its head but didn’t fuss beyond that simple gesture.

Crossing the leather tugs over the back of the horse, Elias gestured toward the buggy. “Could use your help here, son,” he said. Together, they pulled the buggy toward the horse, carefully guiding it so that the shafts would slide into their holders, one side at a time. Then, after clipping the holdback straps to the breeching, a clever yet simple apparatus that would prevent the buggy’s kick plate from hitting the horse’s hocks when driving downhill or suddenly stopping, Elias uncrossed the tugs and secured them to the swiveling base. It hadn’t taken more than five minutes to get the horse and buggy ready for the journey to town, where they were headed to pick up the meat.

“Sent the cow to the butcher just two days ago,” Elias said as he held the reins in his hands, steering the horse down the lane and onto the main road. “Shop should be open by now, I reckon.”

The front window of the buggy was open, and Alejandro watched the horse’s hindquarters as it trotted down the road. The noise was musical in rhythm, and for a while he got lost in the beat. The early morning air was cool and felt refreshing on his face. If he had thought it would be warm and stuffy inside the buggy, he was pleasantly surprised to find otherwise. But he was also surprised to feel something tickling his face. The faster the horse trotted, the more he felt something brushing against his skin. He lifted his hand and touched his cheeks.

“Ah, the horsehair,” Elias laughed. “Should have warned you earlier. I curried her right
gut
this morning, but there’s always horsehair floating around.”

Alejandro saw it now. Hair from the horse was floating back through the open window. He was glad the horse’s coat was bay instead of white; otherwise, his dark clothing would definitely show the hair.

“Well, hello there,” Elias called out as they reached the village, and he slowed the horse down in the driveway of another Amish farm. An older Amish man was walking from the house to a shop at the back of the property near the barn. “Come for my meat, Jeremiah.”

The man eyed the Englischer seated next to Elias with suspicion. “Who you got there, Elias?”

With the buggy stopped, Elias slid open the buggy’
s door and jumped down.
“Alejandro Diaz is staying with us for a few days. He helped Amanda in that New York town.”

At the mention of Amanda, the man softened his harsh expression. “How is your
dochder
?”

“Gut, gut,”
Elias responded. “
Danke
for asking.
”

As Alejandro approached, the older man stared at him. “Bit fancy dressed for helping with butchering, ain’t so?”

Alejandro reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Raising one eyebrow, the man hesitated before taking Alejandro’s hand. “Jeremiah Smucker,” he finally said, introducing himself. Then, formalities over, he turned back to Elias. “Got your meat all ready. You tell Lizzie that I made sure to grind some extra special, just the way she likes it.”

Alejandro waited by the buggy while the two men disappeared into the shop. Minutes later, they came out carrying two large boxes. One of the boxes was open, and he glanced inside at the large plastic bag brimming with various cuts of meat. After they had put it into the back of the buggy, they disappeared and shortly returned with two more boxes.

“That should hold you over for the winter,
ja
?” Jeremiah said lightly. “Especially since I heard that one
dochder
might be staying in Ohio. Something about a special new friend, ain’t so?”

Elias laughed and turned to Alejandro. “Mayhaps we don’t have fancy phones like you Englischers, but our Amish gossip spreads just as fast without ’em.”

When they returned to the farm, Alejandro helped Elias carry the boxes of meat into the canning room located off the kitchen in the farmhouse. The house was quiet. Neither Amanda nor Lizzie was in the kitchen. Alejandro realized that it was the perfect time to steal away for a few minutes and catch up on his own thoughts.

For a long time, he walked along the fields and breathed in the fresh air. At the edge of the cornfield, he stopped and watched the birds flying overhead, dipping down and disappearing among the growing stalks. In the distance, he could hear the sound of an approaching horse and buggy rattling down the road. Shutting his eyes, he listened to the noise, catching the rhythm in his mind until it disappeared. Taking a deep breath, he felt his lungs opening up, free from smoke and city fumes. A man could get used to this, he thought. No pressure, no deadlines, no commitments.

Unlike New York City, Los Angeles, or Miami, there was no loud background noise. No cars. No beeping. No voices. Just the gentle song of the birds and the whisper of the crops, stalks gently brushing against one another in the summer breeze. He shut his eyes and listened to the sounds of nature. They soothed him, and he realized that he was relaxing for the first time in months . . . perhaps years. Yes, no matter what Mike had thought, the small farming town of Lititz was exactly what he needed to recharge his batteries.

He was surprised to see a car in the driveway when he returned from his walk. He knocked at the door to the main house before opening it, and slipping inside, it took a minute for his eyes to adjust. Lizzie was standing with another woman by the sofa where Amanda was lying. Alejandro took off his sunglasses and waited for any indication that he should enter. The other woman was dressed in regular clothing and was checking Amanda’s blood pressure and heart rate.

“
Looks good,
” the woman said, standing up straight. “
But I don
’t want to hear about you doing chores, young lady. You need your rest.”

Alejandro cleared his throat. “Those very same words were spoken by me this morning.” The three women looked up and stared at him. He took five strides and reached out his hand. “
Alejandro Diaz,
” he said. “I believe we spoke on the phone a few days ago.”

“Of course,” the woman said, smiling at him. She glanced down at Amanda. “The patient is doing quite fine. But I heard that she has been helping with the morning milking. She really needs to stay put. If someone will push the wheelchair, she can go outside. I don’t even mind if she goes visiting other places. But she needs to be still and relax or that leg will not heal properly.” The nurse started packing up her things, putting the blood pressure monitor back into her bag. “And keep that leg elevated as much as you can.”