Plain Fame (22 page)

“I will write,” she said, approaching her mother, who refused to turn around to hug her good-bye. When she moved toward her father, he took a step backward and shifted his body away from her.

For a moment, Amanda felt as if she were floating above herself, watching the scene unfold. How did it come to this? she thought. In her mind, the past few months seemed to flash in snapshots, a quick procession of memories. From crossing the street in Manhattan to waking in the hospital, from the limousine ride home with Alejandro to listening to him sing her a lullaby in the field, and from dancing in his arms to the kiss in the buggy. And then, of course, being stalked by paparazzi. None of it seemed real. Was she really going to leave the only place she had known as home, the only place where she had ever expected to live? She glanced over her shoulder at Alejandro. He had no expression on his face, and his stance had not shifted. The decision was hers, she realized, and she turned back to her parents.

“I’m doing this to protect you, all of you,” she said. “If you can’t see that today, perhaps you will see it later.”

Silence.

Taking a deep breath, she turned and walked toward Alejandro. This time, he raised an eyebrow as if questioning her one last time. She responded by clutching the bag in her hand and moving toward the door. She paused, just once to look over her shoulder at her parents, but neither one looked back. The decision was made; the damage was done. There was no moving backward, only forward. She lifted her eyes to look at Alejandro, and when he looked at her, she nodded and let him open the door.

The paparazzi went crazy, their cameras waiting for this moment. They snapped a rapid succession of photos, a few of them filming with large video recorders. Alejandro took a deep breath and reached down for her bag. Taking it from her, he shifted it so that he could place his free hand on the small of her back.

“You are ready, Amanda?” he asked quietly.

She looked up at him, but he was staring straight ahead. She couldn’t get a reading on his emotions at this moment. But she felt the warmth of his touch through her dress.
“Ja,”
she said. She looked ahead, too, mirroring his stance as the photographers pushed toward the SUV, trying to snap their million-dollar photograph.

“I have no choice,” she added.

“I will protect you,” he whispered.

She smiled and lowered her eyes. “I know that, Alejandro,” she replied.

That was the photograph that would be shown across the world, the famous Cuban hip-hop star in his black suit, standing with his hand pressed lightly on the back of the young, petite Amish woman as they came down the porch of her family’s farm. The soft hint of a smile on her face and the serious look on his told a story full of speculation and fantasy.

Together, the unlikely couple walked down the steps and hurried to the SUV that was waiting in the driveway to whisk them away from the farm, in the hope that the paparazzi would follow, leaving the Amish community of Lititz in peace, as it had been, in a not-so-distant past.

Acknowledgments

Special words of gratitude follow for two very special people:

First, I must thank fellow author Erin Brady. Through endless (hilarious) texts, e-mails, and an occasional NYC dinner, she has been a true friend, helping me brainstorm and dream about this book. For months, we laughed and strategized over the story line. She continues to be a great asset to me in this series. As a fellow author, she knows and appreciates the hardship of taking a story from concept to publication.

Second, and most importantly, to my husband, Marc, who continues to support me, lets me type until the later hours of the night (despite the clickety-clack of the keyboard and glow of the screen that keeps him awake), and reads, rereads, and rereads again all of my work. He also encourages me to continue my weekend escapes to Lancaster to interact with my Amish friends and “family,” while he takes care of the home front. Every writer should be blessed to have a Marc on her team.

Glossary

Pennsylvania Dutch

Spanish

Chapter One

The sunlight shone through the sheer curtains covering the long windows in the bedroom. It cast a soft and golden glow throughout, painting the thick white comforter on the bed in dancing shades of sunrise. Small specks of dust floated, imprisoned in the sunbeams penetrating the room. But no one saw them. Not yet. The radiance of that particular early-morning phenomenon went unnoticed in the bedroom where Amanda lay, for she wasn’t yet awake.

Outside the window, a car horn blasted from the street below. Noise. A fluttering of eyelids. A bit of light. Slowly, Amanda rolled over in bed, lifting her arm to cover her eyes, shielding herself from the morning sunbeams, even if only for a few more seconds. The previous day had been long, and she’d had an even longer night. Sleep had not come easily, and what little she had was fitful.

Everything seemed strange to her as she began to wake up and take in her surroundings. Different indeed. From the brightness of the room to the high, vaulted ceilings with thick white moldings and fancy paintings on the walls, she knew that she was not at home this morning, and all of the memories from the previous day started to flood her heart with emotion.

The drive from her parents’ farm to Philadelphia seemed to never end. She sat in silence in the back of the SUV, staring thoughtfully out the window, too aware that Alejandro was watching her. His eyes on the back of her neck caused the color to rise in her cheeks, so she kept her head turned away, not wanting him to see the effect he had on her or the tears that were gathering at the corners of her eyes.

As the farmland rolled away and the small meandering roads had turned into a highway, she sighed.

“Princesa?”

She wanted to turn to look at him, but she was afraid.

He reached out and touched her hand. For a moment, she froze. His touch was soft and gentle, reassuring her that he was going to take care of her. When his fingers finally entwined with hers, the warmth of his skin touching hers pushed her over the edge.

The tears fell.

“Princesa,” he whispered again and reached out to force her to look at him. He wiped the tears from her eyes, staring deeply into her face. “It’s going to be all right,
sí
? I came for you, and you will be fine.”

She nodded.

“You believe me, no?”

Again, the simple nod.

He smiled. “You have no words? That is unusual.”

She swallowed, wanting to say something, but the feeling of weightlessness hung over her. She felt as if she were floating above herself, watching the two people in the back of the SUV, being driven by a chauffeur who headed toward the big city whose skyscrapers were already visible on the horizon. It was surreal. Certainly this woman who sat here, with a white prayer
kapp
on her head, holding hands with a Cuban singing legend, was not her. Not Amanda Beiler.

“I have left everything I know,” she finally whispered.

“You have the future ahead of you,” he replied, trying to reassure her. “And there would be no future for you now at home, not with the paparazzi following your every move.”

She knew that he spoke wisely. She had known those words to be true. That was why she had finally sent the message to him. Her life was over in the Amish community. No one would ever believe that she had not been romantically involved with Alejandro. No man would want to court the most famous Amish woman in the world. And no community would welcome her to live among them, not with cameras gathering wherever she went.

“What will happen now?” she asked.

“You will change,” he said with a shrug of his shoulder, as though it was the most natural thing to do. “And you will live.”

She tossed back the covers of the bed and sat up. Looking around the strange surroundings, she caught her breath as she took in the opulence of the hotel room. The high ceilings with thick, ornate moldings painted in high-gloss white with gold layered in between the carvings. There was a brass chandelier hanging from the center of the ceiling with crystal beads dangling from each arm. When the sunlight hit them, rainbow colors danced around the room. It was beautiful and mesmerizing, unlike anything she had seen before . . . dancing colors of red, purple, blue, and gold.

Amanda was wearing her white nightgown, her hair hanging down to her waist. Her small suitcase was on top of a dresser, where she had put it the previous night. It was open, and she could see where she had folded her dress and left it when she had changed. Her black shoes were on the floor, beside the dresser, exactly where she had left them.

Standing in the middle of the room, she turned around, inhaling the foreign ambiance. Once again, she felt that floating feeling, as if she were watching someone else’s life. It was surreal, dreamlike, and certainly not happening to her.

The room was magnificent with a large vase of fresh flowers, mostly white roses and lilies, set upon a circular table near the door. There were white roses and lilies. She walked to the flowers and leaned over, breathing deeply. The sweet scent took her back to her parents’ farm. She had always loved gardening, spending long spring mornings tending to the vegetables but also to the flowers that Mamm had planted around the porch. Amanda loved to prune back the roses and clip the thorns. Sometimes her mother had even let her keep one or two roses in her own room. Always out of sight of visitors, since flower displays were prideful. Now she was surrounded by dozens of roses.

Indeed, she thought, I will change.

She hadn’t expected that the paparazzi would be at the hotel in Philadelphia. She had thought they would still be back in Lititz. So when they pulled up to the hotel, Amanda gasped and shied away from the window. She brushed against Alejandro as the people outside began to crowd around the SUV. Flashes went off as cameras were shoved close to the windows.

“Easy, Princesa,” he murmured. “We shall get you inside and settled into a room. Then it will calm down.”

“Calm down?”

“You can move about the hotel freely.”

She blinked. Hotel, she thought. She had never stayed in a hotel. She was nervous. What if she got lost? What if people stared at her? What if . . .

He put on his dark sunglasses and took a deep breath. “You wait for the doormen to open the doors. They will escort us inside and away from the paparazzi. Don’t say anything to those people, and if they touch you, don’t respond. Let the doormen handle it. They deal with this a lot,” he said.

“Touch me?” The thought horrified her.

“To get your attention,” he explained patiently.

When the door to the vehicle opened, Alejandro stepped out and, after straightening his suit jacket, reached his hand down to help Amanda out of the car. Hesitantly, she took his hand. Once outside, she was too aware that there were at least fifteen camera people stealing her image. Beyond them were screaming fans, mostly young girls clamoring for Alejandro’s attention. Amanda frowned and stared at them, remembering their visit to Intercourse, in Pennsylvania, a few weeks back when the crowd had started to recognize him.

The girls continued to scream and jump up, waving their arms in the air, anything to get his attention. Alejandro paused, looked at them, and nodded in acknowledgment. But he did not smile or stop to sign autographs or for photo taking. Instead, he placed his hand on the small of Amanda’s back and guided her through the crowd. There were five steps, and he held her elbow. He could tell that she was overwhelmed. Between the people and the noise, it was a new and not necessarily pleasant experience for Amanda. And he understood.

She wandered over to the doorway that led to her own private bathroom. It was dark in the room, and she left the door open as she turned on the water. The countertop felt cool to her touch. Marble. The floor was cool, too. No hardwood floors or area rugs made from old clothing to cover them.

She splashed cold water on her face. Her eyes stung. She had cried herself to sleep the night before, hugging the strange, fluffy pillow to her chest. It took an hour, but she eventually found her sleep, although it hadn’t been a restful sleep. She had awakened several times throughout the night, listening to the strange noises of Philadelphia that penetrated through the windows.

When she went back into the main room, Amanda took a deep breath, trying to decide what to do next. Get dressed, she told herself. Just like any other day.

The clothing that she had packed the day before seemed inadequate. Just three everyday dresses, her Sunday dress, and a nightgown. That was all she had. So she decided to wear her blue dress. As she pinned it shut, she smoothed down the fabric and glanced in the mirror.

It was a large mirror with a thick wooden frame painted gold. She had never seen a mirror like that before, and as she saw her reflection, she had to catch her breath. Is that really me? she wondered as she walked toward the mirror. With her bare feet and loose hair, she barely recognized herself. Usually, she only looked in the small mirror Mamm had hung in the washroom to make certain her hair was tidy. She hadn’t ever seen herself from head to toe. The image took her by surprise.

She was thin, almost too thin. Certainly she had lost weight over the past few weeks from the stress of living under the microscope of the media. When they had taken an interest in her relationship with Alejandro and found her father’s farm, Amanda had been too nervous to eat.

Her face looked gaunt, her cheekbones too high, and her skin too tanned. She wasn’t certain how that had happened because she hadn’t been outside too much during the past few weeks. Her dark eyes looked lifeless and scared, lacking the sparkle that she had always had. For a moment, the image of herself made her want to cry all over again.

Indeed, she realized, I am plain.

When they had first arrived inside the hotel, two men greeted Alejandro and escorted them through the main lobby, away from the peering eyes of the other hotel guests. Amanda stared as they walked, too aware that people were whispering to each other and pointing at her. Only this time, she realized, it wasn’t simply because she was Amish. It was because she was Amish and with Alejandro.

She cowered behind him, shielding herself from their gazes with his body.

When he realized that she was no longer next to him, he stopped walking, and she bumped into him. He laughed lightly and turned around.

“Princesa? You are all right?” He reached out and put his arm gently around her shoulder. “I thought we had lost you.”

She shook her head and lowered her eyes. His arm on her shoulder felt light yet heavy at the same time. She was too aware that people were staring. She thought she saw someone take a photo.
“Nee,”
she whispered shyly, wishing people would just go away.

Taking off his sunglasses with one hand, he touched the bottom of her chin with his finger and tilted her face so that she had no choice but to look at him. When their eyes met, he smiled. “You will get used to this, Amanda.”

She glanced at the people. “I could never get used to this,” she replied softly.

He chuckled and tapped his finger against the tip of her nose. “We shall see about that, Princesa. We shall see,” he teased. He looked up at the small crowd of hotel guests who stood a safe distance away, gawking at the scene. He smiled at them, a kind smile, but one that also warned them to stay away.

A man began speaking to Alejandro in a language that Amanda didn’t understand. Immediately, he put on his sunglasses again and continued walking, talking rapidly in Spanish to the man. Back and forth they volleyed, their singsong words sounding musical and fluid. Ignoring the people who watched them, Amanda tried to listen to the words. She understood nothing.

They stood before an elevator, one of the men pressing a button. When the doors opened, Alejandro escorted her inside the wood-paneled box. The other two men joined them, and the elevator rose up to the top floor of the building.

“Princesa,” he said softly, switching back to English. “They will bring your suitcase to your room. I have it adjoining mine so that I am nearby if you need me. It’s a secured floor, so only people who have rooms on it can access it.”

“Secured?”

He glanced at the two men. “From paparazzi,” he explained. “And these two men will also be nearby. They are my security guards when I travel.”

“Security guards?” What type of life, she wondered, does he really live? If she had pondered with curiosity about his life at some point, now she knew she was thrown directly into the middle of it. “Are we in danger?”

“No,” he replied, a simple answer that needed no further explanation.

When the doors opened, Alejandro took her arm and led her down the hallway. There were mirrors and paintings on the wall. She glanced at them, but Alejandro seemed determined to get her to her room. No time for exploring now. She wondered if she’d have time later to stare at those beautiful pieces of art that hung on the wall.

“This is your room,” he said as he opened the door for her.

He stood back and let her walk through the doorway. He did not enter behind her, giving her the privacy that she needed and that he had promised her. “We will only be here two nights. We can talk more tomorrow about what will happen next.”

She glanced at him over her shoulder. “What happens next?”

He laughed at the surprise on her face, realizing that she hadn’t thought much further than the moment when he had come to rescue her and take her away from the paparazzi frenzy on her father’s farm. “Well, we aren’t in Lancaster County anymore, no?”

She smiled, glancing around the room.
“Nee,”
she conceded.

“So we must come up with a plan,
sí
?”

“Ja,”
she answered.

“Now I have some things to do. I will be next door, Amanda,” he said, pointing toward a door by the dresser. “It locks on both sides. I will keep my side unlocked in case you need me.”