by Sarah Price
She had never seen anyone dance with such fluid movements, such grace and sensuality. The way he moved, his hips rolling from side to side, caused a blush to rise to her cheeks. What was it about Alejandro that made her so quick to feel embarrassed and yet, at the same time, totally unable to walk away?
“¡Ay, Princesa!” he exclaimed when he turned around and saw her watching him. He lifted his hand to his ears and removed the earbuds. “I didn’t know you were there!”
“Obviously,” she said softly.
There was a moment of awkward silence. Neither one knew what to say.
“You want to listen?” he finally offered, crossing the room until he stood before her. “It’s one of my songs.”
She lit up. “Really?”
Gently, he placed each earbud in her ears. He fumbled with the device in his hand, and suddenly her head was filled with music, fast-paced and heart-stopping music. The beat of the music pounded against her ears, and she jumped backward, as if trying to escape the noise. Alejandro quickly clicked a button on the side of the device, decreasing the volume, and she relaxed, lifting her eyes to stare at him as she heard the music, softer now.
And then she heard it.
His voice.
He was singing, his words fast and in rhythm with the music. Most of the words she could not make out, and she wasn’t certain whether he was singing in English or Spanish. But she did know that she felt the passion of his words inside her chest. Shutting her eyes, she listened to the words and the music, feeling her body sway in unison with the beat. When the song ended, she opened her eyes.
“Oh, Alejandro,” she breathed, her words barely audible.
“You like?”
“I think I do, ja,” she whispered as she took the earbuds out.
He laughed. “You think?” He accepted the earbuds from her and held them in his hands. “That’s a first. Most people either love it or hate it.”
“I’ve never heard anything like that,” she said quickly. “And how you dance . . .”
“¿Sí?”
She stumbled over her words. “I don’t think I could ever dance like that.”
“Probably not, with a cast on your leg,” he said. He hesitated, setting the earbuds and iPod onto the top of the table, and then he approached her. “¿Permiso?” he asked as he reached out his arms for her. “May I?” he repeated in English.
She didn’t answer but looked down at his hands. He placed one hand on her hip, and then he gently pulled her closer. His stomach brushed lightly against hers, and he held her there. With his other hand, he touched her free hand and let his fingers entwine with hers.
“Like this,” he said, moving his feet slowly, careful to hold her upright until she gained her balance.
“Oh,” she whispered, uncertain of her movements and feeling awkward with her cast. It made any kind of graceful sidestep impossible. “I’m not good at this,” she said, trying to pull away. She could smell his cologne, feel the tightness of his muscles, and sense the danger in his touch. She had to get away from him.
“No, no,” he said, his voice low, as he tightened his grip on her. “You just are not used to it.” He began to hum softly and moved his body in time with the tune. “Just follow my lead,” he murmured, lowering his chin so that his mouth was beside her ear. “Slowly,” he said. “Slow.”
“Alejandro,” she said, wishing that she knew what to say. His arms held her so close, and she felt her own heart pound inside her chest. She had never been so close to a man before, and despite her own willpower, she liked it. “I . . . I . . .”
“¿Sí, Princesa?” he responded, his voice barely audible. She didn’t have to look to know that his eyes were shut. He was listening to music that only he heard. He seemed to fold her body against his, the pressure from his chest and hips tight against hers. “¿Qué quieres?” he murmured.
“I really should go back before my mamm returns,” she blurted out, hating the words as soon as she uttered them.
Gently, he released her. For a moment, there was a guilty look on his face. “I’m sorry, Amanda,” he said. “I forgot, for a moment.”
In that instant, she knew. She knew that it was time for him to return to his world. For all of the energy and life that he instilled in the farm, and in her, he was too much of the other world and needed to return. Whether he knew it, she was well aware that he missed it. Even if there was an attraction between them, and that she could not deny, she was also well aware that nothing would come of it. Nothing but more heartache.
She reached for her crutches and shuffled back to the door. “Supper will be ready in a short while,” she said, refusing to look at him. “Mamm went to market, and when she returns, we’ll sit for supper.” She didn’t wait for a response before she slipped through the door; fighting the tears that started to flood her eyes, she hurried back to the other side of the house.
Chapter Twelve
On Saturday evening, Elias had invited Alejandro to attend the church service on the following morning. “You might like it, being that you’re into singing and all,” Elias said.
“I might just take you up on that,” Alejandro had replied, glancing across the dinner table at Amanda.
“It’s long,” she had warned him, her voice a soft whisper. “Three hours.”
“Not too long for thanking the good Lord,” Lizzie had reprimanded.
Amanda had rolled her eyes, but only so Alejandro could see.
Now, he stood in the doorway, watching Amanda as she paced in the grass just off the farthest edge of the porch. Over her dark-blue dress she wore a white organdy bib and apron. On her head, instead of her usual white one, she wore a black, heart-shaped prayer kapp. Her face was scrubbed clean and shone in the early morning sun. The length of the dress did not hide her cast completely, and she leaned on the crutches as she waited for everyone.
She presented a pretty picture, and he enjoyed watching her, especially since she sang to herself, completely unaware that she was being observed. He listened to the tune and tried to see the music in his head. It flowed slowly but with an interesting beat. Her voice was light and airy, each note ever so sweet to his ears.
“What do you sing, Princesa?” he asked as he approached her.
When she turned around, startled by his presence, she didn’t speak. Instead, she stared at him as if seeing a stranger. He suspected that she was taken aback by his perfectly tailored suit jacket and crisply pressed shirt, a reminder that he was not Amish, but an outsider given the honor of accompanying her family to worship.
“Princesa?” he asked, reminding her to answer him.
“I’m sorry.” She shook her head as if clearing away her thoughts. “What did you ask me, now?”
He laughed and crossed over the porch to her side. “The song. What were you singing?”
“Oh!” she exclaimed, color flooding her cheeks when she realized that he had been watching her. “It’s one of our hymns.”
“Elias mentioned that you sing. I’m interested to hear your hymns.”
Amanda laughed, her eyes sparkling. “Ja,” she said. “We all sing a lot.”
“I grew up in the Catholic church. They sing, too.” He leaned forward and added, “A lot.”
“I’ll be interested to hear how the two services compare,” she replied, a teasing tone in her voice.
At that moment, Lizzie emerged from inside, shutting the door behind her. It was close to eight o’clock, and the church service started at nine. Elias had told him that they liked to get there by eight thirty in order to greet their friends and welcome the other members. Amanda was quick to add that most of the young people arrived closer to nine. Alejandro suspected that when Anna was home, Amanda would drive with her after her parents, enjoying the unusual treat of having extra time at home alone and delaying the three-hour church service.
Elias and Alejandro helped Amanda into the back of the buggy. Her leg felt uncomfortable. She had to sit sideways in the back. Alejandro sat next to her, his own legs pulled up toward his chest so that he didn’t touch her cast for fear of hurting her. As the buggy lurched forward, he swayed over and his arm brushed against Amanda’s. She blushed and turned her head to look out the back of the buggy window.
The ride was silent, except for the humming of the wheels and the horse’s hooves hitting the macadam in a rhythmic melody. Alejandro shut his eyes and listened. It was music indeed. The beat sank into his memory, and he found himself forming words to go along with it.
She reached out and touched his arm. When he opened his eyes and looked at her, she frowned as if to ask him what he was doing. But she didn’t have to ask the question. He knew. Smiling, he leaned over and whispered, “I’m making a song from the beat of the horse’s hooves.”
“A song?” she whispered back.
He didn’t have time to answer as her daed pulled into another farm, the lane already littered with other buggies. Men were congregating around, talking, and catching up on the latest news. Alejandro stared out the back window, feeling a little more than foolish for having said that he would attend. Clearly, he was an outsider. Despite having known that feeling for much of his life, he suddenly felt trepidation about being among so many Amish people.
“Don’t worry,” she whispered and placed her hand on his. The gesture startled him, and he stared down at her hand. Then he looked up and met her gaze. Her dark eyes seemed to dance at him as she smiled. “They don’t bite,” she said quietly.
He caressed her hand with his thumb and squeezed gently. There was something so charming about her tenderness and caring for his feelings. He wasn’t used to such true empathy. In his world, the women cared only for themselves and what they could get out of him. They wanted to advance their careers in modeling or dancing, or just in hitting the tabloids by attending an event, clinging to his arm. Once he tried to get to know most of them, they were shallow and empty shells of people, devoid of true intelligence or spirit. They were quite unlike Amanda, who lived for ice cream and hummed while she waited for people.
He leaned over, his lips almost brushing her ear, and whispered, “Danke.” When she blushed, he couldn’t hide his mischievous smile. “I don’t bite, either.” He winked at her.
As soon as Amanda emerged from the buggy, she was lost in a sea of people. Women clamored around her, helping her into the farmhouse where the church service would be held. At the door, she glanced over her shoulder and searched through the Amish men for Alejandro. He was easy to spot as he didn’t wear a hat and his suit was different. Their eyes met, and he waved his hand, just enough so that she would know he was going to be fine among the Amish men.
“Come meet some of the community,” Elias said, clapping his hand on Alejandro’s shoulder. “They’ll be curious to know about you, now!”
The men were lingering in the barn, most of them having unhitched their horses and tying them up near hay bags that the host family had provided. If Alejandro felt out of place, it wasn’t noticeable. Immediately, he began talking with two men whom Elias had introduced to him, laughing with their jokes and stories. When he glanced around at the other men, it was clear that this was community time, a day to unwind and share with one another after a long week of working in the fields, farms, and shops.
“So I hear you have a knack for running over young Amish girls in the city,” one of the older men teased.
“Dat’s gut! Keeps our young folk from wanting to leave the farm, that’s for sure and certain,” the other man joined in.
Alejandro smiled and shook his head. “I assure you that it was a once-in-a-lifetime event,” he said. “Wasn’t intended, and certainly was a blessing that she wasn’t hurt worse.”
Elias placed his hand on Alejandro’s shoulder. “Took wunderbar gut care of our Amanda, and that is a blessing, too.”
The first man, Jonas Yoder, tugged at his graying beard. “Funny accent, that,” he said, peering at Alejandro.
“I’m from Cuba.”
Several other men seemed to be listening but were reluctant to join the two men who stood near Elias and Alejandro. Jonas frowned. “Cuba, you say? Not familiar with that town.”
Alejandro laughed. “It’s a country, not a town.” He noticed that the men were watching him, waiting for more details. “It’s an island south of Florida.”
“I take it you’re not a farmer, then,” Jonas said, obviously curious about Alejandro’s background. It wasn’t often that strangers came to church, especially ones who wore fancy suits and spoke with thick accents from another country.
Elias chimed in and explained, “He’s a singer.” Several eyebrows were raised, and a few men nodded their heads. “Performs in different countries, he says.”
“Ja vell,” Jonas said. “You’ll hear singing today. Might not understand it if you don’t speak German, though.”
It wasn’t until a few minutes before nine that the men began to move toward the house. Alejandro stayed near Elias, following his lead in order to stay as inconspicuous as possible. Clearly, that was impossible. He stuck out among Elias’s neighbors, and he noticed that the women were not nearly as warm and welcoming as the Beilers. Most of them eyed him suspiciously as did most of the younger men and children.
Inside the house, he noticed that the women were standing in the kitchen, forming a semicircle. Several younger ones had just arrived and moved through the circle, shaking hands and kissing the other women on the lips in greeting. Once they stood at the end of the circle, Alejandro noticed that several men moved away from the group of Amish men and moved toward the women, shaking hands and greeting each one individually.
Once those men were finished, they walked into the large gathering room, which was really three rooms with dividing walls that had been opened, and sat in chairs that were situated in the middle of the room. There were two rows of six chairs in the center, facing each other. Several men sat in those two rows. Behind the chairs were rows of hard benches. After the first men sat, the older women walked into the room and sat on the benches to the rear of the room. The men then walked into the room and sat on the other side. Once they were situated, the young unmarried women sat behind the older ones. Only then did the unmarried men enter and sit on the benches behind the other men.
Alejandro watched the progression and orderliness with amazement. He had followed Elias into the room and had sat down behind the chairs. Elias had whispered to him that the men sitting in the chairs were the leaders of the church district as well as the man who owned the farm where the service was being held.
The room was silent, no noise, not even from the small kinner. Without warning, the men simultaneously reached up and took off their hats in perfect unison, sliding them under the bench where they sat. Some of the men in the back of the room were able to reach up and hang theirs on hooks that were nailed into the walls. More silence.
And then the singing began.
Alejandro listened to the music, so pure and natural. The words flowed smoothly. One man would sing a word, dragging it out for almost thirty seconds in a specific melody that only the Amish knew. When he was finished with the word, the rest of the congregation would pick up and sing, each word stretched out in the appropriate melody, the unison of their voices breathtakingly beautiful. Elias joined the men, clutching a chunky book in his hand. When Alejandro looked at the book, he saw that it was written in High German, the words almost impossible to read. Yet the Amish not only could read it and understand it but also sing it.
Alejandro felt at a disadvantage since he could only listen to it.
Still, the music emanating from the gathering touched his soul. He found himself shutting his eyes, listening to the sound. It was haunting and ancient, reminiscent of years of suffering and perseverance. He didn’t have to k
now the words to understand that much. He knew the history of the Amish from having researched it back in New York City. He understood that they had suffered as much at the hands of the Catholic Church as his own people had suffered at the hands of the government. Like the Anabaptists, his own mother had fled the country, taking Alejandro to the safety of America so that they, too, could live their lives in the manner they wanted, without fear of persecution.
Were they really so different after all? he wondered.
When he opened his eyes, he saw that she was watching him. Her mouth was moving, but her voice was lost in the sea of others, singing. She didn’t have to look at the book in her hands to know the words. She held his gaze, and he felt something move within him. For the longest time, he couldn’t tear his eyes from hers. The music, the people, the feeling of spirituality. He had never felt so close to God as he did at that moment, seated on a hard bench, listening to hymns in a language whose words he did not understand but whose meaning he could truly sense, and staring at a young woman he knew he could never have.
Amanda could not help but stare back. She was mesmerized by his expression, so full of grace and peace. She knew that he came from a different world. Just looking at him was a reminder. The way he dressed, the way he walked, the way he held his head up so high and shoulders back so straight. He was so confident, a true man of the world. Yet as she had watched him, she realized something: despite his worldly lifestyle, he was also a child of God.
When he sat on the bench, with his eyes shut, she could tell that he was listening to the sounds of the voices singing together in unison of the glory of God and the frailty of humankind. The path to heaven might be narrow, she thought, as the song said, but she also wondered if Alejandro had been correct. Just as there was more than one way to worship God, perhaps there was more than just one path that led to heaven. It was a moment of clarity for her, and she realized that Alejandro had helped her to comprehend it.
