A Simple Song (14 page)

It wasn't long before Katrina could see that California was different from Cleveland. For one thing, it had lots of tall, odd-looking trees. Each one had a long trunk going all the way up with a head like a flower on top. They called them palm trees. Maybe it was because the foliage on top fanned out like fingers splayed from a palm. She wasn't sure. But there certainly were a lot of them growing on both sides of the streets. There were also more flowers and green plants here than she'd noticed in Cleveland. It wasn't anything like home, but it seemed like someone was trying.

Still, this city seemed mostly a mishmash of vehicles and cement—and how anyone knew how to get from one place to another was lost on her. Thankfully, she would never have to drive a car and figure these things out for herself. At least she hoped not!

As they drove, Brandy continued to ask Katrina questions. It was obvious she wanted to get reactions from her as they saw different things, and Katrina did not hold back. “The English world is such a different world,” she said. “It's hard to even describe how different it is.”

“So, tell me, what does it mean to be Amish?” Brandy asked. “Can you explain the difference between Amish and English? In a way our viewers can understand?”

Katrina thought hard. “A few years ago, I was shopping in town with my mother, and one of those big buses—the ones that bring English tourists who come to look at us—was parked there. I decided to watch the group of English people as they stood outside of a store. One English woman asked the man who was leading the group that same question: ‘What is the difference between the Amish and the English?' The man said to the group, ‘How many of you have a computer in your house?' and they all raised their hands. Then he said, ‘How many of you feel your home might be better off if you
didn't
have a computer in your house?' He encouraged them to be honest, and again, they all raised their hands. He said,
‘So how many of you will go home and get rid of your computers?' and no one raised a hand. Then he said, ‘That is the difference between English and Amish. The Amish choose to do without the things that they believe are harmful. The English do not.'”

Brandy nodded as if she understood. “Very interesting.” She glanced at the cameraman. “You got that, right?”

“Yep.”

“Here we are,” Brandy proclaimed as the big car pulled up into what appeared to be the entrance of a fancy hotel. “Home sweet home.”

Feeling a combination of exhaustion and curiosity, Katrina reached for her bag.

“Breezy Vicks is your roommate. I chose her because she claims to be a good Christian girl. But I'll let the desk know that your aunt will be staying with you too.” She handed Katrina a packet of papers. “These are your keys and your schedule and whatnot. For the first few days, the competition will be held right here in this hotel—on the main floor in the Monterrey Ballroom. It's all there in your packet. The fun starts tomorrow at nine o'clock sharp. I'm sure you won't be late.”

“No, I promise I will be early.” Katrina looked back at the shiny black car.

“Do you have to pick up all the contestants?” Aunt Alma asked.

Brandy laughed. “All two hundred of them? No way. For the most part, they're on their own when it comes to transportation.”

Katrina was puzzled.

Brandy patted her shoulder. “You, my dear, are special.”

“Oh.” Katrina thanked her again. But she wasn't sure she wanted to be special—not like that, anyway. Still, what could she say without sounding ungrateful?

“Just go straight on up to your room. It's on the twenty-second floor,” Brandy said. “You're all checked in. Your room number's on the key envelope.”

When they got up to room 2278, Katrina was unsure. “Should I knock on the door or just go in?”

“Knock,” Aunt Alma suggested.

But when she knocked, no one answered. Katrina explained to Aunt Alma how to slide the card in, just like in Cleveland, and when the light turned green, they opened the door. Just as they were going in, carrying all their things, a girl dressed in very little and with purple goop all over her face let out a scream. “What is it?” she demanded. “I didn't call for a maid.”

“We're not maids.” Katrina explained who she was and introduced her aunt. “You must be Breezy Vicks.”

“Yeah, I'm Breezy.” She reached for a white robe, tugging it on. “Don't you believe in knocking first?”

“I did knock. No one answered.”

“That's because I was washing my hair and I couldn't hear ya.” She ran her hand over her shoulder-length hair. It was pale yellow like dried wheat and appeared to have the texture of straw. “I need to go condition it before it dries.”

“Yes, don't let us keep you,” Aunt Alma said politely.

“I flew in last night from Dallas, Texas,” Breezy called from the bathroom, “so I just made myself at home. I took the bed by the window. Hope y'all don't mind.”

“That's all right.” Katrina looked at the beds, then at Aunt Alma. Both beds were heaped with clothes and shoes and things. It looked like enough clothes to outfit a small town.

Breezy emerged from the bathroom, rubbing something into her hair. “I just started unpacking all over the place, but you can just toss those things on my bed if ya like.” She smiled. “Hey, I bet y'all won't need much room in the closet. That's good news for me.”

“I brought three dresses,” Katrina told her.

“
Ja
, so did I,” Aunt Alma said.

“You're staying in this room too?” Breezy frowned.

“She will sleep with me,” Katrina said. “Brandy told me it was all right.”

“You already saw Brandy?”

“
Ja
, she picked us up in her big black car,” Aunt Alma said. “So big, it could hold a dozen people in it.”

“Brandy picked you up in a limo?” Breezy seemed displeased. “I had to take a taxi.”

“She said she cannot pick up all contestants,” Aunt Alma told her. “But she said Katrina is special.”

Breezy's eyes narrowed slightly.

“Brandy was probably worried that we'd get lost,” Katrina said. “We're not used to cities and getting around.”

Breezy's brow softened. “Yeah, that's probably true. You'll have to excuse me. Some people say we Texans act like we own the world.” She laughed. “Brandy is sweet, though, isn't she?” Without waiting for a response, she went back to the bathroom and closed the door with a bang. Katrina and Aunt Alma began to move Breezy's clothes from their bed.

“Should we hang them on hangers?” Aunt Alma asked.

“
Ja
, maybe so.”

Some of the slippery clothes and tops without much to hold them together didn't seem to want to stay on the hangers, so they decided to carefully fold those pieces, placing them into
the drawers on Breezy's side of the room. When those got full, they used some of the drawers on the other side since they knew they wouldn't need them all.

“I don't know how she possibly walks in these shoes,” Aunt Alma declared as they paired up Breezy's shoes, lining them up two rows deep on the floor of the closet.

“There are enough here for a centipede,” Katrina said quietly.

Finally, all Breezy's clothes were put away. They started to unpack their own things, but as they were hanging up their dresses, Katrina was surprised to see Aunt Alma unfolding a colorful dress—the dress that had belonged to Mammi when she was young.

“What is that doing here?” Katrina asked.

Aunt Alma gave her a sheepish smile. “Sadie brought it over to the house the other day.” She held up the pair of boots. “She thought you might have use for them here.”

Katrina frowned. “I don't think so.”

“Well, just in case.” Aunt Alma studied the patchwork dress. “I wonder if Mamm made this herself. She was always good at sewing.”

“
Ja
, I'll bet she did.” Katrina ran her hand over the fabric.

“I brought sewing too,” Aunt Alma said as she began to open up the food box. “I used my quilting fabrics to pack these jars.” She took out jars of pickles, tomatoes, applesauce, and beets, lining them up in a pretty row on the counter by the coffeemaker. Then she put the perishable foods in the little refrigerator.

With their things put away, Katrina and Aunt Alma decided to tidy up the room a bit. As they made Breezy's bed, attempting to make it look just like the other one, which was
a challenge, Katrina tried not to feel envious that it was near the window. Finally, with the room put back together, they sat down in the two chairs.

“Do you think Breezy is all right?” Aunt Alma asked quietly. “She's been in the bathroom an awfully long time. Do you suppose she's sick?”

“I don't know. I hope not.”

Aunt Alma looked around the room. “A hotel room is like a small house,” she observed. “I expected a simple bedroom like we had at the Zooks' last night. But this is better, I think.”

“All three of us in a room like last night”—Katrina lowered her voice—“with all Breezy's clothes . . . would've been crowded.”

“
Ja
. For sure.”

Breezy came out of the bathroom again. The purple goop was gone from her face, and her hair now gleamed like a freshly groomed horse on Sunday.

“Oh, you cleaned the room.” She laughed. “I guess you really are maids.” She went over to peek in the closet, then looked at her bed. “Nice work. But you didn't need to do that. The hotel maids will take care of it.” She looked at the clock. “Or maybe it's too late. But in the future, you don't need to make the beds.”

“We always make the beds,” Aunt Alma said.

“But this is a hotel. The maids are supposed to do that.”

“No, no,” Aunt Alma assured her. “We are supposed to do that. Idle hands are the devil's tools.”

Breezy laughed, then pointed her finger at Katrina. “Do you really sing, or is this just some kind of publicity stunt for the show? I heard their ratings are way down. I hope this isn't just a scam. It's not, is it?”

“Katrina truly sings,” Aunt Alma told her. “Go ahead, Katrina. Sing for her.”

Katrina didn't feel like singing.

“Come on,” Breezy begged. “I've never heard a Quaker sing before.”

“We are Amish,” Katrina said.

“Okay then, I've never heard an Amish girl sing before.”

Katrina considered giving her a halfhearted rendition of “Puff” but then realized she could not sing unless her heart was in it. So she sang it with her usual energy, but only a few verses this time, not the whole song.

“Wow, you really can sing.” Breezy sat down on the edge of her bed with an astonished expression.

“Now you sing,” Aunt Alma commanded.

Breezy looked reluctant.

“Come on.” Katrina imitated her. “I've never heard a Texan sing.”

Breezy sang, and although her voice was loud and interesting, something about it didn't feel quite right to Katrina, although not really knowing music, she couldn't begin to explain it. Instead, she clapped her hands and thanked Breezy.

“A bunch of us are getting together downstairs for drinks,” Breezy told her. “Y'all are welcome to join us if you like.”

“No, thank you,” Aunt Alma said. “We have water up here to drink and our food too if we are hungry. We are fine, thank you.”

“You sure?” Breezy looked at Katrina.

“
Ja
, I'm sure.” However, as she watched Breezy leaving later—after she'd changed her clothes several times—Katrina was not completely sure. Mostly she was curious. She wanted to see what it was the young people spoke of and did down
there together. She wasn't even sure why she cared or was interested, but she was.

Even though the clock said seven thirty, Katrina and Aunt Alma both decided they were tired enough to go to bed. “It's later at home,” Katrina reminded her aunt as they pulled on their nightgowns. “Everyone there will be asleep by now.”

Worried that Breezy might stumble in the darkness, Katrina turned on the bathroom light and left the door partly open. But when Breezy arrived, she entered the room singing loudly and turned on all the lights.

Katrina and Aunt Alma sat up in bed, blinking into the light. When Breezy saw them, she seemed shocked, and then she began to laugh hysterically—as if they were the funniest thing she'd ever seen. She was laughing so hard that she was snorting as loud as a hungry hog.

“Are you all right?” Katrina asked as she got out of bed, peering closely at Breezy as she staggered around in her high-heeled shoes, still laughing. When Katrina got close to her she caught a whiff of something—something that reminded her of a time when Drew had come home smelling like that and acting funny, long before he got baptized and got serious about Hannah and before Daed got hurt. Daed had gotten angry and said that Drew was drunk!

“Are you drunk?” Katrina demanded.

“Nah, I'm not drunk,” Breezy told her, waving a finger in her face. “Are you drunk?”

“No, of course not!” She sniffed Breezy again. “You've been drinking, though. I can smell it.”

“Well, duh, I tol' ya I went down for drinks.” She kicked off a shoe and nearly fell over. “Tha's drinking, isn't it?” She kicked off the other, and this time she did fall down.

“Let me help you.” Katrina pulled her back up.

“I don' need no help. And I'm not gonna be a member of the goody-two-shoes club no more . . . no more, no more.” She started singing again. “Hit the road, Jack.”

“Come on.” Katrina guided her to the bed. “You should get some sleep.”

“Yep. Tha's jus' what I plan on doing.” She flopped back onto her bed and with her clothes still on, fell asleep. Katrina went to the closet to retrieve a white cotton blanket she'd seen earlier. She laid it over Breezy, then went to get a drink of water. On her way back to bed, she was surprised to see that it was 2:13 a.m. Seemed awful late to be going to bed.

“Do you really think she was drunk?” Aunt Alma whispered as Katrina crawled back into bed.

“
Ja
, I think so.”

“Oh, my.” She sighed. “We will have to pray for her.”

Before she went to sleep again, Katrina did pray for Breezy. She figured Aunt Alma was doing the same. But it was odd praying for an English girl. What did one ask God to do? Finally Katrina decided to simply ask God to bless Breezy. How could she go wrong with that? After all, the Bible said to bless your enemies. Not that Breezy was an enemy. But what could it hurt to ask God to bless her? And if Breezy was going to feel anything like Drew had felt the day after he'd gotten drunk, the poor girl would need it.