Amish Circle Letters II: The Second Circle of Letters (33 page)

He could hear the mumbling behind him. The crowd was beginning to liven up. If people hadn
’t recognized him before, he knew the word was now floating through the crowd. He could sense the energy as more people began to peer over the heads of others, trying to see him, trying to take a photograph of him. The cell phones were in the air snapping photos of Alejandro kneeling beside the Amish woman on the streets of Manhattan.
No
, he corrected himself.
Photos of Viper with the Amish woman.
Alejandro wondered which one would wind up on the entertainment channels and the tabloids later on this evening.

The police arrived moments later, their cars making their way through the crowded streets, avoiding the pedestrians who didn
’t seem to care that they were breaking the law by darting across the road. Once the police had parked their cars, ignoring the other drivers who began honking their horns at being blocked and delayed, two policemen began to push the crowd back, creating a buffer so that the ambulance would be able to get through when it arrived. Another police officer approached Alejandro, quickly assessing that he was a good person to start interviewing.

“What happened here, sir?”

Alejandro glanced up, peering at the officer from behind his dark sunglasses. He tried to pick his words carefully, knowing that too many people were probably recording the scene. What he said now would most likely be replayed over and over again, on television, on interviews, and in court when the young woman sued for having been hit by his driver.

“I
’m not exactly certain,” Alejandro said. “I just know that she was hit by the limousine.”

The officer peered at him for a moment. It was the moment of recognition. “Aren
’t you..?”

And so it begins, he thought wistfully. Avoiding the question, Alejandro glanced at the woman. “
No disrespect,” he said. “But she’s in a lot of pain, Officer. Do you have any idea when the ambulance will get here?”

To Alejandro
’s relief, the officer leaned his chin over to his shoulder, talking into his walkie-talkie. While the officer was trying to get a reading on the location of the ambulance, Alejandro turned his attention back to the young woman. “Amanda?” he asked softly. “Amanda? You hanging in there,
princesa
?”

She nodded slightly. Her face was pale and tears now fell freely down her cheeks. “I just wanted a pair of sunglasses,” she said, her words barely audible.

“What?” He leaned down, trying to hear what she was saying. “What did you say?”

She reached for his hand again, holding it tightly in her own. “While I was waiting for my train,” she whispered. “I was crossing the street for a pair of sunglasses.”

He didn’t have an opportunity to ask her about what she had said. The ambulance was pulling up behind them, the horn beeping for people to get out of the way. The officer in charge motioned for Alejandro to back away so that the paramedics could bring the gurney closer.

Respectfully, he moved back but stopped just a few feet from where she was stretched out on the road. He noticed the white cap laying on the ground a few feet away and stooped to pick it up. Clutching it into his hands, Alejandro watched as the paramedics worked, quickly taking her vital signs and asking a rapid barrage of questions. Within minutes, Amanda Beiler was gently lifted from the streets of Manhattan, placed on the crisp white sheet covering the gurney, and whisked away to a hospital.

Alejandro stared after it, too aware that his cell phone was vibrating in his pocket and the officer was asking him a question. But his mind was elsewhere. This young woman, dressed in such plain clothes and with such a pure, fresh look on her face, lingered in his memory and he found that he could think of nothing else. She was alone in Manhattan and clearly out of her element. He knew the feeling from his own days as an immigrant with his mother in Miami. And he also knew that he wasn’t going to make that appointment with Richard Gray. Only this was now by his own choice, not because of being delayed by the accident.

One More Thing…

If you enjoyed this book, I’d be very grateful if you’d post a short review on Amazon. Your support really does make a difference. Not only do I read all the reviews in order to see what you liked and how I can improve, but they are also a great source of motivation. When I hear from my readers and fans, it really makes me want to keep writing…just for you.

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With blessings,

Sarah Price
http://www.facebook.com/fansofsarahprice

About Sarah Price

The Preiss family emigrated from Europe in 1705, settling in Pennsylvania as the area’s first wave of Mennonite families. Sarah Price has always respected and honored her ancestors through exploration and research about her family’s history and their religion. At nineteen, she befriended an Amish family and lived on their farm throughout the years.

Twenty-five years later, Sarah Price splits her time between her home outside of New York City and an Amish farm in Lancaster County, PA where she retreats to reflect, write, and reconnect with her Amish friends and Mennonite family.

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