A Simple Song (13 page)

Katrina shrugged. “It's a free world. Just don't expect anyone to let you take their picture up close. It's just not done here, and it's rude to try.”

They promised to respect that, and after thanking her for cooperating, they went on their way. She glanced at the house, thankful that Mamm hadn't seen them here—at least Katrina didn't think she had since Mamm hadn't made an appearance. In all likelihood, she and Sadie were still up to their elbows in laundry. Although Sadie would be disappointed to have missed the film crew, it was probably for the best.

It wasn't until the following Sunday, after church, that Katrina found out that the film crew had stirred up some trouble by trying to get a little too close to some children playing outside of the school where Hannah taught. Naturally, it was tracked back to Katrina and her family, resulting in a meeting with Bishop Hershberger. Because Daed was still laid up in bed, it was Mamm, Drew, and Katrina who went.

It didn't make things a bit easier that Bishop Hershberger was Hannah Hershberger's father. And Hannah was Drew's intended . . . or nearly. Still, there wasn't much to be done about it except to go and listen to the bishop's lecture about the Ordnung's position on photography and vainglory and singing, as well as the importance of taking her
rumspringa
time seriously. “This is meant to be a time for you to plan for your future, not to destroy your future before you get there,” Bishop Hershberger told Katrina.

“I am sorry that the photographers were not more considerate,” she told him.

“I am sorry you felt that it was acceptable to invite such people into our settlement.”

She wanted to point out that she hadn't invited them but knew it was futile. He continued to talk at length about how he had raised his daughter to be humble and gentle and kind, “to serve others before thinking of herself.” He glanced at Drew.

“Hannah is a fine girl indeed,” Mamm conceded. “Katrina would do well to imitate her.”

“We apologize for Katrina's thoughtlessness,” Drew said curtly. “If I were her father, I would be most disappointed in her behavior. You can be sure that my children, if God blesses me to have any, will be much more obedient than her. If my father hadn't been injured and laid up, I'm sure none of this would have happened.”

Bishop Hershberger pointed a finger at Katrina. “Your freedom is not meant to be a stumbling block for you or others. It is meant to show you the value of serving God.”

“I understand that.” She looked down at her lap, biting her lip.

“Our community is not for everyone. The road to righteousness is narrow, and few can travel it. It is up to you to decide which way you will go.”

“I'm certain Katrina will make the right choice,” Mamm said firmly. “I've been assured that she and her brother Cal plan to follow Drew's fine example and begin to train for baptism very soon. Isn't that right, Katrina?”

She forced herself to look at the bishop. “I—uh—I think so.”

“But your decision isn't firm yet, is it?” Bishop Hershberger peered curiously at her.

“I love God with my whole heart,” she said.

“Do you love the Lord enough to put all folly behind you,
to obey all his commands, and to live as a humble servant without seeking out any form of vainglory?”

Katrina looked back down at her lap. She knew he was referring to singing.

“Yes, I was afraid of that.” He sighed heavily. He lectured a while longer before, finally satisfied that he had made himself clear, he allowed them to leave.

Drew didn't say anything as they got into their buggy, but it was clear he was angry. She didn't even blame him.

“I'm sorry, Drew. I didn't know—”

“That's just it,” he snapped. “You don't
know
anything. You go around acting like you are the center of the world, like no one matters but you, like you are English! I don't know why you even came back from Cleveland. You obviously don't belong here. You don't want to be here. Why don't you just go to Hollywood and stay there? At least stay there until you're certain that you want to be part of this community.”

“Drew.”
Mamm's voice was stern. “That is a harsh way to speak to your sister.”

“My sister?” Drew turned with a red face. “She has just humiliated me in front of Hannah's father. You know that I want to marry Hannah. You know I took classes—I went through baptism—even though I was so busy working the farm ever since Daed got hurt. I knew it was important. Part of growing up! And while I'm over there breaking my back for Uncle Willis, knowing full well that he and Aunt Fannie might take over the farm completely when Daadi dies, and I might be left with nothing and Hannah will never marry me, my little sister is out gallivanting around, competing in
English singing
contests
, and making our family look like a bunch of shallow fools who get called in by the bishop!”

Katrina was crying now. She had never been spoken to like that by Drew—or anyone. His words stung worse than a beating. And she knew what he said was true. She deserved his wrath . . . and more.

No one said anything the rest of the way home, but as soon as the buggy stopped, Katrina jumped down and ran straight over to Daadi's house—not to see Daadi but to speak to Aunt Alma. Finding her in the garden, she told her the whole story.

“Oh, poor dear.” Aunt Alma hugged her. “Well, I'm not surprised that Drew was upset. I know how much he cares for Hannah Hershberger. But it seems unfair to blame you for what those silly camera folks did. They're English. How can they know better?”

“Maybe we shouldn't go to Hollywood,” Katrina told her. “Maybe it's a big mistake.”

Aunt Alma looked truly disappointed now. “Well, dear, that's your decision to make. But I was looking forward to it. I have my airline ticket. Bekka helped me to get it a few days ago. It's not on the same airplane as you, but I will get there first and wait for you to arrive.”

Katrina wiped her damp cheeks. “Yes, I suppose we should just go ahead with it. Daed's back has been worse than ever this week. And now Drew wants me gone anyway. He hopes I never come back.”

“I'm sure that's not what he meant.”

Katrina was not so sure, but as she walked back home, her resolve grew stronger. She would go, and she would do everything possible to win some money for Daed, and then if she was no longer welcome at home, she would find a life somewhere else. After all, hadn't Mammi done just that?

The following week made it easy for Katrina to say farewells to her family. Although it was not said, she felt as if her family was shunning her. They seemed to avoid her, saying no more than necessary, or if they saw her coming they would distract themselves with a chore. Of course, she knew that Cal and Sadie still stood behind her—when no one else was around to hear or see. Katrina understood this. She knew that Cal had to work with Drew every day, and if he showed his sympathy toward Katrina, it would drive a bitter wedge between the two brothers. And if Sadie revealed her true feelings about Katrina going to Hollywood, it would earn her many a stern lecture from Mamm. Because they had to stay and live in this house with this family, they needed to distance themselves from her. They needed to keep peace.

Katrina knew it would be easier for everyone after she was gone. Even Aunt Alma was suffering over at Daadi's house. Aunt Fannie was determined to make Aunt Alma's life even more miserable than it had been before. She'd even told Aunt Alma that if she left, she'd better not plan on coming back. Yet Aunt Alma remained determined.

Meanwhile, Daed gave no resistance whatsoever, but that was only because he was getting worse. Katrina knew he was worse because now he was taking his pills daily. The same pills he had detested before. As a result, he stayed in a permanent fog, so much so that he had barely understood Katrina when she told him goodbye.

“You are getting married?” he'd said with confusion in his eyes.

“No, Daed, I'm going on a trip.”

“With your husband?”

“No, Daed. With Aunt Alma.”

He'd barely nodded. “
Ja, ja.
You go with Aunt Alma. It's good.”

“We're going to get you the money you need to get your back fixed, Daed.”

His eyes had barely flickered with what she imagined was hope. “
Ja, ja.
That's a good girl, Katrina. God bless you, and Aunt Alma too.”

At least she had Daed's blessing when they left the following morning, even if it was a somewhat drug-induced sort of blessing. Hadn't she heard that God worked in mysterious ways?

Because the Lehmans had a large order of soap and candles needed immediately in a shop in Millersburg, Bekka had talked her parents into letting Peter drive the buggy. Since she'd gotten all her work done ahead of time, Bekka was allowed to go too. Katrina suspected that Bekka had something to do with the fact that the Millersburg order hadn't been shipped last week, but she didn't mention this. Mostly she was grateful.

“Are you sad to be leaving?” Bekka asked as Peter drove them through the settlement in the gray dawn light.

“
Ja
. . . I would be lying if I said I wasn't,” Katrina confessed.

“I'm glad to be going,” Aunt Alma said. “I think we're having an adventure.”

“
Ja
, I hope so.” Katrina smiled to cover up the pain that was inside of her. Mamm had not gotten up this morning to say goodbye. She had not even said goodbye the night before. Nor had Drew. It helped some to know that Cal and Sadie still loved her. But at the same time, she couldn't help but think that she had divided their home.

“We missed you at the group singing last night,” Bekka told her.

“I missed it too.” Katrina had purposely stayed home in the hopes that she would have an evening with her family, but Cal and Drew had gone out and Mamm went to bed early. She did have a nice evening with Sadie, though. They made four dozen sugar cookies to take on the trip.

“We had something for you last night.” Bekka giggled. “Should I give it to her now?” she called up to Peter.

“
Ja
. Why not?”

Bekka pulled out a box wrapped in brown paper. “Everyone—well, not everyone, but a lot of your friends contributed money so I could buy you this.” She handed it to Katrina.

Katrina slowly unwrapped the small parcel. To her surprise, it was a cellular phone. “What?” She looked at Bekka.

“It's so you can stay in touch. You can call my office phone and let me know how you're doing. Then I'll pass the news on to the others.”

“But I don't know how to use this.”

“All the instructions are in the box,” she said excitedly. “I ordered it online right after Cleveland, but I spoke to a man on the phone, and he said there's some kind of smart thing
inside, and when you get to Hollywood, you take it to one of their places and they'll get you all set up.”

Katrina didn't know what to say—or what she would do with a cell phone. She hugged Bekka. “Thank you. I hope I can figure it out.”

As the sun was coming up, they all urged Katrina to sing. “It will be good practice for you,” Bekka persuaded her. So for the next hour or so, Katrina sang. She had to admit, she did feel better when she sang. It seemed to smooth out all the rough spots in her life. She'd also brought Mammi's radio and a good supply of batteries.

Once again, the buggy stopped at the Millersburg bus station. Goodbyes were said, and Katrina led Aunt Alma inside and up to the ticket counter, where they purchased tickets to Cleveland. “When do you want to come back?” the man asked.

“I don't know for sure,” Katrina admitted.

He peered curiously at her. “Well, let's just leave them open-ended.”

“Open-ended?”

“So you can return whenever you like.”

She nodded. “
Ja
. . . whenever we like.” The man did not know that she and Aunt Alma might not be welcome to return whenever they liked.

As they rode the bus, Aunt Alma was excited to see everything and asked lots of questions, but after an hour she fell asleep. Katrina tried to listen to her radio, but for some reason it wasn't working right. Lots of scratchy noises interrupted some of her favorite songs. She finally turned it off and instead looked out the window to where the farmland had disappeared and in its place were houses, then bigger buildings,
and eventually the city. She nudged her aunt. “We're almost there.”

Aunt Alma opened her eyes and blinked. “Oh, my. What big houses the English have.”

Thanks to Bekka, they were met at the bus station by an Amish couple named Mr. and Mrs. Zook. The Zooks belonged to a district where they were allowed to drive cars as well as have electricity in their homes. Bekka had explained that the Zooks ran an Amish guesthouse where even the English were welcome. It was where Bekka's family had stayed last spring.

“Thank you for fetching us,” Katrina told them as she and Aunt Alma got into the back of the car.

“I never knew there were Amish who drove cars,” Aunt Alma said in wonder. “Not where we live.”

“Our district interprets the Ordnung differently,” Mr. Zook said as he drove. “Instead of worrying so much about outward things—like should our pants have pockets or not, or should our suspenders have two straps or one—we try to be mindful of our hearts.”

“Ja,”
Aunt Alma said happily. “I like that.”

“But you dress Amish,” Katrina pointed out.

“We do,” Mrs. Zook said, “because we are used to it and it is comfortable to us. But if we wanted, we could wear different clothes. Oh, not too different. But I can wear a cardigan sweater if I wish.”

“We believe that Jesus isn't as concerned about what you wear as he is concerned about what you think . . . and do.”

“Ja,”
Aunt Alma agreed. “I think so too.”

The guesthouse was, for the most part, simple and plain like Katrina's house, except that it had electric lights and the
kitchen had an electric stove as well as a small television set, which remained off while they were there. Other than that, there seemed to be little difference. The Zooks made her and Aunt Alma feel at home. The conversation was interesting—and spiritually stimulating. Aunt Alma continued to talk of the Zooks and their liberal Ordnung as she and Katrina rode a shuttle bus to the airport. “If Aunt Fannie refuses to let me come home after Hollywood, I will go live in the Zooks' settlement,” she declared.

Katrina forced a laugh. “Then so will I.”

The airport was a big, busy place, but thanks to Mr. Zook's advice, they got there with plenty of time to ask questions and figure things out. And although Aunt Alma's ticket was for an earlier flight, the woman at the counter fixed it so she could fly with Katrina instead.

“Everyone is so helpful and kind,” Katrina said after they finished going through what was called “security,” taking off their shawls and shoes and putting everything through a funny little tunnel. After that it seemed like they walked a long way. “Maybe we are walking to Hollywood?” Aunt Alma said after a while. Eventually, they found their “gate,” which was not really a gate but a place to sit and wait.

“Are you scared?” Katrina asked Aunt Alma as they sat looking out the windows at the giant planes that were coming and going.

“Ja.”
She nodded grimly. “Being up in the sky . . . I hope we don't fall.”

“Ja.”
Katrina twisted the handle of her bag in her hands. “Me too.”

“I know what we'll do,” Aunt Alma said suddenly. “We will pray.”

“
Ja
, that's a good plan.”

Sitting there at the gate that was not really a gate, they bowed their heads and prayed silently, as they always did. But then Aunt Alma did what Mr. Zook had done last night before supper—she prayed out loud. “Dear God, you are our Father. We are your children. I know you do not want us to fall out of the sky. I ask that you keep your big strong hands beneath the belly of the airplane, and you keep us safe up there until it is time to come down again. Amen.”

“Amen,” Katrina whispered. She smiled at her aunt. “Thank you.”

“
Ja
. I think it was all right to pray like that . . . this time.”

Aunt Alma's prayer worked, and their plane did not fall out of the sky. It landed on time in Hollywood, and to Katrina's surprise, Brandy and a cameraman were waiting for them when they went to pick up their baggage—which wasn't really baggage but a big box that Aunt Alma had packed full of food from home. They hadn't known it would be an extra twenty dollars to bring it, but what could they do—leave the food behind?

“Welcome to California,” Brandy said as they started walking toward the exit. “Did you have a good trip?”

“
Ja
, it was good,” Aunt Alma told her. “We did not fall from the sky.”

Brandy laughed, and Katrina introduced her to her aunt. “I hope it's all right she came with me.”

Brandy frowned. “You already have a roommate, Katrina.”

“I can sleep on the floor,” Aunt Alma said quickly.

“Or in the bed with me,” Katrina said, “if it's big enough.”

“I can sleep on the floor,” Aunt Alma said again.

“No, no, we won't make you sleep on the floor,” Brandy assured her. “We can get you a rollaway if necessary.”

“Roll away?” Aunt Alma frowned.

“Never mind.” Brandy nodded to the cameraman. “You are getting this, aren't you?”

“We're hot,” he called back.

“Hot?” Aunt Alma looked around. “It feels comfortable to me.”

“So, Katrina, have you been practicing your songs?” Brandy asked.

“
Ja
. I sing to the radio whenever I can. Except that now it's not working.” She shook her head as she dug in her bag for the radio. “I changed the battery, but all I hear is scratchy noises and screeches. No music. I hope it's not broken. It belonged to my grandmother.”

“Did you adjust the dial?”

Katrina pulled out the radio.

“Wow, that's a real oldie.” Brandy examined the radio. “It's probably a collectable.” She tried to turn one of the dials. “It's stuck,” she said.

“
Ja
, I know.”

“It looks like someone glued it stuck.” Brandy handed it back to her.

“My grandmother, maybe.” Katrina slipped it back into her bag.

“Speaking of your grandmother, Jack tells us that he's set up a meeting with a good friend of your grandmother's. Is that right?”

“
Ja
, that's right,” Aunt Alma declared.

Katrina tried to shoot her a warning look, but it was too late. Aunt Alma was telling Brandy—and the cameraman—
about how they wanted to find out all they could about Starla Knight. “We didn't know her name was Knight—that was before she married Daed and became Mrs. Yoder—but she was Mamm to me.”

“So Starla Knight was your stepmother?”

“
Ja
. But I called her Mamm,” Aunt Alma told her.

“Mamm means mother?” Brandy asked.

“
Ja
. She was my mother.”

“Did she sing a lot when you were a child?”

“No.” Aunt Alma firmly shook her head. “Hardly ever. She kept that part of her life hidden away. It was only when she passed—last spring—that Katrina and I began to figure out her story. But Katrina, she has her mammi's gift of song.”

“You think of it as a gift?”

“Oh,
ja
, it is a gift. A good gift.”

Brandy looked at Katrina now. “Your aunt is a talkative one.”

“Ja.”

“Tell us how it feels to be here.”

Katrina looked out to where cars and buses and taxis were coming and going, and she sighed. “Hollywood looks a lot like Cleveland.”

Brandy laughed. “Well, this isn't Hollywood. This is LAX. But I think you'll discover that California is a beautiful place. And Hollywood—well, you'll see.” She pointed to a long, black car pulling up in front of them. “Your limousine.”

“Such a big car just for us?” Katrina was puzzled.

“Make sure you get some good shots of her going in,” Brandy called. So Katrina had to take her time and say some things before they got inside the roomy vehicle. “This is like a small hotel room,” Katrina said as she looked around to
see a mini refrigerator and television. “I think a person could live in here.”