A Simple Song (23 page)

Breezy's brows drew together as if she was really thinking about this. “I don't know. When you put it like that, I'm not so sure. But you signed on for this contest, Katrina. It seems like you owe it something.”

“I know.” Katrina sat back down and sighed. “That's what troubles me.”

“Why can't you continue to compete without compromising yourself? You can have the stylists help you to find evening gowns like that blue number you wore—”

“With no back?”

“They can make them with backs. And you could wear flat shoes if you want and keep the makeup toned down. Be conservative if it makes you feel better, but at least you'd be fitting in more. And you'd have a chance to win.” Breezy got up and started pacing. “Voters expect us to look and act like stars, and that takes a little effort on—” She stopped and smacked herself on the forehead. “I can't believe I'm telling you these things. If I was smart, I'd keep my big mouth shut and just let you go out there in your little apron and bonnet.”

She turned to look at her. “But I really like you, Katrina. And I hate seeing you selling yourself short all the time, acting like you're not worthy or like you should go stand in the corner with your head hanging down. You know, I'm not the best Christian—you can certainly attest to that—but I do know this: Jesus said we should be like lights on a hill. You don't put a lantern under a bushel basket. We are supposed to let our light shine before men so that they can see God. And when you perform, it feels like that to me—like you're being a light that points me to God. And others see that too, I'm sure. What is wrong with that?”

“I don't know. Maybe nothing is wrong with it. When I hear you say it like that, it almost makes sense. Yet at the same time it goes against what I've been taught. Amish are different from English. That is how it is. We do not want to look like or act like English. Our ways set us apart, and
that is how we like it—being set apart . . . to serve God.” She bit her lip.

“I guess I don't understand Amish.”

“And I don't understand English.”

“So, as my dad likes to say, we can agree to disagree.”

“
Ja
. I guess so.”

“I know you'll do what's right for you,” Breezy told her. “And knowing you, it will probably work out just fine. Even if you went out there wearing the same dress and apron each day, you could probably still win this thing.”

Katrina stood now. “I should probably go. You might need to practice or something.”

“Before you go, I want to tell you how much I've appreciated your help. I'm not sure I said that before. But I honestly don't think I would've made it this far without you, Katrina. It's not just that, though. Being around you has made me want to get closer to God again too.” She smiled. “You've been good for me.”

Katrina hugged her again. “You've been good for me too.”

“Good luck tomorrow.”

“You too.”

Katrina thought long and hard about what Breezy had said about being a light on a hill. Katrina had heard that Scripture before in church, but she had always believed that God's light shone through her best when she was serving others in humility and love. She still believed it now. However, if her singing had shone any of God's light onto the TV viewers, she was thankful. Just the same, she decided to wear her own clothes for the remainder of the competition. If the viewers wearied of seeing her in either her green dress or her blue dress, so be it.

For her first solo in the top eight competition, Katrina sang “The Wayfaring Stranger.” The lyrics seemed to perfectly reflect how she was feeling at this stage of the competition—as if she too was on a long, hard journey. When she reached the line about going home to see her father, she had tears streaming down her cheeks, and yet she continued to sing—with all her heart, she continued to sing.

“Katrina, Katrina,” Ricky began. “You broke my heart with that song, girl. That was so beautiful. I didn't even mind that you wore your little Amish dress again. It seemed
to work for you. Really great choice of a song. And you sang with real heart.”

“Nicely done,” Celeste told her. “But I don't agree with Ricky on your wardrobe choice. I mean, I get that you're Amish, honey, and you don't go for those sleazy, revealing dresses, but you could've picked something more fashionable—more like a real star would wear. You sang beautifully. But I hope you can show up looking more like an American Star next time—if there is a next time. I hope there is.”

“That was my favorite performance of the night,” Jack told her. “But then I love that song. Even so, not everyone can pull it off. And you did that.” He cleared his throat. “As for the Amish outfit, I'm siding with Celeste. This show is called
American Star
, Katrina. If you want to be a star, you have to make some sacrifices.”

She just nodded and politely thanked them before she exited the stage—secretly hoping that the fans would react like Celeste and Jack . . . and not vote for her.

As it turned out, the voters continued to support her. The next evening she learned that she had made it into the top six, along with Tyler and Breezy. Her only consolation was to learn that she'd received fewer votes this week than last week. But she was still one of the top three vote-getters that week.

“The voters are sending you a message,” Celeste told her. “They want to see you looking like a star, Katrina. Do you really plan to keep letting them down?”

The audience seemed quieter than usual now, as if everyone was waiting expectantly, as if they were hoping that Katrina would agree to play this game according to the English rules. All three of the judges watched her closely, waiting for her response.

“I do not like letting anyone down.” Katrina let out a long sigh. “But I also cannot let myself down—and I cannot let God down. I have made a commitment, and I will not compromise. I love God with all my heart and my soul and my strength and my mind. I choose to honor God with how I live my life—whether it's my words or my thoughts or my clothing. If that displeases the voters, they can choose someone else to be their next American Star. I am honored that they voted for me at all.” Then she thanked the judges and hurried from the stage.

Fortunately, some outside performers were singing for this show, so following the elimination and her short speech, Katrina only had to sit in the audience and pretend to enjoy the music. Soon, though, with all the pounding and shouting from this rock band, her head hurt so badly that she went backstage to use the restroom. She wanted to remain there until the music stopped, but it would be a very long night. Finally, it quieted down a little, and she emerged from the restroom.

“Katrina.” Tyler came over to her with a look of concern. “Are you okay?”

She touched her head. “The music . . . I think it gave me a headache.”

He smiled. “Heavy metal does that to me too.”

She peered at him. “Are you all right?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, sure, why wouldn't I be?”

She put a hand on his shoulder. “Because I hurt you?”

His expression turned sad. “Well, I guess you might've broken my heart . . . just a little.” Now his lips curled up just barely. “But I'm a tough guy. I'm getting over it.”

She smiled. “You are a great guy, Tyler. Some English girl will be very, very blessed to get you.”

His smile grew wider. “They're already lining up. Even if I don't win
American Star
, the ladies are way more interested now than they ever were before.”

They talked a while longer, and Katrina felt relieved to know that he was not nearly as hurt as she'd imagined. Probably not nearly as hurt as she'd been when Cooper parted ways with her. But that was something she tried not to think about. One of so many painful things that she pushed into the corners of her mind.

The next morning, she called Bekka as usual, and instead of complaining like she wanted to, she asked about her father. She knew he'd had his surgery yesterday, but Bekka hadn't known how it had gone the last time they talked.

“Cal said the surgery went good,” Bekka told her. “He and Sadie came over here last night to watch you making the final six. Congratulations!”

“Thank you. But Daed—how
is
he?”

“Cal said your daed was up and walking around by the end of the day. That's how good he was feeling, Katrina. Can you believe it?”

“
Ja
, I do believe it. It's what I've prayed for.”

“Cal said your parents haven't mentioned a word about the money for the hospital bill.”

“So they don't know where it came from.”

“Maybe not.” Bekka sighed loudly. “But I think they should know, Katrina. You deserve to be thanked for what you've done.”

“I don't want thanks. I just want Daed to be well.”

“You sound sad, Katrina.”

“I am glad about Daed.”

“
Ja
, I know. But you sound sad. And you sounded sad last night when you said that about not compromising your faith.”

“I wasn't sad about that,” she explained. “But I suppose I am weary. I want this to be over.”

“But you could win even more money.”

“I would give it all away. I just want to be done.”

“Well, you got fewer votes,” Bekka pointed out. “Maybe your time to be sent home is coming.”

“
Ja
. Maybe next time.”

Bekka laughed. “You are the only one who would be happy to be sent home.”

“But I have promised to do my best. I will do that.” She asked Bekka if she had any suggestions for her next song.

“‘Amazing Grace,'” Bekka said.

Suddenly Katrina remembered the song they'd sung at Mammi's funeral. “
Ja
. That's a good idea. It was Mammi's favorite song.”

“When is the next competition?”

“Tomorrow. Then the elimination is on Sunday.”

“I can't wait to hear you sing ‘Amazing Grace.' It's going to be good.”

Despite the judges' warnings, Katrina wore her traditional Amish dress, although she did wear her Sunday apron. She wasn't even sure why. Maybe it was simply because she was singing Mammi's favorite hymn. Before her turn to sing, she took a moment to tell the audience that she was dedicating this song to her grandmother. “Mammi got lost for a while in the English world,” she explained, “but she found her way back home, and I think that she understood God's grace in a very personal way.”

Then she sang, giving it her all. But before she could finish, she broke down in tears, and unable to sing one more word,
she fled from the stage. Tyler and Breezy, who'd both already sung, quickly joined her backstage, hugging her and trying to comfort her, but Katrina could not stop crying. It was as if something inside of her had broken and all of her insides were spilling out all over the place.

“This is too much,” Breezy said as Katrina quietly sobbed.

“It's killing her,” Tyler said. “She's not made for this kind of pressure.”

“Maybe the voters will figure this out,” Breezy told him.

“I'm sorry.” Katrina stood up straight, using her hands to wipe her face. “I don't know what came over—” Her voice cracked. “I just don't know.”

“I know,” Tyler told her. “You've reached your end. They should just let you go home.”

“I
want
to go home,” she told him. “But I promised to do my best and to stay till the end . . . till the voters send me home.”

“You've kept your promise,” Breezy said.

Soon it was time for the final six to go back out to remind voters to call or email their votes. But when Katrina's turn came, before she could say anything, Tyler stepped out. “I might get in trouble for saying this,” he told Bruce, “but I want to tell the voters not to vote for Katrina.”

The auditorium grew very quiet, and Bruce looked shocked. “Are you serious? We've never had a situation like this before. A contestant asking voters not to vote for another contestant?”

Tyler glanced at Katrina, then continued. “She is burnt out on this,” he told the audience. “You guys saw her fall apart on stage. And she fell apart even worse backstage. I know she won't ask you herself, because she wants to honor the
show, but I'm going to ask you. If you care about this girl, don't vote for her. Let her go home.”

Katrina was crying hard again.

“Is that what you want?” Bruce asked her.

She just nodded.

“Let Katrina go home.” Breezy stepped up to Bruce now. “I'm not saying this because I want to win. I know Katrina sings better than I do. But I love her. She helped me when I was down, and she's down now. She's hurting. You've all seen her doing her best, and she's given up everything to be in this competition. She finally got enough prize money to help her family, and her dad has been through his surgery—and she wants to go home. Even though she's worried her family won't want her back. And I can tell you this.” She glanced at Katrina now. “If Katrina wins this thing, if she becomes the next American Star, her family probably won't welcome her back. So if you care about our sweet Amish angel, don't vote for her tonight. Just let her go home.”

Katrina wasn't sure what to expect the next evening. Would Tyler and Breezy's plea to let her go home work? Would the voters choose freedom for Katrina, or would they force her to continue singing to them like the bird in a gilded cage? She had heard someone on Breezy's TV saying that this morning. They were comparing Katrina to a caged bird. It was painful to even think about.

To her relief—and the producers' disappointment—Katrina did not receive enough votes to remain on the show.

“You know what that means,” Bruce Betner said sadly. “Come on up here, Katrina Yoder. It's time to sing your farewell song to us. I know that a lot of fans are heartbroken to
see you go. But it seems your time has come. We're going to miss our Amish angel.”

Katrina moved to the center of the stage, taking the microphone Bruce held out to her. “Thank you,” she told him. “It's been an amazing experience.”

“What are you going to sing for us?” he asked.

The final eight contestants had been told to always come to the elimination shows with a song prepared for their farewell song. She was relieved to finally be able to sing it. “I'm going to sing ‘A Simple Song of Freedom,'” she told Bruce, “by Tim Hardin.”

He laughed. “Well, that's apropos. You're getting your freedom, so why not sing a simple song about it?”

She put all she could into it. She knew it was an antiwar song, but it felt like a declaration of her freedom too. Not just freedom to leave this show, which had felt more and more like a prison, but her freedom to practice the religion of her choice—to express her commitment to being Amish. And when she was done—she was done!

Katrina could hardly believe it when days later, she was truly going home. She'd boarded a jet in Los Angeles yesterday, arriving in Cleveland last night, and this morning, just three days after being released from
American Star
, she was being driven by the Zooks to Millersburg.

“I don't know why you don't just let us take you all the way home,” Mr. Zook said as they reached the outskirts of the town. “We don't mind a bit.”

“I appreciate your kindness, but it's what I want,” she gently told him. “It's difficult enough that I've been away from home . . . doing what I've been doing. If I come home in an automobile, well, it will only make things worse.”

“She's right,” Mrs. Zook told him. “Let her go home with her brother. That will please her family.”

“Ja,”
Katrina agreed. “Besides, Cal would be disappointed if I didn't ride with him. Especially seeing how he had to get off work to come and fetch me.”

“Will you visit your daed in the Millersburg hospital?” Mrs. Zook asked.

“No. My friend Bekka told me he was allowed to leave the hospital yesterday afternoon. I will see him at home.”

“There is a buggy.” Mrs. Zook pointed to the dark gray buggy parked by the hardware store just like Bekka said it would be. It was the only one. “That must be your brother there. Nice-looking young man.”

As Mr. Zook parked, Katrina peered out the window to see Cal, but to her surprise it was not her brother. Even so, she thanked the Zooks for their kindness and generosity and told them goodbye. She grabbed her bag and got out of the car, hurrying over to the buggy. “Cooper!” she exclaimed.

Cooper's face broke into a big smile as he swooped her into his arms. Hugging her tightly, he lifted her up so that her feet left the ground. “Katrina! It is so good to see you!”