Almost Amish (2 page)

Was it love for Susan or her own need to escape that made her answer yes? Even in the aftermath, Julie would never be completely certain.

“We’re going live in five, four, three, two, one.” As the countdown culminated, the audience did as they were instructed and began to clap wildly, as if this moment was the greatest in their lives. An overhead camera swooped forward, and two cameramen walked through the aisles, pausing at anyone who caught their interest.

“Welcome back, everyone.” Lisa Lee stood in the middle of the set, smiling and nodding her appreciation of the applause. The curls in her long black hair bounced with every move she made, framing her face with the same perkiness that permeated everything about her. “I’ve got some people I’d like for you all to meet, but first, there is exciting news to share.” She gestured toward a large video screen behind her. “Last year we did a three-month segment called
Going Almost Blue Blood.
Do y’all remember that? Did you enjoy it?” The audience went wild with their cheers as the video screens behind Lisa Lee lit up with snippets from last year showing a middle-class family being placed amid some of New York society’s elite destinations, hideaways, and social events.

The host nodded, her perfect smile welcoming and friendly as always. “We enjoyed doing that, so we thought we’d try again, but this time, we’re going to try something just a little different. Everyone on our staff, myself included, is always talking about how busy our lives are, how we don’t have time to do the things that are really important to us. Can anyone out there relate?” She held out both arms, hands upturned, gesturing toward her audience. Applause, vigorous head nods, and all-out whooping came from the mostly female audience.

“Well, here’s the deal.” Lisa took a seat on a high stool just in front of her cooktop. “We were trying to think of a series we could do on simplification, and how it might work. One of the hairstylists on the show is a big fan of Amish fiction—and she was talking one morning about how wonderful that lifestyle sounded to her. And it got me think-
ing
 . . .” She almost sang the last word, as she was known to do when excited about something. She looked toward the backstage and motioned with her hands. “Okay, y’all come on out here.”

Julie’s knees shook as she took each step onto the stage . . . onto national television. She’d been watching everything unfold on a monitor and now followed her sister-in-law out into the lights, taking her exact place on stage, just as she’d been instructed. Her kids came to stand in front of her, as they’d rehearsed, and she put a hand on each of their shoulders, per plan.

It was really happening.

Lisa Lee moved closer and put her hand on Susan’s shoulder. “This is Susan Reynolds. I’m sure you all remember her from the occasional cooking features she has done on my show, and this is her daughter, Angie. How old are you, Angie?”

“Seventeen.”

Lisa Lee then moved over to Julie. “This is Susan’s sister-in-law, Julie, and her daughter, Whitney, and son, Brian. And you two are how old?”

“Sixteen.” Whitney’s voice projected loud and strong, showing not a bit of fear.

“Thirteen.” Brian’s voice was barely audible.

Lisa continued. “We’re using some extended family for this scenario, because extended family is very important in the Amish culture.” She smiled again. “So we’re sending this lovely family to spend the summer in Tennessee, near an actual Amish community. They will live without cars, television, or even—can you imagine?—
cell phones
, for the entire time.” The audience began to “ooh” and “aah” over this. “They’re not completely roughing it. They’ll have a few modern conveniences
most
of the time, like air-conditioning and a refrigerator—and they will also have indoor bathrooms.” She held up a hand beside her mouth and pretended to be whispering a secret to her audience. “That one was their main condition before agreeing to do this.”

The studio audience laughed appreciatively. Lisa covered her mouth and giggled, in a display of cuteness that had made audiences around the world love her. “Each week they’ll have a different challenge—to accomplish a task or work through an issue that the Amish face on a daily basis. By the end of this season, we’ll just see if the Amish way of life is really all that simpler than our lives today, or whether it’s just complicated in a different way. What do you think?” She smiled broadly. “Who thinks this might be our best idea yet?”

The audience went wild with applause.

Julie thought she might throw up.

Julie sat numbly in the green room, her mind going over and over the last hour. She thought they’d done well enough, not that any of them had done anything but stand there and smile.

“Wow, look at all this hardware.” Whitney stood next to a shelf full of awards and plaques. “If the Lisa Lee show is really this good, how is it I’ve never even heard of it before?” She picked up a crystal trophy and turned it over in her hands. “This thing is heavy.”

“Whitney, put that down.” Susan, who had been pacing back and forth, rushed over. “The last thing we need is for you to break something.” Then, as if suddenly realizing she might have sounded too harsh, she offered a not-quite-believable smile. “And I’m guessing most girls your age don’t watch too many lifestyle shows. That’s why you’ve never heard of it.”

“I guess.” Whitney set the trophy back on the shelf and shrugged.

The door to the green room opened and Lisa Lee walked in, followed by one of her assistants—a pretty young blonde. Lisa hurried over to Susan, arms outstretched, and drew her into a hug. “Great job.” She looked around the room. “Great job, everyone. The audience was just eating you up. I think this is going to be our most interesting segment yet, don’t you, Jane?”

The blonde looked up from the clipboard in her hands. “I do.”

“Now, kids”—Lisa looked around—“how would you like a tour of the studio? I’m pretty sure Taylor Swift is making a guest appearance on the talk show filming next door. You want to go watch?”

“Yes!” Angie and Whitney hugged each other and jumped up and down.

“Sounds interesting.” Brian’s words were controlled and even, but Julie suspected that even he was considering joining the girls in their Snoopy dance.

“Great. We’ve got a little bit of behind-the-scenes interviewing to do with your mother and aunt. Jane is going to take you around the studio. It shouldn’t take us terribly long.”

“Don’t hurry on our account.” Whitney skipped her way to the door, before returning to grab her younger brother by the arm. “Hurry up. We’re going to see Taylor Swift.”

The kids all made a collective squealing sound as they disappeared out the door. Jane giggled and followed them out.

“All right.” Lisa’s dimples seemed to glow in her ever-smiling face. “Now that the kids are gone, I’ll take you to your next assignment, your first sit-down interview. Follow me.”

She led them down a long hall, stopping about halfway to open a door. Lisa tilted her head toward the small conference room inside. “Julie, this is your stop.”

“We’re not doing this together?” She looked toward Susan, silently begging her to do something.

“For now, you’ll be separate,” Lisa said quite casually. “Have a seat right here, and the producer will be in shortly. Would you like some coffee, water, anything?”

“No, thank you.”

The door shut with a click, but to Julie it sounded more like the clanging lock of a prison holding cell. She stared at the door, awaiting the arrival of the executioner. How many ways were there to say something stupid on national television? “Get a grip, Julie.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “Stop being so melodramatic. It will be fine.” Speaking the words aloud helped, if only a little.

The door opened and a tall man entered the room. His head was shaved smooth, and he wore an obviously expensive golf shirt and khaki pants on his wiry frame. Every step he took exuded a quiet confidence that most people would envy. “Hello. I’m Jim Waters, one of the producers.” He smiled in a relaxed, friendly way, and soon they were making small talk.

Julie was thankful that he’d decided to warm up without cameras or other people in the room. It did help relax her quite a bit. By the time they were ready to get down to business, perhaps she would be able to think straight.

“What do you hope to gain from your time on the farm?” he asked, shifting the conversation a bit. It was a question Julie had been asking herself all throughout the prior days.

“I’m here to help Susan. So I’m just hoping to avoid messing things up for her.” She tried to smile but was too nervous to completely pull it off.

“I know you’re here because of her. But surely, there must be something you are hoping to get from this experience?”

Julie thought for a moment. What did she hope to gain?

What she most hoped was to find a reason to believe that something about her life was worthwhile—or more correctly, a reason that she might want to return home when it was over.
Perhaps there’s more truth than necessary in that answer.
“I’m mostly looking forward to slowing down and enjoying my kids. Our lives are so fast-paced that we often do little more than pass each other on the way in or out.”

He nodded. “My wife says the same thing about our family. Especially with kids in sports.”

“Exactly.” Julie could feel the tension melting from her body. She was so thankful to have a producer who at least understood what she was saying.

“What do you most hope your sister-in-law will gain from this experience?”

“I’m hoping it will help launch her career to the next level. It means so much to her, and she really does deserve it.”

“That’s what we’re all hoping.” He smiled and nodded as he leaned forward on his elbows. “But I mean, other than that, what do you hope she learns from the experience?”

Julie thought about that one for a moment, then decided to stick with the safest, and most obvious, answer. “Well . . . I guess I’m hoping that she learns to relax a little.”

“Type A, huh?”

“Definitely.” Julie thought about the last couple of years. “Honestly, I don’t know how she does all that she does. She’s pretty amazing.”

“Why is it I feel like there’s a ‘but’ to that statement?” He grinned in a conspiratorial manner.

“She can be a bit uptight.” Julie supposed there was no reason to deny the obvious. “She pushes her daughter pretty hard, too.”

Jim laughed. “Gotcha. My sister is just like that.” He started a story about her that sounded exactly like Susan when the door opened. Julie looked up, expecting to see a film crew. Instead, she saw Susan and another woman. Thank goodness! They had decided to let them do this together, after all.

Jim offered his hand across the table. “It was really nice talking with you, Julie.”

“You too.” She shook his hand.

“Okay, ladies, now that we’re all done, we’ll see if we can find out where your kids are and get you caught up with them.” Jim started toward the door.

“But our interviews. Aren’t you going to film them?” Susan asked, taking the question right out of Julie’s mouth.

“Oh, they were filmed. There are several cameras in the conference rooms back here. Don’t worry, we got it all.”

Julie held her breath. She would never have been quite as free with her stories or frank with her answers if she’d had any idea she was being filmed. She looked toward Susan, wondering if she should apologize in advance or just hope that they cut a lot of what she’d said.

Then she saw Susan’s face. Her expression of horror left little doubt that apologies might be needed from both directions. Julie didn’t think she wanted to know what had been said in the other room. In fact, she was certain of it.

Susan spooned the balsamic reduction sauce over the pork chops, then created an arc of sauce around the edge of the plate for effect. The color of the julienne vegetables made the perfect complement to the plate, as did the hint of couscous peeking from beneath the chops. A couple sprigs of rosemary across the top added the final touch to the presentation. She took a deep breath, stomach churning, and carried the plates into the dining room.

“Wow, even for you, this looks amazing. You’ve really outdone yourself.” James sat in his usual chair, the soft glow of the candles washing his face in an amber light.

“I hope you enjoy it.” She set the plates on the table, knowing that she most certainly would not.

She pulled the knife slowly across the meat, gathering her thoughts, waiting for the perfect time. But how did one find the perfect moment for a conversation like this?

“Delicious.” James put the fork in his mouth, and suddenly Susan could bear the taste of unspoken words no longer.

“Who is she?”