Missing Your Smile (12 page)

“No, there are no Amish matchmakers,” Susan replied.

Laura smiled. “Robby finally told me about your night out on the beach. He said you're good with a laugh, and that you both had a good time.”

“It was wonderful,” Susan admitted. “Robby's a lot of fun. Almost as
gut
as an Amish boy. In fact he seems kind of Amish. In some ways, at least.”

“I'm not sure he'd take that as a compliment,” Laura said, slowing down. “The purses I want you to look at are here in Penney's.”

The two women walked into the store, Laura leading the way to the purse racks. Susan looked but couldn't shake the feeling that her
mamm
was watching her. The very idea of carrying a purse in public made her throat tighten. The colors seemed gaudy to her, and the few she thought she might like had prices that shocked her. She could never afford one of these.

“Do you see anything you like?” Laura asked, running her hand over a dark leather offering, its outline trimmed in gold. “How about this one?”

Susan turned the sales tag over. “Laura, I certainly can't afford this.” Not that she would dare buy the purse if she could. Her instinct against such a fancy item was still strong, even though she knew these Amish hang-ups of hers would have to cease.

“This one's nice.” Laura lifted a white purse and turned it sideways. “White, but not too white.”

Susan studied the purse. It was less fancy than the others and white would be a
gut
choice. Black would have been better, but white was passable. She knew she needed to be
sure
of the choice so she wouldn't worry later, wondering if the purchase had been a sin or not. Finally she looked at Laura and said, “I'll take this one.”

“Are you sure? Some of these red-and-blue ones are a bit cheaper.” Laura turned the tags over for Susan to see.

“No, this is the one.” Susan's voice was firm. “It's white.” A clear conscience was worth a little extra money.

Taking the purse from the rack, Susan paid at the register, leaving the purse in the bag as they walked out into the rush of people again.

“You can start to use it,” Laura said. “It's purchased now.”

Susan shook her head. “I'll take it home first.”

Truth was, she needed a little more time to get used to this. Carrying the purse around in the bag might help.

“I need to go to the other end of the mall,” Laura said. “You can come along or you can check out one of the other stores. I have to come back this way. We can meet here, if you want.”

Susan scanned the store signs around her. Locking on one store's logo, she said, “I think I'll browse through that bookstore over there,” she said.

“Perfect,” Laura said. “Will you go anywhere else?”

“No, just the bookstore.”

“Okay. I'll meet you here in fifteen or twenty minutes.” Laura quickly moved away and blended into the crowd.

Susan watched until she had disappeared before walking toward the bookstore. She felt somewhat alone with Laura gone, but taking a deep breath, Susan entered the bookstore and perused the shelves. That there were so many books in the world amazed her. Books she had no idea existed.

One rack had a sign that said “
New York Times
Bestsellers.”
What are
New York Times
Bestsellers?
” she wondered. Susan picked up one of the books and read the back cover. It sounded good, so she opened the pages and read a few paragraphs. Quickly she blushed and stepped back. She replaced the book on the shelf. How did people write using such language, let alone
read
it?
Even married people didn't talk to each other with such words…did they? But how would I know?

Susan looked around to see if someone had seen her reading the book. No one seemed interested in her. Several people were reading from books on the shelves, so it must be okay. Susan took another deep breath and tried a different title.

She read a paragraph in the first chapter, scanned further, and then replaced the book. The storyline was too spooky, and how did anyone know about such things? The idea was completely unbelievable. Deacon Ray would stroke his beard and look really sober at the very idea. How could someone come back from the grave and watch his relatives live their lives?

This is discouraging and strange
, she thought.
Are there no
Englisha
books worth reading?
Her eye caught a display deeper into the store, and she caught her breath.
What? Amish people on the covers of books? Rather, they looked somewhat Amish. But how is this possible? No Amish person would stand still for such a picture—especially this close to their faces
.

Picking up a book, she paged through it, reading here and there. It wasn't that bad, the storyline following an Amish girl's travails with her boyfriend. Well, they should talk to
her
about travails with boyfriends. Now
that
would be a story. But no one would be interested in her life. Apparently though, the
Englisha
were interested in Amish life—but she sure wasn't. She had lived it.

Turning back to the
New York Times
Bestseller list books, Susan tried again. There had to be something here she could read. She took another book off the shelf. Flipping through the pages, she read here and there, laughed and continued reading. Now this was something a person could read. She read on, skimming through a chapter. It was interesting. Deacon Ray wouldn't like this either, but it was a
gut
storyline. A man traveling back and forth in time, ending up somewhere in a strange land without his clothing. Susan laughed again. She checked the price on the back of the cover. It was expensive, but she would buy it.

Susan walked to the register and paid for the book. This was something to read, at least.

“Sixteen dollars and fifteen cents,” the man said. Susan jumped. The price had been marked clearly, but it was still a lot of money when said right out loud like that.

Paying with a twenty, Susan placed the change into her pocket. Soon she would use a purse like the women did, but not tonight. Now, she might as well find a place to sit and read until Laura returned. Her search located a bench in the middle of the press of people, looking like an island in the middle of the sea. Surely Laura would be able to find her here.

She sat down and opened the book, beginning on the first page this time.

“Excuse me,” a man's voice said a few minutes later. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

“No.” Susan replied, not looking up. She continued to read.

He cleared his throat, and she looked at him. She stood up. “Mr. Moran! It's you.”

“Oh, so you do remember?” He smiled. “Do you still not mind if I sit down?”

“Of course. I mean, of course not. Why no…I don't,” she said, the words falling over each other.

Oh, please, where is Laura!
Her mind raced.
What am I supposed to say to this man? And what will people think when they see me talking with such a
gut
-looking
Englisha
man?

T
he crowd of people in the mall moved past Susan, ebbing and flowing like the waves of the ocean. Beside her sat Mr. Moran, the
Englisha
man. Susan couldn't help but be concerned about who might be watching. But this was not Amish country, and no one knew her. Susan took a deep breath and edged away from him. Hopefully he wouldn't notice the small movement.

“So,” Duane said, smiling, “I hear you're new to Asbury Park. Are you adjusting okay?”

“Okay,
yah
. Really
gut
,” Susan said. What a bumbling, mumbling mess she was making of this. Why had she ever thought an Amish girl could make a go of it in the
Englisha
world? At least Thomas had been one of her own people—an equal. This man was way up there in the world, almost too high for her to speak with.

“I guess I should have introduced myself better. I'm Duane Moran,” he said. “And I work in town at H&R Block.”

Susan nodded. “Laura told me.”

“Oh,” Duane said. “But I guess I'm not surprised. Did Laura tell you I called today?”

“She did.” Susan kept her eyes on her shopping bag.

“I know Laura from way back,” he said. “I'm not surprised she mentioned my call. I guess I should have spoken with you myself this morning. It seemed easier this way.”

“It doesn't matter,” she said.
Whatever that means
, she thought. Now she was having a hard time breathing with him so close and smelling of leathery cologne. The light scent hung in the air. Thomas wore cologne at times, but he never smelled like this.

“You come from Indiana, Laura said.”

“Out in the country.” Susan caught her breath. “We live close to Salem. That's our only nearby town. We go there for grocery shopping and some of the small things.”

“There's nothing wrong with living in the country,” he said. “I was raised in the city, but the country's great. I don't get out of town often enough to suit me.”

“Really?” she glanced at his face.

“Sure,” he said. “The country's where the hardworking people live. Do your folks still live in Indiana?”

Susan laughed. “Yes, and they always will, believe me.”

“Sort of have their roots down, then.”

“You could say so.”

He sure didn't know much about Amish people. They put down roots while still in their mothers' wombs. And woe to the man or woman who tried to pull them up.

“Salt of the earth types then, working hard all their lives.” He rubbed his hands together.

Did she dare ask him a question? Yes, she'd venture it. “Do you ever work outdoors?”

“Me?” he looked at her and chuckled.

She glanced away. “I just wondered, that's all. I know it's none of my business.”

“No, I'm afraid not. I do most of my work sitting at a desk.”

“Oh,” Susan looked at the floor this time.

“Do you like the book?” He motioned with his chin toward the book she had lain on the bench.

“So far it's a little strange but interesting. Expensive, that's for sure.”

He laughed. “Certainly not country prices at this mall.”

“No,” was all she could think to say.

After a silent pause, he stood up and said, “Well, I have to get going. It was good to run into you. I hope you enjoy the book. I certainly did. Tell Laura hello for me.”

“I will.” Susan stood.

He smiled and disappeared into the flow of the people. She caught a glimpse of him going past the bookstore before she sat down again. Laura would be back soon, and being caught staring after an
Englisha
man would have looked quite ridiculous.

Susan opened the book, but the words were a blur as her mind ran over the encounter again and again. How had she handled herself? He hadn't spoken to her as if she were a country hick. He said he liked the country, but that could mean anything. What had he thought of her? That was a horrible thing to even consider. She shouldn't be concerned about what an
Englisha
man thought of her.

Susan stood again and paced the floor in front of the bench. Thoughts of Duane kept running through her mind. What a clean face he had. He looked like he lived a healthy, wholesome life. Thomas had looked wholesome too, but what
gut
did that do?

“Oh!” Susan exclaimed and jumped when Laura appeared out of the crowd in front of her.

“Sorry it took so long.” Laura said, looking flustered. “But I see you found something to read.”

“
Yah
, I bought a book. And I think I'll like it.”

“Let's go then. It's going to be late enough by the time we get back.” Laura led the way toward the mall entrance.

Susan followed, trying to keep up. Laura seemed in a hurry, taking huge steps.
Shouldn't I say something about Duane
, Susan wondered
. If I don't now, it will be harder later
. But the words were sticking to her throat. “Mr. Moran stopped by for a few minutes while I was waiting for you. He said to say hi,” she finally got out.