Missing Your Smile (22 page)

Susan forced herself to move.

Robby met her halfway to the desks. “Calm down,” he said. “This is not the jail house. You can do this! Concentrate and work on your questions. I'll wait for you over there,” he said, pointing.

She glared at him but then settled down to take the test. She read the multiple-choice questions. They seemed easy enough, most of them following the material she'd studied in the apartment. She began filling in the circles by her answers. When she was done, she handed the paper in and found a seat by Robby.

“What happens next?” she whispered to Robby.

“I don't remember,” he whispered back. “It's been a long time. But I think they do an eye exam and take your picture.”

“My picture?” Susan gasped.

“Yes. How else can they make sure your driver's license belongs to you?”

“I know that. It's just, well…I've never had my picture taken before. It's a great evil back home!”

“Really?” He was staring at her. “You're joking, of course?”

“No, I'm not. You sure don't know much about the Amish.”

Robby was incredulous. “Taking a picture is a sin? Wow! No wonder I'm a sinner. I was born with a camera flashing in my eye. Mom couldn't stop taking pictures when I was a baby.”

“It's not really a sin,” she said.

“I am so relieved!” he said in mock relief, sliding deeper into his chair. “I hope they hurry. I'm getting hungry.”

It isn't a sin, is it? People get their pictures taken all the time in the
Englisha
world
. Susan's mind raced.
I'm really stepping into the
Englisha
world now. I need to get over these guilt feelings
.

Robbie reached over and rattled her chair. “Your number is up on the board!” he said.

Susan jumped up and walked to the counter. The lady looked her over before smiling. Susan wondered if it was just her imagination or did the lady know she was dealing with another ignorant girl getting her license after crawling off the farm?

“Step over here,” the lady directed, still smiling. She motioned toward a chair with a long, white machine standing in front of it. There was a camera perched on a tripod…like a glass eye staring at her.

Susan hoped no one could hear her heart pounding. She was surprised when the woman stopped at a different machine.

The clerk motioned for her to look into this machine. When she placed her eyes on the peepholes she saw various sizes and shapes of letters inside. The woman asked Susan to read off what she was seeing, altering the formations inside the box after each answer.

“All done. No problems at all,” the woman said moments later. “Stand over here, and we'll take your picture.”

Susan stood in front of the machine with the glassy eye. She wanted to close her eyes so she wouldn't have to look, but the woman wasn't likely to take her picture with her eyes closed.

The woman adjusted the lens and a light flashed.

“Your learner's permit will be ready in a minute,” the clerk said. “You can go back to your seat for now.”

This is all there is to it?
Susan wondered.
Just a flash and my picture was taken?
She'd always figured picture taking involved a little more, considering how evil it was supposed to be.

“I'm hungry,” Robby repeated when Susan sat down. “I hope they hurry.”

Susan concentrated on calming herself, ignoring Robby. Boys were always hungry. At least her sisters always said so, and they had young boys to back up their opinion.

“What are the plans for this afternoon?” Robby asked, rattling her chair again.

“I need to shop at the mall,” she said without thinking.

“The mall!” Robby exclaimed. “I hope you don't expect me to help with shopping.”

Susan smiled. “Of course not. You can sit on the bench and count the people going by.”

He glared at her. “I think I'm taking you straight back to the bakery.”

“I think we both need food,” she said. “I'm feeling a bit weak, but at least I'm not
grouchy
.”

“I'm behaving quite nicely,” he said. “And if you'd stop saying nasty things about me, I'll tell you what I was about to suggest.”

Susan gave him a sweet smile.

“That's better,” he said.

“So what were you going to say?” she asked.

He waited, obviously teasing her before answering. “I was going to suggest that since you need practice driving, which I assume you've never done before, we could do that this afternoon.”

“Oh! You're being nice,” she said. “But I…really…I've…It's just that I've never driven before.”

“That's what I just said.”

“But your car. It's so big! And I could wreck it.” Susan felt the horror of the thought spreading over her face.

“I'm not going to let you wreck my car, believe me,” he said confidently.

“But
me
! Driving a car!” she protested, half rising from her chair. “I don't think I can.”

“Then why are you getting a learner's permit?”

“To drive a car.”

“See!” He threw up his hands. “Women make such perfect sense.”

“We always do,” she said. “It's just that you men don't understand us.”

He took a deep breath.

She laughed.

“Number 305, your permit is ready,” the clerk called from the counter. She held up a plastic card.

Susan stood and took tiny steps forward.

“Your permit! Congratulations! In three months you can take the driver exam if you're ready.”

“Thank you,” Susan said, turning to go.

She stopped by the chairs and studied the picture. It looked like the mirror did in the bathroom, only smaller. She looked a bit scared though, as if she had just committed a crime or something. Her pony tail had worked loose, and strands of hair hung around her face. Why hadn't she thought to get things tucked in first? But it was too late now.

Robby was on his feet, looking over her shoulder, laughing.

“You can smile,” he said, “It's not a criminal record. It's your passport to freedom!”

“Freedom?” she croaked.

“Driving around,” he said. “Your own wheels and all that. Being able to go where you want to go when you want to go!”

“I think I need food,” she said. “Right now before I pass out!”

“That's the best thing I've heard all morning,” Robby said, holding the door for her.

R
obby and Susan sat at a picnic table, the rolling hills of the park behind them. Robby had said he was starved, but he had insisted they bring their meal here to eat even though it took an extra half hour to get here. He sat across from Susan, serenely eating his sandwich.

“Eat slowly,” Susan said.

“I'm hungry.” He was staring off into the distance. “It's nice here. I like it.”

“I'm nervous and you're making me rush. Slow down.”

“Take all the time you want,” he said, finishing his last bite and standing up. “I'm going to look around.”

“Don't forget I still want some time to shop.”

“I'll teach you to drive in ten minutes,” he said without looking back over his shoulder.

Confident male
, Susan thought. How did he expect her to slide behind the wheel of a car and learn to drive in ten minutes?
Yah? In ten minutes?
Well, at least the park looked nice and open, with plenty of grassy lawns. If things went wrong, they could go bouncing off the blacktop and across the fields until the vehicle stopped. Perhaps that was what Robby planned. But there were also trees—lots of them in the distance. And trees weren't
gut
.

Positive thoughts
, Susan decided.
That's what I need. Things like happiness and thoughts of easy sailing down the road, the car wheels humming under me. Picture your hands safely guiding the automobile
, she told herself
. But there are ditches on both sides of the road, aren't there? Ditches had always looked perfectly harmless before. But now they are lying in wait, hoping I will crash so they can take me into their arms
. She shuddered.
What does it feel like when a car runs into a ditch? Awful
, she thought.
There's no doubt about that
. She shook her head. This was all Robby's doing—him and his inflated ego. Rushing her into driving before she had time to adjust to the thought.

“Come back here!” she hollered at him, shoving the rest of her sandwich into the bag. She couldn't get another bite down. “We're going to get this over with—like
right now
!”

“What's wrong?” he asked, not turning around. “This is beautiful. Come and look at the view.”

“I want to drive now!”

He turned slightly and cupped his hand over his ear. He shook his head.

Susan repeated the words and walked toward him.

“I heard you the first time!” he exclaimed when she walked up. “I just wanted you to see the view.”

“Really!” she said, forgetting to glare at him. She had to admit it was beautiful looking across the fields.

“Look!” He swept his hand outward. “Over there is where the reenactment of the Battle of Monmouth is performed every year. Soldiers dress up in period uniforms and march and shoot at each other. It's a glorious event.”

Susan looked across the open field in the direction Robby pointed. At least there were no trees there. But they probably don't allow cars to drive on the open fields.

“See over there? That's the Craig farmhouse,” Robby said, pointing. “It's dated from 1745 and fully restored. It's almost Amish looking, don't you think?”

It does look sort of Amish
, Susan thought.
But that isn't possible. The Amish don't shoot and march in wars
.

“Beyond those woods are the orchards,” Robby continued, “with apple, cherry, peaches, and nectarines. We can stop and see if anything is still in season. That is, after you've learned how to drive.”

“Maybe we should start then,” Susan said. “We don't have all afternoon.”

“Well, maybe we should,” he agreed. “This will be as easy as stitching.”

“Let's just get it over with, okay?”

“You sound like you're going to the dentist.” He made a buzzing sound between his teeth.

“Worse!” she said. “But you've never been Amish.”

“I guess there are advantages to my world.” He smiled, leading her back to the car.

“What do I do?” she asked, standing by the hood.

“Get in,” he said, opening the driver's door.

Susan slid in, feeling the cold touch of the steering wheel under her hand. She tried to get comfortable.

“Don't do anything yet,” he said, walking around to the other side to get in. “Okay, first your seat belt,” he said, snapping his into place.

“
Yah
, that much I know,” she said.

“The rest is just as easy,” he said.

“That's because you already know how to drive.”

He ignored the comment. “First thing, the pedal on your left is the brake. That makes the car stop. The one on the right is the gas or the accelerator. Now you name them, and step hard on the pedals while you do.”

“Brake. Gas. Brake. Gas.” Susan moved her foot back and forth.

“Faster!” he said.

“Brake. Gas. Brake. Gas.” She repeated the words, moving her foot as fast as she could.

“Okay. That's enough. Hit the brakes hard!”

Susan did, pressing until her foot hurt.

“Easy does it. Don't break the pedal.”