Missing Your Smile (23 page)

“Now what?” she asked, lifting her foot and catching her breath.

“Press on the brake pedal again and turn the key.”

Susan pressed the pedal down hard and turned the key. The rumble of the engine made her jump. She jerked her hand away from the steering wheel.

“That was good,” he said. “You didn't hold the key too long. If you do, that will grind the ignition.”

“I didn't know that,” she said.

At the moment, grinding the side of the car against a tree seems a more likely occurrence
, she thought
. What if Thomas could see me now?
Susan shuddered at the thought.
He wouldn't like it, and he'd probably pray that I would repent of my sins
.

Robby continued. “Now, leave your foot on the brake as you're preparing to go. Always remember—if you panic or if there's any trouble, go for the brake. Think brake. ‘Brake. Brake. Stomp. Stomp. Stomp.'”

“Okay, now what?” Susan asked.

“Release the emergency brake. That's this,” he said as he demonstrated. “Then move the gearshift—that's this one—from ‘P' for ‘park' to ‘D' for ‘drive'.”

“What will happen then?”

“You will drive…once you let off the brakes.”

“Okay.” Susan forced herself to breathe again.

“Slowly now, slowly,” he said, his voice tense.

“I thought you said this was easy.”

“It is easy. Now let out on the brakes, but stomp on it if you panic.”

The car moved forward a few inches and increased speed.
I'm driving! Me, the Amish girl Susan Hostetler, is actually driving! The world is moving slowly past the window
.

“Turn left here,” Robby hollered. “And there's someone coming. Brake! Brake!”

“I'm turning,” she said, not slowing down as the car went by.

“Stop sign. Brake. Brake!”

She stomped hard and the tires squealed.

“Sorry.”

“That's better than running a stop sign,” he said. “Now turn left.”

She went left, and then left again, rounding the circle a few times, stopping at the stop sign each time. Susan felt her breathing become easier.

“It is easy,” she said out loud.

“You're learning. Remember that,” he said. “Don't be too confident. Let's turn right at the stop sign this time.”

Susan turned, following the blacktop. The trees were closer by the road here, but she could do trees now. One simply had to stay on the road.

“There's a hill coming up,” he said. “Remember the brake.”

The car was going by itself, and she let it. This was fun! The blacktop hummed under the tires. This must be what it felt like to be a real
Englisha
person sitting behind the wheel of a car.

“Slow down. Brake. Brake.”

“This is fun!” she said.

“There's a turn coming up,” he warned.

Susan turned the wheel, the tires squealing as they angled around the corner.

“You're going to kill us,” Robby shouted. “Stop right now! There's someone coming again.”

“
Yah
.” She stomped for the brake. They
were
going a little fast. She gasped as the car shot forward in a burst of speed instead of stopping.

“You're on the gas,” Robby screamed. “
Brake! Now!
”

The car in the other lane was getting closer. Where is the brake?
She stomped again. Robby's hands went flying against the dashboard. Her seat belt bit into her neck, and the tires squealed loudly.

“Heaven have mercy on us!” Robby said as the car settled and Susan shifted the gear into park. “This woman is going to kill me for sure.”

Susan put her head on the steering wheel, shaking with laughter. “You were so right! This is fun!”

“You are insane, woman! Get out of the car this instant!”

“No, I won't. I'm just getting the hang of this.”

“I can't take this anymore,” he said, looking pale.

She pulled the lever down to “D,” took her foot off the brake, and pressed the gas. The car jerked forward.

“She is going to kill me!” Robby muttered. “And I am my mother's only son.”

“What do I do next?” she asked, jerking to another stop at an intersection.

“Get out of the car and let me drive.”

“Come on, Robby
. This was your idea!”

He sighed. “Okay. You need to use your turn signals. They're on the left-hand side. Pull down for left and push up for right. Practice it a few times.”

Susan kept her foot on the brake. “Up goes right, down goes left,” she said, pushing and pulling, listening to the sound of the clicks.

“Stop it,” he said. “I can't bear the sound anymore. Just use them from now on when you turn.”

“You're a good teacher.” She turned to smile at him. He looked pale.

“Don't look at me,” he said. “Your eyes are measuring me for my coffin.”

Her shoulders shook with laughter, but her hands stayed on the wheel.

He glared at her.

“If Thomas could see me now!” she said. “Wouldn't that teach him a
gut
lesson!”

“So now we have the ghosts of old boyfriends haunting us?”

“Don't worry. He doesn't bite. He's a pacifist ghost.”

“Does he know how to drive?” Robby asked.

“Of course he doesn't. Now, where do I go?”

“Around and around the merry old bush, I guess. How long do I have to endure this?”

“We've got all afternoon!” She gave him a sweet smile, accelerating with a jerk.

He lay his head back on the headrest, waving his arm. “Just go.”

“No more instructions then?”

“You can practice what I've told you. You need
lots
of practice. Just stay here in the park area. You're not ready for city streets.”

“Okay,” she said reluctantly.

A minute later, they passed the picnic table. Her sandwich bag was still lying there.

“Remind me to stop next time.” She motioned toward the table and the car weaved.

“Someone else will take it to the trash,” he said. “Just keep me alive. I'm too weak to walk. Just keep going. Blinking. Turning. Stomping.”

On the third pass, Susan pulled over and the car bounced off the curb.

Robby smiled hopefully. “Does this mean you're surrendering the wheel?”

“The bag,” she said. “It needs to go into the trash can.”

“Oh, the bag.” He got out and headed toward the picnic table. He picked up the bag and walked to the trash. Hesitating after he dropped it in, he came back to the car, opened the door, slid in, and buckled the seat belt.

“Thanks,” she said. “I'm ready to go to the mall now.”

“To the mall. Thank God! I'm going to live after all.” He undid his seat belt and opened his door.

“No, no!” she said. “I'm driving. I need the practice.”

“You are not,” he said, not moving. “It's four lanes on the way to the mall.”

“Well, I guess that would be a bit much,” she agreed. “But up till then.”

“Oh, no!” he moaned, snapping his seat belt back on. “I can't believe I'm doing this.”

As they pulled out of the park, Susan turned onto the main road, the back wheel bouncing over the curb.

Robby moaned again as Susan accelerated and clutched the wheel. The cars seemed to be going much faster than they usually were. One driver honked his horn at her.

“They're going so fast,” she said, looking sideways at Robby. He was looking straight ahead, not moving.

“They're not moving any faster. It's you,” he said moments later. “But you can stop anytime.”

“Tell me what to do,” she hollered as another car horn blasted.

“The light ahead,” he whispered. “It's yellow. Slow down gently, but don't hit the guy in front of you. Easy on the brake now.”

They came to a stop, and Susan let go of the steering wheel, wiping the sweat off her palms.

“You'd better do this,” she said. “Can we change drivers now?”

He shook his head. “Not here. It's not safe. But keep going once the light turns green.”

“It is green,” she said, pushing the gas pedal only a touch. The car still jerked forward.

Robby groaned. “Keep going,” he said. “And turn on your right turn signal to get in the slower lane.”

She flinched at the clicking sound and looked back to see the traffic behind her.

“You can get over now,” Robby said. “There's no one there.”

Susan turned the wheel and the car eased over into the curbside lane.

“Now what?” she asked.

“In there,” he said. “Turn into this car lot.”

She turned and they bounced to a stop. Robby had his hands braced on the dashboard.

“Thank You, Lord,” he said, not moving for a long time. “We're safe! The woman's actually got me praying.”

“That's
gut
!” She tried to laugh.

“Just let me behind the wheel,” Robby said, getting out. “I declare I will never teach an Amish woman to drive again. Never in all my life.”

C
ars in the four lanes drifted past as Robby drove silently back toward Asbury Park.

“Is something wrong?” Susan asked.

“No.” He didn't look up. “Nothing at all. But my whole life keeps floating in front of my eyes.”

“Was it that bad?” she asked between giggles.

“You have a really nasty side, you know that?” he said.

“Hey, you just passed the exit for the mall,” she said, not answering his comment. He could think of her however he wanted. It had been his idea to teach her to drive.

“So?” he said, not looking at her.

“I wanted to stop in, remember?”

“I remember, but we're not stopping in.”

“So you're that mad?” she asked. “You know that's a little childish.”

“I'm not mad,” he said. “I'm just frazzled to the bone, my nerves are shot, and my blood is still frozen from fright. And you did it on purpose.” He glared at her. “You took all your frustrations out on me.”

“Maybe I did,” she said, “but it was fun.”

“Is that like ‘Amish fun'?”

“I guess it is,” she said. “I hadn't thought about that. Still, that's no reason not to take me to the mall.”

“I've had my adventure for the day.”

“So you expect your mom to take me?”

“I'm sure she will,” he said.

“I can't ask her,” Susan said. “She's already done so much for me.”

“Then I'll ask her,” he said.

Susan considered. Maybe he was right. This late in the day, Laura wouldn't mind if Robby watched the bakery.

Finally Robby relaxed. “See? This is how you drive.” He had sped up and was now moving deftly in and out of the lanes.

“Are you trying to get even?” she asked, hanging on to the shoulder harness of the seat belt.

He grinned, showing all his teeth.

She turned in her seat. “I guess I should tell you there's a police car with flashing lights behind you.”

Robby mashed on the brakes and swerved into the slow lane, eyeing the rearview mirror.

“I don't see anything,” he said quickly looking into the rearview mirror, his voice shaking.

“I was stretching the truth,” Susan said with a grin. “But it did get you to slow down.”