Missing Your Smile (27 page)

“Please!” Teresa said, her voice seeming to come from far off.

“But you don't even know me!” Susan exclaimed, looking into Teresa's eyes. “And, Teresa, I came here to get away from my Amish community. I'm not really Amish anymore.”

The tears now running down Teresa's cheeks were shimmering rivers that caused Susan to grasp Teresa's hand even tighter.
Where is Laura?
she thought desperately.

“I want my child to have a chance in life,” Teresa was saying. “There are no chances around here. There is no hope in my life—nor will there be in his if he stays here.”

“But there is always hope,” Susan said. “We have to believe in God and do what's right. Even I have to move ahead with hope. Right now I'm working on my GED.”

Teresa shook her head. “You don't understand. You and me, we're not in the same world. The things you hope for are not the things I can hope for…here.”

“There must be some other way I can help you,” Susan said. “I'm a good listener. Would that help? I live in the apartment above the bakery. You could come by and we could talk. I can do that.” Even as she said it, Susan knew how lame such an offer must sound to Teresa.

“You're more than kind, ma'am, as I expected you would be. But it's my child I have to think about. I have to make plans for him
before
he comes. And it can't be that long now.”

“Have you seen a doctor?” Susan asked.

Teresa laughed. “I've been to the few doctor's visits the state helps out with. I don't have any money for a doctor myself. And my mom barely brings in enough food for us to eat. I lost my job at the gas station since I'm showing big now.”

Susan stroked Teresa's arm. What else could she say? The mountain this girl had to climb was certainly larger than any she had ever experienced.

“You will help me with the child then?” Teresa asked.

Hasn't the girl been listening?
“Are you talking about adoption?” Susan asked.

“Yes, adoption,” Teresa said. “I will sign any papers you want. I never need to see the child again. Whatever it takes I'll do, but he has to be in good hands.”

“Maybe Laura will know how to handle this,” Susan said.

Teresa shook her head.

Susan caught Laura's attention when the customer left and motioned with her eyes to come.

Laura moved toward them.

“Surely there are good-hearted people around here who want to adopt children,” Susan said.

“No.” Teresa leaned forward. “It has to be an Amish home. If you can't take him, perhaps you know someone who can from your community. I don't know any other Amish, so you are my only chance. They said on TV that the Amish are closed communities. Nobody can get in from the outside, but you're already in, ma'am. And the chance that I should meet you, right when I needed it the most—now that's a miracle from God. Didn't you say God works miracles?”

“Yes, He does!” Susan whispered.
But how am I supposed to take an
Englisha
child and expect an Amish couple to adopt him? And what about the government red tape and expense? And who among my family would want the child? None of my sisters had problems conceiving. All their children were considered blessings, but more would be too much
.

“Are the two of you having a nice chat?” Laura asked, laying her hand on the young woman's shoulder.

Teresa smiled and nodded.

“I need to talk to you, Laura.” Susan got up. “Will you wait here, Teresa?”

“Yes, ma'am,” Teresa said.

“So the girl's name is Teresa,” Laura said as they walked back to the office.

“Yes, and she's in a lot of trouble.” Susan closed the door behind them. “She wants someone to adopt her baby. Well, really, she asked if I or an Amish couple would take the child. Apparently she has a high opinion of Amish people and doesn't want the child to grow up to live like she does.”

“The poor girl,” Laura said. “At least she's making some good choices. Abortion would have been an easy option for her, I'm sure. The government goes out of its way to see to that.”

“So what do we do?” Susan asked. “It's too much for me alone, but we can't just send her back out on the street, can we?”

“No, we can't,” Laura agreed. “Do you think she'd be willing to visit the Crisis Pregnancy Center? I don't have close ties to the one run by the Catholic diocese, but our church supports it.”

“I don't know, but I'll ask. That sounds better than Teresa's idea. I mean, Indiana is a long way from here.”

“She'll need care either way,” Laura said. “Did she say whether she's had medical attention yet?”

“She's been to a doctor a few times. What the state supplies, she said.”

“That's at least something,” Laura said. “I guess you're getting to see the underside of Asbury Park. First, the murders and now this.”

“I'll ask her about the Crisis Pregnancy Center then,” Susan said. “I think I heard a customer come in.”

“This girl may be delusional,” Laura said as they walked back. “I'm not sure how seriously you should take what she says.”

“She's been in here before,” Susan said. “And she seemed to be looking for something then too.”

“Susan, I think it would be a good idea if you walked her home. See where she lives. Look into what the conditions are. Make friends with her, and we'll take it from there. Okay? She can't live far if she walked.”

“Go with her? Right now?” Susan asked.

“Yes, now.”

“There is the bell again,” Susan said. “What about the bakery? You'll be here by yourself and customers are coming in.”

“Sometimes life calls with greater duties, dear. The customers can form a line if they want to. I'm sure you can make it back before the lunch rush.”

“I'll hurry,” Susan said, opening the office door. Two people were waiting at the counter. Laura went out and greeted them immediately, while Susan slipped back to the table, this time sliding into the chair next to Teresa.

“Teresa, what you're asking isn't easy. There are a lot of things that must be done. And thinking of your baby's care is the first thing. Would you like me to come home with you right now? You can show me where you live. We can take you to a doctor later for a checkup. That's very important you know.”

“I can show you where I live,” Teresa said. “It's just across the tracks.”

“Don't you know the name of the street?” Susan asked.

Teresa didn't answer right away. Finally she said, “We're not really supposed to be living there, so we have to be careful.”

Susan stood. “We can talk more on the way.”

“I guess so,” Teresa said, sliding out from the table and getting to her feet.

Susan held the door open for her and guided her outside.

“This way,” Teresa said, motioning to the west.

They crossed at the stoplight, passing the diner where Duane had treated Susan to lunch. That seemed like another world at the moment.

Teresa held one hand on her stomach and hung on to Susan's arm with the other. “He just kicked real hard!” Teresa said with a big smile. “I think he likes you. That will help a lot, won't it! Make things much easier. I hope he remembers a little bit about me though. Do you think he will? Even when I give him away? He's still part of me, isn't he?”

“He's very much a part of you,” Susan agreed. “And perhaps you don't have to give him up. Perhaps we can talk with the father and persuade him to take care of the two of you.”

Teresa laughed. “If you take my baby boy to Amish country, that will be enough of a miracle for me.”

“How do you know the baby's a boy?” Susan asked. “You keep referring to him as ‘he'.”

“I'm his mother…duh,” Teresa said.

“I didn't know mothers could tell,” Susan said. “I've never had a child.”

“They might not all know, but I know it's a boy,” Teresa assured her. “If I'm wrong, I'll be really surprised.”

“I have eight married sisters with children. I wonder if they knew,” Susan said. “They never mentioned anything.”

They turned another corner, moving further away from the main streets of Asbury Park. They were approaching the railroad tracks.

“Eight sisters did you say? And all of them married?” Teresa asked.

“
Yah
,” Susan said. What did it matter if
yah
slipped out now? Teresa would like the touch of Amish.

“I knew you were a holy people,” Teresa said. “Just like I've seen on TV. I want my son to grow up like that. It's much better than how I'm living.”

“I'm sure God can make things right for you,” Susan said as they crossed the railroad tracks. The quality of the buildings ahead of them was decreasing compared to the buildings downtown.

“God is taking care of me,” Teresa said. “Even though I sinned. Whoever would have thought I'd meet an Amish woman in Asbury Park? And one who will take care of my son. I know my boy will grow up to be a great man of God. Perhaps he'll come and visit me once he's older and has a beautiful wife. Wouldn't that be something?”

“It would be,” Susan agreed. “But you have to think of other things right now. Like seeing a doctor and taking care of yourself during the pregnancy.”

“Here we are.” Teresa stopped and pointed toward a rundown, wooden, two-story house. The front yard was strewn with debris. “There's supposed to be nobody living here, so we don't lock up. Not that there's any danger. Mom and I have nothing to steal, and we're not good-looking enough to attract attention.”

“Twenty thirty-one—two zero three one,” Susan read aloud.

“Please don't tell anyone,” Teresa said. “This is all we have.”

“I won't,” Susan said. “And you are pretty! Don't let anybody tell you otherwise.”
Teresa is good-looking enough
, Susan thought.
Sure, she looks worn and weary, but that is understandable considering her circumstances
.

Teresa smiled. “That's nice of you to say, but like I said, you're not from my world.” She led the way across the yard and pushed open the rickety front door. A set of stairs led upward, and Teresa took them one step at a time.

The stairs didn't squeak much, considering how ratty there were. Wood pieces were broken out of the steps and the edges were worn thin by years of use.

Arriving at the top of the steps, Susan paused to take in her surroundings. Everything was fairly clean, but the furniture was old. What passed for a kitchen area was a single sink with a dripping faucet. The refrigerator front was rusty with great slabs of paint pulled off the door. A hall led out of the room, and she could see curtains covering two doorways. One was probably a bathroom.

“You really live here?” Susan asked.
Why did I ask such a mean question?
Susan thought belatedly.
I sound so harsh
.

“Thankfully we have power and water,” Teresa said, not seeming to be offended. “That's a lot to be thankful for! Charlie got things hooked up somehow from the place below. Back when he was still being nice to me. Don't ask me how though. He just did it. Mom pays a little to the landlord, and we try to keep things toned down. We don't turn on the lights much—just these dim lamps Mom got at Goodwill. Nobody else wanted them, I guess.”

“Lamps?” Susan asked as she walked over to the kitchen table. Around the edges of the table the veneer had worn off.
No self-respecting Amish would have anything like this anywhere near their house. Perhaps in the barn, but not inside the house. But Teresa can't help it, and she would feel worse if she knew my thoughts
, Susan decided.

“The lamps?” Teresa had a puzzled look on her face.

“Oh.” Susan refocused. “
Yah
, well, these look a little like Amish lamps. I have one in my apartment.”

“You do?” Teresa was beaming.

Susan nodded. It was
gut
to see joy filling Teresa's face.

“Then God has already been working in my life,” Teresa said. “We have Amish lamps in the house, and I didn't even know it. I'm so thrilled.”

“I'm glad you like them,” Susan said.

Teresa glanced down the stairs when a door slammed below them.

Susan jumped.

“It's Mom,” Teresa whispered. “She's home.”

“Are you sure?” Susan asked. The footsteps coming up the stairs sounded awfully heavy for a woman. But when she glanced down she saw a middle-aged woman appear carrying a single grocery bag.

“Hello,” the woman said warily when she reached the top of the stairs.

Susan nodded as Teresa said, “Mom, this is Susan. Susan, please met my mom, Maurice.”