Missing Your Smile (29 page)

“I imagine that would be a good attitude to have if a person didn't believe in birth control.”

Susan smiled at Laura's bold words. The
Englisha
just came right out and said things.

“So Teresa and her mom will accept our help?”

“Yes.” Susan sipped her coffee. “I told Teresa's mom about your offer to arrange and pay for a doctor's visit for Teresa. She said we can stop in anytime and pick up Teresa for the appointment. They aren't gone much, I guess.”

“I'll make some calls and see what can be arranged. The sooner the better, I suppose. I didn't get that good a look at the young woman, but I'd say she's pretty far along.”

Susan nodded. “From how my sisters all looked, I'd say so too.”

“All the more reason to get her to a doctor right away. If Teresa wants to give the child up for adoption, the paperwork should be started. And there are plenty of people lined up to adopt. Finding a good, decent couple shouldn't be hard at all.”

“She has her heart set on an Amish couple,” Susan reminded, turning to glance outside at the bustling traffic.
How did such a dream as Teresa's get planted in her head with this big city all around her? Perhaps the city made country life look so much better? Teresa made one giant leap and landed squarely in my life!
Daett
would say
Da Hah
was in such things. But is He?
Yah,
I will write the best letter I can, even believing the answer will probably be no. Surely no harm can come out of an attempt to help Teresa
, she decided
. Mamm
and
Daett
won't think ill of my helping an unwed mother
. Nee,
there is something else troubling, in the back of my mind but I can't quite put my finger on it
.

“I think the girl will come around eventually,” Laura was saying. “Once we get her to the clinic and she gets into the flow of things, she'll see the reality of the situation. Especially when she hears about all the local couples waiting for babies. Dreams tend to fit reality at the end. I wouldn't worry about it, if I were you.”

“Still, I have to write the letter,” Susan said. “I promised.”

“You do that.” Laura patted Susan on the arm and got up from the table. “Here comes Robby. I just saw him go past the window.”

“Robby?”

“He told me not to tell you,” Laura whispered. “He's coming by to take you on another driving lesson.”

“You're kidding! After what happened last time?”

“I don't know about that,” Laura said. “I never heard the details. But whatever it was you put him through, he's willing to take you out again.”

“But where?” Susan asked.

The door opened.

Laura said, “I don't know. Why don't you ask him?”

Susan stood and stared at Robby. “You're taking me driving?” she asked.

“I have evaluated my life,” he said, bowing low and sweeping his arm across his knees. “And I have decided the princess is worthy of my dedication and loyalty. Even unto
death
. Which, under the circumstances, may be the case.”

Laura laughed. “You two are the limit! Now scram before anyone sees your antics.”

Susan was suddenly cold all over. The traffic going past the window looked like missiles coming toward her, ready to crash into her.

“You ready?” Robby asked. “Let's go!”

“You're kidding me, aren't you?” Susan asked, as they went out the door. “We'll look at the car, and then you'll back out and tell me it's a joke.”

“It's no joke. Really. I'm up for this.”

“So will it be in that park again?” Susan asked. “Because I don't have the time to go all the way up there. I have a dinner date with Duane.”

“Then you'll drive here in the city,” Robby said.

“I'll kill you for sure.”

“I'm not worried.”

Susan thought about it.
I can do this. I can do this!
she repeated, hoping it would give her confidence. Driving was a great privilege, and she did want to learn. It really wasn't that hard. It likely was mind over matter. After all, she could drive horses from on top of a wagon-load of hay and live to tell about it. Why was an
Englisha
automobile such a fearful thing?

Robby unlocked the door and motioned her inside. “Behind the wheel you go.”

Susan climbed in, now muttering softly, “I can do this. I can do this. Think horses. Think horses. Think horses.”

“Saying your prayers?” Robby asked as he climbed into the passenger side.

“Very funny,” she said.

“Actually, we might need prayer,” he said.

“Your seat belt,” she said, taking charge and snapping on her own. She would show him!

“Done,” he said. “Remember, it's brake left. Gas right.”

“Shhh…” She put the vehicle into drive, her foot on the brake. “I'm thinking buggies and hay wagons right now. Leather reins and wind blowing across the fields with the hay-loaded wagon swaying under me.”

With that, Susan saw a space in the traffic and eased out, her fingers tight around the wheel. “Here we go!” she said hopefully.
Think farm. Think farm and pulling left and pulling right. No backward jerks, just stomping the brakes, gently, and gas for forward. Think lines out and lines in. Feet not hands
.

“There's a light coming up,” Robby warned. “And it's red.”

“I know…and I'm stopping.” Susan pressed the brake, seeing past the red light to the glare of the advancing sun toward the west.

How many times had she squinted into the sun to steer the horses at home, pulling into the exact position for the grain elevators? She had stopped many times with only inches separating the sides of the wagons.

“That was a nice, smooth stop,” Robby said. “You're doing okay.”

“Thank you!”

“The light has turned green,” Robby said.

“I know.” Susan kept her eyes on the car in front of her and eased on the gas. It was a little like letting out the lines, only with a car you pushed them.

“Keep going straight,” Robby said. “Thankfully, the traffic isn't too bad today.”

“Like that helps. It only takes one other car for me to have an accident.”

“Now turn left at the next light. You need the practice.”

Susan pushed the turn signal down as she slowed down.

“The light's green,” she said, making the turn in one smooth motion.

There was a pothole ahead—like a groundhog hole the horses could get their hooves caught in, which wasn't
gut
. She steered slightly to the left, missing the bump. She glanced at Robby. He was looking in the side mirror.

“You should have gone through the hole,” he said. “If we'd been on a four lane, swerving might throw you into the car beside you.”

“The horses could have caught their hooves,” she said, slowing for another light.

“
Horses?
What has that got to do with driving a car?”

“Tires. Horse hooves. Aren't they about the same?”

“No, Susan! No.”

“Horse hooves break and car tires blow,” Susan continued, pressing her point.

“Just
drive!
” he commanded. “And you can fix tires. You can't fix horse hooves. Remember that. Turn again.”

“
Yah
,” she agreed. “Horses have to be put down if they break a leg.”

“Enough with the horses already, okay? This is a
car
. Remember that.”

“It helps me drive,” Susan said, as a car horn blew behind her. She jumped.

“Slow down,” Robby said. “There's another light ahead. And don't worry, the honking horn wasn't about you.”

“It's green now,” she said, rattled. “What if it turns red?”

“The light turns yellow before it turns red.”

“It's yellow now.”

“I know that, but you have time. Keep going.”

Susan saw the light disappearing over the top of the windshield glass, the color still yellow.

“You're doing okay,” Robby said. “But that was cutting things a little close.”

From a distance behind them they heard the squeal of brakes followed by a dull thud of metal crashing.

“Oh no! Did I do that? Did I cause a wreck?” Susan gasped, stomping on the brakes, thrusting Robby forward as his body strained against the shoulder harness. “What did I do? I was driving carefully!” Susan asked, the words coming out in a rush.

“You didn't do anything,” Robby said. “It wasn't us. It was the guy behind us. He must have tried to make it through the light and got hit.”

Susan glanced in the rearview mirror and saw a car behind them, steam rolling out from under its hood. It had been knocked in the side by another vehicle coming from the cross street. An angry man was getting out the driver's side of the car, his muffled shouting filling the street.

“It wasn't us, and we didn't see the accident,” Robby said. “You don't really want to be involved in city accidents.”

“But we saw it happen. Perhaps the police will want to hear our story?”

“We saw it
after
it happened,” Robby said. “Even I wasn't looking in the side-view mirror when they hit.”

“The light was still yellow when we went underneath,” she said. “I remember that much.”

“So you want to tell the officer that? Who says it was or wasn't yellow for the other guy? See, you'd better leave those things to the people who can figure them out. You didn't see him drive under the yellow light, so you really didn't see anything. Besides, both drivers are out of their cars. No one was hurt.”

“Well, okay…I guess,” Susan said, removing her foot from the brake, preparing to move on.

“Wait! I'll drive back,” Robby said. “This has been enough practicing for one day.”

“But we hardly started,” Susan complained.

“Even so, we're finished for today,” Robby said.

S
usan let out a short gasp, but Duane didn't seem to notice. The restaurant was breathtaking. Never had she seen anything like it. The walls were a pale cream, the carpet a matching flowery spread. From where she stood, the tables looked huge—even the ones set for just two people. The tall, brown plush chairs with their high backs looked elegant.
What am I doing here?
she wondered.
And is my purple blouse and skirt
gut
enough for a place like this? Is it
gut
enough to be seen with Duane, who is looking so handsome in his sharp black suit?

“Seating for two for the Moran party,” Duane said to the nodding maître d', who was dressed in a black suit, a little black matching bow tie up by his throat, accented against his white shirt.

“Yes, sir,” the man said, pulling a little book from his pocket and flipping through it. Apparently he found what he was looking for. He smiled. “We are rather full tonight. This way, please.”

Duane turned and motioned Susan forward.

Are people staring at me?
Susan wondered. She tried to walk straight as she followed the man's bobbing back. Duane kept close to her, walking right at her elbow. The maître d' stopped at a table in a cozy corner of the room near the back, a huge painting with an Italian theme hanging next to it.

“Please be seated, ma'am,” the maître d' said, pulling out a chair for Susan. As she sat down and he gently pushed the chair toward the table, he said, “Your server will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you,” Duane said.

The man disappeared, heading back to where he came from. The soft hum of conversation rose around them as Duane pulled out a chair and sat across from Susan.

“You shouldn't have brought me here,” Susan whispered. “I'm not dressed right.”