Missing Your Smile (3 page)

“Everything except the oysters,” the man said as he ran his hand through his hair.

“He's not much for oysters,” his wife explained. “Fix him a big, fat roast beef sandwich, if you would. No mustard and no pickles.”

“Coming right up!” Susan said. “Wheat or white bread?”

“Make that wheat,” the wife said, reaching up to run her hand over her husband's cheek. “It's better for him.”

“She's just like that. A real health case of late.” He laughed, his eyes on her face.

“Well…” the wife said, stroking his cheek again.

Susan sliced the roast beef, trying not to glance at them. Her mom and dad would never act like that in public.

“Have you been married long?” she asked, laying a slice of roast beef on the bread. Another dumb question that was, but it just slipped out.

A broad smile spread across the man's face. “Longer than you can imagine, dear.”

“It was fifty years ago, last week,” the wife said, still stroking his cheek absently. “And we just had to come back to Asbury Park to celebrate.”

“Even with the oysters.” He laughed again.

“We used to bring the children here for the festival,” the wife said, the words flowing out of her. “They always wanted to see the ocean. All three of them did. Not for swimming mind you, but just seeing the water. That's why we never came in the summer when everyone else comes. We'd rent rooms for the day, right on the beach, and stay up most of the night listening to the waves rolling in. For farm kids, it was the highlight of their year. We'd walk the boardwalk the next day, buy sandwiches, and little things. We couldn't afford much in those days, but we did what we could. The trip was expensive enough.”

“We have a farm well north of Philly,” he said. “Retired now. We rent out the place, and the kids are all gone on to bigger and better things. I guess farming isn't too profitable, so I can't blame them.”

“We decided to come back this year, just the two of us,” the wife said. “And it's a full moon tonight. You ought to go and watch it rise yourself. There's something special about the light on the water, almost like heaven opens up its gates for just a few minutes and lets us see inside.”

“We're a little religious,” the man said, bobbing his head. “Hope that doesn't offend you.”

“Oh, not at all,” Susan said, adding tomato to the sandwich. “I'm glad you told me that. I've never watched the moon come up over the ocean before.”

“Are you a farm girl?” he asked.

“
Yah
…” Susan felt the red run up her neck.

“I thought so,” he said, reaching for the sandwich.

“Oh, the sandwich,” Susan said, handing it to him. “I'm sorry. I was distracted for a moment.”

“Thanks for listening,” the wife said. “It was good to talk to you.”

They nodded and moved toward Laura. The man handed the sandwich to his wife before pulling out his billfold. Susan noticed it was worn and well used, the leather scuffed and even broken in spots. His fingers trembled as he extracted the bills.

“Nice talking to you,” he said, with a backward glance. Susan nodded, and they moved down the street. The woman hung onto his arm, and he slipped his hand around her waist. They disappeared into the throng.

“A nice couple,” Laura said. “The salt of the earth type. You handled them well. You're a good listener. You'd make a good counselor. People warm up to you and spill their secrets.”

“No,” Susan said with a nervous laugh. “They probably needed someone to talk to at the moment. Besides, I couldn't be a professional counselor. I only have an eighth grade education.”

Laura raised her eyebrows. “You dropped out? That's too bad. You really need to finish school if you want to make a go of things. I know you like the job at the bakery, but there's more of the world out there than what I can offer. And you need an education for it. How old are you? Twenty? I can't remember what you told me.”

“A little more than that.”

“Well, I know a woman doesn't like to give her age. But you do look twenty or less. It must be the farm life.”

Susan took a deep breath. “I'm not a dropout. I don't want you to get the wrong impression.”

“So what do you call it then? Is there an Amish word for skipping school?”

“An eighth-grade education—that's all they give us.”

“Around here it's called dropping out. It's also a little more serious. Really, Susan, you ought to look into completing your schooling. You could take your GED test; study for it in your spare time. You could go from there once you passed. I might even be able to convince Robby to drive you to the community college for night classes.”

“You've already been more than kind,” Susan said. “But really…I don't know about more schooling. It's not well looked upon by the community.”

“Oh. It's our choice, though, what each of us chooses to do with our lives,” Laura said. “And you don't have to talk to me about your past or what you're running from. I'm more than willing to help you get on your feet again. I don't think the Amish community has much say in our world, do they?”

“No,” Susan said, her eyes searching the mass of people on the street. “The community's eyes are hard to get away from though. It's not easy.”

“I suppose not,” Laura said. “But I'll do what I can to help. Someone once helped me when I was young and trying to start over.”

“I appreciate it more than you know,” Susan said. “I'm sure you've wondered why I'm here.” It was the opening Susan felt she had to give her employer. Laura deserved to be told more than what she'd confided already. Laura didn't have to give her a job. Sure, Laura's sister had given her a recommendation, but that didn't mean Laura had to hire her…or rent her the little apartment above the bakery.

Laura smiled. “No, I don't need to know, Susan. I remember what it was like trying to get a fresh foothold. Bonnie assured me you'd be a good worker, and you have been. I don't want to pry. I'm just glad I can help.”

“I was seeing a boy. For a few years…” Susan said in spite of Laura's words. “I loved him a lot.”

“Yes?” Laura encouraged, her voice sympathetic.

“Then he fell head over heels for my best friend, Eunice,” Susan continued, keeping her eyes on the street. “I caught them kissing each other one Sunday night when I walked out to ride home with him.”

“Lord, help us all.” Laura sighed. “So that's the big dark secret. Here I thought—my sister not withstanding—that you might be a murderess running from the law. Thank goodness I followed my instincts and not my fears.”

“You didn't really think…?”

“Of course not, dear. It was a joke.”

“I'm so sorry. It's just that, well I had to get away from the situation.”

“So why Asbury Park?”

Susan shrugged. “I worked for your sister and really liked her. After the…situation…happened, I confided in her. She suggested I come here if I wanted to start over. I thought about it, and it seemed like a good idea. I couldn't stay at home anymore. I couldn't bear to see Thomas. The more Bonnie told me about Asbury Park, the more I thought the place sounded good—the city, the possibility of a job, the ocean nearby. Then Bonnie called you, and you said yes to interviewing and possibly hiring me.”

“Bonnie didn't tell me all that, but I guess people make big life decisions for even lesser reasons. Sorry to hear about the boyfriend. So you were in love with him?”

“More than I wish I had been.”

“Is he dating this Eunice now?”

“I don't know,” Susan said.

“He won't be showing up here some dark night looking for you?”

Susan's eyes got big.

“I'm
kidding
again!” Laura laughed.

Susan smiled. “No, I doubt Thomas would ever do that.”

“He must have been something,” Laura said. “Really, for a girl to uproot her whole life to get away. But you shouldn't feel alone. Others have gone through the same thing and thought the same things. I'll be here to help you through this if you need me.”

“I don't want to be a bother. Really I don't.”

“I know you don't. And you're not, dear. Trust me on that.”

“I'm not going back to Indiana anytime soon.” Susan turned to meet Laura's gaze.

“Then on to your new life in Asbury Park,” Laura said. “And here comes someone for a sandwich, so I think we'd best stop gabbing.”

“Hello,” Susan said as she turned to face a young man. “Can I help you?”

It is the right thing to do
, she told herself,
the staying in Asbury Park. It's the perfect place to start over
. She had been certain since the night she arrived.

“A sandwich with all the trimmings,” the young man in front of her said.

“White or wheat bread?”

“That would be white, please.” He smiled. “White bread goes down easier.”

“I suppose so,” Susan said, returning his smile.

I really need to stop thinking about boys
, Susan thought.
But how does a person do that in the
Englisha
world? Is merely talking with a nice boy okay? The rules seem scarce out here
.

She sliced the bread, feeling the boy's eyes on her face. He seemed decent, but she was obviously not a good judge of such things. She had thought the best about Thomas—and what a mistake that had been. She had believed him when he said their love was a pure one, placed in their hearts by God. He had called it a sanctified love.

Ha!
She trembled to think that it was so sanctified as to be cast aside and trampled underfoot when his heart longed for someone else. How stupid she had been. What was it the preachers talked about Sunday morning in church? The stories of people who cast pearls in front of swine. Well, one thing was for sure—she would never look for love again. Not among her own people, at least. Thomas had cured her of that.

“Thank you,” the boy in front of her said when she handed him the sandwich. He turned to pay Laura, pulling out his billfold. It was shiny, the leather new, and even the bills inside seemed pressed and crisp.

Like my new start in life. It will be much better this way
, she thought, watching him disappear into the crowd.

“Things should wrap up soon around here,” Laura said.

“The festival goes until seven, doesn't it?” Susan asked.

“Yes, but there won't be much call for sandwiches from now till closing time. People will start drifting into the restaurants for supper.”

“You have to stay open though.”

“But not you,” Laura said with a firm look. “Robby will be here by five. We can handle things, including cleanup.”

“But I can stay, really.”

“Thirty more minutes and then you're gone,” Laura said. “Take some time to walk the festival or whatever else you wish to do. After all, it's your first time, and Asbury Park is at its finest during the festival.”

“I guess it would be nice to have some time off. Perhaps I can walk out to the ocean,” Susan said.

A man approached and, after a brief look at the menu, said, “Two roast beefs.” A woman, obviously his wife, came up beside him.

“White or wheat?” Susan asked. “And what would you like on it?”

“White,” the man said. “And we'll take just the roast beef and salad dressing. Nothing else.”

Susan watched them out of the corner of her eye, as she sliced the meat. They didn't look happy—not like the earlier couple. Was it the farm perhaps that created love between people? Were these city people? Did love perhaps not grow in the city? They did look like city people—the man's blue-checkered shirt freshly ironed, the woman in black dress slacks.

She spread the salad dressing, glancing at them as she worked.

“That's too much dressing.” The man's voice was sharp. “You'll choke us to death, not to mention what will happen to our arteries.”

“Lettuce helps the arteries—and the rest of the body,” Susan said, forcing a smile. “Shall I put on a few pieces?”

“What are you, a dietitian? Just take most of the salad dressing off.”

Susan removed most of the salad dressing, scraping it with her knife. She shook the residue into the wastebasket.

“Are you two from a farm?” she asked casually.

The man stiffened.

The woman with him laughed, punching the man in the ribs.

“There you go, Herbert. So much for incognito. The young lady sees right through your disguise.”

The man snorted. “We can't even get into town for a day without someone smelling the barnyard on us.”