Missing Your Smile (30 page)

“Your outfit is lovely,” he said. “I just hadn't gotten around to saying so.”

“You're teasing me.”

“No, I'm not. It's perfect for you. It brings out the country color in your face. Quite proper, I say. Did Laura help you choose?”

“Laura? Yes, she did.”

He smiled knowingly.

“Laura has far better taste about these things than I do,” Susan said.

“Oh, I imagine you could have made the choice yourself,” Duane said. “You'd be good at such things. I know you would.”

Susan felt a warm glow at his praise. Thomas never talked about her dress selections or how she made them. But this was a different world, and she would enjoy getting used to this.

As the server approached, Susan tried not to stare. She was dressed in a sharp-looking, dark-gray pants suit that was trimmed in white. She wore long, dangling earrings that sparkled in the light.

“Good evening,” she said. “My name is Tanya, and I'll be serving you this evening.” She placed two fancy menus in front of them.

Susan couldn't take her eyes off the woman. Young, beautiful, exquisitely dressed, and so perfect and confident. So unlike she was
.

“Would you like to begin with an appetizer?” the waitress asked. “Perhaps drinks?”

“Sure. Let's have the anchovy appetizer. Just one,” Duane said. “As for drinks, sparkling water for me.”

“And for you, ma'am?” The server turned to Susan.

“Water…water will be fine,” she said, hoping her voice hadn't squeaked.

The woman smiled, nodded to Duane, and then disappeared. Susan thought they seemed to know each other.
Duane likely comes in here often
, she decided.

“I'm sorry for not asking you about the appetizer,” he said quietly. “I wanted you to sample the anchovies. You can order whatever you want for your entree.”

“You do think I'm a country hick, don't you?”

He smiled. “No, but you
are
country, which I like. I'm guessing you've never had anchovies. Am I right?”

“What are they?” she asked.

Duane smiled. “There! Just like I thought. Take it from me, they're very good.”

“You haven't told me what they are.”

“They'll be here before long. Then you'll see.”

“What if I don't like them?”

He laughed now, obviously enjoying himself.

“You're tormenting me for your own pleasure,” she accused.

“Perhaps,” he said. “But it's in fun.”

“You know that's not nice. Taking people places they don't belong so you can enjoy yourself at their expense.”

“You judge me too harshly,” he said.

“Do I?”

He shrugged. “I'll leave you to determine that, but you have nothing to be ashamed of. You are smart, poised, possessed of common sense, and...beautiful.”

She couldn't look at him, especially if he was going to say things like that. Perhaps she was judging him too harshly. He had brought her here for a nice dinner, after all. “I forgive you then!” she said.

He laughed, and the sound seemed to wrap around the table. Duane had an infectious laugh, and she liked it.

“Your appetizer,” the server said from behind her. A platter of anchovies arranged beautifully with colorful garnishes was set on the table. “Enjoy!”

“Those are anchovies?” Susan asked. “They look like little fish.”

He laughed again. “They
are
little fish.”

He would have to stop laughing soon, she hoped. She was enjoying the sound way too much.

“You eat them with the skin on, just as they are. They're served with roasted peppers and mozzarella cheese.” He placed some on his appetizer plate and then demonstrated how to eat them, a look of sheer ecstasy on his face.

“Try one,” he encouraged. “Find out what food in
our
world tastes like.”

“The
Englisha
world,” she said, her fork poised. “Do I dare? What if I don't like it?”

“Just try one.”

Susan lifted a bite of one of the shimmering little fish to her mouth, sliding it onto her tongue, expecting the worst. The fish had looked almost raw.
Are they raw?
She chewed. To her surprise the taste was actually pleasant.

“Now the peppers and cheese,” he said, watching her face.

She added them, and the taste became even better. A broad smile spread over her face.

Duane looked like he wanted to jump out of his chair with pride.

“Half and half.” He divided the appetizer down the middle. “I should have ordered two servings, I guess. But I didn't want to spoil our dinner.”

Susan slid her share onto her appetizer plate and ate, taking her time, enjoying each bite. “Each bite seems better than the last,” she said. “Not quite the same as meat and potatoes.”

“I'm glad you like it. Our server is coming back, and we haven't looked at the menu yet.”

Susan quickly picked up her menu.

Tanya arrived. “Are you ready to order or do you need more time?”

“If you could give us a moment,” Duane requested.

He likely knew what he wanted, but is asking so I can have more time
, Susan figured. “Please go ahead and order,” Susan said. “I'll decide quickly.”

“Well then,” he said, “I'll take the boneless chicken breast.”

So he did know what he wanted without looking
, Susan noted.

“And on your salad?”

“Honey mustard on the side,” he said. “And I'll have it with my meal, please.”

Now they were waiting for her.

Susan's eyes had already caught a word on the menu she knew she liked. At least she knew what it was—and it wasn't chicken or steak. Those were too common back home. But once in a blue moon, her sister Betsy made this and Susan always loved it.

“The cheese ravioli, please.” Susan rolled it off her tongue with a confident smile.
There!
She knew how to say the word—an Italian word, at that.

“That's a great choice,” the waitress said. “Would you like a salad with that?”

“I think I'll pass, thank you,” Susan said.

When the server left, Duane leaned forward on his elbows. “So what have you been doing with yourself?” he asked.

Susan sat straighter. “That's a long story. Are you sure you want to hear it?”

“You can start,” he said. “I'm sure it's interesting.”

“I'm studying for my GED on Laura's computer, practicing driving so I can take the driving test, and today an unwed young pregnant woman came into the bakery looking for help. Laura is going to take her to see a doctor, and we'll help her from there.”

“Wow!” he said with a low whistle. “You have been busy! It doesn't sound like there's a moment left to catch your breath.”

“It does seem that way, but it helps the days go by faster. I'm trying hard to fit into the
Englisha
world.”

“Still lonesome for home?” he asked.

“More than I want to admit sometimes,” Susan confessed. She was surprised at the admission. She hadn't even told Laura that.

“It's to be expected,” he said. “But you're doing really well adjusting. Some women would be scared to attempt all the things you're doing and to make all the changes you're making.”

There he went, saying the nice words she liked hearing. He was much better at it than Thomas had been.

“By the way,” he said, “how are your knees?”

Oh, he had to go and remember that
. She'd almost forgotten about it. She dared a glance at his face as she felt blood rushing to her head.

“That's an embarrassing subject,” she whispered.

“It's nothing to be embarrassed about,” he said. “I've taken many a spill myself.”

Apparently he hadn't remembered seeing her legs, which was
gut
.

“I don't wear the shoes you women do. I imagine I'd trip a lot more in women's shoes.”

“That does make a difference.”

“By the way, what happened to the shoe that came off? You said you left it in the middle of the street. Did you retrieve it?”

Susan shrugged. “It was gone by the time I walked back after lunch. I limped back to the bakery the best I could and threw away the survivor. Thankfully I had another pair.”

A plate appeared silently next to her head and Susan jumped.

“Excuse me,” their server said. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

Duane leaned back and the server placed his plate in front of him. She placed the other plate in front of Susan then disappeared again.

“We can pray before she gets back,” Duane said, bowing his head.

Susan followed him, startled by the suddenness.

Just as he finished his short prayer, the server returned with his salad.

Susan watched out of the corner of her eye to see every move Duane made so she could do likewise. She noticed how he held his fork. When he cut his chicken, she cut her ravioli. She moved slowly lest with a simple slip of the knife ravioli would be down the front of her blouse and skirt and all over her lap.

“Do you like the ravioli?” Duane asked.

Susan nodded.

“This is the best Italian restaurant around,” he said. “That's what they say in their advertisement, anyway.”

“Is it true? It sounds a little prideful,” Susan said, thinking it felt good to talk about a fault that wasn't her own for a moment.

“It has nothing to with pride. It's just a little slogan used to attract customers.”

“‘The best Italian restaurant around'? That's their slogan?”

“Yes.”

“Well, this place sure seems nice—and fancy too. Even this picture on the wall must have cost a fortune.”

Duane turned to look at the picture.

“I think that's actually a Mexican scene,” he said. “And I don't think it's very expensive. They try to create a certain mood here. It's not really about being rich. Asbury Park doesn't have that many rich people.”

Susan was surprised.
He doesn't think he's rich? Thomas certainly couldn't afford the prices she'd seen on the menu. Neither could her
daett
or anyone she knew back home
.

Susan finished before Duane did. She sat patiently, soaking everything in. When the check came, Duane gave the waitress a credit card. Moments later she returned with a piece of paper for him to sign. Susan had seen this done before—buying something without having the cash in hand. It still amazed her.
Why not just pay with cash?
she wondered.

“Ready to go?” he asked, getting up and moving around behind her to help pull her chair back.

Susan felt dazzled and light-headed as they walked through the restaurant and out the door. Duane opened the car door for her, waited until she slid in, and then closed it.

After walking to the driver's side, he got in and started the car. “I enjoyed our meal together,” he said as he drove to her apartment.

“
Yah
, it was delightful,” she agreed, looking up at him. “I mean,
yes
, it was. Thank you so very much. I can't tell you how much I enjoyed it…even if I felt out of place.”

“Perhaps we can do it again sometime,” he suggested.

“I'd like that,” she said.

He quickly got out and came around to open her car door. He walked with her to the apartment door and waited as she unlocked it. Duane watched her go inside and heard the dead bolt click.

He waited until I was inside and had the door locked. That's how he is
, Susan thought.
Caring but never definite about the future. Saying “sometime” we could do it again. The best way, likely
. Love, if it did come, would not be easy, especially if it came in the form of an
Englisha
man—and such a good-looking one, at that.