Missing Your Smile (34 page)

T
he traffic coming home from church was light, and Susan was glad for the extra time to relax before Duane would show up later that afternoon.

“Thanks for the ride, Laura.” Susan gathered her things. “It was a nice sermon today.”

“I suppose it's different than what you're used to,” Laura said.

“Well, it's not in German. But I like it.”

“If we could just get Robby to come,” Laura said, sadness in her voice.

“He's a nice man. He'll come around. Look at all the help he's giving me. The driving lessons even though I've scared him half to death!”

“Robby does have a soft heart.”

“Yes, he does.” Susan paused. “Laura, would you call Duane for me?”

“Why?”

“Well…” Susan felt a blush coming on. “He's coming over to help me with my GED math studies, and I've made him supper. We didn't talk about supper, but I'd like to invite him.”

“That's nice!” Laura opened her cell phone. “He'll love it, I'm sure. Why don't you call?” She punched in the numbers and handed the phone to Susan.

Taking the phone, Susan listened for a moment and then said, “Hello, Duane. This is Susan. I wondered if you'd like to have supper when you come over this afternoon.” After a brief pause, Susan flipped the phone closed and handed it to Laura. “He says he'll be glad to come for dinner.”

“You have a good time now. The man is a good catch,” Laura said as Susan got out and shut the car door.

In shock, Susan watched Laura's car disappear.
Is that what I'm doing? Catching a man? I thought I was just being friendly, but is that the case?
Duane had taken her out twice for a meal, and fixing him an Amish supper seemed appropriate. At least in her book. But did it mean more in the
Englisha
book?
Well, it's too late to worry about that now. Two pies are made and a roast is in the oven
.

Susan climbed the stairs, hearing the squeak at each step. The comfort of being reminded of home could soak deep inside if she let it. And the aroma of the roast coming from the top of the stairs was also a blessed reminder of home.

Entering the apartment, she went directly to the oven and checked the meat. It seemed fine. Cooking with electricity—especially in her own apartment—was still a novelty. Later she would toss a small salad, finish the mashed potatoes, and prepare gravy. While she had time, she wanted to walk over to Teresa's to see how she was doing.

Susan pulled out two large paper bags. In one she put the disposable diapers and the blue jumper. In the other, she tucked in a peach pie. She was saving the pecan pie for Duane. The men at home loved pecan pie, and she hoped the same was true of
Englisha
men.

With everything in order, she left the apartment. Crossing the railroad tracks, she located Teresa's street. The neighborhood made her uneasy. She glanced around for any unsavory characters before heading down the row of crumbling structures.

Finding the house, she knocked on the rickety door. When there was no response, she opened the door. Teresa had said to just come on in if no one answered. Before she started up the stairs she heard Teresa call out, “Susan, is that you?” from somewhere upstairs.

“Yes, it's me!” Susan hollered back.

“I hoped so,” Teresa said, appearing at the top of the staircase. “I couldn't imagine who else would be visiting on a Sunday afternoon.”

“Is your mom in?” Susan asked as she arrived at the top of the steps.

“No.” Teresa gave Susan a long hug. “I'm so glad to see you. Likely Mom won't be back till late. She's working at McDonald's this afternoon. I've been listening to TV preachers this morning. How I wish I could find some Amish preaching, but there isn't any I could find.”

“No, Amish ministers wouldn't be on TV,” Susan said with a laugh as they entered the small apartment.

“I brought you some things,” Susan said, setting the bags on the table.

“Really? You didn't have to. You've already done so much. I was going to visit the bakery shop this week, but my legs are giving out on me,” Teresa said. “It comes from carrying this big boy around,” she said with a smile.

“I hear everything went well with the doctor,” Susan said. “And that it
is
a boy!” She took the blue jumper out of the bag and handed it to Teresa. “Do you think he'll like this?”

“A blue sleeper! Oh, Susan, it's perfect!” Teresa looked away and wiped her eyes. She ran her fingers over the soft cloth. “I'm sorry about the tears. I've never had anything like this before. Baby clothing—and soon a baby! And then someone who can really take care of him. If Charlie would only be the father he should be, we could make a go of it. But he refuses.”

“Are you thinking of keeping the child?” Susan asked. “I think you'd love that.”

“I'd love to,” Teresa said amid more tears. “The closer I get to my due date, the harder it is to
not
be thinking about keeping him. I find myself thinking of what he's going to look like and how his little cheeks and hands will feel. I think about what it would be like if I nursed him. But that won't happen if I let him go. And I do have to let him go. That's the best thing for him. I can't raise him in this place.”

Susan left the diapers on the table, and the two women moved to the couch.

“I don't know how to thank you,” Teresa said again.

“And I wish there were more I could do.”

“Have you written to your parents?”

Susan nodded.

“That's more than enough. I just know it will work out. Someone in the Amish community will say yes. I just know it!”

“Teresa, don't get your hopes too high. Adoption isn't something Amish people commonly do. I don't want you to be disappointed.”

Teresa laughed but it sounded hollow. “I'm afraid I've got myself painted in a corner on that one. I guess it goes to show what happens when a person shoots for the stars. Mom always told me, don't shoot for the best, you'll be shooting too high, and you'll end up with nothing. But me? I went ahead and shot anyway.”

“You could always put the child up for adoption with a local couple. Surely the clinic knows of nice Christian people who would love to give your boy a good home.”

“No. I'm praying real hard, Susan. I'm praying like I've never prayed before.”

Susan decided to mention something that had been on her mind the past couple of days. “Teresa, you know you could come to live with me at the apartment until the baby is born. That way your mother couldn't pressure you with the adoption.”

“I don't think so,” Teresa said. “Despite our differences on this, Mom has stood by me for so long. I can't just walk out on her. The only reason Mom is agreeing to me pursuing the Amish adoption is because she wants something nice for me. I haven't had a lot of nice things. Life hasn't always been easy for us. And because I want this so badly, she's allowing it. But if this Amish thing doesn't work out, that will likely be the end of it. She knows I would want to keep him, and she's not going to allow that.”

Susan got up to pace the floor, stopping to look out the window at the debris-strewn sidewalks. “Well then, what about coming home to the community with me? That would get you away from here. I've been thinking of visiting home anyway.” There, she said it. Susan was grasping for straws now, and she knew it. But Teresa's face spoke volumes of hope. Susan just couldn't see her let down.

“Go home…with you?” Teresa asked, almost laughing at the idea.

“Why not?”

“Because it wouldn't do any good if the Amish don't take my child. And if the Amish do take my child, then I shouldn't be there.”

Susan sighed. “I just wish there was more I could do for you.”

“You've done plenty.” Teresa patted Susan on the arm. “Look at the presents you brought. Mom will be really surprised. I think she's surprised almost every day by what keeps happening. At least she's not laughing at me anymore.”

“I've also brought you a pie.” Susan slid the pan out of the bag. “A peach pie. I know it's not much with all that you have to face, but I hope you'll like it.”

“Oh dear.” Teresa wrapped her arms around Susan. “It's a home-baked pie, isn't it?”

“Yes,” Susan confirmed.

“It is an Amish pie.” Teresa leaned over the table, taking in a long breath. “That must be what the air of heaven smells like.”

“I doubt that.” Susan laughed. “It's just a peach pie.”

“To you it might be only a peach pie, but to me it's the smell of home. Oh, I so want God to allow my son to grow up in a place where they make things like this!”

“I know, Teresa,” Susan said, hugging her friend with both arms.

“And I think He will!” Teresa said. “I really think He will because He's a good God. He might not do it for me, but he'll do it for my baby, who has never done anything wrong.”

S
usan hurried down the sidewalk, her purse strap wrapped around her arm. She waited for long moments at the traffic signal, pushing herself to walk faster when the light turned green. The time at Teresa's place had gone longer than planned, and now she was late. Still, the visit with Teresa had been wonderful. Susan marveled at the young woman's bravery. How Teresa kept her faith up under the pressure was amazing. Would God answer her prayers with a yes or would a no send Teresa crashing into despair?

What would it be like to have so many fears and doubts about the world you lived in that you didn't want your own child to live there? In comparison, being raised Amish was like the green pastures of heaven. Which was exactly how Teresa saw Amish life.
But the Amish aren't saints
, Susan reminded herself.
Teresa has never met Thomas
.

Susan sighed, jiggling on her feet as another light took its good time turning green. There were more people out now, mostly couples, a few with baby carriages. The women were window shopping while the men followed along. Susan smiled at the thought. What would Thomas do out on a city sidewalk on a Sunday afternoon? It was impossible to imagine. He would be like a duck without water or a cow without pasture. He would feel like a barn with no horses. No, Thomas definitely didn't fit in here.

So why am I here, drifting so far from my people? Is it just a whim? No
, she told herself,
God has a purpose, even in my bumbling foolishness
. And she'd had a reason: She'd needed to get away.
Well, I've done that! There's no question about that
.

Finally, here was the last light. She would soon be at her apartment, plunging elbow deep into preparing supper for Duane. That ought to take her mind off troubling thoughts. She was not going to be a
boppli
, mourning for what could never be. Yet somewhere deep inside she had to admit that it would be nice to be back home tonight, preparing supper for
Mamm
and
Daett
instead of an
Englisha
man.