Missing Your Smile (4 page)

“Oh, I didn't mean that,” Susan said. “I come from a farm myself.”

The woman laughed. “We're dairy farmers, dear. And thanks for popping Herbert's bubble. I told him we didn't need to spiff up, that we might as well come in our regular farm clothing.”

“Right!” he snorted, reaching for the sandwiches.

Susan pushed them across the counter, and he grabbed them with both hands. Callused hands, now that she looked.

“Sorry, I asked,” she said. “I meant no harm.”

“Don't you worry, dear,” the woman said. “It was good for him.”

“You do keep life interesting,” Laura said, as the couple left. “I don't think Asbury Park's had an Oyster Festival quite like this one before.”

“I didn't mean to offend him,” Susan said. “The question just came out.”

“You're doing fine.” Laura patted her on the arm.

“It's the clumsy Amish in me.” Susan's voice quivered. “I intend to get rid of all my Amishness.”

“Now why would you want to do something like that?” Laura asked. “It's kind of cute, if you ask me.”

“I'm getting rid of it exactly for that reason.” Susan clipped off the words. “I don't want to be cute anymore. I don't want to be taken advantage of and have my heart pulled out by its roots.”

“That boy must have been some heartbreaker,” Laura said, shaking her head. “Can't say I blame you though. But don't go trying to change too much of yourself. We need all kinds in the world, even the Amish. They are good people.”

“I'm going to change!” Susan snapped. “Whatever it takes, whatever it costs. It will be worth it. And I don't want to ever see Thomas again.”

“Isn't that a little violent? I thought you people were the nonviolent type? Like Martin Luther King.”

“We are—except when it comes to matters of the heart. Then you can have it torn out by the roots.”

“Well,” Laura said, “it's not the first time a girl's heart has been broken. Take things a little easy, and don't be too hard on yourself. It could have been worse. You could have married the guy and found out all of this afterward.”

Susan drew in her breath at the words.

“Now here comes Robby,” Laura said. “So I guess you can go. Enjoy yourself for the rest of the afternoon. I'll see you at the bakery tomorrow at five, as usual. Bright and early.”

“Even that's Amish,” Susan muttered.

Her comment produced another laugh from Laura.

S
usan took off her apron, folded it, and waited as Robby swung his legs over the side of the concession stand and stood before her, brushing loose strands of his shoulder-length hair away from his eyes. He was a tease, this boy. Almost a pest if he weren't so funny. The best approach, she had learned, was to fire back at any provocation.

“Don't tell me you're leaving already,” he chided.

“Your mom said I could quit early,” Susan said. “You have any objections?”

“No, of course not.” Robby glanced up and down the street. “How has business been?”

“What, you think I scared people off?” Susan teased.

“What's into her?” Robby glanced at his mother. “Have you not fed her today?”

Laura laughed and said, “You two, calm down. Business has been a little slow this afternoon, but there were long lines all morning. Most of the baked goods were gone before twelve. We should have brought more, but you never know.”

“Well, I'm here now,” Robby said. “And the fort is under control.”

“Ignore him,” Laura said. “And go. We can take care of things.”

Susan opened the small gate in the front of the stand and stepped out into the street.

“Don't spend all your money on candy,” Robby hollered after her.

Susan ignored him and walked on. Robby's heart was in the right place, just like his
mamm's
and
daett's
hearts were.
Da Hah
had shown much grace in leading her to this
Englisha
family, there was no doubt about that. And here she was with the same
Da Hah
guiding her in the
Englisha
world who was even at this moment guiding her
mamm
and
daett
back in the community. This was not an easy thing to believe, but it was true.
Da Hah
was helping her adjust.

“What are you doing tonight?” Robby hollered louder, and Susan gave him a backward wave without turning around. She quickened her pace down Cookman Avenue.
Perhaps I'm deceived about
Da Hah's
help
, Susan thought, remembering what Deacon Ray had said so many times at church services. No doubt if he were here, he'd tell her she couldn't tell the difference between right and wrong anymore. She shivered at the thought.

Where was her coat, now that evening was coming on? She should have brought it, but it was still hanging in the closet at the apartment. Well, she would make do for now. Besides, the coat looked quite Amish. Even with Deacon Ray haunting her memory, the time had definitely arrived to change some things: including a new coat and some proper
Englisha
clothing.

But now there was supper to think of. She could have prepared a sandwich before leaving the stand, but roast beef turned her stomach after seeing and smelling it all day.

The bustle of the crowd grew thicker the further she walked. People were bumping into each other, almost pushing to get through. Susan hesitated, dashing in between people when there was a chance, standing tightly against the buildings when there wasn't. She noticed a set of concrete steps and climbed them. They didn't lead anywhere but to a small landing overlooking the street. That was enough. She had to get out of the crowd to catch her breath. Susan paused on the landing and looked up and down the street. How different the city was from home. Beautiful in its own way, painted with splashes of color from the people in the crowded street adding charm to the varied architecture of the buildings.
Is this what I really want? Can this become home?
“It's worth a try,” she said out loud. She traced her steps back down to the street, turning sideways to enter the crowd between two women. Who said being Amish was the right thing anyway? Perhaps Thomas's crush on her best friend had been exactly what she needed. The push to get her thinking correctly. Otherwise she would have turned out like all the other women she knew—married with children running around her feet. Spending her days with diapers flooding the wash bucket and hanging them outdoors to flap in the wind.

But here in Asbury Park…this was a brand-new world, wide open with possibilities. Let the Amish visit Asbury Park if they wished; let them remind her of what she had left behind. She would not turn back.

Thomas is already becoming a distant memory, is he not?
Susan pressed against the side of a high building, feeling the concrete stucco dig into her back. Three huge, rough-looking men with tattoos walked by, their laughs at some private joke rumbling as they disappeared into the crowd.

Susan stared after them for a moment. It was to be expected that there would be such men in the
Englisha
world, but thankfully there were others too. Men who were kind, gentle to their girlfriends, educated, mysterious, and wise in ways an Amish boy couldn't even imagine.

Susan rubbed her hand across her eyes and then reached in her pocket for a handkerchief. She would find such a kind man here in the
Englisha
world. He had to be somewhere. A man who really believed in love, who didn't say words without meaning them, who didn't dream up promises while delivering nothing. Someone unlike Thomas, with all his flowery words that had meant nothing.

Just ahead of her appeared Laura's bakery nestled on Main Street, its familiar windows beckoning. Susan dug into her pocket for the apartment key, her fingers finding nothing. Surely she hadn't accidentally thrown it out when she used the handkerchief? Laura had a spare key, but that would require a long walk back to the concession stand.

Susan searched in her other pocket, her fingers digging deep. It was high time she purchased an
Englisha
purse like other women had. Perhaps then she wouldn't lose her key. But carrying a purse would require walking around looking like…well, certainly not Amish. Yet it needed doing.

What is it about today
, she wondered,
that seems like a giant leap forward? Did the two Amish couples at the stand affect me so deeply?
Apparently. Leaving home had been such a gigantic leap off a cliff that she'd thought once she'd landed and caught her breath, nothing else would be such a big deal. But perhaps that wasn't true.

Now, though, she had to enter the apartment, and there was no key. There also was nothing to do but retrace her steps and look for it. Perhaps the crowd would be thinning by now. Perhaps the key had fallen along the sidewalk and would be lying in plain sight.
Perhaps
. She didn't like the idea of relying on such chances as “perhaps
.”

Susan walked back, taking her time, keeping her eyes sweeping back and forth on the sidewalk and street. It wouldn't be dark for a while. Streetlights would come on then, but they weren't as effective in searching for a key as was
Da Hah'
s sun. She came to the end of Main Street, paused, and glanced up Cookman Avenue. The crowd had not thinned as she'd hoped. Most likely a little, itty-bitty key would long ago have been cast out into the street by the shuffle of hundreds of shoes. Hoping it had somehow landed somewhere easily spotted seemed about as foolish as thinking Thomas wasn't who he obviously was. Yet there was no choice but to go up Cookman toward Laura's stand. If she didn't find the key along the way, she'd have to ask Laura for her spare.

“You lost your key?” Laura would say, smiling in sympathy. But the smile wouldn't help take away Susan's feeling of stupidity over such a thing to do. At home on the farm there were less places to look for lost things, unless they were buried in the dirt. Even then they usually turned up. Perhaps because people on the farm cared more about lost things than city folk? Susan raised her eyes, glancing at the faces sweeping past her. There were so many people, most of them laughing, talking to each other, deep into their own worlds. Why would anyone care about a lost key?

Ahead of her the concrete steps rising to the landing where she had taken refuge came into focus. Could she have dropped the key up there? She hadn't taken anything out of her pockets until later. Yet as she reached the top step, Susan saw the glitter of the late-afternoon sunlight reflecting off metal. The key lay there, balanced on the very edge of the step. She reached down for it and slipped it into her pocket, keeping her fingers wrapped around the cold metal for the walk home. There would be no more chances taken tonight with the key.
Da Hah
had come to her rescue this once, and one should not tempt
Da Hah
with a lost key twice in one day.

Finally, with the crowd behind her, she once again reached the bakery. A little door next to the baker's side door opened onto the street. Sliding the key into the lock, she opened the door and picked up her mail that had been dropped through the slot to the floor inside. There were the usual flyers, a business-looking letter, and there on the bottom, an envelope with handwriting she recognized so well.
Mamm
had written again, and on a day like this. Well, it would make no difference. As much as it hurt
Mamm
and
Daett
, she was not going back. Time would surely heal all wounds, including her parents' disappointment in her choice to leave the community.

The stairs to the apartment above the bakery were off to the side of the bakery itself. As she slowly made her way up the steps, the usual creaking that had always been comforting was, tonight, a painful reminder of the old farmhouse stairs at home.

A person didn't simply pull up stakes, leaving a life of twenty-one years behind without the heart complaining. She knew that. It wouldn't be human to not feel the loss, and she certainly was human. Thomas had proven that, even if he had accomplished nothing else.

At least she hadn't been excommunicated. That would have been a right dandy mess to deal with. At twenty-one she should have been baptized, and so should have Thomas. His actions with Eunice now revealed what the rascal had been up to. All along Thomas must have carried his doubts about her. She had wanted to be baptized two years ago, but he said it wasn't necessary, that they should wait until it was closer to their wedding date. Thomas had said one could be right with God without baptism.