Missing Your Smile (44 page)

Up ahead Thomas saw a large Greyhound sign painted on a building. He reached for his hat in the overhead compartment. He might look strange wearing his Amish-style hat in the big city, but there was nowhere else to put it.

“Asbury Park!” the driver announced over the intercom as he pulled up to the curb. “We only have time to drop off and pick up passengers. No break time, please. If this is not your final destination, please keep your seats.”

Thomas grabbed his carry-on bag. Two other men were already in the aisle, and he followed them outside. Several passengers walked out of the station and came toward the bus. Thomas stopped on the street and watched them board. Then he looked around. Traffic was roaring past, and the buildings rose tightly along the street.

So this is where Susan went to get away from me. It certainly looks worse than the idea I had of her perhaps joining the Mennonites
. Thomas started walking. Every once in awhile he slowed and stared at the buildings. Suddenly he stopped. Why hadn't he asked for directions to Main Street instead of just setting off? There had to be a better way, and the bus station people would have known about it. He also needed to be able to find his way back. Pulling out a pencil and paper from his bag, he turned and walked back until he could see the bus station. He wrote “10th & Filbert.” That should do for directions back.

Thomas stepped to the curb and looked up and down the street. He didn't see anything in traffic that looked like a taxi. Returning to the bus station, he approached the attendant.

“Sir, are there taxis around here?” he asked.

“I can call one for you,” the man said. “Where do you want to go?”

“Downtown, on Main Street.”

“Then the city bus would be better, son,” the man told him. “The bus stop is two blocks north of here. It will take you right downtown for a lot less money.”

“Can I come back the same way?” Thomas asked.

“Yes, unless you stay too late. They don't run all night.”

“I won't be staying late,” Thomas said. “I have to catch the Greyhound bus back home later today.”

He left and walked the two blocks. He climbed onto the next bus that arrived. “Will this bus take me to Main Street?” he asked, looking at the paper Anna had given him.

“Yes, we'll come pretty close. You'll have to walk a block. I'll signal you when to get off.”

“Thank you,” Thomas said. He moved down the aisle and took a seat by the window. He took his hat off and set it in his lap. Leaning back, he watched as they passed building after building. One section of town did look like a large park, he decided. And a beautiful one at that. Wide-open lawns carried a light dusting of snow. Benches were set up under the trees, but no people strolled about. A few Christmas decorations hung on the lamp posts. Did Susan come out here to walk and relax when the weather was nice? Well, he would have to ask her that question—and several others once he found her.

“This is your stop, young man,” the driver announced as he pulled up to the curb. “Main Street is a block that way,” he said, pointing.

Thomas thanked the man and stepped off the bus.

“Well, Susan!” he muttered out loud. “Here I come.”

Walking up the street, he looked for the address. When he found the building, he was surprised to see there were two doors. One appeared to open into a bakery, the other onto a stairway. He knocked on the stairway door, but there was no response.
Maybe Susan works someplace and won't return until evening
, he thought.
If that's the case, I might miss her. The Greyhound bus leaves at nine. I guess I could stay another day, if worse comes to worse. Susan is worth that much effort, and they'd probably let me change my ticket
.

Uncertainly, he walked toward the bakery. Maybe someone there would know about Susan. A cheerful holiday wreath hung on the door and a small Christmas tree was in the window. On the ceiling were strung paper angels and shepherds, not unlike what the Amish school children made. He entered and saw an attractive, middle-aged woman behind the counter. A younger woman was clearing a table. “May I help you?” the woman behind the counter asked.

“Perhaps,” he replied. “I'm looking for a Susan Hostetler who apparently lives upstairs. Do you know her?”

“Susan?” the woman repeated. Then noticing the young man's clothes and straw hat, she said, “You wouldn't be Thomas, would you?”

“I am,” he said. “Do you know Susan?”

“I'm Laura.” She offered her hand. “Susan worked here. We became quite close. She…um…happened to mention you.”

“Oh!” he said, plunging right ahead with his next question. “Do you know if she'll be back before this evening? I'd like to speak with her.”

“I'm afraid not,” Laura said. “She left for home on the train yesterday, taking a friend and her baby with her.”

“I see.” Thomas said, his disappointment obvious. “Then I missed her.”

“Yes, I'm so sorry,” Laura said. “How long are you staying?”

“I leave tonight on the nine o'clock bus.”

“You're welcome to stay around here if you want. My son, Robby, will be in later. I'm sure he'd like to meet you.”

“Robby?” he asked.

“Yes. He and Susan are friends. We love Susan. We're going to miss her if she decides not to come back.”

“So Robby was with Susan often?”

“They did seem to hit it off quite well. Susan is a wonderful young woman.”

“Thanks,” Thomas said, turning to go. “I think I'll look around town until my bus leaves.”

“There are nice restaurants on Main Street,” Laura said. “And the ocean lies a few blocks east.”

“I appreciate the information,” Thomas said over his shoulder, already halfway across the room.

“We have some Amish buckeye party mix left,” Laura said. “Susan made it. Would you like to have some?”

Thomas paused a moment before saying, “No thanks. I think I should be going.”

The young woman standing beside the tables smiled at him.

“Susan is a real nice girl,” she told him. “I enjoyed getting to know her.”

Thomas nodded, put on his hat, and moved toward the door. It opened before he arrived, and a man came in. A customer, Thomas assumed. He waited until the man passed before stepping out to the street. He turned and walked back the way he came.

His mind was whirling.
What happened to the Susan I knew? She must have really changed to be friends with these people. And she had been making Amish food for them? Maybe I shouldn't have come. I have more questions than before!
“I can't believe this,” Thomas said out loud, stopping to look around. “Susan not only lived here, but she has been seeing an
Englisha
man!”

S
usan sat on the soft seat of the Amtrak train watching the steep grades and valleys of West Virginia's Appalachian Mountains go by. The train climbed the ridges, seeming to cling to the side of the mountain for long stretches before dropping downward again. Baby Samuel was sleeping in Susan's lap, nestling up against her shoulder. Teresa, her face weary, had her seat all the way back in a reclining position.

Christmas was behind them and now their long-planned trip had finally come to pass.

It had been interesting to experience a real
Englisha
Christmas at Laura's.

Susan smiled to imagine if
Mamm
and
Daett
could have seen her standing around Laura's Christmas tree, opening presents, they would have thought for sure they had lost her forever.

She could never tell them how much fun it had been. She had even enjoyed the last minute shopping at the mall, bursting with other last-minutes shoppers.

Back home,
Mamm
and
Daett
would have been gathered around the table having one or two of the older girls and their families over for the big meal. She had missed that, and if she stayed in the
Englisha
world, she would always miss it. Both worlds—the Amish and the
Englisha
—had their own particular delights. If only she could have both.

Jostling the baby only slightly to not awaken him, Susan reclined her seat. Perhaps she could catch a few minutes of sleep before Samuel stirred again. He had been restless all night, but then what could be expected from an infant taken on a long overland trip by two inexperienced girls?

Samuel moved against Susan's chest, and she held still. He rubbed at his closed eyes with his hand, wrinkling his face as if ready to cry. Susan reached for the seat position button but stopped when Samuel settled down. Minutes later he was sleeping again.

Susan closed her eyes and drifted off. She dreamed of open fields, of snow blown in great drifts against a barn door, of struggles to clear a path from the house to the barn, of cows lowing in agony from swollen udders.

She saw her
daett
in front of her, shoveling fast, throwing snow off to the side until the bank was higher than he was. Offering to take her turn, her face wrapped in shawls and mufflers, she felt her fingers becoming colder and colder as she hurled snow. No matter how hard they worked, the wind drove the snow back faster than they could remove it.

“We'll have to get back to the house,” her
daett
said. “It's useless trying to reach the barn.”

Susan turned to look toward the house, and the way back was as bad as the way forward.

“What shall we do?” she gasped.

Her
daett
, the one who knew all the answers, who never hesitated regardless of the circumstances, sat down in the snow and threw up his hands in despair. She was the one who would have to decide.

“The wind will let up in a bit,” she hollered at him. “We can make it then.”

He got to his feet, staggering forward, and fell face down in the snow. She took his hand, pulling him upward, but he didn't move. Kneeling beside him, she tried to listen to his breathing, but she couldn't hear anything in the roar of the wind. Great blinding sheets of snow came over the drifts and already covered her
daett's
legs and hands.

“
Mamm!
” she screamed. She sat bolt upright.

Samuel jumped in her arms and bawled at the top of his voice. Beside her, Teresa too had jolted awake.

“What's wrong? Why did you scream?” Teresa asked, frightened.

“I was dreaming,” Susan said, rocking Samuel gently as his little voice filled the train car.

Irritated faces turned in their direction, and one younger couple whispered to each other.

We must look like a bedraggled traveling party
, Susan thought.
Two young women on the train with a small child, with no husband in sight. And one of us dressed like an Amish girl. Well, that is how it will have to stay
.

Susan's
Englisha
dresses were in the bottom of her suitcase where her
mamm
would never see them. And if she did, Susan hoped she would assume they belonged to Teresa.

Teresa had wanted an Amish type dress for the trip, but Susan didn't think that was the best. It would be
gut
for her
mamm
and
daett
to see Teresa as an
Englisha
girl first. Changes could come later.

“Where are we?” Teresa asked, interrupting her thoughts.

Susan looked at Samuel. He was nestled against her, quiet again. “I'm not sure,” Susan said. “The last I knew we were somewhere in the mountains of West Virginia.”

“I think we still are,” Teresa said, looking out to the window. “How long until we get to Indiana?”

“We'll be getting there late tonight on the bus, which we get on in Cincinnati,” Susan said. “The train doesn't go close enough to Salem.”

“Susan, do you really think they will want me?” Teresa asked, not for the first time.

Susan reached out and touched Teresa's arm. “Of course they do, Teresa. They invited you.”