Missing Your Smile (6 page)

Thomas had seemed to be the answer. From their school days, Thomas hadn't wasted any time getting his word in for Susan. Had the boy misjudged his own abilities? Or was he simply unable to keep the girl? From the sounds of it, Thomas had rejected Susan, which was strange indeed.

Perhaps he should have interceded with Thomas and Susan when the problem first came up a month or so ago. But it had seemed best not to. Young people needed to work out their own problems, especially when it came to things of the heart. If older people intervened, it often made things worse. Even Anna hadn't disagreed with him on that point. It was just later, when things had gone so badly, that she had her doubts.

Swinging the lantern, Menno went into the kitchen, squinting his eyes. How he did miss Susan's cheery smile around the place! He held the lantern aloft, searching for the hook driven into the ceiling. Finding it, he flipped the loop over it and let the weight of the lantern move out of his hands.

“Supper's ready,” Anna said.

“That was quick,” Menno said, sitting down and pulling his chair forward.

“There's not much to eat—just leftovers.”

“I'm not complaining.” Menno patted his stomach. It wasn't overly rolling, but perhaps some humor would help. He glanced up at her face. It was nice to see Anna smile, even if faintly.

They bowed their heads in silence, and when they raised them again, Anna dished the food out for him. She didn't have to serve him tonight, but Menno allowed it, sensing that it helped her now that she had no children to mother.

“Thank you,” Menno said, when she was done. “You always know exactly how much I want.”

“If it makes you feel better, perhaps you can care for me someday.” Anna turned back to her own plate.

“Cheer up.” Menno reached over to tickle her chin. “We have many more years together, and so many family members still to be thankful for.”

She nodded, trying to smile.

“Are there any family gatherings planned soon?” he asked. “We need to have more of them.”

“Perhaps some of the girls will come over Sunday evening. I don't know. Would that help?”

“It would do us both good,” Menno agreed, watching her face.

She tried to smile again, losing the attempt.

“If our youngest just hadn't turned out so badly,” she said. “What did we do wrong, Menno? And Susan was the best of the bunch.”

“We'll make it,” Menno said getting up and rubbing her back. “We will…with
Da Hah
's help. And Susan will come home again.”

Anna didn't meet his eyes as he returned to his place and sat down. Silence settled over the table as they ate.

When Menno stood, Anna said, “We have to butcher soon. I think several of the girls will go together with us. We can take the hog over to John and Betsy's place since they have plenty of room.”

Menno nodded, his eyes focused on the blank wall. He imagined the big city. What was the place like where Susan lived?

S
usan stirred, raising her head from the table and noting the light of the kerosene lamp. She picked up the envelope from home and held it so the light fell across the front. For a long moment, she studied the letters before opening the end with a quick twist of her hand. A single piece of paper came out. At least it wasn't a long letter. The pressure from home wouldn't be too bad.

My dearest daughter Susan
,

Greetings in the name of
Da Hah
. I am sitting here tonight, trying to write you something, but what can I write? I imagine you understand how it goes. We all miss you quite terribly. Your smile is no longer here to brighten our day. I hear a noise in the house and I look up expecting to see your face, but you are not here
.

How are you doing? I hope well. Bonnie's sister surely must be taking good care of you
.

Betsy and Miriam stopped by last week, and Ada's children are up once in a while. All the sisters said to tell you hi when I write next. I offered them your address, but they aren't the greatest letter writers. I think the real reason is they don't know how to write you, now that you have gone
Englisha
. Have you considered returning yet? We so wish you would
.

Are you really going the
Englisha
way, Susan? It's so hard for me to believe you would. I keep thinking there is some mistake somewhere. Did you or didn't you say when you left that your stay in New Jersey would be only until the winter or perhaps spring? The words seem so long ago, lost somewhere in the pain of my heart, and I can't remember
.

I know I shouldn't be taking this so hard, as you no doubt have your reasons for your actions, but I can't help myself. I can't help asking again and again, was there really no way you could have patched things up with Thomas, whatever your quarrel was? He looked so sorrowful in church the other Sunday. I never heard a word from him on what the problem was, so I guess you can be thankful for that. Some boys feel a need to run down their old girlfriends' reputations until they are ruined
.

The fall weddings are beginning. Pete and Rose had theirs announced on Sunday. I expect there will be several more. Your
daett
is well along with his fall plowing, and the silo-filling crew was here last week. Somehow your
daett
still makes his rounds with the crew. I think it's time he asked Deacon Ray if he doesn't know of some young boy who can help us on the farm next year. I doubt if your father will agree to such a thing. He is stubborn like you are
.

I guess I had better close before I get the paper wet with tears. I really hope you come home soon, Susan. There has to be some way to work your problems out with Thomas. If not, there's still no reason to run away from all of us. Your room still awaits you upstairs. I have left it just as it was when you left
.

“
Mamm
,” Susan whispered in the silent apartment, folding the piece of paper, “please don't make this any harder than it already is. And of course Thomas is acting like a saint. He thinks he is one. Just wait until you discover he's dating Eunice, and you'll find out what he's really like.”

Standing up, Susan forced her thoughts to focus.
Right now I have to fix supper. Think on that. And afterward, I need something—perhaps a walk to the beach. I could watch the moon rise over the water, which might be exactly what I need to lift my spirits. You can make it, Susan. You can make the city your home. I know you can. Keep that chin up now, and you'll be okay
.

She walked over to the gas stove, turned on the burner, and reached for the frying pan. Thank
Da Hah
Laura had a gas stove. The microwave always seemed to glare at Susan from its place over the stove, its red blinking light showing the time. That was another barrier she had yet to cross. What must it be like to heat food with invisible rays from the
Englisha
world? Dangerous and scary, to say the least.

Susan took the meatloaf out of the refrigerator, sliced two pieces, and added a chunk of butter to the pan. She dropped the meatloaf slices into the pan, leaving them to warm while she retrieved the bread and jam from the pantry. Setting the items on the table, she stood beside the stove, listening to the sizzle. When the pieces were browned on one side, she flipped them over.

It was a meager supper by Amish standards, but good enough for tonight. When the meat was ready, Susan transferred it to the table and sat down. She closed her eyes to pray. One must pray over meals even in
Englisha
land. Perhaps especially in
Englisha
land.

Outside, the day was ebbing. The streetlights would soon be turning on. What time did the moon rise over the ocean? The man hadn't said, and she might well be too late already. But it didn't matter, really. Even a risen moon over the water would fit her mood better than a lonely apartment.

When she was finished, Susan dumped the plate and utensils into the kitchen sink and grabbed her coat from the closet. Was the key in her pocket?
Yah
, and this time she wouldn't lose it. Was the sky clear? It was hard to tell with the streetlights on, but earlier there hadn't been a cloud in the sky.

Closing the door behind her, Susan walked down Main Street, turning the corner at Cookman. The crowds had thinned out some, and the people were walking slower now. It might be a good idea to stop in at the concession stand and tell Laura where she was going. Not that she was back at the farm anymore or even a teenager who needed to report on her actions, but old habits die hard.

“So what are you doing out?” Laura asked when Susan walked up. “I thought I let you off for the night.”

“She couldn't sleep,” Robby said with a laugh.

Susan didn't look at him. He deserved to be ignored.

“I decided to take a walk to the ocean,” she said. “There's supposed to be a full moon tonight.”

“That would be nice,” Laura said. “I wish I could go along, but we have to close up the stand.”

“Then I should help,” Susan offered.

Laura shook her head. “Robbie, your dad just called and said he was coming after all, so there's no need for you to stay. Why not go ahead and enjoy a walk with Susan?”

“But I don't need…” Susan started to say.

“I'll go with her,” Robby interrupted, swinging out over the side of the stand.

“No, you won't!” Susan glared at him. “You need to help your mom close up.”

“Can I, Mom?” he turned to look over his shoulder, a mischievous look on his face.

“We'll manage,” Laura said. “So run along, unless Susan objects for some reason.”

“See!” Robby gave Susan a sweet smile. “I'm a good boy. Can I come along, please?”

“If you don't tease too much—and don't talk.”

“I'm as
mum
as a clam.” He clamped his fingers over his mouth, his next words mere mumbles. “See, not a sound comes out.”

“Okay,” Susan said unable to conceal a laugh. “But don't forget.”

Robby followed closely behind as she led the way. He was a funny boy, almost like a brother, Susan thought. But what was a brother like? When one had eight sisters, it was hard to tell.

They walked in silence through the ever-thinning crowd. People seemed to have moved back toward the main part of town…or perhaps out to the boardwalk. Robby was keeping his vow of silence—too much so.

“Talk,” she ordered, and he laughed.

“It's closer down this side street,” Robby motioned with his head.

Susan glanced down the dimly lit street. It didn't look any scarier than the barn at home or any number of other dark places on the farm. The feeling was different here though—in ways that were hard to explain.

“Do you think we should?”

“Sure, why not?”

“The street is dark.”

“So? Does it never get dark where you grew up?”

“I told you no teasing, remember?” she said, though she had to smile. So this was what having a brother is like.

“So do you want to?” he asked again.

“Sure, why not!”

“Don't be scared,” he said when they were halfway down the street. “Do you have bogeymen on the farm back home…like we do here?”

Susan looked around. The light barely reached her, the shadows dark on the concrete sidewalls. Little squeaks came from somewhere, sounding like rats in the barn loft. But why would there be rats here in Asbury Park? “No bogeymen. Just witches and warlocks,” she said.

“That's really cute,” he said. “Miss Hostetler just made a joke.”

“Who says it's a joke? It might be true.”

“So you have Amish brooms, and you ride them through the dark Amish cornfields?”

“The fresh corn patches work best,” she said. “When the corn's about knee high. Otherwise the tall stalks gets tangled up in the broom handle.”