Missing Your Smile (8 page)

“Perhaps.”

“Well, let me know when you do.”

“While I'm finding that out, why don't you go to church with your mom? Or somewhere else if you don't like her church.”

“You
are
a little missionary. Who would have thought it? A real live Amish missionary.”

“That's not nice,” she said, looking down at the sand. “And you really should go to church. You will have to face God someday, you know.”

“Okay, Missionary Hostetler,” he said, getting to his feet. “Let's go. I'm not quite the savage you think me to be, even if I don't attend church.”

“I didn't say you were one,” she said, following him across the sand.

“I know you didn't,” he said, giving her fingers a quick squeeze in the darkness. “All is forgiven, even if I don't go to church. You want to take another run?”

“Not tonight. I'm tired. And it's been a long day.” She looked out across the water.

The moon was now well above the horizon, casting white light on the waves.

“The moon is still beautiful,” he said, following her gaze. “Even when it's risen. Sometime I'll have to take you sailing at night. There's nothing quite like it, drifting along under the light of the full moon.”

“Another of the secret pleasures of city life?”

“I like to think so,” he said. “At least city life for those of us who live near an ocean.”

They had reached the boardwalk again and paused.

“So, you really do know how to sail?” she asked. “I didn't know you had a boat.”

“Oh,” he laughed. “I rent one. I'm not a Kennedy you know. Only a poor boy whose dad took him out on the water when he was a youngster. We rent boats down at the marina.”

“So your dad taught you? How nice.”

“He doesn't like sailing much, but he took me when I wanted to learn. Now I'm old enough to go by myself.”

“So are you serious about taking me out on a boat at night?”

“You'd really go?”

“Of course. We never did anything like that on the farm. I'll even help pay for it—if it's not too expensive, that is.”

“I'll take you, and you won't have to pay for it. I'll have to reserve the boat in advance though. And we'll have to watch the weather. I don't go out when there's a storm.”

“No, I suppose I'd not want to go in a storm either.”

“Then it's settled,” Robby said.

“By the way, I want you to know how thankful I am for all your family is doing for me,” she said. “It was nice of your mom to give me a place to stay. She didn't have to.”

“Mom's a nice woman—and a nice mother,” he grunted.

“
Yah
, so is mine. And
Daett
is a good father.”

He smiled at her choice of words. “So if the farm was so great and if your parents are so nice, why are you off wandering around in the city by yourself?”

“I'm not really,” she said. “
Da Hah
—the Lord—is with me. I guess I'm following my heart.”

Robby didn't say anything until they had crossed the footbridge again and were back on Cookman.

“Thanks for coming along,” he said. “I enjoyed it.”

“Me too, but I thought it was my idea to go.”

“Oh yeah, I guess it was,” he said, turning toward her, the streetlight shining on his face. “I just tagged along. Can you find your way from here?”

“I think so. Thanks again.”

“It was a pleasure.” He nodded at her and walked away.

She watched him for a few moments and then caught herself. What if he turned and saw her staring at him? It had been a nice night, and he had turned out to be much less of a teaser than he'd pretended to be. Robby even had a deep side to him. He seemed like the brother she never had, but what a strange way to feel about an
Englisha
boy. Could she ever be attracted to an
Englisha
man? It was nice that Robby didn't make her feel nervous like she did around other
Englisha
males.

Susan reached the door to the apartment, digging into her pocket for the key. She unlocked the door, entered, and locked it again. The stairs squeaked on the way up, and Susan took her time on each step. It was a pleasant sound, a reminder of home and a good ending to the evening.

S
usan clicked off the alarm, the gray light from the city seeping in through the window shade. At four o'clock in the morning, the darkness would have been deep at home as the fields waited for the sun. Here no one waited for the sun. It was as if mankind could get along fine without the things God had to give.

Susan pushed back the covers and made her way to the dresser where she struck a match, transferred the flame to the kerosene lamp, and replaced the glass mantle. This hang-up about not using electric lights had to stop. She was no longer home on the farm. Some morning soon she would cross the threshold into
Englisha
lighting. That day, she knew, would mark another big step for her.

Yah
, she told herself as she dressed by the flickering light, why could this not be the morning? Waiting longer wouldn't make it any easier. Taking a deep breath, she whispered, “Goodbye.” Looking back at the kerosene lamp she said, “I will always keep you in my memory.”

She reached over and gently placed her finger on the wall switch. Could she do it? With a breath and a quick count to three, she flipped the switch. Instantly the room was flooded with light. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. So that was it. Not so very hard after all. She
was
moving on, as the
Englisha
would say. Still, this would take some getting used to at four in the morning. She walked over and blew out the kerosene lamp.

Faint noises rose from downstairs. Laura must have arrived for the Monday morning baking, and Susan needed to be downstairs. Breakfast could wait. She was used to that. You did the chores first on the farm, and then you ate.

Flipping the light switch to off, Susan went down to the bakery. “Good morning!” she called as she considered announcing her triumph of the morning.
I finally turned on the electric lights!

“Good morning, dear,” Laura answered as Susan made her way to the back of the bakery. “My, you're cheery for a Monday morning.”

“No late nights for me,” Susan said with a grin. “And don't forget, I'm used to early mornings.”

“That's my girl,” Laura said. “And I'm glad you're ready to work. We'll likely have part of the after-festival crowd show up this morning. Seems the visitors stay around for Monday morning—at least enough of them to make for a busy day.”

“I wonder if the older couple got to see the moon rise over the ocean,” Susan said, measuring out flour.

“I was thinking about Robby,” Laura said. “He said he enjoyed himself, but he wouldn't tell me more. Like usual.”

“I gather from what he said he used to go to the ocean more often,” Susan offered.

“He did,” Laura said. “But things have changed for him—and not for the best. I wish he'd get things right with the Lord.”

Susan poured milk into the mixer and turned it on. “He seems to have a tender heart.”

“Yes, he's always been that way.” Laura brushed the back of her hand across her eyes.

“You left flour on your face,” Susan said.

“Oh great. That would look funny to the customers,” Laura said with a laugh as she wiped her face with a dishtowel.

“
Mamm
used to end up with flour on her face every time she set foot in the kitchen,” Susan said. “Somehow it made the food taste better. At least that's what
Daett
always said. Perhaps we just grew up believing it because he said so.”

“Someday I'm going to have to visit your folks. They sound like nice people.”

“They are,” Susan agreed as she reached to turn on the oven.

“I'll be right back,” Laura said, stepping out of the kitchen to service the now empty display cases. Moments later she returned carrying the empty trays, dumping them into the sink.

Susan pulled the first batch of rolls from the oven and slid them onto the counter to cool.

“What cookies are we offering today?” Susan asked. “I can get those started.”

“I think peanut butter, Tollhouse, gingersnaps, and macaroons,” Laura said.

Moments later Laura left for the front again to start filling the urns of coffee so they'd be ready to turn on just before the bakery opened. Susan began the gingersnaps, stopping only to take the finished sweet rolls from the oven.

She drew in a long breath over them. These did smell
gut
.
Perhaps this morning is special? A day of new beginnings? But then perhaps I'm imagining things. Perhaps turning on electric lights for the first time could do strange things to a person
.

Laura returned. They worked together in silence, rushing at the last minute to finish filling the display cases before the first customer walked through the door. Susan pulled on a freshly washed white apron a few minutes before six. A quick glance in Laura's direction brought a smile of encouragement.

“I'll get cleaned up myself,” Laura said. “We've done really well this morning.”

Laura walked over to the coffee urns lined up on the counter, throwing the switches before disappearing into the back office.

“You look dreamy this morning,” Laura said, returning in a few minutes with a fresh apron on.

“I think today I shall buy a purse!” Susan announced with a laugh.

Laura smiled. “That's right. I don't think I noticed you don't own one. You might find some nice ones in the local stores, but the better buys are at the mall. If you like, we can go tonight. My evening is free.”

Susan's face brightened. “That would be wonderful. Thank you!” She pulled open the front door and set the doorstop. She turned to face a tall young man who walked in with a smile on his face.

“Good morning,” he said in a chipper voice.

Susan felt a flush spread up her neck. He was
gut
looking and even more. She guessed he could almost have been raised on a farm. She could even picture him in Amish clothing. But she shouldn't be thinking about such things. She hardly knew him, and he might even be married. How could she think such worldly thoughts?

Susan made her way behind the cases where the man was surveying the rolls. “I think,” he said, slowly, “I'll have a bear claw and an apple fritter. Oh, and coffee—black—please.”

Susan used metal tongs to put the bear claw and apple fritter onto a plate. She grabbed a paper cup and drew his cup of coffee.

At the register she said, “That'll be four seventy-five.”

As he paid, he noticed Laura, nodded to her, took his change, and made his way to a table where he settled with a newspaper.

The front door opened again, and two more people came in, followed by an older couple and then another single man. Quickly a line was formed. Susan and Laura were kept busy.

Busy as she was, Susan stole an occasional glance at the man with his newspaper. Why was she thinking about men so much this morning? She really wasn't interested, even in light of her bold words to Robby on the beach. Had she actually said she would keep her heart open? Well, it wasn't going to be taken on Monday morning by an
Englisha
man in Laura's shop. That was for sure.

The newspaper truck went by the window, and a paper banged against the front window. Laura liked the paper brought in right away since footprints on the headlines didn't make for easy reading.

“Excuse me,” she said to the two ladies in front of her. They were taking their time deciding, looking and whispering to each other as if world peace depended on their choices that morning.

Susan retrieved the paper from the sidewalk and made her way back to the display cases.