Missing Your Smile (9 page)

“The headlines aren't good,” the bear claw and apple fritter man said as she went by.

Of course they aren't
, Susan thought.
Since when are headlines good?
Hesitating, she stopped by the man's table. Hadn't Laura always said to present a friendly demeanor to customers? This was being friendly, even if he was
gut
looking.

“Headlines are seldom good,” she said without looking directly at him.

“Yes, but they're particularly bad this morning,” he said. “I just thought I'd warn you. I suppose everyone will be taking precautions for a while.”

Susan unfolded the paper. The front-page letters seemed blacker and larger than usual, jumping out at her, grabbing her attention. When she gasped, the man said, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. Obviously you hadn't heard.”

“No.” She drew her breath in. “Do women disappear every day off the streets here?”

“I take it you're not from around here,” he said. “Asbury Park is usually a nice city, but like all big cities…” His voice drifted off, the final words unsaid.

“No, I'm new,” Susan said. She stopped. Should she have said that much to a stranger? With local women disappearing, shouldn't she be careful?

“I thought you were new. I know Laura pretty well,” he said. “Though I haven't been here that much lately.”

“I started here a couple of weeks ago.”

“Like I said, I don't come in that often these days.”

Susan lingered a second and then said, “Well, I have to get back to work.”

The two older women were turned toward her, displeased looks on their faces.

“Have you decided?” she asked the ladies as she made her way behind the display case.

“One small cinnamon roll for me,” one of the ladies said. “And a lemon twist for my sister. Two coffees.”

“Well, the rolls are all about the same size and price,” Susan said. “But I can pick out the smallest one, if you'd like.”

“That will be fine,” the woman said, waiting as Susan made the selections and placed them on plates.

“Who ever heard of such a thing?” the other whispered as they moved away. “Why wouldn't you have small rolls for people who want them? And charge less for them?”

The women moved toward a table as the man Susan had been speaking to got up and left.
Not even a backward glance
, Susan noted.
But why should I care? Perhaps he is the kidnapper mentioned on the front page of the paper
. That would make perfect sense given the success she had with men.

Laura and Susan waited on more customers. During a lull, Susan asked, “Who was that man who came in first this morning? He said he knew you.”

“Duane Moran. He works down the street at H&R Block. He handles our taxes. I think he was away at a seminar last week—IRS updates on tax law, that sort of thing.”

“Oh,” Susan said.

What exactly is a tax person?
she wondered.
At least he wasn't a kidnapper
.

“Duane's a really nice fellow,” Laura said.

“He did mention the headlines with what happened over the weekend. He seemed concerned about us.”

“What happened?” Laura asked. She reached for the paper. As she read, she sighed. “This is absolutely awful. And the missing girl was last seen on Cookman Avenue the first night of the festival.”

“I hadn't read that,” Susan said. “But perhaps they'll find her soon.” So much for Robby's assurances on how safe Asbury Park was.

“Perhaps,” Laura was saying. “One thing for sure. You will need to take precautions for a while. We all will.”

“That's what Mister…Mister whatever you said his name was said.”

“Duane. Yes. He would say something like that. And it is a good warning.”

Susan nodded. “I hope they find the woman. As for me, I think God will protect me even in the big city. That's what our people believe.”

Laura was silent for a moment, but then she said, “Yes, but there's no sense in taking chances, Susan. So don't take any.”

“I'll be careful,” Susan said. “But I'm not going to be scared home this easily. I need to stay.”

“I didn't mean anything about going home, but perhaps you could move in with us for a while if being alone here scares you.”

Susan shook her head. “Thanks, but I like it here. I even like living alone. So unless it gets really dangerous, I would like to stay in the apartment.”

“Okay,” Laura said. “Suit yourself, but do be careful.”

Susan nodded and turned to greet a teenage girl entering the front door. “Can I help you?”

“A small coffee, please, ma'am.”

Susan poured the coffee and said, “Laura will take your money.”

“Okay.”

As the girl turned toward the register counter, Susan noticed that she was obviously pregnant. And quite well along. She also noticed the girl's dress was wrinkled and dirty. Susan glanced away. This really wasn't her business.

The girl looked back to Susan and smiled as she handed Laura the money, dropping a quarter in the process.

“Oh, I'm sorry!” The girl bent over to chase the coin underneath the counter. She was breathing hard when she stood up.

“I'll help you with your coffee.” Susan stepped out from behind the counter.

“That would be very nice of you, ma'am,” the girl said. “I am a little heavy, as you can see.”

“
Yah
, I do see,” Susan said. “Is your baby coming soon?”

“I think so,” the girl said, sounding uncertain.

Susan almost asked her another question but thought better of it. The girl was trying to smile, but she looked very uncomfortable. Susan noticed the girl's eyes had grown moist as she took a table facing the counter. Susan felt the girl's eyes on her the whole time she worked.
Is something wrong?
Susan wondered.
What is it about me that's captured her attention?

When the girl finished, she walked over to where Susan was standing behind the counter.

“I thank you very much,” the girl said. “That was good.”

“Maybe we'll see some more of you,” Susan said. “You're always welcome back.”

“That's very kind of you,” the girl said, her eyes moist again. “I think I will be back.” With that, the girl smiled, ducked her head, and left.

T
homas Stoll stood looking out the tall windows of his father's cabinet shop, his eyes sweeping over the fertile farmland. Southern Indiana was that way. An Amish farmer here could make a
gut
living at most anything he tried his hand at. It was cabinet work that was hard to make a good living at, removed as they were from the big cities.

The little town of Salem thought well of itself but produced few new homes or remodeling jobs.
Daett
refused to advertise widely, placing only a small sign out by the side of the gravel road and an even smaller one out on Highway 337, as if that made any sense. He wouldn't even put “Amish” above the name. They just read “Cabinet shop,” as if that alone would attract interest.

When would this ever end? Was his life to be spent from grade school to the grave toiling in his father's cabinet shop, keeping the business open, sending cabinets out the door one after another? Sure the work kept a little money in the bank, but working inside was nothing compared to the feeling of working his own land—land like so many others in the community had. Thomas surveyed the open fields, allowing the fantasy of his own farm to flow through his mind.

With a farm there would be fields of corn in the summer. Corn which gave enough to fill a towering silo. There would be waves of golden wheat in the fall growing next to green pasture grass. There would be cows—a herd of twenty or so, hanging around the barn, their udders sagging with milk. There would be a hay wagon to drive down the dirt roads. And all the while, the glorious feeling of being closer to the earth, to
Da Hah
, to life itself.

In his fantasy, Thomas could see himself able to afford a
gut
horse at the sale barn. A driving horse who could pass buggies coming home on Sunday nights from the hymn singing. Instead he had to drive Freddy, his slow gelding around and watch as other buggies passed him, pulled by fast horses purchased with farm money.

Sure, Freddy was okay, and he shouldn't be complaining.
Daett
would be horrified at his unthankfulness.
Daett
always said
Da Hah
gave and
Da Hah
took, and one did not ask questions
. Freddy was a decent horse and not that old. He never shied on the road or jumped fences in the barnyard, but a good trot was the limit of his preferable speed.

Thomas's thoughts turned to Susan. He remembered how she had never complained about Freddy's slowness the many times he'd taken her home on Sunday nights. Thomas sighed as he ran sandpaper over the grainy walnut wood. He was twenty-one now and on his own. He was old enough to buy what he wanted, but a fast horse wouldn't be a wise investment on the limited income from the cabinet shop. Especially if he hoped to marry soon. Sure, he could put his money into the purchase of a farm, but farming was difficult work to learn if a person hadn't been raised on one. He needed someone to teach him.

Was that why he was drawn to Susan? The thought turned inside him, but he pushed it away. It was not a fair question. Since grade school he had loved Susan, and there had been no thought of a farm back then. Only lately had it dawned on him what would happen after their marriage. He would be moving onto her family farm. If there had been any doubt about the matter, Susan's father, Menno, had alluded to the fact last Thanksgiving over the noon meal.

“We are hoping you'll be up to taking the farm over soon. After the wedding of course,” Menno had said. They had all laughed at the hurried reference to the wedding.

Susan had looked at him, happiness written on her face.

“It's a nice farm,” Susan whispered in his ear later. They had held hands that night on the couch and talked far into the night after the others were in bed.

“I don't know anything about farming. I'm a cabinetmaker,” he said.

“You can learn. Don't you want to be a farmer, Thomas?”

“Of course I do. I've just never had the chance.”

“Then the chance will be coming your way soon,” she said, her fingers tracing his face. “I know you'll make a
gut
farmer. As good as what
Daett
is himself.”

But that was then. Where is Susan now? Living somewhere in New Jersey
. That was the word passed around in the community. He didn't dare ask Menno or Anna. They might be on Susan's side after his foolish actions. The thing with Susan had gone badly enough, and he wouldn't risk more by seeming to use them to pressure their daughter.

What in the world had come over him anyway? A few minutes of talking outside in the shadows of Emery Yoder's house, and he had given in to the sudden urge to kiss Eunice. And Susan had caught him in the act! Their future life together was over. He sighed again.

Yah
, what Susan blamed him for had happened, but it wasn't as bad as Susan claimed.
Yah
, Susan's friend Eunice was impressive, and he had fallen hard for her. But it was not supposed to mean anything. Certainly it was not meant to break off the relationship he had with Susan. Even if Eunice liked him in return.

Thomas laughed. According to Susan's version of things, he ought to be seeing Eunice now. But what a joke that was. He wasn't in love with the girl. Impressed?
Yah
. Taken by her?
Yah
. But not in love. And Susan hadn't helped things with all the praise she had heaped on Eunice when she and her family first arrived.

“Eunice is just the funniest girl I've ever met,” Susan had said. “She and I can share almost anything. Eunice has some of the best pearls of wisdom to give. She knows so much about life.”