Missing Your Smile

by Jerry S. Eicher

  “Oh! I’m not sure I want to open it. What if I didn’t pass? That would spoil this wonderful evening I’ve had with Robby.”

  “Oh, go ahead! You know you want to open it!” Robby encouraged.

  Susan took small steps toward the kitchen table and reached for the letter. She opened it, read a few lines, and then handed it to Laura.

  Glancing over the paper, Laura smiled. “You passed! And with a really good grade.”

  “Yes!” Susan shrieked. “I passed!” She grabbed Robby and gave him a hug. “I passed! I can’t believe it.”

  “Well, you deserved to pass. You studied hard, Susan. Congratulations!” Laura said.

  “Yes, way to go!” Robby said.

  After a brief pause, Susan said, “It’s been a wonderful but long day. I think I’ll turn in after I check on Teresa and Samuel. Goodnight!”

  “Goodnight, dear!” Laura said.

  “Happy dreams of home!” Robby said.

  Susan slipped into the living room and stood for a moment in front of the lighted Christmas tree. It was so beautiful and so not Amish. She would always cherish this memory of an Englisha Christmas with Laura and her family.

  Susan moved up the stairs clutching her test results. She knocked quietly then opened the door to the bedroom. Teresa was asleep. Susan tiptoed up to the crib. Samuel was also fast asleep, lying on his back, his arms spread wide.

  “Goodnight, Samuel!” she whispered. “Sweet dreams little boy.”

  Later, back in her apartment, she pulled out paper and pen to write a letter home.

  Dear Mamm and Daett,

  Christian greetings.

  We are all doing well here in Asbury Park and will soon be heading home after Christmas. Thanks so much for your invitation to Teresa. She accepted the offer even before her son arrived, and now baby Samuel is with us. The doctor thinks baby and mother can travel before long.

  I plan to buy tickets for all of us soon. I expect it will be by train for most of the way and then by Greyhound. That’s how I came to Asbury, and I see no reason to change. Our travel time will be after Christmas, so I hope we can still find tickets even with all the holiday travelers.

  Just to warn you, Teresa has gotten it into her head that she wants to become Amish. I told her that would be okay, and that you would approve because you mentioned that in your letter. I hope to see you soon. I will let Edna know by phone once I have our exact arrival time.

  My best to you. I love you.

  Your daughter, Susan

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  Thomas drove his buggy south from his parents’ place, taking his time. Surely Susan will come home over Christmas, he thought. “When is Susan coming back?” several of his aunts had asked again yesterday during dinner at his grandparents’ place. He’d just shaken his head. There was no sense in letting them know he didn’t know. They knew he had broken up with Susan, but thankfully not about the reason why or the Sunday evening he’d spent with Eunice. That still appeared to be a secret. Likely the aunts expected his quarrel with Susan to be on the mend. Well, it wasn’t. And since he wouldn’t see Eunice again, it was time for a talk with Susan.

  Even if Susan were home already, he wondered if she’d speak with him. He could wait until Sunday, and see if she paid him any attention at the hymn singing, but that had its own risk. How could one be certain about such matters? And how much time might be wasted trying to figure things out in advance?

  A troubling thought raced through his mind. Had Eunice been right about Susan? Had she been living wild while spending her time in the Englisha world? Surely she had not. Susan wasn’t like that.

  He slapped the reins and pushed the fear away. The time had come to be a man and face things. He would apologize and see if amends could be made. He could have asked his mamm to obtain Susan’s address from her mamm so he could write but that wasn’t the right way to approach this. Besides, he wasn’t a letter writer. He needed to speak to Susan in person.

  Up ahead he saw the Hostetler farm surrounded by open fields. He was south of the buildings. He’d brought Susan to this vantage point so many times on Sunday afternoons and evenings. He paused. Susan’s bedroom was on the second floor, on the other side of the house. She wouldn’t be able to see him approach…if she was even home. The kitchen windows were on this side of the house, so anyone there would see him coming. He moved on. He would have to suffer the indignity of being rejected if that was what awaited him. Susan was worth the effort. He’d been a fool to let her slip away.

  Thomas turned into the driveway. He tied Freddy to the hitching post by the barn. He pulled out the buggy blanket and draped it over the horse’s back to protect him against the morning chill. He looked around on the short walk to the front door. Menno kept the farm up well for his age, but that would end soon enough. The man was getting old. Thomas reminded himself that instead of having these troubles with Susan, he should have been spending these past weeks making wedding plans and even building Menno and Anna’s dawdy haus. He noticed there were still the same cracks in the concrete walkway. The green strings of grass that had managed to poke through in summer were now gone. Broken brown stems lay sideways, the roots still clinging to the sparse soil. Stepping over them, he knocked on the front door.

  It was opened almost at once by Anna, her white apron tied to her waist.

  “Yes, Thomas?” she asked with a smile.

  He cleared his throat. “Would Susan be home yet?”

  Anna shook her head. “No, she’s not home yet.”

  He let disappointment show. “Won’t she be home over Christmas this year?”

  “We don’t know,” Anna said. “I hope to receive a letter from Susan any day now.”

  “Is there some way I can reach her?” he asked. I might as well do what can be done, he figured.

  Anna shrugged. “You could write, I suppose. I can give you her address.”

  Thomas ran the tip of his shoe over the steps, chasing two broken leaves around in circles.

  “I’m not much of a letter writer,” he admitted.

  “I can let Susan know you stopped by when I write to her next,” Anna said.

  “I really need to speak with her,” he persisted. “Does she ever call? Or can I call her from the phone shack?”

  Anna’s eyes brightened at Thomas’s interest. “Nee, she has only called Edna once. She writes occasionally, Thomas. It’s been awhile since you’ve talked of Susan. We thought perhaps the relationship was over. But I’m glad to see you’re still interested.”

  “I know I haven’t done the best by her lately,” he said. “And I’m sorry.”

  “We all make mistakes,” Anna said. “Menno and I would love it if you had a chance to speak with her, but I don’t know how it can be done unless you wish to visit her.”

  He thought for a moment. “Maybe that would be an idea. Can I have her address just in case? I’m not saying I’ll go, but I’ll consider it.”

  “Certainly,” Anna said. “If you’ll step inside, I’ll get the address for you.”

  Thomas followed her inside and closed the door. He stood quietly while Anna went into the living room. Moments later she returned with a piece of paper.

  “Here’s the address.”

  “I see,” Thomas said, taking the paper and glancing at it. “Thanks. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Thank you for stopping by,” Anna said. “I hope things work out.”

  Thomas turned to leave, and Anna stood at the door for a moment. When he glanced back after pulling the blanket off Freddy, Anna was gone. Climbing in the buggy, he slapped the reins and drove out.

  Is this idea wise? he wondered. Do I have time to drive all the way into Salem for details on bus fares? Yah, I do, he decided. Susan is worth the effort. He turned his horse north toward Salem, pushing Freddy hard.

  I will go to see Susan in Asbury Park. The trip will be worth every minute.

  Susan should be deeply impressed with his devotion. If he w
aited until she returned—whenever that might be—the effect wouldn’t be the same. She would likely greet him the same as before, with closed doors and snubbed visits.

  Thomas drove through the edge of town and parked at the gas station with a little Greyhound sign hanging in the window. With a firm step he approached the lady at the front desk.

  “I’d like to inquire on the bus schedule to Asbury Park, New Jersey,” he said.

  “Asbury Park, New Jersey,” the lady repeated. “Let’s see. I can put you on a bus early tomorrow morning that would get you into Asbury Park two days later. How will that work?”

  He thought for a moment. “How soon can I leave after Christmas?”

  She ran her fingers over the schedule page before answering. “The day after, if you want. So will it be a ticket to and from Asbury Park?”

  “Yes,” he said, pulling out his billfold. “And I can board the bus in Livonia? Our people do that all the time.”

  She nodded and printed the ticket.

  The slow whine of the Greyhound engine rang in his ears, monotonous and irritating. Thomas slouched lower in his seat, the early morning sun glaring through the window. More sleep was out of the question, which didn’t matter anyway. Asbury Park was the next stop.

  What a name for a town, he thought. Is there even a park? He sighed as he looked out the window. Businesses were visible here and there with residential homes in between. What a dreary place to live, brightened up, he supposed, by the many Christmas lights flickering through the windows of the houses. Off in the distance a faint sheen of water glimmered. At least the ocean is close by. That might be interesting.

  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 t
he 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!”

  CHAPTER FORTY

  Susan 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.