Missing Your Smile (33 page)

Math!
Susan sighed and turned back to the problems, scribbling the answers on her paper in pencil and then checking them when she was done. Most of them were correct. English she was good at, but these math equations were a little complicated. Amish math lessons didn't reach into the realm of symbols. It stayed with plain adding, subtracting, dividing, and multiplying. Like much of Amish life, even in education they stuck with the basics.

Perhaps Duane would help me with math. Do I dare ask him? Maybe. I'll see how it goes
. Exposing one's ignorance to a man was a little scary—especially to such a handsome man.
Is he getting serious about me? Likely not. He hasn't even kissed me. And don't
Englisha
men kiss women fairly quickly and often?
Yah,
they did
.

Thomas had never kissed her in all the time they'd known each other—except once. It had happened when she agreed to marry him. He had kissed her then, a slight touch on the lips, almost like he was afraid of her. His hands had brushed her shoulders, leaving without a hug. She had wanted a hug. Shouldn't a woman at least get a hug on her engagement evening? And here he had gone kissing Eunice the first chance he got.

She knew Thomas found her attractive. At least his eyes said so… and his words. But what were his words worth? Not much, from how things had turned out.

Math!
she reminded herself. Susan turned back to the paper. She must study math. A thump came from the street below. Had Duane arrived? She walked to the top of the stairs to listen. She heard nothing else, so she walked over to the window and looked out. Everything was normal, the flow of traffic on the street ebbing after the evening rush hour.

It must have been street noise
, Susan thought, glancing back toward her work on the kitchen table. Sighing, she stayed at the window. If she thought life was confusing, how must Teresa feel? Teresa was expecting a child. Now that would be confusion—with no husband around and her mother not wanting her to keep the child. How did the young woman find the strength to do what she did? To believe at all? To hope there could be a better life for her child? What bravery Teresa had.

Perhaps that was why Teresa had latched on to the image of the Amish. It was something she could see—the buggies on TV, the bearded men with their women beside them. They were together, secure, and at home on their farms. The wash flapping in the wind, the children underfoot, people loved and protected. No wonder the girl grabbed for straws! And she had no idea how hopeless her idea of finding an Amish family for her son might ultimately be.

Would I have that kind of courage in a similar situation? Going
Englisha
had been more about running away than believing in anything. But
yah,
I came looking for love—still believing it can be found even after my heart was stomped on. Isn't that courage? A little at least! But compared to Teresa's, it doesn't seem like much
.

Now here she was, standing at the window and staring out and Duane just pulled up to the curb. He would think she'd been waiting for him, longing for his presence. Susan laughed. The one time she moved to the window, Duane showed up. Great. She grabbed her purse and was halfway down the stairs when the knock came.

She opened the door. “Good evening, Duane.”

Duane nodded. “Good evening, Susan.” He took in her dress.

“You don't mind the Amishness, do you?” she asked.

“No. You look great. In fact, you are one of the only girls I know who looks good in an Amish dress!”

“I doubt you know any other girls who wear Amish dresses.”

“True,” he said as they walked to his car. “But it was supposed to be a compliment anyway.”

As they secured their seat belts, Duane spoke. “How did your day go?”

“The usual. Robby came by this evening for another driving lesson. They aren't quite as scary anymore. For me or for Robby.”

“He gives you driving lessons?”

“Yes. Well, sort of. The first one was mostly a lesson. The rest of the time it's just me driving and him telling me which way to turn.”

“You know you could go to a driving school.”

“Laura and Robby didn't mention that. I suppose it's expensive.”

“Safe though.” He raised his eyebrows. “You haven't wrecked Robby's car, have you?”

“Not yet! Don't tease me.”

“Sorry. I was kidding, of course.”

“Okay.” Susan took a deep breath.

“I'm glad you could come,” he said.

“It's nice of you to invite me out again so soon. And I think I figured out what I can shop for tonight.”

“What is it?”

“Something for Teresa's baby. Wouldn't that be just the thing? The poor girl is in so much trouble. My heart really goes out to her.”

“So you've been caught up in one of Laura's charity projects?” he said.

“Is that what they are? Remember, the young woman came to
me
at the bakery for help.”

“You and Laura have soft hearts,” he said. “That is good. Laura is a great woman—and so are you for caring.”

“Maybe I'm Laura's charity project,” Susan said.

He laughed. “Then she picked a good one. Although, believe me, you are no charity project. I'm sure Laura finds you a great help.”

“I hope so.”

“And the Amish don't have sordid pasts. Not like Teresa does anyway, right?”

“No.” Susan felt warmth pushing up her neck. What if he knew about the suspicions that she might be arousing at home? That was enough to make anyone feel dirty all the way through.

“I didn't expect so,” he said. “I guess that's one of the good points.”

“Rumors can also be hurtful,” she said. “And Amish aren't exempt from them.”

“Do have you some floating around? That's hard to imagine,” he said, smiling.

“It's not funny,” Susan said.

“I know,” he said. “I'm sorry I gave you that impression.”

“I suppose I'm just touchy on the subject. See, if you go into the
Englisha
world, folks back home start talking about you pretty easily.”

“That
Englisha
thing is funny,” he said. “The
Englisha
. It sounds like the invasion of 1812.”

“Now that is funny!” she said. “We studied the war in eighth grade social studies. We use the word
Englisha
to describe outsiders. I don't know how someone would change that. Even if it doesn't make sense to you, it makes sense to us.”

“I see,” he said. “That's interesting.”

“Speaking of studies, would you be willing to help me with math?” she asked.

“You're doing math? Why?”

“I'm studying for my GED. I think I told you about it. But you must think that's silly. You've been through college and everything.”

“No, not silly at all, Susan,” he said. “I think it's gutsy of you. Really, it is. You don't have to be ashamed. If you pass your GED, you can go on to college if you want to.”

“Me? Go to college?”

“Sure! Why not?”

“
Should
I go to college?”

He shrugged. “It's a personal decision, of course, along with whatever financial considerations there are.”

“Would you go to college if you were me?”

“Sure. But I'm
not
you. It has to be
your
choice.”

“I'm not used to having so many choices,” she said.

“There's more around here than on the farm, that's for sure.”

“It comes from being Amish,” she said. “So will you consider looking over the test sample I did? And give me some advice on the math problems?”

“Sure. When would it suit you?”

“I think the question is when would it suit you?”

“How about Sunday afternoon?”

“At my place?” Belatedly she thought,
Is there anything wrong with having him come to my apartment? We would be alone
…

“Sunday then,” he said. “Later on in the afternoon, perhaps. Can you last that long without my wisdom?”

“I'll try,” she said.

Duane pulled into the parking lot of the Monmouth Mall and found a spot close to the entrance.

“I'm starved!” he said, as they got out of the car. “Shall it be shopping or eating first?”

“We'd better eat,” she said. “I don't want you passing out on the floor.”

“Pizza?”

“Sounds good to me.”

Inside the mall, he led the way toward the Pizza Hut sign halfway down the first corridor.

“What will it be?” he asked when they arrived and glanced up at the menu board.

“Whatever you order, I'll take a few pieces.”

“I'll be ordering a meat lover's. Does that sound okay?”

“
Yah
,” she said. “That sounds good. I'm not hard to satisfy when it comes to pizza.”

He ordered and paid the cashier. Susan filled her drink cup, and they chose a booth to wait in until their number was called.

When it was announced a few minutes later, Duane said, “That was fast! They must have the popular pizzas made up ahead of time.”

Duane returned with the pizza on an aluminum tray and set it on the table.

“It sure smells
gut
,” Susan said.

“Do you have pizza on the farm?” Duane asked.

“Yes, but we make our own.”

“I bet that would taste even better,” he said. “Let's pray and then find out how good this one is.”

He bowed his head, and she followed suit.

When he pronounced “Amen,” Susan looked up and motioned at the pizza with her hand. “You go first.”

He removed a piece, sliding it onto a small plate. He waited for her. She picked up a smaller piece and took a bite, and he did the same.

“It's good!” she said. “It has the same good taste as
Mamm'
s does.”

“Then to the good name of mother…er,
Mamm
, and Pizza Hut.” He lifted his piece of pizza as if in a toast.

He is more laid back tonight
, Susan decided. That made her relax a bit. She realized that in the
Englisha
world she was more of a Pizza Hut person than a fancy Italian restaurant type. She imagined she could get used to fancy restaurants if she had to.
What would it be like to marry Duane? Stop! Quit imagining a future that might include such a thing
, she ordered.
Duane is simply a friend and nothing more, is he not? And that is
gut
. I need friends
.

They ate in companionable silence occasionally broken by small talk.

“Done?” he asked, finishing his third piece.

“Yes, I think so,” she said. “Let's go to Penney's.

“I'll follow you,” he said. “I don't come here much.”

“You can do something else while I shop if you want to,” she said. “I won't be long.”

He shook his head. “Baby shopping it will be. I'll tag along.”

She found the infant department easily and looked for something for a boy. She held up a blue jumper, looked at it, and asked, “What do you think?”

“Looks fine. Just my color,” he said with a smile.

“Okay then. Now a bag of disposable diapers and we're done.”

She found the right size, and they made their way to the nearest checkout counter.

Duane pulled out his wallet and pulled out a credit card. “I'm paying half.”

“You don't need to do that.”

“I want in on the charity project,” he insisted.

They made their way to the car, and he stowed the purchases in the backseat.

“That was awfully nice of you,” Susan said when they were both in the car and buckled in. “Thank you.”

“It's your project, so the thanks belongs to you and Laura. In my business I don't often get a chance to help out on things like this. It's a pleasure.”

From the mall, he drove back downtown and parked on the street. He got out, opened Susan's door, retrieved the packages, and walked her to the apartment door.

“I'll carry these up the stairs for you,” he offered.

“Thank you. I appreciate that.”

When they got to the top of the stairs, he set the packages down on the table. “Sunday then,” he said, smiling. “I enjoyed the evening.”

“
Yah
,” she said. “Sunday. Thank you for the pizza—and your part in our ‘project.'”

She walked with him down the stairs and watched as he reached the car. She quickly ducked back inside and locked the door. It wouldn't be good if Duane saw her watching him leave. Seeing her watching him arrive had been bad enough.