Read Missing Your Smile Online
Authors: Jerry S. Eicher
Missing Your Smile (2 page)
Eicher, Jerry S.
Missing your smile / Jerry S. Eicher.
p. cm. â (Fields of home ; bk. 1)
ISBN 978-0-7369-3943-0 (pbk.)
ISBN 978-0-7369-4244-7 (eBook)
1. AmishâFiction. 2. Amish womenâFiction. I Title.
PS3605.I34M57 2012
813'.6âdc22
2011021196
All rights reserved
. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meansâelectronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, or any otherâexcept for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior permission of the publisher.
Printed in the United States of America
12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 /LB-SK/ 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Readers of Amish fiction love Jerry Eicher's Little Valley seriesâ¦
HAPTER
O
NE
S
usan Hostetler drew in her breath, her eyes drawn down the crowded street to the odd sight.
Why on earth would Amish people be coming to the Oyster Festival in Asbury Park?
she wondered. Hadn't she moved far enough away from Indiana and her Amish roots?
She resumed slicing the roast beef as an older man and his wife in front of the concession stand stared at her, waiting for their sandwiches.
“Sorry about that. Something just gave me a start,” she said. “I'll have this ready in a minute.”
The couple turned in the direction of Susan's gaze and then exchanged glances.
“I don't see anything,” the woman muttered. “Unless it's those Amish folks.”
The man shook his head. “They're pretty harmless. They're not murderers on the loose or anything.” He laughed.
Susan kept her eyes away from them, laying pieces of roast beef on the bread before adding lettuce and tomatoes. Let them laugh, and let the two think what they wanted. Sure the Amish weren't murderers, but there was one of them back home who murdered the heart, but that likely didn't count in the
Englisha
world. The sad thing was, it hadn't counted much in the Amish world either. She should have burned her wedding dress instead of burying it in the cedar chest at home.
Her
mamm
had said, “It's each one's choice whom to marry.” Well, Thomas had chosen, and she could also choose, regardless what anyone said about it.
“There,” she said, wrapping the two sandwiches and shoving them across the temporary counter. “You can pay at the register.”
They both raised their eyebrows and looked sideways at each other before moving toward Laura, who was working the register at the moment.
Across the street, the Amish couple was moving closer to the sandwich stand. The man was tall, his beard coming down almost to his fourth shirt button. His wife stood beside him holding a little girl. The mother was in her white
kapp
and the girl in a black bonnetâdressed just as the Amish women had done for many years. Her people would never change. But she would. And change would help the pain go away.
The crowd shifted and another young Amish couple appeared, following closely behind the first. He was round, like a short barrel, his wife skinny as a rail behind him. Neither of them carried a child. Susan caught herself hiding her face behind her hand, but then she realized how foolish it was. She no longer looked Amish without her
kapp
, and what would it matter anyway?
“We'll take two roast beef with all the toppings,” a girl's voice said in front of her, bringing Susan back to the booth. “
Yah
â¦coming right up!” She glanced at the two girls before her and tried to smile as she began the sandwiches.
What is wrong with me? Amish talk is supposed to be out of my system by now! And here I am saying
yah
again at the mere sight of Amish people
.
“So how are you two girls doing?” Susan asked as she laid out the bread. At least she could try being
Englisha
again.
“Okay, I guess,” one said with a shrug. “Just the usual stuff life gives you. Most of it stinks.”
The girl beside her giggled.
They can't be out of middle school
, Susan thought. She finished wrapping the sandwiches and said, “Well, maybe these will make the day go better for you.”
The girls smirked at each other and moved down to pay Laura.
Down the street, the Amish couples were coming closer. Surely they wouldn't stop at Laura's stand. Susan really didn't want to see Amish people up close right now. There were dozens of vendors lining the street. It would be the luck of the draw either way, but she was the only one selling roast beef sandwiches, and all the Amish Susan knew sure liked roast beef.
I'm trying to be
Englisha
now. Even if they stop here, they won't know I used to be one of them
, Susan reminded herself.
“Are you okay?” Laura asked, walking over to stand beside her.
“Oh
yahâ¦yesâ¦
of course,” Susan said. “Why do you ask?”
“You were a little short with the older couple. I know this festival brings a lot of business, and we're all tired. Still, it's not good manners to be abrupt, even if we won't ever see these people again.”
“I'm sorry,” Susan said. “I really am. I'll try to do better.”
“That's okay.” Laura smiled. “You did better with the two girls. I know we can't talk with everyone, especially when things get busy, but it's a nice service touch when we can.”
“I know,” Susan said. And she did know. Her life so far had taught her that much.
The Amish couples paused across the street, now standing close together, their heads leaning toward each other.
How like home, so natural and at ease they are
. Susan forced herself to glance away. It would do no good to think about such things. She had left all that behind. This was her new life.
In spite of herself, she looked their way again. They were talking, their lips moving and motioning with their hands. None of them looked aware of the looks they drew from curious people around them.
Insulated, that's what they are
, Susan thought. She no longer was. The world they were so guarded against, she had welcomed. At least there was comfort in the fact that they didn't know who she was, and she didn't really know who they were.
Susan brushed the strands of her long hair back over her shoulder, tucking them under her collar. There was no time to tighten the hair band, and it would make no difference anyway. A girl without a
kapp
would be
Englisha
to them, even with her Amish-looking dress. No questions would be aroused unless they thought she looked like a Mennonite girl. And what would an Amish or Mennonite girl be doing in a concession stand in Asbury Park?
The Amish were crossing the street now, coming straight toward her. Susan clasped her hands, daring to look at them only in the last seconds before they stood in front of her.
“Hi,” she said as casually as she could. “Can I help you? It's a nice day, isn't it?”
They ignored her questions as they searched the sandwich menu above her head. Quick glances between them followed, but no words.
“We'll take four roast beef sandwiches,” the older man finally said. “With everything you have on them.” His face was younger than she'd thought now that he had come up close. It was framed by his large beard. His eyes were a piercing blue.
Susan turned and busied herself with the bread and roast beef. She reached for the lettuce, peppers, onions, tomato, and mayonnaise.
Why did the man have blue eyes? And why did they cut so deep into her? Was he a relative of Thomas's? No, of course not. And besides, many of her people had blue eyes
.
She could tell he was watching her as she worked. She suddenly asked, “How do you want your lettuce? I can add extra pieces. And the tomatoes?” What questions. Why had she asked them?
The man didn't seem to notice anything strange. He simply replied, “
Ach
â¦that's plenty.”
“You from around here?” the large man's wife asked with a smile.
Susan tried to keep breathing, the warning racing through her brain.
Don't be tricked into speaking their language
.
“I live in Asbury Park for now,” she said. “I've been here for a few weeks.”
“You do know how to make a
gut
sandwich,” the portly man with the piercing eyes said. The large man next to him was silent, still eyeing the sign above him.
“I'm glad you think so.” Susan slid the first sandwich across the counter and turned to wrap the others. “We also have drinks. Laura will ring you up.”
“
Yah
, a Pepsi is what I want,” the large man said, pushing back his hat.
“You should drink water, that's what I say,” his wife said.
They all laughed.
“He's a big one,” piercing eyes said, glancing at Susan again. “We don't work him hard enough on the farm.”
“That would be the cabinet shop,” the large one said. “We're from Lancaster County. We're spending the day visiting the ocean. Thanks for the sandwiches.”
They nodded, moving on toward Laura, piercing eyes producing a well-worn billfold from his front pocket. Susan watched out of the corner of her eye. They mustn't notice her interest, but really there was no way they could even imagine the truth.
As the two couples paid and then walked away, Laura turned to Susan. “You know those people?”
“No,” Susan said, her eyes still following them.
“Nice people, the Amish are,” Laura said, watching Susan's face. “You look frightened.”
“I'm not. Really I'm not.” Susan forced a smile, pulling her eyes away from the bonnets bobbing in the distance. She had to get over this. Wasn't making a clean break from the past part of her plan?
“You wouldn't know them from Indiana?”
“No.” Susan shook her head.
“I thought they might be from your home community.”
“Oh,” Susan laughed, “there are Amish all over the place.” She turned to face an approaching older couple. “Good afternoon! Are you enjoying the festival?” she asked.