The breeze blew in from the ocean, soft on their faces. Dim lights from passing ships shone in the distance like pinpricks on the dark waters. A soft murmur rose from the sand as the waves rolled in.
“You’re funny, Robby. You know that?”
“Is that all you have to say?” he asked. “After all that effort I put in? I was trying to be good.”
Susan let go of his hand, stepping forward. “Oh, but this is beautiful! I’ve never been out here at nighttime. Thanks so much for bringing me.”
“You were coming yourself, and I just tagged along,” he corrected, looking out over the sandy stretch of beach. “But I’ll take the compliment. Let’s run on the sand.”
“Just a minute!” Susan paused. With one hand she removed her shoes and held them loosely by her side.
“You should have brought your bathing suit,” Robby said.
“It’s too cold. And besides, I haven’t got one,” she said.
“Oh that’s right. You have something against bathing suits, don’t you?”
“Only when I’m wearing such things where the whole world can see.”
“I bet you’ve never had one on in your whole life,” he said.
“No, I haven’t,” she admitted, pausing to wiggle her toes. “The sand feels so different at night.”
Robby held out his hand and said, “Come with me.”
She took it, pulling back as he pulled forward, propelling herself with the momentum, feeling the soft footing shift under her feet.
“Run,” he said, approaching the edge of the waves. “Run like you’ve never run before!” He let go of her hand and sprinted forward, becoming a dim shadow ahead of her.
Susan hesitated. Should she give in to this feeling of abandoning one’s self? The world was somehow much larger out here. Ahead of her the horizon was shrouded in darkness, stretching on and on into nothingness. Underneath her feet the sand moved.
“I’m coming!” she shouted. “Wait for me.”
“Run!” he shouted back, his voice distant.
She ran, her strides hesitant at first. There’s a certain trick to this, she thought. A way of planting my feet for the next push forward. These were lessons not learned on the farm. But this was a gut thing. Susan propelled herself forward, lifting her dress high. Who could see anyway in the falling darkness?
The wind brushed against her cheeks. Her eyes searched ahead. Robby’s form was a dim blob ahead of her. Boys ran fast, but she had grown up on a farm. The time spent running to and from the back fields had not been wasted. With a burst of effort, she increased her speed. Robby’s form came into view and then seconds later, she passed him.
“Whew!” he said, slowing down. “You did grow up on a farm.”
“That was fun,” she said, gasping for air as she slowed to his pace.
“Just good old city fun.” He flopped down on the sand. “I guess one has to know where it’s found.”
“Are there many more of these hidden pleasures around?”
“Not many. Shhh…the moon is coming up.”
She lowered herself onto the sand and looked up to the moon, its first dim glow bubbling up on the horizon.
“It’s coming,” he said.
Susan watched as the light increased. How vundabah this was. The minutes seemed to hang on each other like molasses running out of a barrel. The emerging form of the moon cast its light across the waters. The bubble loomed larger, soon becoming a simmering halo on the horizon.
“You’ve seen this before,” she whispered.
He nodded. “It’s almost enough to make a person believe in God.”
“Don’t you?”
“I do in moments like this…”
She watched the light expand until the whole ball was visible, save for a tiny sliver missing from the top.
“It’s not quite a full moon anymore,” he said. “That was a few nights ago.”
“Did you come down here then?”
“No, I haven’t been here in a long time.”
“Then why now?”
“You, I guess.” He turned on his elbow. “You and that touch of the farm you bring with you.”
“And to think I was trying to lose that mark.”
“I didn’t mean that in a bad way,” he said, turning his head, his face half lit by the light off the water. “But then perhaps it’s more than that. You think God lives out in the country?”
“Yah, but He surely lives here too. I hope He does.”
“God is everywhere. That’s what they used to tell us in Sunday school.”
“You don’t go to church anymore, do you?”
“Not for a long time.”
“Your mom took me to her church last Sunday. We’d have gone again today if it weren’t for the festival. You should come with us sometime. It would do you good.”
“I didn’t know you were full of missionary zeal. I thought farm folks were more laid back, less in your face. That’s what I liked about you.”
“Well, I didn’t mean to offend you. It was just a suggestion. If you have problems, maybe you can find answers there.”
“You think I have problems?”
“I think we all have problems. I know I do. And plenty of them.”
“Nothing that church won’t cure, I’m sure.”
“I hope so. I know I sure wouldn’t want to stay home on Sundays. Even if I’m going to a church where my parents would disapprove…or even think sinful.”
“Going to church sinful?” He looked at her. “How is that?”
“You must not know much about Amish people.”
“No, not much,” he said, tracing lines in the sand, darker shadows appearing where his finger had been. “Other than things like plowing their fields with horses, one-day barn raisings, lots of pie eating…and nice girls.”
“Really!” She laughed. “I’m sure that was before you met me.”
“You’re okay,” he said, his finger pausing. “So why would they object to mom’s church?”
“Are you sure you want to know?” she asked.
When he nodded, she took a deep breath and began. “Church attendance has to stay—shall we say—in the family. And according to the family, that could be Old Order Amish, New Order Amish, Black buggy Amish, Yellow buggy Amish, Schwartzentruber Amish, Beachy Amish, and who knows how many more. Then there are the Mennonites—liberal, conservative, Black Bumper….well, you get the idea. But the Baptist church where your mom goes is….well, just not acceptable.”
“You sound a little bitter,” he said.
“I think that’s just an echo of your own voice you’re hearing,” Susan said. “As for me, I’ve accepted things the way they are. Who can change them?”
“But you’re changing yourself?”
“That’s something I can change. But even when I do, who knows if it will be any better.”
“Is that what you want to find out?”
“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.