Susan clicked off the alarm, the gray light from the city seeping in through the window shade. At four o’clock in the morning, the darkness would have been deep at home as the fields waited for the sun. Here no one waited for the sun. It was as if mankind could get along fine without the things God had to give.
Susan pushed back the covers and made her way to the dresser where she struck a match, transferred the flame to the kerosene lamp, and replaced the glass mantle. This hang-up about not using electric lights had to stop. She was no longer home on the farm. Some morning soon she would cross the threshold into Englisha lighting. That day, she knew, would mark another big step for her.
Yah, she told herself as she dressed by the flickering light, why could this not be the morning? Waiting longer wouldn’t make it any easier. Taking a deep breath, she whispered, “Goodbye.” Looking back at the kerosene lamp she said, “I will always keep you in my memory.”
She reached over and gently placed her finger on the wall switch. Could she do it? With a breath and a quick count to three, she flipped the switch. Instantly the room was flooded with light. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. So that was it. Not so very hard after all. She was moving on, as the Englisha would say. Still, this would take some getting used to at four in the morning. She walked over and blew out the kerosene lamp.
Faint noises rose from downstairs. Laura must have arrived for the Monday morning baking, and Susan needed to be downstairs. Breakfast could wait. She was used to that. You did the chores first on the farm, and then you ate.
Flipping the light switch to off, Susan went down to the bakery. “Good morning!” she called as she considered announcing her triumph of the morning. I finally turned on the electric lights!
“Good morning, dear,” Laura answered as Susan made her way to the back of the bakery. “My, you’re cheery for a Monday morning.”
“No late nights for me,” Susan said with a grin. “And don’t forget, I’m used to early mornings.”
“That’s my girl,” Laura said. “And I’m glad you’re ready to work. We’ll likely have part of the after-festival crowd show up this morning. Seems the visitors stay around for Monday morning—at least enough of them to make for a busy day.”
“I wonder if the older couple got to see the moon rise over the ocean,” Susan said, measuring out flour.
“I was thinking about Robby,” Laura said. “He said he enjoyed himself, but he wouldn’t tell me more. Like usual.”
“I gather from what he said he used to go to the ocean more often,” Susan offered.
“He did,” Laura said. “But things have changed for him—and not for the best. I wish he’d get things right with the Lord.”
Susan poured milk into the mixer and turned it on. “He seems to have a tender heart.”
“Yes, he’s always been that way.” Laura brushed the back of her hand across her eyes.
“You left flour on your face,” Susan said.
“Oh great. That would look funny to the customers,” Laura said with a laugh as she wiped her face with a dishtowel.
“Mamm used to end up with flour on her face every time she set foot in the kitchen,” Susan said. “Somehow it made the food taste better. At least that’s what Daett always said. Perhaps we just grew up believing it because he said so.”
“Someday I’m going to have to visit your folks. They sound like nice people.”
“They are,” Susan agreed as she reached to turn on the oven.
“I’ll be right back,” Laura said, stepping out of the kitchen to service the now empty display cases. Moments later she returned carrying the empty trays, dumping them into the sink.
Susan pulled the first batch of rolls from the oven and slid them onto the counter to cool.
“What cookies are we offering today?” Susan asked. “I can get those started.”
“I think peanut butter, Tollhouse, gingersnaps, and macaroons,” Laura said.
Moments later Laura left for the front again to start filling the urns of coffee so they’d be ready to turn on just before the bakery opened. Susan began the gingersnaps, stopping only to take the finished sweet rolls from the oven.
She drew in a long breath over them. These did smell gut. Perhaps this morning is special? A day of new beginnings? But then perhaps I’m imagining things. Perhaps turning on electric lights for the first time could do strange things to a person.
Laura returned. They worked together in silence, rushing at the last minute to finish filling the display cases before the first customer walked through the door. Susan pulled on a freshly washed white apron a few minutes before six. A quick glance in Laura’s direction brought a smile of encouragement.
“I’ll get cleaned up myself,” Laura said. “We’ve done really well this morning.”
Laura walked over to the coffee urns lined up on the counter, throwing the switches before disappearing into the back office.
“You look dreamy this morning,” Laura said, returning in a few minutes with a fresh apron on.
“I think today I shall buy a purse!” Susan announced with a laugh.
Laura smiled. “That’s right. I don’t think I noticed you don’t own one. You might find some nice ones in the local stores, but the better buys are at the mall. If you like, we can go tonight. My evening is free.”
Susan’s face brightened. “That would be wonderful. Thank you!” She pulled open the front door and set the doorstop. She turned to face a tall young man who walked in with a smile on his face.
“Good morning,” he said in a chipper voice.
Susan felt a flush spread up her neck. He was gut looking and even more. She guessed he could almost have been raised on a farm. She could even picture him in Amish clothing. But she shouldn’t be thinking about such things. She hardly knew him, and he might even be married. How could she think such worldly thoughts?
Susan made her way behind the cases where the man was surveying the rolls. “I think,” he said, slowly, “I’ll have a bear claw and an apple fritter. Oh, and coffee—black—please.”
Susan used metal tongs to put the bear claw and apple fritter onto a plate. She grabbed a paper cup and drew his cup of coffee.
At the register she said, “That’ll be four seventy-five.”
As he paid, he noticed Laura, nodded to her, took his change, and made his way to a table where he settled with a newspaper.
The front door opened again, and two more people came in, followed by an older couple and then another single man. Quickly a line was formed. Susan and Laura were kept busy.
Busy as she was, Susan stole an occasional glance at the man with his newspaper. Why was she thinking about men so much this morning? She really wasn’t interested, even in light of her bold words to Robby on the beach. Had she actually said she would keep her heart open? Well, it wasn’t going to be taken on Monday morning by an Englisha man in Laura’s shop. That was for sure.
The newspaper truck went by the window, and a paper banged against the front window. Laura liked the paper brought in right away since footprints on the headlines didn’t make for easy reading.
“Excuse me,” she said to the two ladies in front of her. They were taking their time deciding, looking and whispering to each other as if world peace depended on their choices that morning.
Susan retrieved the paper from the sidewalk and made her way back to the display cases.
“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.