The Atonement

by Beverly Lewis

  Lucy smiled and led Jesse from the porch into the house. Martie followed with Josh and set him in his high chair at the table with some small wooden blocks. She went to the fridge and poured a bit of milk into a sippy cup and set it down in front of her younger son, who winced but eventually reached for it and sucked away.

  “Oh, don’t let me forget to give you some extra linens and things I found in my closet upstairs. I have a-plenty.” Martie paused, hoping enough time had passed. “Maybe you could use them for your hope chest,” she added.

  “Denki, but I really don’t need anything more,” Lucy said. “Mamm’s worried I’ll be a Maidel, ya know. Like that would be an awful thing.”

  “Aw, Lucy.” Martie was sorry for bringing it up and said so.

  Lucy changed the subject right quick, moving to the counter. “It’s gut of you to core and quarter the apples already.” She placed them in a large kettle and slowly added the cider, then put the lid on to wait for it to simmer. “Looks like we’re not puttin’ up near as much as the twins and I helped Mammi Flaud do a few days ago.”

  “You don’t know how blessed you are to have her just a few steps away.” Martie felt she ought to say it. “I miss seein’ Mammi as often as when I was still next door.”

  “You’re busy with your boys, though. So I’m sure she understands. Things change when you get married and start your family.” Suddenly Lucy looked glum.

  “You all right?” Martie paused from washing the pint jars in the sink.

  “Just thinkin’, is all.”

  Lucy turned back to the gas range to stir the cooking apples. “Do ya need anything at market?”

  “Denki, I did my shopping already.”

  “You’re schmaert to buy store-boughten items way ahead. Learned that from Mamm, no doubt.”

  Martie listened, curious as to what was really going through Lucy’s mind. This sister had always been a riddle and a half, funny and smart and thoughtful, yet sometimes so troubled. And for good reason, she thought. And yet, so much could have been avoided if Lucy had ignored her heart and done the right thing. Jah, Lucy was one of a kind in the Flaud family, with her constant activity, which annoyed Lettie and Faye to no end. But Martie guessed the twins still knew little about Lucy’s deeds that terrible year, other than that she’d dated an outsider.

  They never knew she was engaged and planning a fancy wedding. . . .

  “When have ya seen our brothers last?” Martie asked as she stood the sterilized canning jars on end on the drain board.

  Lucy turned quickly. “Not sure.” She smiled faintly. “Does Preachin’ count?”

  Martie overlooked that, tempted to say something about Lucy’s busy life, but held her peace.

  “Here, let me dry off the pints,” Lucy offered as the boys behind them began to giggle.

  Martie went over to them at the table, hoping to see some block building, but what she saw made her join in the amusement. Jesse had several blocks balanced on top of his truck like miniature cargo. “You think that little truck can hold all those blocks, do ya?”

  Jesse giggled again as Josh tried to knock them off the bed of the pickup, and Martie just let them be.

  Later, when the apples were soft, Lucy helped Martie press them through a sieve and discard the skins, returning the pulp to a pan and adding sugar.

  When they were finished with the sauce and Martie was cleaning up, she glanced at Lucy, who was staring out the window with the oddest expression. She looked lost, even pained.

  “Ach, what is it?” asked Martie.

  “I enjoy our times together so much,” Lucy said simply before turning back to her work.

  It gave Martie pause. After all this time, she’s still suffering.

  Chapter 5

  THAT AFTERNOON LUCY SET OUT walking toward the Bird-in-Hand Farmers Market, past Hannah’s Quilts and Crafts at the corner of Witmer Road and the Old Philadelphia Pike. She was careful not to lose her balance on the visibly deep ruts in the road caused by horses’ hooves. The weather had turned warmer than in recent days, so much so that Lucy actually considered walking all the way, but when Danny and Rose Anna Yoder, a young couple from her church district, waved her down and offered a ride, Lucy gladly hopped aboard.

  She noticed the seat had been newly upholstered and wondered how long it would be before Dat might have theirs redone. Mamm had been making enough hints here lately to get Dat’s attention, especially after one of the little grandsons had wiggled his finger into a small hole where the fabric had been accidentally cut, making the opening bigger.

  “Ain’t surprised to see you out and about,” Danny Yoder remarked, angling forward to look her way.

  Lucy smiled. “I’m runnin’ errands for Mamm.”

  “Off to market?” Danny asked, already wearing his black felt hat, which surprised her because it wasn’t officially autumn.

  “Jah, and if ya don’t mind, you can just drop me off wherever it’s convenient,” Lucy said.

  “Heard you’ve been helpin’ over at the Mennonite Central Committee,” Rose Anna said offhandedly.

  “Oh, I like to whenever I can.”

  “My mother was talkin’ with me the other day,” Rose Anna went on, “and she wondered if any of you girls might help her sew up some trousers for my little brothers. I would, but Danny’s been encouraging me to open my quilt shop behind the house. That’s sure got my hands full.”

  Danny grinned at her. “Better go ahead and tell Lucy you’re ready to open your doors next week.”

  Rose Anna pushed against him playfully. “Ach, you.”

  “What? Ain’t a secret, is it?” Danny chuckled. “I say just let the word out.”

  “Are ya havin’ a grand opening like some womenfolk do?” asked Lucy, curious why Rose Anna was being bashful about the shop.

  “Ain’t makin’ much of a fuss.” Rose Anna blushed.

  “But I wish she would,” Danny said, evidently interested in drumming up some extra income, like many Amish around the county. Farming didn’t provide the income it once had, what with land so scarce and farms so small.

  “Well, I’m sure you’ll attract lots of customers,” Lucy said, smiling. “And what a gut time of year to get your feet wet in retail, considering the fall tourist season’s in full swing.”

  Rose Anna nodded and folded her hands in her lap. “That’s what my parents have been sayin’, too.”

  “I’ll be sure to spread the news around.”

  “Oh, would ya?” Rose Anna beamed.

  Lucy said she would. “And since I can’t speak for my sisters or for Mamm, I’ll just say that I’m too busy myself to help with the trouser sewin’ you asked about. Real sorry.”

  “I understand. But would ya mind askin’ at home, maybe?”

  A little surprised, Lucy wondered why Rose Anna was seemingly putting her interest in opening the quilt shop ahead of her own little brothers. Still, she guessed she couldn’t fault her for knowing her limits.

  “Jah, I’ll check with Lettie and Faye. They’ll let you know at Preachin’, okay?” For sure and for certain, Lucy knew firsthand how easy it was to keep overextending, till pretty soon you met yourself coming and going.

  At market, Lucy moved from table to table, gathering up Mamm’s requests first. Then she compared prices for cider spice bags and hot mulled cider, as well as fruit butters, so she could tell Martie, who was interested in eventually setting up a small store at the back of her house with similar items, once the boys were older.

  Later, while waiting in line for soft pretzels—a treat for her twin sisters—Lucy spotted the well-groomed gentleman she’d seen on the footbridge last week. He was perfectly coordinated in a cream-colored cardigan sweater and chocolate brown trousers, and it looked like he was buying a quart of canned peaches from Rhoda Blank, one of her mother’s friends. The man balanced his three-pronged cane on the floor as he fetched his billfold.

  Thinking now was her golden opportunity, Lucy waved when he glanced he
r way. “Hullo,” she said. “You don’t know me, but I’ve seen you before a number of times at the small bridge on Witmer Road.”

  The man nodded his head, studying her. His warm, open face was lined with wrinkles. “I have to say you look familiar to me, as well.” He picked up his purchase and moved toward her, leaning heavily on his cane.

  “I pass by there on my way to my sister’s place a few times a week, rain or shine.”

  His hazel eyes brightened. Then he glanced at his bag of peaches. “I bought something for my wife.” He tapped the bag. “She has a real taste for anything peachy.”

  Lucy wasn’t sure if she should introduce herself, because he hadn’t offered to shake her hand like Amish menfolk typically did, even when meeting Englischers. So she made more small talk. “Oh, she’ll enjoy Rhoda’s peaches.” She bobbed her head toward their friend’s market booth.

  “Yes, absolutely.” His eyes glistened. “We often come to market together. Well, we did before she fell ill. . . .” His frail voice trailed off.

  Lucy waited for him to say more, but suddenly it was her turn next in line for soft pretzels, and the older man seemed to take notice. “Well, enjoy the rest of your day, young lady,” he said, dipping his head and moving on.

  I should have asked his name, Lucy thought sadly.

  On the walk toward home, Lucy could think only of the man whose sick wife had a hankering for peaches. He appeared to be close in age to Lucy’s maternal grandfather, who lived southwest of Quarryville with her mother’s eldest brother and family. “What a kindly old man,” she thought, hugging the shoulder along the busy road.

  The whine of leaf blowers came from the grounds of a nearby church on the Old Philadelphia Pike, and she slowed, out of breath, wishing she’d arranged for someone to pick up her and her purchases.

  Later, when she passed Ray and Martie’s steep lane, she wondered how the rest of her sister’s day was going. Here lately, Martie had seemed a bit sluggish, having gained some extra pounds because she was less active in the vegetable garden and whatnot. The boys are too small to be left unsupervised.

  Once she arrived home, Lucy found Lettie and Faye busy chopping vegetables with Mamm. Lucy set down the few things she’d bought for Mamm and removed the soft pretzels for her twin sisters, placing them on the table on a paper towel while the girls’ backs were turned.

  Leaving to gather eggs, Lucy smiled at the thought of Lettie and Faye’s surprise, even though she wouldn’t get to see their happy expressions this time. She thought back to Kiana and Van’s delight at the gifts she’d given last Friday. At times, she stopped in her tracks when she thought of all the many homeless people in the area. And around the world. So many need help.

  Tomorrow, Lucy would spend the majority of the day at the local hospice, where she often read to elderly patients. If Lettie and Faye understood the joy of volunteering, surely they wouldn’t begrudge my time away.

  Chapter 6

  BEFORE BREAKFAST THE NEXT MORNING, Lucy remembered to ask her twin sisters about sewing trousers for Rose Anna Yoder’s brothers. “She’s busy preparing for the opening of her new quilt shop,” Lucy said, removing a jar of strawberry jam from the pantry and setting it on the table.

  “Did she ask you first?” Lettie said as she scrambled eggs at the gas range.

  “Actually she did, but I thought either of you might have more time,” Lucy said, immediately regretting how insensitive that sounded.

  Lettie flashed a look over her shoulder at Lucy. “You must think your time’s more important than ours.”

  “Ach, Schweschder,” Faye whispered, slicing the homemade bread she’d made yesterday for toast.

  “Speak gently, girls,” Mamm cautioned, her light brown eyes flashing as she carried a carton of orange juice to the table.

  “I hesitate to say this, Mamm, but I’m honestly startin’ to think Lucy’s becoming a bit high-minded,” Lettie said, demonstrating that mornings were not her best time of day. “I mean, what’s she tryin’ to prove?”

  Lucy expected their mother to shake her head in disgust, but she sat down on the long bench and simply sighed. “Goodness, Lettie. Would ya mind sayin’ what ya mean?”

  Lucy cringed.

  Lowering the heat setting under the eggs, Lettie then turned to face them. “Does it seem strange to anyone else that our older sister flits from one place to another all week long? Ach, she scarcely has time for her responsibilities here at home.” Lettie paused. “Am I mistaken?”

  Faye flinched, and Lucy exhaled under her breath. Not again, Lettie.

  “Well, here’s my question to ya, Lettie: Are you angry and upset . . . or hurt?” Mamm asked gently, and Lucy knew their mother was anxious to clear the air.

  Lettie’s expression remained defiant, but her voice hinted at tears. “Maybe all of the above.”

  Despite her frustration with Lettie’s frequent complaining, it pained Lucy to see her this way.

  “Doesn’t it seem to you that Lucy thinks it’s all right to ask Faye and me to do something she supposedly has no time for?” Lettie’s face was pink.

  “Surely ya don’t think Lucy’s passin’ the buck.” Mamm looked solemn.

  “That’s exactly what she’s doin’. What’s more, we rarely see her anymore.” Lettie’s shoulders rose and fell. “Been that way for years now.”

  Faye stood frozen beside the toaster, eyes downcast.

  “What do you say to this, daughter?” Mamm asked Lucy.

  “I don’t purposely stay away from home,” Lucy answered softly.

  Mamm looked back at Lettie. “Your sister’s old enough to make her choices ’bout where she works or spends her time, just as you and Faye are.”

  “And we choose to stay an’ help you, Mamm,” Lettie replied.

  Mamm frowned. “I recommend you apologize to Lucy right here, right now.”

  Lucy pressed her lips together and observed poor Faye, still standing near the toaster, looking terribly chagrined. Faye’s trying to mind her own business, bless her heart.

  But Lettie shook her head. “For pity’s sake, Lucy’s runnin’ around like a chicken with its head chopped off!” With that, she left the kitchen.

  The back door slapped against the frame as Lettie flew out of the house. “Oh, Mamm,” Lucy said. “I’m so sorry . . . I hope—”

  Mamm waved her hand. “Ain’t your place to apologize.”

  Faye immediately took Lettie’s place at the stove, and Lucy hurried to fill the juice glasses before Dat arrived any moment now. He wouldn’t appreciate being stalled in his work because breakfast was behind schedule.

  “I don’t think Lettie slept well last night,” Faye said sadly. “She’s really not herself.”

  Lucy inhaled deeply. “It’s prob’ly a gut thing I’ll be gone much of the day, then.”

  Not necessarily agreeing, their mother looked weary as she rose to help get the food on the table.

  Lucy considered various ways to smooth things over. She had forgotten promising Lettie a short walk. As for Rose Anna’s request, she’d just have to find someone else to do the sewing, especially if Faye took her twin’s side on this. But right now Lucy was more concerned about finishing breakfast so she could get to the hospice center on time.

  “I’ll do the sewin’ for Rose Anna’s little brothers,” Faye suddenly offered, dishing up the eggs.

  Mamm smiled. “Denki, Faye. Ever so kind.”

  Lucy nodded. “Be sure to let Rose Anna know on Sunday, jah?”

  Faye said she would, and Mamm glanced toward the back door, a worried look on her face.

  Surely by tonight, Lettie will feel better, Lucy hoped.

  Christian pushed the barn door shut and started across the rolling yard toward the driveway. He glanced at the sky, trying to determine when the next rains might come. The air was rich with the fresh smells of soil and silage, and he thanked the Lord God for this beautiful new day. Wilt Thou bless everything our hands find to do today, for Thy honor
and Thy glory? he prayed.

  Just then, the back screen door opened, and Lettie burst forth, her cheeks bright red. She dashed toward the stable, gray skirt flying. “What’s gotten into her?” He hurried his steps, his stomach rumbling. Sarah will surely know.

  Earlier this morning, while reading his devotional book and having his first cup of coffee, Christian had pondered how to go about asking Lucy to accompany him to the grief support group tomorrow evening. But as before, he had come up short. He wasn’t worried about being refused—that would likely happen. He was concerned about further meddling with their daughter’s heart, breaking open a wound that refused to heal. It wasn’t that Lucy was rude or disrespectful. But the vacant way she sometimes looked at him broke his heart.

  I have only myself to fault. . . .

  Reflecting on the day’s reading, he recalled one particular passage about how nothing ever came into one’s life unless the Sovereign Lord willed it. “I can hang my hat on that,” Christian said, reaching the house. He removed his straw hat inside the mud room, then placed it on its wooden peg. He could hear Lucy talking with Faye in the kitchen amidst the clatter of utensils as he scrubbed his dirty hands in the deep sink for that purpose. With everything in him, he hoped God might bring peace to his eldest daughter’s soul.

  But how, O Lord? What else can I do?

  In her hurry to get going, Lucy had failed to take along her sack lunch, something she realized much too late. I can eat later, she thought, caught up now in reading aloud a short story from Guideposts at the bedside of elderly Wendell Keene. Over the past few weeks, Wendell had shared many of his life experiences, including the fact that, throughout his years, he had used his own money to plan other people’s funerals—people without families, often destitute. Lucy had never heard of this sort of thing. How sad that a person could die and have no family to offer respects! For this and other reasons, she felt a unique bond with terminally ill Wendell.