The Atonement

by Beverly Lewis

  “I will another time,” Lucy told her, loving the fact that she was close to all her nieces, but especially Ammon’s girls.

  “Geb mir dei Watt!” Cora said, making her saddest face.

  “Sure, I’ll give you my word,” Lucy said, realizing the walk wasn’t at all what she’d intended. They mean well, she thought.

  The truth was, despite her curiosity about Tobe’s note, still hidden away, she was altogether distracted by what she’d seen earlier—Deacon Miller seeking out her father, and the two of them going together to the stable, Dat looking awfully solemn. She hadn’t been able to get the image out of her mind—it stirred up memories she much preferred to erase. Memories of offering to put aside her church membership for as long as the brethren deemed necessary—a temporary shun—for having dated an outsider after her church baptism. But that wasn’t the worst of it . . . she’d never told the deacon the full truth.

  Just then a gust of wind worried the trees overhead, churning them into a whirl much like her own troubled thoughts. She remembered how nervous she had been the day she’d gone to speak with the deacon about her transgression. Yet it hadn’t been nerves alone that had kept her from revealing all.

  Near home, the expanse of grazing land came into view, and Uncle Caleb’s barn dog howled at her. Lucy felt drawn into the landscape—the orderly stacks of firewood, the homemade scarecrow in the pumpkin patch. And observing Sunshine and Hurricane Henry, or Caney as most of the family called him, galloping gracefully in the large paddock, Lucy smiled. Our beautiful pets, she thought, glad their racing days were long past. She thought then of Kiana and Van, wondering if they were enjoying the outdoors, too. Thus far, her attempts to find anything affordable for them had failed, though she would continue to search the newspaper every day.

  In the near distance, Lucy recognized Tobe Glick’s father as he vigorously sang one of the Ausbund hymns while their family carriage rumbled down the road. She couldn’t help but smile. It was as if the Almighty One had brought them along just now to cheer her up, like a small blessing. Mamm would be quick to point out that, no matter how hard it was to reconcile the past, there was always the Lord’s Day to encourage and bring comfort. “Like a tether between you and your heavenly Father, dear Lucy.”

  Does Mamm even suspect how far away He often seems to me?

  Lucy sighed and slipped her hand into her dress pocket as she continued walking, ready to see what Tobe’s note might reveal.

  Hi, Lucy,

  Even if you’re not interested in coming to Singing tonight, will ya at least consider meeting me on the road near your house afterward, and I’ll pick you up in my buggy? No need to let me know in advance—I’ll come by either way. I’d really like to talk with you privately.

  Your friend,

  Tobe Glick

  Maybe he wants my opinion . . . although it’s been a long time. She remembered back when Tobe had turned sixteen, dating age, and he’d sought out her advice regarding certain girls. More than once, he’d broken things off on Lucy’s counsel alone.

  And look where it’s gotten him, she thought sadly. My loyal friend . . . still single.

  “This must be urgent. It’s not every day I get a letter from Tobe,” she whispered.

  Back at home, she made her way to the top of the house, where she flung herself on her bed and wondered if Lettie imagined she was playing matchmaker. Wishful thinker . . .

  Lucy let herself rest awhile, recalling when she’d first started going to Singings and other youth-related activities. Somehow or other, she’d always ended up on the same volleyball or softball team as Tobe, who had a way of making every gathering more fun.

  Getting up to remove her hairpins, Lucy brushed her hair one hundred times, just as Mamm had taught her to do. Quickly, she put it back up neatly to go visit Mammi Flaud next door.

  Lucy’s grandmother wanted to sit out on the wooden swing on her small white porch to enjoy the weather. At either end of the porch, a rusty yellow watering can was filled with an abundance of orange marigolds. A robin’s-egg-blue decorative birdhouse sat in one corner, making for a cozy, inviting spot.

  “Well, much to my surprise, I managed to recall even the most recent birth dates, including all my great-grandchildren,” Mammi said. “So I’m on my way. I just hope I don’t forget anyone.”

  “I knew you’d put that chart together, Mammi. By the way, Sylvia has an old cross-stitch from her grandmother with the names of each grandchild and their day of birth. It’s hanging on the wall in Ammon’s and her front room. It’s really something to see.”

  “What a gut idea,” Mammi said. “Next time I’m there, I’ll look at it. More than likely I’ve seen it and just haven’t paid close attention.”

  “Well, you won’t miss it, now that you know.” Lucy was glad she’d come to visit, though she knew there’d been several other visitors at her grandmother’s door this week. It was the way of the People to look after widows, something for which Lucy had always been grateful, especially since Dawdi died. If only it were that way for all the folk in hospice, too.

  “I only hope I’ll be around when you finally bring a little one into the world,” her grandmother said, the swing moving gently.

  Lucy felt her cheeks warm. There had been more than a few times Mammi had dropped hints about marriage. “Well, I daresay you might have a long wait, Mammi.”

  “For pity’s sake, what’re ya saying, Lucy dear?”

  “Just that . . . it’s unlikely I’ll be marryin’.”

  “Don’t you want to?”

  She has no idea, realized Lucy, feeling relieved her grandmother had been spared.

  “Oh, I’ve given it some thought.”

  Mammi looked askance. “Well, now . . .”

  Taking a breath, Lucy continued. “Back before Dawdi Flaud passed away and you moved here to be near Dat and Mamm, I suffered some real difficulties. I’d made some terrible choices . . . which I soon regretted.” Ones I might never be able to make up for . . .

  A silence passed between them; Mammi’s expression was clearly ferhoodled.

  “Oh, my precious girl, try an’ remember that our Lord Jesus was a man of sorrows,” Mammi said, her smile sweet as she patted her hand. “He’s closer than a brother.”

  “I know, Mammi,” Lucy whispered, tears welling up. “I know.” If only I could believe it . . .

  Chapter 12

  BACK HOME, LUCY FOUND her mother sitting outside fanning herself on the porch. “Feels gut to just rest,” Mamm said as she rocked.

  “You don’t have to make excuses, Mamm.” Lucy sat in the old hickory chair next to her. “Not as hard as you work.”

  “You’re starting to sound like your Mammi Flaud.”

  “I was just over there. Nice to have her near.”

  Mamm nodded. “She’s so much more settled nowadays . . . used to the idea of living next door to us.”

  “And excited ’bout all that perty fabric she was given,” Lucy said. “I have a feelin’ we’ll be over there quilting once it turns real cold.”

  “Des gut, then. A new project is always a joy.”

  Lucy considered the possibility of seeing Tobe, just the two of them, later tonight. And she mentioned it to Mamm. “He’s probably sweet on someone and wants my opinion.”

  Mamm nodded, a smile breaking forth. “Maybe he’s sweet on you.”

  “Ach, we’ve always been friends—that’s all.”

  Her mother shrugged. “But still, your Dat’s awful fond of Tobe.”

  “Well, it ain’t what he might think.”

  Swallows buzzed about the trees, and everything seemed to move in perfect rhythm with this new season. Oh, Lucy loved the fall best of all, and she looked forward to helping the twins pick pumpkins and haul them in Dat’s wheelbarrow out to the road, where they always put up a stand to sell the excess.

  “Older folk often talk ’bout the autumn of their lives,” Lucy found herself saying.

  “’Tis true, and t
hings can be even more beautiful toward the end of that season of life. The tree might be goin’ dormant, but it certainly goes out in style!”

  That’s Mamm for you, Lucy thought. Ever optimistic.

  The elderly gentleman Lucy had talked to at market came to mind. “I met an older Englischer man the other day.” She told of having seen him at the footbridge up yonder, as well as at the farmers market. “He mentioned his wife is ill.”

  “Oh?”

  Lucy nodded. “I could tell he was real worried.”

  Mamm looked her way. “Well, perhaps you were meant to meet him, honey-girl.”

  “It’s not like I can help her, though.”

  “No, you can’t fix everyone,” Mamm replied. “But there is something you can do.”

  Pray, she means.

  Mamm always seemed to have the right words to say. And not only that, she sincerely meant them. “Sarah’s one to be trusted,” Mammi Flaud often said, pride in her voice.

  “Have ya thought that certain things happen for a reason?” Lucy’s mother asked. “And ofttimes for a very important one?”

  Lucy swallowed hard. Not so long ago, she had.

  ———

  From his spot in the barn, Christian took delight in observing his wife and Lucy relaxing on this beautiful Lord’s Day afternoon. It was good to see they’d weathered the past storm, though Sarah had admitted to him recently that even their relationship had suffered from Lucy’s unexpected engagement to an outsider . . . and the trials that came as an outgrowth of that.

  He clenched his jaw, remembering the order of events almost like they’d happened just yesterday.

  “Thank the Good Lord she’s still amongst the People,” he murmured, recalling the night Lucy told her mother she didn’t think she would live to see the light of the next day.

  Christian stepped closer to the open barn door, counting his blessings and soaking up the tranquil scene across the yard as his wife and daughter talked quietly, Sarah moving her hands now and then, and Lucy turning and nodding, smiling . . . even laughing.

  In a few more hours, the sun would sink below the horizon, and dusk would fall. He recalled other Sundays, when Lucy had made a point of shadowing him, assisting with barn chores so he could spend more time with the family. How he missed those afternoons with her.

  O Lord, he prayed, choking back tears. If only she’d forgive me . . .

  Feeling a mixture of curiosity and confidence, Lucy walked up the road toward Uncle Caleb and Aunt Hannah Flaud’s big farm and stood off to the side of the road, near the horse fence. She’d thought Tobe might already be there waiting, but the Singing part of the Sunday social gathering might have gone longer than usual.

  Looking around, she recalled this was one of a handful of prearranged locations where she’d waited for another young man—her first beau. Her Englischer boyfriend, Travis Goodwin. Seems like a lifetime ago, she thought, surprised she’d wandered up this way.

  She wondered if Tobe would think to look there for her, though he had met her on foot close to this very spot once before, long before she’d ever thought of accepting Travis’s charming words and invitations.

  But Tobe had always had a way of finding her. Yet it seemed out of character for him to have slipped a note to Lettie, of all people. Like a few other fellows in the district, Tobe adhered a bit more to the old way of dating—keeping a lid on whom he was seeing. Maybe that was the reason Lucy had never heard of a steady girlfriend, not in the past few years. And Rebekah certainly seems to want to keep the twins apprised of that.

  The world was ever so still at this hour. She thought she heard a carriage in the distance . . . or was it?

  Her heart sped up a little, and the image of a silver convertible flying down the road with Travis at the wheel flashed in her mind.

  Goodness, what was causing these memories to spring up now, after she’d sealed them away? Perhaps it was the time of evening . . . and this peaceful bend in the road where the treetops intertwined overhead. Uncle Caleb’s beautiful horses had sometimes wandered over from the meadow to the fence, nuzzling her arm while she awaited the sound of Travis’s Mustang on a Friday or Saturday night.

  I stood here once in pouring rain, she recalled. The storm had come up quickly, and she was soaked to the bone by the time she’d finally seen the headlights.

  Taking gulps of breath now, Lucy began to walk quickly, refusing to remember more. She even considered just going home until, as if by Providence, she saw the lights of a courting carriage coming this way.

  “Out with Jerry Glick’s boy, ya say?” Christian asked as he and Sarah rode over to visit their eldest son, Ammon, and his family on Horseshoe Road that evening. Sarah promptly shushed him, seeming to want him to keep this under his hat. “Well, now . . .”

  Sarah patted his arm. “She does not want it known . . . says she has no idea what he wants to see her about.”

  “I ’spect Tobe’s got a gut reason, jah?” Christian glanced at her as they sat in the family buggy.

  “I agree, but it’s not a date.”

  Christian laughed. “Puh! That’s what we used to say, too, back when we were starting to see each other, remember?”

  “Things of the heart don’t change much, I guess.”

  Glad for the covering of night, he slipped his left arm around his wife, holding on to the driving lines with his right. “Well, lookee here: I’ve still got what it takes.”

  “You were quite an expert at one-handed drivin’ back when we were courtin’,” Sarah agreed.

  “Ah, so ya haven’t forgotten, love?”

  Sarah slid closer. “Niemols—never.”

  “Mei Lieb.” Christian pointed out the moon, high over the eastern hills. “If Lucy’s wise, she’ll hear Tobe out, whatever it is.”

  Sarah smiled. “Are we back to that again?”

  “Ach, love, come here.” Christian drew her even closer.

  Chapter 13

  LUCY FELT AWKWARD sitting in Tobe’s open courting buggy and left plenty of space between them. Tobe had gotten down from the black carriage to greet her and even helped her in, gentleman that he was. Yet as soon as they were on their way up Witmer Road, she could tell by the rigid way he held the driving lines that something was gnawing at him.

  They talked about the usual things—who was courting whom and what snacks were served at tonight’s Singing. He noted, “Your twin sisters went riding with the Mast brothers for the third time. Might be a double match.”

  “First I’ve heard it,” she admitted.

  “Well, if you came to Singings . . .”

  “Gut one, Tobe.”

  “I’m serious.” He gave her a quick smile.

  She wanted to set her old friend at ease, but Tobe wasn’t himself tonight, and she decided not to bide her time. “Ach, what is it? What’s on your mind?”

  Tobe laughed softly and shook his head.

  “I know you, and you’re ferhoodled.” She waited, hoping he might loosen up.

  Then he nodded. “All right.” He turned and smiled at her, then suddenly looked timid. “It really wonders me, Lucy, if you might’ve already heard from the grapevine the news I’m gonna tell ya.”

  “Glory be! Tobe, the gossipmonger?”

  He laughed again and caught her eye. “It’s called news when ya get it straight from the horse’s mouth. Ain’t gossip at all.”

  She frowned, feeling her insides tighten. “Okay. What’s the news?”

  He changed his grip on the reins. “Gut, then . . . I hoped you’d hear it from me.”

  She stared at him. Was he going to reveal something really big, like an engagement? Was that why he wanted to talk privately? They were close friends, although they hadn’t been confidants since her relationship with Travis.

  “Just how much longer will ya keep me in the dark?”

  He cleared his throat. “Well, my parents are seriously thinkin’ of moving to Colorado next year, come early spring.”

  Hi
s parents? She frowned, letting this sink in.

  “Remember when they were gone for ten days early last summer?” He explained that they’d gone to investigate the possibility of becoming established there. “There’s ungeheier amounts of ranchland available,” Tobe said. “Acres and acres of wide open space, Dat says.”

  Lucy wondered why he was telling her this. “Are they eager to live somewhere new?”

  He stopped talking and looked straight ahead. The sudden silence was unsettling.

  At length he said, “Thing is . . . I’m considerin’ going with them.”

  She was speechless.

  He held her gaze. “What do ya think, Lucy?”

  Lucy wasn’t sure how to respond. “I’ve heard nice things . . . ’bout Colorado. Mamm writes a circle letter with some cousins from out west.”

  “But what I’m askin’ is,” he continued, “do you think I should go?”

  In her heart of hearts, she knew she had no right to keep her friend here. “Do you want to?”

  He looked at her.

  She shrugged. “I mean . . . if ya want to, why not?”

  He was quiet again, seemingly sad, as if she’d given him the wrong response.

  Again Lucy spoke, trying to sound more hopeful for Tobe’s sake, yet feeling as if the ground were sinking around her. “The mountains are tall there, jah? And you’ve always talked ’bout conquering them, remember?”

  He chuckled. “Like a mountain goat?”

  She laughed and slapped the seat playfully. “You know what I mean! The Rocky Mountains might just be callin’ you, Tobe.”

  Their laughter blended with the evening air, and they rode for a ways without saying more.

  When he spoke again, his voice was somewhat hushed. “Actually, my father’s giving me the opportunity to buy his farm here. If I decide to stay, that is.” The struggle was evident in his tone.