The Atonement

by Beverly Lewis

  Blushing, she wondered why he’d really come.

  “We missed seeing you at grief group.” Dale opened the passenger door and waited until she was settled inside.

  Lucy waited for him to load her scooter in back, then watched him hasten to the driver’s side and slide behind the steering wheel.

  “I took time to read the study pages for that lesson,” she said, without explaining her absence. “The theme grabbed my attention. That and some specific things you said last week, Dale.”

  “Well, I hope whatever it was made sense.” They moved out of the parking spot and onto the road.

  “Jah, things about faith which really got me thinkin’.”

  They drove through Bird-in-Hand and farther east to the Kitchen Kettle Village, Dale suggesting a stop at the Lapp Valley Farm Dairy and Ice Cream Stand. The day was perfect, the afternoon temperature still warm despite the position of the sun.

  There, Lucy ordered peach ice cream; Dale chose pistachio. The quaint shops and cobblestone walkways were appealing, and she hoped they might stroll about for a while. Almost immediately, Dale proposed doing so.

  The bold-colored foliage and eye-catching window displays made her look twice. Dale pointed out the fake black crows scattered around the area, some perched on baled hay. Lucy liked the harvest-themed decorations on store stoops—large block candles, gourds and pumpkins, and cute jack-o’-lanterns.

  “I realize we haven’t known each other very long,” Dale said as he finished his ice cream cone. “But now that we’re past the initial sizing-up stage, we’ve really clicked . . . become friends.”

  Lucy was quick to agree. “Your attention to Kiana and her son was a big part of it, ain’t so?”

  He shrugged, as if assuming anyone would have cared enough to help. “And you, Lucy . . . what a caring young woman you are.” He smiled at her.

  She shrugged, feeling a bit timid.

  They spotted a scarecrow wearing an Amish hat, and Lucy went over to look at it more closely. “You dressed like this once for a few hours, remember?”

  Dale chuckled. “But I never wore the hat.” He went on to recount how kind her Amish neighbors had been that terrible day, and how calm Lucy had seemed following the accident.

  Calmer than I feel now, she thought. “You should try on the hat.” She forced a smile. “See if it fits.”

  So he did, tilting his head comically. “What do you think?”

  Their eyes met, and that quick, Dale was grinning. He looked out of place, and they both knew it.

  He removed the hat. “I’m afraid this is the closest I’ll ever get to being Amish.” Placing it back on the scarecrow, he adjusted the hat carefully.

  She was glad when they resumed their stroll. Goodness, but they’d gotten nearly too close to something, talking all around it.

  “I wanted to see you today, Lucy . . . because I wish things could have been different for us.” He paused. “You see, I would have liked to move past our friendship to dating and really get to know you. But I would never tamper with your church membership.” Somehow, he knew about her baptism and their strict Ordnung.

  Dale’s words played over in her mind. He’s saying good-bye….

  They walked without speaking for a time, heading toward the exit and seeing a young Amish couple laughing and talking, apparently in love.

  “Tell me about Tobe,” Dale said unexpectedly.

  She wondered how he knew, then quickly put it together. Dear Dat, looking out for me. Lucy smiled and began to tell about her childhood friend, sharing happy memories of school days and of having grown up with Tobe. She also mentioned his fine reputation amongst the People. “He wanted to court me, but his family’s movin’ out west.”

  “Tobe’s leaving, too?”

  She nodded.

  “So you aren’t interested—”

  “It’s hard to explain, really.”

  Dale stopped walking. “I wish you could see your face.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, your eyes light up when you say his name.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” She shook her head sadly. “Not anymore.”

  “Listen, maybe it’s not my place to say this, but we’ve shared some things. Mostly spiritual.”

  Nodding, she wondered what was coming.

  “You once admitted to keeping God at a distance.” His voice grew softer. “Like we all do at times.”

  She lowered her head. “I haven’t given Him a chance. I know that.”

  Dale was slow to continue. “I guess I’m wondering if you’ve given Tobe a chance.”

  Lucy felt immediately annoyed. It wasn’t his place to pry, to peel away at her private life.

  And Dale seemed to realize that, too, his gaze turning apologetic. He raised his hands as if conceding. “Okay, okay. None of my business, right?”

  She smiled. “It’s gut we’re heading home, jah?”

  They walked toward the parking lot in silence, and in her heart, Lucy knew this was the last she and Dale would spend any time together. It was for the best, too, especially after coming so close to abandoning her Plain life to marry a worldly Englischer. Her parents were right; she really ought to be more careful.

  Above all—and Lucy felt this strongly as she picked up her pace toward Dale’s truck—she was actually fine with being single, if that was God’s will. Even so, getting acquainted with Dale Wyeth had been an added surprise. And a blessing.

  “Thanks for your helpful tips on simple living,” he said as they drove back toward East Lampeter. “I’m ready to install my wood-burning stove next week.”

  “Congratulations,” Lucy said, happy to hear it. “And thank you for helpin’ me find my way back to grace.”

  He frowned slightly, but there was no need for her to explain. To think the Lord had used an outsider to point her in the right direction.

  Her visit to see Kiana and Van was enjoyable, and Van made a point of telling her that all the barn kitties were coming to their back door, meowing and wanting more treats.

  “Bud and Gracie warned us about that,” Kiana said, referring to their sudden congregation of cats. “And also that the mice population will explode in their barn if we make a habit of feeding the cats.”

  “Well, I guess spoilin’ the kitties for a little while won’t hurt,” Lucy said, ruffling Van’s hair.

  “Van is learning so much about nature . . . and God,” Kiana told her during the horse-and-buggy ride as Van sat on Lucy’s lap. She let him put his hands over hers while she held the driving lines.

  Kiana looked rested, the dark circles under her eyes already scarcely visible. There was a new peachy hue to her cheeks. “Things are working out for me here.” She told about neighbors donating small pieces of furniture, including a chest of drawers and table and chairs. And Bud had brought down the double bed from their guest room for Kiana to borrow, for the time being.

  Later, after returning to the farm, Kiana invited Lucy inside to sit at the table, where she had sugar cookies on a plate and brought out some fresh milk. Lucy joked that she was fitting right in, showing such Plain hospitality. She asked what type of used car Kiana was considering and learned that Bud and Gracie had taken her over to the car lot to decide.

  After the treat, Lucy wrote out a check in Kiana’s name for a generous down payment, and Kiana wept at the amount. She got up right quick and opened a drawer near the sink and produced a homemade card. “Van liked the idea of red and pink hearts all along the border, so we alternated making them.”

  Van came over and pointed out the hearts he’d drawn and colored in. “Miss Lucy, Mommy’s bestest friend.”

  “That’s so dear,” Lucy said. “And you must call me Aendi Lucy, like my nieces and nephews do.”

  “What’s Aendi?” Van asked, his head tilted to one side.

  “It means Auntie Lucy, sweetie,” Kiana told him.

  Lucy smiled as the little fellow ran back to his toys. “Is there anything else yous need?” Lucy
asked.

  “A hug before you leave would be nice,” Kiana said. “I get at least two a day from Gracie, and, oh, the family devotional times Bud and Gracie have invited us to are just what my heart has been longing for.” She lowered her eyes for a moment. “I’ve started drafting a letter to my father, by the way, hoping to share some of the things I’ve learned lately from the Bible.” Here, Kiana paused, her lower lip trembling. Then, struggling with emotion, she continued, “Gracie tells me nearly every day, ‘If it matters to you, Kiana, it matters to the Lord Jesus.’”

  Lucy nodded. This sounded like something Dawdi Flaud used to say. Or Clinton Holtz.

  “When ya get your car, bring Van over, and I’ll introduce ya to my twin sisters and show you around our big farm,” Lucy offered. “Maybe we’ll take the pony wagon out on the field lanes, too. How’s that?”

  Van enthusiastically bobbed his head.

  Before she left, Lucy opened her arms to Kiana, and Van squeezed in, too. The laughter in the little guesthouse brought grateful tears to her eyes, and a thrill of joy rippled all the way down to Lucy’s toes.

  Chapter 45

  FOR THE NEXT FEW DAYS, Lucy felt remarkably satisfied staying home and helping Mamm and Mammi Flaud with fall housecleaning, as well as cooking and baking, leaving only to continue her work for Martie. She and a few other women, including her twin sisters and Mamm, as well as Cora and Emma Sue, pieced together a quilt over at Mammi Flaud’s. Lucy realized she’d missed working alongside the womenfolk and delighted in seeing Mammi’s quilt come together so quickly. They talked congenially together, eventually discussing Faye’s plans to go west. Mamm wore a happy face, but Lucy knew it would be hard on her to have Faye so far away.

  “Let’s all go out there and visit her,” Lettie suggested. “At least for the wedding!”

  Mammi Flaud looked sad momentarily, and Lucy guessed she might not feel up to making the very long trip. Lucy’s heart went out to her, and for the time being, she decided to slow her pace of volunteering, possibly including Lettie or Faye, or even Mamm herself from time to time.

  On Thursday morning, before Lettie and Faye came downstairs for breakfast, Dat asked Lucy if she wouldn’t mind skipping the grief support group to play Dutch Blitz with the family that evening. However, being a conscientious man, he encouraged her to read through the rest of the curriculum at a later date, which Lucy readily agreed to do. Neither of them brought up Dale Wyeth, but Mamm indicated that Dat planned to check in with him sporadically to see how he was managing the changes he’d made in his lifestyle. “Especially once winter’s blast comes.”

  Each night, in the privacy of her room, Lucy included Tobe and his family in her prayers, asking God for wisdom for the families relocating to Monte Vista. She prayed for Faye and her beau, too . . . and for Ray and Martie. Going to a drought-ridden area would definitely be a test of endurance, a challenge she could not imagine. It was a relief to her, and to Mamm, that Ray had taken Martie and their unborn babies into consideration, deciding to wait before making the taxing move.

  That Saturday, after reading to a new hospice patient, Lucy slowed her scooter and stopped at the footbridge on the way home. Warm memories of Clinton and Dorothea Holtz filled her heart, a testament to God’s faithfulness.

  Breathing in the crisp air, she wandered over the hilly area to the paved pathway toward the bridge. The peace she felt was almost tangible, and she was thankful beyond measure for her and Dat’s reconciliation, as well as her reconciliation to the People as a whole. This included her growing relationship with Lettie, who admitted to hiding Martie’s column under the settee at Mammi Flaud’s in an attempt to prevent sisterly strife.

  Daily, Lucy purposely embraced the blessing of forgiveness. “My future is bright . . . even without a love like Clinton and Dorothea’s,” she whispered as she came to the bridge.

  She walked right up to it and stood there, trying for a moment to put herself in youthful Dottie’s shoes. Then, leaning on the railing to watch Mill Creek rippling past, she marveled at the tranquil, gurgling sound and the current carrying with it deep red and gold leaves, twigs, and seeds.

  Losing track of time, Lucy reflected on her renewed faith and her precious family.

  She heard a dog’s playful yapping, then the jingle of its tags, and straightened as the dog came bounding over the rise toward her. “Well, hullo, Spotty,” she said, bending low to pet him. “Where’s your dutiful master?”

  There was much panting and several foiled attempts to lick her face. Unable to resist his exuberance, she knelt to play with the dog, jokingly warning him not to fall into the creek. “You could end up clear down at Lancaster County Central Park and the roaring Conestoga,” she said, thinking she ought to take the spaniel home. Would he follow her scooter, perhaps?

  She picked up Spotty and cuddled him, then heard her name carried on the breeze.

  Tobe was coming down the hill, grinning, the dog’s leash in his hand. “Lucy,” he called to her. “I see Spotty has tracked you down.”

  While Lucy held on to Spotty, Tobe snapped on the leash before setting him down. “This pup wants his freedom, and then when he’s off the leash, he takes off runnin’. Honestly, I thought I’d lost him this time.”

  “I guess you just need my help keepin’ track of him.”

  Tobe laughed, meeting her eyes. “Actually, I was hoping to run into you today.”

  “Me too,” she murmured.

  Spotty played in the grass while they enjoyed the sunshine, talking over the past week since communion. It was Tobe who mentioned the foot-washing ceremony. “It was gut seein’ you there again, Lucy. Really gut.”

  “I don’t know when it’s felt so wunnerbaar celebrating the Lord’s Supper.”

  Tobe nodded, eyes serious. “I was prayin’ for ya.”

  This was so like him—not mentioning the years of absences, supporting her with silent encouragement and prayers, giving her the courage to finally say what she knew she must. “I went to see Deacon Miller and his wife the Saturday before communion,” she said timidly, finding her way. “There are some things I’ve been holdin’ back . . . things I needed to own up to.”

  His expression softened, yet for a moment, she worried, Will he reject me?

  Struggling with the likely consequences, she pressed on. “It’s only fair that you know the reason I turned down your courtship offer,” she said, tears threatening.

  Tobe drew near. “You don’t have to—”

  “I want you to know everything,” she said, continuing with her revelation to the deacon three years ago, and what she’d recently confessed. “You have no idea . . . such a mess I’ve made of my life.”

  “Lucy,” he stated, “don’t ya know . . . I’ve always loved you? Nothing in your past can change that.”

  She sniffled, brushing away tears. “But I didn’t . . .”

  “Ach,” he whispered, eyes bright. “Who amongst us is perfect, jah?”

  She found only acceptance in his adoring gaze and could scarcely believe it. Spelling things out in prudent terms, she lowered her voice. “I would not be a lily-white bride. . . .”

  Tobe touched her elbow, a tender gesture that soothed her soul. “You’ve been runnin’ helter-skelter all this time, showing kindness and love to everyone else.”

  She nodded despite her tears. “S’pose I have.”

  “My dearest Lucy . . . isn’t it time ya let someone love you?”

  The past three years flashed before her—all the striving to be good enough, rushing about and filling up her hours, pushing God out of her life, and holding her family and Tobe at a distance.

  He’s right, she realized, overwhelmed by Tobe’s affection.

  He reached for her hand, and together they watched the water wend its way beneath the bridge. “I’ve prayed for this moment,” he said, turning to face her. “I’ve had ya picked out for a long time.”

  She leaned into him, smiling. Oh, to be as composed as Tobe seemed! “I ne
ver imagined such a sweet acceptance, let alone redemption,” she said, suddenly understanding that the love she was feeling for him must be, in some cautious way, an acceptance of herself. “I love you, too,” she whispered. “Ever so much.”

  Just then, they heard loud honking and tires squealing.

  “Spotty!” Tobe dashed away toward the road.

  Lucy’s heart was in her throat. She hurried to see if the dog was all right, and here he came scampering down the slope into Tobe’s arms, his leash trailing behind him.

  “Is he safe?” the driver called through his open window, his voice shaky.

  “He’s fine,” Tobe assured him. “You stopped in the nick of time.”

  The elderly man nodded, then waved and headed slowly onward.

  Well, for goodness’ sake . . .

  “Did ya recognize him?” Tobe asked, gripping the leash.

  “Remember the gentleman here, on this footbridge?”

  Tobe accompanied her to the parked scooter. She got on and pushed forward while Tobe and Spotty walked alongside.

  “Was that the man?” Tobe asked.

  She couldn’t help grinning. “I’ll tell you all ’bout it . . . while we’re courting.”

  “We’ll have plenty of time for that and many other stories during the long Colorado winters,” Tobe said.

  When we’re wed, she thought, heart dancing.

  “Together,” he said. “Like we’re s’posed to be.”

  She glanced back at the bridge and had a sudden burst of energy.

  And Tobe ran to keep up with her.

  Epilogue

  “SLEEP, SLEEP, MY LITTLE ONE,” I sang, rocking my firstborn—the dearest infant boy I’d ever laid eyes on, all wrapped in the quilted coverlet Martie had made years ago. Baby Jerry . . .

  I walked to the window, not far from the cradle Tobe had built, and watched the sky dimming, twinkling stars appearing. The Sangre de Cristo and San Juan Mountains looked even more majestic in the twilight, rock-solid reminders of God’s blessing—of getting us here safely five years ago, helping us learn to pipe water in to irrigate crops, and helping us to blend our lives with Amish of like faith and tradition already here.