The Atonement (11 page)

M
AMM
LOOKED
UP
from the kitchen table, where she was writing a letter, all smiles until she saw Lucy. Immediately, she set her pen aside and asked, “Everything all right?”

Lucy mutely toyed with the idea of sitting for a while, but she felt too vulnerable and merely shook her head as Mamm held out her hand to gently pull her close and kiss her cheek.

“I don't know what got into me,” Lucy whispered, struggling against more tears. “I'm afraid I hurt Tobe's feelings.”

“You quarreled?”

“It wasn't like that.”

Mamm considered this. “Want to talk about it?”

Lucy covered her face with one hand. “I'm just too tired right now—I know you understand.” She paused. “I'll see you in the mornin', bright and early. . . . I'll be goin' over to help Martie with her washing, as usual.”

Mamm's expression remained concerned. “You sure you're okay?”

Lucy ignored the question. “I hope you didn't wait up for me, Mamm.”

“Well, I was just finishing up a circle letter to a cousin out in Montana—she has twin daughters, too. According to what she writes, the church districts out there are thrivin'.” Mamm looked thoughtfully at her stationery. “Seems there's even more interest here lately amongst our own People in explorin' other settlements—'specially newly established communities out west.”

Lucy wondered if Mamm was aware of the Glicks' plans to leave the area but didn't feel it was her place to share Tobe's news.

“
Ach
, enough 'bout that.” Mamm smiled faintly. “I trust your worries, whatever they are, won't keep you from resting well, dear.”

“
Denki
, Mamm. You rest well, too.”

Trudging up the stairs, Lucy heard the twins chattering in their room, as they often did this time of night.
If only I could talk to Martie,
she thought, hurrying toward the door to the third floor. She'd enjoyed having her bedroom across from the twins prior to the months of her dating relationship with Travis. When her parents had found out about him, Mamm had been unyielding in her insistence Lucy be separated from her sisters.
“Better for Lettie and Faye not to
know you're seein' an outsider.”

Subconsciously counting the steps just now, Tobe's words played over in Lucy's mind.
“You must've known how I felt.”

With her hand on the railing, Lucy lowered herself onto the stairs, trying to grasp what had just happened. “He wants to court me, and I basically refused,” she whispered, leaning forward.

Three years ago, she'd thrown away her life, and she was still paying for it.

To think she'd almost told him how blemished she was.
Almost.
She shuddered. Tonight's ride with Tobe had certainly thrown open the window to her long-buried memories, things she hadn't thought about in so long.

She recalled her secret dates with Travis . . . slipping out of the house on weekends, changing into fancy clothes at a convenience store. Oh, she'd loved the wind in her long hair as they drove in
his beautiful car, their expensive dinners, his irresistible attention, his kisses, his marriage proposal.
And our wedding plans . . . kept secret from the People, including my own family.

Travis's family and friends knew, however, and were all for their wedding, assuming Lucy intended to walk away from her Amish upbringing and embrace theirs. Lucy had kept her engagement private, declining a ring. As a substitute, Travis had purchased a necklace with a large solitary diamond in the middle of a gold heart, which she wore only when out on dates with him, and sometimes alone in her room.

But she'd made a deplorable mistake one night. They both had. And once was all it took. . . .

———

Lucy limped up the stairs to her room and sat on the bed. She leaned against the headboard, reliving the first time she'd met Travis Goodwin, at Central Market at the square in downtown Lancaster. He'd looked like a lost puppy dog, and surprising herself, she'd gone right up to him to offer assistance. As it turned out, he was interested in locating a particular spicy homemade salsa his grandfather had purchased a while back at that market, Travis had explained shyly, glancing at her, then back at the note in his hand, where he'd written the name of the salsa.

The thing that had struck her was his obvious reticence. It was only after they became better acquainted—he showed up at market every weekend to see her—that Travis admitted he had been inhibited that first time because she was so beautiful.
“And so
very Amish.”
He'd been astonished when she approached him.

He was so different from Tobe or any other Amish fellow I knew,
thought Lucy, getting up to light the lamp on her bedside table. She walked to the nearest window and reached for the dark green shade, lowering it to the windowsill, then did the same with the next two windows.

Turning, Lucy moved to the dresser and opened the middle
drawer, lifting up several clean nightgowns. Clear back in the right-hand corner, she retrieved the small fabric pouch she'd made for the engagement necklace. Opening the pretty thing, she pulled out Travis's expensive gift.

It had been years since she'd worn it. Staring at its splendor, she impulsively opened the fragile clasp.
Dare I put it on?

The clasp got caught in her stray hairs, and she momentarily struggled to free it. When she finally looked into the mirror, she was struck by the strange combination of her Plain dress with the dazzling necklace. The showy jewelry no longer held the meaning it once had. In fact, she felt queasy at the sight of it around her neck.
How did I ever think this—or Travis—was right for me?

Removing the necklace, she returned it to its pouch and decided to write in her journal.
I'm done with the past, and anything connected with Travis.

She stopped writing, recalling tonight's ride with Tobe, still marveling at how genuine he was . . . and his misplaced confidence in her. To think he wanted
her
to decide his future—whether or not to take on his father's rolling farm. If she refused him, would he realize there might be better dating options out west? Evidently no one else here had caught his eye.

She groaned as she remembered the look on Tobe's face.
“Will ya at least think about this?”
he'd requested, expecting an answer. And if she refused, he would likely move away.

How do I feel about losing him?

Under other circumstances, Lucy might have happily accepted his offer to court. If only her past hadn't hindered her present . . . and her future.

———

Christian removed his suspenders as he sat on the bed, getting ready to retire for the night. He was keen on hearing whatever Lucy may have told Sarah when she arrived home tonight. “Did ya learn anything, love?”

Sarah was standing in front of the dresser mirror, busy unpinning her bodice. “Something happened, but not necessarily
gut.
”

Christian drew in a quick breath. “And she didn't say what?”

Turning, Sarah shook her head. “Lucy was too distressed to talk 'bout it.”

Truth be told, Christian had hoped for something special tonight. He hung his suspenders on the designated wall peg. “On a different topic, Deacon Ed approached me to say there are a few families in our district leanin' toward moving out of state, hopin' to acquire more land for the next generation,” he said.

Sarah finished brushing her hair and came to bed. “Deacon Ed said this? I was just tellin' Lucy about my Montana relatives, in fact.” He heard her sigh. “Do ya think this kind of interest will increase as time goes by?”

“Wouldn't be surprised, really.” Christian hurried to pull on his pajamas, feeling drained just now. Why was Lucy so distressed after riding with a fine young man like Tobe Glick?

Sarah blew out the light and moved over next to him, and he slipped his arm around her while adding an extra silent prayer for their dear, lost Lucy. Things had been unresolved for much too long.

F
OR
HOURS
,
L
UCY
RELIVED
the time spent with Tobe and his unexpected question. She marveled that he had romantic feelings for her. True, they had always been wonderful friends, but how had she missed this?

Later, she fell asleep, only to awaken in fright from a bad dream, her face wet with tears. The room was still dark, and when she looked at her wind-up clock, she saw that it was only three o'clock in the morning.

Mamm had been concerned that Lucy might not be able to rest, and in the wake of the dream, Lucy didn't see how she could fall back to sleep. As she attempted to quiet herself, a most wonderful idea presented itself. She would sell her necklace . . . to help someone in desperate need.

Early
Weschdaag
morning was the ideal time for Martie to sort the dirty clothes by color; she wanted to get as much done as possible before Jesse and little Josh awakened.

Tomorrow, she could easily complete her next column, excited,
as always, to see it published. Hearing of her sisters' tussle to see who might read it first was encouraging . . . even humorous. Somehow, she imagined Lettie was usually the first to get her hands on it.

Eyeing now the armload of blankets and coverlets she'd pulled out of the blanket chest upon rising, she carried them down to the cellar to launder them for the coming colder weather. She might also gauge Lucy's mood today and decide whether or not to tell what she'd only recently learned from her doctor—something Ray had laughed off as next to impossible.

“We'll just have to see.” Deep in the cellar, Martie set the items down on the counter Ray had made. Then, picking up the empty laundry baskets, she carried them all the way up to the kitchen before returning upstairs to hers and Ray's room.

But what if my husband is wrong?
she wondered, unnerved.
And the doctor is right?

Lucy nearly leaped from bed at the sound of her alarm clock. She felt excited about her plan for the necklace and eager to set things into motion as soon as possible.

Downstairs, she came upon the twins' bedroom and heard them stirring, although Lettie was still buried in quilts when Lucy peeked in. “It's Monday, an' we all know what that means,” she said, smiling at Faye, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, rubbing her eyes with her fists like a child.

Lettie threw the covers back, sat up, and pushed her feet into her slippers. “I slept like a rock, the way I did when your bedroom was across from ours. Sometimes, when I was restless, I'd go in there and stand by your window and look over to Uncle Caleb's place. I've always thought the pasture is prettier from that view, even at night.”

“And I was out cold?” Lucy laughed.

“Well,
jah
, since it seems you never knew.” Lettie glanced at her with a frown. “I s'pose you like your privacy upstairs.”

“It's all right.”

“We do miss havin' ya nearby,” Faye said.

“I never understood why ya moved up there,” Lettie said, clearly probing now.

“Wanted my space,” Lucy replied cautiously.

“And you always liked to move around,” Faye said.

“Even out to Ohio for a time,” Lettie added. “Remember that?”

Prickles went up Lucy's arm.
Does she presume to know something?

Faye went over and pulled Lettie to her feet. “'Tis nothin' to fret 'bout. Don't ya remember she went to help Mamm's elderly cousin Sally? And Lucy's our oldest sister, so she deserves to have the upstairs bedroom.”

Faye . . . always the peacemaker.

But Lettie held Lucy's gaze, intent on knowing more—Lucy could just sense it.

“Well, I'll see you two in the kitchen.” And that quick, Lucy made her exit.

Lucy caught whiffs of cider and strudel as she rode past various farmhouses on her way toward Martie's. Pushing with one foot, she zipped along on her scooter, which to most English folk looked like a bicycle with large rubber tires and without pedals or a seat. Lucy noticed that Witmer Road was less busy than most days, and she guessed the womenfolk were taking advantage of the sunshine to get their washing hung out on the line.

At Martie's, wide-eyed Jesse met Lucy at the back door, opening it with a grin. “Hullo, Aendi
Lucy,” he said brightly.

She patted his head. “Looks like you're Mamma's little helper,
jah
?”

Giggling, Jesse walked with her into the kitchen. “Mamma's
down cellar.” He pointed toward the door and went to sit on the floor, returning to his block building.

Downstairs, Martie looked up and smiled when she saw Lucy coming. “
Guder Mariye, Schweschder!
”
The dank cellar was lit only by a single lantern as they worked together to put the whites into the washer for the first load. “I set aside a bunch of blankets, by the way,” Martie mentioned.

“With cooler weather comin', prob'ly not a bad idea.” Lucy went over to lift some off the pile and noticed a small quilted coverlet done in pastel yellows, greens, and blues. Intrigued, she held it up. “So perty! I've never seen this before.”

Suddenly, Martie had the most peculiar expression, as if she were waking up from a nightmare.

“Is it Josh's—for his crib?” Lucy asked, confused by Martie's strange reaction to something so lovely.

“Lucy, oh, honey . . . I didn't realize that was in the pile,” Martie said, her voice wavering as her gaze met Lucy's.

In that moment, Lucy understood.
This was supposed to be for me. . . .

Martie crept closer. “Do ya remember writing that one letter to me from Ohio?”

Lucy knew what she meant—she'd shared yet another secret in that letter, one not another soul had known about, not even her parents.

Tears came to her eyes as she held up the coverlet. “You made this?”

“I kept it for ya, waiting for your return. It's yours if ya want it.”

“Oh, Martie . . . it's ever so beautiful.
Denki
.”

Martie went to her and gave her a sweet hug. “We both know that the Lord sees the future, so just maybe it'll come in handy one day. . . .” Martie seemed to choose her words carefully. “You really can't know for sure.”

“Just havin' it is enough,” Lucy said, deeply touched.