The Atonement (18 page)

Lucy held her breath, hoping, even praying, it was so.

B
ELINDA
F
REY
WAS
JUST
COMING
OUT
of Dorothea's room when Lucy spotted her. “Have a minute?” Lucy gestured at the far end of the sitting area adjacent to the patients' rooms. “It's about Wendell,” she said quietly as they sat down together.

“You must've heard.” Belinda's eyes were solemn.

Lucy nodded and bowed her head.

“His son flew in from Chicago . . . made it here by the skin of his teeth,” Belinda said. Smiling now, she reached over and tapped Lucy on the wrist. “And you won't believe it. No sooner did Newton Keene walk in the door in his business suit than Wendell asked him if he knew the way to heaven.”

“Wendell did?” Lucy exclaimed.

“He sure did. Remember that afternoon?” Belinda asked. “Wendell not only wanted to talk over many things with me, but in the end, he prayed for
me
, thanking God for the Scripture verses I shared. Isn't that something? Quite a turnaround.”

Lucy was relieved but also torn—she still felt inadequate, unable to have helped Wendell when it was most essential. “
Denki
, Belinda.” She struggled to express her gratitude. “Hearing this means so much.”

“Well, and seeing Wendell witness to his son of God's compassion and grace was powerful. It wasn't long after, that Wendell breathed his last.”

“You must've been with him, then?”

Belinda nodded. “He was so peaceful, Lucy.”

“I'm thankful for you. And I'm sure Wendell expressed that, too.”

“It's the reason I volunteer here.” Belinda smiled sweetly. “Not just to bring comfort but to speak life-giving words.”

Just then, coming up the stairs, Lucy saw Dale, who waved to her as he came toward them, carrying a folded newspaper. “We'll talk again, I hope,” Lucy told Belinda, rising.

“I hope so, too.”

Why couldn't I have done what Belinda did?
Lucy still felt defeated as Dale approached.

“Are you okay?” he asked, a slight frown on his face.

She mentioned Wendell's death.

“I'm sorry to hear it.” Then, waiting a moment, he showed her the newspaper he'd purchased in the coffee shop downstairs, and the five help-wanted classifieds he'd already circled with Kiana in mind. “We can use my phone to call . . . leave a message, perhaps.”

“Sure, that'd be a big help.”

Then, looking in the direction of Dorothea's room, Lucy said she'd like to stop in and visit her. “Since I'm here. Would you wanna come, too?”

“Are you sure you're up to it?” He touched her elbow. “I'll visit Dorothea another time.”

“Honestly, this could be your last opportunity. We just never know. . . .” Lucy had to turn away, lest he see her tears.

———

The white blinds in Dorothea's room had been drawn halfway, and Lucy smiled at her as she entered the room with Dale. “Hullo,” she said. “You've had your share of visitors today
, jah
?”

Sitting up in a chair and wearing a pretty pink and lavender duster, Dorothea smiled in return. Her eyes looked brighter than the day she was admitted. “How nice . . . of you to come, Lucy,” she said falteringly. Then, looking toward Dale, she smiled more broadly, pointing as if she recognized him.

Dale stepped forward, offering to shake her hand. “Dale Wyeth, from church.”

Lucy covered her mouth, realizing he'd forgotten how Plain he looked.

“Well, now, that's one way . . . to get noticed by a pretty Amish girl,” Dorothea managed to say. She chortled along with Lucy, who felt herself blush.

Quickly, Lucy made a point of telling Dorothea about helping at the scene of a buggy accident in the drenching rain . . . and how kindhearted Anna Mary had loaned dry clothing to Dale.

“I see.” Dorothea coyly leaned her chin on her folded hands. “You two could pass . . . for brother and sister.”

Lucy hadn't thought of that.

“There's . . . a sweetness in . . . your faces.” Dorothea coughed, patting her chest lightly and shaking her head.

“There certainly is in Lucy's,” Dale agreed.

Lucy heard footsteps in the hall, and she turned to see Clinton in the doorway, shedding his red cardigan as he came in. “Goodness, the staff must keep the thermostat sky high in this building.”

Dale stepped over to greet him, and right away Clinton complimented his “new look.”

“Dale's gone Amish . . . on us, dear,” Dorothea said, bobbing her head at Dale.

“Well, I'd never have guessed.” Clinton played along. “You'd forsake the grid for the girl?” He winked at Lucy.

Dale was quick to set the record straight, recounting the events that had led to his unlikely ensemble.

Clinton went over to kiss Dorothea on the forehead. He
stepped back a moment, looked into her face, and kissed her cheek this time. “How are you feeling today, darling?”

“Entertained,” she replied, smiling again at Dale.

“You certainly wear the Plain garb well, my friend,” Clinton said with another chuckle, and Dorothea nodded, then pointed to her Bible. “Will you read to us, Dale?” Clinton suggested. “You'll see where I placed the bookmark.”

Dale promptly pulled up a chair so Clinton could sit next to his wife. Clinton leaned hard on his cane as he lowered himself onto the chair as Dale announced John fourteen and began to read slowly, emphasizing each thought. “‘Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in God, believe also in me. In my Father's house are many mansions: if it were not so, I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also. And whither I go ye know, and the way ye know. Thomas saith unto him, Lord, we know not whither thou goest; and how can we know the way? Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.'”

Thinking of Wendell, Lucy did her best not to cry again, glad for the comfort in the promise Dale had read.

Once they returned to Dale's pickup, Lucy was ready to start making phone calls on Kiana's behalf. She soon learned the first two waitressing jobs she inquired about had been filled that morning. “This is what I've run into before,” she said to Dale, feeling frustrated. “I'm always too late.”

“I understand that, but it's been my experience that God is never too late. Sometimes it seems like the eleventh hour has just chimed, and then the answer comes.”

Lucy tried to keep a positive outlook. “I can just imagine what
Kiana would say if something fell into place for her. I know she's not givin' up.”

“And neither are we,” Dale added, pointing to the next circled ad.

She dialed the number, and it rang six times on the other end before going to voicemail. “I'm not sure what to leave as a message—I don't really have a phone number they can use to contact me,” she admitted, hanging up.

“Use my number as a callback,” he suggested, jotting it down on a small note pad he pulled out of the glove box. “And leave your name rather than Kiana's.”

Lucy dialed the number again, and this time it was busy.

Dale placed the last two calls. The final one was answered by a hiring manager who suggested Kiana come in person to interview for a retail position at a craft store in Bird-in-Hand, tending to shelves and welcoming and assisting customers. Lucy found herself holding her breath as Dale took it upon himself to say that he would see to it that Kiana got to the interview this coming Monday afternoon.

Is he doing this for Kiana . . . or to impress me?
Lucy wondered.

When Dale put away his phone, he asked how to locate Kiana to tell her about this possible breakthrough. “I can drive you to the shelter where she stays,” he offered.

“If she's still there.” Lucy considered several other locations where Kiana might have gone, one of which was the Salvation Army's program. “No matter what, if we can find her, I know she'll be thrilled about this news.”

“We could go in search of her tomorrow afternoon,” Dale said now. “Since there's so little time before the interview.”

“Well, it's our visiting Sunday, so maybe after my family returns home.”

They decided on a time before supper when Kiana would perhaps be at one of the soup kitchens. “One way or other, I think we can find her,” Lucy said, excited about Dale's help.

On the ride home, Lucy pointed out Ray and Martie's house. “My sister's a writer for a newspaper based in Ohio,” she explained. “She has a weekly column.”

“So, like an Amish blogger?” Dale asked, a twinkle in his eye when he turned to glance her way.

“A what?”

He explained, but Lucy still didn't understand.

“I'd be hard-pressed to have ever seen a blog,” she said.

“You'd be surprised what people write about. Some have whole blogs dedicated to old-fashioned topics like the art of preserving food or raising livestock.”

Lucy laughed. “Seems like a peculiar place to learn 'bout all that. My Dawdi
used to say you learn the most just by doin'. Why, think of what you're going to learn once you get your laying hens!”

Dale chuckled. “I need to finish building my chicken house first. Once it's complete, your father has said I can purchase some hens from him.” He also mentioned the goats he was planning to purchase from a Mennonite family in Conestoga.

Lucy found this very interesting. “Do
you
own a plot of land?”

He laughed. “A plot? I guess that's the best description of a patch that's just big enough to plant the necessary vegetables. I had a good crop of lettuce, radishes, tomatoes, cucumbers, and squash this year, by the way.”

“Round this time of year, I'm always amazed to think our lovely garden is the culmination of my spring plans. Well, my twin sisters' and mine.”

“With the three of you planting, weeding, and harvesting, it must be more fun. Working together always is.” He grinned.

“It's how we've done it since I could pick up a hoe,” Lucy said. “A
gut
way to help out Mamm, too.”

He talked about his drafty old farmhouse then, saying it was on the outskirts of Bird-in-Hand, only a few miles from his store. “It's about a third as large as your father's.”

“You might need only a modest coal stove to make it toasty—if you're thinkin' of disconnecting from central heating. That or a woodstove could heat the main level real nice.”

Dale nodded brightly. “Things are starting to fall into place, thanks to all the help I've gotten, especially from your dad.”

When her father's farm came into view, Lucy thanked Dale for the ride home.

“It was my pleasure,” he said, looking her way.

She smiled and pointed at his homemade shirt. “Do ya remember how to get to Riehls' to return Abe's clothes when you're ready?”

Dale said he did. Then his eyes grew serious. “Do you plan to attend the next grief group?”

“I'm not sure yet.”

He made the turn into their lane. “If you do, would you like to discuss the class together sometime?”

“Well, I'm awful busy,” she said, surprised Dale would ask her. Besides, she'd already looked ahead to the rest of the curriculum and wasn't sure she was brave enough to attend.

Thanking him again, Lucy got out of the truck before he could come around to open her door for her, as he had last time.

Then, swiftly, lest her family observe her with Dale and misunderstand, she hurried around the side of the house and up the steps to the porch. It was too chilly to sit outside and brood, but she would have much preferred time to just sit and contemplate the day's events, particularly Wendell's passing.
Thank goodness it was peaceful.