The Atonement (19 page)

“Someone needs to gather the eggs,” she heard Mamm say as she poked her head out the back door, meeting Lucy as she came in.

Quickly, Lucy dropped her purse at the door, briefly telling about her trip to town, as well as the frightening accident. However, Lucy did not mention Dale Wyeth, nor the time they'd spent together.
No sense in calling any attention to that. . . .

A
LL
THROUGH
SUPPER
,
and afterward during family worship, Lucy remained preoccupied with the events of the day. She was relieved no one asked about her lack of conversation at the meal, not to mention her arrival home in a red pickup truck with an
Englischer
!

She recalled Dale's question and wondered if she ought to return to the grief group.
I can do the assignment, at least,
she thought.
That way I can change my mind later if I decide to go.

Lucy headed upstairs to begin the requested list and sat for a moment, thinking,
What
am
I thankful for?

The old frustrations began to build as more and more of the things she was not thankful about crept in.

Just start writing,
she told herself.

Ignoring the first thing that came to mind, she scribbled down the obvious: food, shelter, good health, and family, then decided to elaborate. She included Martie's encouragement and love, and Faye, but felt convicted that she hadn't thought of Lettie just as quickly, so she jotted down her name, too, along with Mamm . . . and Lucy's many nieces and nephews.
And beloved Dawdi Flaud
and Mammi, too.
Her thoughts went then to Wendell, and she was thankful that he hadn't suffered in his passing, as well as that Belinda had been there to comfort him by sharing about God's grace.
Kiana and little Van are also people I'm grateful for.
Last of all, Lucy wrote the name of her friend Tobe Glick.

“Tobe,” she said and felt a strange wave of sadness mixed with sincerest appreciation.
I should've listed him first.

Sighing, she opened the desk drawer and slipped the list inside, then went to stand beside the middle window. Lucy looked out over the farmland as far as she could see to the south. There was still faint light in the fading sky, and she decided the best way to further contemplate the week's blessings was to take a walk.

Downstairs, she donned her warm black jacket and let Mamm know she was going out for a while.

“Might wanna take along a flashlight,” Faye said, overhearing.

Lucy nodded. “
Gut
idea.”

“You all right?” Mamm asked, clearly concerned.

“No need to worry.”

Ever since she'd divulged that Tobe had asked to court her, Mamm had been hovering like a mother hen.

Dear Mamm,
she thought.
I know she cares.

Outside, Lucy was met by the familiar smell of woodsmoke as she meandered south on Witmer Road, toward the much-traveled Lincoln Highway in the distance. Tourists populated the main thoroughfares this time of year, eating out and spending the day at Dutch Wonderland with their children before returning to hotels or bed-and-breakfasts.

She briskly walked past Uncle Caleb's property, then down toward the sheep farm next door to him, on past to the local blacksmith's shop, too. She was glad Faye had suggested the flashlight, knowing now she'd be out long enough to use it.
For sure.

In the distance, a train whistle blew, the sound melancholy this late-September evening. Soon, the leaves would color to gold,
orange, and red, eventually falling and drying up, to be crunched underfoot. As a child, Lucy had always looked forward to that. She thought now of her school-age nieces Cora and Emma Sue and recalled her promise to visit, making a mental note to do so.

As twilight fell, she heard a catbird's song, its faltering series of short notes coming from the blacksmith's woodshed, it seemed. Lucy knew the bell-like sound by heart, and on this night, it soothed her just as Dale's reading about the heavenly Father's many mansions had reached into her heart. Very soon that catbird would be flying away, just as Wendell Keene had left . . . and Lucy's own Dawdi Flaud. The forest would shed its leaves and open up, permitting autumn sunlight to shine down into its depths.

A dog's yapping startled her. As the barking grew louder, she guessed it might be the Glicks' red spotted spaniel.
Running loose?

Shining the flashlight down the road, Lucy searched for the dog. She passed a stand of mature trees, and her brother James's apple orchard, the sound of crickets, tree frogs, and locusts thick as she went. Farther along, there was another farmhouse, one built with a greenhouse off the south side of the main house. It belonged to Leon Miller—Lucy knew from Mamm that Dat had been sweet on his daughter Minerva many years ago. It had been strange for Mamm to mention that another girl had caught Dat's eye back when.
Does my father know whether Mamm was courted by anyone before him? Or was Dat
her one and only love?

These thoughts stirred up Lucy's memory of selling her engagement necklace. Now, if only her plans for Kiana and her little boy might pan out.

The woodsmoke seemed to thicken overhead, and the dog barked again, much nearer this time. “Who's there?” she called into the dusk.

“Spotty Glick . . . and his dutiful master” came the reply.

Lucy couldn't help but smile. “Out walkin' your dog, Tobe?” she said even before she could see her friend.

“I was comin' to see you. Was thinkin' of storming your house.” Tobe chuckled, his silhouette outlined in the dim light. “Just jokin'.”

She stopped to wait for him and Spotty to cross the road, thinking how nice it was that she'd bumped into him like this.

“Here,” she said, giving him the flashlight. “Since it looks like we're walkin' together.”

He accepted it. “Which direction do you want to head—the same or back toward your house?”

“The way I'm goin', if that's all right with you.”

“So, I received your letter.” He paused, the words hanging in the air between them.

He doesn't seem upset,
she thought.

“I'd like to talk about it.”

She murmured her agreement.

“You made an interesting point, Lucy. You don't feel you should tie me down . . . but that wasn't what I asked you. And what's all this talk about not bein' right for me? Help me understand what you mean.”

“You'll just have to trust me.”

“No explanation at all?”

She sighed. This wasn't what she needed tonight, but maybe it was good to talk it out in person. “I honestly think you should only stay to purchase your father's farm if that's what
you
want.”

Tobe was silent. She could hear his footsteps on the pavement, and the dog's tags tinkling. “You never said I wasn't right for
you,
” he replied at last. “Is that what you really meant?”

She inhaled sharply, wishing she could change the subject. “What if we courted and it didn't work out, and you were stuck here?”

“I'm willing to take that chance.”

She sighed. “Well, it ain't fair to you, Tobe.”

“That's what people do when they care 'bout someone,” he said.
“They take a risk. It's the same with anything in life. Nothing's guaranteed except the love of our Father in heaven.”

She felt like she could cry.
You wouldn't want me. Not if you really knew
me.

“I
can't
take the risk,” she said, her voice pinched. She sniffled.

“Are you okay?” Tobe asked.

She nodded, then realized he probably couldn't see her.

“So there's nothin' I can say to convince you otherwise?”

“Nothin' at all.”

He paused a moment, then said, “Well, wherever you're walkin', I'll go with you, till you're ready to head home.”

“It's getting late.” She could hardly talk, she felt so sad. Next to Martie, this was her best friend, and she was rejecting him. “I should head home.”

“Then I'll walk ya back,” Tobe said.

He shone the light as they crossed the road to the opposite side, and halfway between there and the lane into her father's house, Tobe picked up the spaniel and carried him. She was touched by his sympathetic nature. Tobe was as considerate of the family pet as of anyone who was weary, suffering, or downtrodden.

Tobe talked about helping his father—and hers—drive their cows that afternoon from one pasture into another. His Dat had carried an old walking stick, he said, as they made their way across to the other meadow. “It has a wide crook in one end and is as smooth as ivory. Dat's had that walking stick since I was a boy, and he's talkin' of letting me have it . . . if I decide to stay with the farm.”

“Oh, you would cherish that,” Lucy said.

“Well, the farm's got a long history with our family, too, but none of that's enough to keep me here.”

She felt torn between getting back to the safety of home, and saying good-bye to this wonderful friend.

When they reached the end of Dat's lane, she gave Tobe a
quick hug, something she'd never done before. “Be happy,” she whispered, worse than blue.

“Hey, still friends
, jah
?”

“Of course,” she agreed, certain things would never be the same.
I've caused him such disappointment
.

“Gut Nacht
, Lucy.”

“
Denki
for walkin' with me.”

He turned to go, then came back to hand her the flashlight.

“Can you find your way without it?” she asked.

“
This
road? I could walk it in my sleep.”

She smiled through her tears. That was Tobe. And to think she'd just given up her chance for a lifetime of happiness as his bride.

“I
HELPED
J
ERRY
G
LICK
move some of his cows and their calves to his westerly pasture today, but some of the calves got separated,” Christian told Sarah as they sat alone in the front room. Lettie and Faye had already gone upstairs, and he could hear them laughing and having themselves a good time. “
Ach
, you should've heard those calvies carryin' on—crying and mooin' like there was no tomorrow.”

“The poor things.” Sarah sat on the rocking chair near the sofa, knitting a brown sweater for their grandson Josh.

“Then, soon as we drove the last calf through the gateway, there was a grand reunion, and the cries subsided that quick.”

Sarah reached over and squeezed his hand. Looking down at her knitting, she observed, “Young ones need their Mammas, ain't?”

“That's so,” he agreed. “Jerry Glick told me something this morning that was real surprisin'.”

Sarah glanced up, her knitting needles poised in midair.

“A while back, he offered Tobe a chance to take over the farm completely, eventually buy it outright. But Jerry's downright
perplexed—said Tobe didn't jump. Tobe's waiting, needs to think 'bout it.”

“I wonder why.”

Christian ran his big hand through his hair. “I mean, honest to Pete, this just don't sound like Tobe to me. Does it to you?”

“What . . . that he might want to go with his family?” Sarah asked. “Why's that so surprising?”

“But you know how Tobe's always loved that farm. Besides, I thought he might have second thoughts 'bout leaving Lancaster County.”

Sarah gave a pensive smile. “Perhaps he can't bear to stick around, considering . . .”

“Lucy sayin' no?”

She nodded.

Christian shook his head. “I wish you'd seen him brighten up like a solar lamp when I mentioned Lucy's name today.”

“Tobe's always been crazy 'bout her,” Sarah replied softly.

What's Lucy thinkin'?
Christian wondered.

According to the grapevine, Tobe had dated a few girls, but nothing had come of it, leading many, including Lucy, to speculate that Tobe was too finicky. But Christian doubted it. He had his own opinions regarding Tobe, but he would never call him prideful.

Won't be long, and Tobe could be gone for good.

———

Lucy slipped indoors without being noticed, partly because her father was sitting in the front room with his head back, mouth wide open, snoring. Mamm's hands drifted into her lap with her knitting, her head bobbing.

Upstairs, Lucy said good-night to Lettie and Faye, who said the same, mercifully not prying tonight.

Lucy hurried to the third-floor staircase, put out with herself for having forgotten to remove her jacket downstairs. Going to
the row of wooden wall pegs, she hung it there, then sat with a thump at her desk. Dare she try to finish her list of blessings?

She glanced toward the window and saw only the stars and the rising moon. “I'm in no mood,” she murmured, opening her desk drawer and staring at the short list. Of course she was grateful for these people in her life, but when it came to listing less tangible blessings, she didn't know where to start.

Instead, she fretted over her conversation with Tobe. She saw it now for what it was—two lifetime friends moving away from each other.
Since he's probably leaving.
Just the thought of never seeing him again made her feel depressed. But what could be done? It wasn't as if she could expect him to stay in touch when he was clearly looking to marry and settle down. She was ever so sure he would find someone out west.
Considerate and caring as he is . . . my
best-ever friend
.

She liked the idea of putting that on her list and pulled the page out of her drawer.
Friendship, loyal and true,
she wrote.

“What else?” She twiddled with the pen. Were there any blessings that had come from her time of grief? After all, she was fairly sure that focusing on those unexpected blessings was the purpose of the assignment.
“Saying good-bye takes time,”
the leader had made a point of saying.
“It's a process that
can't be measured.”

Thinking of that, Lucy realized she now had yet another loss to grieve, even though she'd never had Tobe as a beau. Still, the idea of being courted by him had taken up a large part of her reflection here lately. And now that, too, was gone.

Upon Lucy's suggestion, she and her family went to visit Ammon and Sylvia and their children on the no-Preaching Sunday afternoon. When they arrived, Cora and Emma Sue ran to Lucy first, then to Lettie and Faye, obviously eager to spend time with their aunts.

Ammon shook hands with Dat, and he and Sylvia quickly pulled up a few chairs, making a large enough circle for all of them in the spacious kitchen. Lucy noticed they'd redone their linoleum in a muted pattern similar to others' in the community. The long oak table, even the overall layout, looked almost identical to Mamm's.

Lucy and her family greeted each of Ammon's six children, all of them dressed up for Sunday, in case visitors dropped in. The fair-haired boys—Ammon, Jr., ten; Benuel, eight and a half; and twins Cyrus and Crist, six—quietly slipped out onto the back porch after a respectable amount of time visiting. It wasn't long before Lettie and Faye did the same.

Leaning toward Lucy, Cora whispered that she and Emma Sue wanted her to go upstairs with them. “We have a surprise to show ya.” Cora beckoned.

Lucy caught Mamm's eye and gestured toward Cora and Emma Sue, indicating that she was leaving to visit with her nieces.

Up in their shared room, a brand-new quilt covered the double bed, a Nine Patch pattern done in reds, blues, and greens. “Do ya mean to say yous made this?”

“Emma Sue and I pieced it inch by inch, with a bit of help from Mamma,” Cora said, soft blue eyes shining. “We've been wanting you to see it.”

“Cora and I are thinkin' of starting a quilt shop when we grow up,” Emma Sue said shyly, playing with a tendril of light brown hair that had escaped her bun. “What do ya think?”

Lucy clapped her hands. “Sounds just
wunnerbaar.
” Then, remembering Rose Anna Yoder's new shop, she asked if they'd been over there yet. “Mamm dropped by there recently, and I guess Rose Anna has some real interesting crazy quilts she's made from scraps of old neckties and hatbands she's gotten from Mennonite relatives, as well as other fabrics,” Lucy said. “Come to think of it, you might get some ideas of your own to file away for later.”

“
Jah,
Mamma said she'd take us over there soon,” Cora said, resting against the footboard. “Would ya like to see the stitching pattern on the back, too?”

“Absolutely.” Lucy could tell they were pleased with the result of many hours of work.

The girls simultaneously reached for the border of the quilt and gently pulled it back to show off the cotton backing, with its stitching of hearts.

“This can't be your first-ever quilt.” Lucy was amazed.

“It is,” Cora assured her, “but like I said, we had some help from Mamma.”

“Not very much, though,” Emma Sue admitted quietly.

“Well, I'll say you're on your way to becoming master quilters.” Lucy smiled. “I'll know who to come to for my next new one.”

“A Double Wedding Ring quilt, maybe?” Cora asked, eyes dancing.

Lucy gave a small shrug. “You never know.”

“Surely there's a nice Amishman just waitin' for ya,” Cora replied.

There was,
Lucy thought, but she could not manage any further mention of bridal quilts and nice Amish fellows. “I'm impressed with your neat stitching,” she complimented.

Cora took the hint and left the room, returning with the pattern. “I s'pose anyone could make these stitches with this for help . . . don't you think, Emma Sue?”

Emma Sue frowned. “I doubt I could've done it on my own. Would probably take at least two people workin' together.”

“Has Mammi Flaud seen this?” Lucy asked.

“Not just yet,” Cora said. “But she's heard 'bout it, that's for sure.”

Lucy knew the girls' great-Grandmammi would be delighted at their workmanship. “Oh, you must show her, and soon. In fact,
she's planning a little quilting bee, so be sure to come with your Mamma, if you'd like.”

“When?” Emma Sue asked, brown eyes radiant.

“She hasn't said just yet, but with the colder weather and shorter days, I wouldn't be surprised if it's soon.” Lucy thanked her darling nieces for giving her a private showing. “I think Lettie and Faye would enjoy seein' your quilt, too.”

Emma Sue nodded and hurried out of the room and downstairs to get them.

“I'm sorry, Aendi
Lucy,” Cora said, reaching for her hand.

“Whatever for?”

“Well”—and here she ducked her head—“for speakin' out of turn . . . 'bout the Wedding Ring quilt.”

Lucy waved it off. “Don't worry yourself over that, honey-girl.”

Cora's pretty smile reemerged, and she wrapped her arms around Lucy. “I've always loved ya the best of all my aunties, ya know.”

“Ain't you sweet.” As Lucy slipped out of the room to join the rest of the family below, she wondered why that was.

Christian had relished visiting with his eldest son and wife and seeing his grandsons having such a good time when they'd come inside to play jacks on the floor. He'd been delighted to go over and show them a trick or two.

All in all, it had been a relaxing and peaceful afternoon.

Unfortunately, that was not the situation during the buggy ride home. Lettie, in particular, was making too much of her and Faye's recent match-up with two of the Mast boys—Matthew and Mark—which was downright peculiar, even though Christian knew not all dating couples kept to the old hush-hush ways of courtship anymore.

First Lettie, then Faye told Lucy how many times they'd double-
dated, and he knew it was bothering Sarah, as well, because she glanced at him twice, eyes flashing.

He took it upon himself to look over his shoulder, frowning at Lettie. But it was only a short time before Lettie piped up again, mentioning some plans the four of them had together in the coming week.

All the while, Lucy, poor girl, sat quietly, saying nothing at all. Christian didn't have to wonder how she felt. He could nearly feel the tension radiating through the back of his seat.

The courting years have nearly passed her by,
he realized anew.
Does this worry her?

Sarah had shown him something that had arrived in the mail from an Amish singles group in Big Valley, Pennsylvania. Sarah had been so worried the mailing might upset Lucy, she'd held on to it for the time being.