The Atonement (26 page)

Lucy's eyes were wide now. “I never knew this, Dat.”

“
Nee,
and I didn't think ya needed to, till now.” Christian bowed his head for a moment, then continued, looking back at Lucy again. “Eventually, when I came to my senses, I forgave my father, grateful he'd stepped in when he did. And I forgave myself, which was the hardest part of all.”

Lucy was blinking fast, and he wondered if she might cry.

“Ain't something I'm comfortable talking 'bout,” he told her. “I guess some of us in this family are more open to correction—and molding—than others. 'Tis sad but true.”

Sniffing, Lucy slowly nodded her head.

“Sometimes we hold our sin too close, making it harder to
relinquish it to God,” he said quietly. “I know one thing for sure: The Lord's a mender of hearts . . . if we just ask for His forgiveness and turn from our sins.”

“The Heart-mender,” Lucy whispered, wiping her tears. “I think I needed to hear this, Dat.” She sighed audibly. “Just think, you would've missed out on Mamm if you'd married Minnie.”

Christian felt sincerely moved by Lucy's comment. “I'm thankful every day for your mother . . . such a caring and devout woman.” He looked upon Lucy with such a strong feeling of parental affection. “I hope you won't deny yourself the possibility of such a special love someday, daughter.”

Lucy rose quickly. And he did the same, meeting her halfway with a welcoming embrace.

T
HE
SKY
'
S
AS
GRAY
AS
A
GOSLING
,
Martie mused as she washed her boys' faces and let Jesse be excused from the breakfast table, where she'd lingered with them, telling again the beloved Bible story of Jesus and the little children, one of Jesse's favorites.

She set about redding up the dishes, hoping it wouldn't rain till the clothes were dry. Thankfully, Lucy was due anytime now, and Martie could hardly wait to see her again. It wasn't just for the wonderful help but also for the female companionship. Sometimes, it felt like Martie was talking toddler-speak all day long. She looked forward to mealtime, as well, interested in Ray's leisurely talk about his work, though his recent mentions of the families moving west worried her, truth be told. He still hadn't said anything about whether he meant for them to go, too, and she hoped that Eppie had managed to get the facts wrong.
It wouldn't be the first time!

Later, when Ray arrived in the kitchen, he gave her a smile, and she observed his gentle way with Jesse as he stooped to talk with him, asking in
Deitsch
if he'd like to go out and help sweep in the barn again.

Jesse was all for it, practically leaping into Ray's arms.

Dear, patient man,
Martie thought, knowing well that having Jesse in the barn would surely slow her husband down.

Ray winked at her as he headed toward the back door, Jesse waving at her and little Josh. “I have something to tell you at the noon meal,” he called over his shoulder.

She groaned inwardly. Could it be more news about Colorado? She'd heard for sure that James and Joanna were making plans for a move there, possibly when Glicks were leaving. Was Eppie right, and James's talk had influenced Ray, too?

Oh, she sincerely hoped not.

Lucy had opened her journal much earlier than usual that morning, rereading the words she was determined to remember:
“
The Lord is a mender of hearts.”
Her father had stated this with such assurance.

As she dressed and prepared for the day—helping to make breakfast and carrying down the family's washing—she pondered the things Dat had said, surprising as they were. To think her upstanding father had been tempted and gone astray, and yet found redemption.

Might there be hope for me?

———

This time of year, one really didn't have to keep track of the calendar, Lucy mused, already missing the long days of summer as she stayed around to help Lettie wash breakfast dishes while Faye and Mamm put another big load in the wringer washer.

When Mamm returned to the kitchen for another cup of coffee, Lucy remarked about the lack of sunshine.

“Be thankful for all things, Lucy,” her mother promptly reminded her. “That includes whatever weather the Lord
Gott
bestows on us.”

Her firm tone wasn't lost on Lucy.
She's still upset about communion Sunday,
Lucy thought, feeling guilty as usual, knowing she was letting her parents down once again. And because of this tension in the house, Lucy thought it was probably a good thing that nothing was planned with Dale for the week, although she'd likely encounter him on Thursday evening.
If I attend again.

Lucy handed a freshly washed and dripping plate to Lettie to dry just as Faye came running indoors, waving a letter. “Look what I found in the mailbox,” Faye said with a grin. “Our neighbor saw me out sweeping the driveway and mentioned she'd seen a young man put something in our box a couple hours ago.”

“Who's it from?” Lettie wondered, trying her best to catch a glimpse as Faye handed it over to Lucy, who dried her hands on her apron right quick.

“No return address. Just says
To Lucy Flaud,
” Faye told Lettie as Lucy excused herself, and Faye took her spot washing dishes.

In the next room, Lucy sat and opened the note, which she saw was from Tobe. Surprised yet secretly pleased he'd bothered to write, she was glad he was still being friendly.

Dear Lucy,

Good (early) morning! I am writing this before the sun has risen, but I couldn't think of leaving with my family for our Colorado visit without telling you that we're going today. We plan to return in time for communion Sunday, so it's going to be a quick trip.

This will be an adventure, of sorts, as we scope out the possibilities for land to purchase. My father hopes to buy a large ranch and possibly split it up with several families—there'd be hundreds of acres to divide. He'd prefer one with an existing farmhouse and outbuildings, though naturally, Dat will want to build on some Dawdi Hauses, like we do here.

Also, if you hear that our bishop has made an offer on our farm, it's true. Dat has told us the bishop wants it for one of his grandsons. We're all relieved to know it will stay in the capable hands of the People once everything's settled for our move to Monte Vista.

I hope you have a wonderful day, Lucy!

Your friend,
Tobe Glick

He certainly didn't have to write
, Lucy thought, folding the note and glancing toward the kitchen doorway. But going the second and third mile was something Tobe was known to do, and she couldn't help but smile.

As Lucy took her scooter up the road toward Martie's later that morning than usual, Dorothea Holtz came to mind.
Dear woman, how is she holding up?
Lucy wondered, waving to the neighbors out with their six-mule team, harvesting field corn.

She picked up the pace, anticipating seeing the sweet couple again once she was done at Martie's.

After much pleading on her part, Clinton had agreed to tell Lucy the story behind the footbridge that very afternoon.

Martie seemed especially talkative when Lucy arrived, asking what she knew about the Glicks' plans for their recent trip to Colorado. Lucy shared what she knew from Tobe's note. Martie was glad for that much but still seemed rather unsettled to think that people they'd grown up with were heading off to parts unknown. “It just doesn't make sense.”

Lucy assumed her sister was having a difficult morning. Maybe
she was experiencing morning sickness again . . . often worse with twins, Lucy had heard. She recalled having a rough time herself initially, but she couldn't allow herself to dwell on that. Oh, if only she'd carried her wee babe to term—what would it have been like to hold him? Lucy had always thought of her baby as a boy, though of course she didn't actually know, since she'd miscarried so early on. It sickened her that she would never be able to look down with tender love into his peachy little face.

But watching Martie, Lucy felt sure something more than just carrying twins was affecting her sister.
She seems almost agitated.

“What's troublin' ya, sister?” Lucy asked.

Martie sighed. “You know all the rumors flyin' round 'bout one family, then another, itchin' to move out west. Well, turns out Ray's ponderin' making that move, too.”

“Surely not,” Lucy whispered.

Lucy considered this later while she rode her scooter to the hospice after the noon meal she'd cooked for Ray and Martie and the boys.
They would have good company out there, what with Tobe and his family going,
she thought, though sadly.

Halfway there, she realized how much she looked forward to running into Tobe while headed to the hospice and other places around the area.
I didn't foresee how much I would miss seeing and talking to him. . . .

At the hospice, Lucy found Clinton at Dorothea's bedside, cradling her hand in his. She looked like a porcelain doll in her pink satin bed jacket. Clinton motioned for Lucy to enter, asking her to close the door behind her.

“Dottie's had a few days of severe pain,” Clinton said quietly as Lucy pulled up a chair next to him. “She started a new medication yesterday morning, and it's eased her somewhat.”

Lucy's heart ached for them both.

“The nurse says she'll be in and out of awareness as a result.” Clinton sighed, dark circles under his eyes. “It's good you're here, Lucy. Dottie was asking for you.”

Lucy said there was nowhere else she'd rather be just then, aware of not only the dim room, but the gray cloud cover outside the window. She inquired again about the significance of the little footbridge on Witmer Road.

“I'm certainly not going anywhere, so if you have the time . . .” Clinton said, his voice trailing off.

“I'll be here all afternoon.” Lucy's throat constricted as she witnessed the struggle between life and death on Dorothea's petite face.

Slowly, Clinton began. “Have you ever felt instantly at home with someone?” he asked. “That was how I felt when I first met Dottie Kreider at a high school football rally not far from here. Seventy years ago nearly to the day,” he said, his voice cracking.