The Atonement (30 page)

L
UCY
WAS
SURPRISED
to see Deacon Miller's eyes light up when she arrived at his farmhouse in the pony wagon the next afternoon. His wife, Annie, smiled warmly, inviting her inside. She led Lucy to sit at the kitchen table with the deacon before returning to rolling out piecrusts for the meal to follow tomorrow's communion and foot-washing service, which would last nearly all day.

“There are things I've needed to tell ya, Deacon . . . things I held back,” Lucy said, beginning her freewill confession. “I'm sorry it's taken me this long to be ready.” She was astonished at how much easier this was than the last time. Coming clean was required in order to partake of communion, and having finally asked God's forgiveness with a contrite heart, Lucy felt free now to reveal her past misdeeds to Deacon Edward.

The deacon was sympathetic yet firm when he posed his question. “Why did ya withhold a full confession back then?”

Lucy hung her head for a moment, breathing a prayer for divine help. “I was too embarrassed to tell all, and angry at my father for forcing me and my
Englischer
husband-to-be apart—and for
makin' me leave to live faraway with a relative I didn't know. But I realize that's a poor excuse, and I ask your forgiveness. My relationship with Travis Goodwin was something I chose, and I don't blame anyone else for the consequences. You see, Travis was not only my fiancé . . . he was also the father of the baby I lost to miscarriage.” As she said the words, a sense of relief—and peace—washed over her.

Deacon nodded his head slowly, eyes moist. “Lucy, the fact that you have come to confess on your own, without persuasion, indicates you are sincere in your repentance.”

Lucy bit her lip. “I surely am.” She expected he might put her off church for several months or longer, which she certainly deserved.

He paused. “Have you forgiven your father for the past?” His eyes pierced her. “Because as I see it, that may well be the very next place to start.”

Lucy bowed her head, acknowledging his wisdom. She waited for his pronouncement of punishment.

But none came. Instead, Deacon Miller encouraged her to join the membership for communion and foot washing tomorrow, if her heart was ready. “Will you be amongst us?”

“It's a kindness I certainly wasn't expecting, Deacon,” she said gratefully. “I prayed the prayer of King David yesterday, and I trust my heavenly Father to forgive me.”

The deacon smiled. “He alone is faithful to cover our sins.”

Later, when she said good-bye to Annie, Lucy was amazed that the deacon had said nothing about her friendship with Dale Wyeth.
He didn't even hint at it.

Feeling nearly weightless, Lucy was tempted to skip to the pony cart. She was deeply affected by the acceptance and compassion Deacon Edward had so kindly demonstrated. Now she wished she'd had the courage to do this years ago.

Back at home, Lucy washed her hands and helped Mamm with supper preparations while the twins worked with Dat in the barn. Her heart warm, Lucy even asked if they might include Mammi tonight for the meal. “I think she'd really like that,” Lucy said, eager to hurry next door right away with the news.

“By the looks of ya, dear, I think
you'd
enjoy it most,” Mamm said, grinning. “You're all aglow.”

“Confession's
gut
for the soul, Mamm. I never knew what that meant till now.” She sighed, wondering how her mother would respond to what else she had to share. “And that's not all: I also talked to the deacon today—made things right at last.”

Mamm's eyes filled with tears. “Then I 'spect you'll be present tomorrow?”

Nodding, Lucy said, “Our family is united in preparation for the remembrance of the Lord's Supper.”

Mamm moved to embrace her. “Oh, my dear girl,
Gott
has truly answered my prayers.”

Twilight would be falling soon, but Lucy waited till after supper that night to talk to her father, knowing he would go out to check on the livestock one last time before family worship.

A scrap of the setting sun was still visible over the distant ridge—a brilliant benediction to the day. Chipmunks and birds would soon have a heyday in the clearing behind the woodshed, looking for the bits of nuts Faye regularly spread out at dusk.

Thinking of the deacon's kindly reminder, Lucy made her way to the stable, where she found Dat grooming Sunshine, humming a hymn like Jerry Glick often did, only more softly.

Her father looked up, eyes registering happiness.

“I've come to apologize,” she said, going to the gate and leaning on it as he had done another evening. “I know this is rather
late, but I'm sorry I brought shame on you and Mamm . . . and disgrace to our family.”

“Oh, Lucy. Of course I forgive you.” He put down his curry brush and went to her, standing on the other side of the gate. “Pushing you away was the worst thing I could've done. It caused further pain for you . . . for both of us.” His look was supportive, the light from the large barn lantern creating a golden sheen around him. “I've earnestly prayed that you'd forgive
me
one day, as well.”

She saw the fervor on his face. “I do forgive you, Dat. And now I realize why I waited so long. I was tryin' to pay penance for my disobedience.” Lucy touched the back of his hand, and he placed his on top of hers and clasped it there. “It means so much that you loved my poor baby enough to attend the grief classes, Dat. I've never told ya, but it truly does.”

He shook his head. “Losin' your little one thataway was mighty distressing, and I grieved sorely.” He paused, patting her hand, then reached to open the gate to the next stall. “But that's not why I started goin' to the Thursday night meetings.”

Lucy absorbed this. “Was it Dawdi's passing, then?”

Her father's chin trembled. “As difficult as losin' my lifelong best friend was . . .
nee
.”

She was puzzled. What other reason was there?

Dat turned to pick up the lantern, moving to Caney's stall now.

“Why
are
ya goin', Dat?” she asked, gathering up the grooming items from Sunshine's stall and carrying them over.

He stroked the horse's mane. Then, looking her way, Dat said softly, as if struggling to contain his emotion, “Because I'd lost
you
, daughter.”

Lucy let out a little gasp, and seeing him stricken there, she ran to his side.

Slipping his arm around her shoulders, her father whispered, “'Tis all right now. Everything's gonna be fine.”

Y
EARNING
TO
GO
OUT
WALKING
,
as she often did at dusk, Lucy wanted to process all that had taken place these past days . . . especially the cherished moments between her and Dat.

She turned south past Uncle Caleb's farm and beyond, recalling the evening Tobe and his dog, Spotty, had come this way . . . and their difficult conversation. Seeing carriage lights, she moved farther off the roadside, carrying Dat's flashlight directed at traffic for good measure.

The moon was on the wane, which made it easier to see the stars—luminous dots of light against the ever-darkening sky. She swung her arms as she went, hankering to see the Glicks' big farm, recalling the fun she'd had there as a child—playing in the vast haymow, flying through the barn with Tobe on the rope swing.

“What can it hurt just to wander over there?” she murmured, supposing the Glicks might be gone yet.

Crickets still chirped in the ditch along the road, since there had been no frost. High overhead, an airplane rumbled past, drowning out the pastoral symphony. The familiar narrow lane appeared, and she turned in, noticing the glow of gas lamps in
the front room and the kitchen behind. She thought of turning back, but seeing the Glicks were home, Lucy decided she might better explain her reasoning to Tobe—why she hadn't accepted his courting invitation.

A raccoon scuttled across the driveway as she strained to see past the barnyard. Picking up her pace, she spotted Tobe in the stable door, reaching high for the hayfork.

She hurried toward him, unsure what she might say if his father or his older brothers were also present.

But it was only Tobe who turned and saw her coming, his eyes wide as he motioned her inside.

“
Denki
for your note,” she said first off. “It was nice to know what you'd be doin' out in Colorado.”

His brown eyes shone in the lantern's light. “Mighty nice seein' ya, Lucy.”

“How was your trip?”

He laughed a little. “It was a long time getting there and back, and not as much time in Colorado as I would have liked.” He reached up to remove his straw hat and rubbed his neck. “Monte Vista is like a whole different country, really. Mighty dry . . . no humidity to speak of. And the altitude is higher than here—makes your skin prickle. The town is in the shadow of two narrow, jagged mountain ranges.
Ach
, I wish I had some pictures to show.” He pointed in the direction of their eastern hills. “There's no comparison to those.”

“Plenty of land, too?”

He nodded. “I wish you could see those wide, open spaces . . . even the sky looks bigger there.” Tobe paused thoughtfully before he continued. “Dat had all his options lined up before we ever arrived . . . had a clear idea of what he wanted. He made an offer on nearly a thousand affordable acres, which we'll split with several families. The seller accepted right away.”

So this seals it,
she thought.
Tobe's really leaving.

“Lucy? You look sad.”

She made herself smile. After all, this was to be a happy time for his family. Quickly, she mentioned that Faye was also planning to go to Colorado with the Masts, at Mark's request. “Quite honestly, I dread bein' separated from her,” Lucy said, heavyhearted.

“Mark and Faye must be real serious.”

“
Jah,
and it's no secret now. But what a
wunnerbaar
new beginning for her . . . and for all of you.” Forgiveness was like that, too—a clean slate, she thought.

“I heard that Ray and Martie and their family will likely join us, maybe in a couple of years.” Tobe leaned on the hayfork.

Lucy grimaced. “You'll get to see little Jesse and Josh grow up.”
And the twins yet to be born,
she thought with envy.

“Maybe your family will go out sometime to visit them.” He sounded surprisingly hopeful.

She smiled. “I'd like that. Just glad the big move's not happening for a while yet.”

Tobe shifted his weight and glanced toward the house. “Guess I'm fortunate my family can stay intact.”

I'm happy for them. . . .
She wished Tobe all the best in his new life, wanting it to be everything he hoped for.

Unexpectedly, he picked up the lantern and rested the hayfork against the wall, then waved for her to depart the stable with him. Lucy followed as they walked west, along the field lanes, out past the cornfield, to the large pond. They strolled along its border, Tobe caught up in telling about the ten-year-old Amish settlement in Monte Vista, about the initial challenge the Old Order community had had in creating a new church district. Most Plain families there were making a living raising hay and sheep, or building log cabins or storage sheds, and the women created home arts—crafts and food items—to sell. “There's a smidgen of tourism, but nothin' like here. Plenty of privacy.”

As always, Tobe's optimism was appealing, and she lost herself in the rhythm of his words.

As they approached the opposite side of the pond, he brought up the large turnout expected for the church service tomorrow at the bishop's house. “My parents were worried we wouldn't get back in time for communion tomorrow.” Tobe looked fondly at her. “Our last one here . . .”

The lantern's light dipped and danced across the grass ahead of them. Oh, she wanted to open her heart to him. Didn't he deserve as much?

Even so, the old arguments sprang to mind as she looked into his dear face.
Nee,
she thought.
Better that he remembers me like this.

They made their way clear around the pond; then, still sharing about his Colorado adventure, Tobe insisted on seeing her safely home. And Lucy was more than content to accept.

Christian read beyond the usual number of chapters from the old
Biewel
that evening, taking his time. Now and then, he glanced at Lucy, grateful for their renewed father-daughter relationship, mended over the course of a few days.

When they knelt for prayer, he used the
Prayer Book for Earnest Christians,
choosing a prayer of gratitude to read aloud before they silently said their rote prayers.

And long after the family had retired for the night, when the hush fell over the house, the verses Christian had read aloud from Ephesians lingered in his heart:
But God, who is rich in mercy, for his great love wherewith he loved
us, even when we were dead in sins, hath quickened us together with Christ, (by grace ye are saved). . . .

A chill was in the air early Lord's Day morning as Martie made her way across the bishop's walkway, toward the line of women waiting to go into the temporary house of worship. Colorful leaves floated down as she spotted Ray carrying little Josh and holding Jesse's hand, and her heart swelled with thankfulness for her husband.

Bishop Smucker and his wife were the hosts for the autumn
Gross Gmay—
“big church”—a solemn yet joyous gathering commemorating their agreement of unity and peace. And most of all, a time for renewing their dedication to God and to one another as a people set apart.

In all the years of her church membership, Martie had gladly embraced the spiritual journey that took place prior to the spring and fall communion services, and the time of reflection and recommitment to God and the church. This particular assemblage of the People would span morning and afternoon until close to four o'clock, when dairy farmers would return home for milking.

It did her heart good to see Lucy in attendance.
Blessed be the Lord,
Martie offered up as airy sunbeams poured through the windows.

———

A sacred time followed the singing when first the bishop, and then each of the ministerial brethren, reconfirmed his harmony with God and the congregation—the
Gmay.
Then, one by one, the rest of the membership declared peace with their heavenly Father.

After the two sermons, which centered on Christ's crucifixion, each member partook of the bread and the wine representing the Lord's body and shed blood.

Martie was heartened when Lucy went out of her way to choose Lettie as her partner for the foot-washing ritual. Martie well knew that Lucy had struggled with that sister's pointed remarks, especially the past few years, and since this was Lucy's first communion
service since her return from Ohio, broken and despairing, Martie believed the choice was significant.

The People sang a hymn from the
Ausbund
as the members tenderly washed and dried one another's feet, the men and women separately. Martie could see Lucy's tears from where she sat as Lucy humbly stooped to wash Lettie's bare feet in the small tub of warm water, demonstrating more humility than had she knelt.

Mamm washed and dried Martie's feet, and when Martie had done the same for her, they each offered the other a holy kiss. Mamm's face was solemn as she said to Martie, “May the Lord God be with us,” and Martie replied, “I say amen to peace.”

Later, when it came time to reverently depart the house, checks and cash were placed in the alms box, a twice yearly collection taken up for the needs of the community.

Martie was delighted when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lucy open her purse and slip something in the box. It was one more indication that her once wayward sister had returned safely to the fold.

Yet what will Lucy do about her English friend?

Martie could only wonder.