The Atonement (16 page)

Lucy was thankful for such a pleasant and grandfatherly jeweler to assist her midmorning, when she quietly revealed that her fiancé had purchased the necklace less than four years ago. “I've scarcely worn it, and I'd like to sell it today.”

Nodding cordially, the white-haired gentleman reached for his jeweler's loupe and held it up to one eye. Leaning forward, he took his time examining the solitaire diamond for its size, color, and quality.

Lucy had decided on the ride over in the Mennonite driver's van to accept whatever amount might be offered. It wasn't her nature to haggle over price.

The jeweler looked at her with kind, even sympathetic eyes as he lowered the loupe and placed the necklace carefully on a navy blue velvet cloth. “This is a remarkable gem—a brilliant stone with no flaws,” he said. “The gold is also of exceptional quality. Are you sure you want to give up this fine piece of jewelry?”

“
Jah,
” she assured him. “I'm ready.”

“It is, after all, a very large stone for . . . such a Plain girl.”

Lucy had thought much the same when Travis had presented her with the piece, but she was grateful now, because it would probably mean more money for Kiana.

“I would be remiss if I didn't say that you could get more for
its value if you received a credit toward another purchase here in the store.”

She shook her head. “
Denki
—er, thank you for the offer, but I don't need any other jewelry.” She really just wanted to be done with this.

“One other suggestion, miss, if I may: You could easily get more for this necklace than I'm authorized to give if you—or someone you know—could advertise it on eBay or Craigslist.”

“Well, I don't have access to any of that.”

When Lucy signed her name to the agreement and, later, when the kind jeweler gave her a check, she had a sense of severing the last ties to Travis, and it felt ever so good. She could hardly wait to deposit the funds into her checking account. To satisfy her mother's wishes, she planned to put a portion into the alms box somehow or other, even if she didn't attend the Sunday the devout observed communion and the afternoon foot-washing service. Lucy shuddered to think that yet another six months had come and gone, and her heart was not right with the church.
Or the Lord God.

T
HE
DRIVE
-
THROUGH
WINDOW
at the bank where Lucy and her family did their banking was still open when her driver pulled into the line of cars close to noon. She noticed an Amish carriage two cars ahead, but that was nothing unusual—her father often made transactions when he was out with the horse and buggy. Even so, Lucy noticed a man off to one side of the lot in his car, taking a video or photo of the horse and carriage with his cell phone. “Well, look at that,” she said to the Amish girl next to her in the van. “I wonder if he asked permission.”

“Everybody's doin' that,” the brunette teenager said, pulling out her own phone and poking this and that, swishing her pointer finger across the face of the phone. Then, just that quickly, she was filming the man holding up his phone. “See how easy 'tis? And nobody asks anyone if it's all right.”

Lucy wondered how long she'd had the phone but guessed it was something that would have to be put away and forgotten about once the girl joined church. Just looking at her, Lucy guessed she was no more than sixteen, which meant she must be in
Rumschpringe.

“My parents don't know I have this,” the girl whispered, brown eyes serious.

Lucy didn't know whether to say anything or not, but she wanted to. Oh, did she ever!

“You really don't know what you're missin' if you can't text friends at a moment's notice,” the girl added.

“Well, I can't miss what I've never had, ain't?” Lucy said. The phone promptly disappeared into the girl's red shoulder bag, and she turned to look the other way.

Between the stop at the bank and dropping the Amish teenager off at the end of her lane, the wind picked up even more. Rain hammered the windshield so hard the wipers couldn't keep up.

The driver slowed and pulled onto the shoulder for a while to wait out the worst. Lucy watched the rainwater swirl in dark pools along the road and shivered. She looked off to the right and saw a scooter leaning against a horse fence, a bright red reflective vest hanging off its handle. Next thing, here came a young blond boy running to get it, with only his little straw hat to shield his head from the fierce weather.

Lucy's thoughts turned to Tobe, recalling his first-ever invitation, years ago. She was in fifth grade and he in fourth when he'd asked to race scooters one warm springtime afternoon on their way back from school. Tobe had boldly left the group of other boys his age to stick his neck out to talk to her while she rode her scooter beside Martie and the twins, who were on foot.

An invitation I accepted . . . and I managed
to win the race!
she thought, realizing anew how often Tobe had sought her out during those years.
But just as a friend . . . or so I thought.

After a time, the rain let up to some extent, and her driver pulled out onto the road again. They crept along, hugging the right side of the road like the other cars in their lane, with the exception of one that sped up and swerved around them, sending enormous waves onto the van's windshield.

Cautiously, the driver slowed. “What's that driver thinking?” he muttered.

Lucy had seen her share of unnecessary accidents caused by cars. Fortunately, she had never been alone in the family carriage when a squall like this one blew in. She wondered if she might be able to adequately handle the horse on her own if that should ever happen.

I told Travis my concerns over that,
she let herself reminisce. She had even shown him how to hitch up, and right outside Mamm's kitchen window, with Mamm watching.
My poor mother surely wondered if she was going to lose her eldest daughter to an
outsider without a speck of interest in the ways of the Lord—or the Plain ways.

Yet after her father had confronted Travis, Lucy never heard from him again.

———

Abruptly, Lucy's driver slammed on the brakes. Her head lurched forward as she grabbed hold of the seat. Before her eyes, another car flew around the horse and buggy that was less than a single car length in front of them. The horse reared up, and Lucy watched in horror as the buggy flipped over onto its right side, crashing against the rain-saturated road, and the helpless horse was pulled to the ground. In one terrible instant, it was over.

“
Gott
help them!” Lucy cried, thinking of the driver and any passengers.
Are they hurt? How could they not be?

Instinctively, she knew the struggling horse must be kept calm so the buggy wouldn't be jolted again, further jeopardizing anyone inside. “Have mercy, Lord!” she cried, and without considering the consequences to herself, she scrambled out of the van into the needlelike rain, running straight to the thrashing animal pinned down against the road in its harness.

Drivers from cars in the opposite lane got out and ran to the overturned buggy as Lucy knelt on the wet road, beside the frightened mare, careful of the potentially dangerous hooves. She
stroked the thick, wet mane, attempting to soothe the horse, its large russet eyes registering terror.

Lucy leaned her wet cheek against the horse's long, wet nose. “
Psch!
Be still—
ach
, please try to be still,” she said in her most reassuring voice. “It won't be long now . . . we'll get you out of the harness.
Psch!
”

Now she could see the Amish driver emerging from the fallen buggy, the right side of his face red and swollen. Behind him, two small children climbed out, seemingly unhurt. The three of them huddled together, appearing somewhat dazed.

Lucy rose to her feet as several people came over and unhitched the terrified mare, freeing her.

Then, of all things, Lucy saw Dale Wyeth straining to right the buggy with two other men.
What's
he
doing here?
But in the next second it came to her: Dale must have been visiting her father yet again.

Still standing beside the shaken horse, soothing and stroking, Lucy was surprised to see Dale talking to the Amish driver, as if they knew each other. Suddenly, Dale leaned down and picked up the tiny Amish girl, and then the not much older brother, taking them both into his arms and carrying them to his pickup.

“Lucy Flaud!” She heard her name as the children's father hurried toward her and the horse. She recognized him as their neighbor Abe Riehl, who appeared to be walking normally, not seriously injured. “Lucy, please go with that young man . . . take Judah and Suzie home. I'll bring the horse later.”

“
Jah . . .
I'll go with them,” she said, crossing the road. More cars were backed up now along the narrow road.

The rain had slowed considerably as she opened the door to the red pickup, still stunned at what she had witnessed. Dale waved her in, and she got onto the front bench seat and gently put soggy little Suzie on her lap. Three-year-old Judah sat cradling
his elbow and shivering uncontrollably between Lucy and Dale, whimpering.

“Shouldn't they be checked out at the hospital?” Dale said, eyes filled with concern as he turned the key in the ignition. Lucy was thankful for her raincoat, since the rest of them were completely soaked to the skin.

“Just take them home like Abe said—I'll show you the way.” She cradled Suzie in her arms, trying to warm her.

The truck moved cautiously forward around the long lineup of gawkers. Lucy was relieved to see the mare much calmer and the carriage on its wheels again. The windshield looked like great cobwebs where the glass had shattered, and two of the wheels were badly bent.

“Are ya hurt, honey-girl?” she asked Suzie in
Deitsch
.

The little girl pointed to her dimpled hand, the back of which was all red and brush burned.

“My elbow hurts,” Judah said, showing her, his face still wet from the rain . . . and tears.

“Any other boo-boos?” asked Lucy, trying for the children's sake to be calm.

Judah rubbed his eyes and pressed his lips together so he wouldn't cry.

“You've got yourself a little bruise, is all,” she said, eyeing his forehead. She wondered now how badly Abe might have been hurt, even though he'd said he was fine. She had known of drivers, and passengers, too, depending on where they were sitting in the carriage, to have suffered head injuries and even death from such an accident. The children must have fallen on their father when the buggy tipped over. How else were they okay?

“Did you get the license plate of the car at fault?” Lucy asked Dale.

He shook his head. “It happened so fast. Was tough to see.”

Now that she'd taken a deep breath or two and felt less
frightened, the whole thing angered her. She wished to goodness cars would slow down around horses, especially on such a stormy day.

“The Lord's angels were present,” Dale said with conviction.

“
Jah,
there's no other explanation for Abe's and the children's safety.” She continued to stroke Suzie's arm. “Turn left at the next dirt lane,” Lucy directed.

Little Judah looked at Lucy. “Ada-Girl was all shook up, ain't so?” he said in his small voice. “But I saw ya calmin' her real
gut
. . . .”

Lucy assured him that graceful Ada would be all right.
Or so I hope . . .
Quickly, she changed the subject. “Your Mamma will be so glad to see you two safe and sound,” she told them, “she'll prob'ly let ya have an extra cookie.”

This brought a half smile to Judah's face, and Suzie let out a small giggle.

“Perfect timing, Lucy—most people wouldn't know how to calm a horse,” Dale said, glancing her way.

“Maybe not most fancy folk,” she said, suddenly remembering her driver. He had surely seen her rush off with the children and Dale.
I'll pay him later. . . .

At the Riehls' dairy farm, Dale stopped the pickup and reached for Judah, carrying him out of the truck through the subsiding rain to the back porch. Lucy took Suzie, moving as quickly as she could without further jostling the poor girl.

Anna Mary Riehl came right out the back door, frowning and wiping her hands on her long black apron. “Well, what's this?” Her gaze darted from Lucy to Dale, then back again.

Lucy introduced Dale as her father's friend. “Abe asked Dale to bring the little ones home. Ya see, there's been an accident.” Swiftly, and in an unruffled tone, she explained in English, to spare the children, what had happened in the torrential rain. “Abe said he'll be comin' shortly with Ada-Girl.”

“Well, thank the Lord yous were there to help out.” Anna Mary held Suzie close and waved them inside.

Dale shrugged as if unsure he should go along, but Lucy motioned him to follow.

Indoors, Anna Mary set Suzie on the counter and pushed a nearby footstool up to the sink for Judah. “Let's get ya washed off
gut,
make sure you're both all right.”

Gently, Anna Mary washed her son's elbow and inspected the bruise on his forehead, finally rolling up his pant legs to check his knees, discovering the right one was bruised. She asked him to move various parts of his body before she seemed satisfied that nothing was broken.

“Kumme
now, Suzie. Your turn.” She went through the same process, kissing Suzie's rosy little cheeks in between checking. She wrapped Suzie in a towel she brought from the nearby bathroom and asked Judah to go into his room and change his clothes.

When the children were reckoned all right, Anna Mary offered a dry shirt and a pair of broadfall trousers to Dale, who said he would be fine. “Are ya sure?” she asked, looking incredulous at him. “It'll be awfully wet sittin' in your truck to drive home, or wherever you're headed.”

Lucy smiled at Anna Mary's dogged persistence, and in the end, Dale agreed and headed upstairs to change just as Judah returned to the kitchen.

“Is there anything else we can do for you or the children?” Dale asked when he returned, looking astonishingly Plain in Abe's green shirt, black broadfall trousers, and black suspenders.

“I'm ever so grateful.” Anna Mary smiled, though she seemed puzzled by the fact that Lucy was obviously familiar with the
Englischer.

Another one, she must be thinking,
Lucy lamented.
Ach!

“You must drop by again sometime, Mr. Wyeth . . . maybe for dessert, as a thank-you from Abe and me. You too, Lucy.”

Little Judah was starting to cry and said he'd lost his hat.

“We'll find it,” Anna Mary assured him. “Someone will rescue it, I'm sure.”

Wiping his tears, Judah marched over and shook Dale's hand. “
Denki, Mann.
”

“You can call me Dale,” he replied, and Anna Mary quickly translated for the boy, which brought a big smile to Judah's little face.