Free The Atonement by Beverly Lewis

that. She simply could not. Getting up, Lucy crept to the window, then stepped back a bit so as not to be seen. It was possible to be spotted this high in the house, she recalled now, feeling ashamed anew.
    Below, her father’s face was animated as he and the clean-shaven fellow stood outside the stable now, near Hurricane Henry’s stall, and not far from Sunshine, their older mare.
    Lucy watched her father shake hands with the young man and, of all things, motion toward the house.
    She cringed. “ Nee . . . ”

Chapter 9

    M ARTIE SMILED AT THE SIGHT of Ray reading her column in The Budget as he sat at the head of the table, waiting for an early supper. “I enjoyed readin’ it. Too bad it’s not out twice a week.” He winked at her and set the paper aside.
    â€œ Ach , that’d be too often for this writer to keep up.” She carried a platter of meatloaf to the table. “Did ya happen to see that red pickup go down the road earlier?” she asked.
    Young Jesse’s eyes went wide.
    â€œI mean lickety-split,” she added, reaching to tie the terry cloth bib around Josh’s neck in the wooden high chair between her and Ray.
    â€œI must’ve been out fillin’ silo.” Her husband folded his hands, ready to pray the silent grace and get on with the meal.
    Martie bowed her head, her heart filled with gratitude for the plentiful meal and for her precious family. These boys, lively as colts!
    Ray cleared his throat to signal the end of the prayer, and they lifted their heads on cue. Promptly, Martie reached for the platter of meatloaf and passed it to Ray, then dished up some for Jesse and Josh, and finally for herself. There were fluffy mashedpotatoes with creamy gravy, and buttered carrots with parsley sprinkled on top.
    â€œWhat’s this now about a pickup?” Ray asked when his plate was full.
    â€œAw, prob’ly nothin’,” she said.
    â€œMaybe it was the man your Dat invited to drop by the farm,” Ray suggested casually. “Your brother James said he met a fella at a meetinghouse last week.”
    â€œJames knows ’bout this?” Martie was surprised, but then again, everyone’s business was known fairly quickly around here.
    â€œSeems so.” Ray smacked his lips and reached for more potatoes and gravy. “Says the young man’s mighty curious ’bout simple ways.”
    â€œGoin’ Plain, ya mean?”
    â€œWell . . . not so far as that.”
    â€œWhat, then?” She’d never heard of an outsider interested in the Old Ways without also wanting church membership.
    Ray glanced at her, gave her a smile, and returned his attention to his food. “Guess there are some English who wanna live more independently, is all. Not be so reliant on electricity and whatnot.”
    â€œS’posin’ it’s not too peculiar, what with some folk worryin’ over the state of our world.”
    â€œWe mustn’t forget that this is God’s green earth,” Ray said, his meatloaf disappearing quickly from the plate. He looked at Jesse and Josh. “The Lord God has His mighty hands wrapped around the world He’s created, protecting it—and us—till it’s time to call us Home.”
    Ray certainly had a way of putting things back into perspective. Martie reached for the serving bowl of cooked carrots and put a small amount on young Josh’s plate. “Lookee there,” she cooed encouragingly. “You like these, Bobbli .”
    â€œHe’ll use his fingers if you don’t give him a fork, dear,” Ray observed.
    â€œ Jah, ” she said, still marveling that her baby was old enough to hold a utensil.
    Across the table, to Ray’s left, there came a thunk . Young Jesse frowned like he might let loose with a wail—his toy pickup must have fallen off his lap. Quickly, he looked to his father for permission to get down and