The Atonement by Beverly Lewis Page A

he pushed his dessert plate back and his chair, too.
    Sarah followed him out to the mud room, where she kissed his cheek. “I’ll wait up for ya this time. Sorry ’bout last week.”
    He reached for his best straw hat. “You were tired, dear. No need to apologize.”
    â€œI hope it’s beneficial, ’specially considerin’ it’s an evening meeting.”
    â€œI’ve thought the same thing ’bout the later hour.” He mentioned that the majority of those present last week were working folk.
    â€œHavin’ the extra cup of coffee was schmaert .”
    He liked Sarah’s doting, having her near. “Well, I best be goin’,” he said, glancing around the corner to see where Lettie and Faye were before bending down to kiss her soft lips.
    Sarah smiled sweetly, and his heart was full.
    Outdoors, he and Lucy made short work of hitching Sunshine to the enclosed family carriage. Glancing at Lucy a time or two, Christian decided to ask straight out. “Are ya busy this evening?”
    Avoiding his gaze, she paused, and he realized he was holding his breath. O Lord above, is she considering it?
    â€œIt’s not for me, Dat,” she said at last.
    He sighed inwardly. It had been so long since they’d even ridden anywhere together alone—father and daughter.
    Lucy looked down at her black apron and brushed it off with her hands. “Besides, I’m not dressed for public.”
    â€œWell, it wouldn’t take ya that long to change, jah ? I’ll wait.”
    Ol’ Thomas came scampering over and meowed loudly at her feet. “Hullo, boy.” Lucy leaned down to pick up the enormous gray tom and carried him back into the stable.
    Christian waited a good five minutes or longer, but Lucy did not return. Quietly, he reached for the driving lines and encouraged Sunny forward, around the barnyard and out to the road.

    Just as last week, Dale Wyeth was the greeter, standing in the church lobby as though waiting for Christian to arrive. Sunshine’s harness had gotten loose somehow on the way there, and Christian was quick to express regret for showing up a few minutes late.
    Downstairs, they took their seats in the second row—Christian was relieved to be more sheltered there. The older man with the red sweater was sitting off to the side yet again, in the selfsame spot. His head was bowed as Linden Hess reviewed the first lesson and gave more handouts to the middle-aged woman on the far end of the front row, over where Christian had sat last time. She began to pass them down while the leader shared, much as he had last week, that the Lord is near to the brokenhearted. “I know this from experience,” he said, then asked for volunteers who might have specific things to share regarding that.
    After the testimonies, they began the night’s lesson, which dealt with understanding “the seasons of grief.” Linden also shared that grieving was like a tunnel, one longer than anyone who hadn’t lived through loss could imagine. “It’s a journey of the heart and the emotions,” he added.
    Christian listened, but his mind wandered back to Lucy, wishing she understood how much he cared for her, that he was sorry for the way he’d handled things. Was it only three years ago?
    Linden changed the topic a bit now, discussing ways to change up the holidays, potentially emotional landmines. Grief could also peak around the anniversary of the death or the birthday of the deceased. “Women are more naturally able to express their emotions. We men, however, want to control things . . . especiallyour feelings. We need to know it’s okay to break down. Letting your guard down is a beneficial part of the healing process . . . a gift from God.”
    Christian tuned him out. This would’ve been a good session for Lucy, he thought, wondering what he might have done differently to encourage her