The Atonement by Beverly Lewis Page B

to join him.
    Later, during the discussion time, Dale again shared openly about his father. “The loss seems more final as each day passes,” he told Christian. “Sometimes I wonder how life can go on . . . but I know Dad wouldn’t want me to live in the past. He’d want me to keep my eyes focused on the prize God has for me.” Then, brightening some, he added, “The blessed hope of seeing him again one day really makes heaven seem closer.”
    Christian agreed. “I look forward to that reunion with my father, too, Lord willing.”
    After the meeting, Christian was in no rush to leave, since Dale seemed interested in talking about Amish life.
    â€œI’ve been thinking about raising goats for milk and cheese, and chickens for eggs,” Dale said. “Would you have some pointers for me, perhaps?”
    Christian nodded.
    â€œI’m also curious about hydraulic and pneumatic power,” Dale added.
    â€œAh, that’s Amish electricity,” Christian said, going on to tell him about his own brother’s tools, such as saws and planers, which were powered by a diesel-run line shaft system in the floor of his furniture shop. “Caleb owns the next farm up from me.”
    â€œMan, would I love to see that!” Dale’s enthusiasm was palpable.
    Christian tried to describe the setup at Caleb’s place in more detail, explaining how the various machines in the shop drew power by connecting to a series of belts that rose from the line shaft. And, before he realized what he was doing, Christian had invited Dale to drop by after work tomorrow.
    â€œThanks.” The young man’s face lit up. “I never expected this.”
    Christian gave him directions to the farm, and Dale said he’d call before he came, most likely in the afternoon.
    â€œNo need. No telephones in my house or barn,” Christian reminded him, trying to keep from grinning. “We’re off grid, ya know.”
    Dale was laughing now. “Naturally!”
    On the way home, Christian began to have second thoughts. Why on earth had he thought it was okay to invite a stranger to visit the farm, or to his brother’s shop? He didn’t actually know the man, even though Dale had seemed convincingly sincere.
    â€œâ€™Tis a gut thing Dale doesn’t know I have three single daughters still at home,” Christian whispered as he made the turn onto Witmer Road, hoping that might somehow excuse his decision.

Chapter 8

    E ARLY THE NEXT MORNING , instead of reading the Bible, Lucy removed her wall calendar from the nail and sat at her small writing desk to look over the upcoming week. She enjoyed reviewing where her charitable work and regular commitments would take her.
    Lucy opened her journal, too, and took pleasure in writing about today’s scheduled work downtown with the food truck. I hope Kiana and Van show up again!
    Then, leaning her head into her hands, she sighed, wishing she could do more to help not only Kiana and her son, but all the weary homeless in Lancaster County. But she’d come to her wits’ end about how to extend herself further. And, too, it wasn’t as if she had oodles of money to fund her benevolent hopes. As it was, she brought in very little each month for her parents, only a portion of what she earned from Ray and Martie.
    She put her journal and pen in the desk drawer, still determined to do her part to rescue as many people as was humanly possible. Then she returned the calendar to the wall, where she could see all of next week laid out before her, as well as the weekfollowing. If Lucy were someone whose prayers didn’t bump the ceiling, she might have asked the Lord God for strength.
    She stared at the pretty landscape on the calendar—Amish farmland in Ethridge, Tennessee, according to the small print. She rose to make her bed, recalling last month’s cornhusking over at Bishop Smucker’s, where the