Though My Heart Is Torn

by Joanne Bischof

  Lonnie brushed dried grass from her skirt. She scooped Jacob in her arms. “Look at you, my wee thing.” Her words were light, but her voice held a thousand sorrows.

  Gideon took hold of her hand, and with surprise in her face, Lonnie watched the action. “Please,” he whispered. “Let me say this. I—”

  A twig snapped. A gritty voice followed.

  Gideon scrambled up and crouched in front of Lonnie. In the distance, leaves rustled beneath heavy boots.

  “Step back,” Gideon whispered. He pressed her behind himself. When Jacob fussed, Lonnie shushed him. Another twig snapped and then another. Gideon peered in the direction of the noise. Figures approached. Men by the looks of it—but he could not see their faces. As they moved between stands of trees, patches of russet flannel and faded green cotton, hand dyed and homespun, came toward them. Familiar colors worn by the men whom Gideon had come to consider his enemies.

  Narrow brown eyes locked with his. Eli Allan. Gideon’s hand instinctively twitched as he remembered his rifle that he’d left back home.

  Eli used the tip of his gun to point in Gideon’s direction. He closed one eye in mock aim. “Whatcha doin’ all the way out in the woods like this?”

  The men drew closer, and Gideon made out each face. Henry. Samuel. Jack. Then he spotted a face that made his stomach sour. Joel Sawyer. They circled quickly, and Gideon counted the faces. Five against one. His eyes dropped to the guns that each man held, and all he could think about was his family behind him.

  “Lonnie, what are you doing?” Joel asked, the barrel of his gun a shiny reminder of whose side he was on.

  “This isn’t necessary,” Lonnie said coolly.

  “It’s necessary if I say it is.”

  Gideon’s pulse quickened.

  Lonnie squared her shoulders and set Jacob down for the briefest of moments. She rose, and a waterfall of leaves slid from her skirt. She picked up Jacob and held him close.

  “Reverend Gardner asked that the two of you meet him at the church tomorrow morning. He would like to resolve the situation as soon as possible. And frankly,” Joel added, “I would too. Get back to the house.”

  Lonnie stepped around him, gingerly taking each stride on the uneven hillside. “I’ll head back when I’m good and ready.”

  Joel grabbed her arm, yanking her toward him. Jacob’s head lurched.

  Lunging forward, Gideon shoved the man, using his shoulder to barrel him to the ground. Joel’s head slammed against the forest floor, and scrambling to his knees, Gideon struck his stomach as hard as he could. He grabbed Joel’s collar and, forgetting his bad shoulder, pulled his arm back—but his fist never came back down.

  Pain seared through the back of his head, and Gideon fell forward—the crack of steel against his skull echoed in his ears.

  Somewhere in the distance, Lonnie screamed.

  Rolling onto his side, Gideon grabbed his head. His fingers felt something warm and wet. He blinked, but the world blurred. Before he could bring his eyes into focus, someone yanked him to his feet.

  Strong arms held him. The angry fingers that clamped around his arms dug into his flesh. Eli grabbed Gideon by the hair and lifted his head. Their eyes met. Gideon stared into the face of Cassie’s brother. Her defender. His childhood friend.

  The cold end of Eli’s sawed off shotgun pressed against Gideon’s temple.

  His heart thundered, but he locked gazes with his oldest friend.

  Eli’s eyes, once soft with kindness, were now brown slits beneath uneven brows. Gideon gulped. They had grown up together, fishing in the summer months and hunting all winter long. Now those days were nothing but a blur.

  “You’ve ruined my sister.” Eli spat out the words. “You used her!” he shouted. His eyes narrowed, and the rough-edged gun dug into Gideon’s skin. “I should shoot you like the dog you are.”

  Gideon had no words to deny what he’d done. The grip on his hair tightened.

  Cassie’s brother glared at him in disgust.

  “Eli,” Jack murmured, laying a hand on his brother’s thick arm. “Ease up, will ya?”

  Eli shook his head, tightened his grip on Gideon’s hair, and cocked the gun with a click. Gideon closed his eyes and heard nothing other than Lonnie’s crying.

  Jack’s voice was sharp. “Eli, stop. This isn’t the way to settle this.”

  Gideon opened his eyes in time to see Jack reach for the shotgun.

  “He’ll do right by Cassie.” Jack’s eyes met Gideon’s, and the severity of his words struck Gideon like a blow to the chest. “Won’t you?”

  Gideon swallowed as the steel warmed to his skin. A bullet still lurked inside the barrel. Eli’s words tore through him. “You’ve ruined my sister.” Gideon knew what his reply would cost him.

  But when Eli’s trigger finger twitched, Jacob’s face flashed through his mind.

  “I’ll do right by Cassie,” Gideon blurted. “You have my word.” He slammed his eyes closed.

  With that simple phrase, he gave up everything.

  And what had he gained? Cassie. His first bride. She had given herself to him completely. Gideon cringed, wishing it had all been a bad dream. You fool.

  Eli did not release him. Jack laid his other hand on the barrel of the gun. “You heard him, Eli. He’ll make good on his word.”

  Furious eyes blinked, then softened with a brother’s sorrow. Eli lowered his gun.

  Gideon did not care about Eli. He did not care about the gun. Turning to look at Lonnie, he saw the despair in her ashen face. I’m sorry. He wanted to wrap his hands around her heart—fend off the pain. Take it. Bear it.

  Yet her chin trembled. And he was the cause.

  Seemingly satisfied, Eli turned away. He paced back down the hillside without another word. Jack followed close on his brother’s heels. Gideon stood motionless as one by one the men started away.

  Lonnie stood there, waiting. Neither one spoke.

  Finally, Gideon nodded toward the east. “Let’s get you home.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not leaving you like this.”

  He started to protest, but she flashed him a look that kept him silent. “Very well then.”

  The candle burned low and did little to light the chilly workshop. Gideon sat on the edge of the bench. He tried to keep still as Lonnie dabbed at the back of his head with a damp rag.

  “Does this sting?” She rinsed the tattered cloth in the wooden bowl on her lap.

  “A little.”

  “Good.”

  He grinned, then winced. “You’re welcome to take a swing. I promise I won’t move.”

  She dabbed at his skin, her touch gentle. “That’s actually quite tempting.” She pressed her fingertips to his collar, which was unbuttoned and folded back to his shoulders. Blood splatters stained the left side. “I just wish I understood why,” she whispered.

  “I do too.” He caught her small hand still pressed to his shoulder, engulfing it in his own. “I have no excuses for not telling you. I wish I could say that it was the farthest thing from my mind, that all I wanted to do was win your heart, not break it. But I know those reasons are not enough. Lonnie, I would do anything to earn your forgiveness.”

  Murky water sloshed onto her ticking-striped apron. Lonnie pursed her lips and dropped the rag in the bowl.

  “You’ll agree to the annulment then.” It was not a question.

  The answer came out of his numb heart. “In the morning.”

  Her words hinted at uncertainty. “The morning.” She looked more grown than she ever had to him.

  But she was too young for such heartache.

  Lonnie lifted the rag, and water trickled from the twisted fabric. Several droplets slid down her pale wrist. Unable to look her in the face, Gideon suddenly found himself entranced with the thin frame of her hands.

  Somehow he had to let her go.

  “I’ll stay here with my pa,” she whispered, her voice tight.

  Gideon lifted his gaze. He
saw the lines in her weary face, the wideness of her uncertain eyes. She was putting up a wall. The pieces had formed block by block since Reverend Gardner had broken the vile news.

  He looked away and shook his head. “No, you won’t. You’ll go home.”

  Lonnie’s voice filled with surprise. “To Jebediah’s?”

  Staring at his lap, Gideon nodded.

  “But what about Jacob? You won’t see him—” His fingers on her lips silenced her. Lowering his hand, he let it rest in the soft folds of her skirt.

  “And I will love him forever. Just as I’ll love you.” He did not have much time to make her see his heart.

  Lonnie dropped her forehead in her hand. “Gideon, you can’t promise that.”

  He turned on the bench, facing her. “I can and I will.”

  “I can’t be that far away,” she choked. “Jacob needs his—”

  “You have to go. This is no place for you, and it’s no place for him. I need to know that you’re safe … that you’re loved. The Bennetts will take care of you and Jacob.”

  With tender movements, Lonnie wrung out the rag. After a moment, she spoke slowly. “He’ll always remind me of you.” She laid her damp hand in his palm.

  The candle flickered, sending shadows across the shop. Gideon tipped his chin to better look at her. He swallowed, surprised by the quickening of his pulse. His other hand moved to her hair and loosened the ribbon that bound it. The yellow fabric slipped free, and he slid it into his pocket. “I’m keeping this,” he whispered as he began to unravel the twist at the nape of her neck. Loosening the strands, he felt her chestnut hair fill his hand. Silk on his fingers. When Lonnie closed her eyes, he kissed one eyelid and then the other.

  “My wife.” The word rumbled low in his chest. Even if only for a few more hours. He was satisfied at the sound of it, yet heartbroken that a word was so important.

  “How can it be over?” she whispered, the ache in her voice as thick as the fog outside the window.

  Gideon shook his head as he released her hair, letting it cascade down her shoulder. It would never be over. There was nothing they could do to change the course of his heart. Though they might bar him from her life, she would be in him and through him. In every way.

  Her sleep had been restless. The hours too few. Because the night before, Gideon had led her home beneath the lantern of a full moon. They had walked mostly in silence as if neither wanted to break the spell. It would have been easier to walk upstream on a stormy day than take the steps she made in the dark hours of night. The steps that took her further from the life that had once been.

  And by the time her head hit the pillow, sleep eluded her. When she finally drifted off, her breathing had been rough. Her sighs many. There was no comfort even in the absence of mind. No dream sweet enough to keep her from the harsh reality that would come with daybreak.

  Weak morning light filtered through the cracks in the roof. Lonnie rose and, taking care not to wake Jacob, pulled on her brown calico dress, sliding it over her shoulders with jerky, careless movements. She dragged stockings the color of coal up her calves, tugging them tight.

  Her chin quivered, and she fought to steady it. But it was no use.

  She slid her worn shoes silently into place and laced them over her ankles. After unraveling her braid, she pinned the twists and curls at the base of her neck with weak, shaky hands. The motions were slow, drawn out. As if to delay the inevitable.

  But it was time to go. Lonnie glanced around the small space, wishing Gideon were here with her. Jacob still slept peacefully. Her mother had promised to listen in on him. With that, Lonnie stepped from the lean-to, glad it had its own door to the outside. She did not want any lingering stares, any pitiful words of encouragement.

  Lonnie started down the trail toward the church, but her ankles nearly collided as she glanced up and froze.

  Gideon stood stone still looking more handsome than she’d ever seen him. His hair was slicked back and combed to one side. His crisp white shirt stood out in the foggy, misty morning. Despite the cold, he held his jacket draped over his shoulder.

  “Gideon.”

  “I just couldn’t waste this hour.”

  She nearly smiled.

  When he stepped closer, he slid his jacket over her shoulders. His earthy scent engulfed her. He fiddled with the cuffs of his freshly pressed shirt. His crisp collar lay folded into place, tempting her fingers to trace the line that ran above the fabric where his hair curled at the nape of his neck.

  He cleared his throat, but his voice still came out gruff. “We better be off.”

  As they walked, their eyes never met, although she felt him watching her when he thought she wasn’t looking. It was better that way. It was better they didn’t touch. It would only make saying good-bye harder.

  The breeze scurried along in its haste. Lonnie held the jacket close as they were surrounded by the cold mist. The walk to the chapel would not take long. Their boots fell into a slow rhythm as they headed away from the small farm. One more hour. It could never take long enough.

  His hand found hers, his fingers so soft and warm she didn’t know how she would let go. Fog devoured the trail ahead, forcing them to take each step by memory. They walked in silence, but there was so much Lonnie yearned to say. He seemed to escort her, his shoulders nearly protective beside hers. Ahead lay the church. She’d never forget the hour they exchanged vows that soggy afternoon. Now, they were returning to undo what had been done. But the deep places of her heart were rooted and tangled—a love like that could never be undone.

  Clearing his throat, he voiced her name. It fell from his lips like sweet honey. Would he ever have a reason to say her name again? Perhaps he would have to whisper it in the silent places of his heart to keep himself from losing his mind. They continued walking, and Gideon waited until he had her attention. He longed for her forgiveness, but that seemed selfish. He focused instead on bringing her peace.

  “I’m sorry for what I’ve done,” he finally managed to say. “I never wanted to hurt you. I never meant to lose you.” He hoped she would hear the truth in his words. “I only loved you. I should have told you my past. I should have let you decide.”

  Lonnie looked at him. “How I wish we could begin again.”

  He stopped walking. “I should never have kept such a secret from you. But truly, Lonnie”—he paused long enough for her to turn toward him—“I thought myself a free man when I married you. I would never have done what I did had I known that Cassie—”

  The shadow that crossed over Lonnie’s face made him wish he had never spoken the name. When she squinted, he knew she was trying not to cry.

  After a long pause, Lonnie spoke. “This is the way it should be.” When she peered up at him, Gideon knew she was being brave for him.

  “I don’t love Cassie.” Would she believe him?

  “But you did. And”—glassy eyes focused on the fog-shrouded path ahead—“you will love her again.”

  Gideon caught her arm, forcing her to halt. “No. I won’t. Please don’t say that.”

  Lonnie allowed him to pull her forward. “What else is there to say? You have to. We had our time. But it was stolen time that never should have been.” Her eyelashes fluttered as she blinked away tears. “It’s time to let it go.”

  The ache burned deeper. “Do you mean that, Lonnie? Is it that simple for you?”

  She walked on, ignoring his question. Her hand slipped from his, and the distance between them grew as Gideon stared after her.

  “Answer me, Lonnie.” He darted toward her and stepped in her path. She stopped. “Will it really be that easy for you? Because if it will, tell me now, and I will do everything in my power to accept this.”

  Lonnie’s chin trembled. “Gid … I …”

  He pulled her close. Lonnie coughed and choked on her tears. He held her face against his shoulder and closed his eyes. Their breathing melted into one as her chest rose and fell against his. His eyes bur
ned. With fog hiding them from the world, he wished they could stay that way forever. When Lonnie’s body shook with sobs, he slammed his eyes shut, sending two tears plunging.

  He kissed the top of her head. “I love you,” he whispered.

  Reverend Gardner was waiting for them when they stepped through the church doors. A fire crackled in the potbellied stove, making the church surprisingly warm. Lonnie slid out of Gideon’s jacket and handed it back to him. Gideon loosened his tie. His pa had loaned it to him. He’d tried to refuse, then in the end gave in.

  Not for Cassie. For Lonnie.

  He grazed her sleeve with the back of his hand. Reverend Gardner eyed the action, and his eyebrows lifted. Gideon stared at him, daring him to speak. The silence was broken only by droplets that fell from the ceiling into a bucket in the corner.

  The reverend was somber. He accepted the paper, and an unexpected look of surprise passed over his features. Carefully unfolding the wrinkled document, he scanned the page and grunted. Gideon began to speak, but the reverend silenced him by lifting a weathered hand.

  “I must admit,” the gray-haired man began, “I am surprised to hold this right now.” His voice dropped to a low murmur. “I could never imagine what this has cost you both.”

  Gideon tipped back his chin, surprised by the man’s blunt sentiment. Had this been the will of the church or simply the personal ambition of Reverend Brown? If so, perhaps it was not too late. “Do you mean to say—”

  “What I mean is, had there been another way, I would have fought for it. But”—Reverend Gardner dipped his pen in the inkwell on his desk and held it aloft—“there was nothing that could be done.” A droplet of ink dripped onto the paper. The reverend quickly scribbled his name. Lonnie looked at Gideon, her eyes filled with unshed tears. She pulled her hand slowly from his. The ink pen fell to the desk with a soft clang.

  It was finished.

  When Reverend Gardner cleared his throat, Lonnie looked at him. “Your ring.” He said it so softly Gideon scarcely heard.

  Lonnie tugged the tin from her finger and slid it into Gideon’s palm. Her head shook from side to side, but she said nothing. She sank onto the pew. Not wanting to let her go, Gideon sat beside her.