Though My Heart Is Torn

by Joanne Bischof

  “Probably off on a coon trail or some such nonsense.” Cassie elbowed Gideon in the ribs. “Remember the time you all went out huntin’ for squirrels and got lost? By the time supper was on the table, Pa had to go look for you boys. You couldn’t have been much more than ten.”

  Gideon took another sip. “Who’da thought your brothers could get lost in their own backyard? Guess that’s what happens when the sun goes down.”

  Mary smiled.

  “All I remember was the four of you up to your knees in mud and not a squirrel to be seen.” Still laughing, Cassie reached for her cider. She bumped the glass, and it crashed against Gideon’s plate.

  Cold cider trickled into his lap, and he jumped. “Oh, Lonnie!”

  The room fell silent. Panting, Gideon glanced at Cassie. Her face paled.

  “Gid, I …” Her chin trembled. She dropped her napkin to the table. Her chair skidded back. Before he could stop her, she flitted from the kitchen.

  He felt heavy gazes as he swiped at the spill with his napkin and brushed the cider from his pants. “I …” His neck burned, and he glanced to the door. The auburn liquid trickled to the floor.

  Lonnie? You idiot.

  “I … excuse me.” He jogged through the kitchen and pushed past the back door.

  Cool night air hit his face. “Cassie?” he called into the darkness.

  With a full moon out, it did not take long for him to spot her running for the cabin. In a few short moments, his long strides overtook hers, and he caught her by the wrist.

  “Cassie,” he breathed.

  She wriggled her arm and yanked away.

  He caught up to her, circling her small wrist gently with his hand. “Cassie, wait. Stop.” He dug his heels into the rain-soaked ground. She kicked at him. “Cassie,” he panted.

  She tugged once more, then stilled. Her other hand brushed across her eyes before turning around.

  “I’m sorry.” Gideon wished he could say it less plainly. “I really am.”

  Reaching out, he grabbed hold of her other hand so she faced him. Dipping his head, he tried to catch her gaze. “It slipped out.” Cold air bit through his shirt, and he suddenly wished he had a coat to offer her.

  Cassie sniffed. She would not look at him. “I don’t believe you. It meant everything.” Her voice wavered. “She means everything.”

  His eyes slammed closed, and he breathed away the seconds. “She’s not my wife anymore,” he said flatly. “You are.”

  Pulling her hand free, Cassie wiped her sleeve beneath her nose. Her hair whipped in the wind, and she collected the unruly strands before twisting it over her shoulder. Moonlight played with her features, taunting him. “That means nothing, and you know it.” In the dusky light, her eyes searched his. They searched his soul, and Gideon hoped that the truth, hidden in the depths, would not be seen.

  “It … it will,” he lied.

  “Then say you don’t love her.”

  That he couldn’t do.

  She was shaking.

  “It’s too cold for you out here without a coat.” He tilted his face to the tar-black sky and stared at the glitter of stars, wishing it were in him to say more.

  “I better go help Ma clean up,” Cassie murmured. She ran her fists over her eyes. Her rosebud mouth trembled from cold, and Gideon forced his gaze away. She was too pretty to linger on. He gently touched her elbow, helping her back toward the house.

  She seemed to relax beneath his touch. Taken aback, Gideon pulled his hand away.

  Wind howled against the side of the house, and Cassie folded her arms in front of her, convinced the cold was seeping through the cracks in the cabin walls. Knowing there was nothing she could do to help, she paced the floor. At the sound of splintering wood, she lifted her eyes to the ceiling and imagined Gideon on the roof.

  When the wind changed directions, icy sleet pounded against the window, and Cassie peered out, hoping to catch a glimpse of Gideon. Instead, she watched in dismay as another shingle flew past. Sleet slapped against the glass, and Cassie jumped back. Poor Gideon. He could not do this alone.

  Shuddering, she turned to face the empty room. How long had he been out there? What little light worked its way through the storm would soon be gone, and he was surely far from finished. Cassie couldn’t wait any longer. She darted into the bedroom and slipped another petticoat beneath her striped dress, then grabbed a second pair of wool stockings. She dressed near the fire and made certain to set another piece of oak onto the coals before heading toward the door.

  Throwing on her coat, she made quick work of the army buttons before grabbing her shawl. The wind rattled the door. She eyed the latch, half expecting it to break open. She draped her shawl over her hair and tucked the loose ends inside her coat. Something banged against the roof, and even as her hand fell on the doorknob, she prayed her husband was being careful.

  An icy gust enveloped her, and it took all her strength to keep the door from flinging out of her grasp. Cassie hurried outside and used the weight of her body to push the door shut. Her shawl caught, and she wrenched it free. After tucking it back into place, she tightened the collar of her coat. Sleet swirled around her. For a moment, she hesitated, then stepped away from the safety of the porch.

  Tilting her face to the gray sky, Cassie searched the roofline. “Gideon!”

  She shut her eyes when the wind blew a gust of wet snow into her face. Cassie ran her hand over her eyes, certain her voice had been lost on the wind.

  “What are you doing out here?” Gideon hollered from the edge of the roof. Crawling on his knees, he slid a nail from his lips and pounded a shingle into place. Another snapped, and the pieces darted away on the wind. Gideon lowered his head and tossed his hammer to the side.

  “I’ll get it!” Cassie called.

  He waved her down. “It’s no use,” he shouted. “Broke clear in two.” He paused and stared at the land below him. Another blast of snow pounded them, and he threw his arm up to block his face. When the snow settled, Gideon pointed. “There.”

  Cassie turned to look.

  “Two shingles are over there. See if you can get them.”

  Her boots slid in the wet snow as she struggled to run. When she slipped, Cassie yanked her hands free from her warm pockets and used her arms for balance. The cold stung her bare skin. Her gloves were in the house. She imagined them on top of her dresser where she had left them.

  Cassie spotted the first shingle wedged in the snow. She grabbed it and clutched it to her chest as she searched for the other. With a life of its own, the wind blew a fresh layer of white powder across the land. The piece of wood vanished from sight, and Cassie knew it was hopeless to search.

  She ran back to the cabin and braved the first two rungs of the ladder before another gust struck the side of the house. “Gideon!” she shrieked. Sleet stung her neck and ears. She closed her eyes as her frozen fingers clung to the ladder.

  A sure voice called to her. “I’m here.”

  She looked up to see him staring down at her. The snow seemed to settle and the wind softened. For the first time that day, the land quieted enough for Cassie to hear her frantic breathing.

  “I’m here,” he said again.

  She wanted to cry, but Cassie lifted a stiff arm and held the shingle out for Gideon to take.

  His fingers barely grazed the wood. “Can’t quite reach it.”

  A gust crashed against the house, rocking the ladder. Swallowing her fear, she urged her feet to move up one more rung. She prayed it would be enough for Gideon to reach. His gloved hand grabbed the wood, and it left her grasp.

  “Got it!”

  She let out the breath she’d been holding and scrambled down. She scanned the yard. Shingles littered the ground. Time seemed lost to her as she tried to gather what she could. With several in her grasp, she rushed back to the cabin. As if she had awakened a sleeping bear, the wind that had mellowed engulfed her in an icy whirl. She lifted a shingle to protect her face, but
the wind’s angry fingers snatched it from her grasp.

  Cassie yelped and grabbed her stinging hand in time to see blood surface on her palm. Looking away, she stared at Gideon, who stumbled along the roof. The wind tore at his coat, but he bent and pounded another nail in a single blow. Clambering back up the ladder, she lifted the three shingles she’d managed to hang on to.

  When one flew from his grasp, he thanked her for the two he was able to grab hold of. Her legs shook as she stepped back down. They fought a battle they could not win. Jumping from the last rung, she crouched against the house and studied her injury. A shard had embedded itself into her hand, leaving drops of blood smeared across her palm. With frozen fingers, she tried to pull it free, but it was too deep. She winced.

  Suddenly, Gideon was kneeling behind her, his face close. “It’s no use,” he murmured and wrapped a broad hand around her arm. “Let’s get inside.” The words fell warm against her ear when he helped her to stand. “I’ll deal with the damage after this storm has passed.” Unable to argue, she leaned into the shelter of his chest and allowed him to lead her around to the porch.

  He held the door open long enough for her to slip inside, and the wind slammed it shut behind them. Still shaking, Cassie sank into the kitchen chair. The fire crackled in the small stove, and as her hands thawed, the pain of her injury intensified.

  “Gideon,” she mumbled.

  He yanked his coat from his shoulders and hung it up. His damp hair curled around his ears, and he tugged at the unruly locks with a weary sigh. When his attention fell on her, Cassie held up her hand.

  “I’m gonna need your help.”

  He sank to his knees in front of her and gently took her hand. “Your fingers are frozen.” His concerned gaze pinned her motionless. “You should have had gloves.”

  Her lips parted, but nothing intelligent came to mind—he was too close. “I was in a hurry,” she finally managed.

  Gideon searched her face. “You shouldn’t have even been out there. Not in this weather.” When he smoothed his finger across her palm, she squirmed slightly. His fingertip stilled beside her wound. “This shard is deep.”

  Cassie looked up at him. “Can you get it out?”

  He rose and crossed the floor, yanking his shirttail free from beneath his belt. The damp wrinkles hung around his waist as he stood over the stove. “I have to.” He slid a small pot to the hottest part of the stove and filled it with steaming water from the kettle.

  Searching through a jar of knives and utensils, he finally retrieved a small paring knife and held it up for Cassie to see. “This should do.” He dropped it into the pot that had already begun to bubble. He stared at the water. Cassie watched him. He snatched a clean towel from the basket and moved the pot to the table, where he sank in the chair across from her. He pulled himself closer until their knees touched.

  “Here,” he said, his voice soft. He pulled her hand into his lap. “Hold your palm open.” Cassie uncurled her fingers. “Yes, like that.” Then he grunted. “I can’t see anything. Hold on.” He jumped from his chair and grabbed candles from around the kitchen. Bringing them to the table, he lit the wicks with sure fingers. Cassie watched his face illuminate. In one quick motion, he nabbed the knife from the water and set it on the towel. He shook his arm as if to cool his fingers.

  Sinking into his chair, he hesitated before taking her hand. His brows furrowed, and he moistened his lips as he grazed his fingertip over the wound. Cassie winced but tried to keep her hand steady.

  “Sorry,” he mumbled, then shook his head.

  He dipped the towel into the hot water. Droplets trickled from the drenched cloth as he wrung it out. With slow movements, he dabbed at her palm with the warm rag. When a smile tugged at her lips, Cassie struggled to keep it hidden.

  “Don’t worry,” she reassured him. It took all her restraint to keep her eyes from savoring the familiar shapes of his face. “You can’t hurt me.”

  He tipped his head to the side. “I’m not so sure about that.” His voice was low and as smooth as velvet.

  Green eyes met hers, and he seemed to be waiting for her final consent. When Cassie gave a slight nod, he reached for the knife. His hand now steady, he squinted against the failing light. The knife blade broke her skin, but Cassie felt no pain.

  Gideon’s eyes lifted. “Did that hurt?”

  A quick shake of her head. “Not really.”

  The second pass with the knife made her grimace. She glanced away when Gideon assured her he was almost done. His breath was faint in her ears, and Cassie closed her eyes. She willed herself to keep still, yet all the while her head spun.

  “There.” He held up the thick shard and leaned back. “Got it.”

  Cassie slunk down in her chair. “Thank you.”

  Gideon did not release her hand. Instead, he held the warm rag against her wound and gently squeezed her wrist. He spoke of needing a bandage, asking her where he might find one.

  “Um …,” she blurted, suddenly unable to put two words together. Not with him so close, holding her hand so.

  As if he sensed it, his eyes danced between them. Quickly, he released her. “Sorry.” He wiped his palms on his pants as if to be rid of her touch.

  Cheeks warming, Cassie glanced away. He didn’t need to apologize. He had every right. If he would but see it.

  Lonnie sat on the parlor sofa, her feet tucked under her, and lifted Jacob to her shoulder for a burp. “That’s my boy.” She rubbed a slow circle on his back. With a belly full of milk, he would soon be fast asleep.

  She heard Elsie’s footsteps before she saw her. The gray-haired woman appeared, a paper-wrapped bundle in her arms.

  “Had this tucked away. Nearly forgot all about it.” With a twinkle in her eye, Elsie set it at Lonnie’s side.

  “What is it?” Her brow furrowed.

  “Open it and find out.” Elsie voice was bright. She held out her arms for the baby. Rising, Lonnie slowly transferred the sleeping boy. He let out a soft sigh. “Now.” Elsie nodded to the parcel.

  A tug on the string and it unraveled. The paper crinkled under her hand as Lonnie turned it over. “Oh, Elsie.” Soft folds of pink eyelet fabric tumbled free. “Is this for me?”

  The woman’s bun bobbed in a nod. “Yes, and you must make yourself something very fine with it.”

  “Are you sure? How did you … when did you?”

  “On Jebediah’s last trip to Mount Airy. Weeks and weeks ago. Remember that fabric you asked for to make a new skirt? Gideon wanted you to have a blouse to go with it.”

  “Did he?” Her voice was pensive, soft with yearning. Her throat suddenly felt tight.

  “I believe it was going to be a gift.” Elsie’s eyes held a sweet sadness.

  “He had asked me to hide it away. I’d nearly forgotten about it. I know he’d want you to have it.”

  “Oh, Elsie.” Lonnie pressed a hand to her mouth when her chin trembled. She closed her eyes to fight the sting of tears. She would not cry. She would not.

  But her heart was tired of listening.

  Her shoulders shook once. Twice. Elsie wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. Lonnie’s cheek pressed against Jacob’s soft back, shattering the last of her resolve. She clutched the package close, wishing with all her might that it was the man himself.

  “Whatever am I going to do? I miss him something fierce.” She sniffed, tucked her thumb inside her sleeve, and ran it over her wet eyes. “I don’t know how to make it stop.”

  Elsie’s soft hand traced comfort along her back. “Not so much about making it stop”—she gave a gentle squeeze—“but about putting one foot in front of the other.” She ducked her head until Lonnie’s gaze met hers. “I see you taking those strides. I see it in you every day.”

  “I’m trying.” Lonnie’s voice was thin. “It doesn’t seem to be enough.

  It doesn’t make it easier.”

  “Nothing but time will make the hurting stop. And”—Elsie kissed the
top of Jacob’s head, lingering—“not so much stop but lessen. The bitter will become smaller, and the sweet will grow.”

  Lonnie felt the delicate fabric, wishing with all that was within her that Gideon was standing there this moment. She wanted to thank him. She wanted to hold him. She wanted to hear from his lips that it had all been a bad dream. Oh, Gideon. Impatient, unruly Gideon. Who always ran headfirst into life without weighing the consequences. The green-eyed man who’d spent months and months changing, growing, learning. All to deserve his family. Was he really lost to her? She had stitched her heart inside his chest pocket and didn’t know how to break that thread.

  “Elsie, thank you. I’m so glad you found this.” She clutched it to her belly, and her vision blurred. “Thank you, thank you.”

  Water sloshed over the edge of the bathtub when Cassie rose. Her teeth chattered as she hurried to dry off. Then she dropped her towel and, using her foot, blotted up the wet mess on the floor. A knock on the door made her heart leap. “Almost done.” She snatched a clean shimmy from the dresser. When she slammed the drawer shut, she nearly caught her finger.

  Gideon’s low voice came muffled through the door. “No hurry. I just wanted to tell you that we’re nearly out of wood, and it looks like another storm’s comin’.” He fell silent before continuing. “Might be worse than the one we had last week. I’m gonna go out into the woods and see what I can gather to get us through.”

  Cassie flung her dress over her head and jammed the buttons into place. “Wait for me,” she called. Stuffing her feet into a pair of clean stockings, she pulled the gray wool up and over her knees. “I want to come.”

  “It’s pretty cold out there,” he said. His voice grew clearer when Cassie opened the door.

  He stepped back. “That was quick.”

  She tossed a sweater over her shoulders. “I hurried.” Her stockinged feet crossed the floor without a sound.

  “It’s gonna be boring work.”

  Cassie slipped a foot inside her boot and tugged the frayed laces into place with unladylike force. “All the more reason to have company.” She reached for her other boot.