Though My Heart Is Torn

by Joanne Bischof

  He looked up at Lonnie but continued rolling his blocks around in front of him. The freshly carved wood only made Toby come to mind—dark hair, dimples. Lonnie picked up a block and turned it in her hand. Jacob peered up at her with wide green eyes. Toby’s image vanished. Peering into her son’s face, she saw nothing but Gideon, the man she had once thought forever hers. Jacob reached for his block, and Lonnie let it fall into his lap. Spinning away, she pressed her palms to her burning cheeks. Why Gideon? Why now? He was Cassie’s. She was a fool to think otherwise.

  A noise captured her attention, and Lonnie rushed to the window, pushed back the curtains, and tried not to be seen as she peered into the yard. Gael trotted into view. Lonnie stepped back slightly but saw Toby lift his face to her window. He was here. He had come to call … on her.

  She smoothed her eyelet blouse and straightened the lace collar. Her hands flew to her hair, and as soon as she had tucked a silken strand in place, Lonnie forced her hands to her sides. She watched Toby dismount and lead Gael to the barn. She nibbled the tip of her thumb until he emerged a minute later, smoothing his brown jacket. He seemed to hesitate ever so slightly before approaching the back door. He disappeared beneath the porch eaves. Then Lonnie heard a knock.

  “Well, Jacob,” she murmured against the window. Lifting her hand, she touched the cold glass. “This is it.”

  The back door opened. The back door closed. Lonnie lifted Jacob from the bed and rested him on her hip. “This is it,” she whispered.

  She left the bedroom and walked to the stairs. As she slid her fingers down the cold banister, the freshly oiled wood felt too smooth and tranquil beneath her balmy hand.

  Happy voices rang from the kitchen, but their cheer did not quicken her pace. Lonnie turned the corner, and her freshly scrubbed boots found the large rug at the base of the stairs. Lord, grant me peace. With a heavy sigh, she pulled Jacob close and kissed his soft cheek. “Be my comfort.” Even as her heart pounded and her knees trembled, she started into the kitchen. Direct my steps.

  Jacob was beautiful when he slept. Motionless, with only the rise and fall of his tiny chest, he was impossible not to watch. Enchanted by the boy’s hair that curled around his cherub face, Gideon found himself unable to turn away. His son’s mother slept at his side, her fingers curled instinctively against his cheek as if she couldn’t help touching him, even in her sleep. Her pale ankles were crossed. Bare beneath her nightgown. Gideon considered waking her. But she was so peaceful—they both were.

  Then someone called his name. Why did they have to bother him now? He was finally with his family. Finally close enough to scoop his son up in his arms. He’d just gotten here, and he wasn’t ready to give this up. Not yet. Whoever it was would just have to wait.

  “Gideon.”

  His name was called again. Suddenly, he couldn’t see his family anymore. There was nothing but darkness. Then the darkness started to tremble, and Gideon found himself opening his eyes. He blinked at the room around him, so different from what his dreams held.

  “Gideon.”

  He sat up with a start. Looking around, he took a moment to absorb his surroundings. The room was nearly dark except for the few candles flickering about the room.

  “You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn’t want to wake you.”

  “I can’t believe I fell asleep. It feels like I just sat down.” Moving closer to the bed, he straightened the quilt around Cassie’s waist.

  “You did just sit down. That’s what was so funny.” Her eyes wouldn’t meet his.

  “Are you—”

  “I’m fine.”

  He pressed a hand to her forehead, smoothing unruly strands away from her face. The flush was gone from her skin, the rash nearly faded. “You look like you’re feeling better.” He sank onto the bed beside her.

  “I feel a little stronger this morning.”

  “You don’t know how good it sounds to hear you say that. Can I get you something?” Eying the empty cup on the nightstand, he offered to get her more tea.

  “No. Thank you.”

  “You didn’t finish your dinner. I hope the hot cakes weren’t—”

  “They were wonderful. I just wasn’t hungry quite yet.”

  “Like you weren’t hungry for the stew from yesterday or the eggs from the day before?”

  With a slight smile, Cassie reached for her plate and speared the last few bites onto her fork, finally stuffing the unladylike stack into her mouth. She made a funny face. “I think you used a little too much leavening.”

  Gideon chuckled. “Sorry about that.” He shook his head. “I thought something was wrong. You’re not the greatest actress; do you know that?”

  She shrugged playfully, still chewing, but her eyes were sad.

  “Seeing as you’ve been indoors so much the last week, I thought a little fresh air was in order.” Without waiting to see her response, Gideon hoisted her off the bed, quilt and all. She weighed hardly anything.

  “What are you doing?” The thrill in her voice was refreshing. “I can walk!”

  Smiling, Gideon blew out the candle on the nightstand, then stepped carefully to the dresser where he blew out another. The room fell dark. It took a moment for his eyes to find the doorway, and he stepped toward it.

  Then he heard her gasp. Felt the intake of breath through the quilt. It was the only response he needed. Suppressing a smile, Gideon carried her through the dark house, toward the glow of the fire he’d built in the yard, just off the porch. The flames licked the cold night air, dancing for their audience of two. The sun had all but set, its final efforts scattered along the horizon like tiny candles, refusing to be snuffed out. The dips and rises of the snow were painted in dark valleys of blue, shimmering mountains of orange.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

  “Thought you could use a change of scenery.”

  Cassie lowered her head to his shoulder and kissed it. She ran a hand over her eyes as if she were fighting something back.

  He kept his voice light. “Your throne,” he teased, swiveling toward the chair he’d set out for her.

  He felt Cassie shake her head against his shoulder. “I like this,” she whispered.

  Gideon hesitated, then allowed his body to relax. Pressing his back against the porch post, he sank to the top step of the stairs and leaned back. “How’s this?” he whispered into her hair.

  “Perfect.”

  The fire crackled and popped, then seemed to grow brighter. Gideon glanced down at Cassie’s face and saw the soft glow dance across her features. As if she noticed he was watching, her lashes flicked upward. Troubled blue eyes met his.

  “Let me know if you get too cold, now.” He shifted her against his chest. “I’ll take you right back in. We need to be careful with you still.” He fell silent when he saw her gaze had drifted into the dark.

  Her eyebrows pulled together.

  “So you can get your strength back.”

  “I don’t know if I care.” The words came out soft—distant.

  Gideon felt his eyes narrow. “Don’t say that.”

  She nestled her head against him without responding. They sat that way for several minutes.

  “Gideon.”

  “Hmm?”

  “What were you dreaming about?”

  “When?”

  “Inside. Just now, when I woke you.”

  “I don’t remember.”

  Cassie pulled back slightly in his embrace. She turned her face to his. “Yes you do.”

  Gideon stared at the fire for a long time before he spoke, and when he finally did, he knew it would be impossible to keep the ache he felt out of his voice. “What difference does it make?”

  “It makes a world of difference.”

  Glancing down, he studied her, took in the taut lines etched into place by her stubborn curiosity. “Why do you ask?”

  She stared into the darkness. When she spoke, each word came out slow, controlled. “Because you sai
d, ‘I love you.’ ”

  Gideon felt his Adam’s apple rise and fall. “I did?”

  “Twice.”

  He didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing.

  After a long silence, Cassie pressed her cheek to his shoulder.

  “I don’t want to wear you out.” He kissed the top of her head—a habit, nothing more. But if he kept doing it long enough, and the days turned into months, the months turned into years. Gideon ran his hand over his eyes, willing himself not to think of it.

  “You are so sweet.”

  He grunted. “And you’re generous.”

  “I’m horrible.”

  “What?”

  Her voice plunged toward silence. “I’m ashamed.”

  “Ashamed? Cassie, what are you talking about?” He pushed her away, but only so he could see her face. “What’s wrong?”

  “Gideon, I—” She scooted to sit beside him, nestling in the shadows.

  Chilled, Gideon folded his arms across his chest.

  Her face was pure agony. “I should never have done this.” She shook her head slowly. “Yesterday in church, the reverend’s message felt like it was just for me.”

  “What was it?”

  “He spoke of honesty. Letting your yes be your yes and your no be your no.” She held up Lonnie’s letter. He hadn’t realized she’d been holding it. “This was my yes. This was me telling you that I wanted you out of my life and that I would follow through. But I didn’t.”

  He watched her swallow.

  “You thought you were free to marry another, and I did nothing to stop you. I didn’t hold to my promise to see that everything was finalized between us. I didn’t come to you. I didn’t do anything. And you married Lonnie.”

  “Cassie—”

  “You had Jacob.”

  The name silenced him.

  “A child needs a father. I had no right …” The way she choked out the words, he knew she was going to cry.

  “What are you saying?” His body warmed as if the sun were rising within him, pooling its light through his every limb. His hand captured hers, and when she groaned, face agonized, he let her tug it free.

  “I should have done this long ago. I don’t know what I was afraid of.” Folding the sleeve of her nightgown back, she pulled out another piece of paper. “But I’m not afraid anymore.”

  She unfolded it slowly, and when firelight danced along the formal writing, Gideon felt his breath catch. “Cassie.”

  “We had both signed it. I should have sent this long ago.” She turned her head; her eyes found his. “Gideon, I should have kept my promise. You trusted me. I want that to be worth something. I want my word to be worth something.”

  She began to tremble.

  “I need to get you inside.”

  “Go to them.” A lock of hair slipped off her forehead when she tipped her chin up, and tears filled her eyes. “Please. And when you have your son in your arms, tell him that you love him.” She wiped at her wet cheeks. “Because he deserves all that and more.”

  Breath bated, he searched her eyes. She was shaking. Or was it him? He pulled back, needing his head to clear. A deep draw of air and life seemed to fill him.

  “Why did you have to change?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Why couldn’t you have just hated me until we were old and gray?”

  Her words broke his heart. “I never hated you.”

  “But you’re different now.” She glanced at the fire he had built her. “If you hadn’t changed, this wouldn’t be so hard.”

  He turned to face her, gripping her arms so tight, he forced the muscles of his arms to relax. “Tell me.” The words shook, breath shallow. “Cassie, what are you saying?”

  She motioned to the westward skyline. “Lonnie. Why her? Why not me?”

  His eyes searched her face. “I don’t know.” It was the only answer he had.

  “That’s my point. This”—she touched his chest and then hers—“this is what assures me.” She stared into the distance as if she could see the Bennetts’ house from where they sat. “I want more. I want to steal someone’s heart the way she’s stolen yours. Deeply, purely.” A smile lifted her mouth. “You know I can do it.”

  He chuckled. How he knew it.

  “More than that, I want to be good. I want to be trustworthy. I want this chance to do something right.”

  Sensing there was more, he touched her hand when she fell silent.

  “Lonnie, she’s—”

  “She’s what?” The words fell from his lips so urgently that her eyes widened.

  “She’s your perfect fit.” Her eyes flooded with sorrow. “There’s nothing to do about that.” She squeezed his hand, her frailness alarming, stealing a piece of his heart. “Go home to her. You must.” With a tenderness that would break his heart whenever he thought of her, she touched his cheek. “Go home to them.”

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  This was by far the most challenging story I’ve written. I’ve prayed over these words time and time again that they would be nothing less but honoring to God and that any piece that fell short would be trimmed away. At times it’s been overwhelming to tell the story of a scoundrel, the sins of his past and the ways he and those around him were affected by it. I can’t tell you how many times I saw this manuscript as crazy, and to hear from my editor that it was “brave” filled me with the courage to keep going—and as a dear friend shared with me, “Brave is not easy, but brave and courageous is the atmosphere where the Lord says He is in your midst and with you wherever you go” (see Joshua 1:9).

  Though My Heart Is Torn is meant to shed light on the fact that though sin will bring us far from God, there is always a way back, and that though choices in life aren’t always easy, we must look to grace: “an unearned and unmerited favor; the absolutely free expression of the loving kindness of God to men finding its only motive in the bounty and benevolence of the Giver.”* Sometimes life lands around our feet in broken pieces, and all we can do is allow the Lord’s strength to fill us as we pick up those portions, fitting them back together with His promises and mercy, our repentance and devotion. God will restore the broken. He gives grace to the humble and freedom to the captive.

  As a storyteller, I constantly desired to ensure the historical quality of this book and to uphold the beauty and integrity of the Blue Ridge Mountains at the turn of the last century. One of my greatest desires is to write and research as accurately as possible. For any mistakes that appear, my absolute, sincerest apologies.

  Research gems always seem to live in the most surprising places. Sometimes it’s the tattered copy of the Sears, Roebuck and Co. catalog from 1900 that I found in the country store of the apple orchard in Oak Glen, or the photograph of a winter path in the Blue Ridge Country Magazine, or the gem of an e-mail from the Patrick County Genealogy Society, sharing the story of their kinfolk’s annulment and the circuit riders. I am indebted to the resources I’ve used over the years.

  I have been so blessed by the amazing readers who gave this new author a chance. Your support, enthusiasm, and encouragement have meant the world to me. Your feedback gives me a peek into your hearts and how these stories touch you. I am forever grateful to you all for walking this path with me.

  If you would like to stay in touch, you can sign up at www.joannebischof.com to receive my free e-newsletter, The Heartfelt Post, sent out each spring and autumn. While you’re there, you’ll see where I’m out and about on the web and can sneak a peek at my latest shenanigans—whether it’s moonshine pecan pie or a folk music spotlight, via my blog. It’s always a blessing to meet new readers. I would love to hear from you! If you like paper and stamps as much as I do, you can write to me at WaterBrook Multnomah, 12265 Oracle Boulevard, Suite 200, Colorado Springs, CO 80921.

  Thank you for being a part of Lonnie and Gideon’s love story with Be Still My Soul and Though My Heart Is Torn. I hope you will join us for the final stage of their j
ourney in My Hope Is Found.

  * This definition of grace came from The Complete Word Study Dictionary: New Testament (Word Study Series), edited by Spiros Zodhiates.

  READERS GUIDE

  1. What does the title, Though My Heart Is Torn, signify to you? Who do you think it applies to—Lonnie, Gideon, or Cassie? Perhaps all three?

  2. The first interactions between Lonnie and Gideon are much different in Though My Heart Is Torn than they were in Be Still My Soul. What differences do you see in Lonnie? What do you see in Gideon as a husband? a father?

  3. The situation surrounding Gideon and the dual marriage is a tricky one. How has Gideon’s refusal to follow God’s ways affected his life? How did Cassie’s behavior contribute to their situation?

  4. How do you feel the reverends handled their role as overseers of the dilemma that ensnared Lonnie, Gideon, and Cassie? Did they make wise choices, or did they complicate the quandary? Considering the culture and conventions of 1901, could they have handled the situation differently?

  5. Gideon and Eli Allan were childhood friends. Yet when Eli discovers the secrets of Gideon and Cassie’s relationship, a war erupts between the two men. Though Gideon is striving to be a better man, he is also a work in progress who has much to learn. In what ways did Gideon fight against his old sin nature when interacting with Eli? In what ways did Gideon give in to anger and impatience?

  6. When Cassie first regretted her marriage to Gideon and wanted him out of her life, she panicked and chose to lie about the status of their marriage. How did her choices affect others? Can you think of a time when the choices, whether great or small, of another person changed your life?

  7. Maggie sends Addie to live with the Bennetts. What do you feel was motivating her? What do you think that decision cost Maggie? What difference could this make in Addie’s life?

  8. As an act of grace, Cassie lets Gideon go. In wanting to break free of her lies, she sees an opportunity to finally let her yes be yes and her no be no. (Matthew 5:37 says, “But let your ‘Yes’ be ‘Yes,’ and your ‘No,’ ‘No.’ For whatever is more than these is from the evil one.”) This is a heartrending choice for her, but it’s one that brings her freedom. What do you feel this says about her character? How has she grown or changed? Can you think of a time when you relied on grace to resolve an issue?