“Okay.” The word squeaked out. She set the pot down so hard the lid bounced off, hitting the floor in a splatter of coffee. Snatching a rag from the basket, Toby wiped it up. He replaced the lid and chuckled as he fiddled with the cloth between his hands. He spoke before she could.
“Elsie’s not home, is she?”
Eyes down, cheeks aflame, Lonnie shook her head. She braved a glance up, knowing what a fool she must look.
A half grin lit his face. “I better get back out there then. Before Jebediah drags me out by my shirt collar.”
She felt her neck warm. “Jebediah’d never do that to you.”
His voice was soft. “He’d have every right.”
His words were not helping her pulse.
She took a slow, steady breath, reminding herself that Toby was as good a friend as she’d ever had. Nerves or no nerves, she knew what the future held, and she was happy about it. “Well, don’t go gettin’ into any trouble over me.”
“It’d be worth it.” He stepped toward the door.
“And that coming from a reverend.” She arched an eyebrow but wondered if her cheeks were as rosy as they felt.
“You’re right. I apologize. I shouldna said that.” His dimples deepened, voiding his apology. “S’pose I better do something to rectify the situation.” His gaze touched hers before he stepped out. A cold burst of air swayed Lonnie’s skirt, and the door closed behind him.
Six
Gideon heard the town of Stuart before he saw it. He crested a low, bare hill—the trees long gone—and spotted the buildings in the distance. He smelled smoke. Heard the clatter of horses and wagons and, somewhere far off, the ring of a hammer on an anvil. Yet the only sight to draw his attention was the large courthouse. The brick building stood out in its prominence, and for the first moment in days, doubt flitted through him.
Despising the feeling—the thought of losing Lonnie all over again—Gideon strode down the hillside all but talking aloud to convince himself not to be afraid. He crossed onto Main Street and headed straight for the courthouse that stood like a beacon in the center of town. He dodged a wagon and then a group of women, taking care to step over a dog sleeping across the wooden sidewalk.
Striding up the stone steps of the courthouse, he suddenly felt very small. Snow gathered along the bases of the massive columns, and Gideon shivered as he reached the broad porch. The tall doors were closed. A tug on one large handle and it opened more smoothly than he expected. He stepped into the warm building.
Greeted by the musky scent of perfume, he immediately spotted the source sitting behind a desk.
“Excuse me, ma’am.” Gideon pulled his hat off as he approached the woman.
The receptionist looked up, a pair of spectacles pressed against her round face. The wiry bun mounded on her head was streaked in gray.
“I have a question, and I’m not sure where to begin.”
Her smile was genuine. “What may I help you with?”
“I … uh … I sent an annulment request to the court through the circuit rider, and I’m curious as to its status.”
He might as well have spoken in German for the look she gave him. “Annulment.”
He nodded soberly.
“What is your name?” She slid a small pad of paper toward herself and picked up a stubby pencil. He spoke and she eyed him from head to toe. With an arch of her eyebrow, she scratched Gideon O’Riley in tiny script. “I will be right back. You may have a seat while you wait if you’d like.” A gaudy ring on her finger caught the light when she waved her hand toward some benches.
Gideon turned his hat in his hand. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Her boot heels echoed down the corridor, and he sat on a hard bench. A few people milled about, murmuring in hushed tones. Turning his hat nervously, Gideon looked out the window and tried to swallow, but his heart felt like it was in his throat. He all but jumped up from the bench when the woman returned. Her face was stony. Gideon drew in a heavy breath.
“Mr. O’Riley, I’m afraid that the judge has not gotten to your case yet.” She pressed her hand to a broad belt that cinched the waist of her lacy blouse. “It could be a while yet. A few days … perhaps longer. Most likely longer.”
“Longer?”
“Yes sir. These matters take time.” She strode back to her desk with an invitation for him to follow.
“Is there a way I could speak to him? I need to get home, ma’am.”
“I’m afraid not today. It’s been a hectic day, and the judge has a hearing in several minutes.” She glanced up at a massive clock on the wall above her. “And he’s leaving today at five on the dot, as usual. Judge Monroe does not like his supper delayed. Perhaps you could return in a few days’ time.”
He didn’t have a few days. But he was growing more certain that he couldn’t return to Lonnie without proof that he was no longer married to Cassie. Gideon ducked his head. “Thank you.”
As he stepped back, she eyed him. “You’re not from around here?”
“No ma’am. I’m from Fancy Gap. I just came here to settle this.”
“Ah.” She drew in a slow breath and let it out as if she had all the time in the world. “Follow the main road downtown, and on your right, you’ll see a yellow house. It’s owned by Mr. and Mrs. Smith and is the ordinary in town. Unless you’d prefer one of the inns, though they are pricier.”
A tug on his wrinkled shirt, and Gideon wondered what sort of hobo he must look like. “Thank you.” After picking up his pack, he stepped out of the courthouse, where a faint snow fell softly. Fantastic. Just what he needed. There was no sun to gauge the time, but judging by the growl in his stomach, it had to be around noon. Gideon leaned against one of the massive pillars, pulled on his gloves, and made himself comfortable.
Folks strolled about in the street below, several climbing the steep steps into the courthouse, only to return an hour or so later. Gideon was half-frozen and nearly asleep when a man exited the brick building, his pristine black coat and glossy hat hinting that he was no mere citizen on courthouse business.
Gideon straightened so fast he nearly slipped and fell. Steadying his nerves, he strode toward him. “Sir.”
The man looked at him as he pulled on a pair of shiny black gloves. Gideon nodded cordially, uncertain of how to begin, but all the while knowing this was his chance.
“Judge Monroe?”
The man glanced at him briefly. His nod was scarcely discernible.
“May I speak with you a moment, sir?”
The older man slid on a tall hat, taking care with his hair. “I’ve worked for nine hours straight today.” His mustache twitched. “All I care about in this moment is the roast I know is sitting on my dining room table, and unless your name is Sally Monroe, I have no interest in what you have to say.” Pulling a watch from his waistcoat, he started down the steps.
Gideon followed. “Sir, please. I just have a question.” He hitched his pack higher up on his shoulder, and the mandolin hummed when he bumped it.
“And I’m afraid it will have to wait.” The judge’s silver eyebrows darkened his brow as he sized Gideon up in one blink. Snow flecked in brilliant specks on the man’s black coat. “I do not conduct business outside of the court.”
The judge walked on and wove through the evening crowd. A pair of men tipped their work hats to him as a dozen polished boots made prints in the freshly fallen snow. Gideon watched the judge go. He let out a heavy sigh, chagrined by the weariness that was beginning to wash over him. This was no time to come unhinged.
But he was cold. And mighty hungry.
Looking around, Gideon took note of the buildings up and down the main artery of town. He headed toward what he guessed was downtown, as the receptionist had advised. Glancing in the windows of the first inn, Gideon spotted a restaurant where happy patrons dined. He ran his hand over his mouth, forcing himself to say a thankful prayer for the bread in his pack. He walked on, slowly, having nowhere else to be.
Light pooled from business windows, and Gideon walked until the storefronts thinned to larger fenced yards. The sun must have set beyond the clouds, for the land was growing darker by the minute. He spotted the ordinary in the distance, lit by two cheery windows. The yellow building invited. Beckoned. But with nothing in his pockets, Gideon stopped before he got there and dropped his pack against the side of a building. The two-story clapboard would block the wind, and the overhang would keep the snow at bay. Though he would have lit a fire had he been in the woods, he was just going to have to live without one here.
With his bedroll folded in half, Gideon sat on the dry surface and sighed. He stared into the windows of the saloon, aglow with warmth and laughter. He stuffed his gloved hands against his sides and crossed one ankle over the other. A few hours, and it would be morning. A few hours, and he could be back at the courthouse. Gideon held his breath, if nothing else but to keep the cold out of his lungs. Finally, he drew in a shaky chest full of air, the iciness chilling him through. Closing his eyes, he settled his back against the side of the building as comfortably as he could.
He imagined Lonnie and Jacob preparing for bed. The thought of Lonnie reading their son a book by candlelight chased away his gloom, and he clung to the image as he fell asleep.
“I always feared you’d die young.”
Shivering, Gideon opened one eye. A man stood over him, the voice familiar, but the blur of sleep fogged his mind. The morning sun over the broad shoulders of the man blinded him.
“I’m not dead,” Gideon said, shifting his stiff muscles. He blinked, but the light was too bright.
“Nearly.” The man had a kindness in his voice. A familiar drawl. Memories of working the apple farm flooded the front of Gideon’s mind.
“Tal?”
“What on earth are you doing sleeping on the sidewalk? And in Stuart, of all places? Why didn’t you stay at the inn? Or the ordinary?” Tal adjusted his weather-worn hat.
“Let’s just say my funds are limited.” Gideon groaned as he struggled to stand. “It’s a long story.”
Tal crouched and extended his hand. “You look plumb frozen, son.”
Stumbling to his feet, Gideon forced his numb legs steady. But they were shaking something fierce. “I think I am.” Gideon squinted at his friend, soaking in the joyous sight of a familiar face. Never had he expected to see his former boss standing before him. “What are you doing here?”
“Came on some business.” Bending, Tal grabbed Gideon’s pack and brushed at the icy layer of frost. “We’ll talk over some breakfast, all right? Let’s get you inside and some hot coffee into ya.” Tal motioned uptown, and even as Gideon’s stiff muscles complained, he followed Tal down the wooden sidewalk.
They strode in silence as if Tal was giving him a chance to wake up proper. Gideon’s blood warmed as he moved. Tal didn’t speak until they’d settled at a table in the inn restaurant and placed an order.
“So what brings you here?” Tal tossed his coat over the back of his chair, and in two breaths, a woman brought cups of steaming coffee.
Gideon wrapped his hands around the hot mug, pulling away only long enough to splash in a bit of cream and stir in sugar. A sip and he tightened his hands around the cup, feeling the warmth all the way to his toes. “I need to speak with the judge … if I can.” The glass of the window was cool against his elbow.
When Tal’s eyes widened, Gideon was glad the woman in the black apron brought two plates of biscuits and gravy, delaying the conversation. She set the plates down with a clatter and a smile.
“Thank you.” Gideon turned his fork in his hand. He glanced at the clock, wondering what time Judge Monroe arrived at the courthouse each morning. “I’ll tell you everything. But”—he glanced out the window, certain he must seem as distracted as he felt—“I’m not exactly sure what’s going to happen just yet.” Gideon turned back to his friend. “Listen, where ya headed next?”
“The merchant up on Fourth. It’ll take me a few hours to stock up on the supplies I need. And then I’ve got to stop in at the saddler before I head back to the farm this evening.”
Gideon took a bite of biscuit and then another. Conversation falling by the wayside from sheer hunger. Glancing out the window, he spotted a stout man in a dark coat stride past. His top hat glinted in the morning light. Gideon grabbed his coat. He downed a heavy gulp of coffee, all but scalding his tongue. Jumping to his feet, he gripped Tal’s shoulder. “I will meet you at the merchant’s as soon as I’m done.”
“Sure thing, son.” Tal glanced out the window toward the courthouse. He waved Gideon forward. “Don’t worry none about me. You git!”
“See you in a little bit.” Gideon squeezed Tal’s shoulder, then darted out into the cold. Jacket in one hand, he barreled down the street, not caring about who stopped and stared. The wooden sidewalk thundered beneath his boots as he ran. Judge Monroe started up the steps of the courthouse as Gideon crossed the street.
“Sir.” Gideon moved in his path, walking backwards. Panting. “Please, sir. I need to talk with you.”
“Yes. You and half the people in this county.”
“Please, sir.” He gulped a breath of air. “Ten minutes.”
The older man glanced up, and something registered in his eyes. “Not you again.”
Still walking backwards, Gideon had to step out of the way of a pair of ladies in autumn-hued dresses.
Nearly to the massive doors, the judge adjusted the cuff of his shirt. He glanced at Gideon, his eyebrows so thick they shadowed his dark eyes. “Don’t you have something better to do?”
“No.” He didn’t. “And I’ll be back tomorrow if need be.”
When the judge stopped walking, Gideon halted.
“And then I’ll be back the next day. Until you talk to me. Ten minutes. It’s all I’m asking for.”
Shaking his head, Judge Monroe motioned toward the building. “I’ll give you five. But this better be the end of it.”
“Thank you, sir.” Gideon followed him into the courthouse and past the wide-eyed receptionist he met the day before. Her perfume had changed, as had her hairstyle. Gideon nodded cordially, noting a twitch of amusement around her mouth. Uncertain as to how unusual this all was, he simply followed the judge down a corridor to a door with an etched-glass window.
Gideon stepped aside as the other man slid a key in the lock.
“This way.”
The judge strode into his office and gruffly stuffed back the curtains on the windows. Gideon stood in the doorway.
“Sit.” After working his way around the massive desk, the judge set a leather case beside his chair and sat with a sigh.
Gideon sank into the wooden chair across from him.
“What in tarnation can I do to get you out of my office so I can go on with my day?”
Gideon scratched his head. “I need to know if I’m married or not.”
The man leaned back in his chair. “You’re crazier than I thought.”
“No, you see …” Gideon shifted his feet, and before he could give in to the heat rising up his neck, he explained his predicament. His past.
Judge Monroe stared at him blankly as he spoke. Slowly, he tipped his chin back. “I remember you.” His face shadowed even as his thick hand rested lightly on the messy stack of papers beside him. “You caused a great deal of trouble for me. A great deal of trouble. Some months ago.”
How he believed it. “Yes sir.” Gideon scooted forward on the small chair. “I’m very sorry—”
The gray-haired man held up a hand before fiddling with one side of his mustache.
Gideon eyed the stack of papers on the desk. The judge followed his gaze to the mountain of cases beside him. Predicaments that were no doubt ahead of Gideon and Cassie’s.
“When is your hearing date?”
“I don’t have one.”
“And the young lady? Your w
ife?”
“She’s not here.”
His eyebrows lifted. “You’re not giving me much to work with. I’m a judge for the state of Virginia, Mr. O’Riley. Not a miracle worker.”
“Please.” Gideon said, chiding the tremor in his voice. “I need my son.” He needed Lonnie.
Twisting his mustache between two fingers, the older man studied him.
Gideon didn’t blink.
“Do you have any idea how unconventional this is?”
He hadn’t anticipated any problems, but now he knew what a fool he’d been to think this would be simple. “I’m sorry, sir.” And he was. More than he could say.
After a knock on the door, the receptionist strode in with nary a sound. She set a steaming cup on the desk and then left just as quietly. Gideon glanced around at the shelves of law books. Some of the spines broader than his palm. The books that held his fate.
“Now you need to understand … this will require some time if you want me to give this any kind of attention. Rushing the matter will not help your case, Mr. O’Riley. As the state of Virginia sees things, you’re still a married man.”
Gideon hung his head.
“The wife who no longer wants to be married to you isn’t here to state her case. Why is that?”
“She’s too weak to travel. At least this far. Perhaps in time …”
Steepling his fingers, the man shifted in his chair. He sat a moment, staring at a spot on his desk. Gideon could all but see the wheels spinning in his mind.
Finally, the judge spoke. “There’s most likely something to be done here, but I’ll need a little time to resolve this satisfactorily for all parties involved.” He waved a hand to the stack of papers. “But I’ll need several weeks. A month. Possibly more.”
Gideon fought to keep his distress from showing. Instead, he grabbed onto the only certain thing he could. “A month. I’ll be back in a month.” He was already on his feet before the judge could change his mind.
A curt nod. “Come back in thirty days, Mr. O’Riley. We’ll get you back to your wife and son.”
My Hope Is Found Page 5