She opened her eyes with a start.
Toby crouched in front of her. His face was filled with worry. He wrapped a hand around hers. It was then she realized how much she was actually trembling.
“What’s happened?” he asked.
She clenched her jaw, refusing to let one more tear fall. Not in front of Toby. Quickly, she wiped her cheeks.
“I … It’s just …” Oh, how could she tell him? A glance into his kind eyes, and she knew he deserved to know. He deserved to know all that ran through her and in her. He was her dearest of friends. And someday he would be more.
She took his broad hand in both of hers and held it close.
His eyes widened in surprise.
“This.” She squeezed his warm hand tighter. “This life”—she freed one hand to beat her fingertips against where her heart seemed scarred beyond repair—“is bittersweet. Everything is tainted. I don’t know if I’ll ever be the same again. The hurt won’t go away.”
His face softened further. “Oh, Lonnie.” He cupped her cheek. “I’m so sorry.”
She tipped her chin up and drew in a deep breath, hoping it would wash away the tremor in her voice. But it was no use. “I need to stop loving him.”
His expression tender, he covered both of her hands with his other.
“I’ve known ever since he left. But it hasn’t made it any easier.” Bending forward, she pressed her cheek to Toby’s knuckles. “I’m sorry to have to say this to you. But it’s not fair to you for me not to be honest.”
“I’m glad you told me.”
“God will make me stronger. I know He will ease this pain. It just takes time, doesn’t it? I don’t want to ask you to walk with me through this—”
“May I? May I be by your side through this?”
Sweet Toby.
“As your friend?”
Though another tear slid down her cheek, she smiled.
Then that’s what he would be. Her friend.
His thoughts flew to Jebediah and their conversation in the barn. The moment he’d asked permission for Lonnie’s hand. But now, with her cold fingers inside his, and the honest confession she just poured out so graciously, Toby couldn’t imagine speaking the words. Confessing his desires. Not anytime soon.
Though he’d intended to ask her on the ride home.
To ask her to be his bride.
He’d rehearsed how he would say it over and over. Scarcely sleeping a wink last night. Toby fought the urge to run a hand through his hair. Fighting his own desires. Lonnie needed people in her life who loved her. Who cared about her. Who would walk with her through the pain. Was he not willing to put his dreams on the shelf if it meant doing just that?
He yearned for the future he’d imagined. Perhaps someday. That would be his constant prayer. But until that day, he wanted to be there for Lonnie. Wanted to help ease her pain. Even if in some small way.
Something twisted within at the thought of her never being his. But he knew how selfish that was. He didn’t want Lonnie if it meant a life of sorrow for her. He wanted only to bring her joy. How he prayed that day would come.
Nine
Lonnie popped the lid on a jar of stewed pumpkin specked with cinnamon and nutmeg, and spooned the aromatic gooiness into her bowl atop a pair of eggs and a splash of cream. At her side, Elsie rolled out a round of piecrust. Lonnie had always known this recipe by heart, but with her mind a whir, she paused and shoved back her sleeves, then realized she’d counted the eggs wrong. Lonnie muttered to herself.
She felt Elsie watching her.
Lonnie focused on what she was doing, careful not to slosh her apron as she stirred.
“You’ve been mighty quiet since your outing with Toby the other day. Is everything all right?”
Nodding slowly, Lonnie stirred the pie filling with all the care she would have given to threading a needle. She cracked a third egg and mixed it in gently.
“Lonnie.”
At Elsie’s tender tone, Lonnie stilled. She glanced up, and Elsie’s copper eyes met hers.
But the words would not come.
A gentle squeeze on her arm, and Elsie pulled Lonnie into a side hug. “Sweet girl, something is the matter. Lonnie, what’s happened? Did Toby … Did he finally …”
“No.” She let go of the bowl. “Toby didn’t ask me to marry him.” Feigning interest in a smear of flour on her apron, she brushed at it. “If that’s what you mean.”
Elsie nodded and released her.
“It’s …” Lonnie reached for the salt and sprinkled in a pinch. It sat where it fell when she made no move to stir. “It’s Gideon.”
“Gideon?”
Pressing her hands to the chopping-block surface, Lonnie circled her thumb over the silken wood. She bounced her heel. Suddenly hot, she wanted to open a window. “He’s … They’re …” She dropped her head, closed her eyes for a breath, and then forced herself to look at Elsie. “It sounds like they’re going to have a baby.”
Elsie’s rolling pin hit the board with a clatter. “Oh, Lonnie. No.” Her eyes rounded, mouth working as if to speak. Lonnie had to look away from the pity in her face. She crouched, reaching for the sack of flour where it was wedged onto a shelf.
She didn’t want pity. She wanted Gideon. Fighting the desire, she tugged on the sack again.
“I’m so sorry.”
“It happens.” Lonnie stood, the flour forgotten.
“What—”
“It’s life and it happens and Gideon is Gideon and he’s gone.” She yanked the bowl toward herself. “He’s gone, and he’s not coming back. I don’t know what on earth I was holding on to. He’s married to Cassie, and I—” Words failed her. Chin trembling, she reached for another egg, then realized she’d already added one. “And I—”
Elsie’s arms were around her in a heartbeat. “Oh, my sweet girl.” She released one hand to smooth the hair from Lonnie’s face, squeezing her so tight with the other that Lonnie closed her eyes to keep from crying. Elsie’s words were soft. “God is with you for each step of this. And we are too. And we’re not going to let you go.” She gripped Lonnie’s shoulders, her copper eyes searching. “This ain’t gonna beat you. It’s not.”
“There’s days that I just don’t know how to keep my head up.”
“Oh, sweetie. I know. This makes me so sad. I can only imagine what you’re feeling.” She kissed Lonnie’s forehead. “But you’ve been keepin’ your head up, and you’ll keep doing it. I know in this moment it seems so hard. But for Jacob. For yourself. You keep your chin up. There is a whole life ahead of you worth livin’.” Elsie’s grip tightened. “And good things will be in it. Love and life and laughter. It may not feel that way right now. But good things lie in the days ahead. You just keep fightin’ for it.”
Furiously, Lonnie nodded. “I know,” she gasped. “I know. I’m just so … so tired. So very tired, Elsie.”
Pulling her tight again, Elsie rocked from side to side, the pie forgotten.
Light from the setting sun pierced through the window, hitting Lonnie’s hair in a puddle of warmth. She wanted to stand that way forever—in the precious pocket of Elsie’s arms, where the trials of life stood at bay and where peace floated along the hymn Elsie hummed ever so softly.
But at the sound of laughter coming from the yard, Lonnie opened her eyes and forced herself to straighten. Using the edge of her apron, she wiped at her cheeks.
“It sounds like Jebediah is back with the children.” She gave Elsie’s hand a firm squeeze, knowing there was more to say. But at the sound of Jebediah calling for them, she pushed her way past the door and onto the porch. In the little sled, Addie held Jacob snug in her lap. A mound of blankets covered the smiling pair. Jebediah’s chest was heaving, and his cheeks were rosy.
“How was your walk?” Lonnie asked.
“It was wonderful!” Addie declared.
Jacob bounced his shoulders as if to ask for more. The older man laughed. “I think I’ve discovered his favorite thing to
do.” He gripped the rope with his gloved hands. “Why don’t you two join me for the evening chores? Mind if I keep them out a bit longer, Lonnie?”
“Not at all,” she said, shielding her eyes from the setting sun.
With a grunt, Jebediah tugged the little sled toward the barn, his steps slow, but his cheery words to the children carried along the breeze.
Lonnie turned to see Elsie standing in the doorway. Folding her arms, Lonnie shivered in the cold. The setting sun glinted orange on the windows, and an icy breeze stirred her apron and twirled her petticoats.
“Elsie, I want to get through this.” She climbed the steps and leaned against the banister, staring out into the yard where Gideon used to work. “I’m going to get through this. I just wish it were easier. I want to stop loving him, and I know I must.” But part of her hated having to kill off the love she had for him. A part of her was certain that just wasn’t going to be possible.
Elsie moved in beside her and rested her plump arms on the railing. “He was worth loving.” She squeezed Lonnie’s hand. “That’s what makes it so hard. He was worth loving. And he loved you in return. So very much.”
“I know,” Lonnie said, her voice unsteady. “I know he did.” She could still feel his arms around her. Hear his laughter, see the impish light in his eyes that was so Gideon. Lifting her chest, Lonnie let the sorrow out, freeing it as if the setting sun could cover it, tuck it away for good. For tomorrow was a new day. Gideon was gone, but how she loved him. Lonnie felt Elsie watching her. “I want to be thankful for that time and to remember it with fondness. The future can be bright, can’t it, Elsie?” She leaned on the railing and watched the orange glow in the distance blink at her through the treetops. “It can be bright.”
“So … just like I showed you yesterday. Ready?”
Gideon felt Tal watching over his shoulder. “All right.” He let out a quick breath. Kneeling, Gideon held on to the base of a small apple tree. “I take the stock and notch it like this. Into a point with flat sides.”
“With … a …”
“Sharp, clean knife. Keep it clean. Keep it sharp.”
“That’s right. And then?”
Pressing his tongue inside his cheek, Gideon picked up a delicate branch. “On the scion … slit it just like this.” He moved the knife with slow, careful strokes. “Notched to fit flesh to flesh.” Holding his breath, he carefully slid the two pieces together. They fit perfectly. With quick hands, he grabbed a piece of twine and began wrapping the union, securing the pieces in place. “Snug at first, then wrap tighter as you go. Last comes the wax, locking out any air. Ensuring a good fit.”
“Spoken like a man who’s done this a hundred times.”
“Actually it’s spoken like a man who has his boss leaning over his shoulder.”
Tal clapped him on the back. “Well done. Now to do a few hundred more.”
“Nothin’ to it,” Gideon said in jest. “But honestly. Is this all right?” He fingered his handiwork. “Will it take?” The breeze tousled his hair and flapped the open edges of his coat.
“Only time will tell. You did it as right as anyone else would have.”
Gideon had been there less than a week, and already Tal had shown him all they would be doing over the course of the month as they grafted trees. The work had intimidated him at first, and while he still feared failing Tal, something about bonding the two branches together filled him with the satisfaction of this work. Gideon put his knife away and rolled up the twine, all the while praying the two separate trees might grow into one. Mold into a flesh that wouldn’t know where it began or where it ended. It would just be.
It would grow. Produce. He nearly smiled at the thought. “What should I do with these things?”
“Just pack it all in that crate. It’ll keep ’til morning. We’ll come back and begin the real work.” Tal slid his knife into a sheath. “Now that I know you aren’t going to single-handedly take down my orchard.”
Gideon scratched his head but grinned. “Let’s hope not.”
In the distance, Mrs. Jemson rang the supper bell.
Tal pushed the crate out of the way. He once again fingered the tree Gideon had just grafted. “We’ll label as we go. That’s the key. Otherwise we’ll run into trouble without knowing what’s what.”
Gideon picked up a spray of cuttings and pieces of twine, then tossed them into the crate. He rested his forearm on his raised knee as he glanced out over the acres upon acres of leafless trees. Some tall and broad, having withstood the test of time. Others young, untried. The small branches in his hand offered so much possibility. So much of what could be. And here he was, able to be a part of it. Gideon drew in a contented breath, wishing Lonnie were here to share it with him.
The desire to bring it home to her sparked within. Yet it was overshadowed by his greater desire. The longing he had to call out across the miles, to tell her that he was coming and that she was all he could think about.
Tell her not to be afraid. For he was returning to her.
Gideon stood, brushed the dust from his pants, and prayed this month would pass quickly.
Ten
“Be sure to always use a capital letter at the beginning of the sentence.” At the desk in the parlor, Lonnie leaned over her little sister’s work.
“Every time?” Addie asked.
“Every time.” Lonnie gave Addie’s braid a playful tug. “And what goes at the end?”
Using her chalk, Addie scribbled a messy dot after the last word of her sentence.
“Very good.” Lonnie knelt at her side. Jacob would be asleep upstairs for at least an hour, and Lonnie was thankful for the time to work with Addie on her lessons. “Soon, you’ll be able to write a letter to Ma. Now—”
At a knock on the door, Lonnie lifted her head.
With Elsie upstairs dusting, Lonnie rose before Elsie might bother coming down. “Just a moment,” she said to Addie. “I’ll be right back.”
Her stockinged feet made nary a sound as she crossed into the kitchen and peeked through the window. She spotted Toby on the porch, a package in his hands. He wore no hat, and his dark hair was slicked off to one side. He spotted her, and a single dimple appeared.
One hand pressed to the bodice of her blouse and the other on the knob, she took a quick, steadying breath before opening the door and letting in a burst of cold air. “Hello, Toby.”
“Good afternoon.” He switched the package from one hand to the other. He glanced into the quiet house. “Is this a bad time?”
“No, no. Come on in.” She held the door open wider. “Please. Elsie’s just upstairs and Jebediah’s out in the barn.”
“Thank you.” He stepped in and yanked off his coat before draping it over the chair. His shoulder brushed hers in the tight space. “I need a bit o’ help and was wond’rin’ if you might be able to …” He set the poorly wrapped package on the table and worked on the tangled string. It knotted worse under his oversized fingers. “Och.”
“Here,” Lonnie said with a smile. She gently pushed his hands aside. “Let me see.” She made quick work of the knot and unfolded the paper. “Fabric.”
“Yes.”
“You brought me white fabric.”
“Yes. No. Well, it’s not for you.” He scratched the back of his head. “But now I feel guilty about that.”
Lonnie pulled out the soft folds. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” They shared a laugh. “Let’s start again, shall we?”
“Please.” Toby motioned to what he’d brought. “You see, I ordered a new shirt from Mount Airy, and Mrs. Krause said she was heading into town and that she would pick it up for me.”
“And this is what they sent you.”
“Aye. Four yards of fabric.” He lifted his hands, his dimples deep. “I dinna ken what to do with it.”
Still laughing, Lonnie unfolded it. “So you need a shirt?”
“ ’Twould appear that way.” His eyes sparkled with mischief.
“You’ll help me?”
She patted his sturdy forearm. “I’d be happy to.”
“Och. I thank you.”
“First, though, I’ll need to take your measurements.”
“All right.”
“Follow me into the parlor.”
“Now?”
“Unless you’d rather do it another time?”
“No. I mean … I dinna want to interrupt you.”
She waved him forward. “I was just working with Addie on her spelling, and Jacob’s napping. Please, stay.”
Toby ducked his head.
Lonnie gathered up the fabric and carried it into the parlor. “Mr. McKee is here,” she called to Addie.
The little girl smiled a toothy grin at the tall Scotsman.
“But I want you to finish your schoolwork,” Lonnie added.
Nodding quickly, Addie turned to her slate and began scribbling away as if her life depended on it. Toby flashed Lonnie an amused glance.
“Just stand right here in the center of the room.” Crouching, Lonnie pulled Elsie’s sewing basket from beside the sofa. “And it’ll only take a moment. We’ll want everything to fit you just right.” The measuring tape unraveled when she pulled it out, landing in a coil between them. “If you’ll hold your arm out like this.”
She gently touched his wrist, showing him how. “That’s it. Now just a moment.” Pinching the end of the measuring tape, Lonnie pressed it to the top of Toby’s broad shoulder, then slid the tape down the length of his arm, her hands brushing the inside of his wrist. The skin soft and warm. Standing so close to him, she caught the sweet scent of evergreen. Her heart nearly tripped over itself. Pressing the tape firmly on both ends, she made sure it was taut. “Thirty-seven,” she mumbled.
Toby stared at the empty space between them. Standing so close, the space suddenly seemed nonexistent.
Thirty-seven. Or was it thirty-six? Fighting a blush, Lonnie quickly measured him again. “I should write that down before I forget it,” she said weakly. She moved to the desk and pulled out a scrap of paper. She found a stubby pencil in the drawer and jotted down the number. “Now I just need to measure your shoulders.”
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