My Hope Is Found

by Joanne Bischof

  “Urn …”

  Hand raised, the man pulled down a book thicker than any Gideon had ever seen. In a matter of a few minutes, he explained what needed to be done. Gideon’s ears pricked at the word consummation, but he was beyond any embarrassment there. At least there wasn’t a roomful of people standing behind him this time. He’d been abstinent with Cassie all these months for no other reason than his love for Lonnie. Never once had he thought it would come to his aid in a court of law. Never once had he thought he’d be sitting here with a second chance at a life with Lonnie on the horizon.

  “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  The judge nodded slowly.

  “You’ve figured it out?”

  “Yes, but it’s out of my hands now, so you can wipe that silly grin off your face. I still haven’t received the affidavit from Miss Allan. I sent it three weeks ago. More than enough time for her to have received it. It should return here soon. Very soon, I hope. As I can only imagine you do as well.” The judge pointed to a paragraph in the book and read it aloud.

  Gideon tried to wrap his mind around the legal phrasings. As if sensing it, the judge leaned forward. “Basically, the affidavit that I sent to Miss Allan, confirming that her testimony matches your own, simply needs to be signed and returned.”

  “That’s it?” Hope rose within him.

  For the first time, the judge smiled. “That’s it. I’m leaving out the messy bits, of course.” He arched a silver eyebrow. “All the reading that’s kept me up late at night on more than one occasion. But”—he studied Gideon a moment—“for some reason, I’ve decided to see this through. I’m not normally this willing to take on cases of this nature. But occasionally, I do one for the good of the public. And I’ll have no peace from my wife and Mrs. Peterson”—he flapped a hand toward the hallway—“if I don’t see this through. Your case is a rare one, Mr. O’Riley. And these women have it in their silly heads that …” He grumbled something about true love.

  Gideon grinned.

  “And, well, frankly”—the judge rose and dropped the file back on the stack—“I want you and this mess out of my life once and for all.” Despite his words, the bite in his tone had vanished.

  “So what do I do? What now?” Gideon rose.

  “Go home. Consider the annulment pending, and as soon as it’s final, I will send word.” He lifted the file and held up a document with Jebediah’s return address, the post office in Mount Airy. “This will be the best place to reach you?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “You should receive confirmation shortly. Go home, Gideon O’Riley, and”—he tossed the file aside—“try and take a deep breath.” Pulling out his gold watch, he held it idly in his hand and glanced out the window. “Start now. Young man like you’ll be home in time for Sunday supper.”

  Tomorrow night. Was it truly possible?

  “Thank you, sir.” Gideon shook his hand. “I will. And I can’t thank you enough.” He backed out of the office and strode down the corridor. The receptionist’s head was down in deep concentration. “Thank you, Mrs. Peterson.” She glanced up, and he pressed a hand to his heart, when really he wanted to grab her and kiss her cheek for all she’d done. But he was in enough trouble as it was, so he simply smiled and tipped an imaginary hat. He wished he could thank Mrs. Monroe as well.

  Gideon stepped from the courthouse, his heart near to bursting. The land lay in a thin blanket of snow, but the sky overhead was bright and clear. Without hesitating—without taking time to allow what was happening to sink in—he started up the road. Within minutes he had all he owned on his back, and the road toward home called to him.

  Fifteen

  Toby held the hymnal in one broad palm, and Lonnie turned the page as they sang along. She marveled in the pleasantness of his deep and earthy voice as he formed each word in his handsome Scots. Lonnie sang along, enjoying every moment of this Sunday. Jacob was asleep in Elsie’s arms, and Jebediah looked finer than she’d ever seen him, with his gray beard brushing the dark dress coat she’d seen him wear only once or twice before. Addie stood straight and still, her coffee-colored curls bundled in a pretty ribbon. She lent an enthusiastic off-key voice that was nothing but joyful.

  The congregation sang, some tittering toward the rafters, others belting out a baritone Lonnie could feel right down to her toes. She kept a close eye on the words, having sung this hymn only a couple of times as a girl.

  Feeling joy in the moment, she looped her hand through the crook of Toby’s arm. Savoring his strength. His presence. The smooth, new fabric of his shirt was soft to her hand. She felt his eyes on her and, glancing up, confirmed that she’d captured his attention. Still singing, she turned the page in the hymnal. His arm beneath her hand seemed unsteady, the pages of the hymnal suddenly trembling. Toby’s voice grew quiet. Uncertain, Lonnie let her hand fall free and strengthened her attention on the last words as they fell from her lips.

  Reverend Gardner rose and stepped to the pulpit. His Bible in hand, he offered a brief benediction, then bowed his head. Lonnie closed her eyes. Toby’s shoulder was warm against hers. He took the smallest of steps away from her.

  Whispering an amen, Lonnie couldn’t bring herself to look at Toby when she opened her eyes. Instead, she slid the hymnal in its place and brushed at an imaginary streak of dust on her sleeve. With Jacob still in her arms, Elsie rose and spoke to a woman across the aisle. Without so much as a word, Toby stepped toward a hunched man who waved him over with his cane. Wishing she knew what she’d done, Lonnie moistened her lips. Her heart in her toes, she glanced over her shoulder as she reached for her shawl. A pair of pretty girls sat behind her. Two pairs of blue eyes followed Toby’s movements. It took only a moment for Lonnie to guess that the girls were sisters.

  They glanced at her in unison, and she felt a coolness that made her toss her shawl over her shoulders. Still feeling their scrutiny on her, Lonnie swallowed her uneasiness and extended a hand.

  “I’m Lonnie Sawyer. I don’t know that we’ve met proper.”

  “Lydia McGuire.” The girl shook Lonnie’s hand gently. Her curls pinned back in a bun, she seemed the elder one. “This is my sister Doris.”

  “Oh.” The last name sounded familiar. “Are you the one getting married soon?”

  “No, that’s our older brother.” She hitched a thumb over her shoulder, but Lonnie couldn’t make out who was who in the thick crowd. “You’ll be coming to the wedding, though, I hope.” She had to speak louder as the murmur of mingling voices grew.

  “I believe we will.”

  The girl glanced back at Toby, distracted. “I noticed you comin’ with the Reverend McKee to church this last month.”

  “Yes. He’s a good friend.” Lonnie explained about the wagon and how far off she and the Bennetts lived.

  The other sister leaned in closer, her pale braid, trimmed with a white ribbon, nearly brushing the seat of the pew. “That’s awful nice. Reverend McKee is such a kind man.” Her voice held something that reminded Lonnie of the admirers Toby must certainly have among the congregation.

  Distracted, Lonnie shrugged one shoulder, yearning to join Elsie. “That’s Toby.” Oh, why did she use his Christian name? At the sharp glance they exchanged, Lonnie suddenly wished she’d called him Reverend McKee.

  Turning, she searched for Toby’s broad back, finally finding him beneath one of the tall windows speaking to an older couple. She wondered what it would be like for him to find one of these young ladies. Someone who didn’t have a shadowed past. Didn’t carry such scars.

  Knowing she oughtn’t just sit there like a dunce, Lonnie searched for something to say, but words didn’t come. Then, seeing Elsie talking to a couple near the back of the church, Lonnie rose to help her with Jacob. “I’ll see you Friday at the wedding,” she said to the sisters. “Thank you.” She found the Bennetts nearing the door, and with Jacob still rubbing a hand across his eyes, Lonnie knew it was time to get home. She lifted him from Els
ie’s grasp. Side by side, they walked toward the wagon.

  Suddenly, Toby was beside her. “I saw you speaking with the McGuire girls.” His voice was tight.

  “I thought I’d say hello. I—” She glanced at him. “Why?”

  “No reason.” He walked on, his eyes on the path in front of him. A hundred troubles seemed to float around his shoulders.

  “Toby.” Her hand on his arm made him halt. “Is something the matter?”

  Finally he looked at her, his eyes pained. “I … I …” He stared at her for several heartbeats, then swallowed hard. “Elsie invited me to dinner,” he blurted. Then winced.

  “That’s wonderful. It’ll be so nice to have you.” She said the words slowly, trying to help him along.

  “I had to decline, Lonnie.” His eyes on her were deep and dark. “I’d already accepted an invitation from the McGuires.”

  Lonnie thought of the sisters. “The McGuires,” she repeated.

  “Aye, but …” He ran a hand over his mouth, then formed it into a fist at his side. “Och. Would ye mind, Lonnie, if I came to call on ye this evening?” His Scots grew more lush as the color on his neck rose.

  “Of … of course.”

  But he didn’t smile. Lonnie glanced up to see that they stood beside the wagon. Uneasy, she lowered Jacob into the back and was about to climb in when Toby’s hands gripped her waist, lifting her up. He released her just as quickly, as if he’d been singed by a flame. Warm chills covered her skin, but at his stony expression, her heart was suddenly in her throat.

  Sinking at Jacob’s side, her skirt billowed around them. Toby hesitated a moment before turning his attention to Gael’s feed sack. Shaking her head softly, Lonnie scarcely noticed Jebediah help Elsie onto the wagon seat. Addie crawled over on her own, and Jebediah climbed into the wagon bed beside the little girl.

  The ride home seemed to last a lifetime, with Toby gripping the reins as if it required every ounce of his attention.

  Finally, Elsie settled a basket on the seat between herself and Toby. “Is that the shirt Lonnie just made?”

  “Sorry?”

  “The shirt you’re wearing. It looks very fine.”

  “Aye. A fine seamstress, our Lonnie.”

  Our Lonnie. She folded her hands over her knees, wishing she could make sense of the way his words seemed to collide with his stormy tone. Toby guided the wagon onto the Bennetts’ farm. Lonnie watched the snowy road behind them, remembering the pretty blue eyes of the McGuire sisters.

  As if sensing her unease, Jebediah patted a worn and weathered hand on her boot. He gave it a gentle squeeze, a tender smile in his steel-gray eyes.

  There was once a time—when she was just a wee thing—that Lonnie thought the world to be a perfect place. The next day, after draining a bottle of whiskey, her pa showed her otherwise. That same morning, her mother had knelt in front of her, the tears scarcely dried on Lonnie’s little cheeks. Lonnie could still remember the feel of her mother’s hands, damp and chapped from the dishes as she reached for her own. With love and sadness shining through her brown eyes, Maggie Sawyer had told her something. That if ever Lonnie were to marry, to choose wisely.

  Lonnie hadn’t thought about that moment when she stood in front of the church with Gideon. But suddenly, with afternoon shadows growing long across the Bennetts’ parlor, it all came back to her. Perhaps it was because this time around, she had a choice.

  And her choice was Toby. She prayed that didn’t take away from all Gideon had been to her.

  Lonnie pulled Jacob into her lap, her soiled apron testament to the tarts she and Elsie had made after church. She held her son close. Nestled snug in her lap, he pointed a chubby finger to a picture of a sheep in the book she held. He neighed like a horse, drawing her mind back to the story they were reading. Lonnie kissed his ear.

  “No … see?” She turned the page. “Horse.” She pointed to the animal.

  Jacob neighed again.

  “That’s my boy.” She squeezed him tighter, thankful for all he was in her life, all the while pleading that God would show her the right steps so that her son could have a life so unlike her own. A life of love and laughter.

  Knowing she should get up and put on coffee to go with the tarts, Lonnie slowly closed the book. “That’s all for now. We can look at it more before bedtime.”

  Jacob kicked his feet and squealed. He tried to pry the book back open.

  “No, Jacob. We’re all done for now. You can come help me in the kitchen.” She started to rise, but his fussing continued. Settling him on her hip, Lonnie looked him square in the eye. “Mama said no. You can’t have everything you want when you want it.” She kissed his hand and smeared away a tear. “You’re just like your father,” she whispered, then smiled despite herself. “Just like your father.” Kissing his temple, she swayed slowly and tried not to think of the boy with the mandolin. The boy who’d become a man and stolen her heart.

  But it was too late. For in a rush of emotion, his face filled her mind. Lonnie closed her eyes. Jacob settled his head against her shoulder as they swayed. Melancholy rose within her. Perhaps it was the memories. Perhaps it was the events of the morning.

  She knew she should fight it back, but for just one moment—one heartbreaking moment—she wanted to remember him. Remember the love they’d shared. Remember his smile. His eyes. For he had been real. Their love had been real. Every bit of it. She would be thankful for what it was and what it had been.

  And she would continue to say good-bye.

  Lonnie opened her eyes. A lift of her shoulders, and she blew out a slow sigh, her heartache carrying on it like leaves on a breeze. She gave Jacob a squeeze as they walked into the kitchen. She sent up a prayer of thanks for God’s goodness. His mercy through it all. He was seeing her through, and each day would get easier.

  She set Jacob on the chopping-block surface, and he watched as she pulled the coffee grinder down from its shelf, filled it with dark beans, and cranked the handle. He reached out to help, and she let him try to turn it. “Almost.” Settling her hand around his, she helped him crank the handle. “Thatta boy.” It took her just a minute to get the coffee onto the stove, and then she carried Jacob to the porch. Addie was playing in the yard, doing what she could to form the last of the snow into a ball.

  Lonnie tried not to think of Gideon. And she tried not to think of Toby eating at the McGuires’. Failing at both, Lonnie moved back into the kitchen and lifted the lid on the percolator. You can do this, Lonnie. She would think about coffee. That was simple enough.

  Suddenly Addie ran up the steps and darted into the kitchen. Her dress was damp from her play. “Toby’s here!” She ran back onto the porch, then skidded to a halt. Turning, she was breathless. “Oops! I mean Reverend McKee is here!”

  Hearing the sound of a horse and rider, Lonnie carried Jacob onto the porch.

  Jebediah stepped from the barn, rag in hand. Toby rode Gael over as she strode across the yard.

  “Evenin’.” Jebediah tugged on his beard. “Glad to see ya.”

  Toby dismounted. “Evening.” His jacket was draped over the front of the saddle. Sharply dressed in his waistcoat and crisp white shirt, he pulled the jacket down, folding it over his arm. A bit out of breath, he swallowed hard and glanced from Jebediah to Lonnie, as if she held some unseen magnet.

  “Come on in.” Jebediah waved him toward the house. “The ladies have been doin’ some mighty fine baking this afternoon.”

  “Actually, sir, I wanted to speak with Lonnie, if I may.”

  Lonnie’s heart quickened.

  Jebediah stared at the young man for several breaths before shaking his head. “S-sure. That’d be fine.”

  “I should get Jacob’s sweater.” Was that her who had just spoken?

  But then Jebediah was lifting Jacob from her arms, his eyes kind. Knowing. Lonnie’s heart thundered.

  “I’ll take him inside,” he said softly. “He’ll be waitin’ for you when you’re done.
”

  Lonnie stared into his face. “Thank you, Jebediah.” For more than she could ever say.

  She owed him and Elsie so much thanks. For loving her and Jacob when she and her son had no one else. The gray-haired man walked toward the house, the sunset glinting golden on his plaid coat. Lonnie captured Jacob’s green-eyed gaze, and her chest tightened something fierce.

  “Lonnie.” Toby’s voice was gentle.

  Quickly, she searched for words. “How was your dinner? At the McGuires?” She held her breath, then forced herself to let it out.

  Folding his jacket up tight, Toby gripped it in one hand. His eyes found hers. “Let’s just say I’m glad to see you.”

  A strange mixture of hope and nervousness bubbled up inside her.

  She glanced up at the tall Scotsman. Suddenly wanting this bend in the road. This bend that would take her farther from what was. Because she knew what he had come here for. She felt it in the way he was watching her.

  The fact that they were alone.

  “I’m a mess,” she blurted, realizing she still had on her stained apron. Was one supposed to wear an apron at a time like this? She swallowed hard. She’d never done this before. Never with Gideon. Because Toby was so different from Gideon.

  Gently, he reached for her hand. “You look”—he blinked quickly after studying her longer than a reverend should—“verra fine.”

  She wanted to smile, truly she did, but she didn’t expect these sudden nerves.

  They walked toward the woodpile. With trembling hands, Lonnie sat on the chopping block. “How was your afternoon?” she blurted.

  “Verra well.” But his tone said otherwise. He rubbed his hands up and down his thighs, and Lonnie followed the movement, suddenly unable to look into his face. “I-I brought Jacob a new wooden spoon. I know how much he likes to dig.” A smile carried on his voice.

  “I’m sure he’ll love it,” she whispered.

  “He’s a good lad.”

  “He is.”