Nineteen
Crash. Lonnie’s eyes flew open.
Thunk. Thunk. She sat up in bed. Another crash. She slid from the warm covers, her bare feet arguing with her even as she tiptoed across the freezing floor to the window. The back of her hand grazed the lace curtains. Just enough to peek through unseen.
Thunk. Thunk. Two pieces of wood joined the pile. Gideon placed another hunk of wood on the block. He picked up his ax and, in one smooth motion, brought it down.
Crash. The halves spiraled away.
His breath fogged, and Lonnie’s hands involuntarily rubbed up and down her nightgown sleeves. She shivered but did not hurry back to bed, where Addie tossed in her sleep.
Setting his ax on its blade, Gideon bent and gathered the wood. Lonnie squinted as she watched him. Split, stack. It was not the most efficient method, but she recognized the rhythm and knew he was lost in thought. She watched him work, wishing his thoughts could be displayed like words on a page. But that was never Gideon’s way.
She pulled her nightgown over her head and tossed it aside, then splashed ice-cold water on her face. Unraveling her braid, she loosened the kinks and gnarls, twisting it into a low bun at the nape of her neck. She snagged her dress from the back of the rocking chair and was still buttoning it up even as she searched for her shoes. Lonnie stepped quietly down the stairs. She grabbed her coat and threw it over her shoulders before opening the back door. Gideon looked up, then stood motionless. Lonnie slipped her hands through the sleeves.
Although the sky was still a dusky gray, there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Her shoes crunched across the frost that had gathered on yesterday’s thin layer of snow.
Gideon lifted his chin when she approached, any thoughts of chopping wood clearly forgotten. “It’s too cold for you to be out this early.”
Lonnie slid her hands into her coat pockets. “Then neither should you.” But she knew he’d slept on the ground in weather colder than this.
Gideon moved a hunk of wood to the block. He gripped the ax handle.
Lonnie flinched when the splitting of wood shattered the silence.
“I know that coat.” Turning, he stacked the pieces.
Running her thumb against the edge of the sleeve, she spoke the truth. “I couldn’t part with it.”
As if her face told more of the story, he studied her.
She searched for a way to change the subject. “I see you’re busy at work already. You don’t waste any time, do you?” She circled around him. His eyes followed.
“I couldn’t sleep. Besides”—he motioned toward the woodpile—“it needed to be done.”
Her finger poked out of the oversized sleeve toward the woodpile. “Toby helped Jebediah keep it going this winter—”
“Toby.”
“Reverend McKee,” she added softly.
“I know who you meant.”
Her eyebrows pinched together. “Don’t be like this.”
Gideon turned back to his task and split another piece of wood, ignoring the fragments. He immediately split another, and his breathing picked up. “Sorry.” He tapped the side of the ax blade against his boot before leaning the handle against the block. Crouching, he gathered up the pieces.
It seemed impossible to be speaking to him in this moment.
Her heart ached. Torn, she pressed her hand to her forehead. Every moment that he should have been by her side tallied up to a mound of heartache. A grief she’d forced into the attic of her heart, where it could not torture her every waking moment.
Because every moment that he hadn’t spent with her … he had been with another.
Lonnie wasn’t prepared to face that. She’d always planned on tucking it out of sight. Burying it. But here he stood.
Wood thudded onto the pile. His eyebrows tilted back, the same sad expression returning. “Reverend McKee … He seems like a good man. He stepped in when I couldn’t.” Gideon glanced toward the trees, and Lonnie wondered where his thoughts traveled. “I owe him my thanks.”
She shifted her numb feet. “Really?”
“Absolutely.”
“He’d be pleased to know you felt that way.”
“I’d be happy to tell him.” Gideon rested his ax on the toe of his boot and turned the handle from side to side. “Right before I tell him that I’ll take it from here.”
“You’ll what?”
“That Jebediah won’t need his help anymore. No sense in the poor man coming all this way to do farm work that I can do now.”
“Gideon, that’s not your decision.”
He picked at a splinter in his palm. A pretend one from what Lonnie could see.
“So what is the decision, Lonnie?” His voice was soft against his chest.
She folded her arms and moved closer. “At the moment, nothing. Unless I understood wrong … you’re still married.” The ache burned so fresh it throbbed.
They stood a touch away. His eyes unmasked pain. “That’s going to change, Lonnie. And please”—he brushed her hair back with his broad hand—“tell me you’ll marry me when that time comes.” His thumb grazed her chin, and she quickly pulled away.
“I don’t know. I don’t know what to think about you. This is all so new.”
“What do you mean?”
“You and Cassie. I—” She squinted up at him. “I don’t know what to think about that. For you to be with her and then just come back here like nothing ever changed.” She tugged at a loose thread, turning it between her fingers, her throat so tight she feared the words wouldn’t come. She swallowed hard, fighting the lump. “You’re not the same man who left me. You’re not mine anymore.” She motioned between them. “I can’t tell you what that does to me. You loved her.”
“I don’t love Cassie. I only love you.”
“But …”
“No. Lonnie.” He pressed a hand to his abdomen. “I never … Cassie and I were never …”
The words slipped out thin. “But a baby?”
“Baby?” He swallowed visibly, his eyes so wide she couldn’t look away. “No baby, Lonnie.” He motioned toward Rocky Knob. “There’s no baby.”
“What?”
Urgently, he spoke. “There’s not even a chance of there being a baby.”
Not even a chance. Her head spun. Knees shaking, she crouched. Her bun came loose, and her hair fell in a curtain when she lowered her head in her hands. “Gideon, I don’t understand.” The words came out slowly, her voice muffled. Finally, she peered up at him. “Reverend Gardner and I were talking, and he said she’d been ill, and I thought … I thought she was expecting.”
“Oh, Lonnie.” He knelt in front of her. “No. It’s impossible. I need you to know that. I need you to understand. I never loved Cassie.”
Lonnie studied his face.
“I fear that makes me a bad person, that I failed Cassie as a husband. But I only wanted you.”
A single sob escaped her, and Lonnie slammed her eyes shut. His hands were around hers, his skin so rough and perfect. Her Gideon. Her sweet, sweet Gideon. Was it truly possible? The dying pieces of her heart tingled back to life.
“You’re it, Lonnie. You’re all I ever want. All I’ll ever need.”
She thought he was going to kiss her, so close was his face, but he pulled back quickly, deliberately. She looked at him as he pressed the back of his hand to his mouth. His eyes were troubled. Then he glanced past her, and his expression changed. Hardened.
She was about to turn when he spoke.
“Please say you’ll wait for me.”
Lonnie settled deeper, not caring that the snow was soaking her stockings. A horse whinnied at the far end of the yard. She didn’t need to glance behind her to know who it was.
The back of Gideon’s neck burned. The muscles in his shoulders tightened.
Toby tugged his mount to a halt and jumped down. Leading the horse behind him, he blinked several times as if stunned to see Gideon standing there.
Probably a nervous tic. G
ideon strode toward him, feeling guilty that he’d left Lonnie behind. But his frustration tamped down any clear thinking. “What do you want?” he asked as coolly as he could.
“I’ve come to see Lonnie.”
“What if she doesn’t want to see you?” He crossed his arms over his chest.
Without answering, Toby led his horse forward. Gideon mimicked his steps until they were shoulder to shoulder, almost touching.
“Can I help you with something?”
“Yes. Leave.”
Glancing sideways, Toby looked at him. Almost through him.
Gideon forced his gaze to remain steady.
“I’ve come to tell her I won’t be able to take her riding tomorrow as I’d promised.”
“Good, because you won’t be welcome tomorrow.” Lonnie was his wife. Or so she had been. Gideon ran a hand up his forearm. Sick because of all that was at stake.
“I don’t expect you to like me.”
“Right.” Suspenders limp around his knees, Gideon itched for a fight.
“And I canna say I blame you. But I’m going to talk about this with Lonnie. It’s only fair for this to be her decision.”
“I don’t know what you think this is, but—”
“Stop it, Gideon!” Lonnie was at his side.
They looked at her in unison. Toby’s eyes danced over her face. Gideon wanted to slug him.
“Gideon.” She grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him away.
Stunned, Gideon simply followed.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Toby strode to the porch and sat down.
Gideon scratched the back of his head. “I was just …”
“Just what?”
“I just … don’t see why he had to come here. Now. This moment.”
The breeze stirred her hair against her cheek, and she let out a slow breath. “I do need to talk to him. Hopefully without your trying to punch him.” Disappointment clear in the set of her mouth, her hand moved to his chest, gently pushing him back a step, in the opposite direction of Toby. “But first”—she looked up at Gideon—“is what you said really true?”
“It is, Lonnie. I promise.” How he wished he had some proof to give her, but he had only his word. He prayed it was enough. “We’ll talk about it more. We’ve got all the time in the world, right?”
The man who had her promise of marriage sat stone still, and Lonnie turned to look at him. Gideon forced himself to breathe. She glanced back at Gideon. He sensed her distress. As if she wanted to be in two places at once.
Suddenly feeling like he didn’t belong, Gideon stepped back. “I won’t keep you.”
“I’m sorry, Lonnie.” Toby slid over on the step when she neared. She sat down beside him. “I shouldna have come here today. I came to talk to you about t’morrow. And Gideon thought … He thought he and I should talk.” Toby’s voice was calm, but an edge tainted it. “Canna say I disagree.”
“I’m so sorry for this. Yesterday was a special day. And now …” Now it was all a mess. What would have been their celebration made so different by Gideon’s return. Lonnie didn’t know where to begin.
Then Toby spoke. “I thought a lot last night. About us.”
“You did?”
Eyes dark, he ran a hand over his face. “What else would I have thought about, Lonnie?” His tone was raw. “I decided something and just wanted you to know.” He motioned toward Gideon. “I won’t try and take you from him. I know that’s what he fears … but it wouldna be right.” Slowly, he shook his head, then peered sideways at her. “Doesn’t mean I wouldna like to try.” He winked, surprising her.
For the briefest of moments, she pressed her head to his shoulder as she once had so freely. Now she didn’t know what to do. Everything was tangled. All her hopes and dreams knotted with the past. All that had been and could have been suddenly wasn’t water under the bridge.
Toby sighed.
Straightening, Lonnie wrapped her hands around her knees, tucking her skirt in. “Gideon is still married to Cassie.”
“He is?”
She nodded. “He’s been to the courthouse, and things are unsettled with it all. I’m not sure what’s gonna happen.”
“What is your hope?”
“My hope?” Tears stung her eyes. “I’m not sure. It’s all happening so fast.”
“All the more reason for me to take a step back. I dinna want you to feel any more pressure in all of this. You have much to sort through, and I dinna want to make that more difficult on you.”
“Thank you, Toby. But”—she smiled at him—“don’t think I’m going to just let you up and walk away.”
A dimple appeared. “Wasn’t planning on it. I said I dinna want to make your life difficult.” He pointed to where Gideon had gone into the barn. “Now it would be just a wee bit fun making—”
Her elbow in his side silenced him. “You two!”
Toby held his hands up, the picture of innocence. Then his expression sobered. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For letting me be here. As your friend.”
She chose her words carefully, wanting to speak nothing but the truth. “You’re more than my friend, Toby. I hope you know that.”
Twenty
Sliding a crate toward himself, Gideon wiped the dust from his pants and gripped his hammer. The wood creaked, complaining against the movement after sitting untouched for so many years. The nails pulled loose, and the crate opened. Another box of books. He replaced the lid, pulled two nails from his lips, and pounded them into place. The lid groaned and squeaked. He slid the crate out of his way and reached for another.
Now that Lonnie had hired herself a new wood splitter, Gideon had sought out Elsie, seeing what he could do to make himself useful. Elsie had been eager to put him to work and asked him to find a crate of baby clothes in the barn. So here he was. Gideon steadied his grip on the hammer handle before flipping it over. The old wood popped and splintered, and then the nail hit the floor in a series of clinks. The lid slid off with a puff of dust. Gideon’s shoulders slumped. Stacks of tiny, earth-colored garments lay neatly piled in rows. The clothes Elsie and Jebediah’s little girl had worn.
Gideon did not have to guess what kind of pain the Bennetts had endured, for their ache mirrored his own. Two daughters lost. Both too young. Gideon swallowed. Sarah. His sweet girl. The child he’d never had the chance to hold.
He rubbed his palm against his forehead, then lifted a tiny wool sweater. He held it to the weak morning sunshine that filtered through the grimy window. A swirl of dust motes and light. With tiny sleeves and a snug collar, the green sweater was just the size to fit Jacob. The little boy had outgrown nearly all his infant clothes. Gideon set the sweater aside. Lonnie would be pleased.
He lifted another item and, shaking it loose from its folds, held up a tiny dress. He fingered the lace collar that had yellowed with age. Heartache struck him again as he thought of what Jebediah must have felt packing these things away all those years ago.
This would have fit Sarah by now. It would crush Lonnie to see this dress. He folded the garment with more care than he’d ever folded anything in his life and set it on his knee. He cleared his throat. Shuffling through the crate, he pulled out the items that would work for Jacob, while leaving the dresses and bows tucked safely out of sight. Replacing the lid, he understood why Elsie had given the task to no one else.
His knees were stiff when he rose. He strode toward the door, then stopped short. Dangling from a peg on the wall was a small chair he’d begun for Jacob. All those months ago. Gideon fingered one of the thin, spindly legs. He’d spent hours shaping it, thinking of his son the entire time. And now …
Gideon glanced toward the house. How many morning cuddles had he missed? How many good-night stories? No wonder his son didn’t know him. Would that God but grant him the chance to change that. He felt sick at the thought of Toby tucking Jacob in at night. Lying down beside Lonnie.
/>
Quickly shaking off the thought, he clutched the clothes to his chest and stepped out. With his boot, he pushed the door closed. He heard fabric rip and felt a burn against his side. Lifting his arm, he saw that a nail had torn through his shirt, scraping all the way to his skin. Perfect. Gideon pressed the latch into place and started for the house beneath a rising sun.
He found Elsie elbow deep in dishwater. He set the clothes on the table, and her eyes followed the movement.
“Thank you, Elsie.” He nodded toward the small stack.
“Lonnie’ll be down in a little while.” Elsie scrubbed at a pan. “She’s upstairs reading to Jacob.”
Gideon shut the kitchen door softly, yearning to join them. But Jacob would probably hurl the book at his head, and Lonnie would probably remind him what a great reader Toby was.
Elsie arched an eyebrow. “Everything all right?”
He realized he was scowling. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
“She won’t be long. May I get you some coffee or something to eat?”
“No, thank you. Oh. But”—he stuck his thumb through the tear on the side of his ribs—“would you mind fetching me another shirt? This is the only other shirt I have right now. My good one’s hanging on the line. There should be a few in the wardrobe.”
Elsie clamped her bottom lip between her teeth.
“What’s wrong?”
“They’re gone.”
“Gone?” A half smile lit his face, uninvited. “She didn’t waste much time getting rid of me.”
“She was a mess, Gid. I think of all people, you’d understand.”
He stared at the wooden floor. “I kept the only thing I had of her.”
“She didn’t have a choice, and you know it.” Elsie glanced upstairs. “It doesn’t mean she wanted to.” Her copper eyes searched his. “So don’t you go thinking otherwise.”
He doubted that. She seemed to have moved on quite nicely. She’d cleared him out of her life and nearly secured a new husband. What else needed to be done? Dig his grave?
“Give her time.” Elsie tugged on his sleeve, her voice soft. “And in the meantime, give me that shirt. I’ll fetch one of Jebediah’s and have this mended for you as soon as I can.”
My Hope Is Found Page 13