“Thanks, Elsie.” He watched her disappear.
In the parlor, he worked the buttons of his shirt loose and draped it over the banister. Settling down on the steps to wait for Elsie, he leaned forward and clasped his hands. The soft sounds of Lonnie lulling their son to sleep floated down. A lullaby. Running his hands together, Gideon closed his eyes.
Twenty-One
Lonnie dropped the dishes in the empty washtub and pulled her hands back so Elsie could fill it. “Thank you.” Using a wooden spoon, Lonnie scrubbed at the roast pan, sticky from the remainder of caramelized onions. When her elbow burned, she smeared the back of her hand over her forehead. Voices filtered in from the parlor, but Lonnie was too busy with her thoughts to listen.
She scrubbed at a spoon until Elsie finally plucked the sparkling piece from her fingers, and it was then she realized she’d polished the same utensil for the last several minutes. Elsie’s eyebrows lifted, creasing her forehead. Lonnie turned back to her work and, even as her cheeks blushed, knew she could sooner catch a sky full of fireflies than she could contain her thoughts.
“Gideon.” Elsie said the single word softly, watching her.
Lonnie drew in a shaky breath. “I spent all these months trying to move on.”
“And how did it go?”
Lonnie gave her a look and knew it was enough when Elsie smiled. Lonnie dipped her rag into the warm water. After a few moments, she finally spoke. “He’s changed, Elsie.” She cleaned a cup inside and out.
“In ways.” Elsie said thoughtfully, stacking cups in a high cupboard.
The tuning of a mandolin drifted into the kitchen. Lonnie and Elsie lifted their heads in unison. Gideon strummed a quick lick, only a few chords long, then tuned again, the bitter notes becoming sweeter. Several moments of silence, and Lonnie heard Jebediah put in a request.
The song began.
“You go on, Elsie. We can finish this up later.”
Nodding softly, Elsie tossed her dishtowel aside.
“I’ll be in in just a moment.”
After watching her leave, Lonnie stood for several minutes, cup in hand, water dripping down her elbow. Then she placed the dish in the tub and grabbed a towel. She shook out the damp folds of her apron and stepped into the parlor. Gideon sat on the edge of the fireplace, knees jutted up. His fingers slowed when she walked in.
“Don’t mind me.” She slid into the desk chair. Addie sat on the floor with Jacob in her lap, where the boy chewed on a piece of bread from supper. Crumbs caught on his rounded tummy.
Gideon plucked skillfully in soft rhythm, betraying the likelihood of only one instrument bringing the music to life. Jebediah and Elsie exchanged glances. Lonnie understood the look they shared—this was a treat. And you? Lonnie pressed her hand to her collarbone. With his head bowed, Gideon seemed in a world of his own. She couldn’t help but watch him. His fingers moved effortlessly; the music he created formed in perfect harmonies. It was her song. But it had grown, matured. She had never heard anything like it.
His hair seemed darker than she remembered, ruddier, less golden. The way it looked in the winter, when the summer sun could not lighten it as if God had laced it with golden straw. The freckles on his nose had faded as well. Lonnie pressed her hands in her lap. She had missed it all. She’d said good-bye to him in the fall, and here he was, months later, before her again.
What have you been doing, Gideon? Every day, every hour that he was gone, he was with another. She’d lost a part of his life. And Cassie? Cassie had gained memories—moments—with the man Lonnie, no matter how desperately she wished it were so, could not steal back. She felt the surge of jealousy afresh and pushed it away, knowing full well it would not heal her pain. As Elsie had told her long ago, jealousy only hurts the one who feels it.
Jacob slid from Addie’s embrace, and when his small hand found the hem of Lonnie’s skirt, she hoisted him onto her lap. She buried her nose in his soft curls and savored his sweet scent, slightly soapy from a recent bath. His feet kicked, then stilled. As his head pressed against her shoulder, she felt him sigh. His hand fell limp on her leg, his half-eaten bread forgotten.
Rarely did he sit so still. He stared at his father, his chubby fingers in his mouth. Lonnie kissed the top of Jacob’s head. When Gideon looked up, his eyes first found hers, then drifted to their son. He smiled. A wholeness lived in his expression. A yearning in his eyes. He longed for his son. In ways she would never understand. For she had not been forced away.
As if hearing her thoughts, he lowered his face, seeming to turn his attention back to the music. But when his eyebrows lifted and his eyes locked with hers once more, she knew otherwise.
Leaning against the door frame of the darkened room, Gideon tucked his hands in his pockets and nearly held his breath. Lonnie smoothed her hand over Jacob’s forehead and, kneeling in front of the large cradle Gideon made, placed the sleeping child in his bed. Jacob stirred but did not wake. Lonnie lifted his quilt over him and tucked it securely on both sides.
The glass panes rattled softly. She turned her face to the window. Gideon stood frozen in place, knowing he should make his presence known but finding it impossible to do so. He lifted a corner of his plaid shirt and tugged his undershirt free of his pants, letting the fabric fall loose around his hips. The end of another day.
Lonnie pulled the curtains closed.
“Will he be warm enough?” Gideon kept his voice low so as not to startle her.
Without turning, she nodded softly. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and lower his chin to her shoulder as he once had. But he didn’t move. When Lonnie faced him, she seemed to sense as much and folded her hands in front of her skirt.
“I should leave,” he said.
She squinted, as if frustrated it had to be this way. “Would you like to kiss him good night?”
Gideon sucked in a breath. “I don’t know if that’s a—”
“Please.” She stepped toward the door, brushing past him without looking up. “Take your time.”
He watched her stroll through the hall and quietly pad down the stairs.
Gideon straightened and his eyes roved the familiar room. Memories flooded him, and knowing it would be unwise to let them linger, he knelt beside Jacob’s cradle and traced his thumb over his son’s velvet cheek. Like black fringe, the little boy’s lashes rested on plump cheeks, white nightshirt not fully buttoned. With fumbling, oversized fingers, Gideon pushed the last two buttons into place.
“It’s me,” he whispered, sliding his knees forward until they knocked against the bottom of the low cradle. Gideon leaned forward. He kissed Jacob’s forehead, finally his nose. The boy shifted and rolled to his side, a relaxed sigh escaping him. Draping an arm on each side of the small child, Gideon pressed his ear to Jacob’s chest and closed his eyes.
Careful not to place any weight on his son, Gideon listened to the rhythm of the boy’s heartbeat, which brought a sting of tears to his eyes. He thought this day would never come. Lifting his head, he stared down at his son. “I love you,” he whispered, unable to keep the longing from his voice.
After rising, Gideon stepped softly from the room. At the base of the stairs, he found Jebediah and Elsie reading by the firelight. Addie was curled up on the sofa beside Elsie, her head in the older woman’s lap. Gideon nodded when they looked up, but he was too interested in the quiet movement coming from the kitchen to linger anywhere else.
He found Lonnie sitting at the table, one leg pulled beneath her. His shirt in her hands.
Stuffing his fists in his pockets, he leaned against the jamb. “Elsie was going to do that.”
Lantern light fell golden across her skin when she looked up. “Elsie spent the afternoon at a quiltin’ bee. They made a wedding quilt for the McGuire couple. So I just offered.”
A tug on the nearest chair, and he sat opposite her. “I appreciate it.”
“Oh … and Elsie said when the family heard you were back in town, they asked if you
’d play.”
“I can do that.”
“It’s next Friday.”
He nodded. “I’ll remember to take a bath then.”
He could tell she was trying not to smile. In no hurry to be anywhere but beside her, he clasped his hands in front of him and rested his forearms on the table.
“What did you do?” she asked, holding up the tear.
“Caught it on a nail.” He let out a low chuckle. “I suppose some things never change.”
She shook her head, but her lips suggested she agreed. “Didn’t you bring any other clothes?”
Gideon flicked his collar. “You’d think so. But I didn’t have much.”
Lonnie moved her hand beneath the fabric, then her needle spliced through. “Did you just leave everything you owned in Rocky Knob?”
“I didn’t have much,” he repeated.
“No?”
“Just what we brought to visit your family. Everything in that little sack.” He held his hands in front of him, close enough to mirror the size of his pack. He tipped his chin. “I didn’t exactly want to stay.”
Her mouth fell open, then clamped shut. “Of course you didn’t. I’m sorry.” She lowered her hand to the table, the needle idle between her fingers.
“I didn’t expect you to, uh—” He tugged at Jebediah’s shirt, and his eyes lifted upstairs.
“I’m so sorry.”
He could tell she meant it. “You couldn’t have kept anything?” He knew the answer would pain him, but he needed to know.
“There was no point.” Then her voice turned thoughtful. “There were some things I kept.”
“My coat.” He let a confident smile surface.
“Don’t be smug.” She turned her attention back to her sewing. Her stitch went wide, and she tried to yank it loose but the thread knotted in several loops. With a click of her tongue, she freed her needle and tried to save the thread.
“Am I making you nervous?”
“Not in the slightest.”
Her foot bounced, voiding her words. The scissors spliced, and she discarded the gnarled bit. Snatching up the spool of white thread, she unwound a long piece and used her teeth to break it off.
Gideon had to stifle another smile. He crossed his boots, one over the other, and slid them forward. When his feet bumped hers, he pulled back and straightened. “So, what have you been up to? I mean, aside from finding a new husband.”
She plunked her sewing onto the table. “You can be really difficult.”
He tipped his chin, his heartbeat rising. “How long did you wait?”
“What?”
He spoke again, this time emphasizing each individual word. “How long did you wait?”
“You mean … meeting Toby?”
He nodded.
“I don’t know if that’s your business.” Color rose into her cheeks.
“You said we could talk.”
She closed her eyes as if to gain control of her irritation. Gideon shifted in his seat. When she finally looked at him, her gaze was sharp, and he knew he was walking a thin line.
“The Bennetts invited him for supper. He was a friend to them. It was … oh, I don’t know … a handful of weeks after I came back. A little longer, perhaps.” She shook her head as if she didn’t want to think back to those days.
“That’s it? A few weeks?” He regretted the words the moment they slipped out.
Her mouth twisted to the side. With slow movements, she pressed her needle into the fabric and stood. “And how long did you wait?” Her voice held a thousand hurts. “How many weeks … or was it just days that you waited after Cassie before you kissed me that night outside my house? I could scarcely stop you.”
He swallowed. “Lonnie, I’m so sorry.”
She pushed away from the table, her sewing forgotten in a heap on the chair. He heard her say good night to Jebediah and Elsie before her footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Twenty-Two
Gideon watched as Jebediah walked the length of the field, counting his paces as he did. The man’s husky voice grew distant as his figure faded away, becoming smaller with each step, until the trees cast him in early-morning shadows. As he returned, Gideon shifted his weight, anxious to know if his plan would work.
“I’d say it’s a quarter acre of usable land. The rest would have to be cleared.” Jebediah stroked his beard.
Gideon pointed over the older man’s shoulder. “That portion there could be cleared easy enough. Half the trees are dead, and the wood that’s still green is small enough to manage. With a little work, I could add another quarter acre.”
“I take it you’ll be needing help. A lot of work for one person.” His eyes sparkled as he studied his unused land.
“You up for it, Jeb?”
“It would be a lot of work.” But he grinned.
Using his elbow, Gideon nudged him. “You know you’re gonna help me. It’s for the good of the farm.”
“Good of the farm, huh?” His smile widened.
“I need to get the bare roots in the ground while they’re still dormant. Less than a month.”
When Jebediah nodded, his aged face, lit by the rising sun, was somber. “Have you talked it over with Lonnie?”
“Should I?” Gideon hitched his thumb in his belt. “She’s not my wife. Doesn’t seem interested in the notion of becoming my wife, even if that were possible, so I didn’t really see the point.” When Jebediah let out a low chuckle, Gideon felt his irritation heighten. “It’s not funny.”
“It’s very funny. She’s bein’ stubborn. So are you. And you’re in a heap of trouble. And poor Reverend McKee—”
“Needs to keep to himself.” Gideon folded his arms. “I’ll talk to Lonnie about it.”
“I’d say that’s wise.”
“It still won’t make her think any different of me,” Gideon said softly. “I don’t think anything I do will.”
“I’d say so far you’ve consistently annoyed the socks off her.”
Gideon struck Jebediah’s arm with the side of his fist. “Thanks.”
“Just bein’ truthful.”
“I know. That’s why it hurts. You mean everything you say, you old goat. And it usually has to do with pointing out how much I screw up in life.”
The lines around Jebediah’s eyes deepened. He turned and Gideon followed. They walked in silence for several steps before Jebediah spoke up. “You screw up less than you think.”
Gideon glanced at him. “That’s not true and you know it.”
“I’m being honest. Look back to where you started, Gid.” He squeezed Gideon’s shoulder. “The first day we met.”
Gideon blinked, knowing Jebediah was right. But still, he did not feel the relief it should have given him. He was changed in many ways, yes, but in some, he was still the same man. The man with the short fuse and sharp tongue. Those traits—though he despised them—were laced through him. He did not know if he would ever be rid of them. Gideon held on to his thoughts as they crossed the yard. Just as the sun burst over the treetops, warming his back, they reached the house and ducked into the kitchen.
Lonnie did not look at him while she stirred the porridge. And she did not look at him when she placed a steaming bowl near his hand. Sitting at the table beside Jebediah, Gideon nodded his thanks and knew better than to try to talk to her. Not here. But he would as soon as he got the chance.
When Jebediah handed him the small pitcher of cream, Gideon drizzled it over his breakfast. Without bothering to stir, he dipped his spoon into the thick oats. Soft, small voices filtering from upstairs told him the children were just waking up. Lonnie disappeared, and by the time Gideon had nearly finished his food, she lowered Jacob into his seat. Addie climbed onto a chair much too big for her and yawned.
With Jacob’s hair standing on end and his small eyes squinty, Gideon could not help but rustle his son’s curls.
“Would you like to feed him?” Lonnie scooped porridge into a small, chipped
bowl.
“I’d love to. You think he’d let me?”
“Worth a try.” She set the bowl on the table and dipped a teaspoon into the mush. Taking a small amount, Gideon pulled Jacob’s highchair around to his side, then lifted the porridge to Jacob’s lips, and he took it. Cream dribbled down the boy’s chin, and snatching his napkin from his lap, Gideon carefully wiped it away. “He likes it.”
Lonnie slid in beside him. “He loves to eat. Like someone else I know.” She stirred honey into her oats.
“I can’t believe he’s letting me feed him.”
“Quickest way to the boy’s heart.” Elsie placed a cup of coffee in front of Jebediah. “He’s getting used to you again. He’s beginning to trust you.” She placed a second cup in front of him.
“You think so?” Gideon offered Jacob another bite, which the boy gobbled down. His small feet kicked beneath his tray. When he showed Gideon his tongue, Gideon lifted another spoonful of oats that slid off, hitting the wooden tray with a plop. He scraped it up with the spoon, and Elsie, passing by with a rag, wiped it away. “Sorry, Elsie. I’ve never fed a baby before.”
Lonnie looked at him. “Not even your younger brothers and sisters?”
Gideon shrugged. “I wasn’t exactly the most useful person.” He glanced at her in time to see her expression grow soft, knowing.
“Well, you’re doin’ a good job.” She offered him a warm smile.
“Thanks.” He wanted to say more but knew he’d better think through any words that came out of his mouth from now on. He’d be a fool to keep hurting her. By the time Lonnie had finished her breakfast and dropped her bowl in the washtub, Gideon was scraping the remainder of Jacob’s oats into one final bite.
With the rag, Elsie stepped forward and reached for Jacob’s fist.
“I’ll do that.” Gideon took the damp cloth and wiped the boy’s sticky fingers. Jacob was soft in his hands when Gideon lifted him out of his highchair. Gideon took his son and carried the boy into the parlor, overjoyed when he did not protest. Sinking to his knees, Gideon placed Jacob on the floor in front of him.
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