My Hope Is Found

by Joanne Bischof

  “His toys are in the basket.” Lonnie stood in the entryway and pointed beneath the desk.

  Before Gideon could pull the basket out, Jacob crawled toward it. He plucked both baby and basket from beneath the desk and moved the whole operation to the center of the rug. Silently, Addie slid in beside him. Gideon looked down on the head of dark curls. She glanced up with large eyes and studied him for a moment before ducking her head sheepishly and pulling out a pair of blocks.

  “These are his favorite.” She set them in Jacob’s reach.

  Jacob lunged toward a block and, using two small hands, lifted a corner to his mouth. Drool followed.

  “He chews on everything,” Addie said with a grin.

  “Does he?” Gideon was secretly grateful for Addie’s knowledge. The only child he ever paid attention to in his life was Jacob, and in the months he was gone, the boy had blossomed from infancy. He knew which end was up, but not much beyond that. Gideon nudged Addie with his elbow and spoke quietly. “What do you think of this kid here?”

  Addie flashed him a toothy grin. “He’s a lot of fun. We play all the time.” She rose to her knees and bounced up and down. “His favorite game is peekaboo.”

  “Is that so?”

  She demonstrated how the game worked, and when Jacob started laughing, Gideon joined in by placing a nearby throw over his head. Every time he yanked it off, flashing Addie and Jacob a cockeyed grin, the children burst into laughter. He threw the blanket over his head and growled. When the children giggled, he pulled it free, his eyes crossed, a goofy smirk on his face.

  Suddenly standing in front of him, Lonnie folded her arms over her chest, amusement bright in her expression.

  “Oh.” Gideon dropped the blanket and smoothed his hair. “Hi there.”

  “Hello.” She bent to lift Jacob, who had been busy playing for nearly an hour. “I ought to get him dressed.” She smiled at him.

  Gideon watched her go, her skirts swaying in rhythm to the soft song she whispered in the boy’s ear. Jacob laid his head on her shoulder, his eyes meeting Gideon’s. The smile on his perfect face was unmistakable.

  Gideon had disappeared while she was changing Jacob. After finding her boots, Lonnie slipped them on in the kitchen. Once outside, she heard Gideon before she found him. She made her way to the barn, where he was clattering about. On the workbench lay countless little branches. Gideon was in the corner, trying to separate two old buckets. With a grunt, he finally pried them loose.

  “What’s all this?”

  Holding the bucket to his chest, he stepped in beside her. “A bit of the future.”

  “Is that so?” Gently, she touched a thin stick. Then she noticed the gnarled, dried roots. “What kind of trees are these?”

  “Apple.”

  “Your orchard.”

  “My orchard.”

  But she sensed that wasn’t the way he wanted it. Folding her hands behind her skirt, she leaned back against the work surface, the weathered wood rough against her hands. She watched him work in silence for several moments. Finally she spoke. “Gideon, what’s going to happen?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “With the courthouse. With Cassie.”

  “Does this mean you like me?”

  “You can be so impossible sometimes.” She tried to focus on a stray thread in her blouse. “I’ve been meaning to ask you …”

  Pressing a palm against the work surface, he leaned casually on that arm. “Ask me anything.”

  “It’s about Cassie.”

  Briefly, he closed his eyes. “I promise you I will tell you the truth.”

  Lonnie moistened her lips. “What happened? You were married to her for months. Yet you never touched her. I believe you … but I just don’t understand. If I’m not mistaking, you did care for her once. Very much.”

  An emotion passed in his eyes. His face sobered and he didn’t glance away. “Um …” Turning fully, he leaned both hands against the workbench and stared at his boots. “I just did whatever I could think of. I slept in the rocking chair most nights.”

  “And … and the others?” Her voice sounded small.

  Green eyes found hers. “I kept my distance.”

  She allowed his words to sink in. “And what did Cassie think of that?”

  Hands still pressed to the wood, he lifted one shoulder. “She wasn’t too pleased about it. I won’t lie to you.” His gaze was fierce when he looked at her. “We’ve come too far for that.”

  She circled around him, and he leaned back, facing her. “I’m sorry to put this on you,” she told him, “but these are questions that are going to need answers at some point. I don’t know that I can keep going with these uncertainties.”

  “And you shouldn’t have to.” Gideon picked up a pencil and turned it idly. “Let’s see, um, Cassie … I spent most of those months trying not to get too close.”

  “Trying.”

  “Did … did I say that?”

  “You did.” She watched his hands. Hands she knew so well. “Does that mean you didn’t always … succeed?”

  As if lost in thought, he ran his thumb over his mouth. “It means that some instances were better than others.”

  Her heart dipped. “Meaning?”

  He set the pencil down and folded his arms. Still leaning against the workbench, his eyes lifted to the open doorway. She wondered where his thoughts took him.

  “Meaning that no, Lonnie, I didn’t take Cassie as a wife. But there was a time—near the end—when I thought perhaps I ought to. I thought that I should try. That maybe then it would fix what was broken between us.”

  “And did you? Try?”

  He nodded, eyes tight.

  She was going to be sick. Lonnie sank onto a crate. “What made you stop?” Her voice sounded strange to her own ears.

  “Cassie did.” He knelt in front of her. “It didn’t go far. Trust me. Cassie didn’t let it.”

  “But you would have. If she would have let you.”

  This wasn’t happening. She wasn’t here talking to Gideon about this.

  The man who held a place in her life no other did.

  Peering into his eyes, all that had passed between them washed over her. She knew his smile. He knew her shape. She’d loved him in the light. And in the dark. She’d whispered him beloved—yet here he was. Breaking her heart.

  “I’m so sorry, Lonnie.”

  A strip of cloth bound her hair, and she tugged it loose, turning it in her hands. “Thank you for being honest with me.”

  Slowly, he shook his head.

  She sensed he had more to say.

  “It wasn’t as easy to leave her as I thought it would be.” He moved to sit beside Lonnie. “I came to care for her in many ways. She wasn’t the same person anymore. Neither of us were, I suppose. She’d changed in so many ways.”

  Lonnie listened, each word a pinprick to her heart. But she valued his honesty and waited for him to say more.

  When he spoke, his voice was soft. Distant. “She’d been real sick there for a while. Real sick.”

  Something surfaced in Lonnie’s mind. The memory of Reverend Gardner’s words that day in church.

  “Scarlet fever,” Gideon said.

  Lonnie’s fingers stilled.

  “She fought it for days. Had everyone scared out of their wits. Me included.” His eyes found hers. “There was a time, there at the end, that I didn’t know if she was going to make it.” He shifted his feet, his heavy boot brushing softly against hers. “I also knew that I hadn’t done a good job of being her husband. I’d failed at it. Miserably. I kept thinking about how it was too late.”

  The fondness in his voice threaded through her heart, binding it painfully tight.

  He slid his hands together, green eyes so distant that Lonnie could only guess what he saw. Suddenly, he ran a palm down his face as if to wipe away the memories. “She made it through. Cassie’s as tough as nails.”

  “Don’t change the subject, Gide
on.”

  Fingers in his hair, he stood. “I’m sorry, Lonnie.” He stepped back, then turned. “I just …” He blew out a slow breath. “I’m trying to be honest, and I’m not sure how to say this and what to say.”

  Still sitting, she pressed her shoes together and wrapped a hand around her knees, pinching her skirt tight. “There’s no shame in having loved Cassie.”

  He squinted down at her, heartache carved in and through his expression. Did he sense she was trying not to cry?

  “She’s your wife.” Lonnie rose, and before he could speak, she walked from the barn.

  Twenty-Three

  “Toby’s here!” Elsie called from the hallway.

  “Coming!” Lonnie peered at her reflection in the mirror. She fiddled with a loose strand of hair, tucking it into her coiled bun. A glance left and right, and all seemed in place. Leaning closer, she pinched her cheeks and nibbled her lips until they were rosy. In the hallway, Elsie’s face brightened.

  “My, but you look fine, Lonnie.”

  Lonnie turned in a slow circle, then made a show of patting the comb she’d stuck in her bun of curls. “Thank you for the loan.”

  “Consider it yours, my dear. Consider it yours.” Elsie pulled her into a hug. “Enjoy this day and tell me all about it when you get home.”

  “Are you sure you won’t come?”

  Elsie waved away her words. “The children and I are staying right here. You need an afternoon out. Enjoy the festivities and don’t you dare hurry home.”

  Lonnie hugged her again. “Thank you, Elsie.” She turned and, knowing Toby was waiting, all but flew down the stairs and through the kitchen.

  Outside, Toby stood beside Gael, as tall and handsome as ever in his new shirt and dark waistcoat. Lonnie’s eyes skimmed the width of his broad shoulders, remembering his sweet request. Each stitch by candlelight. He nodded softly and seemed to take her in from head to toe. Fighting a blush, Lonnie smiled. She clutched her skirt and glanced up just as Gideon stepped from the barn. His hair was slicked off to one side, still shiny from his bath.

  At the sight of him, she had to remind her feet to carry her down the stairs.

  A black tie draped the back of Gideon’s neck as if he weren’t quite ready to put it on. Even from a distance she could see his face was smooth. Lonnie didn’t realize she was staring until he half grinned. Quickly shaking her head, she hoisted her blue skirt away from the snow and stepped toward the wagon.

  “Och, Lonnie,” Toby said for her ears alone. “If you’re not the bonniest lass I’ve ever seen.”

  She peered up at him. “Why, thank you, Toby. You look mighty fine yourself.”

  Gideon came around the wagon and stood just a ways off. Without hesitation, Toby took her hand, carefully helping her onto the seat. Lonnie glanced back to see Gideon climb over the side, his eyes down.

  “Where’s Jebediah?” Lonnie asked.

  “He decided to stay with Elsie and the children.” Gideon set his mandolin beside him and pulled up one knee.

  “So it’s just us then?” Toby asked.

  “Just us,” she said.

  They rode mostly in silence. Lonnie and Toby chatted here and there, but unease flitted through her at having Gideon so near. She had a hard time maintaining conversation and hated how unfair that was to Toby.

  He guided the wagon onto McGuire land, and in the distance, Lonnie spotted the large barn and dozens of wagons all around. “This is going to be just lovely,” she said.

  “Aye.” Toby slowed Gael beside a team of horses, and the wagon swayed when he climbed down. Gideon hopped out, and Lonnie turned just as Toby reached for her hand.

  “Thank you.” Her foot found the wagon wheel, and she was glad most of the snow had melted, for there was a clear path to walk along. She turned to fetch her shawl from the seat.

  Standing at the side of the wagon, Gideon fiddled with his tie, chin to chest. From what she could see, he was making a mess of things.

  “Do you need help?”

  His large fingers tried again, making the matter worse. “Jebediah lent it to me. My mother or Mae always did this,” he confessed.

  Lonnie moved toward him. “Let me see.”

  Lifting his chin, Gideon dropped his hands. She untangled the knot he’d attempted and slid one side of the tie down. Looping it around itself, she formed the knot carefully. Eyes straight ahead, Gideon stood as if he were a statue. Her thumbs brushed against his neck as she gently lifted the collar of his shirt. His Adam’s apple dipped, and he cleared his throat, stony gaze faltering ever so slightly. Lonnie finished tucking the rest of the tie through. She slid the knot into place and, out of habit, was about to smooth a wrinkle from his shirt when Gideon stepped away and flicked his collar into place.

  “Thanks, Lonnie.” Striding toward the barn, he spoke without glancing back.

  Blinking quickly, Lonnie simply watched him disappear into the crowd. Within moments, Toby was at her side. He brushed his hands together, no doubt having just fed Gael her oats. She didn’t loop her arm through his as she once would have. Oh, if she could just know how to behave around the two of them.

  Side by side they walked into the massive barn. The doors were decorated with evergreen boughs. Jars of daffodils were scattered about. Someone must have bloomed them indoors for the occasion. Lonnie soaked in the cheery sights and sounds. She looked around for Gideon, but he was nowhere in sight. A twinge of disappointment, and she forced a smile up at Toby.

  “Shall we find somewhere to sit?”

  “Aye.” He waved her forward. “After you.”

  Spotting an empty bench near the back, she walked that way. There would be enough room for the three of them and then some. Still not seeing Gideon, she slid her shawl off and set the folded fabric beside her to save his place. Toby chatted to a gray-haired woman at his side. Lonnie did her best to join in the conversation, but as soon as she complimented the woman on her hat, the woman’s smile faded and she suddenly had something to say to the couple behind her.

  Spurned, Lonnie straightened. The cold bench beside her yawned an emptiness that made her feel ill at ease. Toby squeezed her hand a moment, and Lonnie was grateful for his kindness. She heaved in a quick breath, and the ceremony began.

  The bride was beautiful. The groom’s smile so broad that tears pricked her eyes. But all she could think about was the empty seat beside her and the green-eyed man who’d vanished into the crowd. Lonnie looked from side to side as nonchalantly as she could. When Reverend Gardner asked for the rings, she shifted a bit in her seat and glanced behind her.

  Gideon stood against the back wall, half shadowed by the rafters overhead. Arms folded over his chest, he watched the scene with a sober, almost broody expression. His eyes shifted to hers. Heart tripping, Lonnie turned back around. When the crowd burst into applause at the sight of the kissing couple, Lonnie joined in and stood along with the others. A sigh bubbling up inside her, she watched the bride and groom dash back down the aisle, the magic of their night having just begun.

  Settling down on a crate in the center of the stage, Gideon rested his mandolin on his knee. Beside him, the banjo player paused to check the tune of his top string. The off note sweetened, and he nodded an approval to himself. “Ready, boys?”

  “What’s the tempo?” Gideon pressed his mandolin to his chest, the feeling of it the only thing that made sense this night.

  “Six-eight.” The man adjusted the strap of his banjo. “Can you swing on the back of the beat?”

  Gideon nodded. That he could do.

  “All right then. Let’s start this thing.”

  As if the floodgates had burst open, the spirited banjo twanged. Feet stomped and hands clapped, and anyone who wasn’t keeping time was hurrying for a partner.

  Gideon watched Toby walk toward Lonnie. His intentions clear. He dodged around a chatting circle, nearly to her. Gideon frowned. But then a tall, lanky man stepped in front of Lonnie. Senses heightened, Gideon watched clos
ely. He couldn’t see Lonnie, but a moment later, the man led her toward the dance crowd. Toby halted and folded his hands behind his back.

  Nearly laughing, Gideon tried to focus his attention on the song. He strummed quickly, enjoying this moment. Enjoying the feel of the mandolin vibrating against his chest. Enjoying the fact that there Toby stood. Empty handed. Gideon grinned to himself and bobbed his head in time with the music. The banjo twanged, and he picked the sweetest notes, tangling them together in a way that lifted the corner of his mouth. They played for several minutes, then in a quick rush of strumming, the song raced to a halt.

  The cheer of the crowd was deafening. Gideon glanced down to see a bloom in Lonnie’s cheeks as the man leaned toward her and whispered something. She nodded, and with a laugh, the man tipped his hat and was on his way, no doubt in search of his next partner.

  Good. Gideon was liking this night after all.

  Then the band slowed, a one-two-three that Gideon knew well. The slow waltz drew a different crowd. Sweethearts. Lovers. Gideon stared at Toby, daring him to even move one foot toward Lonnie. But it was she who stepped toward him. Her dark hair caught the lantern light as she peered up at him and spoke. A curl fell loose, taunting Gideon’s fingers. Toby smiled and followed Lonnie out onto the dance floor. Gideon swallowed a curse.

  He plucked the strings of his mandolin. For no reason other than that he was supposed to. Toby turned Lonnie around, slowly, his hand pressed to the small of her back in such a way that Gideon nearly fumbled the chords. Get ahold of yourself, man. He focused on the tempo. Tapping his foot slowly, he played the high notes of the waltz as the fiddle teased out a melody that was filled with yearning. Here he was, setting their feet in motion. Gideon clenched his jaw and kept his eyes on the space between his boots.

  When it ended, the crowed clapped politely. He played along for several more songs and was glad when the rest of the musicians stopped for a break. Murmurs ensued when they set aside their instruments. Gideon leaned his mandolin against the crate and rubbed his hands on the tops of his thighs. Toby led Lonnie toward a refreshment table.