Forty-Eight
Gideon held the nail steady. The steel was cold between his stiff fingers, and with two quick blows, he pounded it into the post. “See? That’s how you do it.”
The sun glinted in warm patches on Jacob’s hair, and Gideon tousled the boy’s curls. Leaning against a post, Jacob sat with the can of nails between his legs. He pulled out another one.
“Thank you.” Gideon pounded it into place, then sank back on his heels. He wiggled the mended post, pleased that it did not sway. “Do you want to help me fix another one?”
Jacob held out a handful of nails.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” After grabbing the can and his hammer, Gideon used his free arm to hold his son to his chest. They strode to a shaded patch where the sun was yet to melt the last traces of snow. He set Jacob on a flat rock. Kneeling, his arm brushed Jacob’s knee, and Gideon shifted the post deeper into the ground. He felt a small hand on his shoulder.
It took only a few minutes to finish the fence. “Now I need to go check on Gael, and I’d love for you to be my helper.”
Jacob blinked large green eyes up at him.
“But something tells me that your ma will have wanted you to go down for a nap.” He hoisted his son off the rock. “But when you wake up, we’ll spend the evening together.” He kissed Jacob’s cheek, suddenly overwhelmed by all that could transpire.
He thought of Lonnie, speaking to Toby. Almost this very moment. Gideon closed his eyes, content to simply stand and hold his son. Both desperate for this hour to end and desperate to dig deeper into that well that only God could fill. To find peace. No matter what happened.
With slow steps, Lonnie climbed the stairs to the porch of Toby’s shanty. She smoothed the collar of her best dress, then pressed a hand to her stomach. The pearl-like buttons grazed her palm, unease flitting about beneath them. It didn’t matter what she looked like. It just hadn’t felt right coming here in her work dress and stained apron. Not for what she was about to say and all that had passed between them. Fingers tingling, Lonnie knocked. She forced herself to take several slow, steady breaths.
It was no use, for when Toby called her in, she struggled to turn the knob. The hour she’d had to prepare her words suddenly felt inadequate. Lonnie opened the door, just enough to peek inside, and seeing that he was in bed, she hesitated. He wore a shirt, but the top buttons were undone, the cuffs hanging loosely around his thick wrists.
“Dinna worry, lass. Half the ladies from the church have already vis’ted today. Your coming in would hardly be a scandal.”
She stepped in and closed the door. “How are you feeling?”
“I think I’ll mend.” His voice was stronger. He motioned to a chair beside his bed. “I’m glad you’re here. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
Tucking her skirts beneath her, Lonnie perched on the edge of the hard chair.
Lowering his head, Toby fiddled with a thread in the quilt. His eyes worked back and forth as if the words he searched for were written there. The words she’d rehearsed scattered as fireflies. When his shoulders rose and fell in a sigh, her heart broke afresh.
Toby.
“Yer the only woman to come today without soup or bread in hand.” His Scots thickened, and she sensed his distress. “Ye haven’t come to fluff me pillow, lass, or tidy up the place.” He looked at her. “Ye’ve come for a verra different reason, haven’t ye?”
She took his hand and bent forward. Her lips pressed to his rough, warm skin, and she closed her eyes. Releasing him, she looked up to see that the expression in his handsome face was one of torment.
Lonnie clutched her trembling fingers in her lap. “Are you managing all right?”
“I am.” He squared his shoulders, but his eyes were sad.
A warm fire crackled in the hearth, and she slid off her shawl. The wind shifted, bringing with it the smell of smoke from the chimney. Toby rested his hand atop his abdomen. He stared past her for several moments. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and Lonnie noticed that his jaw was freshly shaven. Smooth.
He glanced at her. “It’s so good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you too.” Her eyes stung.
“Dinna cry, Lonnie.”
She realized a tear was sliding down her cheek. She quickly brushed it away.
His eyes roamed her face. Moistening his lips, he reached for her hand. Lonnie let him take it.
“I dinna want you to be sad.” His thumb turned a circle on her wrist. “Let me make this easy on you.” He held her hand with such tenderness, another tear slipped, and she quickly wiped it away.
Toby drew in a slow breath. “I’m leaving.” He loosened his grip. “I’ve spoken with Reverend Gardner, and there’s a position available at another church. I intend to take it.”
“You are?”
“Yes.” His face was agonized. “I have to leave, Lonnie.” He swallowed. “This isna my place. Not anymore.”
She wanted to argue with him, but that would be so unfair. How could she expect him to be here—as her friend and no more?
“I’ll miss you terribly.”
He struggled to sit up farther, and Lonnie hurried to help him.
“I got it,” he said, his voice strained.
When his pillow slid down, she raised it back up. The muscles worked in his back. He let out a quick breath, and she could only guess the kind of pain he was in. “Sit down, Lonnie.” Distress hung thick in his voice, his words so intense, she did as he pleaded.
He took a few measured breaths before speaking. “You’ll stay where you are, lass.”
She nodded, the words slipping to her tongue. “I’m going to miss you.”
“And I’ll miss you. More than I ought to say. But I know that you will be happy.” He looked at her. “This is for the best.” Hair damp, he pushed it back. “I can see that you love him, and I’m glad.”
Her fingertips brushed his sleeve. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Then simply say that you love him.”
Fists pressed to her knees, she couldn’t look away from his face. “I do.” She studied all that lived in his eyes—a fire, dying. “And I love you too. I want you to know that. It was very real for me.”
A soft smile surfaced. “Then I willna feel too bad.” Finally, he glanced around at the walls of his shanty. “God makes all things new.” The distance in his voice drew nearer. Bolder. “Even what may seem impossible.”
A new tear threatened to fall.
“I should have stepped away long ago. But I was just too selfish to let you go.”
No. Her chin trembled. There was nothing selfish about Toby McKee.
His eyes were large and wide as he studied her. Staring back at him, she remembered his face the day he’d knelt near the woodpile, asking for her hand. The joy—mixed with fear—she had seen there.
“Dinna be sad.” He covered her hand in his as if they were the best of friends. How she wished some things didn’t have to change. But if she truly loved Toby, she would let him go. His voice was urgent. “Jacob has his father. And you … you need Gideon. I know it to be true. I’ve always known it. I just hoped …” His eyes glistened. “There is a part of me that always hoped I might win your heart. But it was never mine to win.”
Oh, Toby.
“So I just prayed.” He let out an exhausted laugh, and dimples dented his cheeks, making her heart soar. “I can’t tell you how many times my prayers contradicted themselves.”
Lonnie searched his face.
“Some days I prayed it would be me. Other times I prayed that Gideon would find what he was looking for. That he would find peace.” He glanced at her, mischief in his eyes. “At times, I wanted to pray him right off a cliff.”
Tears gave way to laughter and she sniffed.
Toby chuckled and pressed a hand to his side. When he pulled his hand away, his shirt was spotted in red.
“You’re bleeding!”
He half smiled. “Dinna worry. It comes a
nd goes.”
“And your bandage?”
“Mrs. Krause will be here in a little while to change it. She’s been coming by twice a day.”
“Is there anything I can do?” Lonnie glanced around and, spotting a basket of bandages, rose. “I can change your bandage.”
“No.” His voice was so urgent, she froze. “Thank you, but I’d prefer to wait for Mrs. Krause.” His eyes on her held desperation. “Please, Lonnie.”
He was letting her go. Trying to, at least, as she had been doing with him. A bittersweetness. Lonnie sat back in her chair, determined not to make it any harder.
“I’ll mend.” Sweat glistened along his temples.
“May I open the window for you?”
Another dimple appeared. “Aye. The window would be perfectly harmless.”
She smiled when he did. Across the room, it took her a moment to shimmy the glass up, and when she did, the cool air stirred his shirt. His eyes slid closed, chest rising and falling in a slow sigh.
“Is that helping?”
His throat worked. “Aye. Better. Thank you.”
She prayed it would be so. She prayed God would mend him completely. Heal him of all his wounds. With his eyes closed so, she thought perhaps he might drift off. Ever so gently, Lonnie straightened his blankets. She brushed a lock of his damp hair away from his forehead.
“I’m not asleep, Lonnie.”
She snapped her hand back, and his face bloomed into a smile. His dark lashes fluttered open, but she could see that he was more tired than he let on. “I should have asked you, how is Gael? I was told Jebediah put her up in the barn. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Gideon’s been taking care of her.”
“Gideon?”
She nodded softly. “He’s taken real good care of her. He wants you to know he’ll bring her by whenever you’re ready.”
Toby’s eyes shifted to the window. “Have him bring her today, if he doesn’t mind.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m leaving t’morrow. As long as Gael doesn’t mind being pulled behind a wagon.”
“Oh, Toby—”
He gave her a look that silenced her.
“You’re in pain.” It wasn’t a question.
“I’ll be fine. Really.” He waited for her to nod, as if needing to know she believed him. “On all accounts.” He motioned for her to sit back down. “God has a plan for your life and for mine. I’m not afraid of what the future holds. I do hate that it doesn’t include you. But … it will give me something to work on.”
Her chest burned.
Toby’s eyes sparkled. “I’ll find myself a wife someday.”
Lonnie sniffed, tears stinging the back of her throat. “You will.”
His dimples deepened. “A woman who has absolutely no idea who Gideon O’Riley is.”
Pressing her cheek to her shoulder, Lonnie smiled. A bittersweet joy.
Toby chuckled. “And one who wants a houseful o’ kids and makes stovies and Tantallon cakes.”
Despite herself, she laughed. “I have no idea what that is.”
“See?” Reaching out, his thumb brushed against her chin. “That should have tipped me off from the start.” Dark eyes warm, he pulled his hand away.
“Easy, girl.” Gideon caught hold of Gael’s halter and led her from the barn. Lonnie had come home not an hour ago, asking him to bring Gael around to Toby’s house. It was the least he could do. The very least. He’d spent the last hour brushing the mare’s coat until it shone, and now she stepped lightly into the sunshine as if eager to see her master.
Gideon clicked his tongue, and with Gael’s lead rope in hand, they settled into an easy walk toward Toby’s place. The ground underfoot was soft and damp, the trees dark with moisture. The air hung heavy with the scent of the forest after a rain. Gideon loosened his grip on Gael’s rope. She would head home whether he led her or not. Some things just happened.
Like the way he’d found his way back to Lonnie. Never had he fully believed that his path—so tangled and thorny—would eventually bring him to her. He didn’t deserve God’s grace, yet still, he felt it spilling about him like sunshine. Gideon shook his head. He knew he could never repay the depth of this gift, but he was determined to spend the rest of his life showing his thanks.
The trail narrowed, and Gideon brushed against a spruce branch, the needles bright with new growth. Gael plodded along behind him as if this was the only place in the world she wanted to be. Going home. They walked through sun. Shadow. And before Gideon knew it, he was stepping into the small clearing that held Toby’s shanty. He wondered if he should make his presence known or see that Gael was put away first. He opted to lead her toward the corral that filled most of the clearing. When she was settled, head bowed to the young grass, Gideon strode up to the shanty. He knocked gently, then knowing the reverend would be slow moving about, called through the door.
“It’s Gideon. I’ve brought Gael back.” He listened. Waiting.
The door opened and Toby stood—not quite as tall as usual. One hand was pressed to his side, and he seemed to favor it.
“You shouldn’t be up,” Gideon said.
“I’ve had three different women tell me that today. Don’t you start as well.”
“Fair enough.”
“Come on in.” Toby moved to a chair beside the fireplace and slowly lowered himself. His face was a mask, but Gideon could tell he was in pain. Of more than one kind.
Dressed in pants and an unbuttoned shirt, Toby slowly leaned back and kicked one leg out. His entire abdomen was wrapped in rows of white bandages. He looked up at Gideon, a resolve deep in his eyes. Gideon searched for words.
“I vis’ted with Lonnie earlier.” He motioned for Gideon to sit at the small table. “I suppose she spoke with you.”
Gideon sat. “She did. Said you were leaving tomorrow. I brought Gael.” He motioned with his thumb out the door.
“That was good of you. Thank you for looking after her. Thank you for finding her.”
Gideon lowered his head in a single nod.
“Would you like some coffee?” Toby stared out the window as he spoke.
“Thank you, no. Can I get you some? Anything?”
“I’m fine, thanks.”
They sat without speaking. Hands clasped together, Gideon leaned forward and worked slow circles with his thumbs.
Finally, Toby spoke. “Take care of her?”
“I will.” Gideon looked up at him. “I will.”
“And Jacob. Addie.” His eyes flooded with moisture.
Throat tight, Gideon coughed into his fist. “I will.” The words were hard to form, but the promise ran deep. Mighty deep.
Toby nodded slowly, his gaze out the window. A coming sunset warmed the trees on the horizon.
“You’re a good man, Gideon.”
Gideon knew how dearly the words cost him. He didn’t deserve this kindness. Not after all Toby was losing. Not after all Gideon had done to him. “I’m sorry.” It was all he could say.
“Me too.” Toby pressed a hand to his side and shifted in his seat. A single wince and he masked over the rest. “But that doesn’t mean this isna the right thing.”
Shifting his feet, Gideon looked at the reverend. “And where will you go?”
Toby spoke without looking at him. “There’s a church up in Roanoke that could use my help. I’ll head there t’morrow.”
“A fresh start?”
“A fresh start.” Toby mumbled something about the authorities following a lead … and not wanting to stick around for it. He shifted again. Face twisting for the briefest of moments, he let out a quick sigh. His neck was glistening when he settled. “It’s for the best. I’m ready to begin again.” Toby’s eyes roamed the small room, finally landing on Gideon. “I won’t lie. This is going to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
His throat tight, Gideon could only nod. He wanted to say he was sorry again, but the words were so inadequate
. If he hadn’t come home, Lonnie would no doubt have been Toby’s bride by now. A flood of emotions hit him. Glancing through the window, he saw an older woman coming toward the shanty, a basket on her arm.
“Looks like Mrs. Krause is here.”
“She’s come to help me pack the last of my things. I’ll head off in the morning, doctor’s orders. He arranged for his son-in-law to drive me.”
Gideon stood. “I won’t stay in your way.” He looked down on Toby. “Roanoke. That’s quite a change.”
“There’s a hospital there that might come in handy.” He stared into the fire. “Maybe convalescing won’t be so bad after all.”
Gideon couldn’t help but smile. “Watch out for those nurses. There’s one in particular who can be a handful.”
Looking back at him, Toby’s eyes brightened at the challenge. “I’ll be on the lookout.”
Mrs. Krause called out.
Gideon slid his hat on and stepped toward the door. “I better be off.” Then just as quickly, he moved back to where Toby stood and extended a hand. “Thank you. For more than I can say.” They shook hands, their grip nothing like the first time they’d met.
“So you’re not going to try and break my hand this time,” Toby said.
“Trying to change my ways.”
Toby smiled thoughtfully. Mrs. Krause knocked before entering. The sun was sinking. The light dimmed. A quick greeting to the neighbor woman, and Gideon stepped back. Expanding his chest, Toby lifted a hand in farewell.
Gideon backed away and, turning, strode from the shanty. From the clearing.
From one of the few real friends he’d ever had.
Toward the only home he ever wanted. He tried to focus on the path ahead of him. And prayed he’d always remember the path that had led him here.
Forty-Nine
My Hope Is Found Page 28