Gideon nodded toward the food. “We better eat”—he watched as his ma brought the frying pan to the table and set it in front of her lanky sons—“before those two hogs get it all.”
“Well, that oughta hold it for now.” Mae fiddled with the loose end of Gideon’s bandage. “Just don’t go and do something as foolish as that next time.”
“I’ll try.”
Gideon sat at the end of the bench and speared himself a piece of fried rabbit. He thought of another supper taking place on the other side of the hill. He rubbed his sore wrist as his ma spooned grits onto the plate in front of him.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, then took a hearty bite. He was too worn out to worry about anything else for the night.
Six
Droplets fell here and there, striking the muslin shawl on Lonnie’s shoulders. She wanted to pull it tighter, but it would have been no use. If only she had her coat. But brides didn’t wear coats. Or so her ma had mumbled as she had knotted the white fabric gently, her eyes awash with unshed tears.
The gray light dimmed, the landscape no more than a blur of fog and mist. Lonnie held tight to Addie’s hand as they made their way down the path. With baby Charlotte swaddled in a threadbare quilt, her ma and pa strode a holler ahead. Dressed in matching white shirts, Sid and Oliver trailed behind, their black ties slightly askew.
Lonnie stepped carefully in her polished boots. Clasping her gingham skirt, she held it away from the mud. She remembered her ma the day before—on her knees, pins stuck between her lips as she hurriedly lowered the sky-blue hem of Lonnie’s best dress. Lonnie stepped over a rock and skirted a small puddle. She’d walked this path every Sunday of her life. If only today weren’t so different.
Sure it’s worth the effort, Maggie? Her pa’s words stung as much today as they had only hours ago. He’d circled her, his boots hollow and menacing on the wood floor as he eyed her. Lonnie had also studied him, the air thick and silent between them. She waited for some flicker of emotion to show that his soul wasn’t as black as his burnished boots. Recalling the rumors that surrounded his past, she searched his face for a fragment of the truth. She held his gaze until he finally gave up and walked away. A surge of satisfaction had warmed her belly. She was almost out from under his grip.
Lonnie clutched the hem of her dress in one hand and held Addie’s small fingers in the other. She tried to focus on the path in front of her. Lord, be my strength. The day ahead seemed impossible, the months and years even more so.
Heads lifted and eyes probed as her family stepped into the churchyard. Familiar faces turned.
“Folk in these parts never miss a wedding,” her pa mumbled under his breath. He smoothed his hand across a freshly shaven jaw. “They could care less who was gettin’ hitched, long as they get a free meal and a drink of whiskey.”
Her eyes roved the churchyard that would have held tables and a spot for dancing had the wedding been planned. Wanted. With a flick of his head, her pa led the family closer to the church. He smoothed the damp strings of his hair, streaked with silver and still wet from a bath, and tucked them behind his ears.
A few familiar faces smiled and offered a friendly wave. Yet others, their mouths covered and eyes averted, whispered among themselves.
Her pa glanced over his shoulder and smirked.
Lonnie tilted up her chin. A few more hours and she would no longer be his. If it took a wedding to sever his hold on her, so be it. He glanced away from her pointed look and hooked a thumb into his belt. His grip on her was fading. Her freedom was so close.
No. It was slipping away. Lonnie glanced around for signs of Gideon.
Her ma straightened Addie’s bonnet. “Doesn’t look like Gideon’s family is here yet …” Her voice trailed off.
Lonnie surveyed the faces, seeing no sign of the O’Rileys. Hope tickled her senses. Might he not show? She knew how his ma disliked her family. Had the woman poisoned Gideon’s mind against her? Hope budded inside her. If Gideon had indeed changed his mind, she would be free. The whispers continued. Some took no care to hide their heated opinions. Ignoring them, Lonnie flicked a piece of lint from her dress. If Gideon changed his mind, she would not become his wife today—but with her tainted reputation, she may never be anyone’s wife. Lonnie tipped her chin. That was just fine with her. She could live with Aunt Sarah, and they could spend their days on the porch making soap and laughing about the bright future ahead. Lonnie nearly smiled until her pa’s sour voice brought her from her thoughts. “I’d like to see that boy try and skip on outa here.” His jaw flexed.
“Would he do that?” Oliver stepped forward, tightening the circle. His slicked-back hair made him seem years older.
“I certainly hope not.” Her ma folded her arms and cast a worrisome glance in the direction of the O’Riley home.
Tiny raindrops fell, but not enough to drive them indoors. Her lanky brothers stood on each side of her, and Lonnie felt out of place in the freshly pressed gown and boots that shone.
Voices fell quiet. Conversations clipped to an end.
Tall, slender men walked silently into the churchyard. Mr. O’Riley led the way, flanked by his sons Charlie and John. Lonnie released Addie’s small fist and pressed her hands together to keep them from shaking. Gideon’s head bobbed behind his brothers’, his face grave. They slowed their pace until the oldest O’Riley sons walked side by side. Each of them was the same height, a head taller than most men in town. But Gideon stood out as being broader than his younger brothers.
His hair was shorter, slicked back, and mostly straight until it reached the nape of his neck, where it curled around his ears. He looked like a soldier surrounded by his fellow men. Lonnie glanced up at the sky, wishing to see the face of the only One who loved her this day. God, are You there?
“Lonnie!”
Turning, she spotted her aunt Sarah hurrying toward them. She wore her usual ginger bun and her best dress. A delicate lace shawl draped over her soft shoulders, and the black fringe danced against her arms as she nearly ran. She reached for Lonnie’s hand. Her skin was ice cold.
Sarah’s eyes glistened as she searched Lonnie’s. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
Lonnie couldn’t speak, so tight was her throat.
Her aunt’s grip tightened, knuckles white. “Know that I love you. Know that.” Her fervent whispers were spoken for Lonnie’s ears alone. “And God loves you. His eye is on the sparrow.” She pressed Lonnie’s hand to her lips as a single tear slipped down her cheek. “Oh, my sweet girl. His eye is on you this day.”
Lonnie nodded eagerly, clinging to the hope her aunt offered even as Sarah lowered her hand. Sniffing, her aunt looked up, and a shadow crossed her face.
“Good day, Bill,” Lonnie’s pa said, his words as crisp as the autumn morning.
“Fine day for a wedding.” Bill’s cheerful tone was a sharp contrast to Joel’s sour mood. “Lonnie.” He nodded in admiration. “You look right pretty.”
She couldn’t make a smile form.
Her ma adjusted baby Charlotte in the crook of her arm and pulled Addie along. She called the rest of the children, leaving Lonnie outside with her pa. Lonnie watched as Gideon’s family passed and climbed the church steps. She didn’t bother smiling. It would have only come out as empty as she felt.
Each of them glanced at her. All except Ruth. Lonnie’s heart thudded against her chest in slow, heavy beats. Gideon’s sister Mae squeezed his hand and started up the steps, leaving Gideon lingering outside.
She leaned toward Lonnie. “I’m looking forward to being sisters,” she whispered. Her short lashes framed a pair of honest eyes.
Unable to speak, Lonnie simply nodded, and Mae disappeared into the packed building. When Gideon passed by without so much as a glance in her direction, Lonnie gazed at the sky and clung to her aunt’s words.
It felt strange hanging on to her pa’s arm as they made their way to the front of the church. Every face turned toward her. While some smiled, othe
rs frowned, wrinkles draping their angry pouts. Lonnie was grateful she could not hear their thoughts.
With her arm over her pa’s, she forced her feet forward. Still, she could not match his pace, and her pa gave her a little tug. Lonnie turned to see her ma’s smiling face and tear-stained cheeks.
Then her pa halted.
Lonnie looked into his eyes as he released her arm from his. He met her gaze and blinked quickly, his eyes wider than she’d ever seen. Was that regret she saw?
But just as quick, the brown depths hardened and he looked away. His stone face revealed nothing.
Her body seemed to move of its own accord as Lonnie slid her arm from his. Rain pattered on the roof, muting the thundering of her heart. So this was what her pa felt like all the time. Soon to be trapped in a loveless marriage, she feared that bitterness would take hold of her as well.
When her pa turned his back, nothing separated her from Gideon’s outstretched hand. She stared at her pa’s shoulder, silently willing him to turn around. Whisk her away. But he sat, pressed his spine against the pew, and took her ma’s hand in his. His eyes never lifted from the floor.
Cold fingers grazed hers, and Lonnie turned, fighting the urge to pull away. Stale air pressed against her lungs. She scarcely heard the preacher begin. Gideon’s grip was gentle, and Lonnie felt the soft brush of cotton from a thin strip of cloth wrapped around his knuckles. She studied their hands, finally glancing up at his face. He simply stared at the preacher, and as if he felt her watching him, a muscle flexed in his jaw.
When the time came, she repeated the vows she was told to say. She shifted her feet, which refused to stand still, and heaved in a shaky breath.
A man coughed.
A woman quieted a fussy baby.
Hot chills climbed her spine and spread up into her cheeks. She could hear them. Hear the lies and the rumors in her head. Lonnie knew every eye bored into her back, and she heard their thoughts.
She’s lucky that boy’s marrying her now.
She tried to shake away the lies. She had heard them spoken too many times in her mind over the last two days. God knew the truth, and it was all that mattered. Lonnie straightened and tilted her gaze to the window. The preacher droned on.
Lord, is this what You expect of me? No reply came. Slowly, she blinked up at the gray light. Had He forsaken her?
She lifted her eyes to the ceiling and tried to keep the tears from finding their way past her lashes. She was drowning. In the middle of a crowded room, she was sinking, and no one would stand up and save her. Not her pa. Not her ma. Lowering her head, Lonnie stared at the broad hand wrapped around hers, the fingers and lines unfamiliar.
The preacher cleared his throat. “Do you have rings?”
Lonnie withdrew a handkerchief from the lace at her sleeve. Inside lay her grandfather’s ring. A keepsake she’d had since she was a girl. And she was about to give it to Gideon O’Riley, with his greedy hands and heart. She turned to her groom. A pain started low in her gut as she held out the treasured token.
Gideon thrust his hand into his pants pocket, and his cheeks flushed as he switched to the other. A pair of earnest eyes met hers. The crowd chuckled. Lonnie watched as his ears tinted red.
“Here,” he said, finally retrieving a small tin circle.
Lonnie studied the lines of his face. His hair was tidy and his jaw cleanly shaven. He hardly looked like the same man. His lips creased, matching the pensive brow that furrowed in concentration as he slid the thin ring over her fingertip. Lonnie found his eyes. They were focused on her. But his face held no joy. She moistened her lips as the cool band settled into place.
The reverend was closing the ceremony, and not caring if it was proper, Lonnie scanned the crowd until she spotted her aunt. She swallowed the lump that threatened to choke her. Sarah nodded once. The slow motion was a reminder of the words she had spoken outside. Lonnie’s vision blurred, and when tears fell she no longer cared what others thought. No one had saved her. Her ma, her pa—they were all silent. They had abandoned her. She looked at Gideon.
The preacher spoke, his words final. Lonnie’s heart threatened to break in two. She and Gideon were bound together.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss yer bride.”
Her breath quickened as Gideon swallowed visibly. With a motion perfected by experience, he leaned in and kissed her. The act was so swift it sent a few chuckles through the pews. When the clapping began, Lonnie wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead.
Suddenly, she felt Gideon’s mouth near her ear. “Let’s go outside,” he murmured. She weaved through the milling crowd. Gideon’s hand gripped her elbow, helping her forward.
The clouds had parted, and the sun was bright and warm. Lonnie glanced around the churchyard decorated only with dried summer grasses and early autumn leaves. She’d always imagined her wedding would have peach cobbler and plenty of waltzes. Her friends would have toasted to the happy couple, and she would want this day to last as long as possible. She would have danced into the night with her new husband, until the stars lighted their path home. But when Gideon’s shoulder brushed against hers, she knew that dream was gone.
Seven
Her pack swung back and forth, plump with most everything she needed—all except comfort and a bit of courage. Those she stored in the depths of her heart, placed there by the One who would hear her prayers. Lonnie followed Gideon up the path to the unfamiliar cabin and clung to that fragile reminder, hoping it would be enough to get her through.
Gideon glanced over his shoulder, his gaze dropping to the sack in her hand. It was the third time he’d looked back on the walk home. Finally, he slowed, letting her catch up. “I can carry that for you.”
“I’m all right,” Lonnie said, though the sack was heavy.
When she stumbled on her hem, his hand caught hold of her elbow, and just as quickly, he released her. She hoisted the hem away from the mud and let out a frustrated breath. She’d just have to scrub it out later.
“We’re almost home,” he said.
Home. Lonnie slowed. “To your pa’s cabin,” she blurted out.
“For the time being.”
What did it matter? Wherever she lived, it would be away from her ma and her beloved brothers and sisters. Would she see them often? Lonnie gripped her sack tighter. She doubted her family would be very welcome in the O’Riley home.
Like her own home, the cabin was tucked into the hillside. Charlie and John stood on the porch, leaning casually against the railing, smug grins lighting their faces. They’d beaten the wedding couple home. With so many guests offering warm wishes in the churchyard, Lonnie and Gideon had been among the last to leave.
Charlie and John disappeared inside the house, and voices drifted out, rising and falling with excitement. Gideon caught hold of the front door and held it for Lonnie. She froze in the doorway, his shoulder bumping hers. The room fell silent, and she glanced around at half a dozen faces that were all staring at her.
Gideon spoke first, his voice flat. “Y’all know Lonnie. Lonnie, this is Billie and Sadie.” He pointed to a pair of children sitting side by side in an oversize rocker. “They’re the little’ns.” He motioned with his thumb toward the young woman at the stove. “You know Mae.”
Mae flashed a warm smile as she moved a pot of coffee to the table.
“And you know my brothers John and Charlie.”
The O’Riley boys smirked.
“It’s nice to see you all again,” Lonnie forced.
When Gideon stepped around her, she suddenly felt cold. “You know my pa and ma. And that’s little Sue.” He spoke without looking at Lonnie.
Ruth smiled weakly and bounced the baby in her arms. When she didn’t say anything, Bill spoke up. “It’s a right mighty pleasure to have you with us, Lonnie.”
Lonnie shifted her feet.
“Bet you two are hungry.” Bill looked at his wife, who handed the baby to him.
“I’ll get
supper together right away.” Ruth moved to the stove, muddy hems swaying.
Before turning back to the stove, Mae offered Lonnie another smile.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Lonnie asked weakly, rubbing her palms together.
Ruth let out a single, harsh laugh. “What are you plannin’ on doing in that dress of yours? Get bacon grease all over it?”
Lonnie’s breath caught. She looked to Gideon in time to see him take a slow breath. Mae pursed her lips. Ruth puffed her chest and glanced away.
“Well,” Lonnie stammered. “I just thought I would make myself useful.”
“You can put your things in here.” Mae spoke up, her voice tender. She stepped toward a door and waved for Lonnie to follow. “I put hot water in the washbasin when I got home.” The door creaked as she pulled it nearly closed. “It might be cold now, but—”
“It’s perfect.” Lonnie yanked her striped apron from the rough sack and did her best to shake out the wrinkles. The worn-out fabric felt good as she secured it around her waist.
Mae cracked the door just far enough to squeeze through, then closed it behind her. In no hurry to leave the solitary room, Lonnie removed the shawl from her shoulders. She folded it gently before setting it on a chair.
Her wedding ring glinted. Lonnie turned the ring around on her finger. She held it up to the window, studying it in the dusky light of evening. It was only made of tin, but it was pretty all the same.
The air was warmer when she stepped from the bedroom and accepted the stack of plates Mae handed her. The littlest children watched in silence as Lonnie set the table around their poky elbows and curious stares.
Lonnie saw little of Ruth other than her slumped shoulders and wrinkled mouth pasted in a frown, but Mae was always quick to answer Lonnie’s questions and even offered her a cup of tea from the steaming kettle on the back of the stove. When Ruth called everyone to the table, Lonnie sat beside Gideon, his arm pressed to hers on the crowded bench. She wanted to slide away, but with the youngest children on her other side, she was smashed into place.
Be Still My Soul Page 5