Be Still My Soul

by Joanne Bischof

  He released her hand. Her skin cooled instantly. Lonnie breathed in the early morning air, filling herself with hope.

  They walked in silence. With the sun rising through the trees, Lonnie had no trouble seeing the trail. She stole around rocks and stepped nimbly over gnarled roots. The sound of their shoes crunching on dry leaves broke the stillness of the sleeping forest.

  “Are you sure we’re headed in the right direction?” Having lived along the Blue Ridge her whole life, she could find her way just about anywhere, but this was a new direction. She had never headed south, not with the intention of walking all the way to Stuart.

  Gideon dropped his pack. With a few long strides, he bounded to the top of a low boulder. He scanned the land. “I think that’s the Shaws’ place. So we’re heading in the right direction.” He spoke as if she weren’t there. He jumped to the ground, and his gun caught a glint of sunlight across the barrel.

  “How you doing?” he asked, his eyes focused on the trail. Anywhere but on her, it seemed.

  “Oh, I’m all right. Just a little tired.”

  He walked on as if she hadn’t spoken. Lonnie blinked up at the morning light, suddenly feeling very small. Did God still see her? A strange sensation came over her as they walked away from Rocky Knob. They passed by the Shaw cabin, and Lonnie smelled a hot breakfast. She wanted her ma. She wanted to say good-bye. She wanted to hold Addie. Tears stung the backs of her eyes.

  His eye is on the sparrow.

  The promise brought a glimmer of peace, but not enough to keep her chin from trembling. Her feet froze on the path.

  Gideon turned, his mandolin thumping against his back. “What’s the matter?”

  Lonnie touched shaky fingertips to her throat that was so tight a single word could not slip through. She wanted to cry.

  “Nothing.” She swallowed. “I just had to catch my breath for a second.”

  “We better be movin’ or the day’ll waste away.”

  When he turned, Lonnie hurried to catch up. Glancing toward the valley below, she found herself bewitched by the endless shadows as a thick layer of clouds retreated. It opened and rays of light touched the hills. Black land lit into a smoky gray. Trees came alive, their leaf-laced branches entwining with mists of fog that tucked itself into every nook and hollow. She spotted familiar farms and knew that just over that crest was her family’s home. She drew in a chestful of cool air. A smile tipped her lips. She could almost hear Addie’s laughter bouncing off the walls. Sid and Oliver would wrestle their way out of the lean-to, their hair askew. Lonnie’s smile faded. Her pa would come out of his bedroom and shush them all. He always ate his breakfast in silence. Best way to work off his drinking headaches. Lonnie pulled her gaze away and suddenly wondered what the future held.

  The fog circled around shallow peaks that lay before them, like a warm breath from heaven. Closing her eyes, Lonnie enjoyed the sun’s warmth on her face. Felt the Lord’s promise burn afresh in her heart.

  Perhaps she could have a joyful life.

  But when Gideon called her name, she opened her eyes and the peace that had surrounded her floated away on the breeze.

  Twelve

  A warbler jibber-jabbered from overhead, sending an echo of life through the sleeping forest. Knees digging into the soft dirt, Gideon tied up the tattered bedroll. His neck was stiff and his back ached. All night long, unease gnawed at him and his ears perked to every creak and moan of the forest. He’d spent many a night sleeping beneath the trees. Gideon glanced at Lonnie, who seemed so small in the vast forest. With all his possessions by his side, an unsettled feeling pressed in on him. Gideon yanked the strap tight around the bedroll until the fabric puckered in surrender.

  Lonnie worked beside him, folding the blanket. Finished, she threw back the flap of her pack and pulled out two stale biscuits wrapped in a square of cloth. Without speaking, she handed him one. He felt her watching him and, wanting to move on, shoved the biscuit into his mouth, not caring for manners. It was dry and difficult to chew—nothing a strong cup of coffee wouldn’t cure. If, of course, he had packed any. He cleared his throat and reached for the jug of water. He took a few gulps and heard her speak. He swiped his hand over his mouth. “Did you say somethin’?”

  She pursed her lips the way his ma did when his pa didn’t listen. “I asked you how long it will take to get to Stuart.”

  “ ’Bout a week, I s’pose.” He handed her the water.

  She sipped, and he found himself watching her. He’d never admit it to her, but he’d always thought her pretty enough. But now, with the morning light glinting off her braid, he found himself unable to glance away. A pale row of freckles passed from one cheek to the other, dusting her nose in the process, and her eyes, a rich shade of brown, were too big for her face.

  She glanced at him, and Gideon cleared his throat before turning. He ran a hand over the back of his neck. The air was humid and strangely warm. His skin was already sticky, despite the early hour. “Stupid weather.”

  With an eye roll, Lonnie yanked open the pack and pulled out a wadded handkerchief. She threw it at him, and at the look on her face, Gideon was glad it wasn’t a rock.

  He looked skyward, wondering if the clouds on the horizon were headed their way.

  Gideon shook dust from his pants leg and nodded toward the creek. “I’ll go fill this up.” He tucked the jug beneath his arm and strode down to the water’s edge. He let a weary sigh wash through him as he dropped to his knees and, leaning forward, pushed the jug beneath the water’s surface. He lifted the dripping container and screwed the lid on, then soaked the handkerchief and ran it over his face.

  He strode back to their camp, his thoughts jumbled. And when he glanced down at Lonnie, who sat perched on the bedroll, the faint shadows beneath her eyes made him reconsider moving on so quickly. They could rest longer.

  Yet the storm still chased them.

  “Best to be gettin’ on our way now.” He slid the pack over his shoulder and tried not to notice when she followed a step behind.

  Thunder crashed as Lonnie forced herself to put one tired foot in front of the other. They had been moving at a rapid pace for two days now. She fanned herself with her hand but found no relief from the stifling humidity. She drew in thick, moist air, and when a cold drop struck her skin, she peered up at the sky.

  Gideon nodded toward charcoal-gray clouds. “Likely to be a lightnin’ storm. It’ll be pourin’ before long.” When a rustling came from nearby bushes, he switched his gun to his other hand and pressed the wooden stock to his shoulder. A small rabbit darted forward.

  Lonnie’s hands flew to her ears, but not before he pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot ricocheted between the trees. Slowly, Gideon walked over to his kill and shook his head. “That didn’t turn out well.”

  Lonnie snorted. “What did you think was gonna happen? Large gun, small rabbit.” Her brows furrowed. “Maybe next time you should use a slingshot.”

  He flashed her an annoyed look. She laughed, then hiccupped.

  Gideon shook his head. “It’s not funny.”

  “Depends on who you ask.”

  Shadows disappeared from the forest floor, replaced with a cool cover of gray light. As if startled by the coming storm, a pile of red and gold leaves stirred from their resting place, twirling in a dizzy circle. Several cartwheeled away, settling at her feet as Lonnie passed over them.

  “Come on.” He tossed his head in the direction they were going.

  She watched Gideon’s worn-out boots tread the ground in front of her, and it took two of her steps to keep up with each long stride. Still smiling, she smeared her hand down her arm as raindrops rinsed her skin. The trees blew helplessly in the breeze. The slender branches rocked and swayed.

  It was not long before rain fell in heavy sheets, and Lonnie found herself huddled beside Gideon under the shelter of a steep boulder. The stone rose tall amongst the black oaks and curved over to form a roof.

  She pull
ed her knees to her chest and sighed. Her soaked dress clung to her legs, and she tugged at it in a vain attempt to reshape the fabric. When that failed, she leaned her head back against the stone and closed her eyes. Her throat was hot, and she swallowed the sour taste in her mouth. A drop slipped down her cheek, and she brushed it away.

  “You all right?” Gideon asked, his voice no more than a murmur.

  She stared out into the pelting rain. Her skin felt hot and cold at the same time. Through burning eyes, she glanced at her husband. “I think so. I just feel … funny.”

  He studied her for a moment without speaking. “I’m soaked through. How ’bout you?” He seemed to study his hands, where lingering drops of water pooled and dripped down his forearms.

  “Pretty much.”

  A bolt of lightning split the darkened sky, and they startled in unison.

  Gideon cleared his throat. “Wish this rain would stop.” He ran a soaked sleeve over his dripping brow, then caught the water that trickled down the side of his face.

  Lonnie nestled against the rock. Their arms touched. Too tired to move away, she let her eyes fall closed.

  As if sensing her weakness, Gideon spoke up. “We’ll rest awhile. Doesn’t look like we’ll be movin’ on anytime soon.”

  Eyes still closed, she nodded softly and listened as he fidgeted with his things. He rustled for a minute or two, then she heard the melancholy hum of his mandolin over the rain.

  Although wet and uncomfortable, Lonnie rested her cheek against her shoulder. The sound of Gideon’s voice whispering a song she did not know lulled her. His elbow gently bumped her side as he plucked the strings on his mandolin. He sang in a soft, throaty whisper, filling her with a surprising amount of peace. Even if she had the strength to join in, she wouldn’t. She didn’t like the idea of him hearing her sing. Songs were so much more than words put together to music. Singing was for showing joy.

  It was something she’d only ever done with Aunt Sarah. Something her pa clearly overlooked when he had forced her on that stage. Besides, she didn’t like the melancholy songs she heard now and again. Life could be rotten enough. She didn’t see the point of putting heartache to music. She’d never voice that to Gideon. He wouldn’t understand.

  Her head nodded to the side, and her cheek rested against Gideon’s shoulder. Too tired to move, she fell asleep.

  When she woke, the rain had stopped and the damp forest held a musty scent. Gideon hadn’t moved from her side. She lifted her head from his shoulder, and her cheek cooled. She glanced into his face to see if he had minded, but he seemed to be studying the rain-blackened trees; the stony set to his features revealed nothing. The trees seemed to stretch their limbs higher to the sky, as if to thank God for the long cool drink. Birds called out in cheerful song.

  “We’ve lost several hours.” Gideon stood and brushed the leaves from his pants.

  Lonnie wondered if they would make camp before long. The last thing she wanted to do was walk through the night, but when Gideon stretched in the filtered sunlight and tossed his pack over his shoulders, she forced herself from her nest.

  Her stomach growled, and she longed for a bowl of stew and a plate of steaming cornbread drenched in butter. Her mouth watered, and she chided herself for her daydreams. Besides, the O’Riley cupboards had been nearly bare. They hadn’t packed much food since that wouldn’t have been right. Lonnie pulled a cold slice of bread from the pack and broke it in half, fighting the urge to hang on to the larger piece. They ate in silence as they walked along, her feet falling in sync behind his, their rhythmic footsteps just a touch apart.

  Thirteen

  Gideon peered at the log cabin. Wind pulled smoke from the chimney, sweeping it to the east.

  “You think anybody’s home?” Lonnie fiddled with the buttons on her sweater, trying to slide them into place.

  “Hope so.” He took a deep breath, then stepped out of the trees. Leaves crunched as she followed behind. He stopped when the front door opened. A young man emerged.

  The man hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “You folks lookin’ for something?” He leaned against the doorjamb and crossed one foot over the other. Gideon studied him and realized he was near to his own age, but the man looked superior, standing up on his own porch, able to run a stranger off his property with the slightest inclination.

  Squaring his shoulders, Gideon chose his words carefully. “Yessir.” He tugged his floppy hat away from his unruly hair, then suddenly thought the wiser of it. “We were wondering … Well, my wife and I were wondering if perhaps … we could have … um, borrow a bite of food.” He cleared his throat. “You see, we’ve come down from Rocky Knob, and we’ve been travelin’ for a couple days.”

  The man narrowed his gaze. “Borrow a bite of food, huh?” He glanced into his cabin and puffed his cheeks.

  Gideon shifted.

  “Don’t know about borrow.” The man motioned to someone inside, then turned his attention back to Gideon. “But I sure could give you some. We got a bit to spare. You wanna come in?” His hand spread flat against the door, and it creaked open until it thudded into the wall.

  When Lonnie’s face brightened, Gideon struggled to reply. “We … we better be movin’ on, mister. We don’t have much time to linger.” Pride fed his words. He hadn’t even wanted to stop, but the gnawing in his stomach had made his feet slow when he first spotted the cabin.

  “You runnin’ from something?” the man asked.

  “No sir, just in a hurry, that’s all.” It wasn’t entirely the truth, but it was close enough. He didn’t care to spend too many more nights beneath the stars. The sooner they got to Stuart, the sooner he could find work and, if luck was on his side, a warm place to sleep.

  The young man glanced between them, a curious expression on his face. Finally, he smiled. “Name’s Jonathan. You are welcome to some food, but I sure wish you’d come in and rest a spell. My wife can cook up a mighty fine pot of beans, and we’ve got fresh venison.”

  “Gid, we could rest a bit, couldn’t we?” Lonnie’s voice was for his ears alone.

  The thought of such a meal warmed him, but Gideon shook his head.

  Jonathan shrugged. “Well, can you hold on just a bit while I go and fetch somethin’?”

  Gideon glanced at Lonnie, then nodded. “That’d be fine. We sure do appreciate it.”

  Leaving the door open, Jonathan disappeared inside.

  A woman’s voice drifted out.

  Tilting his head, Gideon strained to listen. When the lace curtain slid aside, a young woman peeked through the glass. He blinked but didn’t avert his gaze.

  Jonathan returned with a handful of brown eggs and a tin can. “Beans.” He lifted the offering. “Take these.” His boots pounded the steps.

  Cradling the eggs as best he could, Gideon passed them to Lonnie, who clutched them delicately. He pressed the tin can to his chest. The beans were still warm and fragrant with the smell of molasses and pepper.

  “Sorry it’s not more.” Jonathan pulled another tin from the crook of his elbow. “Here’s applesauce. My wife insisted you take it.”

  He handed the can to Lonnie, followed by a spoon, and she dipped it into the apple mush. The bent spoon clanged inside the can. After a few bites, Lonnie offered the rest to Gideon.

  He felt Lonnie’s frown on him, and when he looked at her, he saw something more in her eyes. Hurt. Gideon shifted. It was just like a woman to be difficult. The sooner she realized he had her best interest in mind, the better.

  He ate quickly, then glanced at the window. “Tell your wife she’s got the best applesauce I’ve ever tasted.”

  Jonathan grinned. “I’ll tell her.”

  Still savoring the taste on his tongue, Gideon tipped his hat. “Guess we’ll be on our way now. Sure do appreciate you and your wife’s generosity.”

  “Sure you won’t stay for supper?” Jonathan tossed a thumb toward his house.

  It pained Gideon to turn down such an offer. The
more the man asked, the more tempting the idea became. “We should really be movin’ on.” His eyes flicked to the window.

  Jonathan accepted the empty can. “Suit yourself.” He turned when his wife appeared in the doorway.

  Her blond hair, slicked back in a tight and shiny bun, spoke of a fresh bath. She smoothed the apron that covered her well-worn dress and smiled, showing a tidy row of white teeth.

  “Ma’am.” Gideon tapped the brim of his hat, sending a spatter of moisture up and away. He studied her pretty face longer than he should have, then dropped his gaze. For an instant, he wished he had taken the man up on his offer to stay for supper. Lonnie cleared her throat. He looked at her and wished he hadn’t when he saw the pain that flitted through her brown eyes. Gideon waved good-bye to Jonathan and walked off.

  Lonnie walked behind him. “Sure was nice of them to give us fresh eggs.” She spoke softly, and when he didn’t respond, she sighed. “I’m surprised you didn’t want to go in. I half expected you to change your mind.” Her tone pierced him.

  Gideon pinned her with his gaze. She returned his stare. Not much got past her. He’d have to keep that in mind.

  Her shoulders seemed heavier, but Gideon refused to let it dampen his spirits. Turning, he glanced past Lonnie to the porch and licked the sweet taste of applesauce from his lips.

  They walked for several hours, and he couldn’t help but notice that Lonnie didn’t say a word. When they stopped to make camp that night, Gideon gathered scraps of wood, a few dry twigs, and a handful of crisp oak leaves. It wasn’t cold, but he couldn’t shake the thought of fried eggs. As he knelt before his makeshift firepit, Lonnie spread out the bedroll. She curled onto her side and closed her eyes.

  Gideon pulled the small pan from his pack and set it near the flames. He sat back on his haunches. “We gonna have these eggs tonight?”

  Lonnie shrugged. “I’ve lost my appetite.” She didn’t look at him. “That food didn’t sit right on my stomach.”