Be Still My Soul

by Joanne Bischof

“For how long?”

  He stared into the old woman’s face. “Few days. Few weeks, maybe.”

  “Hmm.”

  “She’s seemed tired lately and sleepin’ a whole lot.” He fiddled with the cuff of his shirt even as shame burned his ears. “You see, we’ve been travelin’ by foot and she’s had a rough time keeping up.”

  Elsie sat back on her heels. “Why didn’t you stop and rest?”

  “We’ve been trying to get to Stuart.” The pendulum above his head swung from side to side as if to taunt him. “We’re in sort of a hurry.”

  “I see.” Her tone said otherwise.

  Gideon’s fingertips grazed the fabric of the couch near Lonnie’s hand.

  Elsie looked up at him. “Why don’t you head out and see if Jebediah needs any help. I’ll sit with Lonnie, see if I can’t get her to stir.” She smiled down at Lonnie. “I hope you’ll both stay for supper.”

  A warm hand pushed hair away from her face, and Lonnie felt her cheek wedged against something soft. Someone spoke her name, the voice too sweet to be Jebediah’s or Gideon’s. Lonnie opened her eyes and flinched.

  “Shh.”

  A pair of soft eyes cradled her face. “Didn’t mean to startle you, Lonnie.” An old woman sat beside her. “My name’s Elsie. I’m Jebediah’s wife.”

  Lonnie’s body complained when she sat up. Elsie tucked a pillow behind her back, and Lonnie sank into it. She swallowed, and her mouth was as dry as sand.

  “Can I get you anything?”

  “A drink of water?” Her voice came out raspy, and Lonnie cleared her throat.

  Elsie patted her hand. “I’ll be right back.” She disappeared, and Lonnie blinked, taking the room in. She peered down at the sofa where her hand rested on a thick, floral print.

  When Elsie returned with a small cup, she sat beside Lonnie. “Can I get you anything else? Are you hungry?”

  Lonnie shook her head. She sipped the water, and it cooled her mouth. “Thank you,” she said, staring into the cup.

  The woman smoothed Lonnie’s hair off her shoulder, and she gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “You had a rough go of it, I’d say.”

  Lonnie nodded when emotion welled in the back of her throat, followed by another wave of nausea.

  “Sure I can’t get you anything else?” Elsie’s eyes widened when Lonnie pressed her fingertips to her mouth. “Sure you’re all right?”

  “I think so.” Lonnie forced her hand into her lap, but her stomach still churned.

  Ducking her head, Elsie peered into her face. “Honey, you don’t need to be frightened. I’m here to help you.”

  “I fear I’m gonna be sick.”

  A cool hand pressed against Lonnie’s cheek.

  “You’re a bit pale.” Elsie rushed off, and within a minute’s time, she returned with a bowl of warm water. A plate was tucked in her other hand. She set it in Lonnie’s lap, and Lonnie peered down at a slice of buttered bread. Elsie lifted a damp cloth and dabbed the side of Lonnie’s face.

  Lonnie winced.

  “Sorry, dear.”

  The sofa was soft, and Lonnie wanted to close her eyes again. She pressed her head to the back of the cushion and sighed. Her body seemed to melt. She lifted the bread to her mouth and took a small nibble. Her nostrils flared, and the food turned sour in her mouth. It must have shown in her face, for Elsie jumped up again and rushed back with a metal bowl. Lonnie held the bowl to her chest and forced herself to take slow, steady breaths.

  Elsie’s eyebrows fell as she studied Lonnie. “How long have you been feelin’ this way?”

  “Few days. Maybe a week.” Lonnie clutched the bowl tighter and pressed a hand to her ribs where her stomach complained.

  “Is it possible that you are …?”

  Lonnie’s chin trembled, and she turned her face to the side. Elsie took hold of her hand. Lonnie’s shoulders shook in a silent sob. She blinked her dry eyes and stared at the far wall. “It’s possible.”

  “Have you had any other signs?” When Lonnie nodded, Elsie squeezed her hand. “A baby is a blessing.” Her tone was encouraging, and when Lonnie looked into Elsie’s face, she saw nothing but kindness.

  “For some.”

  Elsie tucked a strand of hair behind Lonnie’s ear. “But not for you?” The soft words, void of judgment, made Lonnie tighten her grip on Elsie’s hand as if never to let go.

  “I don’t see how a baby could help anything.”

  With a slow, shaky sigh, Elsie wrapped another hand around Lonnie’s. “How about this? You rest awhile. Got a nice bed upstairs with your name on it.” Her smile was warm. “I’ve got a broth simmering on the stove, and I’ll bring you some if you feel up to eating. You and your husband are welcome to stay the night. Give you a chance to rest up a bit.” She gave Lonnie a reassuring squeeze. “And when you’re feelin’ a little better, we’ll move on to the next step.”

  Telling Gideon. Lonnie gulped, but unable to resist Elsie’s offer, she nodded.

  Seventeen

  Looking for Jebediah was no use. The man had vanished. Gideon had been walking in circles for the last half hour, and after trying the barn once more, he gave up and strode back to the house. He rapped lightly on the door with his knuckles. Elsie’s face appeared behind the glass, and she opened it.

  “Just sent your wife upstairs for a lie-down.” She motioned for him to come in. “I was going to bring her up a bowl of broth.” She spoke over her shoulder, apron strings bouncing as she scooted through the kitchen.

  “Mind if I …?”

  Elsie studied him a heartbeat and then handed him the bowl. Her tone tightened. “Door on the left.”

  Gideon found it easily and, after slipping into the bedroom, saw that Lonnie was asleep. The collar of a fresh nightgown brushed against her cheek. Elsie bustled in behind him, a pitcher of steaming water in her hand. She poured the water into the washbasin and stuck her finger in. She ducked out, then returned, a tin can in the crook of her elbow. She lifted the lid and pulled out a dark glass bottle. Tipping several droplets onto a clean rag, she gently touched the scrape on Lonnie’s face.

  She looked to Gideon. “Fetch me when she wakes up.”

  He set the bowl on the nightstand and pulled a chair closer to the bed. Elsie stepped out, leaving the door cracked.

  As Gideon watched Lonnie sleep, he rubbed his hands back and forth on his pants. The broth steamed on the nightstand.

  He glanced to her hands. They were clean now—no mud in the creases of her palm or caked beneath her fingernails. He lifted his eyes to the washbasin, and his gaze fell on a glass of water on the nightstand, half full. He crossed his arms over his chest and watched her. Elsie bustled about below, pots and pans clattering. When the grandfather clock chimed from the parlor, Lonnie’s eyes opened slowly, and, blinking, she peered up at the ceiling. When she turned and saw him, fear flooded her eyes.

  “It’s all right.” He straightened. “Everything’s going to be all right.” He didn’t want to be a monster. He swallowed, hoping someday she would forgive him for it. But with his dreams for the future suddenly collapsed around him, Gideon didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t asked for this. Any of it.

  Lonnie’s chest collapsed as she finally let out a breath. She swallowed, and her head settled back onto the pillow.

  “I brought you something to eat. Are you hungry?” Gideon gestured toward the bowl of broth.

  At her nod, he lifted the bowl from the nightstand and balanced it on his knees. He hesitated, clutching the spoon. Should he feed her, or just give her the bowl and leave? When Lonnie didn’t move, Gideon scooted forward. He tipped the spoon down and then lifted it to her mouth.

  Her face registered surprise, and he halted. Several droplets struck her nightgown.

  “I suppose you could do this yourself.”

  She nodded slowly, confusion thick in her brown eyes.

  Heat swept over the back of his neck. “Sorry.” He handed her the bowl.

  She took it
but made no move to eat.

  He glanced at the dresser drawer that was still slightly open. His gaze traced the lace at her collarbone—bright white like everything else in this house seemed to be. “Should … should I fetch something else?”

  “I’m not really hungry. Thank you.” Her voice was even, void of emotion.

  He suddenly wished he could read her thoughts. “Well, I suppose I’ll leave you.” He stood, the chair skidding back awkwardly.

  She peered up at him. “Gideon? What are the odds you could just sit still for a minute?”

  When she motioned with her head toward the chair, he sat. His knees bumped against the bed. She handed him the bowl, and he placed it on the nightstand. She folded her hands in her lap and seemed to study them. When she didn’t speak, Gideon cleared his throat. She looked up at him, her eyes glossy.

  Something stirred in his chest.

  “There’s something I need to tell you.”

  He leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. “I’m listening,” he said dumbly. Staring at the floor, he tugged at his still-damp shirt and shifted his boots. When he forced his eyes to meet Lonnie’s face, he felt every moment of his shameful actions. He didn’t know what to make of that.

  “There’s … I mean, I suspect …” She drew in a shaky sigh and didn’t look at him. “I’m thinkin’ I might have a baby on the way.”

  He blinked rapidly. He tried to swallow, but his mouth could do nothing but hang open. A strange sound slipped from his throat. “A … a baby?”

  “It’s possible.” She pressed her hand to her collarbone.

  Possible? He groaned. Stupid man. He pressed his forehead to his interlocked fingers and slammed his eyes shut. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be. No baby … not him.

  “Gideon?”

  “I … I …” He stood and left the room.

  He didn’t need this. Ever. A sickening churned in his gut as he stomped down the stairs and through the house.

  Gideon slipped out the door and stood on the back porch. The air was dimming, and glancing up at the gray sky, he could only guess that the sun would set within the hour. He slid his hat into place. Jebediah was leading a cow into the barn. Gideon surveyed the lay of the farm as he waited for Jebediah to return. When the man appeared, Gideon strode in that direction.

  “How’s that little wife of yours?” Jebediah asked.

  “Fine.”

  “She better be.” Jebediah pointed to the woodpile. “See that?”

  “Yessir.”

  “Get choppin’.”

  “All of it? I don’t know if—”

  “I wasn’t asking.” Jebediah held out a pair of work gloves, his face hard.

  Gideon took the gloves before Jebediah could beat him over the head with them.

  “When you’re finished, you can go check on Lonnie.”

  Nodding, Gideon strode off. He didn’t want to think about Lonnie just now. He studied the woodpile. Larger pieces lay about, waiting for an ax blade. He glanced from the mess to Jebediah.

  “In there.” Jebediah pointed to the barn. “Hangin’ by the door.”

  Gideon stepped inside the barn, nabbed the ax, and yanked the rickety door closed. He glanced around, but Jebediah was gone. Gritting his teeth, Gideon pounded a chunk of wood on the chopping block, steadied it, and stepped back. Squaring his shoulders, he adjusted his grip, then heaved the ax over his head. In one broad swing, he brought it down with all his might. Two halves spiraled into the yard. He reached for another chunk. Bending made his head hurt. He rubbed at the lump. A baby on the way. He ran his hand over his eyes. You gotta be kidding me.

  “Jebediah got you hard at work?”

  At the sound of Elsie’s voice, Gideon straightened. “Yes ma’am.”

  A pan in one hand, she strode across the yard and disappeared into the barn. His shoulders settled, and he let his troubles slip from the front of his mind even as blood pumped through his veins. Overcome with the urge to break something, he lifted the ax and brought it down, splitting the piece into two halves with one smooth blow. He had split dozens of pieces by the time Elsie stepped back out. She set the pan full of milk down and pushed against the heavy barn door. It creaked closed.

  “Need a hand?” Gideon panted.

  “Naw. This old door has acted this way for years.” She pushed harder, and the latch finally fell into place. Elsie picked up the pan and walked back to the porch. “Come on inside when you get hungry.”

  “Yes ma’am.” Gideon glanced around for Jebediah and doubted the old man would like to find him sitting at the table. Maybe later. His stomach grumbled, but he wasn’t about to cross Jebediah any more than he already had. Gideon tried the barn door. Tilting to one side, it creaked open when he pulled on it. He pressed against it, and the wood complained. He ran a callused hand along the hinges and eyed the repairs that needed to be done. The Bennetts needed help with more than just the woodpile. Gideon chewed the inside of his cheek and made a note to look at the door again tomorrow. Not for Jebediah. For Elsie. He’d work on it before he and Lonnie left.

  He didn’t know how Lonnie would react when he told her they had to keep moving, but she needed to understand. They couldn’t stay here. Jebediah’s armload of wood confirmed Gideon’s worry. Winter wouldn’t wait for him to find work. It certainly wouldn’t wait for him to find a home. And he was about to become his pa. A man with too many mouths to feed.

  The burden hung around his neck like a millstone.

  It took all his restraint to keep from kicking the door closed.

  Returning to the woodpile, Gideon split another piece. The ax felt right in his hand. He glanced around for Jebediah, but the man was nowhere in sight. For a moment, he looked up at the bedroom window, where Lonnie lay resting. He turned back to his work. He couldn’t think about that right now. He pushed his thoughts to the wind and felt his muscles and mind relax as one. He bent and lifted a large round piece. It took all his strength to settle it on the chopping block. He flung off his flannel shirt and tossed it on the stack. Sweat dampened his undershirt to his skin. As the land grew darker, he continued to split wood. Just when his sore shoulders warned him to stop, Jebediah appeared. Pieces were scattered everywhere. Gideon began to stack them, making a show of taking great care. Jebediah would probably spit in his soup if he didn’t.

  “Not bad.” The man crossed his arms over his chest and studied Gideon’s work.

  Gideon rubbed the scruff of his jaw and almost smiled.

  “Just finished up the rest of the chores. Let’s head inside.”

  Gideon snagged the edge of a flannel sleeve and stuffed his arms through. He folded down the collar, then worked the buttons into place as he followed Jebediah to the porch. He froze when he caught his image in the cracked mirror that hung from a rusted nail. He tousled his hair, but it was no use. He needed a bath.

  When they finished washing hands and faces, Jebediah pitched the foggy water into the yard and set the empty bucket in place. Gideon ran a dry cloth behind his neck. As he watched the old man, he thought about asking him why he hadn’t just run him off with that shotgun of his.

  Gideon cringed at the sight Jebediah had stumbled upon. The beast he had seen. Though he’d tried to trample it, his guilt surfaced.

  “I’ve been wondering something.” The words came out weak. “Earlier, I mean. About what you saw and all.”

  Jebediah’s face shadowed.

  “I didn’t mean to … I don’t know what came over me—”

  “That so?” Jebediah replied, his voice flat.

  “What I mean to say is … I’m sorry.”

  Silver eyebrows shot up. “Sorry? To me?” He grunted. “I’m not the one you were flingin’ about.” His gray eyes hardened.

  “No sir.” Gideon hung his head.

  “But if in fact you are sorry, you might tell the person who needs to hear it.” Jebediah drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. His gaze filtered over the farm. “There
’s a lesson to be learned in this.”

  “Yessir.” Gideon rubbed his sore shoulder, exhausted from sweating off his frustration. His guilt.

  A pair of gray eyes followed the movement. “But you ain’t learned it yet.”

  “Sir?”

  “You’ve got a ways to go, boy, if you think you deserve that little lady upstairs.”

  Dropping his gaze, Gideon stared at his tattered boots and shifted his feet. He stuffed his hands in his pockets.

  “I hope you’ll get there, though. For her sake.”

  When Gideon didn’t answer, Jebediah reached for the door. He motioned with his head for Gideon to follow. “Come on. I smell supper.”

  Elsie slid cups onto the table and spun around. Her eyes flicked from Gideon’s muddy boots to his disheveled hair. “I see you’ve been working hard this afternoon.”

  “Yes ma’am.” Lifting his head, Gideon listened for signs that Lonnie was up and about.

  “Have a seat.” Jebediah handed him a glass of cold tea.

  Gideon accepted it and stepped toward the table. The kitchen, nearly the size of his pa’s entire house, was nothing like the one he’d grown up in. Lace curtains framed glass-paned windows, and pots of herbs and flowers lined the sills. The floor was smooth and well polished. Nothing like back home where a boy got splinters in his bare feet just from crossing it.

  When Elsie brought him a plate of food, Gideon lifted his elbows. “Thank you.” He stared at the mound of beans, still steaming and topped with a biscuit. She placed a bowl of hot broth beside it. It was all he could do to wait for Jebediah to say grace, and he accepted another serving as soon as he cleaned his plate. He set down his empty glass and wiped his mouth. “How’s Lonnie?”

  “She’s doin’ just fine.” Elsie’s face took on a warm glow. “She’s been resting real good all day. That poor girl was plumb tuckered out.” She rose from the table and grabbed Gideon’s glass, shaking it as an offer for more.

  “No, thank you.”

  “I was gonna bring her another bowl of broth. Would you mind takin’ it up to her while I wash the dishes?” She tapped her ladle on the side of the pot.