Bert made a face, his annoyance clear. After hesitating a moment, he snatched the drink back. “Suit yerself.”
When Gideon didn’t move, Bert blinked up at him. “You can leave now.”
“I’ll take that ring back.”
Bert grunted. His men laughed. “I don’t think so.” Bert slid the ring inside his coat. He stood. His men hovered. “Deal’s a deal.”
Grinding his teeth, Gideon snatched up his hat. He stormed forward, and his shoulder smacked Bert’s. In an instant, the men were around him, arms shoving him this way and that, coats flapping open. Gideon shoved his way free.
“Let him go,” Bert growled. “He’s not worth our time.”
Gideon crashed through the brush and jogged down the hill until he spotted the trail. He panted but didn’t slow. It wasn’t until he’d put half a mile between him and them that he hunched over and caught his breath. His mouth curved in a smile. He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out the chain of a silver watch. He had a mind to get a lot farther from Bert’s men before it was missed. He tossed the watch from one hand to the other, then slid it back out of sight. There was no need to worry, really. It wasn’t like they knew where he was staying. He threw a glance over his shoulder to the quiet forest behind him. The watch would fetch a pretty penny, but he had a better use for it.
Twenty-Four
Shlap. Lonnie threw the damp sheet across the clothesline, then rose on her tiptoes to smooth it across the tight rope. She nabbed a wooden pin from her apron pocket, determined to keep the late afternoon breeze from claiming her laundry.
She bent and tugged two pillowcases from the wicker basket, the wet fabric chilling her already cold hands. After pinning them into place, she stepped back. She was out of room on her line, and fortunately out of laundry.
A light wind caught the sheet, pushing damp fabric against her bare legs. Lonnie tugged her skirt down toward her ankles and shivered. Leaves rustled overhead, and several spiraled to the ground. She wrapped her arms around herself. October hovered on the horizon, and as if the seasons belonged in the churner’s hand, summer had quickly changed to fall.
Lonnie doubted Gideon had much to protect him from the cold. She had tried not to think of him all day, but he crept into her mind more often than she could count. Her gaze lifted to the edge of the yard, shadowed by thick stands of trees. How she longed to see him coming into the yard with regret written across his features. Lonnie crouched down and lifted the empty basket to her hip.
But she knew better. What made her think he would apologize?
Sliding the basket onto the porch, she clenched her hands at her sides in frustration. She glanced over her shoulder to the path that disappeared around the bend. Gideon. Surly and russet haired. She shook her head.
She was glad he was gone.
He could walk right off a cliff for all she cared.
Yet she stood on her tiptoes and scanned the tree line. She laced her fingers together, still damp from her chore. Again, the breeze rose, running its cool hand against her freshly hung sheets. Another glance at the empty space between a pair of oaks and Lonnie dropped her eyes to the grass.
The taste of liquor clung to his lips as Gideon walked through the shady trees. He was glad he’d just had the one sip. In fact, he wished he hadn’t had any at all.
His loose shoelace whipped against the dirt, and Gideon knelt, taking care to straighten the cuff of his pants leg before standing. He’d looked back more than a dozen times but knew that no one was on his tail. He forced his shoulders to relax and strode onward. To his surprise, his hand felt naked without the ring. The thought made Lonnie’s face come to mind.
When his stomach growled, he longed for a plate of Elsie’s cooking. She would have started supper by now, and Jebediah would be busy with the evening chores, and Lonnie …
Gideon pulled his hat off and ran a hand through his hair. What would Lonnie be doing? He closed his eyes.
Would she be waiting for him?
Twenty-Five
A low evening star seemed to taunt Lonnie as she glanced toward the trees again. With her feet wedged on each side of the churn, her hand slowly moved the staff up and down. The land seemed to dim before her eyes. Her feet shifted silently on the wood porch. Each glance felt as foolish as the last, but …
She strained to listen.
The soft thud of footsteps forced her hand still. The staff never struck down as she hovered on the edge of her stool.
The screen squeaked, and Jebediah stepped out. Rising, Lonnie wiped her hands on her apron and blinked into the gray light. She saw Gideon’s hat bob. Then his shoulders. He lifted his head. His face.
She moved back, retreating through the doorway.
Seconds ticked away like hours as Gideon walked toward the porch. Her hand trembled on the handle of the screen door.
He glanced at her, and something in his eyes made her swallow hard. His shoulders slumped when he ducked his head again.
“Gideon,” Jebediah said calmly.
Gideon tipped his chin up, but his eyes locked with Lonnie’s.
She stared into a suntanned face hidden behind the shadow of a beard, took in the smattering of freckles across his nose. She bit her bottom lip as a battle took place in her heart.
Jebediah stepped back. “I’ll just leave you two alone for a bit,” he whispered, brushing past her. His gray eyes were as hard as ice. “Holler if you need me.”
Lonnie knew he would not go far.
Gideon scaled the porch steps as the screen slammed closed. She slid the latch into place. His face looked pained as he squinted down at her through the wire mesh.
“You came home,” she whispered.
He sucked in a chestful of air. “Yeah.” His gaze swept over her. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
His breath was thick with moonshine.
She pursed her lips and stared at the space between them. He pulled on the latch. It didn’t budge.
His eyelids fell to half-mast. “Ain’t you gonna let me in?”
Lonnie pressed her tongue against the inside of her cheek.
He grunted and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Where were you?”
With a slight shake of his head, he shrugged. “Nowhere.”
“I see.” She knew false regret when she saw it. Gideon’s frame blocked out a coal-black sky. The air nipped at her bare arms, and she noticed he did not have a coat.
Still, words did not come. The last thread holding them together—weighed down by silence and disappointment—felt frayed. Breathing was suddenly a struggle as anger and sorrow bubbled inside her.
Jebediah’s heavy coat hung on a peg next to the door. Lonnie pulled it down and opened the screen just enough to push it through. Gideon stared at her offering, blinking slowly. A muscle flexed in his jaw as he reached for the flannel. His fingers grazed hers.
The screen slammed.
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Good night, Gideon.” Her throat burned.
His eyes narrowed. “What?”
“I said good night.” Reaching back, she fumbled for the door.
“You gotta be kidding.” He leaned forward, the scent of his breath piercing her heart. “I’m sorry. How many times do I have to say it?”
It took all her strength not to cry when she looked at him. His pleading eyes disappeared as she shut the door.
“Lonnie!” he yelled, his voice muted. The screen door squeaked open.
She jammed the lock into place, and when his hand slammed against the door, she jumped back. Her trembling fingertips flew to her lips, and she stepped away. Gideon called her name again. The door shook when he kicked it, and the screen rattled so hard she feared he would tear it from the frame.
Then silence.
“Please, Lonnie.” His voice was broken.
Though he could not see her, she shook her head and stepped away.
Jebediah stomped in. “What
’s going on?”
Tears came. “Just leave him,” she whispered. “If he’s gone in the morning, then he’s gone and that’s that.”
Gideon stepped in front of the window. “Lonnie.” His voice was muffled behind the glass. His eyebrows lifted in surrender, and Lonnie clasped her hands together, hating the sound of her name on his lips.
He pressed his palm against the window, leaving a dirty handprint. She backed out of the kitchen and ran up the stairs. Gideon’s voice trailed after her. She threw herself down on the bed and sobbed. Oh God, what do I do? “Lonnie!”
She jumped. He was below her window. She slid off the bed and fell to the floor. She trembled as she crawled out the bedroom door, desperate to flee his voice. Huddling in the hallway, she barely noticed Elsie at the bottom of the stairs, her mouth open. Lonnie looked away, too embarrassed for words. Elsie stood silent as Gideon clamored around the outside of the house, making more noise than any man should.
Finally, Elsie spoke, her voice impossibly calm. “I’m sorry, Lonnie.” She twisted a damp tea towel in her hands. “You don’t deserve this. No woman does.”
“Well, life doesn’t always happen the way we’d like.” Lonnie stared at the papered wall in front of her. The faded print was as worn as her spirit.
“No. It doesn’t.” Elsie climbed the steps and sank down next to her. “But you gotta keep fightin’ the good fight.” She rested a soft hand on Lonnie’s knee.
“I don’t know what that is anymore.”
“You did what you had to do.”
Tears stung Lonnie’s eyes. “Then why do I feel so terrible?”
Elsie sighed. “Because Gideon hurt you. I know this ain’t the first time either.” The back of her finger traced Lonnie’s jaw, where the bruise had faded. Elsie dropped her hand and took Lonnie’s. “The best way for him to deal with that is to make you feel like you are the one who is hurting him. If he turns your troubles on you, then he can act like nothing is really ever his fault.”
Lonnie leaned her head against the wall and stared at the ceiling.
“Really, what that man needs is a good whuppin’.” Elsie half smiled. “I’m sure Jebediah would volunteer.”
Lonnie rested her chin on her knees. “Jeb’s gonna have to stand in line, then.”
Elsie’s smile filled out. She pressed her shoulder to the wall, and her face sobered. “God is in control. He has you in the palm of His hand.” Elsie’s grip tightened as if to drive her words deep.
“I’m so afraid. I don’t know what to do.”
“Well, know you are always welcome here.” Elsie’s other hand moved in a slow circle on Lonnie’s back. “Seems like God placed an impossible fate before you, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t know why.” Lonnie lowered her head as the rhythmic motion calmed her. “I don’t mean to complain, but haven’t I had enough yet?” Her voice felt small. “All my life it’s felt like I’ve been drowning—barely keeping my head above water.”
Elsie let out a slow sigh. Gently, she kissed the side of Lonnie’s head. “Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by thy name; thou art mine.” The words came out no more than a whisper.
Lonnie nodded softly. She knew the passage well.
Elsie pressed her cheek to the top of Lonnie’s head. “When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee.” Her voice was soft. Soothing.
Lonnie sniffed when her emotions threatened to spill over again. She whispered the last few words. “When thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned.”
Pulling her knees up, she pressed her palms to her sore eyes and sniffed. God was here. He’d always been here. And He wasn’t going to leave her.
A star blinked from the window. Lonnie lay in the middle of the hall with her back curled up against the cold wall. She waited and listened. Elsie stayed by her side, round fingers gently combing through Lonnie’s hair.
Lonnie sat up and brushed her hair away from her cheeks, which were sticky with dried tears. She glanced down the hall and stared out the tiny window as the sun glinted in the glory of its own reflection. All she could hear was silence. Morning.
Her heart sank and rose in the same instant. Gideon. Lonnie scrambled to her feet and tiptoed down the stairs, her black gingham dress crumpled and dusty from the hallway. Her bare feet hardly made a sound as she crossed the cold kitchen floor. She stopped just short of the window and peered out. The glass fogged in front of her face, and Lonnie smeared it with her wrist. She scanned the porch steps but saw no sign of Gideon.
He was gone. The feeling struck her like a hammer on an anvil.
Pressing her forehead to her arm, she squeezed her eyes shut and gripped the door handle. A reassurance, low in her gut, lifted warm and sure, pulsing through her veins like her own blood; wherever Gideon was, God was by his side. And His promises were at hand.
Lonnie lifted her eyes, and after unlatching the door, she pushed it open. Something blocked the doorway, so she pushed harder.
“Hey!”
She froze, seeing a pair of unlaced boots. Two legs slid out of sight, and Gideon’s face appeared in the crack of the doorway.
The warmth left her limbs, concentrating in her heart. “Gideon?”
“Well, it ain’t no ’coon,” he grumbled, scratching his head. He crawled to his feet and wiped his face with his sleeve. He eyed her grumpily.
She could not think of what to say. “It was a cold night,” she blurted.
Gideon shrugged. “Not any colder than the night before. At least this time I had a jacket.” He stood slowly. One hand was pressed to the wall, the other to the side of his head.
Jebediah shuffled into the kitchen. “Mornin’.” He brushed past Lonnie and opened the door wider.
Gideon glanced at her, his expression torn.
“You stayin’, son?” The older man stepped onto the porch, and the screen slammed closed behind him.
Gideon dropped his eyes. “Yessir. If … if it’s all right with you.” His eyes nearly lifted to Lonnie’s face.
Leaning back on his heels, Jebediah studied him. He glanced at Lonnie, his expression soft, as if to ask permission.
She nodded slowly, bewildered and stunned.
Jebediah stepped closer to Gideon and thrust a finger into his chest. “I don’t ever want to see you like that again.” His jaw clamped shut. “No liquor. Not one drop. You hear?”
Gideon nodded.
Jebediah tilted his head to the side and kept his finger pinned into place. “Or else don’t bother comin’ back next time. Lonnie might be your wife by law, but the way I see it, she’s my responsibility until you prove your worth. If that means keepin’ you around a lot longer, so be it.”
Gideon lowered his face. “Yessir.”
Jebediah stepped back, and Gideon reached for the door.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Sir?”
“I don’t want you in my house right now. Besides, you stink.” Jebediah made a face that matched his words. “I need to decide what to do with you. In the meantime”—he tossed his hand toward the yard—“go … kill a chicken or something.”
Twenty-Six
Gideon stared at the quiet house and flicked up the collar of his coat. Lonnie was still avoiding him. Not just for a morning. Not even for a day.
Two weeks.
For two weeks, she’d kept her eyes down and her answers short. Though he’d tried to speak with her here and there, he hadn’t gotten more out of her than “yes” and “no” since his return. And why should she care what you have to say? Gideon wiped his hands on his pants and glanced around the yard. With the barn door shut and latched for the evening, he headed toward the house with more than supper on his mind.
He couldn’t figure out what was wrong with Lonnie. If she noticed his missing ring, she didn’t say as much. A few days ago, he thought he’d surprise her with the pocket watch. A peace of
fering of sorts. When she’d asked him where he got it, he struggled to answer. When he finally told her, she flung the watch at his head. He caught the trinket just in time, the metal clasp digging into his palm.
Women. Hardest creatures in the world to please.
Elsie looked up when he stomped into the kitchen. She shoved a piece of wood into the stove and slammed the heavy lid.
His gaze flickered over the kitchen. There was evidence of his wife’s hand everywhere. As if of its own accord, his chest lifted.
Elsie pulled out a cutting board. “Lonnie ducked into the cellar a moment ago. She’ll be right back.”
“Oh.”
Jebediah stormed in, newspaper tucked under his arm.
Gideon made a show of rubbing his hands together. “I’m gonna wash up a bit.” Before anyone could speak, he stepped onto the porch, only to stare at the wash bucket. Elsie and Jebediah chatted away inside, and with them paying him no mind, Gideon slipped away.
He walked around the house to the cellar, not surprised to see the door closed. Lonnie knew better than to leave it open for a raccoon or a fox to make its home among Elsie’s abundant stores. Gideon lifted the door and started down the ladder, suddenly wishing he knew what to say.
“Gid?” His name lifted from below, a trace of surprise in Lonnie’s voice. She held up a lantern, casting a soft light across her face. “What are you doing here?”
He made sure to shut the door before descending the last two rungs. The still air, heavy with the smell of herbs, seemed to swallow him up. “Elsie said you were down here. Thought you might need a hand.” He ducked when a spider’s web tickled his forehead.
She stacked bars of roughly cut soap on wooden slats.
“What are you doing?”
“Setting these to cure. I offered to make soap for Elsie.” She looked at him, clearly bewildered. “They need to set for a couple weeks before we can use it.”
“That’s right.”
“Didn’t know you were a master soap maker.” A smile carried on her voice.
Be Still My Soul Page 15