Be Still My Soul: The Cadence of Grace, Book 1 (10 page)

At a cool touch on her hand, Lonnie opened her eyes. Gideon was crouched in front of her, his face so near she could make out the freckles smattered across his nose. When she met his gaze, he stood.

“It’s all settled.”

“Settled?” she sat up slowly, her head spinning.

“High time I moved on from here.”

She blinked up at him, unable to respond.

“From Rocky Knob. I can’t stay here anymore. There’s too much …” He tilted his face to the setting sun that shone orange in the small window. “Too much I’d like to forget.”

Lonnie smoothed her unruly hair away from her face. “What do you mean?”

She twirled the cold tin ring around her finger, and when he didn’t respond, she sighed loudly. Apparently he only spoke when he had something to gain.

Gideon reached under the bed, pulled out a pack, and blew off the dust. Without hesitating, he moved to the dresser and yanked open a drawer. He stuffed a pair of socks into the pack and then another. He shoved the drawer closed and opened the one below it.

“I take it I’m staying here?” she blurted. She felt a sense of satisfaction when he stopped and looked at her. Surprise leaked into his stony features. Good. It was high time he stopped looking past her as if she didn’t exist.

He pulled out a white shirt and rolled the wrinkled fabric into a ball. He spoke without looking at her. “You’re my wife.” His voice held a sorrow that made her feel hollow inside. “Better pack your things.”

I
’m gonna miss you, son …”

Gideon felt the truth in his pa’s words with his firm handshake.

“You take care of yourself now. And take care of that little lady.” Bill’s eyes drifted to Lonnie, his meaning clear.

Gideon studied the ground. Dew clung to the wilted grass beneath his feet. The cold chill of morning crept along his bare hands, and he pulled up the oilcloth collar of his outer coat. Lonnie stood beside him, her breathing surprisingly heavy despite the early hour. He glanced at her and, for a single moment, wondered if she was well enough to travel. Bill stepped back, shoulders hunched, cheeks thin from days of illness and weak broth.

Gideon glanced past his pa to the porch where his ma stood. The dim, gray light of dawn made her look years older.

“Safe travels.” Her voice, though gritty as ever, trembled slightly.

“Thank you for your hospitality,” Lonnie said.

Ruth nodded, though she said nothing.

The night before, after his pa had read from the Scriptures and laid the heavy family Bible aside, Gideon had bid each of his brothers and sisters farewell. Sound asleep now in their beds, they would wake to
find him gone. Lonnie shifted her weight, silent as a field mouse. She reached up with a thin hand and brushed the wisps of chestnut hair away from her face.

Lifting his gaze to the dark windows of the cabin, Gideon slid his floppy hat over unruly hair. It was better this way. He wasn’t much for good-byes, and another round was more than he had in him. A bedroll was strapped to his pack, and he hoisted both off the ground. He flung the pack over his shoulder and palmed the smooth wood of his rifle. His mandolin rested snug in its sack, the strap taut across his chest. He turned and headed up the path that would carry him from his pa’s farm. The home of his childhood.
Toward what?

To a life of his own. To freedom. Gideon fingered the newspaper cutting in his coat pocket. But when Lonnie fell in step beside him, he realized he was as far from freedom as he’d ever been.

Good-bye
, Lonnie whispered in her heart, though her family would not hear the words.

She would not hold Addie one last time or bid farewell to Aunt Sarah. Sorrow stung the back of her throat. Surely she’d see them again.
Please, Lord, let it be so
. She’d left a note with Ruth, clinging to the promise that Gideon’s ma would see it safely delivered. Again, Lonnie lifted up a prayer that it would be so.

“Where are we headed?”

Gideon drew in a slow breath. He strode on several more steps.

“If you keep actin’ like it’s none of my business, I’m going to perch myself right here and not budge.” She folded her arms across her chest and leaned against a boulder.

He rolled his eyes and then planted them on her.

She didn’t blink.

Finally, his resolve visibly crumbled and he yanked a piece of paper from his pocket. He thrust it toward her. Lonnie took it and read the headline. Her lips moved silently as she read the paragraph that followed.

“So this is where we’re going? Stuart?”

He nodded once.

She screwed her mouth to the side and studied the paper that had been torn out carelessly.

He ducked beneath a maple branch and paused to hold it out of her way. “Are you coming or not?”

She looked at him, then back at the fragment of paper in her hand. Sticking her tongue in the side of her cheek, she weighed her options. With Gideon’s ring on her finger, there weren’t many.

“What if I say no?”

His eyebrows wedged together. “Would you?”

“Maybe.” She pressed her wrist to her stomach when memories from the woodshop assaulted her.

He drew in a slow sigh. “Is this about last week?”

When emotion flooded her face, she shifted her stance and knew her heart had found its way to her sleeve.

His face lost its hard edge. “Don’t worry.” The words came out soft. “I won’t come near you again.”

Still leaning against the boulder, she bounced her heel. She didn’t like the idea of living in the city. But then … she could learn a trade, perhaps. She glanced at Gideon from beneath her lashes. She wouldn’t go home to her pa. Of that she was certain. As she balanced between the two men in her life who could make her miserable, a trade might one day come in handy.

He waited.

With a slow, shaky sigh, she folded the paper. “So.” She held it out to him. “Tell me about your plan.”

He lifted the branch again, and she ducked beneath it. “I figured we’d head there,” he began. “It says Stuart’s growin’, so there’s plenty of work. It wouldn’t be forever.” He stepped over a fallen log, then hesitated, as if deciding. “Maybe eventually we could get a few acres. I could do carpentry or something to make ends meet.” He turned back and helped her over.

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.

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.