Be Still My Soul: The Cadence of Grace, Book 1 (2 page)

As they were about to round into the third verse, the words snagged in her throat. She blinked, her mind suddenly blank.
Lonnie, you know this
! With his shoulders hunched, Gideon’s hands flew over the fret board, and the fiddler played louder than ever. After clearing her throat, Lonnie readied herself for the last verse.

But Gideon sped up, leaving the rest of the band behind.

When the crowd bellowed and cheered, Lonnie bit her lip. Gideon played faster, an impish grin lighting his face. She clapped trembling hands and glanced to the musician beside her. Shaking his head, Samson rose slowly from his chair and, still plucking the strings of his banjo, crossed the porch. He flashed a twisted smile.

Cheers swarmed from the crowd. With slow movements, Samson reached out his boot and kicked Gideon’s stool so hard it flew out from under him. Gideon stumbled but did not fall. His hand fell from the fret board, and after throwing a glare at Samson, he grabbed the stool and sat.

“C’mon, Gid! Lighten up a bit, would ya?” Samson yelled over the noise.

Gideon rushed in with a few last strums until only his vibrations remained, bouncing through the woods. Folks whistled and cheered so loudly Lonnie could no longer hear the pounding of her heart. Clapping along, she stepped back. Never again would her pa talk her into singing in front of folks. No sir. Her place was in the back of the crowd.

Gideon held his mandolin over his head and bowed. As cocky as he was, Lonnie couldn’t help but smile. He walked toward her and, without hesitation, draped an arm over her shoulders. He smelled of smoke and cedar. Heat grew in the back of her neck and tingled into her cheeks. She needn’t look down to see the flame in her pa’s face as well—she knew it was there.

When the applause mellowed, she slid away and scurried down the steps, her legs weak and head light with relief. She brushed past a nuzzling couple and ducked under a thick arm that clutched a pint of cider, finally spotting her aunt Sarah beneath a scarlet maple. Enough moonlight danced through the leaves to make the woman’s ginger bun shine. Rushing over, Lonnie clasped her cool hands, the rough skin worn and familiar.

“Why, you’re tremblin’ som’n awful.” Sarah squeezed her hand. “Don’t think for one moment you don’t belong up there. You’da made your ma proud.”

Lonnie fought to catch her breath. “That was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

She felt a shadow behind her. Lonnie didn’t need to glance over her shoulder when rough fingertips clutched her elbow. “We’ll be leaving now.” Her pa’s voice was gruff.

She glanced at her aunt, then peered up at him. “Mind if I stay a bit longer?”

His eyes flinched, but then he sighed. The smell of moonshine hung thick. “Walk home with Oliver. He’s stayin’ too.”

“Yessir. Thank you, Pa.” Her words seemed to fall on nothing but the breeze as he strode from the clearing. Lonnie knew her ma would be up waiting, the littlest ones already tucked into bed. With a sigh, she let the last of her worry melt into the cool night air and turned to her aunt, pleased to have her company for at least a little while longer.

“So …” Sarah’s whimsical voice nearly sang the single word.

“Don’t say it.” Lonnie wagged a finger with little authority, knowing full well what her aunt was itching to say.

Sarah sobered, the lines around her eyes smoothing.

But Lonnie knew her mother’s sister well. “I blush too easily,” she blurted.

A smile lifted her aunt’s round cheeks. Twice Lonnie’s age and with skin a shade paler, she was as dear a friend as Lonnie had ever had. When Sarah’s gaze moved past her, Lonnie tossed a glance over her shoulder and saw the blacksmith run a cloth over his fiddle. Samson lowered his banjo into a sack. Gideon had moved on. His shoulder was pressed to the bark of a hundred-year-old chestnut, and his arms lay folded over his chest. The girl he was wooing looked more than willing to have his undivided attention.

“Seems like every girl in Rocky Knob wants to steal that boy’s heart.” Sarah shook her head. “Don’t you pay it no never mind.”

Forcing a shrug, Lonnie tugged at a pinch of her faded dress. The fabric, different shades of blue, had seen better days. She suddenly wished she hadn’t been so eager to stay behind.

“There you are!” Oliver bounded up to them, his voice stuck between a man’s and a child’s. Lonnie peered up into his thin face.

“Heard you were still here,” he panted.

The crowd milled around them. A child’s boot grazed her bare ankle, and Lonnie moved closer to her brother.

“I meant to come find you. Please, don’t leave without me.” She fought a yawn.

“Leave?” His voice cracked on the single word. “The night’s just begun!”

A broad hand clapped Oliver on the shoulder. “Indeed it has.” Lonnie looked up to see Gideon passing by.

“Gid!” Oliver squeaked. “Just the man I wanted to see.” He grabbed Gideon’s arm, halting him. Then, with scarcely a breath, Oliver began pelting him with questions about playing.

Gideon chuckled, but his eyes drifted to where he had been headed, his lack of interest in Oliver clear.

“And when you hit that solo …” Oliver swallowed loudly. His chest heaved with enthusiasm. “It was … amazing!”

“You’re my kinda fella.” Gideon tousled the boy’s hair, nearly bumping Lonnie with his elbow. She stepped back, embarrassed by how invisible she must seem. She thought back to his behavior on stage and the way he’d made her blush. When a girl had Gideon O’Riley’s attention, she didn’t have it for long.

“Say, Gid,” Oliver said as Gideon turned to go, “I’ve been wanting to learn myself. What key was …?”

Lonnie didn’t hear the rest of her brother’s words.

Gideon’s body shifted, and his demeanor changed when Cassie Allan strode by. Only a few years older than Lonnie and quite pretty, Cassie gave Gideon a sorrowful glance. He tugged off his hat and ran fingers
through his hair. His hand lingered, arm up, as if to shield himself. He cleared his throat, suddenly showing interest in Oliver’s ramblings.

“Evenin’, Gideon,” Cassie said softly.

Lonnie studied her and saw heartache in Cassie’s blue eyes.

“Evenin’,” Gideon replied without looking at her.

Several moments of silence passed, and Cassie’s fingers grazed his elbow. “Would you mind if we talk—”

“Say, Oliver,” Gideon blurted. “That song was in G.”

Lowering her eyelashes, Cassie glanced at Lonnie and strode off.

Lonnie’s heart ached for the girl. She chewed the inside of her cheek.

When Cassie moved on, Gideon’s gaze followed her. His green eyes were troubled.

“Perhaps you should let Gideon get back to what he was doing,” Lonnie said softly. “The night is still young.”

Gideon turned to her, his eyes meeting hers for the first time. Lonnie fought a yawn, and his amusement was clear. “Not for you, I see.” Though the words teased, his tone was soft.

Her sharp intake of breath cut the yawn short, and she glanced away, embarrassed.

“I’m off myself. Good night, Lonnie.” Sarah flashed a carefully disguised wink. “Oliver.” Then Sarah nodded to the man who stood head and shoulders above her. “Good night, Gideon.”

“Miss Sarah.” He pressed his hat to his chest as she strode off. His autumn-colored hair stood on end, and he slid the hat back in place.

Lonnie watched as her aunt disappeared, thick skirts swaying. “We should start for home, Oliver.”

“Home? I’m just gettin’ started. Ain’t even had a chance to talk to Samson yet.” Oliver moved toward the makeshift stage, dodging a rowdy crowd, leaving Lonnie alone with Gideon. Oliver glanced back
over his shoulder. “Say, Lonnie, why don’t you just ask Gid to walk you home?” He vanished in a sea of shadowed faces.

Mortified, Lonnie stared at her feet. Her heart pulsed beneath her shimmy as she searched for some way to remedy her brother’s remark.

Gideon stood silent, as if he too were embarrassed. His shoulder was so near that she felt the warmth through his plaid shirt. A strap crossed his broad chest, his mandolin tucked safely against his back. When he didn’t speak, she braved a peek at his face. His expression was torn, gaze pinned on a pair of young women giggling a few paces away. His dark lashes grazed his cheeks, and he thrust his hands into his pockets. He kicked at a clump of dirt.

The banjo sounded in the distance, and Lonnie knew Oliver would soon be immersed in a midnight lesson.

“You must have somewhere to be. I’m sorry.” The words felt inadequate. Before she could muddle the situation further, Lonnie turned and hurried toward the dark edge of the clearing. The sound of music and laughter faded. Her pa would not be pleased. And she had more than a few words to say to her brother come morning. To think of passing her off to Gideon O’Riley like she was a burden to be carted home. She braved a glance back to see Gideon standing there, indecision thick in his expression. He’d made it more than clear he had better things to do. She hurried on, eager to be home. A lump rose in her throat as she rushed forward. How she wished she could crawl under the nearest wagon and disappear from sight.

Muted footfalls thumped against the hard-packed earth, and Lonnie spun to see Gideon jogging toward her.

He caught up to her and peered down. “You walking home alone,” he panted, running a palm over the back of his neck, “just doesn’t seem right.”

“Please, don’t think you have to—”

“I insist.” For the first time that night, his smile was for her alone.

His eyes bored into hers. As if his gaze could read into her heart, she glanced away.

Before Lonnie had time to think, Gideon whisked her away from the noise and lantern light. Laughter drifted away behind them, and he led her toward the cool, still quiet.

A
full moon lit the trail home. Gideon pushed a laurel branch out of the pathway, and careful not to bump against him, Lonnie ducked under the glossy green leaves.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Gideon nodded, and when she hesitated, he took the lead on the narrow path. She followed close behind, and although they walked in silence, more than one critter sprang from its snug bed in a rustle of brittle leaves.

The path widened, and their shoulders touched. Gideon glanced sideways at her. Lonnie stepped away.

“You all right?”

She felt him studying her. “Yes, thank you.” She peered at him in the dark and tried to make out the curves of his face in the moonlight. A face she had always known from afar was suddenly clearer. Only a few years younger than him, she’d often seen him in passing but never once had spoken to him. It was rumored around Rocky Knob that only the girls looking for trouble sought out Gideon O’Riley.
Is that what Cassie was doing? Looking for trouble?
Lonnie shook off the thought. Cassie had always been a sensible girl from what she knew of her.

And what about you, Lonnie?
Here she was, walking the path alone with him. Her mouth suddenly dry, Lonnie blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “I’m sorry my brother made you feel like you had to do this.”

“It’s my pleasure.” Gideon offered a smile. “Besides”—he stepped over a rock and held out his hand—“you never know who you could bump into out here alone.”

She grasped his fingers, and he helped her over. They came around the bend, and she saw the rutted surface of a makeshift bridge jutting over a small creek. She’d crossed this bridge countless times, but when Gideon’s unfamiliar hand cupped her elbow, Lonnie feared her wobbly knees might send her into the dark trickle below.

Once they were safely on the other bank, he released her. Night’s chill tickled her skin. Lonnie pressed her hands together and glanced up. He was even more handsome up close. Having grown up the shy, awkward daughter of Joel Sawyer, she’d hardly spoken to any boy, let alone the one who had mothers whispering warnings in their daughters’ ears and fathers loading shotguns.

Lonnie gulped, suddenly realizing how alone they were.

Even in the moonlight she could see the smattering of freckles across his nose and the curl of hair against the nape of his neck. When he looked at her, Lonnie dropped her gaze and studied her trudging feet. She’d never admit it to her aunt Sarah, but she suddenly understood what all the fuss was about. It seemed all her girlfriends were silly over Gideon O’Riley. When his steady hand pressed to the small of her back, she began to see why. Lonnie climbed over a stubborn stone embedded in the path. His hand fell away, and she fought the urge to look at him.

Lonnie quickened her pace, grateful he could not hear her thoughts.
The path narrowed, and he fell in step behind her. She pointed out where a fork in the trail led to her aunt’s cabin. Her refuge. “I’ll be livin’ there soon, I suppose,” she blurted, not liking the silence. “Aunt Sarah’s a soap maker. She’s gonna teach me the trade. Just the two of us.” Lonnie lifted her shoulders in a contented sigh. “I’ve gotta turn eighteen first, Pa says.” She wrinkled her nose at the thought of waiting all those months.

“Is that so?”

“Then I’ll be free.”

“Free?”

“Of my pa. Though I don’t know why he makes me wait. It’s not like he wants me around. I’m surprised he didn’t ship me off long ago.” She screwed her mouth to the side, realizing she may have said too much. If her pa got wind of her true feelings, there’d be hell to pay. Yet she could not catch her words and take them back. She wouldn’t, even if she could. It was no more than the truth. “I hope that doesn’t make me sound ungrateful.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” He winked.

They walked on.

“Almost there.” Her heavy breathing slowed her words, but she wanted to change the subject. “Home’s not far.”

Digging her toes into the hard-packed dirt, Lonnie trudged upward. More than once, she heard Gideon slip behind her. Her pa’s cabin was higher than most folks’, but having lived there her whole life, Lonnie had no more trouble climbing the steepest parts of the Blue Ridge than a mountain mule.

“Couldn’t your pa find any better land than this?” A smile carried on his voice.

“C’mon,” Lonnie teased. “I thought you were a mountain boy. Are you saying this little hill is too hard to climb?”