Be Still My Soul: The Cadence of Grace, Book 1 (21 page)

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.”

G
ideon 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 offering 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.

“I have my secrets.”

She rolled her eyes and continued stacking her soap. Gideon moved to her side, and she looked up at him. “Do you need something?”

Gideon pressed a hand to the earthen wall, the soil cool to his palm. “I just thought that you might have something to say to me.”

Silence settled between them for several moments. “And what gave you that impression?” She didn’t look up.

He fingered a damp root in the wall. “Oh, I dunno,” he said dumbly, then cleared his throat. Talking to girls had always been easy. Until Lonnie. “It’s just that you haven’t said more than a few words lately, and I figured I’d clear the air.”

She kept her eyes on her work. “Clear the air of what?”

“Well, er … of any problems.”

She let out a soft grunt. “That so?” She straightened another row of soap, and her eyes finally met his. “Where would you like to begin?”

“I … uh, wanted to make sure you knew that I was sorry. For leaving like that.”

“I know you’re sorry.”

“You do?”

She drew in a slow breath. “You said you were.”

“Right.” He scratched his head. “So then why are you still mad at me?”

“Didn’t know I was mad.”

“Is this your way of saying you like me, then?”

“Hardly.” Lonnie wiped her hands on her apron. “Gideon.” She shifted her weight. “I’m not mad at you. And I appreciate that you’re sorry. Really, I do. But …” Her eyes scanned the earth ceiling. Lantern light danced across her face. “It’s like that story from the Bible.” She
lifted a basket from the ground and slid the handle over the crook of her arm. “When is a thief no longer a thief?”

“I dunno.” He tugged at the patch of hair beneath his lip. “When they stop stealin’, I suppose.”

“Not quite.” She fingered the handle of the basket. “It says they’re no longer a thief when they stop stealin’ and do something useful for others. Like plant a field and give food to the poor.”

“You want me to plant a field?”

“This is why I don’t talk to you.” She moved to leave.

“Wait.” He touched her elbow, then pulled back. “I want to understand.” He rubbed his hands together. “Really, I do.”

Her face softened. “When you say you’re sorry for all that you’ve done, that’s nice and all, but it will mean more to me when the change runs deeper than that.”

“Deeper.”

She nodded. “Bein’ sorry is just not enough.” She picked up a jar of green beans and tucked it in her basket. Her eyes scanned the shelf, and she pulled several potatoes from a low crate. Gideon watched her movements as if from a distance, a destination he could never reach.

Couldn’t, or didn’t want to?

In an instant, he wondered if he could undo all the damage he had done. Perhaps in time. But did he want to? His eyes fell to her stomach. Another mouth to feed. That’s all a baby was. Wasn’t that the way his ma had put it? Wasn’t that what he was to his family? He watched Lonnie work, her movements slow. Why should his new family be any different? Whether or not Lonnie saw this child as a good thing, he saw it for what it was.

Lonnie crouched, her knees jutting up against her dress. Her braid
fell over her shoulder. He suddenly wanted to feel the end curled around his finger. Gideon found himself unable to look away. The lantern light flickered.

Did he want her to hate him? He deserved it. After all he’d done, there was no question about it. The severity of the situation struck him, and he tugged at his hair. Surely there had to be some way to smooth this over. Some way to buy himself time until she could better understand what was truly at hand. Maybe it was just Lonnie Sawyer. But she was awful pretty. And when she looked at him with that glint in her eyes, like she knew something about him that he did not, he felt drawn to her in the strangest of ways. He had no name for what she evoked in him. But he had never experienced it before. The feeling belonged to her and her alone.

He stared at her. His chances were running out—if they weren’t already gone.

With her hand on the ladder, Lonnie started up. One push on the door and the cellar would fill with light. She would step outside, and he’d still be standing there with his mouth half open. His eyes caught her every move.

“Lonnie,” he whispered.

“Hmm,” she hummed as she continued to climb. She took hold of the latch and lifted.

“Lonnie, wait.” In as much time as it took for him to speak, he climbed the ladder. The old wood creaked beneath their weight.

The cellar door slammed closed. “Gid, what are you doing?”

He slid one arm around her and grabbed the ladder with the other. With his feet one rung below hers, their faces nearly touched.

“Gid—” Her braid slid from her shoulder when she turned to face him.

The wicker basket poked him in the ribs, and in one final attempt to make any sense out of his actions, he kissed her.

Her lips moved beneath his. “Gid, what are you doing?”

He pulled back.

Still wrapped in his grasp, she made no move to climb away. Her calmness stunned him, and she simply stared, confusion etched in her face.

“I’m sorry.” Gideon lowered his head and climbed down.
You fool
.

The ladder became Lonnie’s again.

“Don’t let me keep you.” He thrust his hands into his pockets, barely able to look at her. He heard her hesitate, but without a word, she released a sigh, climbed into the sunlight, and was gone.

Sinking against the ladder, Gideon dropped his head in his hands. What was he thinking? She didn’t love him. And why should she? He didn’t love her. Gideon snatched the lantern up and extinguished the light.

L
onnie’s hem brushed along dried leaves as she scavenged for chestnuts. Crouched in the underbrush at her side, Gideon blew on his hands, and puffs of white air escaped through his fingers. He rubbed his palms together, but by the look on his face, he found no relief from the cold October morning. He shifted his legs, head low, and seemed to study something in the distance.

Lonnie peered past a dead spruce, the brittle needles copper. Less than a stone’s throw away, a hog dropped his face to the ground and rummaged through fallen leaves. They hadn’t come to hunt, but Gideon watched it.

“Hey, whatcha doin’ over there?” Jebediah stood and tossed a handful of nuts into a bag. “You takin’ a break or something?”

“He’s just cold,” Lonnie teased. She slid her sack forward.

Gideon nabbed a chestnut. “I was thinkin’ how I wished I had a gun.”

Jebediah followed his line of sight, then his gray mustache tilted upward. “Hungry?”

“Not exactly.”

Clearly unconvinced, Jebediah chuckled.

Lonnie leaned forward, and her knees dug into the cold, wet ground, dampening her dress. Beside her, Gideon picked up three nuts, rolled them around his palm, then dropped them into the sack at her side.

“Are you doing that on purpose?”

“Sorry?” He looked up, half distracted.

“Yours is nearly empty.” She clutched the rough fabric of her sack and made a show of its heft.

His eyebrows fell.

When she motioned to the empty, limp bag behind him, she couldn’t help but let out a laugh. “You’ve been doing it for the last half hour. Not that it bothers me, mind you.” An icy wind tickled her cheeks, and she brushed wisps of hair away from her face. “But I do feel a little guilty taking all the credit.”

“Oh.” He shook his head, then glanced around.

“Gathering nuts must not be your favorite chore.”

His mouth tipped up on one side, green eyes softening as he studied her. “No, I wouldn’t say that it is.” He snatched the empty bag from behind him and tossed several nuts inside. “I’m more of a field planter.”

She elbowed him.

He smirked.

Lonnie gathered up her own handful and added them to his pitiful stash. When surprise registered in his face, she blushed. “Only seems fair.”

The other half of his grin filled out, softening the face of stone she’d come to know. “Does this mean I get a second chance?”

“Second?” She clicked her tongue. “I think it would be more like chance number twelve.”

He winced and his smile faltered.

“Chance for what?” she added, seeing that for once he was
trying
to make an effort. “To prove that you’re not a total brute?”

He stared at the ground a moment. “I haven’t done a good job of being anything else, I s’pose.” His face was pained.

For a moment, hope stirred inside her. Then her eyes moved to his hand. Her heart seemed to slow.

As soon as his smile dented his cheeks, it faded. Pressing a palm to the tree, he pushed himself to a stand. Lonnie glanced up at him and blinked into the low sun, unable to speak.

“Lonnie.” His hair caught the light that filtered through the trees. He flexed his fist and then tucked his hand just out of sight. Hiding his bare ring finger. “For what it’s worth …” His voice fell to a near whisper. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He glanced down at her as if to say something more. Instead, he motioned to a nearby spot. “I think there’s more over here.” He strode off.

Shoulders back, Lonnie slowly worked her way around the base of the tree. Leaves clung to her skirt. When her eyes stung, she blinked quickly.
It’s just a ring. Just a token
, she told herself. But the ache still ran deep. And judging by the guilt etched in Gideon’s features, she almost believed him. Almost.