Be Still My Soul: The Cadence of Grace, Book 1 (22 page)

Though she could not see Jebediah and Elsie, she heard their voices and knew they were gathering just beyond a stand of young oaks. More than once her name floated by on the breeze, spoken in Elsie’s tender voice. Lonnie was curious to know what the older couple thought of them, but in truth, she knew, for with each passing day, the Bennetts continued to welcome them. Lonnie had never found two kinder souls.

Her fingers rummaged through twigs and brittle leaves. Little by little, the rough sack filled out.

“You about done?” Gideon asked from behind.

Her eyes didn’t meet his. “I’d say so.” She sank back on her heels. She started to stand, her legs stiff and nearly numb.

When she wobbled, Gideon cupped her elbow, only to pull away just as quickly. He heaved his bag over his shoulder, and the small nuts clicked against his back. Her feet tingled as the feeling returned. With a soft grunt, she dragged her bag away from the tree. The heavy load left a trail in the dirt. She gripped the coarse fabric, intending to swing it up to her shoulder as Gideon had done. But before she could, he wrapped his hand just below hers. Surprised, Lonnie watched as he ducked one shoulder, swinging the bag up in the same motion.

Her lips rounded in silent surprise. “I can carry it.”

He blinked down at her. “This bag’s heavier than you. Besides, you shouldn’t be carryin’ things like this.” His gaze flicked to the middle of her apron, his expression guarded.

“We better meet up with Jeb and Elsie,” she blurted out and motioned to where she’d heard them.

She spotted Elsie a few paces off, raking fingers through a pile of leaves.

“You two are done already?” Elsie tipped her face back, eyes dancing between them. Without looking down, she dropped a few nuts into her sack.

Gideon let the bags fall off his shoulder and jingle to the ground. He opened the mouth of one. “I’d bet between us all we have five bushels just this morning. With four dollars a bushel they’re takin’, that’s a good bit of money.” He tapped the arithmetic out on his fingers, but the sum never formed on his lips. He cleared his throat, the skin beneath his freckles reddening. Lonnie pretended not to notice.

“Where’s Jebediah?” he asked, changing the subject.

Elsie pointed to a shallow bank. “He took off in that direction. That man’s like a wild turkey the way he hunts these woods for chestnuts.”

“If I’m a turkey,” Jebediah said, stepping out from behind a tree, “then that must make you a ’coon, ’cause I bet you like ’em just as much as I do.” He pushed his patched-up wheelbarrow, loaded with Elsie’s galvanized washtub full of golden-brown nuts.

With her hands on her hips, Elsie shook her head. “Come on, let’s go home and roast some of these.” She patted Lonnie’s arm. “We’ll see if your baby likes its first chestnut.”

Lonnie dropped her gaze to her belly, amazed at how quickly it was growing. When she realized Gideon was watching her, she simply smoothed the fabric. His words from the other day echoed in her mind … 
It doesn’t mean I’ll love it
.

With a few grunts, Jebediah turned his wheelbarrow and started for home. Elsie fell in step with him. Gideon stood beside her, as if waiting. Lonnie strode forward, their elbows bumping. His pace fell in sync with her own. Lonnie was careful not to rush. She could only begin to guess the weight of the sacks that burdened his back. Neither of them spoke. Lonnie didn’t know what to say. Not after the way Gideon had acted in the cellar. She could still feel his lips against hers, see the determination in his eyes before he’d kissed her. As if something had awakened inside of him. Something that ran deeper than desire.

Lord, let it be so
.

G
ideon tossed the chisel to the floor with a muffled
thud
. He ran his hand across the wood. Rough and misshapen. Nowhere near smooth enough. He picked up a piece of sandpaper, and it
swished
as he passed it across the surface. His tongue stuck to the corner of his mouth in concentration. He wasn’t much for numbers and letters, but he knew how to work wood. Measuring sticks and fractions got lost inside his head. The breadth of his hand, the length of his arm, and a picky eye served as sufficient tools.

He smoothed his thumb along the red maple. Not there yet. He was doing this project only out of necessity, but it should still be done well. Gideon twisted his mouth to the side and picked up his chisel.

He heard voices from the house and looked through the barn doorway in time to see Lonnie crossing the yard. She had a lunchpail in one hand and a cup in the other. Her dress was taut across her waist as she swung the pail back and forth. Her lips moved as if in song. Jumping up, he slid the heavy piece behind a stack of old crates and yanked a canvas over the top. He darted away and plunked down on a stool. His heart pounded as he picked up his pocketknife and dug into a soft piece of spruce.

He looked up from his work when she strode in. “Whatcha got there?” He set his whittling down, hoping his act was enough to distract her.

“Your dinner.” Lonnie slid the offering onto the workbench.

Gideon knew Jebediah was inside eating his own dinner. There was no need for Lonnie to pack him a lunch. He watched as she arranged the food in front of him. Elsie could have hollered for him when it was ready, and he would have come. The corner of his mouth turned up.

Lonnie tucked her hands behind her back. Now in her third month, the calico pinched and puckered at her waist, and each night she labored over the workings of a new dress while loosening the seams in her old ones. Gideon realized just how quickly time passed. Was spring really just around the corner? Lost in thought, he forgot he was still staring. “What did you bring me?” He reached for the pail.

“Elsie’s rabbit stew. Thanks to you.” She smiled. “Cornbread, milk, and”—using two fingers, she lifted the corner of a cloth with dramatic movements—“a slice of fried apple pie.”

He couldn’t help but grin. “Sounds like a feast.”

He unwrapped the cornbread first and licked apple butter off his fingers. He took a bite and washed it down with sweet milk. “Good,” he said, lifting the golden square. He took another bite and realized Lonnie was not eating. “Aren’t you hungry?”

She shook her head. “I ate inside with Elsie. We waited for you to come, but the time must have gotten away from you.” She scrunched up her freckled nose and rubbed at an itch. Gideon pulled his handkerchief from his pocket to offer her.

“No, thanks,” she said. “Just the cold, that’s all.”

Without bothering to fold it, he stuffed the white cloth back in his pocket, then propped a foot on the stool rung.

Lonnie pinched wood shavings between her fingers. “Elsie says there’s a wedding comin’ up.”

The last of the cornbread vanished inside his mouth. “Did you want to go?” he mumbled and brushed his hands together.

She shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “I’d like to. It’d be nice to meet some of the folks around here.”

He wasn’t much for getting dressed up. Hated the idea of a stiff shirt and tie. But Lonnie’s eyes were bright, and he had a mind to show her that there was indeed a civilized bone in his body. Gideon lifted a spoonful of stew to his lips and stilled, his eyes on his wife. “Then we’ll go.”

Surprise registered in her face. “Elsie said it’s in a few days.” Her voice brightened.

“All right.” He watched her and realized they were truly speaking again. He suddenly felt compelled to say more. “Do you want to sit down?”

When she nodded, he snatched a short stool from the corner, then steadied it as she sat. Her knees poked up, revealing a hole in her stocking. He realized he was staring again—a habit he’d developed around her. He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his food.

He tipped the bowl to his lips and drank the broth. “That was good. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She reached for the bowl, but he tucked it inside the pail along with the rest of his dirty dishes.

“You don’t need to clean up after me. I can take this inside.”

“I don’t mind.” She reached for the pail. “I’m not exactly bedridden.” Her eyes sparkled.

His mouth tipped in a lopsided grin. “Then thank you.”

She hooked her finger beneath the pail handle, and their hands touched. He watched her for a reaction. Her eyes were warm—the sight trickling through his every limb. He swallowed, suddenly realizing the effect he had on her. His mind drifted to the day Jebediah had found him. Had he really been that monster? Gideon studied his boots as shame made his cheeks tingle.

She touched his arm, drawing him from his thoughts. “What are you thinking?”

He lifted his gaze. After all that, here she stood.

The realization baffled him, but he forced his brow to unfold. “Nothing.” He glanced to the open doorway, where tiny specks of white floated down. “Lonnie.” He pointed. “Look.”

Her chin brushed her shoulder when she peered behind her. He heard her gasp. “Would you look at that?”

“C’mon. It’s too cold for you out here.” He grabbed his jacket off the workbench and, with her still seated on the little stool, draped it over her shoulders.

“Won’t you be cold?” she asked, even as she slipped her fingertips into the flannel-lined pockets.

“Nah. I’m fine. Let’s go inside.” Without thinking, he held his hand out to her.

She hesitated, blinking quickly. She slipped her hand inside his, and he helped her stand. He released her fingers as gently as he could, but the foreign sensation lingered on his skin. They walked back to the house side by side, and when their arms brushed, Gideon offered her more space. He had no idea how to act around her anymore.

It wasn’t in him to follow through. Never had been. How could he
make this time different? The scent of cinnamon lifted from her flour-dusted apron when she stepped too close. He gulped at the thought of failing.

Snow fell in a whisper around them, and the November breeze tousled his cotton shirt, but Gideon felt none of it. He opened the door for Lonnie, and they stepped into the warm kitchen, fragrant with the scent of fried apple pie.

Elsie dropped diced carrots into a pot and wiped her hands on her apron. “Well, aren’t you a pair, all bundled up.”

“Gid sure ain’t.” Lonnie squeezed his arm. “Go and sit by the fire.”

He enjoyed her touch too much to argue.

Jebediah burst in. “Wanna lend me a hand?” he panted. “These wives of ours want to take a bath again. I got the washtub set up in your room already. I just need help haulin’ water
upstairs
.”

Lonnie ducked her head. “I’m sorry. I don’t have to—”

“Jebediah Bennett!” Elsie shook her wooden spoon at him, but her eyes sparkled with mischief. “How dare you. Lonnie is our guest.”

Jebediah chuckled. “Now, now. Don’t get your feathers all ruffled. I was just teasin’ her. Really, Lonnie, I don’t mind.” With his palms up, he backed onto the porch. “You were probably used to takin’ a bath every Saturday, before church back home.”

Lonnie nodded, and Jebediah smiled. Gideon watched the exchange, knowing full well the Bennetts did not attend church. It was too far for them to walk, and they had no wagon.

“Are you sure?” Lonnie asked again.

The old man tipped Elsie’s chin. “I just like to get my wife all fired up sometimes.”

Elsie stopped stirring to put her hands on her hips, and broth dripped
from her wooden spoon onto her apron. It took only one look from Elsie and, still grinning, Jebediah left. Lonnie handed Gideon his jacket, and he followed the older man outside.

Jebediah’s gray beard grazed his plaid collar. “You know I don’t really mind, right?”

“I know.”

They strode shoulder to shoulder, and Jebediah flicked his thumb back to the house. “That’s what women are for, I suppose. Keeping us busy.”

“Always needin’ something.”

“Who you foolin’?”

“Sir?”

“I’ve watched you with her lately. I’d say you don’t mind half as much as you’re lettin’ on.”

Gideon’s throat worked. He glanced toward the house, feeling colder, and knew it wasn’t just the loss of the fire.

A
lone fiddle played as a crisp breeze swept into the old barn. The preacher turned toward the groom, the smile on his wrinkled face a clear symbol that he was pleased with the match. The music faded.

Lonnie’s hand rested beside Gideon’s, their fingers almost touching. She blinked back tears. She tilted her gaze to the heavy beams supporting the barn roof and willed her eyes to dry. Sniffling, she savored the sweet smell of straw that filled the giant building. The bride, wearing a dress the color of creamy columbine, stood beside her groom, her smile radiant as she looked into the face of the man she loved. Lonnie wiped her nose with her handkerchief.

She saw joy. Pure, unbridled joy in the young woman’s face.

Lonnie remembered the morning she had given Gideon her own vow. Her tears had not been happy. She wiggled her fingers absent-mindedly. His head dipped, hand hesitating against hers, before he clasped his hands in front of him and leaned forward. Lonnie folded her hands in her lap, and the tin ring warmed. She did not need to look at Gideon’s hand to know his was long gone. The ache in her chest grew, and she turned her attention back to the wedding. How lucky to
be so full of joy on one’s wedding day. Her chest burned as she drew in a ragged breath and fought to hold her emotions in check.

Hanging his head, Gideon’s back lifted as he sighed. Lonnie wished she could read his mind. Wished she could better understand the man who sat beside her.

When the bride’s mother dabbed her nose with a lace-edged handkerchief, the sight made Lonnie think of her own mother, and she tore her gaze away. An ache rose deep in her chest. Brushing her wrist against her stomach, she heaved out a shaky sigh.

What she wouldn’t give to see her ma. Hear her voice. How she longed to visit with her aunt Sarah. Whisper her deepest desires.

She longed to be loved.

Lonnie inched closer to Gideon. He didn’t budge, and his shoulder warmed hers. A tear slipped from her cheek, and Lonnie hurried to wipe it away. Gideon traced slow circles on the back of his hand.