Be Still My Soul: The Cadence of Grace, Book 1 (3 page)

“Yes,” Gideon chuckled between breaths. His laughter fell to a mumble. “Better be worth it.”

The air cooled as they rose. Lonnie rubbed her arms.

Gideon hurried to catch up with her, walking closer than necessary now that the path had opened. “So where is the top of this mountain of yours?” The back of his hand grazed hers.

“Right there.” Lonnie paused and pointed. “That’s as far as I go.” Breathless, her chest heaved.

A small cabin stood quiet and humble on the hillside. Its rough timber and warped windowsills told of a harsh life. A candle flickered in the window, giving off the only light to be seen. Lonnie knew her ma had placed it there so she could see when she got home. She remembered just how late it was. Surely her family had long gone to bed.

A night owl hooted.

Gideon shoved his hands in his pockets. “I suppose this is where we part ways.”

Lonnie studied him. It struck her how far he had come. Here she was worried that she had arrived home too late, and he had another hour of walking yet to do.

“Gideon.” She turned toward her house, then paused, uncertain. “Thank you for walking me home. It was awful nice. You better hurry on if you want to beat the sunrise.”

He tilted his head toward the stars.

Lonnie shook her head at the thought of the early morning glow lighting his way home. “I’m sorry I live so far. You shouldn’t have walked me.”

As if the pull of her words had tied a string to his heart, he looked
at her. He stepped forward, confidence squaring his jaw. “It wasn’t as much trouble as you might think.”

Lonnie rubbed her palms together. “I better get inside. Ma will be worried.”

Gideon didn’t look at her as he spoke. “Don’t a fella get a good-night kiss? I mean … you do live pretty far.”

Her breath caught. She had never kissed a boy before. Her ma always said kissing was for married folk. “Well, I don’t know.” She turned away and stared at the lone flame that beckoned, and she wished someone would wake and call her inside. Her hesitation spoke what she could not.

“I see. Good night, Lonnie.” He looked at her cabin before turning. He started back down the path.

Torn, Lonnie glanced back at the man who’d come so far—just for her. She’d always disappeared in a crowd, but not this night, not with Gideon at her side, smiling down on her as no man ever had. “Gideon, wait.” She ran to catch up with him.

One kiss might not be so bad. Not for the man who’d promised to keep her secret.

Lonnie blurted out the words before she could change her mind. “You can kiss me good night. If you want to.”

Gideon stepped toward her, closing the gap in three long strides. Her heart jumped, and she feared he would hear. She smoothed her dress and folded her hands, as if a nice appearance would affect his answer.

He leaned forward, and cool lips touched hers. Like the brush of a feather, Lonnie could feel his wide-brimmed hat covering her face, hiding their kiss from the stars.

A few moments passed, and she tried to pull away, but Gideon slipped his hand behind her and drew her closer. The taste of corn liquor was bitter on his lips. With his other hand, he clutched at her dress, lifting it above her knee. His fingers traced her flesh like a spider’s spindly legs. Lonnie gripped his hand, but the strength there was impossible.

“Stop.” She ground out the word.

A groan, like the sound of an old bear, came from the back of his throat, striking a chord of fear in her unlike any she had ever known.

When he nestled his mouth in the crook of her neck, chills shot through her. Lonnie squirmed. She pushed against him with one hand and kept the other locked around his, lest it go where it wanted. If she screamed, her pa would stumble onto the porch in two heartbeats—shotgun in hand.

But her innocence would be hard to prove.

Gideon leaned into her, nearly crushing her with his hold. Fear sped her breath and her head spun. Desperate, Lonnie did the only thing she could think of.

“Gid, stop!” she yelled as loudly as she dared. With all her strength behind it, her fist crashed against his jaw. Gideon stumbled back, his eyes unfocused, as if still stuck in a dream. Lonnie snatched up a mound of dirt and hurled it at him. It shattered against his chest.

Still panting, his eyes narrowed into slits. “What’d ya go and do that for?” Turning his head, he spat a few drops of blood. He rubbed his jaw and glared at her.

With a wave of fiery tears building inside her, Lonnie turned and ran up the pathway to the steps. She brushed a wrist over her eyes before she halted and turned. “If I didn’t know any better …” Her vision
blurred and she shook her head. “I trusted you.” She climbed the steps and slipped inside the door without making a sound. How could she have been so foolish?

She stepped to the window, the glass cold in the snug room. Cupping the flame with her palm, she puffed it out. From the darkened room, she watched Gideon straighten the strap over his chest and felt his gaze on the window. He turned and disappeared into the trees.

“Is that you, Lonnie?”

Lonnie dropped the curtain, shutting out the moonlight. A set of small, shining eyes looked up at her.

“Go back to sleep, Addie, baby. It’s just me.” Lonnie hung her sweater over the chair, then slipped out of her dress. The wood floor was smooth beneath her bare feet as she stepped toward the bed. She slipped beneath the covers with her little sister and pulled up the worn quilt. She slid as close to Addie as she could, draped her arm over her sister, and closed her eyes.

Still on the edge of slumber, the four-year-old mumbled, “You’re cold.”

“I know. I’m sorry. Go back to sleep, baby.” But Lonnie lay there wide-eyed.

Images assaulted her.

She could still feel Gideon’s jaw beneath her hand, see his bloody lip. She could still feel his fingers crawling on her skin. Cold lips touching her flesh. Lonnie shivered. Her ma had told her to never lead the boys to thinking things. Lonnie’s eyebrows pulled together, but she shook her head. She hadn’t led him on. But she certainly never should have kissed him.

With Sid snoring like a bear in the lean-to, her parents nestled behind their closed door, and Oliver yet to come home, gratitude coursed
through her that her family hadn’t seen what happened. Lonnie buried her face in her sister’s hair and forced her eyes closed.

She felt violated. Worse. She felt sinful. Her chin trembled. God knew the truth. Lonnie stared at the mantel clock, ticking away the late hour. If only turning back time were as easy as cranking the key. Her stomach dropped and churned. The grabbing and the touching—a shudder passed through her.

Lonnie pulled her pillow close, sank her face into the feathers, and let out a shaky breath. The back of her throat burned. She looked at Addie’s baby-soft cheeks, so full and plump. Such innocence. A tear slipped down Lonnie’s cheek and onto her pillow. If only she could turn back time and be as naive as Addie. As naive as she had been yesterday.

G
ideon lifted his head when sunlight glinted through the glass above his bed. With one eye cracked open, he glanced around. The room was a blur of light, and he saw that his brothers were already up. Dropping his head to the mattress, he moaned. His head hurt. Or was it his jaw? He hadn’t had that much to drink the night before.

Images moved through his mind as memories unfolded. He rolled onto his side and ran a hot hand over his eyes. Something about Cassie. In his mind, he could see her full cheeks and rosebud lips. She was there last night. Wasn’t she? Or was it Lonnie? The one with the freckled nose. The one who never seemed to meet his gaze. Joel Sawyer’s oldest girl. Gideon blinked his eyes open. He stared up at the ceiling.

That’s right. It was Lonnie.

He rubbed his jaw and winced when the skin beneath his fingers throbbed. No girl had ever hit him. Gideon licked his lips. The taste of blood on his tongue was more than a memory. He sat up, his head spinning, and lumbered to the mirror that hung at an odd angle on the far wall. He peered into the dust-streaked glass and saw a split in his lower lip where a smear of crimson blood had long since dried. He licked his thumb and rubbed it away. The pain intensified.

“Why, that little …” Gideon shook his head even as he stumbled back to bed. He wasn’t ready to face the day. “Hadn’t even been worth it,” he mumbled into the mattress when he collapsed. His frame was too long for the rickety bed.

He knew he should get up and get to work. He had a rocking chair to finish for Old Man Tate, but his head was pulsing and he’d probably just end up cutting off a finger or doing something stupid. His stomach grumbled, and although the smell of bacon wafted heavy from the other side of the door, the sun was warm on his back, and he gave in to the pull of sleep.

Lonnie stepped over a pair of rocks and knelt at the water’s edge, being careful not to slip on the wet maple leaves gathered there. She tipped her bucket, breaking the surface of the sleeping pool, and cool liquid rushed over galvanized metal. After heaving the bucket onto the bank, she climbed out of the creek bed, her bare knees sinking into the moist earth. With a day’s worth of chores yet to be done, there was no time to dawdle.

She dashed across the yard, and with a glance over her shoulder, she spotted her younger brothers in the distance just as she reached the bottom step. Their hammers split the silence of the quiet mountain morning. Backs hunched, Sid and Oliver pieced together the fragments of a busted fence.

Her bucket sloshed as she trudged up the stairs, and when she slipped inside, the warm air, infused with the smell of fresh-baked bread, greeted her. Before she could set down the bucket, her ma handed her a clump of lye soap.

Her ma wiped her hands on her apron. “Addie, run outside and fetch your sister some sand.” With a busy day of work ahead, she panted out the order.

Lips pushed into a pout, the four-year-old slid off the rocking chair and went to the door.

“Take this.” Maggie handed her a cracked pie pan.

When she heard her sister lumbering down the steps, Lonnie glanced at her ma. Did she suspect anything? Her ma’s weathered complexion revealed nothing but a focus on the day ahead.

Lonnie sank to the floor. Her gingham work dress barely reached past her knees, but she pulled it up to keep water from soaking the dark gray hem. She dipped a rough brush in the water, and soon the scratchy sound of bristles on planks filled the cabin. When Addie returned with the creek sand, Lonnie sprinkled it over the floor, careful to get under the table. Addie watched from the rocker, her grubby feet dangling high off the floor.

Lonnie wiped away beads of sweat along her hairline. As she worked, the door opened and slammed more times than she cared to count. Each time one of her brothers tried to come inside, Lonnie was quick to stop him. Their dramatic groans were enough to make her chuckle, but she cringed at the thought of muddy boots tramping across the wet, clean floor.

A song kept her spirits up and her arms in quick rhythm. Her ma didn’t like scrubbing floors. She disliked making soap even more. Every few weeks, Aunt Sarah sent Lonnie home with a new bundle. As Lonnie scrubbed, the suds were clean and fragrant. After giving the floor a good rinse, she set the scrub brush aside. She swabbed up what sand she could and swept away the rest. Sitting back, she admired her work, then stretched her neck from side to side.

Her satisfaction fled behind familiar storm clouds when the sound of heavy boots thundered up the porch steps. The door flew open, and her pa plodded into the cabin. Lonnie glanced to the floor as mucky footprints circled the table, and she rose. She brushed her dress smooth. His glare pierced her, and Lonnie’s heart sank.

He tugged a chair out, scraping it across the wood planks. Her ma snatched a tin mug from the counter and hurried to the coffeepot. Lonnie backed toward the door.

“Where do you think you’re going, young lady?” His tone was a brick wall. She froze. Her hand clutched the latch.

He knows
.

“Where were you last night?”

She forced her voice steady. “Gideon walked me home.”

Her pa scratched his hairy jaw. “That’s what Oliver said.” Yellowed eyes narrowed. “What took so long?”

Lonnie opened her mouth. “I … uh.” She shot a needy look to her ma, but Maggie’s shoulders sagged. “Gideon’s a slow walker.” It was mostly true. “He could hardly keep up.”

The chair crashed into the wall behind him.

Addie shrieked and Lonnie jumped.

“Don’t you tell lies to me, girl!” He stumbled around the table and grabbed Lonnie’s arm.

“I didn’t do—”

“You’re a liar.” The condemnation reeked of moonshine and coffee.

When Maggie sank against the wall, Lonnie fought back tears lest they spring up to betray her.

“You were with that boy. I seen ya out there.” His grip tightened. Grimy fingernails dug into her flesh. “You disgust me.”

A single tear trickled past her resolve.

“You’re seventeen years old … and out there with that boy like that.” He yanked her arm, and Lonnie fought a yelp. “I saw him crawlin’ all over you.” His lips quivered. “I knew you was good for nothing.” He tossed a glare in Maggie’s direction. “I know right where you got it from.”