Be Still My Soul: The Cadence of Grace, Book 1 (37 page)

Lost in thought, Gideon fiddled with a corner of the paper. What would Lonnie do if he were to come back? Throw him out again? The thought sickened him. He’d broken her heart once; he hated to do it all over again.

Her words stuck like knives in his gut. Had she meant them? Or had she simply been frightened, overwhelmed? Pinching his eyes shut,
he tried to picture her face—a small nose dusted with freckles and brown eyes large enough to get lost in.

He placed his head in his hands. His heart ached. Eyes that seemed to peer into his soul. They had caught his attention the night he’d walked her home. Shy and quiet, her eyes lingered on anything but him. Now they condemned him to cold nights of bachelorhood and empty days spent wondering what might have been.

Tossing the blank paper aside, he pulled a crumpled envelope from his shirt pocket. He flipped it open, and Gideon thumbed over the dollar bills. He pulled several out for Jebediah, folded them, and tied a scrap of paper around the money. He scratched Jebediah’s name in tiny script. He stuffed everything into the envelope, then smoothed it closed. He scribbled across the fawn-colored paper.
Lonnie O’Riley
.

His bride.

Care of Jebediah Bennett
.

He didn’t seal the envelope, but when he looked at the waiting sheet of paper, he had no way to begin. No way to fit his entire heart onto a single piece of paper. Reaching up, he hung his coat on a nail that stuck out of his bunk and tucked the envelope safely inside a pocket. With slow movements, he folded up his faded brown pants and dropped them on the foot of the bed. He crawled beneath his blankets and faced the wall, where the glow of the moon peeked through a crack.

When he tried to sleep, he saw Lonnie’s anger-filled eyes. She hated him.
You did nothing wrong
, Gideon told himself for the hundredth time. But as always, he reminded himself of the truth.
I took that money. I did not have to take Jebediah and Elsie’s money, but I did
. Lonnie need not forgive him. He didn’t deserve it.

Yet he needed her. And his arms ached to hold his son.

Gideon struck the side of his fist against the wall, and the burn shot
up to his elbow. He despised the solitude of the bunkhouse. It made a man think too much. With his eyes open, he saw darkness. With his eyes closed, he saw faces he was supposed to forget. Staring at the boards of the bunk overhead, he realized how agonizing his life would be without Lonnie. Work would fill his days and keep his mind occupied, but it was the silence, the sleepless nights that tormented him. This was his life, for the rest of his days, until he died. This was his existence.

Unless, of course, he changed all that.

“God,” Gideon called out to the unseen listener, the name foreign on his tongue. “What am I doing?”

Silence followed.

Gideon blinked furiously, trying to remember what it was he’d seen in Lonnie. It was more than her sweetness, her goodness. He saw faith. He didn’t know what it entailed, but he knew she had always believed there was something redeemable in him. Could he not think the same?
God, show me what to do
.

Sitting up, he threw his blankets off. His heart pounded in his chest, pumping blood through his veins so fast he felt his strength return. Lonnie was out there somewhere. So was his son.

Gideon ran his hands through his hair.
You’re a fool
.

Did he care?

Clambering to his feet, he dressed, then snatched the envelope from his coat. He folded it in half and thrust it into his pocket. It seemed he never had a plan in life, and this time was no different. But it was too late to care.

His heart was no longer his.

He knew of only one truth: he needed his family. And he hoped they still needed him.

He didn’t have the right words to make Lonnie believe him, but he
knew where to find her. That alone was reason enough to try. Without her in his life, there was nothing he feared losing—not even his pride. She was more of him than the creases in his palm, the smile in his voice. She was his home, etched into his soul. And that would never change.

When first light lit the orchards and melted away the dew, Gideon confronted Tal with his request.

Tal’s pleasure was clear as he clasped Gideon’s forearm. “You’ll be missed.”

Gideon felt the truth in the man’s grip.

“Part of me wishes you’d stay on through the harvest. It’d be a shame for you to not see the fruits of your labors.”

“I agree, sir.” Gideon ran a hand over the back of his neck. “But that fruit doesn’t grow on trees.”

Tal’s laugh rang clear in the cool, still morning.

Gideon shook his head, smiling. If only Tal knew the power drawing him to Lonnie. The overwhelming need to hold her. His inability to imagine life any other way. When he glanced at the doorway and saw Mrs. Jemson standing there, he knew Tal understood that feeling.

“I better be off.” He lifted the pack beside him. It was time to lay his offenses at the feet of those he’d hurt. He was seeking from Lonnie the same peace that was beginning to come from God—redemption that made itself known in the secret spaces of his heart where his soul had once quaked but was now awash with the blessing of mercy, the gift of truth, and the promise of peace.

J
acob pulled a finger from his mouth and laid his damp hand on Lonnie’s arm. Her heart melted as she peered into the happy face of her growing son. She used the hem of her apron to wipe his chin dry and kissed the tip of his nose. The day that should have been his birthday had come and gone, and with that momentous event, Lonnie finally felt relief. Her son was out of danger.

Taking care to support his head, she lifted him from her lap and pressed him to her chest. After a few gentle pats, he let out an unapologetic burp.

“That’s my boy,” she cooed into his tiny ear.

Lonnie heaved both herself and the baby out of the rocking chair, trying her best not to disturb him. He rubbed his face against her shoulder, clearly ready for his nap. Clearing her throat, she searched her hidden vault of songs. It was a place she often turned when her son needed comforting.

He tipped his head back and let out an exhausted cry. She held his cheek close to her heart as she began to sing.

“Come, Thou Fount of every blessing, tune my heart to sing Thy
grace; streams of mercy, never ceasing, call for songs of loudest praise. Teach me some melodious sonnet, sung by flaming tongues above. Praise the mount. I’m fixed upon it, mount of Thy redeeming love.”

Jacob continued to fuss, and Lonnie pressed him to her other shoulder as she crossed the bedroom floor, bouncing him gently. His eyelids fell closed, and knowing her singing was no longer needed, she jumped to the last verse, her favorite.

Softening her voice, she sank back into the rocker.

“O that day when freed from sinning, I shall see Thy lovely face; clothed then in blood washed linen how I’ll sing Thy sovereign grace; come, my Lord, no longer tarry, take my ransomed soul away; send Thine angels now to carry me to realms of endless day.”

Her bare feet arched, and the chair rocked. Her eyes lifted to the window. The clear morning sky held promise for the last of May. She sighed.

The will of her heart and mind battled against the memory of a man’s face.

Even as she tried to fight it, past moments filled her, and she saw golden-red hair fall to the floor. A pair of strong hands plucked the strings of a poor boy’s mandolin, and the smell of cut wood and soap filled her senses as she imagined draping her arm over the man lying next to her on a brass bed.

Her feet stilled, and she turned her face from the warmth of the window only to see the memory-filled room. She blinked, fighting a battle she could not win. Lonnie shook her head. It was madness. How was one to survive a broken heart?

No
. She had more than a broken heart.

She couldn’t explain it, but peering into the dim future, she saw a
life not fully lived. The suffocating knowledge that her numbered days would be spent away from the only man she loved made the hours pass slowly, and she found her only cheer in her son’s presence.

She tried to remember that His eye was on the sparrow.

The day passed busily, but that night felt as lonely as all the others.

Worse.

Lonnie climbed beneath the covers, blew out the candle, and tucked the quilt beneath her chin. Each night was crueler than the one before. Her pain did not fade. With each setting of the sun and inevitable rising of the moon, the possibility of Gideon’s return dimmed. If he was traveling, he was getting farther away and she could do nothing to bring him back. For the past weeks she had wondered if there might have been an explanation for his actions. If she had given him the chance to explain …

Yet his innocence seemed unlikely. Still, she clung to the hope that perhaps he hadn’t gone back on his promise. Perhaps he had truly loved her and that wretched day had been a misunderstanding. Lonnie tucked her hand beneath her chin. There was nothing she could do about it now, though. There was no distance she could run. No cry loud enough to stop him from disappearing out of her life. She would beg for the chance to hear him out—fall to her knees with a waiting apology burned to her lips—but she no longer had that chance.

Lonnie lay awake, listening to Jacob’s steady breathing next to her. With no one to share the small bed, she found comfort in having him near. The grandfather clock below chimed eleven, and she closed her eyes. She had to sleep. Sleep was her only relief.

Stepping into the clearing felt familiar. Gideon paused long enough to catch his breath and long enough to take in the memories. As he stared at the moonlit frame of Jebediah’s house, the emotions of his heart made his skin tingle—his family was inside. There was nothing in this moment that was missing. Nothing except Lonnie’s face in his hands and his belated apology glinting in the tears of her eyes.

Gideon knew what he wanted for his life.

He wanted summer nights on the porch, sipping cool tea. He dreamed of fresh-baked apple pie cooling on the windowsill, made by his wife’s hand from apples he seeded. He had a debt he was determined to repay the Bennetts. Stepping forward to what he once knew as home was the easiest thing he had done in a long time.

The back door would be locked. He knew that even before he tested the latch. No one ever used the front door, and that would be locked too. He was more than willing to face Jebediah, but at the moment, knowing Lonnie and his son were so close, he couldn’t wait any longer to see them. He made his way around the side of the house and peered up to see the billow of lace curtains in spring’s midnight breeze. Dropping his pack, he hurried to the barn. He tugged the ladder away from the wall and chuckled to himself.
Jebediah won’t mind
.

Or would he? Jebediah had taken it upon himself to protect Lonnie. Gideon lowered the ladder, but only for a moment. What would Jebediah do when he found him? Gideon gripped a rung, pressing it against his shoulder. He would have to face the consequences, but he couldn’t worry about that, not now. Right now, he had a wife who was waiting for him.
Please, Lord. Let it be
.

It took all his strength to lower the heavy ladder against the side of the house without a sound. His breath was loud in his ears as he climbed toward the window without making a sound. Gideon hesitated
and swallowed, then, brushing the curtains aside, peered into a dark room.

With slow, quiet movements, he lifted one leg over and then the other. His boot touched the hardwood floor, and he pulled himself into the room.
What am I thinking?
Lonnie would wake and he would startle her. Suddenly unsure of what to do, he crouched down, and his shirt grew taut over his shoulders as he pressed palms to the floor. He should climb down and bang on the door.

But Lonnie rolled toward him, and her arm came down and gently draped over a tiny person.

Gideon had to remind himself to breathe. He stepped as close to the bed as he dared, then, falling to his knees, pulled back the corner of the quilt that obstructed his view and found himself inches away from a face that mirrored his own. A pair of rosebud lips drooped against the softest-looking cheeks he had ever seen. With a trembling hand, he reached forward.