Be Still My Soul: The Cadence of Grace, Book 1 (4 page)

“Pa,” Lonnie cried, finally finding her voice even as tears came. With a gasp, she twisted her wrist. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Did you know this, Mama?” Joel turned to his wife. “Your oldest girl was out there last night … bein’
friendly
with the
O’Riley
boy.” His eyes stabbed Lonnie’s. “I’m sure it wasn’t the first time.”

“What boy?” her ma asked, her tone cool, meant to pacify.

“The oldest.” His voice dripped with disdain. “The troublemaker.”

Lonnie managed to pull free and dove toward the door. Before she could reach the latch, a hand grabbed the end of her hair. With a scream, she fell to her knees. Addie burst into tears.

Her pa stepped around the table and crouched behind Lonnie. He grasped her stomach and clenched the flesh with his fingernails.

“Joel, please,” Maggie cried as she stepped forward. Her hand trembled when it touched his shoulder.

He batted her away but released Lonnie. “Your daughter’s soiled, Maggie. I’d bet my life on it.” He spat as he spoke.

“Should I hold you to that?” Lonnie mumbled, almost soundlessly.

“Don’t sass me, girl!” He pulled her to her feet.

The smell of day-old moonshine made her stomach turn. He pushed her aside, and Lonnie slipped on the wet floor as she tried to stand. Muddy streaks marked his trail out, and he slammed the door behind him.

Addie’s crying faded into a whimper.

“I’m so sorry, Lonnie.” Her ma stepped toward her. “Your pa … he didn’t mean it.”

Lonnie stared at her feet, a wave of disappointment rising inside her.
What did you expect?
Her ma had never stood up to her pa. Lonnie forced herself to glance up.
Why would she start now?

“I know how you feel, baby doll. Your pa, he ain’t got a lot of patience sometimes.”

Lonnie wanted to plug her ears and shut out her mother’s words. She wanted to shut it all out. Even Addie’s crying tugged at her nerves. Still trembling, Lonnie glanced out the window. Everyone in her life had let her down. All except for one.

Her mother’s hand was soft on her shoulder. “Lonnie.” Her brown eyes held a sorrow, a regret that Lonnie couldn’t begin to fathom. “I wish it wasn’t this way.” A broken heart spilled into her voice.

Lonnie walked over to Addie and flung her little sister up on her hip even as she willed her words to be calm. “We’re going to Sarah’s.”

L
onnie hurried down the front steps and strode behind the house. She glanced around the farm for signs of her pa and hugged Addie tighter as she hurried out of sight.

“Where we going?” Addie wrapped her little arms around Lonnie’s neck.

“We’re going to see Aunt Sarah. Won’t that be fun?”

Addie’s soft nod held none of its usual cheer as she pressed her cheek to Lonnie’s shoulder. Lonnie bounced her sister higher up on her hip. She was four now and almost too big to carry, but it was a long walk and Addie hadn’t asked to come. Lonnie could no more leave her sister home alone than she could toss a chickadee toward a rising storm.

Lonnie stepped lightly through the fallen leaves. Neither of them spoke. She’d walked this path countless times. Ever since the day her pa had slapped the first bruise onto her cheek. She had only been six. Sarah had held her on her lap, both of them weeping. That night, by the light of the fire, Sarah had read from the psalms. Two weeks later when Lonnie returned, Sarah had read another. They’d gone through the book once already and were now on their second time around. Lonnie could
almost mark the days of her life by those verses. And with each passing year, she continued to cling to the hope that the end was in sight.

When her arms ached, Lonnie set her sister down.

“Can you walk for a while, baby?”

With her thumb in her mouth, Addie lifted her other hand. Lonnie took her sister’s tiny fingers and held them as they followed the path to their aunt’s cabin. The sight of rising smoke warmed her.

She pointed. “We’re almost there. See?”

Soon enough, their bare feet padded lightly on the porch. The scent of nutmeg carried on the air.

Sarah looked through the window. “Come on in, girls.”

Careful to tuck her aching wrist behind her back, Lonnie opened the door and led her sister in. “We weren’t plannin’ on coming. Just seemed like a good day for a visit.”

Addie took her thumb out and started to protest, but Lonnie shook her head. Sarah watched the exchange, her face soft. Lonnie supposed there was no point in trying to conceal the matter from her.

“Your pa?” Sarah mouthed the words.

When a fresh tear betrayed her, Lonnie dragged her sleeve across her cheeks. Sarah’s eyes widened, and Lonnie lowered her wrist, tugging her sleeve down as she did.

Anger flicked through Sarah’s expression, then faded. “I was just about to make up some biscuits. And I’ve got honey and jam. Won’t that be a nice dinner?” Sarah pulled a jar of preserves from the cupboard and watched with warm eyes as Addie took the offering.

Lonnie smiled.

A hymn lifted from her lips as Sarah beat milk into a flour mixture with a large whisk. Lonnie formed the biscuits, snuggling them together
in a greased cast-iron pan. She always liked hearing her aunt sing. It sounded so much like her ma. But apart from Sunday mornings, Maggie Sawyer didn’t sing much these days. Never at home. Lonnie knew why. Singing was for showing joy.

And that was scarce these days.

Lonnie slid the biscuits into the oven. She sank into the maple rocker that had once belonged to her grandmother and read Addie a story. Sarah bustled around the kitchen, stepping out long enough to tote away the slop bucket before returning with a satisfied sigh.

They ate their sticky dinner on the front porch with the late-afternoon breeze soothing fingers too impatient to wait for cool biscuits. As Lonnie stacked plates, Sarah brought out a tin of cards and, insisting the dishes could wait, dealt out a game. They let Addie win every time even though she never understood the rules.

When the light faded, they went inside and Sarah lit an oil lamp. “You girls are spending the night, right?”

Lonnie’s heart lightened at the invitation. “I think we’re gonna have to.” She glanced out the window. Her ma would not want her walking the dark path alone with her sister. Sarah moved to the cupboard and pulled out a stack of familiar quilts. Lonnie moved about, helping her aunt make up the trundle.

“Ma knows where we are.” Lonnie stacked her cards together as Sarah bustled about putting supper together. Addie slid out of her chair only to send a waterfall of cards to the floor.

Lonnie accepted the tin of fragrant tea Sarah handed her. She tapped two spoonfuls into the bottom of a chipped teapot and filled the vessel with steaming water from the kettle. The stove door creaked when Sarah opened it. Coals popped in complaint to her metal poker. Lonnie cleaned up the cards and stacked them in a neat pile. Sarah
pulled a chair close to the stove, helped Addie up, and handed the little girl a spoon for stirring. When Addie grew bored, Lonnie took over, and by the time supper was ready, the little girl was curled up on Sarah’s bed, her thumb pressed to her sleeping pout.

The smell of cooking pork filled the little cabin. Sarah set the skillet on the table and put the kettle on. She looked at Addie and smiled. “She must be so tired.”

“It’s been a long day.” Lonnie plunked down in her chair.

“I want to hear all about it.” Sarah took hold of Lonnie’s hand and whispered a quick prayer before picking up the wooden spoon. “Now, what happened?” Sarah cleared her throat, then took a bite, all the while keeping her gaze on Lonnie.

Tears welled in Lonnie’s eyes, and she blinked them back.

Sarah took Lonnie’s hand in hers. “Oh, my darling. What’s happened?”

When her throat thickened, Lonnie shook her head. “Gideon.” The word trembled on her lips.

Sarah’s wide eyes searched hers.

“He walked me home last night. And he …” Unable to find the words, Lonnie lowered her face into her hands. “It was awful,” she wept.

Sarah’s grip tightened. “Are you saying …” She let out a groan. “If I had stuck around longer, if I had waited until …”

Lonnie lifted her face and sniffed. “Nothing happened.” She glanced to the door, uncomfortable at the emotion in her aunt’s face. “But he tried.”

“Oh, my dear, dear girl.” Sarah hung her head. “I’m so sorry.”

“That wasn’t the worst of it.” Lonnie smoothed her finger over a knot in the table. “It was my pa.”

Sarah leaned forward, waiting. “What did he do?” The words were sharp.

Lonnie poked food around with her fork and spoke without looking up. “He said I was soiled.”

A shadow crossed Sarah’s face. “I’d like to give that man a piece of my …” A tear slid down Lonnie’s cheek, and Sarah rose to surround her in a warm embrace.

Lonnie held on to her aunt’s sleeve and wept. For the first time that day, she allowed the memory of what really happened to wash through her.

“Don’t you let those lies stay inside you. The only opinion that matters is God’s, and He knows the truth.”

Nodding fiercely, Lonnie looked up. With the hem of her apron, Sarah smoothed Lonnie’s cheeks dry.

“Pa … he said something about my ma. Said she was where I
got it
from.”

Fire flashed in Sarah’s eyes, but just as quickly, she composed her features. “Don’t you mind a word he said about you or your ma.” She rose and moved to the stove, where she whisked dirty dishes into the washbasin. She worked without speaking, her shoulders stiff.

“There’s something you’re not telling me,” Lonnie followed. “Aunt Sarah, I’m not a little girl.”

Sarah scrubbed a wooden spoon harder than necessary, and when she didn’t respond, Lonnie touched her arm.

“Please.”

With a sigh, Sarah let the spoon sink to the bottom of the basin. She pressed her palms to the work surface and leaned her weight on them. The sigh she breathed bespoke years of frustration.

“What is it?” Lonnie circled to her side. “Nothing you can say will upset me. Not after what happened.”

“I never thought the day would come that you would need to know
this.” Sarah brushed a strand of Lonnie’s hair behind her ear. “But I see it has.” She motioned for her to sit on the trundle bed, and Lonnie perched on the edge, careful not to wake Addie.

Sarah lifted the lid of a heavy chest and pulled out a nightgown. Her fingers lingered on the oiled wood before she spoke. “There was a time your pa made a horrible assumption about my sister.” She turned, and the sheen in her eyes caught the firelight. “I can see his mind is still made up.” She rose and gently laid the nightgown in Lonnie’s lap.

Lonnie fingered the lace at the edge of the sleeve.

“He’s still not convinced. Even after all these years.” Sarah tilted her face up. “But you’re his daughter, whether he believes it’s so or not.”

Swallowing, Lonnie fought to keep her emotions in check. She took several breaths, allowing her aunt’s words to sink in.

“Your ma was innocent.” Sarah touched the center of her blouse. “I know it in my gut. She never loved any man but your pa.”

Lonnie clung to that peace, believing with all her might that her ma was as loyal a wife as a man ever had.

“I’ll never forget the way your ma stood up to him.” Sarah smiled. “And she’s paid the price for it ever since.” She shook her head, shadows playing on her features.

Uncomfortable, Lonnie shifted. When Sarah didn’t speak, Lonnie touched her arm. “There’s something else.”

Sarah pulled a pin from her hair. “It’s just rumors.” Her voice was grave. She pulled another pin free with jerky movements.

“I still want to know.”

Sarah tugged the last pin, and her bun fell in a twist that unraveled against her neck. She looked down at Addie for several heartbeats, and when she spoke, her voice was nearly inaudible. “The man … you wouldn’t
know him by name”—Sarah pulled her knees to her chest and smoothed her skirt down her ankles—“never saw the light of day again.”

Lonnie’s feet turned cold.

“Looked like an accident, but there are those who’ve whispered how a grown man couldn’t drown in two feet of water.” She shook her head, tossing the shadows off. She forced a tight smile. “But enough of that hearsay.”

“What do you believe?” Lonnie felt Addie’s warm breath against her arm.

Sarah tipped her chin. “That your mother loves you. She may not be showin’ it as well as she could, but know that she does.”

Lonnie couldn’t speak.

“As for your pa … I’d like to give him a good spankin’.” Her shoulders rose and fell. “It can be easy to hold on to something just for a reason to be angry. But bitterness will never satisfy that man. It’s my constant prayer he’ll realize that before it’s too late.” Sarah clasped Lonnie’s hand. “There may come a time he grieves his deeds—all of them. I hope one day he’ll grieve for the time he wasted with you.” Sarah’s eyes lifted to the window, to the direction Lonnie had come. “With all of you.” She cupped Lonnie’s cheek and, without speaking, pulled the heavy Bible from its shelf.

“Now then. Where did we leave off?”

Lonnie clutched the nightgown in her lap. “Twenty-three.”

Sarah read softly, the candlelight playing games with her features. By the time she finished, Lonnie’s eyelids were heavy and a peace had settled over her. Sarah pulled the quilt snugly over Lonnie’s shoulders, then set about extinguishing candles. “Now all I want you to do is get a good night’s sleep. Heaven knows you deserve it.” She kissed the top of Lonnie’s head, lingering as a mother would.