My Hope Is Found: The Cadence of Grace, Book 3 (6 page)

“You don’t want to wait around for Toby?”

She lifted a pinch of her skirt. “Not like this.” Having spent the morning
with Addie and the growing goats across the way, she was more than ready for a pass at the washstand and a change of clothes. Her heart sank when Toby rode Gael into view.

“Aw, come on. You look fine to me.”

Lonnie laughed as she moved toward the house, all the while knowing it was too late to vanish out of sight. “Sure.” She wiped her hands together, feeling the grit of dirt between them. “I think I look nice enough to give the mule a bath.”

Hearing Toby approach, she forced herself to turn and face them.

As he walked toward the coop, Toby pulled a pair of work gloves from his back pocket. “Give the mule a bath, you say? Now that’s a sight I’d verra much like to see.” He slowed, finally standing closer to Jebediah than Lonnie.

But she had his gaze.

“Sorry I’m late. A man up the way just lamed his horse. Gael an’ I spent the morning hauling wood from the forest to his door.” He flicked his thumb over his shoulder toward the brown mare who was searching for something to graze on.

“How’d it go?” Jebediah asked.

Toby followed Jebediah’s silent lead back into the coop, and Lonnie leaned against the doorway to keep from filling up the small space. “I think Gael was in a mood about getting up that early.” He rubbed his forehead as if tired. “But she’s young. She can handle it.” His smile landed on Lonnie. “The good news is that with his horse out of service, he asked if I’d like to borrow his wagon for anything … so I thought I’d see if you might want to come with me to church this Sunday. I know it’s too far on foot, but perhaps if I brought the wagon ’round …”

“Oh, really?” Lonnie straightened. “That would be such a treat.”

“I thought you might enjoy a bit of an outing.”

She nodded and suddenly remembered how desperately she needed to get inside and change. “Would you like some coffee, Toby?”

He rested a gloved hand on the end of his shovel. “That’d be nice, thank you.” He seemed to study her.

“I’ll be right back.” Lonnie walked to the house. Inside, she scrubbed her hands in the kitchen washbasin, then snatched a tin mug from the cupboard and filled it with coffee. A splash of cream and a sprinkle of sugar later, she carried the steaming cup outside. As her fingers thawed from the heat, she watched Toby lower the wheelbarrow. Pulling off his work gloves, he met her halfway.

“Thank you.” He tipped the cup to his lips.

Lonnie fiddled with the cuff of her plaid shirt. Gideon’s shirt.

She thought she was rid of every trace. Every memory. But a few weeks ago, the shirt surfaced in Elsie’s mending basket, and Lonnie couldn’t bear to let it go. Why she’d worn it today of all days, she’d never know. It wasn’t as if she really wanted to get it dirty. In fact, she had every intention of soaking out the stains and smudges from today. She peered up at Toby, who kept his eyes away, as if to give her time to speak.

“You’re welcome,” she hurried to say when she realized she was yet to answer. If she wasn’t a mess from one end to the other today. She took a step back. “You’ll stay for dinner, won’t you? I can make that honey cornbread you liked last time.”

“I think it was Jacob’s favorite too.” His voice warmed on the name of her son. “I think between the two of us, we ate most of the pan.”

“I remember that.” Another patch of peace seemed to cover her ever-mending heart. “He seems to like anything you do. Instead of trying to get
him
to eat his peas, I’m just going to give you an extra helping. That’ll do the trick.”

Tilting his face to the ground, Toby grinned as broad as she’d ever
seen. He tugged at his hair, and when he finally glanced back at her, his eyes held a tenderness that made it nearly impossible to look away.

Jebediah leaned his shovel against the side of the coop and gripped the handles of the wheelbarrow. “It’s a good thing I’m not payin’ ya.”

“I should get to work,” Toby said. A friendly nod to Lonnie, and he strode back toward the coop.

Lonnie hurried into the house. She filled her washstand with hot water and crawled out of her clothes, tossing them to the side. As she scrubbed soap up her arms, she forced herself not to pick up Gideon’s shirt, smooth out the wrinkles, and drape it over the chair. Once washed and dressed, Lonnie scurried downstairs to start the noon meal.

Struck with cabin fever, Elsie had taken the antsy children to a neighbor’s house for the morning. The kitchen seemed to sigh an emptiness without her. Lonnie filled a bowl with cornmeal and leavening, cracked two eggs, then whisked in softened butter.

Through the window in the back door, she could see Jebediah and Toby working. Though she didn’t want to let on, she knew Toby had spoken to Jebediah alone last week. The thought unsettled her, but not from anxiety. Lonnie stepped from the window. If her suspicions were correct, Toby would have a question for her soon.

And not just any question. She forced herself to take a steady breath.

After beating the batter until it was silky, she filled a greased cast-iron pan and slid it into the oven. She was gathering up broken eggshells when Toby shouldered the door open, an armload of wood pressed to his chest.

“Jeb and I just finished, and he sent me in to bring you wood.” He dropped the split fir in the woodbox and brushed dust from his pants. “He might have mentioned something about wanting coffee too.”

“Sounds like Jebediah.” Lonnie filled a cup. “Would you like more for yourself?”

Toby placed his empty cup in the washtub. “No, thank you. I’m fine.” He stood just behind her. Surely he wouldn’t ask her
now
?

Hands atremble, Lonnie poured cream into Jebediah’s coffee.
Oh dear
. Jebediah didn’t take cream. Toby did. A shake of the pot showed it was nearly empty. Well, Jebediah was getting cream today.

“Okay.” The word squeaked out. She set the pot down so hard the lid bounced off, hitting the floor in a splatter of coffee. Snatching a rag from the basket, Toby wiped it up. He replaced the lid and chuckled as he fiddled with the cloth between his hands. He spoke before she could.

“Elsie’s not home, is she?”

Eyes down, cheeks aflame, Lonnie shook her head. She braved a glance up, knowing what a fool she must look.

A half grin lit his face. “I better get back out there then. Before Jebediah drags me out by my shirt collar.”

She felt her neck warm. “Jebediah’d never do that to you.”

His voice was soft. “He’d have every right.”

His words were not helping her pulse.

She took a slow, steady breath, reminding herself that Toby was as good a friend as she’d ever had. Nerves or no nerves, she knew what the future held, and she was happy about it. “Well, don’t go gettin’ into any trouble over me.”

“It’d be worth it.” He stepped toward the door.

“And that coming from a reverend.” She arched an eyebrow but wondered if her cheeks were as rosy as they felt.

“You’re right. I apologize. I shouldna said that.” His dimples deepened, voiding his apology. “S’pose I better do something to rectify the situation.” His gaze touched hers before he stepped out. A cold burst of air swayed Lonnie’s skirt, and the door closed behind him.

Gideon heard the town of Stuart before he saw it. He crested a low, bare hill—the trees long gone—and spotted the buildings in the distance. He smelled smoke. Heard the clatter of horses and wagons and, somewhere far off, the ring of a hammer on an anvil. Yet the only sight to draw his attention was the large courthouse. The brick building stood out in its prominence, and for the first moment in days, doubt flitted through him.

Despising the feeling—the thought of losing Lonnie all over again—Gideon strode down the hillside all but talking aloud to convince himself not to be afraid. He crossed onto Main Street and headed straight for the courthouse that stood like a beacon in the center of town. He dodged a wagon and then a group of women, taking care to step over a dog sleeping across the wooden sidewalk.

Striding up the stone steps of the courthouse, he suddenly felt very small. Snow gathered along the bases of the massive columns, and Gideon shivered as he reached the broad porch. The tall doors were closed. A tug on one large handle and it opened more smoothly than he expected. He stepped into the warm building.

Greeted by the musky scent of perfume, he immediately spotted the source sitting behind a desk.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” Gideon pulled his hat off as he approached the woman.

The receptionist looked up, a pair of spectacles pressed against her round face. The wiry bun mounded on her head was streaked in gray.

“I have a question, and I’m not sure where to begin.”

Her smile was genuine. “What may I help you with?”

“I … uh … I sent an annulment request to the court through the circuit rider, and I’m curious as to its status.”

He might as well have spoken in German for the look she gave him. “Annulment.”

He nodded soberly.

“What is your name?” She slid a small pad of paper toward herself and picked up a stubby pencil. He spoke and she eyed him from head to toe. With an arch of her eyebrow, she scratched
Gideon O’Riley
in tiny script. “I will be right back. You may have a seat while you wait if you’d like.” A gaudy ring on her finger caught the light when she waved her hand toward some benches.

Gideon turned his hat in his hand. “Thank you, ma’am.”

Her boot heels echoed down the corridor, and he sat on a hard bench. A few people milled about, murmuring in hushed tones. Turning his hat nervously, Gideon looked out the window and tried to swallow, but his heart felt like it was in his throat. He all but jumped up from the bench when the woman returned. Her face was stony. Gideon drew in a heavy breath.

“Mr. O’Riley, I’m afraid that the judge has not gotten to your case yet.” She pressed her hand to a broad belt that cinched the waist of her lacy blouse. “It could be a while yet. A few days … perhaps longer.
Most likely
longer.”

“Longer?”

“Yes sir. These matters take time.” She strode back to her desk with an invitation for him to follow.

“Is there a way I could speak to him? I need to get home, ma’am.”

“I’m afraid not today. It’s been a hectic day, and the judge has a hearing in several minutes.” She glanced up at a massive clock on the wall above her. “And he’s leaving today at five on the dot, as usual. Judge Monroe does not like his supper delayed. Perhaps you could return in a few days’ time.”

He didn’t have a few days. But he was growing more certain that he couldn’t return to Lonnie without proof that he was no longer married to Cassie. Gideon ducked his head. “Thank you.”

As he stepped back, she eyed him. “You’re not from around here?”

“No ma’am. I’m from Fancy Gap. I just came here to settle this.”

“Ah.” She drew in a slow breath and let it out as if she had all the time in the world. “Follow the main road downtown, and on your right, you’ll see a yellow house. It’s owned by Mr. and Mrs. Smith and is the ordinary in town. Unless you’d prefer one of the inns, though they are pricier.”

A tug on his wrinkled shirt, and Gideon wondered what sort of hobo he must look like. “Thank you.” After picking up his pack, he stepped out of the courthouse, where a faint snow fell softly.
Fantastic
. Just what he needed. There was no sun to gauge the time, but judging by the growl in his stomach, it had to be around noon. Gideon leaned against one of the massive pillars, pulled on his gloves, and made himself comfortable.

Folks strolled about in the street below, several climbing the steep steps into the courthouse, only to return an hour or so later. Gideon was half-frozen and nearly asleep when a man exited the brick building, his pristine black coat and glossy hat hinting that he was no mere citizen on courthouse business.

Gideon straightened so fast he nearly slipped and fell. Steadying his nerves, he strode toward him. “Sir.”

The man looked at him as he pulled on a pair of shiny black gloves. Gideon nodded cordially, uncertain of how to begin, but all the while knowing this was his chance.

“Judge Monroe?”

The man glanced at him briefly. His nod was scarcely discernible.

“May I speak with you a moment, sir?”

The older man slid on a tall hat, taking care with his hair. “I’ve worked for nine hours straight today.” His mustache twitched. “All I care about in this moment is the roast I know is sitting on my dining room table, and unless your name is Sally Monroe, I have no interest in what you have to say.” Pulling a watch from his waistcoat, he started down the steps.

Gideon followed. “Sir, please. I just have a question.” He hitched his pack higher up on his shoulder, and the mandolin hummed when he bumped it.

“And I’m afraid it will have to wait.” The judge’s silver eyebrows darkened his brow as he sized Gideon up in one blink. Snow flecked in brilliant specks on the man’s black coat. “I do not conduct business outside of the court.”

The judge walked on and wove through the evening crowd. A pair of men tipped their work hats to him as a dozen polished boots made prints in the freshly fallen snow. Gideon watched the judge go. He let out a heavy sigh, chagrined by the weariness that was beginning to wash over him. This was no time to come unhinged.

But he was cold. And mighty hungry.

Looking around, Gideon took note of the buildings up and down the main artery of town. He headed toward what he guessed was downtown, as the receptionist had advised. Glancing in the windows of the first inn, Gideon spotted a restaurant where happy patrons dined. He ran his hand
over his mouth, forcing himself to say a thankful prayer for the bread in his pack. He walked on, slowly, having nowhere else to be.

Nowhere else except home. But that wasn’t about to happen tonight.

Light pooled from business windows, and Gideon walked until the storefronts thinned to larger fenced yards. The sun must have set beyond the clouds, for the land was growing darker by the minute. He spotted the ordinary in the distance, lit by two cheery windows. The yellow building invited. Beckoned. But with nothing in his pockets, Gideon stopped before he got there and dropped his pack against the side of a building. The two-story clapboard would block the wind, and the overhang would keep the snow at bay. Though he would have lit a fire had he been in the woods, he was just going to have to live without one here.