Be Still My Soul: The Cadence of Grace, Book 1 (23 page)

The preacher closed a thick Bible and prayed a benediction for the happy couple. Folks clapped and cheered when he finished. Lonnie offered her applause, while Gideon clapped slowly, as if distracted. Lonnie spotted a young woman eying her husband and felt a flush in her cheeks. She braved a glance into Gideon’s face, but he stared straight ahead, eyes wide, as if in another world completely.

Lonnie gently touched his arm, and he looked at her, his expression full of pain. Something she saw there made her breath catch. But before she could speak, chair legs scraped the plank floor. Women bustled to the food tables, slicing pies and stirring beans. The men cleared away dozens of mismatched chairs, moving them against the walls. Soon the music began. Lonnie stood beside Gideon in line for dinner. The boy behind her tapped his feet to the music, and turning, Lonnie smiled at him.

Tables draped in red gingham cloths were covered with bowls of
creamed corn, dill pickles, and platters of ham. Lonnie also spotted plates of biscuits, a crock of potato salad, and fried cabbage. Gideon cut two slices of bread, smearing his with apple butter and the other with blackberry jam—Lonnie’s favorite.

“Thank you.” She took her plate and forced herself to pass by a dozen pies. She glanced up at the broad black coat in front of her and watched as the groom’s father shoved a cookie in his mouth.

Gideon did the same, and when he saw Lonnie watching him, he shrugged and grinned. He chewed quickly. “It’s more food than a man can fit on his plate.”

A spotted dog poked his nose out from beneath the table, eyes large and golden. Gideon slipped a piece of ham beneath the checked cloth, where it vanished. He cleared his throat, and Lonnie shook her head. They made their way over to the Bennetts’ picnic blanket, spread out beside a dozen others on the plank floor of the giant barn.

Gideon rolled a piece of ham and took a bite, then sipped his cider and shivered. “It’s cold.” Setting his plate aside, he blew on his hands.

Lonnie broke off a piece of biscuit. “Put your gloves on.”

“I can’t eat with my gloves on.” He flashed her an impish smirk.

Lonnie soaked in the sight. “I will go and get you a fork. Anyone else need anything?”

Jebediah lifted a fried chicken leg. “A napkin would do me good.”

“I’ll be right back.” She ducked into the line long enough to snag what she needed, and when she returned, Jebediah was busy licking his fingers. She tossed him the napkin, then handed Gideon the fork. “You’re a lot of work, you know that?”

His smile bloomed into a grin. Her breath caught. She sat down, closer than she needed to, and tried to think of something to say that would keep him smiling.

A man behind her cleared his throat. “Excuse me, are you Gideon?”

They turned in unison, and Lonnie glanced up at a bearded man who balanced a tow-headed girl on his hip.

Gideon wiped his mouth. “Yep, why?”

The man tipped his head toward the makeshift stage. “Wanna play for a bit? A man over there said he heard you a time or two in Rocky Knob. Said you played the mandolin real good.” He shifted the long-legged girl to his other side. “And I need a break.”

“Good?” Gideon lifted his eyebrows and glanced into the crowd, and Lonnie followed his gaze in search of the familiar face. “Well, I don’t know about that.” His tone was humble.

Lonnie elbowed him. “C’mon, Gid. Play.”

“I don’t have my mandolin.” He shrugged it off.

The man slapped a friendly hand on Gideon’s shoulder. “You can borrow mine. I’m plumb tuckered out up there.” He shook his head. “It’s gonna be a long day, and I could use a bite of food.”

Gideon looked at Lonnie. “Do you mind?” He licked his fingers, and she thrust a napkin into his hand.

“Not one bit.”

He tried to fight a smile but failed. “Just a few songs?”

With a laugh, she pushed against his chest, urging him toward the music. “Go. They’re waiting!”

Gideon felt the crowd swallow him up. He brushed past people he didn’t know, faces he’d never seen before. He spotted a stout fellow in the corner, the man’s thick arm around a dark-haired girl. His heart froze. Was it Bert? But when the man tipped his chin and lifted his
face, thick eyebrows and broad-set eyes declared him a complete stranger.

Gideon sighed in relief, grateful Bert wasn’t around. As he walked past, he felt the girl watching him. A glance confirmed his suspicions. Gideon ducked his head and walked on, leaving the couple behind him as he neared the stage. A few short months ago, he would have paid attention, but he felt no pull to the girl or what she might have to offer.

The realization lifted an unseen weight off his shoulders.

He’d gotten more than one stare from a girl that afternoon, yet he cared nothing for the glances he’d received or the dimpled smiles meant for him alone.

There was only one girl whose gaze he hoped to capture.

And he’d left her sitting on a plaid blanket in the center of the barn.

The man lunged onto the stage, Gideon right behind. He handed Gideon a mandolin and scratched his dark hair. “It’s nothin’ special, but it stays in tune.”

“Looks nicer than mine.” Gideon rubbed his thumb along the spruce top.

The man chuckled. “I’ll be back in a few songs. Hey, I appreciate this.” He set the little girl down, then held her hand as they walked away through the crowd. Gideon quick-checked the tune.

“What can you play?” A stout blond looked up even as he tucked his fiddle beneath his chin.

“Anything you want.” Gideon pulled up a crate and slid it between his legs. He held the mandolin snug in his lap, the feel of wood familiar against his chest. “You pick. I’ll just follow along.”

“If you say so.” The fiddler smirked. “That’s Tom Parson on the banjo over there. Just thought I’d warn ya.” The bow stretched across the strings. “
Good
luck.”

Gideon’s mouth parted, but he slammed it shut. He glanced at Tom, who held his banjo ready, and it struck Gideon just what kind of lick this would be. He stretched his fingers, wishing he’d had the chance to warm them up. The crowd cheered at the fiddler’s teasing.

The stout blond leaned forward, and his bow slowed, then silenced. Vibrations hovered among the rafters. Gideon sucked in a deep breath.

As if tipping his sword in a duel, Tom dipped his hat. Gideon nodded, and the duel began. Tom started, and Gideon followed just as fast. The mandolin trailed the banjo—nine plucks from each. The crowd cheered louder. They played quicker. Gideon’s stiff fingers struggled, but as his hand softened to the instrument, he felt a fighting chance inside him.

The song quickened. Stubby fingers twanged the banjo so quick, Tom’s cap fell off, and Gideon took no care to hide his pleasure. The faster they played, the louder the crowd yelled. A boy in the front let out a shrill whistle, and Gideon felt the vibration of a chuckle in his chest, though the sound was lost in the roaring room. A wave of clapping kept the tempo ever quickening until finally, to the crowd’s clear dismay, Tom threw up his hands. Exhausted, Gideon lowered his head and clapped in honor of his opponent.

“How did you learn to play like that?” Tom yelled from across the stage.

Gideon shrugged off the compliment. “You wore me out!” he hollered. “No wonder your other man needed a break!”

They played a few more songs, most of which Gideon knew. Those he didn’t were easy to pick up. After a final waltz, the band stopped for a rest, and Gideon gladly returned the instrument to its owner.

“Here.” Tom set his banjo aside and waved Gideon to the back
corner of the stage. He tipped a bottle of whiskey to an empty glass. “You earned this.” He held the glass to Gideon, amber liquid sloshing against the sides. Tom’s smile was genuine.

“I—uh …” Gideon stared at the offering as his heart picked up its pace. The liquid stilled.

Tom’s eyebrows knit together.

“No, thanks.” Gideon blurted out, stunned by the sound of his own voice.

“No problem.” Tom downed the glass in one shot, then clapped Gideon on the back. “Good job, man. That was fun.”

“Yessir,” Gideon said, his heart suddenly lighter.

As the band shared a celebratory drink, Gideon strode off in search of Lonnie. His stomach growled and he remembered his half-eaten supper, but as he pushed his way through the thick crowd, he had to pause for handshakes.

“That was amazing,” a tall man said.

“Where are you from?” a croaky voice asked.

Gideon just shook their hands. “Thank you” was all he could get out. His head spun. He needed to find Lonnie. Finally, he spotted her with Elsie, curled up on the blanket, her dark shawl draped over her body. Several pieces of golden straw stuck to her hair. Her face was peaceful, and her wrist lay gently across her belly.

“How long has she been asleep?” Gideon knelt beside her, his voice barely audible over the hubbub around him.

“Not long, but I don’t know how she can sleep with all this racket.” Elsie handed Gideon a stack of cookies wrapped in his napkin. “I’m going to go find Jebediah. We need to get her home.” She disappeared into the crowd.

Gideon leaned against a bale of hay, and as he ate his cookies, he watched the commotion. When the music began again, dancers found their partners, and a few men on the outskirts jigged alone. An awkward display of knees and elbows. Gideon recognized one too many drinks in their faces. The lusty taste of liquor filled his mind, but a smile tugged at his mouth, and he glanced down at Lonnie.

He pulled a piece of straw from her hair, smoothing his fingertips across limp curls—something he would never have dared had she been awake. Her hair was silk to his skin. She shifted beneath her shawl. He grinned. With his head clear and heart light, he knew no bottle or jug would have made this day any better.

G
ideon blinked into the light that filtered through the curtains, spilling across the floor. He sat and shook his head, stunned to see the sun so high. He’d never slept in this late, but by the time his head hit the pillow the night before, it had seemed morning was already itching to rise. He glanced to his side, only to find the bed empty. He rose and coveted the warm covers even as he dressed and lumbered downstairs.

Pots clanged and dishes clattered into place at the table. He combed fingers through his hair but knew it wouldn’t improve his appearance. Still standing in the entryway, he rubbed his knuckles against his jaw and watched Lonnie and Elsie prepare breakfast. Batter dripped down the side of the skillet, and there was a broken eggshell on the floor. It looked more like chaos than anything else.

“Mornin’.” Lifting onto the pads of her feet, Lonnie reached for a stack of plates and spun toward the table. “You must be hungry.”

Gideon yawned. “Starv-ing.”

“Breakfast is almost ready.” She pointed to his chair. Her striped apron caught the air as she turned again. Her hair was freshly combed
and plaited. A few tendrils scattered around her face. Gideon remembered the feel of it in his hands.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I better do the chores first.”

Lonnie cleared her throat even as Jebediah pushed his way into the kitchen, a pail of milk in his right hand.

Gideon straightened.

“Those girls don’t wait for sleepyheads like you who were out too late.” Jebediah scooted the bucket off to the side.

Elsie clicked her tongue. “Let the poor man have two minutes without having a chore or fence to build or whatever else you make him do.”

“I second that.” Chuckling, Gideon sat. He propped his elbows on the table and dropped his face in his hands. He rubbed his palms against burning eyes.

A sting struck his arm, and Gideon glanced up.

“Elbows?” Elsie propped her hands on her hip, wooden spoon hovering. Her eyes sparkled.

“Sorry.” He rubbed his arm.

When Lonnie sat next to him, her cheeks were rosy from the stove. Gideon’s stomach growled as he waited for Jebediah to bless the food, and he hardly had enough time to lift his fork before Elsie filled his plate with hotcakes. He drizzled maple syrup on top and helped himself to the stewed apples Lonnie pushed his way.

“You know what we’re going to do today?” Jebediah asked, draping one arm over his chair.

Gideon shook his head and stirred a bite of hotcake into his syrup, then stuffed it in his mouth.

“I wanna take a load of stuff to trade.”

“All the way to town?” Gideon lifted his eyes from his plate.

“Naw, Mount Airy’s too far. I just stop around at the neighbors’. Folks this far out are always willin’ to trade with one another.”

Gideon wiped his mouth, then dropped his napkin in his lap. “What are we gonna trade?”

“Well, chestnuts for a start. Some folks can’t gather their own, and we might unload a whole bushel.” Jebediah sipped his coffee. “Elsie’s got half a dozen jars of apple butter and a couple pounds of butter.” He shrugged. “Then again, we might not be able to trade anything, but it’s worth a shot. You never know when you got something that someone else might need, and likewise.” After rising from the table, he pulled an enamel pitcher down from the shelf above the stove, then tugged a leather pouch out by its strings. “And I’ll bring this.” Coins jingled when he shook the sack. “Ol’ Red Pickler up the way always has a good wheat crop. He usually sells me a few sacks of flour. Maybe I’ll be able to talk him into more. We’ll see.”