My Hope Is Found: The Cadence of Grace, Book 3 (16 page)

A cold breeze hit Gideon’s face, and before he could draw another breath, he closed the door behind him.

This wasn’t happening.

Trudging into the yard, he ducked his head under the curtain of snowflakes that had picked up. It took all his strength to keep from looking behind him. He knew what he would see in the window. All of them but one his family.

The man watched Lonnie with a protectiveness that made Gideon’s blood run cold.

He bit a growl off before it could reach his throat.

Lifting the collar of his coat and his eyes at the same time, he faced a
darkness that seemed ready to swallow him up. Shivering, Gideon ducked his head and walked on.

In the barn, he moved a stack of crates full of dusty bottles, finally finding a pair of chairs. He grabbed a rag from the worktable and smeared away dust and cobwebs, then paused long enough to look around. The scent of wood and animals surrounded him. This was his home. Everything about it was familiar, and he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and imagine that man away. What right did he have to think of himself as Lonnie’s protector? What right—

Gideon froze. His shoulders stiffened. He hadn’t seen Lonnie’s left hand. Gideon looked at the house, an ache burning through him.
Oh, Lord. Please, no
.

Hauling the chair to the house, he shouldered the door open and brushed snow from his hair. He slid the chair where Elsie had set another plate. Lonnie’s back was straight as a church steeple. Gideon wondered if her heart hammered as much as his did. Without ceremony, he sat and rested his fists on the table in front of him.

Lonnie’s perfect scent wafted against him when she moved to tuck her hands beneath the table, pressed between her knees, Gideon assumed. He did not need to peek to know that her habits had not changed. Was she trying to torture him? Toby sat on her other side, and Gideon looked at him before stuffing his napkin in his lap. Fear burned in his mouth, and he tried to swallow it away.

When they were all crowded around, Elsie clasped his hand and bowed her head. Holding his breath, Gideon lifted his other hand, and Lonnie slid her palm over his.

He bit the inside of his cheek and slammed his eyelids shut. Did she feel him trembling?

Jebediah blessed the food and added his thanks for Gideon’s presence.
Gideon nodded with each word, thankful to hear in the older man’s voice that, although his arrival was unexpected, he was welcome. Lonnie’s hand was warming inside his, and it took all his strength not to circle his thumb across her silken skin.

She was like a sister to him now. It had to be. Could he do this?

When the prayer ended, he had to force himself to let go. Elsie used the edge of her apron to slide the heavy lid off the dutch oven. “Everyone help yourselves.” She moved the lid to the stove, where iron clanged against iron.

His appetite gone, Gideon tried to harness his thoughts, say something. Anything. “Do you ever sit, Elsie?”

Elsie blushed. “I sit all the time. Just not during meals.”

Jebediah chuckled. “Tell us what’s happened. What brings you here, Gid?” The older man took a sip of cider and lowered his glass, his fingers still clutching the rim, waiting for a reply.

Gideon felt Lonnie beside him as if she were the only person in the room. He cleared his throat. “I, uh …” Gideon smoothed his napkin in his lap and rested his wrists on the edge of the table. “I, um, I wanted to come home.”

Beside his, Lonnie’s foot was bouncing something fierce. He looked at her. She stared at the bread as if her life depended on it.

“You still haven’t”—Lonnie seemed to have paled—“told us about Cassie.” She glanced up at him, her face tormented. He hated what he was doing to her. He struggled for the words that would bring her peace.
God, help me
.

Gideon sat back against his chair, his gaze glued to the table. “She’s in Rocky Knob.” He nodded slowly to himself, searching for the words. They weren’t coming. “I … I …”

Lonnie turned toward him ever so slightly. “Let’s start at the beginning,
Gideon.” Her voice was smooth and soft—but pained. “How was your wedding?”

He looked down at her. Her pointed gaze faltered.

“That’s not fair, Lonnie.” The words rumbled low, meant for her ears alone.

Chin quivering, Lonnie rose and stepped from the table. Chairs scraped when Toby and Gideon stood in unison. Lonnie hurried through the parlor and up the stairs. When Toby stepped to follow her, Gideon glared at him and hurried after Lonnie.

Darting up the steps, he found her in their room. Hands clasped together beneath her chin, she looked up when he walked in.

“Lonnie.” He motioned down the hall. “Are you married?”

She tipped her chin up. “What difference does it make?”

“Please, Lonnie. I need to know.”

“I’ll give answers when
you
do.” She stepped closer.

He couldn’t think straight. Not in this room. With her so near. “Give me a question, Lonnie,” he said, his voice pitifully weak. “Give me a question, and I’ll answer it.”

“Why are you here?”

“Because I want to be with you. I love you and I can’t stop. Cassie—”

“Cassie.”

“Yes.” He motioned between them. “She allowed me to come home.”

“Permanently?” Doubt tiptoed along the tremor in her voice.

“Yes, permanently.”

“So you’re …” Lonnie hesitated, then reached for him. “You’re not married?”

Gideon ran a hand over his face. “Soon, no, I won’t be. But right now …”

A shadow passed through her large eyes.

“Right now, Cassie is still my wife.”

“Your wife.”

Gideon nodded and, suddenly feeling hot, he loosened the top button of his collar. “Lonnie.”

He felt her retreating. He was losing her.

“How could you come back like this?”

“I’ve spent a month in Stuart. I’ve visited with the judge twice now. He’s working on my case.” Gideon stepped closer and cupped her face in his hands. “Lonnie.” He moistened his lips, overcome with the urge to kiss her forehead. “Any day now I’ll get word that it’s finalized.” He forced his hands to fall away when his resolve wavered. “Any day now I’ll be free … to marry you.”

“But I don’t understand. You and Cassie—”

Lonnie straightened, and Gideon turned to see Jebediah leaning in the doorway casually.

“Wanna get yourself shot, son?” His words were hard, but his tone seemed amused.

Gideon moved back. It struck him that he had no right to be in this room. It was Lonnie’s. He had no right at all. He glanced around the familiar place, his eyes roving every surface. Every memory.

“Then I suggest you head on back downstairs.”

Lonnie pinched the bridge of her nose. “Good night, Gideon.”

Gideon strode down the stairs. Each step deliberate, grinding into his reality what was at stake—everything he’d ever loved. At the sight of the Scotsman sitting on the bottom steps, forearms on his knees, head bowed between them, Gideon halted. It pained him to have the man so close to Lonnie. In more ways than one.

Running fingers through his hair, Gideon gripped the back of his neck. “Excuse me.” Not caring how sharp his words were, he waited for the
reverend to stand and move out of his way. Gideon walked off the last step, their eyes nearly level.

“S’pose it’s time to call it a night,” Toby said.

“S’pose so.” Gideon stared at him, and the man stared back for the briefest of moments, then grabbed his hat from the bottom step and moved through the parlor. Gideon listened as he bid farewell to Elsie and the children, and then he was gone.

With Jebediah holding the lantern, Gideon carried his pack, an extra blanket, and a pillow as they walked to the barn. It had finally stopped snowing. At least something was going right.

“You sure you won’t sleep on the parlor sofa? Be a whole lot warmer.”

“I’m used to the cold. Besides”—Gideon tucked the blanket beneath his arm, nearly dropping the pillow—“it’s better this way.” It was hard enough having Lonnie so near. He wasn’t about to sleep a few steps from her door.

They stopped in front of the barn, and Jebediah set the lantern down.

Tossing his head toward the direction what’s-his-name had gone, Gideon spoke. “Who’s the chump?”

Jebediah arched an eyebrow as he opened the barn door. “If you
mean
Toby … he’s a good man.” At Gideon’s expression, Jebediah waved him in. “I’m not saying you have to like him. Just be civil. All right?”

“I’ll try,” Gideon muttered.

“He’s a good man. A friend to all of us.” Jebediah set the lantern on the work surface.

Gideon set the bedding beside the lantern and, dropping his pack,
leaned on the workbench. He lowered his head between his forearms. “And Lonnie?”

“What of her?”

“Don’t make this difficult, Jeb.”

The older man’s mustache tilted up on one side. “All right. What do you want to know?”

“Is she … Are they?” The words slipped out pitifully. “I didn’t see a ring … but, Jeb, I gotta know.”

Jebediah opened a stall gate. “No. They’re not married. But you sure as shootin’ got here in the nick of time.”

Relief coursed through him, but it was short lived. Before he could dwell on what could have been, Jebediah called him. He thumbed for Gideon to carry his bedding inside the empty stall. Gideon stepped around him.

“They’re not married … but they’re engaged.”

Gideon’s heart plummeted. He moistened his lips. “Engaged?”

“Just this evening.”

Gideon forced himself to breathe as Jebediah’s words sank in. He tilted his face to the rafters. “Are you serious?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Toby’s been comin’ around to help with the farm ever since you left.” Jebediah hung the lantern overhead. His steel-gray eyes bore into Gideon’s. “But we don’t need as much help as he’s willing to give, if you catch my meaning.”

“Yes. I’ll thank you to spare me the details.”

“There’s nothin’ else. Reverend McKee is the best of men. If anyone was gonna court your Lonnie, he’s the one to do it.”

Gideon rolled his eyes. “That’s not as comforting as you think it is.”

Jebediah chuckled as he carried over an armful of straw. “This used to hold a donkey. Seems fitting.”

Following suit, Gideon brought more straw and then spread it in a thin layer over the dirt. “I’m really glad you find this funny.” Finished spreading out the straw, Gideon laid his bedroll crookedly on top and threw his pillow haphazardly at the other end. He stared at it. Not the homecoming he’d dreamed of. “And Jacob?” he asked softly.

“Hang in there. In a few days, he’ll be back to his old self, and you’ll see … That boy loves you very much.”

Gideon flexed his hands, yearning to run them through his son’s downy curls. Holding a stone to prop open the stall gate, Gideon pushed it open as far as it would go. He went back for his pack and set it beside the makeshift bed. It wasn’t much. But it was dry. And sorta warm.

With a tug on his beard, Jebediah stood quietly several moments. “Gid. There’s somethin’ I need to ask you. Man to man.” He shifted his boots, his gazed fixed on the ground between them.

Uneasy, Gideon turned to face him.

“I feel a bit protective of Lonnie. She’ll make her own decisions, of course. But she’s like a daughter to me, and I aim to look out for her. In any way that I can.”

Gideon folded his arms and stared at his boots. “Yes sir.” He sensed where this was heading.

“It has to do with Cassie. And you two being married folk.”

Slowly, Gideon nodded. They stood for several moments without speaking.

“Goodness’ sake, Gid, don’t make me come out and ask you, son. This is hard enough.” Jebediah tugged on his beard again, cheeks rosy.

Running the pad of his thumb over his lips, Gideon cleared his throat. “I’m glad you’re looking out for Lonnie.” He stared at his friend.
“She deserves all that and more.” He kicked at a piece of straw. And then another. “Nothing … nothing
happened
between me and Cassie.”

Jebediah twisted his mouth to the side. “You mean that?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Jebediah dipped his head in a nod and then squeezed Gideon’s shoulder. “Lonnie’ll be glad to know that.” Glancing up with kind eyes, he patted Gideon on the back and stepped toward the barn door. “Maybe you deserve her after all.”

Crash
. Lonnie’s eyes flew open.

Thunk. Thunk
. She sat up in bed. Another
crash
. She slid from the warm covers, her bare feet arguing with her even as she tiptoed across the freezing floor to the window. The back of her hand grazed the lace curtains. Just enough to peek through unseen.

Thunk. Thunk
. Two pieces of wood joined the pile. Gideon placed another hunk of wood on the block. He picked up his ax and, in one smooth motion, brought it down.

Crash
. The halves spiraled away.

His breath fogged, and Lonnie’s hands involuntarily rubbed up and down her nightgown sleeves. She shivered but did not hurry back to bed, where Addie tossed in her sleep.

Setting his ax on its blade, Gideon bent and gathered the wood. Lonnie squinted as she watched him. Split, stack. It was not the most efficient method, but she recognized the rhythm and knew he was lost in thought. She watched him work, wishing his thoughts could be displayed like words on a page. But that was never Gideon’s way.

She pulled her nightgown over her head and tossed it aside, then splashed ice-cold water on her face. Unraveling her braid, she loosened the
kinks and gnarls, twisting it into a low bun at the nape of her neck. She snagged her dress from the back of the rocking chair and was still buttoning it up even as she searched for her shoes. Lonnie stepped quietly down the stairs. She grabbed her coat and threw it over her shoulders before opening the back door. Gideon looked up, then stood motionless. Lonnie slipped her hands through the sleeves.

Although the sky was still a dusky gray, there wasn’t a cloud in sight. Her shoes crunched across the frost that had gathered on yesterday’s thin layer of snow.