Though My Heart Is Torn: The Cadence of Grace, Book 2 (31 page)

“Jebediah got him choppin’ wood?”

Elsie walked to the window. “Must be.” Her voice muffled against the glass. “Though Jebediah would never ask him. He’d just as soon do it himself. I suppose the reverend must have offered.”

Toby hoisted the ax over his head and brought it down with a swift blow. The wood split in two—each piece flew in opposite directions across the yard. Lonnie lifted her eyebrows as he reached for another. No, he was nothing like Reverend Gardner. Not wanting to stare, she returned her attention to the dishwater that had cooled. “I still have a hard time believing he’s a preacher.”

“Is that so?” Elsie laughed. “Is it his wild ways?”

Lonnie felt a smile form. “Well, he doesn’t look much like a reverend. Not like Reverend Gardner or Reverend Brown.”

“Well, I’d hope not.” Elsie’s soft cheeks bobbled when she chuckled. “That boy’s a good thirty years younger than both those men.” Her voice fell soft. “And after what those men put you through, a lot more useful.”

Elsie moved away from the window and propped her hands on her hips. “Toby’s a good worker.” She reached up and pulled a tin mug down from the cupboard. “Here, take some cider to the poor man.” From a pan on the back of the stove, Elsie poured a cup of frothy, auburn liquid and set it near Lonnie. “As hard as that man works, he’ll be plumb tuckered out in no time.”

With her hands wrapped around the warm mug, Lonnie stepped onto the porch. He looked in her direction.

“Care for something to drink?” she asked.

He straightened and watched her approach. “Aye.” Toby lowered the ax.

“Elsie … I mean, Elsie and I thought you might be thirsty.”

She held it out so fast it nearly sloshed on him.

He took a step back. “Shall I just try and catch it then?” He held his hands out, his grin wide.

“Sorry.” Her cheeks felt aflame. She made a show of taking slow steps toward him. He chuckled and accepted the offering, his fingers brushing hers. The dark stubble that tinted his face could not conceal his deep dimples. Lonnie wiped her hands on the sides of her skirt. Feeling strangely at ease, she settled down on the chopping block, and when he sat beside her, she was in no hurry to be anywhere but there.

Cassie wiped the coffeepot clean and couldn’t help but notice that the black enamel had seen better days. She set it with a soft
thunk
on the stove. Then she lifted a pair of plates, stacked them in the cupboard, and closed the door. The scent of roasted meat hung rich in the air, and a small square of cornbread that was left over sat beside her teacup with a spoonful of jam.

Dinner had come and gone with little conversation, and now Gideon leaned back in the rocking chair, one ankle propped on the opposite knee. His boots were unlaced haphazardly, shirt untucked and wrinkled at the hem, the cares of the day long spent. He strummed his mandolin softly and sang not so much as a word. It was the same tune he played every time he pulled out the instrument. Cassie already knew it by heart. It was hauntingly beautiful. A window into the heart he kept so heavily guarded.

She shook the damp dishtowel and hung it on the low nail beside the stove where it would dry by morning. She tasted her tea, the brew warm to her palate. Closing her eyes briefly, she let out a sigh of satisfaction. Another day was done. Another night sat waiting. She took a sip of tea, her eyes on her husband. She had no doubt that this night would be as lonely as all the others.

The fire in the stove crackled and popped, filling the little cabin
with a heat that led her to prop open the far window. A blanket of stars hung overhead as if it would float down any moment. Cassie watched it for several minutes, stunned once again by the vastness of it all. Stunned … and feeling very small.

Gideon played on. Finally, she turned, wiped her hands on her apron, and moved a stack of books off the rickety piano bench, setting them on the floor. She sat and stared at the keys. The song continued, and she knew where it would go next. Her fingertips found the ivories. She pressed one and then another. Gideon didn’t seem to notice, so fixated was he on the night sky beside him.

The melody continued, each note more haunting than the last. He played with a hunger that would never be satisfied, and as if to express the same yearning, Cassie played along. So this was what it felt like. Neither of them spoke. In fact, he played as if she weren’t in the room. Weren’t in his life. So this was it. This was what it was like to be so far from happiness it seemed unattainable. She on her bench. He in his chair. Both of them worlds apart. He’d fall asleep there, she was certain of it.

He slept there almost every night. If by some miracle he collapsed on the mattress, he took care that he didn’t so much as brush his hand against her. Each night that passed was as lonely as the rest. Gauging them against the years of her life, Cassie wondered if joy was lost to her. Love certainly was.
Make no mistake
. She’d given up on that hope. Not in an instant, but little by little, it had faded. The spark of hope—of possibility—had been trampled on one too many times. Reviving it seemed impossible.

In an instant, she froze. Gideon had grown so silent that all she could hear were the vibrations of her last note. She felt him watching
her. A glance confirmed it. Without peeling his eyes from her face, he began again, the song as soft as ever. Cassie’s fingers found one key and then the next. Did he feel … did he hear her longings?

She wanted to be loved. She wanted to love. But Gideon O’Riley was making that impossible. Lonnie would always be the mother of his child. Always. And Cassie was beginning to fear that she would never hold a baby in her arms. Fear that a small laugh would never fill this room. She glanced at Gideon, his eyes still studying her, his foot bouncing slowly. Had she forgotten?

He was already a father. He had a son.

Cassie let her hands slip from the keys, and he followed her lead, falling silent as well. She couldn’t imagine the grief she would feel if she were to finally have a child—a piece of her and the person she loved—only to have someone take that child away.

“I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed now.”

He lifted his bottom lip. “I’ll be along soon.”

Sure he would. She closed the lid to her piano. “Good night.”

“Sleep good, Cassie.”

His voice was so genuine she halted. “And you too.” She pressed her hand to his temple and kissed the top of his head, lingering. “Good night.” She stepped into the dark bedroom, wondering if the end had come.

A pair of thin crows darted from her path. Their black feathers caught the morning sun and shimmered. Cassie’s feet skittered across the melting snow, and it was not long before she arrived at her parents’ back porch. Seeing her brothers walking toward the woods at the back of the spread, guns in tow, Cassie called out their names and waved when they turned around.

“Ma?” she called, even before her boots pounded up the porch steps. She grabbed the door latch with a gloved hand, threw it open, and nearly slid into the kitchen.

Her pa looked up from his breakfast. He grinned at her. “Well, what brings you here this beautiful morning?”

Cassie slammed the door and tugged off her coat. Her voice came out quick and breathless. “I felt like some fresh air.” She scanned the large kitchen. Instead of seeing her mother, she spotted a basin full of dirty dishes and a frying pan on the stove. The lingering scent of burnt hotcakes hung in the air. “Where is she?”

Henry lowered his voice. “She’s in bed with one of her headaches.” Kind eyes looked out from beneath his rumpled hair.

“Is it bad today?” Cassie lifted the griddle and slid the remains of the burned cakes into the slop bucket.

Her pa lowered his voice. “Ain’t had one of her headaches in a few weeks, but this one plumb knocked her off her feet.”

Cassie turned to pick up the half-eaten breakfast in front of her pa when a basket on the edge of the table caught her eye. “What’s this?” She lifted a checked cloth. A loaf of bread nestled against a generous round of butter.

“Your ma was gonna run that up to the Coles’ place. I don’t know why.” Her pa downed the last of his coffee and slid his plate away. “But you know your ma and her favors.”

Cassie fingered the handle of the basket. “I can take it for her.”

“I don’t think she’d mind doin’ it herself.” He patted her arm. “Maybe tomorrow she’ll be up and about. Usually doesn’t take her long to kick what’s ailin’ her.”

“But this bread is fresh. Knowin’ Ma, she’ll want it to get to the Coles’ before tomorrow.” Cassie grabbed the basket and slid it onto her arm. “Ma’s done so much for me lately. Let me do her a little favor.” She flashed her pa a smile, then stepped around the table. “I’ll finish the dishes and start a pot of beans when I get back.”

“Who are you, and where has my daughter gone?”

Swinging the basket to her other arm, Cassie laughed. “Will it set your mind at ease if I burn the beans a little?”

“I appreciate your help. Your ma will too.” He opened the door. “I’m off to do the mornin’ chores. I’ll check on her when I’m done.”

Headaches had plagued her ma for as long as Cassie could remember. It was common for her ma to be chipper one moment, then suddenly stricken with a throbbing pain that sometimes kept her off her feet for the day and more than once left streaks of blood on her white handkerchief.

Tripping, Cassie stumbled but righted herself. She yanked her hem free from beneath her heel and tossed the blue and white calico out of her way. She was even more resolute about her actions—her ma could in no way have made this walk in her condition.

It was a good two-mile trek to the Coles’. She dashed down the steps, and as she crossed the snow-covered farm, Gideon stepped around their chicken coop on the other side of the property. He pushed a wheelbarrow full of wood, leaning into the heavy weight of his load.

He lifted his head and, pausing, lowered the wheelbarrow. He held a hand over his eyes, watching her. Cassie felt her cheeks warm, and she ducked her head. When she braved a quick wave, Gideon waved back. He was tall and stark against the vast whiteness that surrounded him. His smile was nowhere in sight. And she knew the reasons. Even as he continued to watch her, she turned away and trudged forward, eager to get to the Coles’ so she could return home.

Her pa’s farm stretched out smooth and flat, making it an easy walk. It was one of the few pieces of acreage in the area with little or no steep grade. Now, away from the boundaries of the homestead, her path rose and her footsteps rose with it.

Cassie opened her hand, letting the sunlight hit her palm. She was glad that her relationship with her pa was better. She shuddered, remembering how deeply she’d broken his heart. The day her ma had revealed her secrets, her pa had pegged her for answers, and just like with Gideon, she had none.

At least not any good ones.

A part of her had loved Gideon’s untamed ways. Loved being on the arm of the most handsome man in the hollow. In other ways it had frightened her. One moment he was all she thought she wanted, the
next he was impatient, unruly. And she had been torn. She wasn’t nearly as fond of the through-thick-and-thin bit as Lonnie clearly was. So Cassie had asked him to leave. There was no crime in that. Wives did it all the time. Didn’t they? The basket swung gently against her hip. Once freedom was at hand, she suddenly realized that perhaps she loved him after all. Perhaps.

His handsome face filled her mind.

Cassie glanced at the vast sky overhead, so vivid a blue it nearly hurt her eyes. Was there more to this world than Rocky Knob? More waiting on the horizon? Her feet rushed her forward. The cloud of breath before her face quickened, and Cassie paused to switch the heavy basket from one arm to the other, expectancy spurring her forward.