Though My Heart Is Torn: The Cadence of Grace, Book 2 (32 page)

Cassie rapped on the front door of the Coles’ tiny cabin. The small sound echoed as if the house inside were hollow. When no one replied, she knocked again, forcing her knuckles to make her presence known. Expecting Caroline Cole to come to the door with her cheery smile and young face, Cassie bit her lip. Silence. She peered through the window. She saw nothing other than the sun’s bright glare on the streaky glass. She knocked harder, and the force made the door creak open. Cassie pulled her hand back.

“Hello?” she called into the dark cabin. “It’s Cassie Allan … I mean O’Riley.” Her cheeks warmed. “Ma sent you a basket of bread.”

No one answered.

She glanced over her shoulder but saw no one in the barnyard or nearby fields. Nothing moved other than the saplings on the south side of the run-down barn.
Where is everyone?
She’d already come this far,
she might as well drop the basket on the table to be found easily. Cassie crossed the threshold and left the light of the outside world for the darkness of the Coles’ cabin. The curtains were pulled closed, and her eyes struggled to adjust to the dim light as she slipped into the dark room. Her boot hit something soft, and bending, she picked up a blanket and draped it over her arm.
Strange
.

Cold air nipped through her sweater as Lonnie carried the pot of ash to the center of the yard, safely away from where Addie and Jacob sat playing on the porch. The book on soap making that Elsie had lent her sat on the top step, and as the memory of that day in the woods washed over her, Lonnie tried not to think of Gideon.

But when Jacob babbled from the porch steps, she watched their son play, and thoughts of what the future held for Gideon and Cassie struck her spirit. She envisioned Cassie. Wondering if her skirts mounded over his growing child. Lonnie’s heart twisted as if being wrung out. Did Gideon love Cassie out of duty? Or did his affection now run deeper than that? Richer, impassioned? Her breath felt caged in her chest; she pressed a hand to her throat. It couldn’t be.

It was. Cassie was his wife now. She was stunningly beautiful. And Gideon … was Gideon. Passionate, reckless, heady Gideon. Lonnie’s cheeks flushed as if she’d been slapped.
Lord, see me through this
.

Knees suddenly unsteady, she struggled to balance the old pot on one of the rocks that circled the fire ring for wash day. Her old work apron covered her skirts, and all the folds were tucked and pinned so as not to drag in the mud. Elsie lugged a pot of water over. Her boots were covered in muddy snow. As filthy as Lonnie’s.

“Something the matter?” Elsie asked.

Everything was the matter. It was Cassie who was holding Gideon and not her. But Lonnie simply nodded. “Thank you,” she said weakly. Her cold fingers complained as she gripped the pot, which she poured slowly and evenly over the bucket of ash. The first trickles of water passed through the holes Jebediah had punched in the bottom, running in an inky stream into the pan that sat waiting for what would become the lye mixture.

Here she was, clinging to a love that could never be, and it suddenly struck her—what if Gideon no longer thought of her? What if his joy had returned? His laughter reflected in another’s eyes? Lonnie swallowed hard and felt Elsie watching her.

“That’ll take a bit to drain through,” Lonnie said, as cheerfully as she could manage. She glanced over to see that Addie held Jacob in her lap, cooing in his ear. The little boy babbled. The sight of his sweet, rosy cheeks cinched tighter the threads that bound her heart. “I’ll wait for this to finish if you want to get the lard measured.” Her ankle itched, and using the toe of her boot, she rubbed it.

“Good idea. Shall I take the little ones in now?”

Lonnie glanced overhead where the sky was darkening. “It’s getting colder by the minute. That’s probably best.”

“I’ll round them up something to nibble on while we wait for you.”

“I won’t be long.”

Elsie toted off the empty jug and ushered the children into the house.

A dozen chickens clucked around, and Lonnie shooed them away. “Off with you, ladies.” Her tone was sharper than she’d intended. “Don’t get too close, or you’ll be sorry.” She held herself as she watched the liquid drain. The air was cold and damp, feathering the curls of her
hair. Lifting her gaze, she stared at the point hovering between north and east. Her stomach soured at the thought of Gideon and Cassie together. Anger bubbled up inside her.
Why, God? Why did this have to happen?
Why did she have to love Gideon? A man who could never love her back. Her spirit as punctured as the bucket she watched, Lonnie studied the stream of liquid that thinned, slowing to a
drip, drop
. With it nearly finished, she knelt.

It wasn’t the first time she’d made lye, but it was the first time she’d done it for soap she aimed to sell. The act brought her aunt Sarah to mind. How she missed that woman. How many years had she spent dreaming of living under her aunt’s roof, making soap and whiling away the days, just the two of them? Happy as could be.

How different her life had turned out. Her heart had been broken, time and time again, then in one last act, shattered completely. Lonnie glanced around the yard as the chickens pecked and scratched at the mess of soil and ice. Here she stood, slowly, piece by piece, trying to put it back together. What was this great plan of God’s? And how did it include her?

Lonnie tilted her face to the darkening sky.
God, why? What’s to come of this?
The wind twirled her hair, lifting her apron with its cool fingers. She listened, waiting. And in her heart of hearts knew the Lord had a purpose. He had to. Nothing was in vain.

Not even this heartache.

Her spirit clung to the hope that somehow, some way, Gideon might hang on to the faith she’d seen bloom in him. That one day they might stand face to face again, though not in this lifetime.

Lonnie rubbed her collarbone when the loss of him struck afresh.

“Gideon.” She dared to breathe his name. Just once. A deep inhale
and she tried to chase away all that could never be again. She would be brave. She would be strong. She glanced northeast, where somewhere out there, she was certain, he worked beneath the same sky. Her eyes fell closed, and she tilted her face to the breeze that blew like a stormy kiss over the farm. She could see him now. See his collar pulled up to his jaw, and she was certain he hadn’t shaved in a week. Maybe two.

Her fingers opened as if to trace the lines of the face she knew and loved so well. Sweet Gideon. Her longing burned as strong as ever. But she braced it against the reality that he would never come back. Forcing the ache into the deepest places of her heart, hoping the depths were enough to contain such sorrow.

Opening her eyes, she turned back to the task and knew she’d wasted enough time with her daydreams. A gust rustled through the jagged and leafless limbs that towered overhead. The cold seeped beneath her scarf, chilling her to the bone. It was high time she hurried into the kitchen before she froze through.

With a grunt, Lonnie lifted the pan. It was now filled with the dark, pungent water. The beginning of soap. She dared not let it splash her clothes or skin, and with slow, careful steps worked her way into the house. She nudged the door open with her boot, and instantly the heat of the kitchen stung the tips of her frozen fingers and ears.

She shuffled in. “Will you get the door, Addie?”

The little girl hopped up and pressed it closed. Elsie pulled a tray of dried-berry scones from the oven. Even in the failing light, the dusting of sugar and egg wash tempted. “I just brewed some tea,” Elsie said, sliding the kettle to the edge of the stove so Lonnie could set down the pan.

“The lye will need to thicken over the next few hours.” Lonnie held
her stiff hands over the hot stove, and her palms tingled back to life. She washed up, taking care that her hands were very clean before scooping Jacob up in her arms. She squeezed him tight, savoring his warmth, and tried to nuzzle away his fussiness. A patch of skin showed beneath his wool sweater, and she kissed it. She held him close, and his green eyes searched hers. “My sweet boy,” she whispered into his hair. With a hymn on her heart, she turned him in a slow circle, delighting in the way he pressed his head sleepily to her shoulder. His small back rose and fell in a soft sigh.

She brushed crumbs from his hair. “I see you’ve had your snack.” He flapped his arm, and she caught a sticky hand, kissing it once. Twice. Wishing with all her might that she could bottle this moment, seal it with her love, and send it to Gideon.

She had run home without stopping. Finally halting in front of her pa’s well, Cassie pressed a hand to her cheek. Her fingers trembled against her skin.
What have I done?

She had wandered into the Coles’ cabin when no one answered the door. A bleary-eyed Caroline Cole had struggled to sit, her nightgown falling off one shoulder to reveal the rash that dotted her throat and chest.
“Scarlet fever,”
she murmured through gray, chapped lips. She coughed and pressed a wrinkled handkerchief to her mouth.

Adam Cole had ushered Cassie from the cabin as quickly as he could.
“You shouldn’t be in here! You must get out! Hurry, Cassie.”
His broad hand pressed against her back to move her along.
“It isn’t safe for anyone.”

Stricken with fear, she had rushed toward the door.

Now as she struggled to catch her breath, she fought back the lump in her throat. Needing a distraction, she decided to pour herself a nice bath. After filling a bucket at the pump, she heaved it closer and, with a grunt, hoisted it off the ground. Her other hand grasped a second, and she turned toward the house.

The buckets were so heavy she had to take very slow steps.

Water sloshed over the edge, dampening her already-frozen boots. Her arms shook. Cassie looked down at her fingers wrapped around the
bucket handles, the taut skin nearly as pale as the snow. She looked away, not liking the reminder it brought of Caroline Cole’s own hands as she clutched her bed sheets.

Hasty footsteps crunched behind her. Cassie turned in time to see Gideon dart past the well. In a few long strides, he was at her side.

“Let me help you with that.” His hand brushed hers, and although it was brief, the touch left a warmth that lingered. “Just ask next time, and I’ll be happy to do this.” Without another word, he took each bucket from her.

“I didn’t know I needed water.” She slid her hand inside his elbow.

Gideon’s brow furrowed.

Her footsteps were slow.

“Are you all right?”

Cassie kept her gaze straight ahead. Her body felt fine—it was her spirit that quaked. Dare she confess her foolish actions? “Just tired. That’s all.” She hoped her hidden fear did not echo in her voice. “Thought a hot bath might soothe me.” She lifted her eyes to Gideon’s. “That’s why I came to fetch water.”

“Just holler next time, all right?”

Wishing she could turn back time, Cassie forced a smile. “Where did you go, anyway?”

Gideon glanced over his shoulder. “Jack invited me to head out with him scoutin’ deer. He said there’s been a few bucks ’round lately. We hoped we might get us one.”

Cassie pulled herself closer to him. “See anything?”

“Not a thing. But while we were out, I helped him reset some small game traps with fresh bait. I’ll go back out in the morning. Tomorrow’s another day.”

So it is
.

“And where were you? I saw you take off this morning.”

Cassie did not want to lie, but she wasn’t ready to put words to her mistake. “I went for a long walk.”

Gideon did not question her. They strolled the rest of the way, and he filled in the silence with small talk about his morning with Jack. His voice was mahogany, deeply rich and smooth. It lulled Cassie to a slow cadence, and she had to fight the urge to press her head against his shoulder. Less than willing, she released his arm when they reached the steps.

Gideon lowered his buckets. “If you start the kettle, I’ll go fetch the washtub.”

“Thank you.” She filled the kettle and plopped it on the stove. She thought about making herself a cup of tea.