Though My Heart Is Torn: The Cadence of Grace, Book 2 (34 page)

A vise of shame tightened his throat. “I don’t?” he whispered.

She struck her fist against his knee. Her words were so faint, it was as if she didn’t want to respond. “We both know the answer to that.”

A long silence followed. Gideon wished he could say what Cassie needed to hear, but a weak excuse came out instead. “I’m trying my best,” he murmured. “And it’s not enough. I can see that. I want it to be more.” He stared down at the messy array of her hair. “All I know is that I hurt you. I hurt you by leaving.”

“I didn’t exactly give you a choice.” Her words floated softly between them.

“I should have tried to change. That’s the worst part.” He pinched his eyes shut. “But I didn’t. I wasn’t what any woman deserved. And then Lonnie …”

Had somehow picked up those pieces
.

He swallowed hard. “I … love her.” He choked the last words out and forced himself to look at Cassie.

Tears slipped silently down her cheeks.

Gideon groaned and took her face in his hands. He pressed his forehead to hers, closing his eyes so that all he could feel was her hair beneath his hands and her soft breath on his face. “That’s not fair to you. I don’t know if I can give you what you need. I want you to be happy, Cassie.” He placed a firm kiss to her forehead. “I truly do. I wish more than anything that this could be different.”

Her body went limp. “But you don’t. Because you could never have loved Lonnie in the first place.”

With their foreheads touching once more, Gideon nodded softly. “I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

She pressed her hand to the top of his, securing it in place. She squeezed her eyes closed, forcing one more tear to plunge after the others. Releasing him, her hand slid to the mattress. “Can we forget about this tonight?”

“Of course,” he said softly.

She looked exhausted—no, weak. Her frailty only fueled Gideon’s guilt. He helped her lie down, then lifted the covers over her. He tossed his shirt aside, blew out the candle, and crawled in beside her. The room was dark. They faced each other. Her knees were pulled up—a barrier. Gideon wrapped his hands around hers. She did not seem to mind. He heard her sniff in the darkness, and more than once she tugged her hand from his to wipe her cheeks. And each time, she nestled her damp fingers back inside his.

Closing his eyes, Gideon hoped sleep would find them quickly.

Cassie opened her eyes and found herself looking into Gideon’s sleeping face. Tilting her head toward the window, she blinked into the sun’s bright rays. Her throat burned, and she pressed her hand to her neck. She felt miserable. Even her cheeks seemed raw from the tears she’d cried. Feeling exhausted, and a little foolish, she nestled her head back into the cool contours of her pillow and sighed.

And then she remembered what this day was.

A smile played at the corners of her lips, and it felt strangely good. After the agony she’d endured the night before, anything above misery was welcome.

How could she have forgotten? Then again, she had been exhausted when she had decided to turn in early. But then Gideon came in and … no wonder today had slipped her mind.

Cassie tucked her arm beneath her cheek and watched Gideon sleep. Her gift could wait until later. She ran the side of her thumb over his arm. Her hand stilled when she waited for him to stir. As she propped her head in her palm, the strap of her shimmy slinked down around her arm, and she tugged it back into place. The air of the bedroom was frosty, and she did not need to tiptoe through the house to know that the fire in the stove had long since burned out.

In his sleep, Gideon moistened his lips. Cassie whispered his name.
“Wake up.” She nudged him, and when he squirmed, her smile widened, completing itself.

His eyes finally opened, and he stared at the ceiling for a few moments before turning to her.

“Morning,” she whispered.

Gideon closed his eyes and groaned. “Morning.” Flinging his arm over his face, he rested the crook of his elbow over his eyes and sighed. “Did you sleep?”

Slowly, Cassie sat upright and pulled the quilt to her shoulder. “I slept just fine.” Her throat was dry, and she had to stifle a cough. It suddenly took all her will to keep her words light, but she blurted out the greeting, hoping the cheery distraction would ease his apprehension. “Merry Christmas.”

He squinted at her, his face void of expression. “Christmas? I forgot that it was—”

“I have something for you.”

“You didn’t … have to.”

She smiled and found it surprisingly effortless. “I don’t have to do anything. I wanted to.”

His brow furrowed.

“It’s under the bed. Just a moment.” Crawling from the warm sheets was not easy, and she paused once her bare feet landed on the cold floor.

She crouched, her shimmy billowing around her, and she peered beneath the dark bed. She snuggled back beneath the quilt and held up a package wrapped in wrinkled brown paper that had seen many Christmases and was sure to see many more.

She laid the package in his lap. His eyes darted from the gift to her face.

“Well,” she began, but the word came out hoarse, and she had to clear her throat. “Open it.”

Gideon turned the package over and loosened the ends. The wrinkled paper fell open, and a dark green scarf tumbled free. Picking up the soft folds of knitted wool, his eyes widened. “You made this for
me
?”

His surprise was her reward. Cassie sank back into her pillow. “I noticed you didn’t have a scarf.”

He shook his head. “I don’t.”

“Well, I’m glad you can use it.”

The man beside her simply nodded. He stared at the gift.

She squeezed his hand. “Gid—”

“Thank you.” His gaze flashed to her face before falling back. “I don’t deserve this. I have nothing for you.”

Pressing her forehead to his shoulder, Cassie closed her burning eyes. Nothing that he could give.

Gideon rolled back the sleeves of his flannel work shirt, letting his dingy undershirt, which pressed tight to his forearms, poke through. He set Cassie’s piano bench on his work surface and let the mixture of sawdust and solitude make sense of his life. Even if only for an hour.

A touch of his hand, and the old bench wobbled. He eyed the legs, making inventory of what needed to be done. He picked up a chisel and worked one of the legs loose. Shoving aside a pair of files, Gideon turned the bench to the side to get a better angle, nearly knocking a can of nails to the floor. Crowded space.

He reached for a larger chisel, sliding it in with a
tap, tap
of his hammer. The leg loosened more.

“Knock, knock.” Jack stuck his head into the shanty. He propped the door open and strode in uninvited. He glanced around the shack. “Don’t you ever pick up after yourself?”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“Not really. Cassie’s over at Ma’s, and they’re startin’ to talk like women folk.” He rolled his eyes, then pulled up a stool and sat, his boots nearly touching Gideon’s.

Gideon glanced at him. Jack rose, pushed his stool farther back, and sat again. “Better?”

“Thank you.” After choosing a mallet, Gideon tapped the leg, and the nail budged. He tapped again, careful not to damage the piece. He pulled the leg loose and set it carefully on his work surface.

“Whatcha doin’?”

Gideon set his mallet down. This was going to be a long morning. “How ’bout this? You can sit and watch, but I get to charge you a nickel for every stupid question.”

“Whoa. Who spit in your oats this morning?”

“Now you owe me ten cents.”

“I don’t know how Cassie puts up with you.”

Gideon lifted his eyebrows. He didn’t either. With a piece of sandpaper, he smoothed the part where the leg had once rested. “Hand me that can of nails there.”

Jack reached for it. “Oh, so now I’m useful.”

“No. You’re just in my way.” But Gideon chuckled as he shuffled through the rusty can, pulling out a pair of nails that would do the trick.

“Whatcha doin’ this for, anyway? That old bench has worked just fine for years.”

“Guess I wanted to see if it could work better than fine.” Like something else he knew. Maybe there was more to life than just getting by. He’d realized that when he was with Lonnie, something in her had brought him to that point. But when everything he’d ever loved had been stripped away, the first thing he’d done was lose sight of that.

Tipping the bench on its side, he placed the leg in position and with a few taps, hammered it on. He set it upright and shuffled through a box of sandpaper, all of which had seen better days, and found one with enough fine grit to work.

The sun made its graceful arc in the clear blue sky, but he hardly noticed. Jack spent most of the time talking, and Gideon listened on, finding himself laughing more than once at the stories the kid told. He worked fresh oil into the bench, coating every surface.

It wasn’t until shadows stretched long across the yard that he brushed dust from his work surface. Jack swept the floor as Gideon put away his tools.

“Thanks for the company,” Gideon finally said. He could remember a time when it was he and Jebediah working together. Reaching out, he shook Jack’s hand and, with a slap on the young man’s back, led him from the shop. “Suppose I’ll follow you and walk Cassie back.”

“Look who’s turnin’ out to be quite the gentleman.”

Hardly. Yet the desire to try kept growing within him.

Cassie sat on the porch with her ma, a plate of cookies between them. Upon seeing Gideon, she rose, said a good-bye to her mother, and hurried toward him.

Her breathing was heavy when she came to his side.

“You feelin’ all right?”

“I think so. I’m a little tired. Ma and Pa are headed to the church. It’s been so long since we’ve gone, it would be nice. Especially with it being Christmas. But”—she looped her arm through his, and Gideon couldn’t ignore the heat that penetrated his shirt—“I just don’t feel up to it.”

“Why don’t we go inside, and you can take it easy.”

“Sounds good, but I’ve got to get supper together.” Her eyes seemed clouded as she looked up at him. “I thought I could fix us something special.”

Gideon reached an arm around her. “Let me do it.”

“You?” She peered up into his face in awe.

“Hey, I’ve been known to throw together a batch of hot cakes now and again.” He held the door with his back and helped Cassie over the threshold. “Maybe it’s been a few years, but if you sit at the table and put your feet up, you can talk me through it.”

The crease in her forehead softened, and she smiled. “If you insist.”

She sat, and he pulled a chair around, then helped her perch stockinged feet on the seat.

As he mixed the batter, he felt Cassie quietly watching him. Gideon cracked an egg, and the yolk landed in the bowl. When he wiped his fingers on his pants, he fought the urge to turn around and look at her. He picked up a small can.

“How much of the leavening stuff?”

She half smiled. “About a teaspoon.”

Gideon shuffled through the silverware crock and held one up. “Too big?”

She nodded, and he rummaged for a smaller one. As he stirred the lumpy batter, his chest tightened. All that afternoon he’d worked in his shop. For hours he had labored away. Not for Lonnie—for Cassie. In truth, he hadn’t once thought about the woman he’d sworn to love forever. Instead, his thoughts had lingered on the blue-eyed girl sitting behind him. The girl who had knit him a scarf in secret despite everything he had done and said to her.