Though My Heart Is Torn: The Cadence of Grace, Book 2 (39 page)

She didn’t like the answer she came up with.

He had a wife. A son. And she had lied to him. Lied about his freedom. All for what? Because she was scared? undecided? Cassie cringed. She tried to move her legs, but they felt so heavy. She focused instead on the hand holding hers. Tears stung her eyes.

Lonnie. Jacob. They were somewhere out there. His family.

The lump in her throat grew.

“Easy, girl,” Lonnie patted Sugar’s thick neck. She tugged her shawl tighter and slid from the broad-backed mule, sinking into ankle-deep snow. Her hands were stiff with cold and her movements slow, but Lonnie managed to tie Sugar’s line to a low spruce branch. She turned and laid a gloved hand on the gentle animal’s back long enough to gather what courage she had inside herself.

The small shanty sat silent before her. The thin trail of smoke that swirled from the stovepipe promised that the man she sought was home. Although the curtains were pulled open, Lonnie saw nothing but the faint flicker of candlelight coming from the small building. With the sun a mere hour from setting, the cozy hollow was already swallowed in shadow.

Lonnie tugged the burlap sack from Sugar’s back. When she stepped forward, her boots crunched in the snow. She held her breath, convinced that the faint sound would give away her presence. She stared at the front door, wondering if Toby would appear.
Silly girl
, Lonnie chided herself. Of course he wouldn’t. Did she expect him to be waiting for her?

He had better things to do.

She tiptoed up the single step, crossed the tiny porch, and although her conscience scolded her, peeked in the one and only window. Two stubby candles burned along a narrow mantel. And then she saw him.

Toby
.

His back was to her. A shirt was draped over a chair, and standing in his pants, he ran a cloth across his chest and down his broad arm. Lonnie gasped and jumped back. Shame burned her cheeks, and she struggled to dislodge the image from her mind.

Forcing herself to turn her attention to the matter at hand, she dropped the sack at her feet. Her fist hesitated before striking the door.

When she finally knocked, she heard Toby’s deep voice call out. “Coming!”

She listened as he stumbled about.

The door flew open. With his eyes down, Toby pushed the top button of his shirt through its hole. He glanced up, his eyes registered her, and he stumbled back. Turning away, he stuffed the rest of the buttons into their places. “Lonnie.” His ears reddened. “What are you doing here?”

She lowered her gaze until he stepped forward. “I’ve come to ask you something.” Her feet remained glued to the porch. Her eyes searched the tiny room behind him as if the sight of his home would give away secrets about the man who lived there.

Toby’s wide eyes explored her face.

Her heart pounded in her chest, but she was fueled by her resolve. “I brought this,” she blurted. “Just some clothes that I wanted to donate to the church.” As Toby continued to stare at her, she felt her strength wavering. “Perhaps you know of a family … a man … who could use them.”

He clutched the top of the sack and slid it toward himself. His eyebrows pulled together. “A young man?”

“Yes.”

He spoke the words slowly. “These things must be dear to you.”

“Maybe once … but not now.” The half-truth sent a jolt of pain through her.

His eyes met hers, hunger clear in the brown depths. “Would you like to come in?”

“I’m sure it would be better if I didn’t.” Although she tried not to let her gaze linger, the damp curls at the nape of his neck stole her attention.
Perhaps this visit wasn’t a good idea after all
.

Toby fiddled with the loose cuff of his shirt. “Sorry. It was inconsiderate of me to ask.”

Unable to think of a response, Lonnie waved toward Sugar. “I should probably be going.” What a fool she must look. Such a long journey and in the dead of winter, only to deliver a donation of clothing. She bit her lip and hoped Toby would not think her a fool.

“Well, this was kind of you.” Pressing his hand against the door-jamb, he ran his thumb over the oiled wood. His casual stance did little to conceal his tortured expression. “I ken several families who have a need.” His eyes softened when they landed on her face, and Lonnie saw a twinge of pain, an understanding she did not expect. “ ’Specially this time of year.”

She shifted from one foot to the other, growing colder by the moment.

Toby clumsily darted away from the door and returned with a black coat. “Please take this,” he urged.

Too cold to do otherwise, she accepted the garment. She still had a long ride home. Without standing on ceremony, she slipped the oversized coat over her shoulders, and as the thick fabric blocked out the chill, she fought back a smile. Folding the collar up, Lonnie let the tip
of her nose brush against the rough wool—a habit.
Why did I do that?
She hoped Toby hadn’t noticed. Her cheeks burned, and Lonnie wanted to kick herself. “Well, I better be going.” She backed away.

“Wait.” The tips of his fingers brushed against hers.

The faint touch sent a bolt of heat through Lonnie’s arm. It ended in her toes. Toby stepped forward and closed the door behind him. He hurried to tuck in his shirttails, but his wet hair and socks did little to change his untailored appearance. “I … I feel like I should say something.” His brows lifted sheepishly. “But I don’t know what.” He gestured toward the sack of clothes. “This can’t be easy for you.”

“It’s fine.”

“Fine?”

“It’s life,” she blurted. She would not cry. Lonnie blinked quickly.

Toby’s eyes explored hers. His warm palm wrapped around her cold fingers, and Lonnie felt her whole arm stiffen. “You should get home,” he whispered. “It’s getting colder by the minute.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but her mind was suddenly blank. “You’re right. I really better go. Sugar’ll be wantin’ her oats soon.” Toby released her hand, and Lonnie tucked her fists inside the pockets of his coat. “Elsie mentioned you might be comin’ by for Sunday supper. I suppose I will see you then.”

“Lonnie, I…,” he began.

She froze but her pulse quickened.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Toby crossed his arms over his chest.

Lonnie could see her own breath before her face, and for a moment, she wished she had taken him up on his offer to step inside. A warm fire called to her like Eden’s apple, but she knew it was better not to partake.
Besides, the coat that covered her shoulders blocked out the chill, and even as she huddled beneath its warmth, she couldn’t help but think of the man to whom it belonged.

“Would you mind. I mean, would it be all right.” His voice trailed off and he glanced away.

He sighed. Lifting his thick arms, he ran his hands through his hair, and a deep groan growled out of him. “Would it be all right if I came to call on you sometime? Not just to see Elsie and Jebediah, but to … see you.” His brown eyes widened. “To be with you.”

When a cool breeze crept up her stockings and ruffled her petticoats, Lonnie crossed her ankles, one over the other.

His face a jumble of emotions, Toby moistened his lips, setting his dimples even deeper as he waited for her response. For the briefest moment, she no longer noticed the man before her.

Another face came to mind, and Lonnie’s breath caught.
Forgive me, Gideon
. There was nothing left for her to do but move on. Besides, she needed to be loved. She
wanted
to be loved. After drawing in a shaky breath, she relieved Toby of his doubts. “That would be all right.”

Gideon shifted in his seat, wondering how long this would take. He glanced at a window, where the January sky glinted gray on the glass. His collar was buttoned too high, and his tie was too tight. He tugged at the knot at his throat, and when a plump woman in a bonnet arched an eyebrow, he pressed his palms to the pew seat beneath him and leaned forward into a stand. He helped Cassie to her feet, laying her small hand on his arm. At his side, Cassie held the hymnal. She sang the words as if she knew them by heart, her pretty voice soft.

He heard a rustling beside him, and his father pressed his shoulder against Gideon’s. It wasn’t uncommon for the O’Rileys to be tardy to church, and seeing the flush on his ma’s face, he could only imagine the morning she’d had. She ushered his brothers and sisters into the row. She stood like a sober bookend, the baby in her arms.

The hymn came to an end, the vibration of a church full of singers drawing soft. Silent. Cassie sat, and Gideon settled beside her.

His father leaned toward him. “This came for you last week.” He pulled a letter from his vest pocket. Gideon reached out and took it. Turning it over, he spotted Lonnie’s handwriting. A cold sensation puddled in his chest.

Reverend Gardner moved to the front of the church, his movements slow, drawn out. Gideon tapped his foot anxiously, knee bouncing haphazardly. His pulse raced, the cold turning into a heat—a
fever—that forced him from the bench. “Excuse me,” he whispered to Cassie. She leaned back, and Gideon sidestepped from the pew, barreling toward the door as if Reverend Gardner was not in the middle of his prayer. Heads lifted, but he didn’t stop.

Lonnie
.

The sides of his jacket flapped open when he strode into the icy mist that surrounded the church. His boots thundered down the steps, past crooked tombstones that sank haphazardly into the moist grass. It wasn’t until the reverend’s voice was but a memory that he finally stopped. Crouching, he rested his forearm on his knee and studied the letter. The paper was worse for wear, but that was Lonnie’s pretty writing. Make no mistake. A muscle tripped through his jaw.

He tore into the envelope, letting the ripped portion float on the breeze that tousled his tie. He shook the envelope, and a single page fell into his palm. A flip of the folds and her words were before him, sinking into the deep mire of his heart that he’d forced numb. He breathed her name. He breathed their son’s name. Tears stung his eyes as he read words of Jacob’s life. How the boy was growing, what trouble he managed to get into. Gideon chuckled and swiped his hand over his eyes when the page blurred. His sweet Jacob.

Lonnie’s words grew smaller as if trying to squeeze more onto the page—more into her message, into his heart.
Oh, Lonnie
. He touched her soft letters, emotion bubbling up inside him. How he missed her. He read the letter once, twice. At the sound of a hymn rising from the chapel, he knew he’d been gone almost an hour. Knowing he’d be sorely missed, Gideon forced himself to stand and, carefully folding the page that had grown supple in the misty air, slid it into his pocket. He strode into the church. More heads turned. In the span of a few whispers,
he was at his pew, sliding back beside Cassie. His pulse still raced. He cleared his throat, realizing how heavy he was breathing.

Cassie leaned toward him. “Are you all right?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Gideon pulled out the letter and handed it to her. She studied the inscription a moment before sliding it into her apron pocket. Her face was grave. Gideon hated parting with the letter, but he didn’t want to hide it from Cassie. It wouldn’t be right.

The reverend stood for a final benediction. They rose, and Cassie’s hand was soft beside Gideon’s. Feeling more than a few eyes on him, Gideon covered her palm with his. The reverend closed his Bible and clutched it to his chest.

The reverend’s eyes never found his, but Gideon felt the man’s words as if they stood boot to boot. “I pray that as you go out this day, you will be reminded of God’s calling in your life. Be of strong faith; be of good courage.” He nodded and lifted his hymnal. “We’ll close with a favorite of mine, number one hundred and three.”

Licking his thumb, Gideon struggled to find the page. Reaching over, Cassie helped him, her face soft, pensive. Finally, he smoothed his hand along the page. The congregation began.

“Before the throne of God above, I have a strong and perfect plea …”

Yes, he had a plea.

Gideon sang the words softly, the hymn foreign, yet a memory of it stirred within him. “A great high Priest whose Name is Love who ever lives and pleads for me.” Pleads for me. Gideon cleared his throat. Did God plead for him? He wanted to scoff. There was nothing in him, nothing about him, that was worthy of such an act of love. Surely God knew that.