Though My Heart Is Torn: The Cadence of Grace, Book 2 (40 page)

Cassie sang beside him. “My name is graven on His hands. My name is written on His heart.”

Shifting on his feet, Gideon read the words again. He couldn’t imagine the name
Gideon O’Riley
written on the Lord’s heart.

It was impossible.

The congregation sang on, but Gideon couldn’t make the song form. Even so, he followed along, each word sinking into him like a stone into a river. Plummeting to the bottom. The stones built on one another, filling him in a way that made him glance at Cassie. Not Lonnie. Cassie. She peered up at him, a smile on her face. He loosened his tie, not because it was bothersome, but because he wanted to draw a deep breath. Pull into his lungs whatever it was that flowed in this wooden room.

The words sank in as no words ever had. They seemed to fill him. Fill the spaces of his soul that had felt so empty. “Upward I look and see Him there who made an end of all my sin.” Gideon lifted his eyes to the window behind Reverend Gardner, the small panes crisscrossing over a fog-shrouded sky. The door sat propped open behind him, and he shivered as the mist worked its way in. Cassie moved closer.

It didn’t fall past him that it was the same doorway he had escorted Lonnie through. His young bride. Gideon lifted his eyes to the rafters above. A plea—no, a prayer—filling his heart.
Lord, be with them. Take care of them in the ways I cannot. Look after my son. Be with Lonnie
. A lump filled his throat, and he tried to swallow it down.
Be with Cassie and with me. Show me what to do
. Gideon hung his head.
Show me what to do
.

The wind rose, and the door shook ever so slightly. An unbound strand of Cassie’s hair brushed against him. She wiped it away, but the sensation lingered.

Lead me
. He could not do this on his own. Not one more step of it.

Lonnie lowered her hand mirror and patted her hair for the third time. With a sigh, she grabbed the handle once more and examined her handiwork. Freshly bathed, her hair was still damp and shiny. She had combed it smooth and shaped it into an artful bun at the nape of her neck, finally securing it in more loops and coils than seemed prudent—something she never did. As she wrapped a brown ribbon around the mass and tied it in a secure bow, she bit her lip. Was it too much?

The grandfather clock in the parlor announced the time, and she scarcely breathed as she counted all six chimes. Toby would arrive at any moment. Wringing her hands, she turned on the ball of her foot to find herself looking at Jacob. He sat in the center of her bed, the stains on his rumpled sweater a reminder of the mashed pumpkin and molasses he had eaten for supper.

He looked up at Lonnie but continued rolling his blocks around in front of him. The freshly carved wood only made Toby come to mind—dark hair, dimples. Lonnie picked up a block and turned it in her hand. Jacob peered up at her with wide green eyes. Toby’s image vanished. Peering into her son’s face, she saw nothing but Gideon, the man she had once thought forever hers. Jacob reached for his block, and Lonnie let it fall into his lap. Spinning away, she pressed her palms to
her burning cheeks.
Why Gideon? Why now?
He was Cassie’s. She was a fool to think otherwise.

A noise captured her attention, and Lonnie rushed to the window, pushed back the curtains, and tried not to be seen as she peered into the yard. Gael trotted into view. Lonnie stepped back slightly but saw Toby lift his face to her window. He was here. He had come to call … on her.

She smoothed her eyelet blouse and straightened the lace collar. Her hands flew to her hair, and as soon as she had tucked a silken strand in place, Lonnie forced her hands to her sides. She watched Toby dismount and lead Gael to the barn. She nibbled the tip of her thumb until he emerged a minute later, smoothing his brown jacket. He seemed to hesitate ever so slightly before approaching the back door. He disappeared beneath the porch eaves. Then Lonnie heard a knock.

“Well, Jacob,” she murmured against the window. Lifting her hand, she touched the cold glass. “This is it.”

The back door opened. The back door closed. Lonnie lifted Jacob from the bed and rested him on her hip. “This is it,” she whispered.

She left the bedroom and walked to the stairs. As she slid her fingers down the cold banister, the freshly oiled wood felt too smooth and tranquil beneath her balmy hand.

Happy voices rang from the kitchen, but their cheer did not quicken her pace. Lonnie turned the corner, and her freshly scrubbed boots found the large rug at the base of the stairs.
Lord, grant me peace
. With a heavy sigh, she pulled Jacob close and kissed his soft cheek. “Be my comfort.” Even as her heart pounded and her knees trembled, she started into the kitchen.
Direct my steps
.

Jacob was beautiful when he slept. Motionless, with only the rise and fall of his tiny chest, he was impossible not to watch. Enchanted by the boy’s hair that curled around his cherub face, Gideon found himself unable to turn away. His son’s mother slept at his side, her fingers curled instinctively against his cheek as if she couldn’t help touching him, even in her sleep. Her pale ankles were crossed. Bare beneath her nightgown. Gideon considered waking her. But she was so peaceful—they both were.

Then someone called his name. Why did they have to bother him now? He was finally with his family. Finally close enough to scoop his son up in his arms. He’d just gotten here, and he wasn’t ready to give this up. Not yet. Whoever it was would just have to wait.

“Gideon.”

His name was called again. Suddenly, he couldn’t see his family anymore. There was nothing but darkness. Then the darkness started to tremble, and Gideon found himself opening his eyes. He blinked at the room around him, so different from what his dreams held.

“Gideon.”

He sat up with a start. Looking around, he took a moment to absorb his surroundings. The room was nearly dark except for the few candles flickering about the room.

“You were sleeping so peacefully, I didn’t want to wake you.”

“I can’t believe I fell asleep. It feels like I just sat down.” Moving closer to the bed, he straightened the quilt around Cassie’s waist.

“You did just sit down. That’s what was so funny.” Her eyes wouldn’t meet his.

“Are you—”

“I’m fine.”

He pressed a hand to her forehead, smoothing unruly strands away from her face. The flush was gone from her skin, the rash nearly faded. “You look like you’re feeling better.” He sank onto the bed beside her.

“I feel a little stronger this morning.”

“You don’t know how good it sounds to hear you say that. Can I get you something?” Eying the empty cup on the nightstand, he offered to get her more tea.

“No. Thank you.”

“You didn’t finish your dinner. I hope the hot cakes weren’t—”

“They were wonderful. I just wasn’t hungry quite yet.”

“Like you weren’t hungry for the stew from yesterday or the eggs from the day before?”

With a slight smile, Cassie reached for her plate and speared the last few bites onto her fork, finally stuffing the unladylike stack into her mouth. She made a funny face. “I think you used a little too much leavening.”

Gideon chuckled. “Sorry about that.” He shook his head. “I thought something was wrong. You’re not the greatest actress; do you know that?”

She shrugged playfully, still chewing, but her eyes were sad.

“Seeing as you’ve been indoors so much the last week, I thought a
little fresh air was in order.” Without waiting to see her response, Gideon hoisted her off the bed, quilt and all. She weighed hardly anything.

“What are you doing?” The thrill in her voice was refreshing. “I can walk!”

Smiling, Gideon blew out the candle on the nightstand, then stepped carefully to the dresser where he blew out another. The room fell dark. It took a moment for his eyes to find the doorway, and he stepped toward it.

Then he heard her gasp. Felt the intake of breath through the quilt. It was the only response he needed. Suppressing a smile, Gideon carried her through the dark house, toward the glow of the fire he’d built in the yard, just off the porch. The flames licked the cold night air, dancing for their audience of two. The sun had all but set, its final efforts scattered along the horizon like tiny candles, refusing to be snuffed out. The dips and rises of the snow were painted in dark valleys of blue, shimmering mountains of orange.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“Thought you could use a change of scenery.”

Cassie lowered her head to his shoulder and kissed it. She ran a hand over her eyes as if she were fighting something back.

He kept his voice light. “Your throne,” he teased, swiveling toward the chair he’d set out for her.

He felt Cassie shake her head against his shoulder. “I like this,” she whispered.

Gideon hesitated, then allowed his body to relax. Pressing his back against the porch post, he sank to the top step of the stairs and leaned back. “How’s this?” he whispered into her hair.

“Perfect.”

The fire crackled and popped, then seemed to grow brighter. Gideon glanced down at Cassie’s face and saw the soft glow dance across her features. As if she noticed he was watching, her lashes flicked upward. Troubled blue eyes met his.

“Let me know if you get too cold, now.” He shifted her against his chest. “I’ll take you right back in. We need to be careful with you still.” He fell silent when he saw her gaze had drifted into the dark.

Her eyebrows pulled together.

“So you can get your strength back.”

“I don’t know if I care.” The words came out soft—distant.

Gideon felt his eyes narrow. “Don’t say that.”

She nestled her head against him without responding. They sat that way for several minutes.

“Gideon.”

“Hmm?”

“What were you dreaming about?”

“When?”

“Inside. Just now, when I woke you.”

“I don’t remember.”

Cassie pulled back slightly in his embrace. She turned her face to his. “Yes you do.”

Gideon stared at the fire for a long time before he spoke, and when he finally did, he knew it would be impossible to keep the ache he felt out of his voice. “What difference does it make?”

“It makes a world of difference.”

Glancing down, he studied her, took in the taut lines etched into place by her stubborn curiosity. “Why do you ask?”

She stared into the darkness. When she spoke, each word came out slow, controlled. “Because you said, ‘I love you.’ ”

Gideon felt his Adam’s apple rise and fall. “I did?”

“Twice.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing.

After a long silence, Cassie pressed her cheek to his shoulder.

“I don’t want to wear you out.” He kissed the top of her head—a habit, nothing more. But if he kept doing it long enough, and the days turned into months, the months turned into years. Gideon ran his hand over his eyes, willing himself not to think of it.

“You are so sweet.”

He grunted. “And you’re generous.”

“I’m horrible.”

“What?”

Her voice plunged toward silence. “I’m ashamed.”

“Ashamed? Cassie, what are you talking about?” He pushed her away, but only so he could see her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Gideon, I—” She scooted to sit beside him, nestling in the shadows.

Chilled, Gideon folded his arms across his chest.

Her face was pure agony. “I should never have done this.” She shook her head slowly. “Yesterday in church, the reverend’s message felt like it was just for me.”

“What was it?”

“He spoke of honesty. Letting your yes be your yes and your no be your no.” She held up Lonnie’s letter. He hadn’t realized she’d been holding it. “This was my yes. This was me telling you that I wanted you out of my life and that I would follow through. But I didn’t.”

He watched her swallow.

“You thought you were free to marry another, and I did nothing to stop you. I didn’t hold to my promise to see that everything was finalized between us. I didn’t come to you. I didn’t do anything. And you married Lonnie.”

“Cassie—”

“You had Jacob.”