My Hope Is Found: The Cadence of Grace, Book 3 (31 page)

As the fat melted, she rushed into the kitchen for her soap molds. In the low cupboard, she pulled out a trio of old pans and hurried back into the sunshine and her soap mixture that desperately needed to be stirred. Working an old spoon through it, she waited for the trace, the telltale sign that the soap was ready to pour. Her spoon hit the table, and with a flick of her wrist, she sprinkled in specks of thyme. The familiar motions—the busy dance of this work—filled her with contentment.

At the sound of hooves, she glanced up. Toby rode into the yard, his black coat flapping open. She forced herself to keep her hands steady as she filled the first pan. Nearing, he dismounted. His gaze as earnest and as kind as she’d ever known. The last drops of soap mixture dripped into the third pan, and she set the pot aside.

“Afternoon,” he said when he neared.

She peered up into the face she’d come to know so well. “It’s good to see you, Toby.” She meant it with all her heart.

“And you.” He smiled and a dimple dented each cheek. He stood a
moment watching her. “Oh, wait.” He opened the saddlebag and pulled out a wilted bouquet. “Och, these looked better a quarter of an hour ago.” He held them gently in his oversized hands, the sight touching her heart. He handed them to Lonnie. “It’s to say sorry for walking away the other day. I was just …”

And she knew. Lonnie smelled the flowers. “You have nothing to be sorry about. If you only knew the gentleman that you are.”

He ran a hand through his hair, expression humble.

“A bit of water, and they’ll perk right up. I’m nearly done here, and then we can walk up to the house.” She peered up at him. “I’d love to sit and talk. There’s so much to say. I can put on some tea.”

“I canna stay long. I just came to say good-bye.”

“Good-bye?”

He chuckled. “For a few days. I’m going to take some money to the church up in Richland Knob. A large group has been meeting in a barn for years, and we’re putting in some funds to help them break ground on a small building.”

Gently setting the flowers at her side, Lonnie tapped the pan, letting bubbles rise to the surface of the soap mixture, her mind no longer on the task. “That’s wonderful. How long are you going to be gone?”

“Just a few days.”

Addie bounded into the yard. “Reverend McKee!” she squealed and hopped over a puddle, then another, her path zigzagging to find them. Barreling past him, she buried herself in Lonnie’s skirt, then poked a grin around just for him. “I’m ever so glad you’re here. I want to show you my horsy! Mr. Gideon fixed it for me, right quick. He even let me use his hammer.” Tongue sticking out the side of her mouth, she mimicked a pounding motion. “And I only squished his finger twice!”

Lonnie’s eyes widened, and Addie bounded back the way she’d come.

“I think perhaps he has a new admirer.” Toby winked at Lonnie, but his eyes were sad. In a motion that caught her by surprise, he reached out and brushed his thumb over her cheek. A farewell—she could feel it.

And she knew he wasn’t really talking about Addie.

Toby glanced past her, and following his gaze, Lonnie saw Gideon leaning against the doorway of the barn, wiping paint from his hands with a rag.

A tip of his hat and Toby stepped back. “I need to speak to him. I will see you soon,” he promised. His eyes found Lonnie’s. “Good-bye.”

Gideon watched as Toby walked toward him. The man nodded cordially, and Gideon returned the nod. He stepped into the barn. Toby followed. Picking his chisel up, Gideon looked around for something to keep his hands busy. His fields called to him. Sweat called to him. But this would just have to do. He pulled down a kitchen stool he’d started for Elsie and worked the chisel through the soft wood.

“I see you got the rest of the field cleared.”

“Suppose I could have waited.” Eyes on his work, the shavings fell.

“But you didn’t.” Toby’s voice held admiration.

“Yeah, well, I’m sorta new to this patience thing.” Gideon pressed the chisel in deeper—wounding. He forced himself to take a deep breath.

“At least you’re trying.”

Gideon tossed the chisel aside before he lost a finger.

“I don’t know how you’re doing it.” Toby watched him.

Gideon let out a heavy breath. The man was the epitome of patience.

“You’ve been home for days, Gideon.” Toby glanced at the house. “And still …” He shook his head. “If it were me, I’d have married Lonnie by now.”

“Are you waiting for me to put you out of your misery?”

Toby said nothing.

“Lonnie needs to choose. It’s the best way, and we both know it.” He’d watched the exchange between them. The tender way Toby reached for her. The tender way she responded.

Gideon grabbed a piece of sandpaper, but it felt insufficient. He needed a hammer. An ax. He wanted to crush the wood in his hands, not make something out of it. Forcing himself to cradle the sandpaper gently, he fought the urge to give up.

“I’ll be gone for a few days. Heading up to Richland Knob. I have a deliv’ry for the church there.”

“Well … try not to get eaten by a bear while you’re gone.”

“I’ll do my best.” Toby scratched the back of his head, then glanced at the sun that was rising higher. Jebediah was walking toward them. “I need to be going. I have a few things to see to before I leave.”

Gideon watched his greatest rival walk from the barn. His greatest fear mounted the dark mare and, with a click of his heels, disappeared from view. If only life were that simple.

Gael lumbered along slowly, and as much as Toby knew he should tap his heels, urge her on quicker, he no longer cared that he was running late. There wasn’t much about this day that made him in a hurry to be anywhere. For no matter where he went, troubles of mind would follow.

The air was aglow. Lit with an early evening sun that glinted on the wildflowers that traced the edge of the road. Hedging the path in beauty when everything inside Toby was anything but. He was about to lose all he held dear. Nay … he’d already lost it the moment Gideon had stepped back into their lives.

Lonnie loved Gideon. Of that he had no doubt. And someday soon, Gideon would make her his bride. His wife. The thought gnawed at Toby’s heart, though it was nothing other than what must be. What
should
be. For Gideon had already made Lonnie his wife a long time ago, and that bond was not easily severed, no matter how much Toby had wished it were so.
It must be
. But he loathed the thought.

Deep down in every dark corner of his heart, he hated it. Realizing his jaw was clenched, Toby forced himself to relax.

That kind of thinking couldn’t live. It couldn’t thrive inside him. Not
if he were to truly walk in the Lord’s will. Even so, he couldn’t linger and watch it all unfold before him. To simply close his eyes—pretend it wasn’t happening—was beyond him. He wasn’t strong enough to stand by as their lives went on together. Wasn’t strong enough to stand in the church where they would give themselves to one another again. He pulled his hat off and set it on the saddle.

No. It was time to begin again.

For days—nay, weeks—he hadn’t known how he would step out of Lonnie’s life. Didn’t know how he would bid farewell to Jacob. To Addie. But the time had come. One last farewell, and he would start a new life down a new path.

He’d already told Reverend Gardner. The head position would have to go to someone else. He couldn’t stay here. Though it killed him to think of not watching those children grow up. Killed him to think of not growing old with Lonnie. Never bringing her home as his bride.

He tightened his grip on the reins. “Git on up!” That life was dead, and the less he thought about what may have been, the better. He’d go mad otherwise.

As the smoke from his chimney faded into memory, Toby’s thumb grazed the metal of the shotgun that balanced on the saddle in front of him. He had no intention of using it, but Reverend Gardner had insisted. The older man had looked him square in the eye as he handed him the double-barrel.

“I won’t send a man off with that much money in his pocket unarmed.”

Even as he remembered the reverend’s words, Toby patted his coat pocket, the lump beneath his hand enough to help raise the new building. Gael flicked her head, and Toby patted her dark neck. “Easy, girl.”

A glance to the left showed the sun flickering like a candle between
two peaks as clouds feathered across a purple sky, and he prepared himself for what was sure to be a cold evening. He shrugged deeper into his coat, glad there was another hour before dark. He’d arranged lodgings for nightfall, but he was behind in his course and wouldn’t make it until much later than planned.

His saddle creaked when he turned. Toby glanced around at familiar, spindly trees. Gael plodded along. Her steps sure. A pace that would get them to Richland Knob by the following evening. He settled into the saddle for the hours ahead. Trying to find pleasure in the silence and solitude. To be content to simply remember all he owed thanks for. An abundance of blessings that he had taken for granted much too often.

His life had seemed to stretch out for miles and miles, the path clear, the future bright. But now it seemed to swallow itself in doubt. Disbelief. And he no longer sensed what was around the corner. A few days ago, he’d been certain it no longer included Lonnie, and he tried not to give the words Gideon had spoken to him any weight.

“Lonnie needs to choose. It’s the best way, and we both know it.”

Wasn’t the choice already made? Yet he sensed doubt in every step that Gideon took. What was the man afraid of? Toby rubbed a hand over his face. Surely she wouldn’t choose anyone but him. It made no sense. Who was Toby compared to Gideon? The man knew everything about her. He’d been there from the beginning. He was Jacob’s father. Toby’s heart tightened with yearning. He wanted to kick himself for letting his thoughts wander back to what ought never to be.

Lifting his face to the horizon, where the first star appeared in a graying sky, he asked the Lord to fill the weary spaces of his spirit. Prayed for that comfort to fill him. The wholeness that he’d been yearning for. The surrender he’d been fighting against.

With Addie at her elbow, Lonnie scrubbed the last plate and shook off droplets of water. She handed it to her sister, who had a damp towel at the ready. Elsie ran a broom over the floorboards, sweeping dust and flour toward the door, where the tuning of Gideon’s mandolin filtered in from the cool evening. Clearly eager to finish, Addie stacked the last of the plates and hopped down from her stool.

“May I be done?” she asked, tugging on the strings of her apron.

“Yes, and thank you for your help. Why don’t you run on upstairs and get into your nightgown?”

“Might I go outside?”

“It’s getting late. Why don’t you climb into bed, and I’ll leave the window open a bit so you can listen as you fall asleep.”

Addie scurried into the parlor, small feet padding up the stairs. Lonnie peeked into the parlor to see that Jebediah had rocked Jacob to sleep. After placing a trio of cups in the high cupboard, she wiped the table with a damp rag. Her hand traced the wood in rhythm with Gideon’s playing. The song was slow. Sweet. And wholly peaceful. A hymn she’d never heard him play before. Lonnie felt her feet carry her to the doorway, where a sprinkle of stars blinked down from a darkening sky.

In the fading light, Gideon sat against the porch railing, feet stretched out along the top step. His boots were unlaced, one over the other. Leaning against the jamb, Lonnie crossed her ankles and watched him. The familiar hymn seemed to fill her, and she hummed along. When the last notes faded, Gideon looked at her.

“Not quite sure where that came from.” His face was pensive.

“ ‘It Is Well with My Soul.’ When did you learn it?”

A shrug of his shoulder, and he ducked his head, feigning interest with
the cuff of his pants. He bent the folds of denim with his thick fingers, then looked up at her. “Just picked it up. S’pose I heard it at church a time or two, and it just sort of came back to me. What was it called again?”

She repeated the title, and when he nodded thoughtfully, she added, “Yet you know it so well.”