Though My Heart Is Torn: The Cadence of Grace, Book 2 (15 page)

“You have to go. This is no place for you, and it’s no place for him. I need to know that you’re safe … that you’re loved. The Bennetts will take care of you and Jacob.”

With tender movements, Lonnie wrung out the rag. After a moment, she spoke slowly. “He’ll always remind me of you.” She laid her damp hand in his palm.

The candle flickered, sending shadows across the shop. Gideon tipped his chin to better look at her. He swallowed, surprised by the quickening of his pulse. His other hand moved to her hair and loosened the ribbon that bound it. The yellow fabric slipped free, and he slid it into his pocket. “I’m keeping this,” he whispered as he began to unravel
the twist at the nape of her neck. Loosening the strands, he felt her chestnut hair fill his hand. Silk on his fingers. When Lonnie closed her eyes, he kissed one eyelid and then the other.

“My wife.” The word rumbled low in his chest. Even if only for a few more hours. He was satisfied at the sound of it, yet heartbroken that a word was so important.

“How can it be over?” she whispered, the ache in her voice as thick as the fog outside the window.

Gideon shook his head as he released her hair, letting it cascade down her shoulder. It would never be over. There was nothing they could do to change the course of his heart. Though they might bar him from her life, she would be in him and through him. In every way.

Her sleep had been restless. The hours too few. Because the night before, Gideon had led her home beneath the lantern of a full moon. They had walked mostly in silence as if neither wanted to break the spell. It would have been easier to walk upstream on a stormy day than take the steps she made in the dark hours of night. The steps that took her further from the life that had once been.

And by the time her head hit the pillow, sleep eluded her. When she finally drifted off, her breathing had been rough. Her sighs many. There was no comfort even in the absence of mind. No dream sweet enough to keep her from the harsh reality that would come with daybreak.

Weak morning light filtered through the cracks in the roof. Lonnie rose and, taking care not to wake Jacob, pulled on her brown calico dress, sliding it over her shoulders with jerky, careless movements. She dragged stockings the color of coal up her calves, tugging them tight.

Her chin quivered, and she fought to steady it. But it was no use.

She slid her worn shoes silently into place and laced them over her ankles. After unraveling her braid, she pinned the twists and curls at the base of her neck with weak, shaky hands. The motions were slow, drawn out. As if to delay the inevitable.

But it was time to go. Lonnie glanced around the small space, wishing Gideon were here with her. Jacob still slept peacefully. Her mother
had promised to listen in on him. With that, Lonnie stepped from the lean-to, glad it had its own door to the outside. She did not want any lingering stares, any pitiful words of encouragement.

Lonnie started down the trail toward the church, but her ankles nearly collided as she glanced up and froze.

Gideon stood stone still looking more handsome than she’d ever seen him. His hair was slicked back and combed to one side. His crisp white shirt stood out in the foggy, misty morning. Despite the cold, he held his jacket draped over his shoulder.

“Gideon.”

“I just couldn’t waste this hour.”

She nearly smiled.

When he stepped closer, he slid his jacket over her shoulders. His earthy scent engulfed her. He fiddled with the cuffs of his freshly pressed shirt. His crisp collar lay folded into place, tempting her fingers to trace the line that ran above the fabric where his hair curled at the nape of his neck.

He cleared his throat, but his voice still came out gruff. “We better be off.”

As they walked, their eyes never met, although she felt him watching her when he thought she wasn’t looking. It was better that way. It was better they didn’t touch. It would only make saying good-bye harder.

The breeze scurried along in its haste. Lonnie held the jacket close as they were surrounded by the cold mist. The walk to the chapel would not take long. Their boots fell into a slow rhythm as they headed away from the small farm. One more hour. It could never take long enough.

His hand found hers, his fingers so soft and warm she didn’t know how she would let go. Fog devoured the trail ahead, forcing them to
take each step by memory. They walked in silence, but there was so much Lonnie yearned to say. He seemed to escort her, his shoulders nearly protective beside hers. Ahead lay the church. She’d never forget the hour they exchanged vows that soggy afternoon. Now, they were returning to undo what had been done. But the deep places of her heart were rooted and tangled—a love like that could never be undone.

Clearing his throat, he voiced her name. It fell from his lips like sweet honey. Would he ever have a reason to say her name again? Perhaps he would have to whisper it in the silent places of his heart to keep himself from losing his mind. They continued walking, and Gideon waited until he had her attention. He longed for her forgiveness, but that seemed selfish. He focused instead on bringing her peace.

“I’m sorry for what I’ve done,” he finally managed to say. “I never wanted to hurt you. I never meant to lose you.” He hoped she would hear the truth in his words. “I only loved you. I should have told you my past. I should have let you decide.”

Lonnie looked at him. “How I wish we could begin again.”

He stopped walking. “I should never have kept such a secret from you. But truly, Lonnie”—he paused long enough for her to turn toward him—“I thought myself a free man when I married you. I would never have done what I did had I known that Cassie—”

The shadow that crossed over Lonnie’s face made him wish he had never spoken the name. When she squinted, he knew she was trying not to cry.

After a long pause, Lonnie spoke. “This is the way it should be.” When she peered up at him, Gideon knew she was being brave for him.

“I don’t love Cassie.” Would she believe him?

“But you did. And”—glassy eyes focused on the fog-shrouded path ahead—“you will love her again.”

Gideon caught her arm, forcing her to halt. “No. I won’t. Please don’t say that.”

Lonnie allowed him to pull her forward. “What else is there to say? You have to. We had our time. But it was stolen time that never should have been.” Her eyelashes fluttered as she blinked away tears. “It’s time to let it go.”

The ache burned deeper. “Do you mean that, Lonnie? Is it that simple for you?”

She walked on, ignoring his question. Her hand slipped from his, and the distance between them grew as Gideon stared after her.

“Answer me, Lonnie.” He darted toward her and stepped in her path. She stopped. “Will it really be that easy for you? Because if it will, tell me now, and I will do everything in my power to accept this.”

Lonnie’s chin trembled. “Gid … I …”

He pulled her close. Lonnie coughed and choked on her tears. He held her face against his shoulder and closed his eyes. Their breathing melted into one as her chest rose and fell against his. His eyes burned. With fog hiding them from the world, he wished they could stay that way forever. When Lonnie’s body shook with sobs, he slammed his eyes shut, sending two tears plunging.

He kissed the top of her head. “I love you,” he whispered.

Reverend Gardner was waiting for them when they stepped through the church doors. A fire crackled in the potbellied stove, making the church surprisingly warm. Lonnie slid out of Gideon’s jacket and handed it back to him. Gideon loosened his tie. His pa had loaned it to him. He’d tried to refuse, then in the end gave in.

Not for Cassie. For Lonnie.

He grazed her sleeve with the back of his hand. Reverend Gardner eyed the action, and his eyebrows lifted. Gideon stared at him, daring him to speak. The silence was broken only by droplets that fell from the ceiling into a bucket in the corner.

The reverend was somber. He accepted the paper, and an unexpected look of surprise passed over his features. Carefully unfolding the wrinkled document, he scanned the page and grunted. Gideon began to speak, but the reverend silenced him by lifting a weathered hand.

“I must admit,” the gray-haired man began, “I am surprised to hold this right now.” His voice dropped to a low murmur. “I could never imagine what this has cost you both.”

Gideon tipped back his chin, surprised by the man’s blunt sentiment. Had this been the will of the church or simply the personal ambition of Reverend Brown? If so, perhaps it was not too late. “Do you mean to say—”

“What I mean is, had there been another way, I would have fought for it. But”—Reverend Gardner dipped his pen in the inkwell on his desk and held it aloft—“there was nothing that could be done.” A droplet of ink dripped onto the paper. The reverend quickly scribbled his name. Lonnie looked at Gideon, her eyes filled with unshed tears. She pulled her hand slowly from his. The ink pen fell to the desk with a soft
clang
.

It was finished.

When Reverend Gardner cleared his throat, Lonnie looked at him. “Your ring.” He said it so softly Gideon scarcely heard.

Lonnie tugged the tin from her finger and slid it into Gideon’s palm. Her head shook from side to side, but she said nothing. She sank onto the pew. Not wanting to let her go, Gideon sat beside her.

His gaze soft, Reverend Gardner peered at them. “You’re doing the right thing. God has many blessings in store for you both.”

As much as Gideon wanted to believe him, he couldn’t. How could God have any role in this? It was Gideon’s mistakes and his alone that had placed him here. Was God even watching? Did He know what was about to happen? Obviously not or He would put a stop to this. Not for his sake—of that he was certain. But surely God cared about Lonnie and Jacob. His frustrations mounting, Gideon glared at the reverend.

The man in black rose. He pulled his chair from behind the desk and set it with a
thud
in front of them. “Take Lonnie’s hand.”

When Gideon hesitated, Reverend Gardner tipped his head, a silent signal that it was all right. Gideon slid his hand over Lonnie’s, and their fingers interlocked.

“There has been something missing in all this, and I don’t blame Reverend Brown … I blame myself.” The stout man placed a cool hand
over theirs and gave a firm squeeze. “Will you bow your heads with me?” He removed his glasses and set them on his knee. Closing his eyes, he bowed his head.

Lonnie and Gideon exchanged glances, and when she bowed her head, Gideon followed suit. The reverend closed his eyes. With quick fingers, Gideon slid the ring in Lonnie’s apron pocket. He heard her breath catch.

“We come before You, Heavenly Father.” The reverend paused.

Gideon glanced up.

Reverend Gardner wiped a bead of sweat from his wrinkled brow and ran his palm across his leg. Then Gideon saw an emotion he did not expect. The man looked dismayed. After clearing his throat, he began again. “We come before You, Heavenly Father, to ask forgiveness for our sins. Our transgressions have been many.”

Rain plopped into the bucket.
Drip. Drop
.

“I pray their hearts will be comforted as they go their separate ways. Keep Lonnie safe in her travels, and may Jacob grow up to be healthy and strong. Heal Gideon’s hurt as he takes the hand of his new wife, his other.” Reverend Gardner stumbled.