Though My Heart Is Torn: The Cadence of Grace, Book 2 (18 page)

The minutes passed while Cassie fiddled with the sleeves that were too long.

Gideon turned his attention to the road behind them. The Sawyers’ farm had long since disappeared from view, and judging from his surroundings, it would not be long before they pulled onto the Allan farm. He knew the place well. He had spent countless afternoons fishing and swimming with Cassie’s brothers.

How long ago that seemed now. Cassie had first caught his eye when she started acting shy around him. No longer Eli’s kid sister, she
had a braid that fell past her hips, and her laugh was that of a woman. She’d avoided Gideon’s gaze and blushed when he tried to speak to her. And that left him mesmerized.

Gideon glanced at Cassie from the corner of his eye. He let out a slow breath.

Mary clutched her bonnet when the wagon bumped. Beside her, Henry sat with his back hunched. His spine poked through his thin shirt. His hat, faded by the sun, was pulled low. Gideon turned his attention back to the road behind them. Cassie’s pa had yet to speak to him. When a wheel struck a rock, both Gideon and Cassie bounced and clutched the splintered sides of the wagon to keep from bumping into each other. Henry flicked the reins, and the horses leaned into their load.

After another mile of silence, Gideon spoke. He was careful to keep his voice low. “I guess we’ll be stayin’ with your pa?” He kept his eyes on the road but caught Cassie shaking her head.

“The old cabin on the north side of Pa’s farm. Like I just told you.”

That’s right. He hadn’t really been listening.

Cassie rested her elbow on the wagon box and pressed her cheek to her forearm. Her eyes fell closed. Gideon peered at her. Her skin was pale. More so than Lonnie’s and not a single freckle appeared.

He quickly looked away when she opened her eyes. As if she’d expected him to watch her. He’d have to be on his best guard with Cassie. She knew exactly what she was doing. She could seem very sweet when she wanted to.

“It’s a little run down, but Ma and I fixed it up a bit inside.”

“What?”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Never mind.”

He shrugged and glanced away. He surveyed the landscape and
knew one thing—no matter where they stayed, it would not be home. When the farm came into view, he scanned it for signs of Cassie’s brothers. They were nowhere in sight. Gideon exhaled. The horses paused in front of the main house, but before they could lower their weary heads, Henry slapped the reins, and the wagon jolted forward.

Gideon strained to see what was ahead. His heart dipped into his stomach at the sight of the cabin. He’d been there many a time. How he wished he could forget. Gideon scanned the weathered boards of the old building. Those memories were buried deep within him, and he had no desire to revisit them.

The old cabin was small. Smaller than Gideon remembered. “Hmm,” he grunted as he surveyed the sorry house. It would be a long winter cooped up in such a place with no one but Cassie. And he was trying not to think about Lonnie at this moment. Trying and failing. Emotions bottlenecked in his throat, and he swallowed hard.

The wagon came to a stop in front of the porch where a basset hound lifted her head. Gideon did not know what sagged worse, the dog’s long ears or the porch floor. He climbed out of the wagon and, after a moment’s hesitation, reluctantly lifted his hand to help Cassie down. He released her as quickly as he could.

While Cassie wished her ma and pa farewell, he climbed the rickety steps and paused long enough to scratch the dog on her wrinkled head. As his fingers grazed her velvet fur, he looked into large brown eyes and searched his memory for her name. Her droopy eyelids lifted, and she cast him a pitiful stare.
Hattie
. That was it.

“Good girl,” he murmured when she rolled away to start another nap.

The boards creaked behind him, and Gideon turned. Cassie stood
on the bottom step, hands clasped. Her shiny boots just touched beneath her hem. Gideon forced a wave when Henry lifted a stiff hand in parting. The wagon jolted and headed back the way it had come. Gideon passed his gaze over Cassie before turning to open the door. As she hovered behind him, he suddenly realized that they were alone. Completely alone.

He tested the doorknob and, when he found it unlocked, nudged the door open and made his way over the threshold. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Cassie strode in and hesitated before moving to the window, where she pulled back blue-checked curtains. The patched fabric hung crooked.

As if reading his mind, Cassie tried to tug them straight. “This is it.” She waved her hand as if to dismiss the place. A piano stood against the far wall, the wood freshly polished. He remembered watching her sit there. They used to play for hours. For a moment he let his gaze wander over her face.

“Are you hungry?” she asked flatly.

“Not really.”

“Good.” She fiddled with her hands as if she needed to busy them with something. She reached for his hat.

“Leave it.” He didn’t need any favors. Especially not from her.

She moved to the bedroom, then halted. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“What am I doing?”

Her eyes sparked. “This.” She waved a hand. “Punishing me.”

He needed air. Gideon unbuttoned the stiff collar of his shirt. “What do you want?” When Cassie shook her head, he lifted his shoulders in a shrug and held out his palms. “I have nothing to give you.”

She turned away and ran a hand over her face.

They stood silent for several moments. Her shoulders rose and fell. Finally, Gideon spoke. “You wanted me gone. You asked me to leave. Do you not remember that?”

Staring at the floor, she said nothing.

“And you assured me we had ended things. Do you remember
that
?”

“It didn’t make it right,” she snapped.

“I’m not saying it was right. But it’s what
was
. It was a lie, Cassie. You lied to me.”

“Well, if you hadn’t have ran off and married—”

“I didn’t
run off
and marry her.” His gaze captured hers. Cassie could have spoken up. She could have told the reverend. She could have done
something
to let them know that she still had his last name. And yet she watched from the shadows as they placed Lonnie’s hand in his. Gideon rubbed the bridge of his nose.

This had been the longest day of his life.

When Cassie faced him, her voice was barely audible. “I know you didn’t want this, but we have to make the best of it.”

“You have no idea what I want,” Gideon said softly. “What I want is my wife and son back. They’re gone, and I don’t know that I’ll ever see them again.” His voice wavered. “I might never see Jacob again. You have no
idea
what it’s like.”

“Yes I do!” She threw her hands up. “I know exactly what it feels like.”

“Don’t try and make me feel sorry for you.”

“I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.” She moved into the bedroom and shut the door.

Alone, Gideon sat at the table. He did not have to follow to know that the door squeaked or that the bed was pressed up against the wall beneath a tiny, four-pane window. He already knew. He’d been there before. He hated everything about this house. About his life.

Thrusting his hand into his pocket, he touched a fold of wool. He pulled it out and held it in his palm. Fingering it lightly, he stared at the tiny knit cap. The late afternoon light danced across the room. Gideon traced the tip of his finger over the soft wool. And thought of his son. The heart that raced with fury inside his chest began to ache.

Cassie picked up a pillow and threw it at the door. She sank onto the bed. Exhausted, she cradled her head in her palms.
Gideon
. The man had more heat under his collar than a steaming kettle.

She didn’t want this.

The room was graying. She stared at the candle on the nightstand. The new wick was pale; it had never been lit. Fresh. Pure. She wondered what that would be like. Cassie hung her head. If only she had been different. If only she had been smarter. Better. Like Lonnie.

But she wasn’t Lonnie, and she never would be. Cassie rubbed her arms, feeling more alone than ever.

What was it her ma had said?
“Give him time.”
No time would be enough for that man. She would never be what he needed. Wanted. Yet here she was. She looked out the window and tried to remember the rest of her ma’s words from just that morning when, once again, Cassie had voiced her reservations.

“The Lord will be your strength.”

Yeah, well, the Lord and her weren’t exactly on speaking terms of
late. Cassie unlaced a boot, the leather shinier than it’d been in a year. She unlaced the other and set them on the floor, then sat cross-legged in the center of the bed, her back straight. She stared at the closed door, and it seemed to stare back. For several minutes, she didn’t move. Then a fresh tear stung her raw cheek, and she smeared it away. Yet she did not ache for herself.

She ached for the man whose muffled sobs swept past the pine boards.

“You haven’t hardly touched your food.” Sarah set down her napkin and raised an eyebrow.

Lonnie stared down at her cold corn cake. She wiped crumbs from her skirt and shrugged. “I guess I’m just not hungry.” She folded the tiny meal into her napkin and tucked it safely in the food basket that sat beside her on the forest floor. She pulled her hand away and let it fall in her lap. Perhaps she would eat it later … perhaps not.

Sarah sat across from Lonnie with her legs folded in. A mound of colorful skirts had been pulled up around her knees, and her plump, pale calves caught the light of the sun. The blanket of dried leaves beneath them served as their humble table. The sky, the color of blue-eyed grass, shimmered through the canopy of autumn-hued trees. Deciding her aunt had the right idea, Lonnie stuck out her legs and hoisted up her skirt until the folds of brown calico draped around her own pale knees. Her winter stockings caught the afternoon sunlight, and she instantly felt its warmth through the black wool.

She drew in a deep sigh and let it out slowly as she savored the woody fragrance around her. There seemed to be a peace about these woods. About this day. Lonnie wrapped her arms across her stomach and hoped some of that peace would seep through her skin. Even as her
eyelids grew heavy, Jacob’s joyous laughter stole her attention. It took little effort to keep him occupied with Addie around. The little girl entertained Jacob by stacking a pile of acorns and letting the little one scatter them with a carefree shriek. While Addie gathered the acorns in her hands, Jacob looked up at his mother and smiled.

“Look at you,” Lonnie said. “You’re quite the little destroyer.”

Jacob lowered his head and searched the ground in front of him for things that crinkled and crackled between his tiny hands. Lonnie smiled. Her son was content, and Sarah still had another corn cake to eat. She knew they would not be leaving anytime soon. Her lower back ached, and her knees were stiff from sitting in such cramped quarters. She was in no hurry to climb aboard the rickety cart.

Lonnie rested her chin on her shoulder. The road, once new and untried, had become well traveled by her and Gideon. The road that led home. Lonnie wanted to put as much distance between them and Rocky Knob as possible. She knew it was useless, but she hoped the farther she got from Gideon, the easier it would be to breathe. Lonnie pressed a hand to her chest. There was just one problem with her plan—he was everywhere inside her. He was in and through her son. She sighed and closed her eyes. Distance would do nothing.

When a chickadee landed nearby, Addie jumped up and chased it. Jacob lifted his little head and watched as his young aunt ran in circles. More than once, Addie slipped on the layer of dried leaves, and though she was quick, she was no match for the spry chickadee.

Sarah’s voice was soft and low when she broke the silence. “A penny for your thoughts.”

Lonnie eyed her aunt and felt her brow unfold.

When Jacob tried to stick a dried leaf in his mouth, Sarah pulled it
from his chubby fingers and threw it to the wind. Turning her attention back to Lonnie, her face gentled. “You all right?”