Though My Heart Is Torn: The Cadence of Grace, Book 2 (29 page)

Her shoulders shook once. Twice. Elsie wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close. Lonnie’s cheek pressed against Jacob’s soft back, shattering the last of her resolve. She clutched the package close, wishing with all her might that it was the man himself.

“Whatever am I going to do? I miss him something fierce.” She sniffed, tucked her thumb inside her sleeve, and ran it over her wet eyes. “I don’t know how to make it stop.”

Elsie’s soft hand traced comfort along her back. “Not so much about making it stop”—she gave a gentle squeeze—“but about putting one foot in front of the other.” She ducked her head until Lonnie’s gaze met hers. “I see you taking those strides. I see it in you every day.”

“I’m trying.” Lonnie’s voice was thin. “It doesn’t seem to be enough.

It doesn’t make it easier.”

“Nothing but time will make the hurting stop. And”—Elsie kissed the top of Jacob’s head, lingering—“not so much stop but lessen. The bitter will become smaller, and the sweet will grow.”

Lonnie felt the delicate fabric, wishing with all that was within her that Gideon was standing there this moment. She wanted to thank him. She wanted to hold him. She wanted to hear from his lips that it
had all been a bad dream.
Oh, Gideon
. Impatient, unruly Gideon. Who always ran headfirst into life without weighing the consequences. The green-eyed man who’d spent months and months changing, growing, learning. All to deserve his family. Was he really lost to her? She had stitched her heart inside his chest pocket and didn’t know how to break that thread.

“Elsie, thank you. I’m so glad you found this.” She clutched it to her belly, and her vision blurred. “Thank you, thank you.”

Water sloshed over the edge of the bathtub when Cassie rose. Her teeth chattered as she hurried to dry off. Then she dropped her towel and, using her foot, blotted up the wet mess on the floor. A knock on the door made her heart leap. “Almost done.” She snatched a clean shimmy from the dresser. When she slammed the drawer shut, she nearly caught her finger.

Gideon’s low voice came muffled through the door. “No hurry. I just wanted to tell you that we’re nearly out of wood, and it looks like another storm’s comin’.” He fell silent before continuing. “Might be worse than the one we had last week. I’m gonna go out into the woods and see what I can gather to get us through.”

Cassie flung her dress over her head and jammed the buttons into place. “Wait for me,” she called. Stuffing her feet into a pair of clean stockings, she pulled the gray wool up and over her knees. “I want to come.”

“It’s pretty cold out there,” he said. His voice grew clearer when Cassie opened the door.

He stepped back. “That was quick.”

She tossed a sweater over her shoulders. “I hurried.” Her stockinged feet crossed the floor without a sound.

“It’s gonna be boring work.”

Cassie slipped a foot inside her boot and tugged the frayed laces into place with unladylike force. “All the more reason to have company.” She reached for her other boot.

Doubt betrayed his eyes when she looked up at him.

Perhaps only certain company
. Without waiting for him to respond, she jumped up and snatched her things from the hook behind the door.

Gideon held the door open with the toe of his boot, and she stepped out. Before her spirits could fall, her ma’s words echoed in her ears and were as real as the moment she’d spoken them the morning of the wedding. Cassie knew Gideon would never love her but couldn’t overlook the bead of hope in her mother’s eye.
“What that boy wants and what he needs are two different things.”

Let it be so
.

Gideon seemed focused on the path ahead, but Cassie knew him well enough to understand his thoughts were far from the snowy trail before him.
Oh, Gideon. What happened to you?
What anguish did he suffer? That moment, Cassie wondered if she would
ever
be enough to mend his grief. She had once been the delight of his eye. The name spoken on his lips with affection—with passion.

Her steps fell in sync behind his, and Cassie studied the man before her. What sorrow tormented his heart? She wished she did not understand, but she did. She knew the anguish of being separated. Her pa’s words from long ago echoed fresh in her mind.
“Gideon’s going to marry the Sawyer girl.”
Alone with her own secret, she had run off to the barn and wept for hours.

Her husband had found another. And that life had changed him.

The Gideon she had once known was no more. In his place was a sober, almost pensive man. Gone were his rowdy ways. She hadn’t seen him take so much as a drop of moonshine. He was so different from the man she had once known. In more ways than one.

Gideon slowed, letting Cassie catch up. He couldn’t help but notice that the tight bun at the nape of her neck smelled like rosemary soap—the heady scent inescapable—and he found himself unable to look away.

Dark lashes flicked up, and she studied him, her round cheeks smooth.

Time goes by better with company
. As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t disagree. Gideon watched as she took the lead. She looked so petite beneath the coat draped loosely across her thin frame—so small beneath the sinister spans of swollen clouds overhead.

Cassie spun around and smiled. “I’ve seen hogs walk faster than you.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d been teased about being slow. But that only made his chest ache and his mind race toward his treasured memories. Trying to keep his mind in the moment, he quickened his pace to match hers. “Would
you
like to pull the sled?”

She waited for him to catch up. With nothing else around the snow-covered farm to distract him, Gideon’s full attention fell on her. He looked down at her silken hair, still shiny from her bath. Like he was being awakened slowly from a long dream, everything about her was becoming familiar once again—the round shape of her mouth, the pinch at the tips of her ears, and the way her nose wrinkled impishly
when she smiled at him. Gideon cleared his throat as different memories from the past reminded him how he had adored her once. Intensely. He wished the sweet fragrance of her bath didn’t linger on her skin and was relieved when she wandered off. He rubbed the back of his neck. The muscles there were stiff, complaining. A roll of his shoulders did little to loosen the tension.

It wasn’t easy sleeping in the hard rocking chair every night. Rarely did he give in to the luxury of a soft mattress, a warm blanket. Because he wasn’t as good as any of them gave him credit for. Sure, he was trying to change, but some habits were hard to break. Sleeping beside Cassie Allan was a habit best left untouched.

“Here’s one.” She knelt and plucked a thin branch from the ground. Without ceremony, Gideon followed her, and in no time, frozen sticks of all sizes cluttered the inside of the sled. Cassie struggled with a heavy branch.

“Let me help you.” With a tug, Gideon freed it from the frozen ground and hoisted it into the sled.

Cassie chatted as they worked. Gideon did his best to respond in complete sentences. She was cheerier than he ever remembered, and after a while, he found himself enjoying the morning—the company. Perhaps this could work. Perhaps he could take pleasure in Cassie’s presence as the companion she was becoming. Gideon freed a chunk of wood from the frozen ground and wiped away powdery snow. But would that be enough for her? for him?

It has to be
. He knew of no other way. Gideon tossed the wood into the sled, and it banged against the side. He chewed his lip and cast a wary glance in Cassie’s direction, glad she could not read his thoughts.
The thoughts that hovered around the woman who held every happy desire in the palm of her small hand. Lonnie.

The name seemed to bore a hole through his lungs, making it impossible to breathe. His love. How he longed to touch her. Hear her voice, her laughter. Feel the curve of her silken cheek on the back of his hand. If only she were here with him now. He would bury his face in her hair and inhale the warm scent of cinnamon that always seemed a part of her. She was forever in the kitchen, endlessly covered in flour and sugar … with Jacob at her feet.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“Sorry?”

“I asked if you think that’s enough.” Cassie dropped a pair of heavy sticks into the sled. “Or should we head deeper into the woods?”

Gideon blinked into the sun and forced his mind back to the present. His new wife bent to yank a heavy branch from beneath a tree. She tugged with all her strength, then gave up, tilted her face to the sky, and laughed.

“Maybe we should call it a day before you hurt something.”

She flung a stick in his direction.

“Or someone.”

Cassie laughed, and the fondness in her face when she looked up turned something inside his heart, humbling him.

“Are you sure you wanna go?” Elsie whispered as Lonnie set Jacob on the kitchen floor.

Before pulling her hands away, Lonnie swiped her palm over the baby’s rumpled hair. “I’m certain. Some fresh air’ll do me good.”

Elsie pursed her lips, but her eyes softened.

“I need to get out and stretch my legs.” Lonnie rolled the cuffs of Gideon’s plaid coat past her wrists so she could tuck in her bulky wool gloves. She tugged the thick plaid back in place and clapped her hands together with a muffled sound. “Jeb’s probably waitin’ for me.” Squatting, she pressed a kiss to Jacob’s warm forehead, then rose and squeezed Elsie’s hand in a silent thank-you. “Jebediah said we shouldn’t be gone long.”

Before her son could fuss about her hasty departure, Lonnie slipped from the cozy kitchen. Just as an icy gust of wind took her breath away, the sun peeked through thinning clouds. As expected, Jebediah stepped from the barn and waved.

“Chores are done. Ready to head out?” he called.

Lonnie left the porch and stepped through thick mounds of snow. “I’m ready.”

She fell in step behind him and used his large footprints as her
pathway. Even so, the snow rose to her kneecaps, and the warmth of her legs melted what clung to her wool stockings.

They walked in silence. The December sun made the white landscape glisten, making it hard to believe that only a few days before, the sky had been an angry shade of gray. Lonnie savored the warmth and knew it could fade by tomorrow. She glanced over her shoulder but could no longer see the house behind them. Only the northeastern corner of the fence poked out of the snow. They followed the trail as it wound around a cluster of red oaks.

Jebediah switched his shotgun from one hand to the other and peered behind him. “You all right back there?”

Breathless, Lonnie merely nodded. Jebediah’s footsteps were farther apart than hers, and she struggled to keep up with his steady pace. When he called back to her again, his breath blew white in short puffs.

“First snare’s not far from the farm,” he panted. “Just a little ways more.”

They walked in silence, chests heaving. Lonnie’s calves began to burn, and with a grunt, she lifted her boot out of the snow only to have it sink down again on the next step. Finally, Jebediah paused and raised his arm. Lonnie’s gaze followed the length of his plaid sleeve.