My Hope Is Found: The Cadence of Grace, Book 3 (10 page)

Gideon stood, brushed the dust from his pants, and prayed this month would pass quickly.

“Be sure to always use a capital letter at the beginning of the sentence.” At the desk in the parlor, Lonnie leaned over her little sister’s work.

“Every time?” Addie asked.

“Every time.” Lonnie gave Addie’s braid a playful tug. “And what goes at the end?”

Using her chalk, Addie scribbled a messy dot after the last word of her sentence.

“Very good.” Lonnie knelt at her side. Jacob would be asleep upstairs for at least an hour, and Lonnie was thankful for the time to work with Addie on her lessons. “Soon, you’ll be able to write a letter to Ma. Now—”

At a knock on the door, Lonnie lifted her head.

With Elsie upstairs dusting, Lonnie rose before Elsie might bother coming down. “Just a moment,” she said to Addie. “I’ll be right back.”

Her stockinged feet made nary a sound as she crossed into the kitchen and peeked through the window. She spotted Toby on the porch, a package in his hands. He wore no hat, and his dark hair was slicked off to one side. He spotted her, and a single dimple appeared.

One hand pressed to the bodice of her blouse and the other on the
knob, she took a quick, steadying breath before opening the door and letting in a burst of cold air. “Hello, Toby.”

“Good afternoon.” He switched the package from one hand to the other. He glanced into the quiet house. “Is this a bad time?”

“No, no. Come on in.” She held the door open wider. “Please. Elsie’s just upstairs and Jebediah’s out in the barn.”

“Thank you.” He stepped in and yanked off his coat before draping it over the chair. His shoulder brushed hers in the tight space. “I need a bit o’ help and was wond’rin’ if you might be able to …” He set the poorly wrapped package on the table and worked on the tangled string. It knotted worse under his oversized fingers. “Och.”

“Here,” Lonnie said with a smile. She gently pushed his hands aside. “Let me see.” She made quick work of the knot and unfolded the paper. “Fabric.”

“Yes.”

“You brought me white fabric.”

“Yes. No. Well, it’s not for you.” He scratched the back of his head. “But now I feel guilty about that.”

Lonnie pulled out the soft folds. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” They shared a laugh. “Let’s start again, shall we?”

“Please.” Toby motioned to what he’d brought. “You see, I ordered a new shirt from Mount Airy, and Mrs. Krause said she was heading into town and that she would pick it up for me.”

“And this is what they sent you.”

“Aye. Four yards of fabric.” He lifted his hands, his dimples deep. “I dinna ken what to do with it.”

Still laughing, Lonnie unfolded it. “So you need a shirt?”

“ ’Twould appear that way.” His eyes sparkled with mischief.

“Well then, you came to the right place.”

“You’ll help me?”

She patted his sturdy forearm. “I’d be happy to.”

“Och. I thank you.”

“First, though, I’ll need to take your measurements.”

“All right.”

“Follow me into the parlor.”

“Now?”

“Unless you’d rather do it another time?”

“No. I mean … I dinna want to interrupt you.”

She waved him forward. “I was just working with Addie on her spelling, and Jacob’s napping. Please, stay.”

Toby ducked his head.

Lonnie gathered up the fabric and carried it into the parlor. “Mr. McKee is here,” she called to Addie.

The little girl smiled a toothy grin at the tall Scotsman.

“But I want you to finish your schoolwork,” Lonnie added.

Nodding quickly, Addie turned to her slate and began scribbling away as if her life depended on it. Toby flashed Lonnie an amused glance.

“Just stand right here in the center of the room.” Crouching, Lonnie pulled Elsie’s sewing basket from beside the sofa. “And it’ll only take a moment. We’ll want everything to fit you just right.” The measuring tape unraveled when she pulled it out, landing in a coil between them. “If you’ll hold your arm out like this.”

She gently touched his wrist, showing him how. “That’s it. Now just a moment.” Pinching the end of the measuring tape, Lonnie pressed it to the top of Toby’s broad shoulder, then slid the tape down the length of his arm, her hands brushing the inside of his wrist. The skin soft and warm. Standing so close to him, she caught the sweet scent of evergreen. Her
heart nearly tripped over itself. Pressing the tape firmly on both ends, she made sure it was taut. “Thirty-seven,” she mumbled.

Toby stared at the empty space between them. Standing so close, the space suddenly seemed nonexistent.

Thirty-seven. Or was it thirty-six?
Fighting a blush, Lonnie quickly measured him again. “I should write that down before I forget it,” she said weakly. She moved to the desk and pulled out a scrap of paper. She found a stubby pencil in the drawer and jotted down the number. “Now I just need to measure your shoulders.”

“Lonnie.”

“Yes.” She stilled long enough to look him in the eye, and it was then she realized she’d been avoiding it the last few minutes.

“I want to apologize for what happened the other day.”

“Oh, Toby, it wasn’t your—”

“Please. Let me say this. I shouldna have invited you there and then vanished, leaving you all alone in an unfamiliar place. ’Twas daft of me.”

“You have no need to apologize.” She lifted her chin. None of it was Toby’s fault. Life just worked that way sometimes. She had to learn to keep going. No matter how much it hurt. She had to make the best of it.

“Look who’s awake,” Elsie called from the hallway. Lonnie turned toward the stairs just as Elsie appeared, a still-waking Jacob in her arms. He rubbed a tiny fist over his eyes. “I think someone wants his mama.”

Lonnie took Jacob, so soft and warm, into her arms and held him close. “Oh, my wee boy. How was your nap?” She kissed his rosy cheek, still sticky with tears. She squeezed him tight.

Dust rag still in hand, Elsie marched back upstairs. Jacob rubbed his face against Lonnie’s shoulder, then seemed to notice Toby for the first time. The baby stuck out his hands and reached for the man, all but lunging out of Lonnie’s grasp.

Loosening her grip, she let Jacob crawl into Toby’s embrace.

Brown eyes wide, Toby looked at the baby and awe unfolded in his expression. He glanced from Jacob to Lonnie then back again. The little boy pressed his cheek to Toby’s chest, and his small back rose and fell in a single sigh.

Something twisted within Lonnie’s chest. “He’s taken with you.” She smoothed her hand down Jacob’s back.

“I—” Toby fell silent. But he held the baby with all the love a father might.

Her throat thick, Lonnie blinked at the tape in her hands. “What was I doing?” she asked softly, more to herself than Toby.

“My measurements.” His voice was gentle.

Glancing into his face, Lonnie saw an expression so earnest she could scarcely look away.

A quick intake of breath, and she smiled up at him. “That’s right.”

It was impossible not to touch him as she ran the measuring tape from one shoulder to the other, measuring the width. He held Jacob still against one side of his chest, making it easy for Lonnie to get the measurement. She jotted the number down quickly, certain she’d never keep anything straight with her heart hammering so. Jacob still hadn’t moved, and from the corner of her eye, Lonnie watched Toby kiss her son’s hair.

Her steps were soft when she walked back to the center of the room. “Almost done.”

Toby held still as Lonnie rose on her tiptoes and laced the measuring tape around his neck. Her fingers grazed the base of his hair. “Just one moment.” She wrapped it around gently and felt him swallow against her hand. A glance up and she realized he was watching her. Quickly, she read the number. “Nineteen.” She sank back down. “Good grief!”

“Is that bad?”

“No,” she nearly squeaked and clamped a hand over her mouth, having not meant to say that aloud. “It’s fine,” she mumbled. She jotted the number down. “What did your mother raise you on?”

Toby laughed and rubbed his thick neck. His cheeks colored. “Is that all?”

“Just one more.” Lonnie held one end of the tape near his collarbone and slid the other down to his hip so quickly Toby scarcely had time to hold still. She wrote down the final number and then turned. Her braid slipped from her shoulder.

“That’s all I need. That and the fabric.” She rolled the measuring tape around her hand. “I could have it to you by next week.” She took Jacob from him.

Toby seemed to search for his hat.

Lonnie pointed toward the kitchen. “In there.”

“You are a dear.” He gazed at the pair of them. “But dinna rush.”

“I won’t … but even so, it’ll be a pleasure to make it for you.” She patted his forearm. “I will do my best to make it Sunday worthy.”

“It will be perfect.”

She could tell he meant every word.

Nodding his thanks, Toby turned to go. Seeing Addie, he knelt down. He whispered a promise to take her for a ride on Gael the next time he came. Eyes bright, Addie nodded eagerly. He tousled her curls, then rose.

Lonnie motioned toward the kitchen. “And may I send you home with some pie? Elsie and I made it just yesterday.”

“That’d be lovely. Thank you.”

Setting Jacob on the chopping-block surface to watch, Lonnie drew out a knife and cut a thick wedge. Then she searched in the cupboard for
a small tin plate. “This should do it.” She slid the pie onto the plate and wrapped it with a bit of cheesecloth. She turned with her offering. “It was my grandmother’s recipe. I’ve been making it ever since I could walk.”

“It looks mighty fine.” His gaze drifted up from the pie. “Thank you. And I can’t thank you enough for helping me with the shirt. You saved me a trip into town.” He hesitated, and she sensed he wanted to say more.

“It’s my pleasure.” Truly it was. “There’ll be enough fabric to make two, I’d imagine. So you’re better off in the end.”

Broad hand pressed to his heart, he smiled down at her. “You are too good to me.” He half grinned. “How can I repay you? And I willna take no for an answer.”

“You’ve already done so much. This”—she tipped her head toward the parlor, where they’d left the fabric—“is a joy.” She lifted Jacob back onto her hip.

They stood a moment without speaking. Toby turned the plate in his hands. “It was good to see you.” He nodded gently, then peered at her with dark eyes. “Shall I come and pick you up on Sunday again? Perhaps the Bennetts will be able to join us this time?”

“That would be lovely.”

“And what about you, Lonnie? You’re always thinking of others. Are you sure it’d be something that you’d enjoy?”

Lonnie glanced at his hands, where her tears had fallen the last time. “I’m sure.” She drew in a deep breath. “One day at a time …”

He touched her cheek. “One day at a time.”

She needed to keep taking those steps—even when they were hard.

His thumb grazed her skin.

She
wanted
to keep taking those steps. Even when she didn’t know where they would lead.

Standing in the woodshed, Gideon kept his hands steady as he wrapped the scion and the stock together. Owen and Tal worked quietly nearby, each man silent, focused. Despite the gray mist that blew past the open door, they were warm enough inside the old shed. The air inside hung heavy with the scent of ripe apples and old leaves, as if the shed had held a hundred harvests in its crates and barrels. Glancing around at the faded and weathered boards, Gideon could only guess that it had. Crates were piled high, some filled with the hardiest of apples, others empty, waiting. In the far corner stood countless bare-root trees just waiting for a home. A piece of earth to take root in.

Gideon shifted on his stool. An hour ago, he’d tossed his jacket on the worktable beside him, but now, with the sun sinking behind the tree line, he reached for it. He tugged his suspenders back up over his shoulders, then slid his jacket on, not bothering to button it. The air seemed to grow colder by the minute, and while he longed to go indoors, he had a handful more trees he wanted to finish. Gideon shifted his feet, stomping them to keep feeling in his legs.

“You boys ’bout ready for supper?” Tal asked, breaking the settled silence.

“Yes sir,” Owen chimed in. He set his tool down with a clatter and turned on his stool.

Wrapping the two grafted pieces with thin twine, Gideon nodded his agreement, deciding to make this his last one. Finished, he clipped the twine and carefully set the fused portion on his workbench in the tidy pile, out of the way. Gideon tugged his knit cap low over his ears.

Using the edge of his hand, he pushed small branch cuttings into his other palm and carried them to the bin to be taken to the compost pile when it was full. He sat back down and straightened his tools, then bundled the twine into a tidy ball off to the side.

“Gideon.”

“Huh?” Gideon glanced up at the sound of Owen’s voice.

“Did you hear what I said?”

“No.”

The young man grinned. “You’ve been here two weeks, and still you’re humming that same song.”

“I wasn’t humming.” Gideon stood. He tossed his cutters on the workbench, then stretched his arms overhead.

“Tell him he was humming.” Owen glanced over his shoulder at his pa.

“You were humming.” Tal cut a length of twine. “Same song. Two weeks.”

Chuckling, Gideon shoved his stool under the workbench. “Great. Now I’m crazy.” He moved toward the open doorway of the shed and leaned against the jamb. “Are you serious?”

Tal glanced up from his work, a smile in his eyes. “Does this look like the face of someone who’s joking?”

Gideon folded his arms.

Owen shoved his tools back haphazardly and turned in his stool. “So why that one?”

“I don’t know.” Gideon scratched his jaw. But he did. It was the song he’d written for Lonnie, starting with the first notes he’d plucked on his mandolin all that time ago. The one he could never seem to get out of his mind. With two ornery mountain men staring at him—humor in their matching eyes—he wasn’t about to confess as much. “Say, can we talk about something else?”