My Hope Is Found: The Cadence of Grace, Book 3 (19 page)

“There was no point.” Then her voice turned thoughtful. “There were some things I kept.”

“My coat.” He let a confident smile surface.

“Don’t be smug.” She turned her attention back to her sewing. Her stitch went wide, and she tried to yank it loose but the thread knotted in several loops. With a click of her tongue, she freed her needle and tried to save the thread.

“Am I making you nervous?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Her foot bounced, voiding her words. The scissors spliced, and she discarded the gnarled bit. Snatching up the spool of white thread, she unwound a long piece and used her teeth to break it off.

Gideon had to stifle another smile. He crossed his boots, one over the other, and slid them forward. When his feet bumped hers, he pulled back and straightened. “So, what have you been up to? I mean,
aside
from finding a new husband.”

She plunked her sewing onto the table. “You can be really difficult.”

He tipped his chin, his heartbeat rising. “How long did you wait?”

“What?”

He spoke again, this time emphasizing each individual word. “How long did you wait?”

“You mean … meeting Toby?”

He nodded.

“I don’t know if that’s your business.” Color rose into her cheeks.

“You said we could talk.”

She closed her eyes as if to gain control of her irritation. Gideon shifted in his seat. When she finally looked at him, her gaze was sharp, and he knew he was walking a thin line.

“The Bennetts invited him for supper. He was a friend to them. It was … oh, I don’t know … a handful of weeks after I came back. A little longer, perhaps.” She shook her head as if she didn’t want to think back to those days.

“That’s it? A few weeks?” He regretted the words the moment they slipped out.

Her mouth twisted to the side. With slow movements, she pressed her needle into the fabric and stood. “And how long did you wait?” Her voice held a thousand hurts. “How many weeks … or was it just
days
that you
waited after Cassie before you kissed me that night outside my house? I could scarcely stop you.”

He swallowed. “Lonnie, I’m so sorry.”

She pushed away from the table, her sewing forgotten in a heap on the chair. He heard her say good night to Jebediah and Elsie before her footsteps sounded on the stairs.

Gideon watched as Jebediah walked the length of the field, counting his paces as he did. The man’s husky voice grew distant as his figure faded away, becoming smaller with each step, until the trees cast him in early-morning shadows. As he returned, Gideon shifted his weight, anxious to know if his plan would work.

“I’d say it’s a quarter acre of
usable
land. The rest would have to be cleared.” Jebediah stroked his beard.

Gideon pointed over the older man’s shoulder. “That portion there could be cleared easy enough. Half the trees are dead, and the wood that’s still green is small enough to manage. With a little work, I could add another quarter acre.”

“I take it you’ll be needing help. A lot of work for one person.” His eyes sparkled as he studied his unused land.

“You up for it, Jeb?”

“It would be a lot of work.” But he grinned.

Using his elbow, Gideon nudged him. “You know you’re gonna help me. It’s for the good of the farm.”

“Good of the farm, huh?” His smile widened.

“I need to get the bare roots in the ground while they’re still dormant. Less than a month.”

When Jebediah nodded, his aged face, lit by the rising sun, was somber. “Have you talked it over with Lonnie?”

“Should I?” Gideon hitched his thumb in his belt. “She’s not my wife. Doesn’t seem interested in the notion of
becoming
my wife, even if that were possible, so I didn’t really see the point.” When Jebediah let out a low chuckle, Gideon felt his irritation heighten. “It’s not funny.”

“It’s very funny. She’s bein’ stubborn. So are you. And you’re in a heap of trouble. And poor Reverend McKee—”

“Needs to keep to himself.” Gideon folded his arms. “I’ll talk to Lonnie about it.”

“I’d say that’s wise.”

“It still won’t make her think any different of me,” Gideon said softly. “I don’t think anything I do will.”

“I’d say so far you’ve consistently annoyed the socks off her.”

Gideon struck Jebediah’s arm with the side of his fist. “Thanks.”

“Just bein’ truthful.”

“I know. That’s why it hurts. You mean everything you say, you old goat. And it usually has to do with pointing out how much I screw up in life.”

The lines around Jebediah’s eyes deepened. He turned and Gideon followed. They walked in silence for several steps before Jebediah spoke up. “You screw up less than you think.”

Gideon glanced at him. “That’s not true and you know it.”

“I’m being honest. Look back to where you started, Gid.” He squeezed Gideon’s shoulder. “The first day we met.”

Gideon blinked, knowing Jebediah was right. But still, he did not feel the relief it should have given him. He was changed in many ways, yes, but in some, he was still the same man. The man with the short fuse and sharp tongue. Those traits—though he despised them—were laced through
him. He did not know if he would ever be rid of them. Gideon held on to his thoughts as they crossed the yard. Just as the sun burst over the treetops, warming his back, they reached the house and ducked into the kitchen.

Lonnie did not look at him while she stirred the porridge. And she did not look at him when she placed a steaming bowl near his hand. Sitting at the table beside Jebediah, Gideon nodded his thanks and knew better than to try to talk to her. Not here. But he would as soon as he got the chance.

When Jebediah handed him the small pitcher of cream, Gideon drizzled it over his breakfast. Without bothering to stir, he dipped his spoon into the thick oats. Soft, small voices filtering from upstairs told him the children were just waking up. Lonnie disappeared, and by the time Gideon had nearly finished his food, she lowered Jacob into his seat. Addie climbed onto a chair much too big for her and yawned.

With Jacob’s hair standing on end and his small eyes squinty, Gideon could not help but rustle his son’s curls.

“Would you like to feed him?” Lonnie scooped porridge into a small, chipped bowl.

“I’d love to. You think he’d let me?”

“Worth a try.” She set the bowl on the table and dipped a teaspoon into the mush. Taking a small amount, Gideon pulled Jacob’s highchair around to his side, then lifted the porridge to Jacob’s lips, and he took it. Cream dribbled down the boy’s chin, and snatching his napkin from his lap, Gideon carefully wiped it away. “He likes it.”

Lonnie slid in beside him. “He loves to eat. Like someone else I know.” She stirred honey into her oats.

“I can’t believe he’s letting me feed him.”

“Quickest way to the boy’s heart.” Elsie placed a cup of coffee in front of Jebediah. “He’s getting used to you again. He’s beginning to trust you.” She placed a second cup in front of him.

“You think so?” Gideon offered Jacob another bite, which the boy gobbled down. His small feet kicked beneath his tray. When he showed Gideon his tongue, Gideon lifted another spoonful of oats that slid off, hitting the wooden tray with a
plop
. He scraped it up with the spoon, and Elsie, passing by with a rag, wiped it away. “Sorry, Elsie. I’ve never fed a baby before.”

Lonnie looked at him. “Not even your younger brothers and sisters?”

Gideon shrugged. “I wasn’t exactly the most useful person.” He glanced at her in time to see her expression grow soft, knowing.

“Well, you’re doin’ a good job.” She offered him a warm smile.

“Thanks.” He wanted to say more but knew he’d better think through any words that came out of his mouth from now on. He’d be a fool to keep hurting her. By the time Lonnie had finished her breakfast and dropped her bowl in the washtub, Gideon was scraping the remainder of Jacob’s oats into one final bite.

With the rag, Elsie stepped forward and reached for Jacob’s fist.

“I’ll do that.” Gideon took the damp cloth and wiped the boy’s sticky fingers. Jacob was soft in his hands when Gideon lifted him out of his highchair. Gideon took his son and carried the boy into the parlor, overjoyed when he did not protest. Sinking to his knees, Gideon placed Jacob on the floor in front of him.

“His toys are in the basket.” Lonnie stood in the entryway and pointed beneath the desk.

Before Gideon could pull the basket out, Jacob crawled toward it. He plucked both baby and basket from beneath the desk and moved the whole operation to the center of the rug. Silently, Addie slid in beside him. Gideon looked down on the head of dark curls. She glanced up with large eyes and studied him for a moment before ducking her head sheepishly and pulling out a pair of blocks.

“These are his favorite.” She set them in Jacob’s reach.

Jacob lunged toward a block and, using two small hands, lifted a corner to his mouth. Drool followed.

“He chews on everything,” Addie said with a grin.

“Does he?” Gideon was secretly grateful for Addie’s knowledge. The only child he ever paid attention to in his life was Jacob, and in the months he was gone, the boy had blossomed from infancy. He knew which end was up, but not much beyond that. Gideon nudged Addie with his elbow and spoke quietly. “What do you think of this kid here?”

Addie flashed him a toothy grin. “He’s a lot of fun. We play all the time.” She rose to her knees and bounced up and down. “His favorite game is peekaboo.”

“Is that so?”

She demonstrated how the game worked, and when Jacob started laughing, Gideon joined in by placing a nearby throw over his head. Every time he yanked it off, flashing Addie and Jacob a cockeyed grin, the children burst into laughter. He threw the blanket over his head and growled. When the children giggled, he pulled it free, his eyes crossed, a goofy smirk on his face.

Suddenly standing in front of him, Lonnie folded her arms over her chest, amusement bright in her expression.

“Oh.” Gideon dropped the blanket and smoothed his hair. “Hi there.”

“Hello.” She bent to lift Jacob, who had been busy playing for nearly an hour. “I ought to get him dressed.” She smiled at him.

Gideon watched her go, her skirts swaying in rhythm to the soft song she whispered in the boy’s ear. Jacob laid his head on her shoulder, his eyes meeting Gideon’s. The smile on his perfect face was unmistakable.

Gideon had disappeared while she was changing Jacob. After finding her boots, Lonnie slipped them on in the kitchen. Once outside, she heard Gideon before she found him. She made her way to the barn, where he was clattering about. On the workbench lay countless little branches. Gideon was in the corner, trying to separate two old buckets. With a grunt, he finally pried them loose.

“What’s all this?”

Holding the bucket to his chest, he stepped in beside her. “A bit of the future.”

“Is that so?” Gently, she touched a thin stick. Then she noticed the gnarled, dried roots. “What kind of trees are these?”

“Apple.”

“Your orchard.”

“My orchard.”

But she sensed that wasn’t the way he wanted it. Folding her hands behind her skirt, she leaned back against the work surface, the weathered wood rough against her hands. She watched him work in silence for several moments. Finally she spoke. “Gideon, what’s going to happen?”

“What do you mean?”

“With the courthouse. With Cassie.”

“Does this mean you like me?”

“You can be so impossible sometimes.” She tried to focus on a stray thread in her blouse. “I’ve been meaning to ask you …”

Pressing a palm against the work surface, he leaned casually on that arm. “Ask me anything.”

“It’s about Cassie.”

Briefly, he closed his eyes. “I promise you I will tell you the truth.”

Lonnie moistened her lips. “What happened? You were married to her for months. Yet you never touched her. I believe you … but I just don’t understand. If I’m not mistaking, you did care for her once. Very much.”

An emotion passed in his eyes. His face sobered and he didn’t glance away. “Um …” Turning fully, he leaned both hands against the workbench and stared at his boots. “I just did whatever I could think of. I slept in the rocking chair most nights.”

“And … and the others?” Her voice sounded small.

Green eyes found hers. “I kept my distance.”

She allowed his words to sink in. “And what did Cassie think of that?”

Hands still pressed to the wood, he lifted one shoulder. “She wasn’t too pleased about it. I won’t lie to you.” His gaze was fierce when he looked at her. “We’ve come too far for that.”

She circled around him, and he leaned back, facing her. “I’m sorry to put this on you,” she told him, “but these are questions that are going to need answers at some point. I don’t know that I can keep going with these uncertainties.”

“And you shouldn’t have to.” Gideon picked up a pencil and turned it idly. “Let’s see, um, Cassie … I spent most of those months trying not to get too close.”

“Trying.”

“Did … did I say that?”

“You did.” She watched his hands. Hands she knew so well. “Does that mean you didn’t always … succeed?”