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

“Supper’s ready.” Lonnie gently urged her sister toward the table. She reached for Jacob, who squealed when she plucked him from Toby’s grasp.

“He always does that,” she said with a laugh in her voice. She lowered Jacob into his hickory highchair. Her gaze met Toby’s for several seconds. He gulped, realizing he should sit. Several pairs of eyes studied him.

“You all right?” Jebediah tucked his napkin into his collar.

“Me?” Toby’s voice sounded strange to his own ears. “Aye. Great.” He took a shaky breath and held it until his body relaxed. “This looks good.”

Clumsily, Toby tugged the chair across from Jebediah, the one he always sat in when he visited. Gideon’s chair.

Really? He had to think about that now? A shake of his head, and Toby sat. When Lonnie settled beside him, he felt the warmth from her shoulder against his. Toby dropped his napkin and nearly knocked a glass over trying to grab it. When he straightened, Jebediah arched an eyebrow. Toby forced a smile.

“Would you like to bless the food?”

Toby tipped his head. “Sure. I mean, aye. I mean, it’d be a pleasure.”

Lonnie laid her hand on the table, palm up. His breathing quickened, and he covered her hand with his. Her small, soft fingers felt right there. His mind went blank. Clearing his throat, he searched for words. Nothing came other than the verse he’d mulled over that morning. “Dinna worry about anything, but in every thing by prayer and supplication and thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. Amen.” His voice was pitifully weak.

He saw Elsie stifle a smile before moving the basket of biscuits in his direction. “Thank you, Toby. That was … lovely.”

He sat in silent torture, doing his best to engage in conversation. He ate without tasting until the beeswax candles melted into ivory stubs. Jebediah ran a napkin across his gray mustache and tossed it on the table.

The older man leaned back and patted his stomach. “Best food I’ve ever had.”

“Thank you.” Elsie lifted the pan of stew to spoon the last of it onto Toby’s plate.

Toby held up a hand. “That’s plenty, thanks.”

Jebediah scooted his chair back. “I should see to the chores before it gets any darker.”

Toby stood, and when he knocked the table with his leg, it screeched against the floor. Cups rattled against plates. “I’ll help you,” he blurted.

Elsie held the pan over his plate, eyes wide and round.

Before he could think, Toby grabbed his coat and hoped he did not look as foolish as he felt as he burst past the kitchen door. He welcomed the cold air as he walked in stride with Jebediah to the barn. A wind traced against the skin of his neck and wrapped itself around his thick wrists. He pictured his hat hanging on the peg in the kitchen. His calfskin gloves on his bed at home, where he’d forgotten them.

“You all right?” Jebediah asked.

“Me?”

Jebediah chuckled.

After a slow breath, Toby stepped forward to tug the heavy barn door open. Inside was warm and dim. “I’m fine.” The door creaked shut.

Without saying a word, Jebediah dumped hay into Sugar’s feed trough. After filling a sack with oats, Toby secured it to the mule’s nose.

“Actually,” Toby began, trying to focus on the hungry animals, “I wanted to speak with you.”

When the barn door rattled in the wind, their heads turned in unison. The metal hinges creaked and complained.

This was it. Rubbing numb fingertips against his palms, Toby tried to remember the words he had practiced over and over. “I wanted to ask you …”

Jebediah nodded slowly, patiently.

“What I’m trying to say is … I’ve been meaning to ask you …” With a sigh, Toby closed his eyes. “I’d like your permission to ask for Lonnie’s hand in marriage.” A single breath, then he looked at Jebediah.

Jebediah’s eyes tightened for the briefest of moments.

Toby’s heart thundered in his chest.

After a few moments’ hesitation, Jebediah spoke. “Do you have any idea what that girl means to me and Elsie?”

With a slow nod, Toby answered, “Aye.” He stepped forward, dry
straw crinkling beneath his boots, and ran his hand across the back of his neck. “She means that much to me too, sir.”

Jebediah’s expression softened ever so slightly.

After setting the bucket down, Toby squared his shoulders. “I love her. More than anything.” He hoped they’d be more than words to Jebediah. That the older man might have seen as much. “I’ll take care of her, sir.”

“I’m sure you will.” Jebediah swept weathered knuckles across his forehead and over the bristles of his cheek. “You know I’m protective of her.”

“As you should be.”

Jebediah tugged on his beard. “I never thought this day would come.” He folded his arms. “But here it is—and rightly so. Lonnie deserves to be happy.” He squinted at Toby. “How much has she told you about Gideon?”

The name nearly clamped Toby’s throat closed. “Not much.”

After a slow sigh, Jebediah glanced toward the nearest window. “I found them, two autumns ago. The both of ’em. Wandering in the woods alone and lost. They had no home. No hope. And poor Lonnie …” Jebediah shook his head, memories deepening the creases of his forehead.

Toby nodded, but it killed him to think of Lonnie in that life. “And you brought them here.”

“Gideon had a lot of growing up to do. Growing up that he was meant to do before he had a wife and child.” Jebediah tugged his beard again, gray eyes distant. “Lonnie was much too good for the likes of him. But God had a plan for both of their lives. In the end, that boy broke his back every day trying to deserve her.”

Toby struggled to make that image form. Yet he trusted Jebediah’s judgment. He squared his shoulders again, feeling strangely unsettled. “Lonnie told me he’s gone an’ he’s not coming back. If that’s what worries you—”

“I’m not worried.” Jebediah shook his head. “He’s not coming back.”

It was impossible to mistake the sorrow in Jebediah’s voice.

“What I’m trying to say is that she’s seen more heartache in her short life than I ever have.”

Toby nodded.

“I don’t want any more pain for her.”

“No sir. I’ll do everything I can—”

Jebediah held up a hand. “I know you will.” His expression changed. A half smile tugged at the side of his mouth. “I won’t keep you waitin’ any longer, son. My answer is yes.”

Toby’s head lightened. “Yes?”

“You have my permission.” The gray-haired man extended a hand. “Ask away. Her hand is for the taking by whomever she wants. And truth be told, I can’t think of a better man I’d like to see her choose.”

Dazed, Toby gripped Jebediah’s hand and shook it.

Sleet pelted him like icy shot, and Gideon half expected to hear the echo of a shotgun as he tugged his floppy hat lower until it covered his frozen ears. At first the oilcloth coat kept him dry, but the slushy snow melted against his neck, trickling across his collarbone. Soaking him from the inside out. He stepped over a fallen log, the rotting wood blackened and covered in a layer of ice.

Still, he couldn’t stop smiling. He was headed home. A few more days would lead him to the Bennetts’ door. His feet slowed as he took that in. He would arrive unannounced. Unexpected. With nothing but his word. Nothing to his name. Pockets nearly empty, he suddenly wished he had more.

For he had nothing to offer Lonnie and Jacob, save himself.

Though she asked for so little, the yearning to be their provider—their protector—made him wish he had more than a few coins to his name. But there was little he could do about it now. He focused instead on the fact that in just a few days’ time, he would hold Lonnie in his arms. He would pick Jacob up and never let him go. Even as Gideon’s soggy boots squished through the slush, his pace quickened. Ignoring the drenched handkerchief in his back pocket, he smeared a hand over his eyes and down his unshaven jaw.

After another hour, the sleet slowed, then lightened as the storm moved past. Spears of sunlight struck the ground, sending up a sleepy fog wherever they touched.

Gideon tilted his face to the sky and closed his eyes. He’d been walking for two days now and had scarcely stopped to rest. Normally he would have made camp each night. But not this time. Never had he been in such a hurry. Never so eager to be home.

Still, the life that he’d lived the last few months trailed him like smoke.

A familiar pain pierced his chest, and Gideon rubbed his palm against the wet oilcloth as if that could soothe it away. He crouched against a tree and, with his pack in front of him, fumbled around until he found a piece of venison jerky. Sitting back on his heels, he took a bite of the dry meat. A blue jay darted down from the canopy of bare limbs, its wings fluttering against the wet air. Gideon watched it soar. He knew the feeling. The bird landed on a nest with a shiver of feathers.

Gideon wondered if he would be welcomed. They weren’t expecting him. That much he knew. Why would they? All they knew was that he was married to another. He glanced over his shoulder and noted his footprints marking the way he had come.

How long ago it seemed that he and Lonnie had returned to Rocky Knob. Never did he anticipate that what should have been a short visit
would forever change their lives. Remembering the moments that pulled Lonnie and Jacob away from him, Gideon hung his head. God had blessed him with a greater life than he deserved. But like the darkness that chases the day, the fruits of his reckless abandon had come looking for him. And he had lost everything. He had lost Lonnie. And now?

Gideon straightened. He pushed away from the tree, flung the pack onto his shoulder, and set off toward the only destination he could fathom. His family. Now that the sun had won its duel with the clouds, he took off his hat and let the rays warm him. Suddenly, it was as if the last four months had never happened. No one had pulled Lonnie from his grasp, forcing him to leave his family behind. Despite the muddy slush that clung to his worn-out boots, making each step a challenge, Gideon felt lighter as he pressed on. Nothing and no one stood in his way. Lonnie was only miles away. And he was a free man.

As Lonnie strode from the kitchen, she tied her ticking-stripe apron into place, the fabric beneath as worn as her heart had felt that morning. She didn’t know why, but a surprise wave of melancholy had hit her. Perhaps it was the weariness of a long winter. Perhaps it was the way Toby seemed distant the last few days. She tried to think of something she might have done or said, but nothing came to mind. Bucket in hand, she walked toward the far corner of the two-story house. Aside from Jebediah and Elsie, he was her one and only friend. She hated the thought of losing that. Of losing him.

The morning was crisp and damp, not the kind of day to be out in. But Lonnie couldn’t sit still a moment longer. She picked her way through the slush to the edge of the house, where her leaching barrel sat a good foot off the ground on an old crate. Her thumb fiddled with her empty ring finger. A habit. Nothing more. Or so she told herself each time she thought of Gideon’s ring lying in the box in her room upstairs. A wave of sadness threatened to slow her feet, but Lonnie forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

Crouching beside the barrel, she watched water trickle down the homemade trough and into her bucket. She sighed heavily, a thousand impossible hopes floating away on the breeze.

She’d woken to a slushy snow, and just as she had expected, the bucket was nearly full of hickory ash lye—the best, as her aunt had taught her. With nothing to do other than watch the dark liquid drain, Lonnie once again grazed her thumb where Gideon’s ring had once rested. Then, just as quickly, forced her fingers to busy themselves with something. Anything. It was a habit she needed to break. For her hand had been bare for months now. Gideon’s ring long since tucked out of sight. He had a new wife now. Lonnie rose.

Perhaps even a child on the way.

A flush slapped her cheeks, and she stumbled as she reached for her bucket.
Lord, give me the strength to get through this
. Lonnie grabbed the bucket and lugged it toward the kitchen. She tipped her chin up when it trembled and forced several slow breaths before opening the kitchen door.

“Whatcha got there?” Elsie asked when she walked in. The older woman sat at the table with Addie at her side. The little girl held a needle and thread while Elsie showed her how to work a seam. The room was warm with the scent of cinnamon and spice.

Lonnie set the bucket near the stove. “Lye.” She moved to get Elsie’s largest pot, glad her voice slipped out stronger than she felt.

“Did you not finish a batch of soap a few weeks ago?”

Allowing herself a moment before answering, Lonnie carried the pot to the stove, her braid swinging against her back. “These will be to sell in town.”

“Ow!” Addie jumped and held her finger up to her face. Her eyes crossed as she studied it. “That hurt.”

Elsie kissed the little girl’s fingertips, then rose. She moved to the oven and gave Lonnie’s arm a reassuring squeeze. “I don’t want you to feel alone in all this. Jebediah and I are here for you.” Elsie reached for her hot pad.