My Hope Is Found: The Cadence of Grace, Book 3 (35 page)

And he heard it. In the still small place of his heart, he heard the most beautiful words in the strongest of voices.

You’re forgiven. It’s forgotten
.

He drew in a deep breath and felt a cleansing wash through him. A cleansing he didn’t deserve, but he felt it all the same. So pure and so right. For the first time in his life, he felt peace. The kind he knew would never come until he’d asked for forgiveness. Really asked. Breathing came easier, and Gideon blinked into the dim light of the barn. The day was soon to dawn.

And he didn’t feel like the same man. He sank onto his bedroll, the scent of fresh straw inviting him to lie down. Even so, he couldn’t sleep.

Gideon stared up at the thick boards of the roof. This peace didn’t win him Lonnie, but he was done fighting. He was done blaming. And he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she would be happy. Because she always had—and always would—follow God’s will. Gideon pressed his eyes closed and felt a surge of comfort that he would no longer bear this burden alone.

No longer bear for her what wasn’t his to bear.

For the first time in his life, he didn’t feel alone. If it took him the rest of his days, he would learn how to hang on to that.

He would let her go. And if it was God’s will … she would come find him.

Strolling into the kitchen, Lonnie set an armful of kindling on top of the woodbox. Addie and Jacob giggled in the parlor, and she peered in just as Addie’s head popped up.

“Where did Elsie go?” Lonnie asked.

“She went upstairs. She said she would be right back.”

“What are you two doing?” Lonnie stepped closer.

“It’s a surprise!” Addie’s cheeks flushed pink, and she thrust something behind her back.

Lonnie arched an eyebrow. “A surprise? For who?”

“Reverend McKee,” Addie whispered.

“Oh.” Lonnie straightened. She studied her sister. “It might be a while until he—”

“No. He’s awake.” Addie rose onto her knees. “Elsie heard him a few minutes ago, and she ran up there.”

“Really?” Lonnie peered up at the ceiling.

Addie’s curls bobbed. “Yep. I heard Elsie talking to him just a moment ago. That’s when I decided to make him a surprise. But you can’t see what it is.”

Lonnie stepped toward the stairs. With one hand on the banister, she listened. Elsie’s soft murmurs floated down. Then Toby’s voice, so faint Lonnie scarcely heard it. She pressed a hand to her heart. The back door closed, and boots stomped through the kitchen. Lonnie turned. Gideon rounded the corner. He seemed to take a moment to read her expression, and Lonnie wondered what he saw there.

“What’s the matter?” He stepped closer.

“Toby.”

Gideon’s eyes lifted. He seemed to hold his breath for several moments. He moved closer and rested a hand on the railing. He spoke without looking at her. “So the old boy woke up, huh?” He smiled. “Well, that’s good news.” One side of his mouth genuinely quirked up. He studied her a moment. “Everything all right?”

Oh. She was staring.

He chuckled.

Addie giggled from the other side of the room. Slowly, Lonnie nodded, her gaze still pinned to his.

Gideon glanced up the stairs. “How’s he doing? Did he say what happened?”

“I haven’t seen him yet.”

“Oh. Well, when you do, let me know.” He stepped back, knocking into a chair, and he stumbled to the side.

“I will. Gid, wait—”

He looked at her.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded, and to her surprise, his face looked relaxed. “I’m pretty good, actually.” He thrust his hands in his pockets.

She squinted at him, wanting to say more, but the words weren’t coming. “That’s … that’s good. Real good.”

He chuckled. “Why are you looking at me like I’m crazy?”

“I’m just … confused.”

“Confused.”

She nodded, knowing full well she must look a fool. “You … you saved his life. You saved Toby’s life.”

Gideon shook his head. “I just happened to be in the right place at the right time. He would have done the same for me.”

“Thank you, Gideon.”

He blinked slowly. “You’re welcome.” His eyes were fiercely green. “I’m sorry it took me so long.” Glancing away a moment, he rubbed a hand up his arm. “What I did, Lonnie … it wasn’t heroic.” When she started to speak, he held up a hand. “Let me get this out.”

Addie crawled to the sewing basket and pulled it back to the blanket where she and Jacob huddled together.

“I love you,” Gideon finally said. “But I don’t want you to suffer anymore.” His thumb grazed her chin, turning her to face him. “I want you to be happy. If it’s Toby …”

She wanted to turn her cheek into the cradle of his hand.

“If it’s Toby”—he swallowed visibly—“allow yourself to have peace.”

Tears flooded her eyes. He’d done everything he could to return to her, and here he was, uncertain that she would choose him. The words he needed to hear, the words that flooded her heart, bubbled up inside her.

“Promise me that, all right?”

“Gideon.”

The door opened upstairs. He kissed her forehead. Elsie carried a tray down the stairs, and Addie hopped up.

“Can we visit Toby now?” the little girl asked.

“For a few minutes,” Elsie said.

“Come on, Jacob!” Addie said, reaching for his hand.

Lonnie forced her eyes away from Gideon’s. “Wait, Addie. Let me go with you. We need to be quiet.” She looked up at Gideon apologetically.

His smile was knowing, a muted tenderness.

Her heart filled with an emotion she couldn’t name at the sight of his expression. One of humbleness. One of peace.

Lonnie sat in the chair beside Toby and watched as two puppets danced at the edge of the footboard. A sock goose chased a sock chicken, and Toby’s mouth lifted in a strained smile.

She leaned toward his ear. “Is this too much for you?” she whispered.

His fingertips grazed hers on the quilt, and he offered a slight shake of his head. Earlier that afternoon, Lonnie had ushered Addie in for a few brief moments, then they’d left Toby to sleep for several more hours. When he’d woken, he’d taken a few sips of broth at Elsie’s urging and, at the sight of Addie poking her head around the door, had graciously welcomed her in.

Lonnie drew in a slow breath. “She practiced this all morning,” she whispered and felt Toby’s gaze flick to her face.

“She’s … doing a good job.” His voice was strained. Hand still resting beside hers, he moved it back into his lap.

Brown curls popped up from their hiding place, and Addie scowled at them. “You are not supposed to be talking during the performance.”

Lonnie fell silent but had a hard time focusing on the puppet show, and when Toby cleared his throat, she knew she wasn’t the only one.

The goose and the chicken embraced, and Toby let out a wheezy chuckle. Alarmed, Lonnie touched his arm, but after a subtle shake of his
head, she leaned back in her chair. Addie’s puppets jigged through an encore, and Lonnie found herself laughing when they sashayed off into an imaginary sunset.

Lonnie clapped her hands for both of them. Addie rose and, with her puppets dangling at her sides, performed a bow. She scampered to the corner of the room, where she tugged off the duck and goose, setting them on the windowsill before making several costume changes.

Leaning closer to Toby, Lonnie spoke. “I bumped into Gideon downstairs …”

Toby licked his lips. “Was he happy”—his voice rasped and he swallowed—“to learn that I didn’t die?”

Lonnie glanced at him but saw that he was teasing. “He … was.” She fell silent, fingering the lace edge of her apron. “Um, there’s something you should know.”

With a grimace, Toby shifted his head on the pillow, facing her.

“Gid … He, uh …” Her finger traced the floral pattern. Her eyes moved to Toby’s face. “He brought you back.”

“What do you mean?”

His voice was so strained, she feared this was too much for him. “You were bleeding. I think he carried you a ways, but then a wagon … I mean a farmer stopped and …”

“Gideon. Carried me?” The words slipped out airy, weak.

“Toby, he’s the one who found you. He found you. And he brought you back.”

Realization dawned in Toby’s eyes. His head sank deeper into the pillow.

Lonnie turned to her sister. “Addie, will you excuse us for just a moment?”

Addie’s face fell, but she nodded and moved toward the door.

“I’ll call you back in a few minutes, and you can say a good-night for the evening.”

Addie vanished down the hall.

Lonnie turned back to Toby. “Do you remember what happened?”

His chest lifted as he sighed. He stared at the far wall, blinking slowly, and Lonnie wondered what pain passed inside his mind.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No.” He grimaced when he shifted his shoulders. “It’s fine.” Without looking at her, he told her what he remembered, his words slow in coming, patchy. In her mind she saw the faceless men. Heard their voices. And although she saw the bruises and cuts on his face, the gash on the side of his forehead, he mentioned nothing of pain.

She could only wonder what memories he was sparing her.

“I’m so sorry.” She touched the edge of the bed.

“Don’t be.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’ve lived to tell the tale.” He let out a weak chuckle and, with a wince, moved his hand toward his side. His voice was nearly inaudible. “That was good of him.” His eyes shifted to the window, hand still pressed to the bandage that hid beneath his shirt.

Lonnie knew he was speaking of Gideon. “I think it’s what any man would do.”

Toby glanced at her, and she could tell that he disagreed. “Under the circumstances, Lonnie, it’s what few men would do.”

Wax dripped from the ivory candle in the center of the table, puddling around the base of the copper holder. An icy rain pattered against the window, but the fire roaring in the stove kept the kitchen snug.

“Thank you, Elsie.” Gideon held his tin mug steady as she filled it with dark brew. He smeared butter on his biscuit, then tore off a piece and handed it to his son. Candlelight danced on curls the color of gingerbread, and Gideon couldn’t resist tousling the little boy’s hair, the strands silk between his fingers.

Elsie ladled stew into each bowl, then moved her heavy dutch oven back to the stove, where it clanged into place. Lonnie asked for the milk. Gideon grabbed the jug and gently plucked the tin cup from her hand.

“Can he hold this on his own?” he asked as he splashed milk into the small cup.

“Not really. But he will want to anyway.” Her mouth lifted in a half smile.

“Sounds like he’s taking after someone.”

Her eyes sparkled. “I’d say you’re right.”

Gideon gave the cup to Jacob and watched as milk dribbled down
Jacob’s chin and onto his shirt. His lips smacked, and lowering the cup, his smile was covered in cream.

“Well, he did fairly well.” Using his napkin, Gideon wiped his son’s shirt. “Was that good?”

Jacob kicked his feet and held out his empty cup, eyes bright and wide.

Lonnie laughed. Gideon watched her. His hand itched to hold hers. He all but sat on it, forcing himself to look at his plate. Slowly, Gideon shook his head to toss off the dregs of sorrow. He reached for his coffee, knowing one way or another, he’d have to accept what their future held. He straightened in his chair and sipped the bitter brew.

A sticky hand landed on his arm, and Gideon looked over at Jacob. He fingered the boy’s small wrist, and staring at his son,
knew
he had to accept it. He had to.

Leaving just wasn’t an option.

He would witness Jacob growing up. Even if from afar. When his throat constricted, Gideon took another sip, but it didn’t wash away his ache. He stared at his plate. He had to push through this.
God, I don’t even know how to begin. Show me how to do this
.

Candlelight danced across Lonnie’s glass as she took a drink, and he remembered the peace he’d longed for and knew how it felt to finally be filled with it. He wanted more. Needed more. Yet he had one last thing to do. One last burden to shed.

“Has Toby eaten?” Gideon blurted. When he felt every eye turn toward him, he set his napkin on the table.

Elsie’s lips moved as if to speak but no words came. She tilted her head to the side. “He wasn’t hungry. I figured I would check on him after we eat and see if he’s got any appetite.”

Without speaking, Gideon stood and grabbed a biscuit from beneath the cloth. At the stove, he ladled steaming stew into a dish. Without bothering
to grab a tray or napkin, as Elsie would have, he marched into the parlor and up the stairs, the silence in the kitchen a clear indicator that he was being watched.