Though My Heart Is Torn

by Joanne Bischof

  A sickening rose in her stomach. “Alone.”

  “Yes.”

  “What do you mean?” But her chest collapsed because she already knew.

  “Lonnie.” His voice was dry, eyes filled with a self-loathing. “We weren’t playing checkers.”

  Her head grew light. “And then what?” The words were pitifully small.

  “She got scared.”

  Lonnie nearly scoffed.

  “She came to me, saying it had all been a mistake. Which of course it was.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “She didn’t know what to do. She felt trapped.” He hesitated.

  “And …”

  “She said she wanted to get married. I told her no.” He tugged at his hair. “She said she’d go to her father. In the end, I had no choice.”

  “You poor, poor thing.” Wind rustled the trees on the edge of the clearing. Her skirt swirled around her legs.

  “Lonnie, I don’t have anything to say that will be enough. I don’t blame you if you hate me. I should never have done this to you.” His fingertips touched her hip. “I don’t wish away a single moment with you. I don’t regret marrying you. I can’t.” He clutched a fistful of his hair, frustration thicker than the moss of his green eyes. “If I should, I’m sorry, but I can’t.” He stepped closer.

  She pressed fists to her eyes, everything inside her conflicting. “How could you do this?” Her voice muffled against her arms. It was the only thing she could say. And she would say it over and over until it made sense.

  “I don’t want to lose you. But it doesn’t matter what I want. I just want to take care of you. I want to make this right for you, Lonnie.”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  “We could leave. We could go where they can’t find us.”

  “What makes you think I would go with you?”

  Gideon lowered himself to his knees. “Lonnie. If it takes the rest of my life for you to trust me again, I’ll spend every day doing just that. I love you and Jacob more than you know.” His lips parted, eyes wide. “You don’t deserve this, not one bit of it. Please, let me make it up to you.”

  “Don’t you understand?” A single tear slipped and fell. She brushed it away, determined not to cry. “It’s not about what I want.” She waved toward the road they had just traveled. “It’s what they want.” Chilled, she pulled her sweater tighter, curling her hands inside the sleeves. “I don’t even know who you are anymore.”

  He moistened his lips and nodded soberly. “That’s fair. Very fair.” A broken heart confessed itself in his eyes. “Please let me show you that I’m the same man I was yesterday. All this … all this is who I used to be.”

  Yet it had come back to haunt him.

  Turning, Lonnie walked away. He made no move to follow. Good. It was better this way. She couldn’t think clearly when he was so near. Lonnie wished she were a child. She wished she could curl up in her aunt Sarah’s lap, open her heavy Bible to a favorite psalm, and let Sarah’s calming voice lull her toward peace. But she wasn’t a child and—Lord forgive her unbelief—she had just lost all hope of peace.

  Lonnie lifted her glass to her lips but tasted nothing as she swallowed. Her ma exchanged glances with her from across the table, and Lonnie lowered her eyes. Her family ate with nothing but the sound of forks on plates breaking the silence. Beside her, Gideon had hardly touched his food. Yet her pa spooned stew into his mouth with gluttonous delight.

  Why, Pa? Lonnie could hardly look at the man. He had done this. He had dragged them home. All she had wanted to do was see her ma. And that had led them both into the smoothly concealed trap.

  Oliver’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “Lonnie, please pass the squash.”

  She lifted the heavy bowl and let him take a scoop before lowering the dish to the table. The silence continued. Lonnie cut a piece of her meat and forced herself to take a bite. An owl hooted. Night had fallen but still no sign of the visitors who were certain to come. Her heart quickened at a noise. She set her fork down and peered out the window but saw only inky blackness.

  “Addie, get your elbows off the table,” their ma said softly.

  Addie did as she was told, and Lonnie flashed her little sister a weak smile. She remembered being that age. If only she could turn back time. If only she could do it all over again. She would never have set foot beside Gideon O’Riley.

  His arm moved against her, the scent of cedar and smoke lifting from his white shirt. His hand rested on the bench beside hers, fingers all but touching. Tears stung the backs of her eyes. She was lying to herself. If she had the chance to do it all over again, she would have married Gideon O’Riley before any other girl got the notion. Stuffing her hands in her lap, she stared at her plate and contemplated picking up her fork. She could not turn back time. She didn’t know how to unlove him.

  A knock sounded at the door. Every hand stilled and every eye stared at the closed entry.

  Slowly, Joel scooted back his chair. “Don’t everyone jump up at once.” He tossed his napkin next to his plate and stood.

  The curtains danced in the cold air when he pushed the door open. The candle in the center of the table trembled. Reverend Gardner and Henry Allan entered. Eli stepped in behind them, his gaze sharp. Yet no shotgun filled his palm.

  “Come in, come in.” Joel hurried to close out the wet night air. “We were just finishin’ up.”

  Cassie strode in last. Her dark hair swept to the side, a scarlet ribbon tying the unruly tendrils. She blew a strand of hair from her face, and eyes the color of an icy creek glanced around the room before landing on Gideon.

  The clergyman shifted his feet, his face colorless. Lonnie pressed her hands together, willing them to stop trembling. After lifting a heavy shawl from her shoulders, Cassie smoothed the lines of her airy white blouse.

  Joel waved an arm toward the already crowded room. “Come have a seat. Children, off with you.”

  Sid and Oliver exchanged glances. They threw down their napkins and pushed back chairs, then headed outdoors. Addie went toward the bedroom, baby Charlotte filling her arms.

  “Try and keep her quiet. I’ll be in in just a moment,” her ma said. “And try not to wake Jacob.”

  Maggie closed the door softly behind them. She moved to the stove and handed Joel a steaming cup. She wiped her hands on her apron. “Can I get anybody anything?”

  Her pa shook his head. “That’ll be fine, Maggie. We’ll just get on with our business. Lonnie. Gideon.” He motioned them forward.

  They sat in a half circle around the fireplace. With Gideon to her left and her pa to her right, all Lonnie had to do was look across to see the Allans and Reverend Gardner staring back at her.

  Reverend Gardner cleared his throat. “I apologize for Reverend Brown’s absence. He had some last-minute business to attend to, and since we, uh, came to a mutual resolution, he”—the clergyman cleared his throat a second time—“felt satisfied if I deliver the news.”

  Lonnie swallowed and blinked back tears.

  “And what conclusion have you come to?” Joel demanded. “Is my daughter’s reputation ruined? Or will you spare us all the embarrassment?”

  Reverend Gardner’s mouth drew into a thin line. “With all due respect, the matter is not about Lonnie. It’s about Gideon—the man with two wives.”

  “So let me rephrase my question.” Her pa leaned forward. “Which wife must Gideon set aside?”

  The stout man cleared his throat. “If only it were that easy.”

  Henry Allan straightened. “It is that easy. Or have you not come to a decision?”

  Reverend Gardner stiffened. “Gentlemen. Would you mind giving us a moment? I’d appreciate the opportunity to speak alone to the three involved.” He turned from one father to the other. “They’re adults, and I feel that’ll be the best way to settle this. Please.” He waved a hand toward the door. “Give us some privacy.”

  Lonnie knew her pa would not be pleased being thrown from his
home, but to her surprise, he slapped a hand on his leg. “Come along, Henry. Eli. It sounds like it’s rainin’, but we’ll be dry enough in the barn. Come and fetch us when you’re done, Lonnie.”

  Numb, she didn’t acknowledge his words.

  The mantel clock ticked away the seconds until the door closed behind them. Lonnie looked at Gideon, then at Cassie. Taking her first deep breath of the evening, she braced herself for what was to come.

  Bending over, the reverend pulled the ledger from beside his chair and plopped it on his lap. Stifling a cough, he opened to the correct page. The black satin ribbon swayed when he dropped it over the edge. It glimmered in the firelight. Lonnie never wanted to see that ribbon again. How she hated that page. She pressed her hands together and squeezed them between her knees. Rubbing her palms back and forth did little to calm her nerves.

  “Well.” Reverend Gardner offered each person a flat smile. “I’ll preface by saying this: the conclusion we’ve come to is a reflection of the church and its beliefs and traditions, coupled with the laws of the state of Virginia. Both Reverend Brown and I have tried to remain neutral in our opinions on the matter, and only uphold the facts and rules set forth by the documents at hand.” He sighed. “That being said, I’m sorry to say”—his eyes darted around the floor as if looking to land on something that did not breathe, that did not feel—“Miss Sawyer, that your marriage to Mr. O’Riley must be annulled.”

  Lonnie’s hands stilled. Her knees no longer trembled. She felt Gideon’s gaze on her. She lifted her chest, trying to draw in air.

  Reverend Gardner’s voice steadied. “We ask that this be done as soon as possible so we may proceed in repairing the union that Mr. O’Riley had decided not to uphold between himself and Miss Allan. Which”—he added, staring at Gideon—“must be upheld.”

  Lonnie blinked up at Gideon. Firelight danced across his face. His gaze met hers, green eyes broken. She found it impossible to look away. Impossible to fold the love she had for him and tuck it away in the drawer of broken promises. Despite all that had been revealed, she didn’t know how to seal her heart closed to him. Instead, the raw pieces were still his and his alone.

  They sat staring at one another for several moments. The reverend cleared his throat.

  Ignoring the clergyman, Lonnie swallowed. She longed to hear the cries of Gideon’s heart, knowing they mirrored her own. She wished they were alone in the room. Only then could she crawl inside his embrace and cry. Instead, she sat motionless, unable to move. Gideon’s gaze narrowed, nearly piercing her with urgency. And Lonnie no longer had to wonder what filled his heart. They could run. They could flee.

  Then she remembered the men in the barn and those who had not come.

  They would follow.

  A warbler called overhead, but Gideon hardly heard its lonesome song. Reverend Gardner had paid them one more visit. It was as unwelcome as the last. The first of October. Three days. That was all they’d given him. That was all the time he had to convince Lonnie that every fiber of his being loved her and her alone. When weighed in moments and hours, it was nothing compared to spending the rest of his life away from Lonnie. From Jacob. Unable to dwell on the realities that crushed his very soul, Gideon lifted his ax high above his head and brought it down with unapologetic force, executing the chunk of white pine into two ragged pieces.

  He winced when his shoulder warned him to stop. But he didn’t care. He imagined the faces of his adversaries as steel struck wood once more and a single piece shattered into two. Physical pain meant nothing. It was nonexistent compared to the ache inside. Using the back of his hand, Gideon wiped sweat from his temple.

  Despite their efforts, he would never love Cassie. Anguish would be the only sensation to penetrate his heart, and grief would be his constant companion. It would stay with him for the rest of his life.

  Gideon tightened his grip on the handle and steadied his gaze on the target. With a grunt, he splintered the last piece of wood. He stumbled back, and unable to hold it any longer, he let the head of his ax sink into the dirt as he surveyed the fruits of his rage. Freshly split wood littered the grass—a hundred graves. Gideon squinted into an unwelcome sun. They asked too much of him.

  He would sign no annulment papers.

  The wind shifted, sending a swirl of dried leaves around him. He closed his eyes but felt pieces of grit in his mouth. When the leaves settled on the dewy ground, he spat and wiped his lips in the nook of his shoulder. Looking around once more, he studied the mess he had made.

  He picked up the scattered pine and stacked the pieces as neatly as his frustration allowed. When the last chunk graced the top of the pile, he straightened, struck with the sensation of being watched. Looking over his shoulder, he glanced up at the front porch. Lonnie stood at the top of the steep steps. Her unbound hair fluttered and slapped in the breeze.

  Gideon stilled, unable to look away from her defeated face. He had so much to say to her. So much he needed her to understand. He loved her and her alone. Yes, he had made a mistake in marrying Cassie behind his family’s back, but Lonnie needed to know that in his heart of hearts, he truly believed himself to be free of Cassie when he married Lonnie that autumn day. He had believed himself to be free when he had loved Lonnie. Taken everything she had to give and given all of himself in return.

  Taking a single step forward, Gideon rolled his shoulder, stretching the abused muscle. He had to make her see. Had to stow the passion of his heart inside hers. And she alone would hold the key.

  He leaned the ax against the woodpile.

  Lonnie disappeared inside and returned a moment later carrying her brother’s coat. She flung the faded garment over her shoulders and tucked her hair beneath the raised collar. As she descended the steps, her skirts bounced over her knees, showing stockings that had seen too many winters. Her pace quickened. His heart followed the rhythm of her feet as they moved faster. Hurry, Lonnie. His blood rushed as a river. He prayed she would listen to his plea. Prayed she would flee with him.

  Lonnie caught up to him, her cheeks flushed. Breathless. He covered her hand with his, and they whisked away from the open yard, heading for the creek bed where curious eyes could not find them. Neither one spoke. Gideon’s heart pounded with expectancy; he needed to know what she would say. His untamed spirit told him she would come, allow him to risk it to keep her. The years ahead could be full of joy. Though they would be stolen in the eyes of the law, Gideon only hoped that God would bless their faithfulness to each other.

  Yet when they slowed and Lonnie pulled her hand free, tucking it safely in the coat pocket, Gideon feared he was too late.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked. Her eyes were shadowed as if she hadn’t slept in days.

  He rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.” He shifted his feet, scuffing a loose shoelace through the dirt. “I should have. I absolutely should have. It honestly wasn’t at the front of my mind.” He dropped his face and shoved up his shirtsleeves, the cuffs unbuttoned. “When you and I were married, it all happened so fast. It was unexpected. I thought my past was my past. I thought there would be time for us to sort things out … I haven’t exactly been there for you in this marriage.”

  She wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Each day I wanted to be one step closer to being the man you deserved. That meant learning so many things. I just wanted to do it right. I didn’t know how to dig up the troubles of my past yet.” He shook his head. “I see how wrong I was.”

  She tilted her face to the canopy of trees overhead. He watched her swallow. “I don’t know you as well as I thought.”

  He fought the ache, knowing he deserved every bit of it. “We can mend that. I’ll tell you anything.”

  She scoffed.

  “I mean it, Lonnie. Anything about me. I don’t want to keep a single thing from you.”

  “It’s a little late for that.”

  “Give me this chance. Please.”

&
nbsp; “Fine.” She squared to face him. “Just tell me one thing.”

  He heard her sharp intake of breath.

  “She wasn’t the first, was she?”

  His throat worked. “No.”

  “Was she the last?” Her eyes widened slightly. “Before me.”

  “Yes. Absolutely yes.” His stomach clenched at the fear in her eyes.

  “And after me.” Her voice shook, but she tipped up her chin, her resolve clear.

  “Never. Not ever again. You were it. You still are.” He pressed a hand to his chest where his heart thundered. “I love you with everything I have. The only thing inside here is you and Jacob.”

  She didn’t blink.

  “Do you believe me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “That’s fair.” He stepped toward her, bridging the gap. “I know it hasn’t always been this way. I’d be lying if I said it was. But you’ve become a part of me. You’re pure goodness, Lonnie. I don’t for one moment deserve you.” Hand still pressed to his chest, he drew in a breath, knowing he was fumbling the words. “I still don’t always know what I’m doing, and this God of yours who’s somehow given me a second chance isn’t always easy to figure out. But I want to. I want to so bad.”

  Her chin trembled.

  He took another step closer, fighting with every fiber in his being to keep from holding her. “I can’t stay, Lonnie. Not without you.”

  “You say that like there’s a choice.”

  “There is a choice.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Gideon. You know what they’ll do.” Her words were difficult to hear with the rushing water beside them. “They’ll find us. We won’t be a day’s walk away before my pa sends them after us. The Allans will be on our trail quicker than you think.”