Though My Heart Is Torn

by Joanne Bischof

  “So we’re finished here?” Henry asked.

  The reverend nodded.

  “I need some air,” Gideon murmured. “I’ll wait outside.”

  He grabbed his jacket from the pew, ignoring the tie. Cassie watched him leave. Every footfall stomped harder on her heart than on the floorboards below.

  So this is what she had to look forward to. A husband who did not love her.

  Why would he? She was not Lonnie. She couldn’t begin to guess what was so great about the woman. Lonnie was so … plain. Cassie fiddled with her locket, running it up one side of its chain. She knew a thing or two about getting Gideon’s attention. If Lonnie Sawyer could do it, for heaven’s sake, she could too.

  Though the sun still held its ground, spreading rays of light across the land, tiny droplets of rain began to fall. Lonnie looked up at the thickening clouds and realized the sun fought a battle it could not win.

  “Take this,” Sarah called. She propped the door open with one hand and held a basket out with the other. “Just pulled this bread from the oven.” Suddenly alarmed, she looked around her. “Where’s Jacob?”

  “He fell asleep, so I bundled him in the cart.”

  Sarah nodded and disappeared back into the house. Lonnie took the basket and carried it to her aunt’s cart. The snug box sat on a single axle and could hold only two people on the narrow seat. What space was not taken up with feet and provisions offered a tiny corner for Jacob to sleep in. Sugar’s lead rope was tied to the back. The old mule’s eyes hung at half-mast, as if she were about to fall asleep any moment.

  “That seems to be the last of it.” Sarah sighed and stepped out of the doorway. She secured the latch behind her. Lifting her face to the sky, she shook her head. “Fine weather to be traveling. Won’t you consider staying for a few days at least? A week? A month, even?”

  “No. I need to be free of this place.”

  Another month? Lonnie’s eyebrows pulled together. She couldn’t imagine staying around another moment and was grateful her aunt had been at the ready. Lonnie dropped another blanket in the back of the cart, not caring that it came unfolded.

  Determined not to cry, she put one foot in front of the other and climbed onto the small seat. She slid over as far as she could to make room for her aunt.

  Sarah took the reins in one hand and slipped her other arm through the crook of Lonnie’s elbow. “Cozy, ain’t it?” Her smile faded when Lonnie did not respond, and she gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

  With a click of Sarah’s tongue, Elliot, the old farm horse, was off at a slow trot. When the cart lurched into motion, Lonnie clung to her aunt. Sugar lumbered along, matching the pace.

  “Wait!”

  Lonnie knew that voice. She spun around on the seat to see her ma running toward them. Addie struggled alongside her, moving as fast as her short legs would allow. When the cart stilled, her ma slowed her pace and pressed a hand to her chest.

  “I’m so glad I caught you,” she panted.

  Lonnie jumped down and ran to her ma. When she drew closer, she noticed a fresh red mark, high up on her ma’s cheek. The makings of a bruise. Lonnie gasped. Maggie waved away her concern.

  “I’m all right.” She covered her cheek with her hand. “Just a little argument.” Lonnie stared in disbelief as her ma fell to her knees in front of Addie. “Take your sister,” she pleaded. Lifting her face, her forced smile faded. Her cheek caught the sunlight, and her chin trembled. “I don’t want her to have this fate.”

  Lonnie swallowed. “Of course I’ll take her. But what will you do without her?”

  Maggie shook her head. “Don’t you worry none about me. I just want to know that my girls are safe. I’ve heard nothing but good things about the Bennetts. Please.” She tugged a thin wad of bills from her blouse and stuffed the paper in Lonnie’s hand.

  Lonnie started to protest.

  “I don’t want to take advantage of anyone.”

  “But, Pa’ll know—”

  Ignoring Lonnie’s words, her ma pulled her into a tearful embrace. “Give her a better life.”

  “Oh, Ma, I will pray for you.”

  Maggie sniffed and wiped her eyes. She cast a wary glance over her shoulder, then forced another smile. “Now off with you. You want to get a good start before dark.”

  Lonnie knew what her ma meant. Hurry.

  Within moments, space was made for Addie. She huddled in the back with her knees to her chin. Their ma pressed a kiss to the girl’s head and dropped a gunnysack of Addie’s belongings inside the already bulging cart. Before Lonnie could whisper another good-bye, Maggie darted around the front of the cart and slapped the horse on the rump. The horse jolted forward. Lonnie gripped the seat. She glanced over her shoulder and watched her ma’s figure grow smaller. Maggie waved overhead, and Lonnie lifted a hand in farewell.

  Addie’s tiny voice stole her attention. “Am I gonna see Ma again?”

  Lonnie exchanged glances with her aunt before replying. “Hopefully.” It was the only truth she could think of. “We’re gonna be together now. You, me, and Jacob. How does that sound?”

  Addie nodded happily, then rested her chin on her knees and closed her eyes. Lonnie doubted if her sister understood the weight of her ma’s plea. The little girl would not be returning home. Lonnie thought of her own fate and the time that had passed since she’d finally returned to Rocky Knob.

  When the cart jolted, she turned forward.

  “So this is it,” Sarah said cheerfully.

  The landscape changed as they started downhill, yet Lonnie saw no cheer in any of it. “This is it.”

  Sarah nudged Lonnie in the side. “I’ll look after your ma. She’s gonna be fine.”

  Words could not be found, so Lonnie nodded her head.

  “You’re gonna be all right too.”

  Looking off into the distance, Lonnie shrugged and Sarah fell silent. Her aunt’s words were meant as encouragement, but watching the sky ahead darken, Lonnie wondered if they were true.

  Using his boot, Gideon kicked his thin sack to the other side of the wagon bed. He’d stuffed what little he owned into a gunnysack.

  “Where we goin’?” he asked without looking at Cassie, who sat beside him.

  A sweet smell lifted from the fabric of her dress.

  “The cabin. Ma and I fixed it up.”

  Gideon tugged at the patch of hair beneath his lip.

  Huddled in the back of Henry’s wagon, he was careful not to bump into her as wheels jolted over ruts. The rain had started up again, and Gideon pulled his hat over his ears. Cassie drew her coat collar tighter beneath her chin. An old army coat, from what he’d seen of it. He tried to ignore her movements.

  The minutes passed while Cassie fiddled with the sleeves that were too long.

  Gideon turned his attention to the road behind them. The Sawyers’ farm had long since disappeared from view, and judging from his surroundings, it would not be long before they pulled onto the Allan farm. He knew the place well. He had spent countless afternoons fishing and swimming with Cassie’s brothers.

  How long ago that seemed now. Cassie had first caught his eye when she started acting shy around him. No longer Eli’s kid sister, she had a braid that fell past her hips, and her laugh was that of a woman. She’d avoided Gideon’s gaze and blushed when he tried to speak to her. And that left him mesmerized.

  Gideon glanced at Cassie from the corner of his eye. He let out a slow breath.

  Mary clutched her bonnet when the wagon bumped. Beside her, Henry sat with his back hunched. His spine poked through his thin shirt. His hat, faded by the sun, was pulled low. Gideon turned his attention back to the road behind them. Cassie’s pa had yet to speak to him. When a wheel struck a rock, both Gideon and Cassie bounced and clutched the splintered sides of the wagon to keep from bumping into each other. Henry flicked the reins, and the horses leaned into their load.

  After another mile of silence, Gideon spoke. He was careful to keep his voic
e low. “I guess we’ll be stayin’ with your pa?” He kept his eyes on the road but caught Cassie shaking her head.

  “The old cabin on the north side of Pa’s farm. Like I just told you.”

  That’s right. He hadn’t really been listening.

  Cassie rested her elbow on the wagon box and pressed her cheek to her forearm. Her eyes fell closed. Gideon peered at her. Her skin was pale. More so than Lonnie’s and not a single freckle appeared.

  He quickly looked away when she opened her eyes. As if she’d expected him to watch her. He’d have to be on his best guard with Cassie. She knew exactly what she was doing. She could seem very sweet when she wanted to.

  “It’s a little run down, but Ma and I fixed it up a bit inside.”

  “What?”

  She sighed and rolled her eyes. “Never mind.”

  He shrugged and glanced away. He surveyed the landscape and knew one thing—no matter where they stayed, it would not be home. When the farm came into view, he scanned it for signs of Cassie’s brothers. They were nowhere in sight. Gideon exhaled. The horses paused in front of the main house, but before they could lower their weary heads, Henry slapped the reins, and the wagon jolted forward.

  Gideon strained to see what was ahead. His heart dipped into his stomach at the sight of the cabin. He’d been there many a time. How he wished he could forget. Gideon scanned the weathered boards of the old building. Those memories were buried deep within him, and he had no desire to revisit them.

  The old cabin was small. Smaller than Gideon remembered. “Hmm,” he grunted as he surveyed the sorry house. It would be a long winter cooped up in such a place with no one but Cassie. And he was trying not to think about Lonnie at this moment. Trying and failing. Emotions bottlenecked in his throat, and he swallowed hard.

  The wagon came to a stop in front of the porch where a basset hound lifted her head. Gideon did not know what sagged worse, the dog’s long ears or the porch floor. He climbed out of the wagon and, after a moment’s hesitation, reluctantly lifted his hand to help Cassie down. He released her as quickly as he could.

  While Cassie wished her ma and pa farewell, he climbed the rickety steps and paused long enough to scratch the dog on her wrinkled head. As his fingers grazed her velvet fur, he looked into large brown eyes and searched his memory for her name. Her droopy eyelids lifted, and she cast him a pitiful stare. Hattie. That was it.

  “Good girl,” he murmured when she rolled away to start another nap.

  The boards creaked behind him, and Gideon turned. Cassie stood on the bottom step, hands clasped. Her shiny boots just touched beneath her hem. Gideon forced a wave when Henry lifted a stiff hand in parting. The wagon jolted and headed back the way it had come. Gideon passed his gaze over Cassie before turning to open the door. As she hovered behind him, he suddenly realized that they were alone. Completely alone.

  He tested the doorknob and, when he found it unlocked, nudged the door open and made his way over the threshold. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Cassie strode in and hesitated before moving to the window, where she pulled back blue-checked curtains. The patched fabric hung crooked.

  As if reading his mind, Cassie tried to tug them straight. “This is it.” She waved her hand as if to dismiss the place. A piano stood against the far wall, the wood freshly polished. He remembered watching her sit there. They used to play for hours. For a moment he let his gaze wander over her face.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked flatly.

  “Not really.”

  “Good.” She fiddled with her hands as if she needed to busy them with something. She reached for his hat.

  “Leave it.” He didn’t need any favors. Especially not from her.

  She moved to the bedroom, then halted. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “What am I doing?”

  Her eyes sparked. “This.” She waved a hand. “Punishing me.”

  He needed air. Gideon unbuttoned the stiff collar of his shirt. “What do you want?” When Cassie shook her head, he lifted his shoulders in a shrug and held out his palms. “I have nothing to give you.”

  She turned away and ran a hand over her face.

  They stood silent for several moments. Her shoulders rose and fell. Finally, Gideon spoke. “You wanted me gone. You asked me to leave. Do you not remember that?”

  Staring at the floor, she said nothing.

  “And you assured me we had ended things. Do you remember that?”

  “It didn’t make it right,” she snapped.

  “I’m not saying it was right. But it’s what was. It was a lie, Cassie. You lied to me.”

  “Well, if you hadn’t have ran off and married—”

  “I didn’t run off and marry her.” His gaze captured hers. Cassie could have spoken up. She could have told the reverend. She could have done something to let them know that she still had his last name. And yet she watched from the shadows as they placed Lonnie’s hand in his. Gideon rubbed the bridge of his nose.

  This had been the longest day of his life.

  When Cassie faced him, her voice was barely audible. “I know you didn’t want this, but we have to make the best of it.”

  “You have no idea what I want,” Gideon said softly. “What I want is my wife and son back. They’re gone, and I don’t know that I’ll ever see them again.” His voice wavered. “I might never see Jacob again. You have no idea what it’s like.”

  “Yes I do!” She threw her hands up. “I know exactly what it feels like.”

  “Don’t try and make me feel sorry for you.”

  “I don’t want you to feel sorry for me.” She moved into the bedroom and shut the door.

  Alone, Gideon sat at the table. He did not have to follow to know that the door squeaked or that the bed was pressed up against the wall beneath a tiny, four-pane window. He already knew. He’d been there before. He hated everything about this house. About his life.

  Thrusting his hand into his pocket, he touched a fold of wool. He pulled it out and held it in his palm. Fingering it lightly, he stared at the tiny knit cap. The late afternoon light danced across the room. Gideon traced the tip of his finger over the soft wool. And thought of his son. The heart that raced with fury inside his chest began to ache.

  Cassie picked up a pillow and threw it at the door. She sank onto the bed. Exhausted, she cradled her head in her palms. Gideon. The man had more heat under his collar than a steaming kettle.

  She didn’t want this.

  The room was graying. She stared at the candle on the nightstand. The new wick was pale; it had never been lit. Fresh. Pure. She wondered what that would be like. Cassie hung her head. If only she had been different. If only she had been smarter. Better. Like Lonnie.

  But she wasn’t Lonnie, and she never would be. Cassie rubbed her arms, feeling more alone than ever.

  What was it her ma had said? “Give him time.” No time would be enough for that man. She would never be what he needed. Wanted. Yet here she was. She looked out the window and tried to remember the rest of her ma’s words from just that morning when, once again, Cassie had voiced her reservations.

  “The Lord will be your strength.”

  Yeah, well, the Lord and her weren’t exactly on speaking terms of late. Cassie unlaced a boot, the leather shinier than it’d been in a year. She unlaced the other and set them on the floor, then sat cross-legged in the center of the bed, her back straight. She stared at the closed door, and it seemed to stare back. For several minutes, she didn’t move. Then a fresh tear stung her raw cheek, and she smeared it away. Yet she did not ache for herself.

  She ached for the man whose muffled sobs swept past the pine boards.

  “You haven’t hardly touched your food.” Sarah set down her napkin and raised an eyebrow.

  Lonnie stared down at her cold corn cake. She wiped crumbs from her skirt and shrugged. “I guess I’m just not hungry.” She folded the tiny meal into her napkin and tucked it safely in the foo
d basket that sat beside her on the forest floor. She pulled her hand away and let it fall in her lap. Perhaps she would eat it later … perhaps not.

  Sarah sat across from Lonnie with her legs folded in. A mound of colorful skirts had been pulled up around her knees, and her plump, pale calves caught the light of the sun. The blanket of dried leaves beneath them served as their humble table. The sky, the color of blue-eyed grass, shimmered through the canopy of autumn-hued trees. Deciding her aunt had the right idea, Lonnie stuck out her legs and hoisted up her skirt until the folds of brown calico draped around her own pale knees. Her winter stockings caught the afternoon sunlight, and she instantly felt its warmth through the black wool.

  She drew in a deep sigh and let it out slowly as she savored the woody fragrance around her. There seemed to be a peace about these woods. About this day. Lonnie wrapped her arms across her stomach and hoped some of that peace would seep through her skin. Even as her eyelids grew heavy, Jacob’s joyous laughter stole her attention. It took little effort to keep him occupied with Addie around. The little girl entertained Jacob by stacking a pile of acorns and letting the little one scatter them with a carefree shriek. While Addie gathered the acorns in her hands, Jacob looked up at his mother and smiled.

  “Look at you,” Lonnie said. “You’re quite the little destroyer.”

  Jacob lowered his head and searched the ground in front of him for things that crinkled and crackled between his tiny hands. Lonnie smiled. Her son was content, and Sarah still had another corn cake to eat. She knew they would not be leaving anytime soon. Her lower back ached, and her knees were stiff from sitting in such cramped quarters. She was in no hurry to climb aboard the rickety cart.

  Lonnie rested her chin on her shoulder. The road, once new and untried, had become well traveled by her and Gideon. The road that led home. Lonnie wanted to put as much distance between them and Rocky Knob as possible. She knew it was useless, but she hoped the farther she got from Gideon, the easier it would be to breathe. Lonnie pressed a hand to her chest. There was just one problem with her plan—he was everywhere inside her. He was in and through her son. She sighed and closed her eyes. Distance would do nothing.