Though My Heart Is Torn

by Joanne Bischof

  She would not. Gideon was gone and she would move on. One step at a time. She would be brave. She didn’t know what that looked like, but she made a resolution to find out. She would not cry.

  Lonnie repeated the words over and over, fighting the sting in her eyes.

  “Who’s Jeb out there talkin’ to?” Lonnie squinted out the window and pulled the curtains back farther for Elsie to peek out. Elsie wiped a flour-covered hand across her forehead and studied the man in the yard. “Oh!” She smiled. “That’s the new reverend. Nice young man. He’s the fella who delivered your letter from Rocky Knob. I told him to come around for supper sometime.” She placed her hands on her waist and leaned in closer. Her voice muffled against the glass. “I hope Jebediah remembers to ask him again.”

  Stepping away, Elsie returned to kneading her bread dough.

  Lonnie watched Addie run from one end of the yard to the other. Lonnie’s nose bumped the glass. “I think he did ’cause they’re headed this way.” Her voice fell soft. “Doesn’t look much like a reverend,” she mumbled.

  Dressed in a striped shirt and dark pants, he looked nothing like Reverend Gardner or Reverend Brown. No black hat, no serious expression. He shook Jebediah’s hand. With a slap on the man’s broad back, Jebediah led him toward the house. She dropped the curtain and stepped back.

  Heavy feet pounded up the back steps. Jacob crawled toward her and tugged at her skirt. Spinning around, Lonnie lifted him into her arms just as the door opened and Jebediah stuck his head inside.

  “Ladies,” he said with a smile, “Reverend McKee is here.”

  The door opened wider, and the young man followed Jebediah into the kitchen. He pulled a hat from dark hair.

  “Well, I’m glad you remembered to come visit us!” Elsie waved him forward. “Come in, come in. Don’t be shy.”

  The young reverend tipped his head. “Aye. Thanks.”

  At the sound of his Scottish accent, Lonnie lifted her eyebrows.

  His gaze bounced from Elsie to Lonnie and back again. With Jebediah standing so near, Jacob squirmed, and Lonnie feared he would jump out of her grasp. She quickly returned the reverend’s nod with a smile and set her son down. Finally free of her arms, he lifted himself up on his belly and looked at the tall stranger before trying to scoot toward him. With a loaf of freshly risen bread in her hand, Elsie paused and waited for him to pass by her before opening the hot oven door.

  The reverend smiled. “An’ who’s this wee thing?” His voice was deeper than the murky pond Lonnie swam in as a girl.

  The oven door closed, and Elsie placed a round fist on each hip. She grinned down at the baby. “This is our Jacob.”

  Jebediah politely excused himself to finish his afternoon chores, bidding the reverend to make himself at home.

  The young man ducked down long enough to place a large hand on top of Jacob’s head. “Well, hello there, Jacob.” He stood and turned his hat in his hands.

  Elsie hurried to take it from him. “I’ll take your coat too.”

  The reverend placed it in Elsie’s waiting hands. “No need of this, I s’pose. It’s plenty warm in here.”

  “Reverend McKee comes from Scotland,” Elsie declared with a broad grin.

  Lonnie smiled. “So I noticed.”

  He held up his hand. “But please”—the simple phrase resonated with a rich cadence not liken to the hills of Virginia—“call me by my first name.”

  Elsie spoke. “Tobias? Was it?”

  He grinned even as his cheeks colored. “Just my mother calls me that. Most folk call me Toby. And no more of that rev’rend nonsense. I only just finished my studies and hardly deserve the title.”

  “Toby here preaches at the church to help out Reverend Gardner. Ever since Reverend Finch passed, poor Reverend Gardner has journeyed from Rocky Knob to Fancy Gap every other month.” She pulled a tin of cinnamon from her spice rack and sprinkled it into a bowl of whipped cream. “Now that Toby’s here, he will be able to settle in one spot.”

  “That’s my hope.” He grinned at Elsie, then when his smile fell on Lonnie, it seemed to soften.

  Lonnie tried to join in the conversation. “And in the meantime?”

  “Well,” Toby sighed. “In the meantime, I’ve got a little place up the way. A nice set of folks have lent me a wee shanty on their property. It’s not much. It’s wet in the winter and hot in the summer, but it’s home for now.” He paused, and Lonnie watched his eyes move over the planes of her face. “I s’pose that doesn’t answer your question.” His voice came out weak, distracted. “In the meantime, I’ve been going ’round and visiting with the folks in the area. Making friends and seeing where I can be used. I’ve done everything from fixing fences to helping a few learn to read. My time is the Lord’s, and that’s how I’ll use it.”

  Elsie placed a hand on Toby’s sturdy arm and pointed him toward the table. “Like delivering our letter.”

  He gingerly stepped over Jacob and made his way to the table. “Aye, like that.” After pulling out the nearest chair, he sat and propped heavy fists on the table.

  Lonnie stared. Another man was sitting in Gideon’s chair.

  “Well, that was a lucky chance, I’d say.” Toby smoothed his hands across the table, and they made a swishing sound on the dry wood. “I had gone back to Rocky Knob with Rev’rend Gardner to help him tie up a few loose ends.”

  The room fell silent, and Lonnie looked at Elsie.

  As if remembering why the reverend had come, Elsie jumped. “Why don’t we eat? I’ll go holler for Jebediah.”

  Elsie disappeared, leaving the door open. Lonnie scanned the room, hoping for a topic of conversation to come to her. “Let me fetch you a plate,” she blurted.

  Toby chuckled. “Thank you.”

  Lonnie stacked a fork and knife on top of the plate. “So what part of Scotland do you come from?”

  “Crovie.” When she shook her head, he continued. “ ’Tis a wee fishing village on the north Banffshire coast. Beautiful place.” His smile widened, and a dimple dented each cheek. “I can almost smell the sea … just talking about it.”

  Lonnie slipped his dinnerware into place, and the passion in his voice drew her gaze to his face. “Bet you miss it somethin’ awful.”

  In the middle of the kitchen, Jacob tipped over a basket of rolling pins and laughed as he twirled them about.

  Toby’s dimples deepened and his eyes sparkled. “I do at times.”

  She sank into the chair across from him. Their knees collided, and Lonnie quickly slid her chair backward. Toby cleared his throat and did the same. Sitting so close, she noticed the musky scent of soap that lingered on his skin. When Jacob scooted toward her, she pulled him into her lap.

  Elsie rushed inside. “Jebediah’s gonna be awhile. Thinks a storm’s comin’ in the morning, and he wants to bring in a few armfuls of wood. Supper’s not quite ready anyway, so we have no need to hurry.”

  “I’ll lend him a hand.” Toby offered Lonnie a polite nod, then stood and trudged across the floor. Elsie closed the door for him.

  Lonnie fiddled with a hole in the faded lace tablecloth. She rose, and with Jacob in her arms, stepped to the window. How many times had she peeked through the glass only to wave at Gideon? He’d flash her that grin of his, the one that brought a smile to her own lips. If only she’d noticed his brow knotted with half-truths. Secrets left untold.

  The clang of the stove lids pulled her attention back. Elsie stirred hot coals until they crackled and popped. She lowered a heavy cast-iron circle into place with a bang before stepping behind Lonnie. “Well, he’s a nice fella. Always eager to lend a hand wherever there’s a need.”

  Lonnie watched Toby and Jebediah carry armfuls of firewood toward the porch, chatting happily. “So I see.” The young reverend grinned at something Jebediah said. Just as Gideon had once done. She let the curtain fall, brushed her hand over Jacob’s russet curls, and turned to help Elsie with supper.

  Gideon strode toward
the Allan home, and though his breath was white before his face, a cool noon sun shone down on his shoulders. He scaled the steps and hesitated a single moment before rapping his knuckles on the door. The cold made his hand sting.

  A burst of warmth hit his face when Libby opened the door. She blinked up at Gideon with wide-set eyes, paler than Cassie’s. Before she could speak, a broad shadow moved in behind her.

  “What do you want?” Eli said, his voice low, gruff.

  Annoyed, Gideon shifted his feet. “I came to ask your father if he has a handcart I can borrow.”

  “What for?”

  “The question’s for your pa.”

  “Now see here—”

  “Eli, don’t be such a bully,” Libby cut in. “I’ll go get Pa.” She strode off.

  They stood there, neither one blinking. Gideon stuffed his hands in his pockets and tipped his chin up. So it had come to this.

  Small footsteps drew near. “He has one, and he said you could borrow it.” She spoke to Gideon, then glanced up at her brother who towered over her. “He wants you to show him where it is, Eli.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She waved a hand behind her. “Then you speak to him.”

  Setting his jaw, Eli brushed past Gideon and stalked into the yard.

  “Guess that means I’m supposed to follow him.” Gideon nodded a thanks to Libby and went after the man who had once been his best friend. Eli’s long strides barreled him toward the barn. Gideon matched his pace. Neither one spoke. Eli strode around the barn and quickly scanned a pile of rubble. He lumbered through weeds, followed by Gideon, the near-frozen grasses clinging to their pants. A half barrel sat almost buried in the dirt, and a rusted plow leaned up against the barn. Still no cart.

  Gideon snorted. “Lose something?”

  “Shut up.”

  Gideon held up his hands.

  “You.” Eli growled out the single word and thrust a thick finger in Gideon’s face. “Watch. Yourself.”

  “Or what?” Gideon nearly laughed it. “You’ll finish what you started?” He held his arms out wide. “Go ahead. I’m gettin’ awful tired of this. Tell you what: I’ll let you have the first swing.”

  They stood eye to eye, but Eli had once been taller than Gideon. Those days they’d spent their summers swinging from the knotted rope into Saddler’s pond just on the other side of the holler. They had water fights, ate apples beneath the shade of the great maple, and whittled wooden swords when the weather turned too cold to shed their overalls on the grassy banks. And with Gideon’s mandolin and Eli’s harmonica, they’d spent many an evening serenading the stars with the anthem of summer and boyhood.

  Those days were long gone.

  Eli glared at him. “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you.”

  Gideon twisted his mouth to the side, neither denying nor confirming the man’s words. He could still feel the barrel of Eli’s rifle pressed to his throat. The memory forced down a swallow.

  “She deserved better than you.”

  It was the truth and nothing less. “She did.”

  Frustration burned through Eli’s brown eyes. “Why did you have to … my kid sister?”

  Something in Gideon’s chest began to ache. “I never should have.”

  Eli shoved past him. He took but a few steps, and Gideon followed.

  Gideon trailed him toward the wood crib that sat slanted on the hillside. Eli walked the perimeter, finally pointing to the cart that sat against the west side. “There it is. Try and return it in one piece.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Eli strode off, shoulders hunched. Gideon watched him go. Turning back to his task, he hitched the cart free of the weeds and yanked it from the brambles and brush, finally shoving it onto the hard-packed path. The wheel creaked as he worked his way toward the small cabin, where he parked the cart in front of his workshop. His stomach rumbled, and not wanting to set out without a bite of food, he ducked into the cabin.

  Cassie stood at the kitchen table, clearing away scraps of pumpkin skin. The tiny space smelled good. Really good.

  “Where have you been?” she asked, not unkindly, as he poked around inside the cupboard.

  “Borrowed your pa’s handcart.”

  She stared at him as if he’d just sprouted antlers.

  “Yes. If you’re wondering if it went badly, I assure you it did.”

  Her mouth tipped up on one side.

  At least someone found it amusing. “I’m going to make the rounds. I have a few things I’d like to try and sell.” He grabbed an apple from the basket.

  Wiping her hands on her apron, Cassie moved the scrap bucket toward the door. “I’d like to go with you. I need to get out of this house. If you can wait just a few minutes, I’ll have this pie out of the oven.”

  He wanted to tell her no, but for some reason he didn’t. “I’ll wait.” Not liking the smile that crept into her eyes, he added, “I need to load the cart anyway.”

  “I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

  “If you say so.” He turned and stepped from the crowded cabin, wishing with all his might that his life could have turned out differently.

  Gideon lowered the cart and stretched his hands. Cassie stopped a few paces off. She pulled a pin from her hair, tucked it between her lips, and loosened the coils at the nape of her neck, plaiting it quickly. The November sun glistened on the dark strands. Gideon watched her. Then in an instant, he peeled his gaze away and quickly shook his head. What was he thinking? Shaking out his sore wrist, he looked around and took a quick inventory of his surroundings and the fork in the road.

  He’d already sold a walking stick and a pair of buckets, and now a few dollars lined his pocket. It sent a surge of satisfaction through him. Cold, he wanted to keep moving and started up the trail.

  “Why are you going that way?” Cassie loosened her amber scarf, straightening the knobby folds.

  “Because I want to.”

  “But there are a dozen more homes up this way.” She studied him a moment, her hand propped up on her waist. A trait he’d forgotten about. “Your folks are up this way, you know.”

  He set the cart down. “I know.”

  “And?” She hitched her thumb in that direction, flashing a pair of gray, fingerless mittens. Her skin was paler than usual on this cold morning, making her eyes as vivid as ever. Reaching up, she fiddled with another pin. “Oh come on. Don’t be such a baby.”

  He tugged at the patch of hair beneath his lip. Had she always been this annoying? “Fine.”

  They walked in silence for several minutes. Cassie hummed a tune, and though Gideon knew the words well, he kept silent.

  What he wouldn’t give to hear Lonnie singing beside him. Have her steps lead his through the frostbitten leaves. Cassie walked slowly just a touch ahead, matching his pace. They passed through a chestnut grove, and she bent, plucked a burr from the ground, and let the nut fall into her hand. Dropping the burr, she rolled the chestnut between her wool-covered palms as they walked.

  “Tell me about Jacob,” she finally said.

  He lifted an eyebrow. “You want to hear about my son?”

  “I do. He’s a part of you, isn’t he?” She stepped gingerly over a root that stuck boldly out of the ground.

  He struggled to push the cart over it. “I don’t really know what to say.”

  “He’s very young, no?

  “Jacob was born this spring, a month and a half early.”

  “Oh?”

  “He probably shouldn’t have made it. But by some miracle he did.”

  Gideon shifted his grip on the cart handle, and though the splintery wood scratched his palm, all he could think of was the downy feel of his son’s head. A swell filled his chest. How many times had he kissed that little head? Watched Lonnie press her lips there? His wife. His son. His family.

  “Gideon?”

  For some reason he’d stopped walking altogether. Cassie stared at him.

  “Did
you hear me?”

  “No.”

  Her expression was soft. “I said you must have been so nervous. Terrified that he wasn’t going to make it.”

  “I wasn’t there.”

  “You weren’t there?”

  Gideon leaned into the weight of the cart, wishing Cassie wouldn’t pry. “It’s a long story.”

  She swung her hands back and forth. Her petticoats, a mismatch of colors and textures, bounced beneath her skirt. “It’s a long walk.”

  They turned the corner, and he was glad to see their first stop. He spotted Old Man Tate in his garden, squatted down among a patch of greens. Gideon showed him the goods in the cart, while Cassie gleaned sprigs of thyme poking through the garden gate. In the end, the man chose a walking stick and paid Gideon with a pair of coins. The sum was small, but the stick would be put to good use by the eighty-year-old.

  They bade farewell, and Cassie sidled up beside him.

  “So where were we?” Her brown braid bounced on her shoulder, and she fiddled with the ends playfully.

  Gideon tried not to notice.

  “Jacob.”

  He slowed.

  Cassie followed suit.

  “Look. If it’s all the same, I’d rather not talk about it.”

  “Sorry. I thought it might make you feel better.”

  “No, Cassie. It doesn’t make me feel better.” He motioned with his hands toward the south. “They’re gone. Gone.” His voice hitched. “And there’s nothing I can do to get them back. Talking about it does not make it easier.”

  She pursed her lips. The breeze blew her bangs across her face, and she tucked them into place. “How long are you going to hold on to her?”

  “You don’t want me to answer that question.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  He stopped. This was a bad, bad idea. He should be in his shop. Alone. Not standing here on the hillside with Cassie Allan peppering him for answers that were best left buried. Deep. “Fine … forever. I’m not going to stop. Happy?”

  Her eyes sparked. When she stopped walking, he glanced up and realized they were in front of his parents’ farm.