She fumbled with the slender drawer beneath the writing surface, and she gave the thin brass handle a tug. She tucked her fingers beneath old letters and notes. Lifting the drawer lining, she found three sheets of paper, safely hidden from sight. Her shaky handwriting littered the pages.
Lonnie splayed them across the desk. The name, so elegantly lettered on top of the page, made her heart leap.
Gideon.
She stared at the curving letters written by her own hand in the midst of her deepest sorrow. Her gaze ran the length of the page—weeks’ worth of prayers and pleas. The words written there Lonnie would never share. Not with Gideon, not with anyone.
The pen sank into the bottle of ink, and she lightly tapped the tip on the edge of the small glass bottle. With a sigh as heavy as her heart, Lonnie smoothed a hand across the third and final page. The pen trembled as she struggled to form a good-bye. After several minutes, the pen slipped from her hand, and she let her head fall into ink-stained palms.
The room had long since fallen under shadow of night. A single candle burned on the nightstand, the tiny flame illuminating Cassie’s face. Propping his elbows on his knees, Gideon leaned forward. The doctor had come and gone. His words were clear. “Do your best to keep her fever down. There’s little to be done but watch and wait.”
Gideon lifted his eyes and studied Mary across from him. She was nestled in the rocking chair, but the plaid blanket that covered her drooping shoulders did little to conceal her restless slumber. Gideon did not blame her. He could never sleep. Not now.
“Only time will tell.” The doctor’s own words.
He lifted the rag from Cassie’s burning skin and dipped it in the bowl of cool water that sat between his knees. He wrung out the cloth, and dripping water was all that broke the silence. Gideon folded the rag carefully and placed it against Cassie’s cheeks with an unspoken prayer that it would draw the fever from her body.
She stirred. Her eyelids fluttered open.
Gideon leaned toward her. “Cassie,” he whispered, not wanting to wake Mary for fear their private moment would come to an abrupt end.
Her lips formed his name.
“You’ve been asleep all day.” He fumbled for the right words, not knowing how long she would be able to steal away from her much needed sleep. “Can I get you some water?”
When she blinked, he snatched a tin mug from the nightstand and held it to her lips. He slipped a hand behind her head and tried to help her up. Her lips parted. His hand trembled. Water dripped and ran down her neck and onto the bed. Swallowing what little water she got, Cassie sank back against her pillow. Her misty eyes searched his.
Knowing this was his chance, Gideon ran a hand along his forehead and braved the words he should have spoken long ago. “I’m so sorry.” His voice was hoarse. “I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever done to you. You deserve so much better than what I’ve given you.”
Cassie blinked again, and the corners of her mouth turned upward in the faintest of smiles. Lowering his face to hers, Gideon kissed her hair. Her eyes closed.
Standing before the fire, Lonnie held the letter out to the open flames. The parlor had long since fallen dark, but the glowing embers in the hearth had offered enough light to finish. The small flame licked at the open air, summoning her to do what must be done. Lonnie hesitated, then, accepting the invitation, she opened her fingers. Three pages sailed from her hand and floated down.
She dropped to her knees and stared as her words caught fire. Words of love. Words of hope. Lost hope. The ivory paper smoked, and the curving lines of black ink were devoured. What once was, was no more. When every brokenhearted word had turned to ash, she sank back.
Elsie shuffled in and stopped beside the burlap sack. “What’s this?”
Lonnie moved away from the fire and laid her hands in her lap. “Just some old clothes.” She tipped her chin up, hoping Elsie wouldn’t notice her tears. “I don’t need them anymore, and I figured I would donate them to the church.”
The woman’s voice was soft. “Toby could take it there for you.”
“That was the idea.” Lonnie held Elsie’s knowing gaze. “I’ll ask him next time he stops by.”
Elsie folded her arms in front of her and stared out the parlor window. She smoothed her hands up and down her arms and mentioned stoking the fire. Lonnie scarcely caught her words. Instead, it was Elsie’s listless gaze that captured her attention. When Elsie turned to face her, the older woman’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. Although the words never escaped her lips, Lonnie saw that Elsie’s unspoken distress mirrored her own.
It wasn’t supposed to turn out this way.
“Still no change?” The doctor leaned over Cassie’s bed and studied her through thick spectacles. “What have you been doing for her?”
Gideon blinked up at him through stinging eyes. “Everything you said to do.”
At Henry’s insistence, Eli had gone to fetch the doctor once more. “I don’t care what it costs. Just get him!” Henry had slapped Eli’s mount on the rump, and both horse and rider tore through the fog-covered land at dawn. Gideon watched as Eli rode away, back hunched, horse’s hoofs thundering away into silence.
Now, with the doctor at a loss for words, Gideon hung his head. There had to be something he could do for Cassie.
Anything.
The doctor lifted his black leather bag from the floor and set it on the edge of the bed. He pulled out a shiny stethoscope and wrapped the earpieces on each side of his neck before sliding them into his ears. Smoothing two fingers down the silk-lined tubing, he fumbled with the black chest piece before slipping it beneath the collar of Cassie’s nightgown.
Lifting his eyes, he stared at the wall before him. Gideon counted his own heartbeats as the doctor listened without speaking. Finally, the old man shook his head.
“Too fast,” he murmured.
The morning sun that streamed through the window glistened against shiny metal as the doctor slid the contraption back in his black bag. Snap. The bag closed, and the doctor turned to Gideon.
His brown eyes seemed to frown, and his brows fell. He pressed his spectacles against his face with the tip of his finger. “Time will tell.” He averted his gaze. “Keep doing what I told you.”
“That’s it?” Gideon stepped through the bedroom doorway with the doctor close behind. Although Cassie was asleep, he lowered his voice. “Nothing more can be done for her?”
For the first time that morning, the doctor’s gaze bore into Gideon’s. “I’m afraid not.” His words, though gently spoken, were clear.
Gideon ushered the doctor from the small cabin, and the tall, slender man climbed into the saddle of his horse. With a stiff wave, Gideon watched him depart, certain another sickbed required his services. Several others had come down with the fever across the hillsides. Gideon wasn’t the only man to receive dire news.
He ducked inside and paced the short distance to the bedroom. Standing in the doorway, he watched Cassie sleep. Her ma had spent hours combing her hair, and now the unbound strands draped over her shoulders. To the doctor, she was just one of many. Gideon stuffed his fists into his pants pockets and continued to stare at the woman fighting for her life.
And to me?
He sank into the chair at the bedside and crossed his arms. Leaning forward he rested his elbows on his knees.
“Cassie?” His raspy voice broke the stillness.
Her ashen lips did not part in the smile he hungered to see.
“The doc just left. But I’m here. I’ll take care of you.” He took her limp hand in his and rubbed small circles across her smooth skin with his thumb. With her round mouth slightly parted, her chest rose and fell slowly beneath her nightgown. Mary came and went. Once. Twice. Gideon didn’t move. He glanced to the nightstand, spotting Cassie’s scarlet ribbon coiled beside the candleholder. Taking it, he rested his forearms on his knees. The ribbon was silk in his fingers.
He wished he were stronger. Wi
ser. A stronger man would pray. A wiser man would have the words. Not the growl of a bear in his chest. The desire to fight against whatever it was that made these things happen. Fingers interlocked, Gideon gripped the back of his neck. So here he sat. A thousand questions filling his mind. If Jebediah were here, he’d know what to do. He’d say something about the Lord’s will. And that it might be done.
Gideon hung his head, not sure what to make of that. He yearned for just one minute at the man’s side, sawdust scattered about their boots, Jebediah’s sage advice filling the air with a husky reverence. Heart thundering, Gideon wished with all his might that the man’s voice might cross the miles. For he was in desperate need of guidance.
Cassie heard him say her name, but other than the familiar word, she heard so much more. Did he love her? Could it be? Trapped in a restless slumber, she wished she had the strength to wake, if only to open her eyes long enough to voice what had never been wanted or desired. I love you, Gideon.
Her flesh was on fire. She squirmed, but there was no escaping the prison her body had become. Is this the end? Was God going to take her away from this life? Cassie tried to swallow, but her burning throat was too dry. Tears stung her eyes, and her hand twitched where it lay at her side, but she had no strength to wipe them away.
She wanted to see his face one last time. She struggled to open her eyes, but it was useless. Overwhelmed by fear, she could scarcely breathe, and she forced down a cry lest it choke her. Wake up! She was a fool to hope, but she had to try.
“Cassie.”
She knew that voice. Oh, how she loved that voice.
Gideon, I’m here.
Sorrow crushed her chest until it burned. Cassie gasped and felt a hot tear slip from the corner of her eye, only to slide toward her pillow. She felt herself drift away.
Gideon hung his head and saw Cassie not as she was, but as he remembered her.
“Gideon.” Cassie laughed.
Closing his eyes, he heard her cheery voice in his heart. He could almost see her small frame cross the bedroom in the wee hours of the morning when she had thought him sleeping. He cringed. How many times had he stayed away? How many times had he avoided her touch? Gideon covered her hand with his, engulfing it in the cool embrace of his chilled palms. Was it in him to make it right?
Footsteps shuffled into the small cabin, and a voice, so similar to Cassie’s, broke the silence. “Gideon. I brought you something to eat.”
He did not lift his eyes from Cassie’s face. “I’m not hungry.”
“You must eat.” Mary’s voice grew thin. “She’ll be there when you’re done.”
Gideon shook his head.
“Please, Gid. You both need your rest. Let her sleep. You’ll be no use to her if you don’t keep your strength up.”
As much as it pained him to leave Cassie’s side, he did as Mary asked. Sinking down at the small table, he watched her pull food from a basket.
“I made you a sandwich.” She laid the meal in front of him, then lifted out a jar of cider. “And this.” She unscrewed the lid. “You eat. I’ll go sit with her.”
Needing to form the words, Gideon cleared his throat and spoke her name.
Mary turned slowly.
“I’m sorry,” he finally managed. Unable to eat, he lowered the sandwich to the table. “I’m so sorry.”
“Oh, Gid.” Mary sank into the chair across from him.
There wasn’t enough moisture in his mouth to swallow his guilt. He could still see Cassie reach for his hand only to have him turn away. He could still feel her touch his shoulder only to have his muscle tense beneath her palm. God, how do I fix this?
There had to be a way to change. Alter the course of his heart to be the husband Cassie needed. It would require more than sacrifice. It would require more than a lie. It would require his life—his heart.
A muffled noise caught his attention, and Gideon lifted his head. Mary followed his lead. Her brow furrowed.
Crash!
“Cassie,” Mary breathed.
Gideon jumped from his chair, sending it spinning across the floor. He rushed toward the bedroom and barreled past the door.
Hot wax spilled from the candlestick that rolled across the floorboards. The tin candleholder spun away.
“Grab that bowl!” Mary darted toward the bed, nearly knocking over a chair. She tore the quilt off Cassie’s trembling body.
Gideon reached for the chipped crock, but his hand knocked it from the nightstand. The ivory stoneware hit the floor with a disturbing thud. Water pooled beneath the nightstand, spreading wherever it willed. Gideon dropped to his knees.
Mary tossed the quilt to the floor and waved her hand at him. “Just toss me the rag!”
Gideon snatched up the rag and wrung it out over drenched floorboards. He tossed it to Mary’s outstretched hand and stared as she swept it across her daughter’s glistening forehead. She folded the rag and dabbed at Cassie’s lips. What pain tormented her body, Gideon would never know. All he knew was that while he had stopped for supper, she had been alone in the bedroom. Fighting for her life.
He struggled to his feet. Cassie tossed her head from side to side and arched her back. Her wrinkled nightgown, now damp, clung to her translucent skin. The illness inside her was raging now. Gideon watched in horror as she fought violently to breathe. Her lips parted. She extended her frail neck. Pressing her head deeper into the pillow, she pitched her head to the side and gasped. Gideon’s mouth went dry.
Breathe, Cassie!
He found himself holding his breath, and when he finally drew air into his burning lungs, fear consumed him. There was nothing he could do to help her. Cassie gasped and her body settled. Rolling to the side, she coughed into her pillow.
“She’s burnin’ up,” Mary said.
Cassie’s hand searched the disheveled sheets. Her fingers groped at nothing. Gideon slid his hand out for her to grab. Instead of taking hold, her lost fingers blindly fumbled the rumpled bedding.
Mary swiped her sleeve across her own forehead. “I’ve never seen a fever this bad.”
Mouth dry with fear, he rose. “I’ll get more water.”
He needed to make himself useful somehow—someway. Snatching up the crock, he dashed into the kitchen and thrust it into the bucket of cold water. He returned in time for Mary to dip the rag and wring it out once more. She laid the cloth over Cassie’s forehead. “I just don’t know what else to do.” She shook her head.
Gideon stared at her. It wasn’t over. It couldn’t be.
Finally, Cassie’s body settled. The rise and fall of her chest slowed.
“There has to be something else we can do.” He grabbed the rag and rinsed the tattered fabric before smoothing it down Cassie’s arm. He lifted her limp wrist and pressed the cool cloth into her palm.
“There must be some way to draw this out of her.” Despair wrapped its merciless hands around his heart.
Then the idea struck him. Pushing the rag off Cassie, he slid his arms beneath her frail frame and hoisted her off the bed.
Mary stood. “What are you doing?”
Swiveling through the doorway, Gideon thundered through the kitchen and out the door, Cassie’s hot body clutched against his chest.
Mary followed him. “Gideon!”
He sank to his knees in the snow and held Cassie tight. “She’s burning up.” He lifted his eyes to Mary. “Please help me.”
She knelt at his side, and her hands trembled in hesitation. Then she grabbed a handful of snow and ran it along her daughter’s collarbone. Cassie winced and shuddered. The snow that melted against her skin dribbled beneath the lace neckline, dampening her nightgown.
With red fingers, Mary scooped up another mound of snow; this time she smeared it down Cassie’s arm. Frail fingers curled around the snow. Water trickled from the creases of Cassie’s hand. Turning toward Gideon, Cassie buried her face in his chest. Her body began to shake.
He held her that way for several minutes, th
en finally Gideon spoke, his voice faltering. “I don’t know what to do.”
Cassie shook harder and coughed into the sleeve at her wrist. Gideon looked at his mother-in-law.
“Get her inside,” Mary gently urged.
Gideon carried Cassie back into the house and laid her on the rumpled sheets.
When her body settled, he knelt beside her and clasped her hand. “I don’t know if this is right. I can’t do nothin’.”
Mary crumpled into the rocking chair and dropped her head to her knees. Her silver-laced bun tumbled free, and her body shook with sobs. Kneeling against the bed, Gideon pulled Cassie’s hand into his.
“Cassie. Listen to me. You hang on. Just hang on—” When his voice cracked, he dropped his head to the mattress.
He heard Mary whisper a prayer. Her plea so fervent, he closed his eyes. His own lips moved in quiet petition; he hoped the words would be enough. A hot tear puddled and fell.
The wind picked up, swirling snow in a glittering spiral across the yard. Lonnie stood on the porch steps and watched the land before her transform. What had been a sunny day was being swallowed up by the menacing storm that loomed on the horizon, threatening to drop its heavy burden on the land below.
Jacob had babbled the word Mama that morning. Filling her heart to overflowing. Yet she wondered if he would ever know another word—Papa. The sack of Gideon’s things still sat in the parlor. All that they had left of him. Waiting. Waiting for her to let go. Lonnie ran her fingertips together.
Lifting her face to the trees on the other side of the house, she watched dark-gray clouds slowly roll in. The thick mass that filled the sky promised more snow. Lonnie shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. The sun was gone, and she was certain it would be days before its light warmed the land once more.
A cold wind, colder than any she’d ever felt, crept beneath her thick layers. Her shawl flapped, but Lonnie hugged herself tighter.
Though My Heart Is Torn Page 25
