Adelaide bowed her head. “Thank You, Lord.” She hesitated and Gideon lifted his eyes. With a push of her lips, she shook her head. “Amen.”
“Amen.”
“Butter’s fresh.” She pushed an ivory crock toward him.
After smearing some on his slice, Gideon chewed the crust in silence. He ate his eggs in a few quick bites.
“More?” Adelaide asked, turning in her chair toward the stove.
Gideon waved her down. “I’m fine, thank you.” He did not want to take any more of her provisions than necessary. “There’s plenty of bread here. I hate to waste it.”
“Spoken like a man who’d eat just about anything right now.”
He nodded his agreement. His shoulder ached. From the cold or the journey, he didn’t know. Probably both. He rubbed it gently.
Adelaide glanced toward the fire, her crown of braids catching the light. Gideon studied her hunched form and wondered how she survived all alone. He took in the small space, and though it was humble, it seemed to hold all a body could need.
“I’m afraid you won’t get far in this weather.”
“I’ve walked in a storm before.”
Her eyelids, heavy with petal-thin skin, blinked twice. “I can tell.”
Gideon shifted his boots.
“You comin’ or goin’?”
“Little bit of both. Headin’ back to my family. Wife and son.” He’d spoken too soon. “Well, my son … and his mother.” He cleared his throat.
Something flickered through her sharp eyes. “What took you away?”
It was a question he couldn’t begin to answer. Not now, like this. Gideon rolled his sore shoulder.
She seemed to notice. Knife in hand, Adelaide smeared butter on a slice of bread, then set it gently in the center of her plate. Then she went to her bed and pulled a wooden box from underneath.
He wanted to change the subject. The less he talked about himself, the better. “What about you? Any family?”
She waved away the question as if it didn’t exist. Snapping the case open, she returned with a small glass jar. From the jar she pulled a pinch of something and dropped it into a little pot, which she placed near the fire.
Returning, she tapped him on the shoulder. “Your shirt.” She made the motion of him pulling it off to the side.
Uncertain, he slid the top buttons free.
She frowned.
Fine. He unbuttoned two more and pulled his arm from both his shirt and long underwear. With leathery fingers, she touched the muscle that always ached in the cold.
“What did you do?”
“I dislocated it. This past fall. Been botherin’ me off and on ever since.”
“Hmm.” She pulled the small copper pot away from the fire and set it on the table. Scooping a finger full of moist, dark herbs, she pressed them against his shoulder. Almost too hot for comfort.
Gideon tightened his jaw, glad when the mixture began to cool.
She grabbed a rag and tore it into a strip. Gideon held his arm out as she wrapped his shoulder, sealing in the warm herbs.
“What is this?” he finally asked.
“It’ll help the ache.” She motioned for him to put his shirt back on.
With the tight bandage, his movements were slow, but he managed to slide his arm into the sleeve of his thermals.
“I’ve got a cure for anything that could ail a body.” She watched as he slid his arm gingerly through the sleeve of his wrinkled work shirt. “But some things can’t be cured with what you can gather from the earth.”
Peering up at her, he started on the buttons.
“There ain’t an herb on earth that’ll cure what’s ailin’ you.”
The fire crackled in the hearth, and Gideon lifted his eyes to the window. White flakes fell. The sky was growing darker, heavy clouds blanketing mountains that seemed to be holding their breath.
Holding a secret he wasn’t privy to.
“Have you … have you ever wondered what it would be like to begin again?” He looked back at Adelaide. “Just start over. Have everything you’ve ever done wiped clean?”
She set the jar of herbs beside him, and by the look she gave him, it was a gift. Humbled, he studied her wrinkled face. She sat, and after a few moments, she spoke.
“I’m a good listener.” An invitation.
Gideon focused on the last button, finally sliding it into place. He rested his hands on the table. “My whole life I’ve always worried about losing myself. I’ve always worried about missing out on what it was that I wanted.”
“And now?”
“Now.” He folded his fingers together. “Now, all I can think about is them. All I want is my family. Perhaps that’s selfish in itself.” They deserved to be cared for. Could he even do that?
Adelaide pursed her lips. “Letting go can be a harder way to love than holding on.” Like rain on a river rock, her blue eyes glistened.
And he wondered what she’d lived through.
They sat in silence. Gideon rolled his shoulder gently, the soreness nearly a memory.
“S’pose you’ll want to get on the road now. You’ve got a fair bit of ground to cover yet.”
“Yes ma’am.” Gideon stood and pushed in his chair. Adelaide rose and shuffled inside her cupboard as Gideon cinched his bedroll tight and fastened it to his pack. She slid the jar of herbs as well as a larger jar of pickles into his pack. In the corner of the room, she lifted the lid to an old chest and, after shuffling around, pulled out a dark knit cap.
She handed it to Gideon. “Keep warm out there.”
“Thank you.” When she turned away, Gideon slipped his coins on the windowsill beside her bed. After cramming the cap into his coat pocket, it took him but a minute to lace his boots.
Remembering the old newspaper, he asked if she still had need of it. Adelaide handed it to him along with a small bundle of bread. A thank-you on his lips, he slid both inside his pack.
“You take care now,” she said.
“I will. You too.”
Hands clasped in front of her, she stepped back.
Gideon nodded in farewell, then stuffed his hands in his coat pockets, ignoring his gloves. Snow fell gently all around. Beckoning him forward into a land of white and quiet. A purity that was filled with possibilities.
“Letting go can be a harder way to love than holding on.”
But he’d already let go. He saw Lonnie’s face in his mind. Something inside began to ache at the sight, and he swallowed hard.
How he missed her.
There was so much he wanted to say, but Gideon knew that the moment he saw her, words would fail him. Everything else would fade away. He’d fold her in his arms and not let go. The memory of her scent greeted him—a memory that had hidden itself for months. His blood surged, kindling a fire within him. It carried him forward. The feel of her hair, the sound of her voice against his neck.
His footsteps slowed. Would she push him away? Would she believe him? believe that he had loved no other but her?
Why should she? She had no reason to.
His breath quickened. Not after what he’d done. He’d left her to be with another. “But not by choice,” he blurted aloud to himself, his voice so earnest he hung his head. Who was he fooling? He’d left all the same. For months, he and Cassie had lived beneath the same roof.
Husband and wife.
Chills crept across Gideon’s shoulders at what Lonnie would think of him. Of what she must have imagined he’d done. His reputation would be hard to stand down. He’d spent all of his adult life with a woman at his side. On his arm. And then some. Lonnie knew that.
Oh, God.
What she must think of him? He hadn’t loved Cassie—not in the way the law gave him freedom to these last few months. In the way it had to appear. But Lonnie had no way of knowing that. Even then, was she to simply take his word that he was no longer married? After all he’d done to break her trust, he didn’t like the idea of having nothing
but his promise to give her. He wanted to earn her trust, but he needed her to allow him into her life to do that.
He thought of the papers the circuit rider had slipped into his satchel. His and Cassie’s wish to dissolve their marriage had surely reached the courthouse by now. Gideon had used the Bennetts’ return address for his confirmation that all was settled. Had the letter arrived at the post office in Mount Airy?
It seemed too soon. Much too soon. Gideon’s boots halted, and he glanced in the direction of the small town. He could go there and find out. It’d be a few days’ journey, but even then, it could take weeks before he received confirmation from the courthouse. No. That would never do.
Or …
Gideon glanced southeast.
He could go directly to the Patrick County courthouse himself. A day or two would lead him to Stuart, where the courthouse was. A stop there for the proof he needed to show Lonnie that he was an unmarried man, and he would be on his way in no time. It took only a moment to decide, and Gideon picked up his pace.
It killed him to turn away from the path that would lead him home. He longed for his family, but he wanted to reach them as a free man.
And there was only one way to find out. Two more days and he would be in Stuart. One, if he walked fast. Lifting his eyes, he studied the darkening sky, then ducked his head and quickened his steps. One day. He would make it there in one.
Five
“Out you go.” Lonnie shooed a speckled hen from her resting spot, and the chicken flapped out of the coop, into the open yard. She ushered out two more, taking care not to startle them. Rake in hand, Jebediah worked beside her, piling up old hay and feathers. Lonnie laid two green eggs in her bucket, a surprise considering the cold weather, and set the bucket aside. After blowing a lock of hair that fell across her forehead, she fiddled with the handkerchief knotted around her mess of a bun.
Jebediah lowered a shovelful of muck into the wheelbarrow that stood between them. Lonnie gripped the handles, and the wheels squeaked into motion.
“Lonnie, don’t move that. I’ll get it.”
“I don’t mind. Besides, it’s only half full.”
Jebediah’s mustache lifted, and the skin around his eyes crinkled. “That’s ’cause I knew you’d try and move it.”
She pushed the wheelbarrow out of the coop, grateful the fresh snow scarcely rose past her toes. Tipping the load beside the garden just as Jebediah had done the time before, she watched the contents tumble out. A good shake, and the last of it freed from the rusted metal. Lonnie heaved the wheelbarrow to a stand and started back.
Scraping his shovel against the coop floor, Jebediah glanced up. “Let me move the next one.”
“I don’t mind. Honestly, it gets me out into the sunshine.”
Jebediah looked toward the thick woods. Despite the late January temperature, he wiped his sleeve across his brow. “Toby should be here in a bit to lend a hand with the barn. I wanted to pay him, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”
Lonnie tugged at the flannel shirt hanging low over her muddy skirt. “He’ll be here in a bit?” She tried to tuck loose strands of hair into her bun.
“He was supposed to be here just after breakfast.” Jebediah’s gray eyebrows fell. He lifted a shovelful of muck into the wheelbarrow and dug in for more. His breath came in spurts when he spoke. “Wonder what’s keepin’ him.”
“I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
“He will. That man’s the hardest worker I know.”
“Yeah?” Her voice sounded weak. Lonnie licked her lips to keep an unwelcome emotion from betraying her.
“Well.” Jebediah glanced at the ground between them. He ran his palms together as if to wipe dust from memories meant to be forgotten. “You know what I mean.” His tone was distant, apologetic. Gideon’s name hung in the air.
Corralling her thoughts, Lonnie fiddled with the hem of the oversized shirt she’d put on that morning. They stood there several moments without speaking until finally Lonnie grabbed handfuls of clean straw and filled the empty nesting boxes. “Maybe I better go inside and get cleaned up.”
“You don’t want to wait around for Toby?”
She lifted a pinch of her skirt. “Not like this.” Having spent the morning with Addie and the growing goats across the way, she was more than ready for a pass at the washstand and a change of clothes. Her heart sank when Toby rode Gael into view.
“Aw, come on. You look fine to me.”
Lonnie laughed as she moved toward the house, all the while knowing it was too late to vanish out of sight. “Sure.” She wiped her hands together, feeling the grit of dirt between them. “I think I look nice enough to give the mule a bath.”
Hearing Toby approach, she forced herself to turn and face them.
As he walked toward the coop, Toby pulled a pair of work gloves from his back pocket. “Give the mule a bath, you say? Now that’s a sight I’d verra much like to see.” He slowed, finally standing closer to Jebediah than Lonnie.
But she had his gaze.
“Sorry I’m late. A man up the way just lamed his horse. Gael an’ I spent the morning hauling wood from the forest to his door.” He flicked his thumb over his shoulder toward the brown mare who was searching for something to graze on.
“How’d it go?” Jebediah asked.
Toby followed Jebediah’s silent lead back into the coop, and Lonnie leaned against the doorway to keep from filling up the small space. “I think Gael was in a mood about getting up that early.” He rubbed his forehead as if tired. “But she’s young. She can handle it.” His smile landed on Lonnie. “The good news is that with his horse out of service, he asked if I’d like to borrow his wagon for anything … so I thought I’d see if you might want to come with me to church this Sunday. I know it’s too far on foot, but perhaps if I brought the wagon ’round …”
“Oh, really?” Lonnie straightened. “That would be such a treat.”
“I thought you might enjoy a bit of an outing.”
She nodded and suddenly remembered how desperately she needed to get inside and change. “Would you like some coffee, Toby?”
He rested a gloved hand on the end of his shovel. “That’d be nice, thank you.” He seemed to study her.
“I’ll be right back.” Lonnie walked to the house. Inside, she scrubbed her hands in the kitchen washbasin, then snatched a tin mug from the cupboard and filled it with coffee. A splash of cream and a sprinkle of sugar later, she carried the steaming cup outside. As her fingers thawed from the heat, she watched Toby lower the wheelbarrow. Pulling off his work gloves, he met her halfway.
“Thank you.” He tipped the cup to his lips.
Lonnie fiddled with the cuff of her plaid shirt. Gideon’s shirt.
She thought she was rid of every trace. Every memory. But a few weeks ago, the shirt surfaced in Elsie’s mending basket, and Lonnie couldn’t bear to let it go. Why she’d worn it today of all days, she’d never know. It wasn’t as if she really wanted to get it dirty. In fact, she had every intention of soaking out the stains and smudges from today. She peered up at Toby, who kept his eyes away, as if to give her time to speak.
“You’re welcome,” she hurried to say when she realized she was yet to answer. If she wasn’t a mess from one end to the other today. She took a step back. “You’ll stay for dinner, won’t you? I can make that honey cornbread you liked last time.”
“I think it was Jacob’s favorite too.” His voice warmed on the name of her son. “I think between the two of us, we ate most of the pan.”
“I remember that.” Another patch of peace seemed to cover her ever-mending heart. “He seems to like anything you do. Instead of trying to get him to eat his peas, I’m just going to give you an extra helping. That’ll do the trick.”
Tilting his face to the ground, Toby grinned as broad as she’d ever seen. He tugged at his hair, and when he finally glanced back at her, his eyes held a tenderness that made it nearly impossible to look away.
> Jebediah leaned his shovel against the side of the coop and gripped the handles of the wheelbarrow. “It’s a good thing I’m not payin’ ya.”
“I should get to work,” Toby said. A friendly nod to Lonnie, and he strode back toward the coop.
Lonnie hurried into the house. She filled her washstand with hot water and crawled out of her clothes, tossing them to the side. As she scrubbed soap up her arms, she forced herself not to pick up Gideon’s shirt, smooth out the wrinkles, and drape it over the chair. Once washed and dressed, Lonnie scurried downstairs to start the noon meal.
Struck with cabin fever, Elsie had taken the antsy children to a neighbor’s house for the morning. The kitchen seemed to sigh an emptiness without her. Lonnie filled a bowl with cornmeal and leavening, cracked two eggs, then whisked in softened butter.
Through the window in the back door, she could see Jebediah and Toby working. Though she didn’t want to let on, she knew Toby had spoken to Jebediah alone last week. The thought unsettled her, but not from anxiety. Lonnie stepped from the window. If her suspicions were correct, Toby would have a question for her soon.
And not just any question. She forced herself to take a steady breath.
After beating the batter until it was silky, she filled a greased cast-iron pan and slid it into the oven. She was gathering up broken eggshells when Toby shouldered the door open, an armload of wood pressed to his chest.
“Jeb and I just finished, and he sent me in to bring you wood.” He dropped the split fir in the woodbox and brushed dust from his pants. “He might have mentioned something about wanting coffee too.”
“Sounds like Jebediah.” Lonnie filled a cup. “Would you like more for yourself?”
Toby placed his empty cup in the washtub. “No, thank you. I’m fine.” He stood just behind her. Surely he wouldn’t ask her now?
Hands atremble, Lonnie poured cream into Jebediah’s coffee. Oh dear. Jebediah didn’t take cream. Toby did. A shake of the pot showed it was nearly empty. Well, Jebediah was getting cream today.
My Hope Is Found Page 4
