Be Still My Soul: The Cadence of Grace, Book 1 (6 page)

Lonnie’s abrupt words were no louder than a whisper. “Go away, Gideon.”

He rose but studied her small form. She hardly seemed older than a child, but he knew better. She was seventeen and more than able to marry. “Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow?” She lifted her head. Her eyes were red.

“That’s what your pa decided on.”

The color drained from her cheeks.

Good. Perhaps a healthy dose of fear would get her to reason with the lunatic she called a father. “Unless you can get him to change his mind. If not, I have to do right by you. Is that what you really want?”

Lonnie rose and smoothed her dress. She started past him, then paused. Her shoulder nearly brushed against his. The scent of hickory and nutmeg lifted from her dress.

“It’s never mattered what I want.” She strode away, her ankles pale beneath her hemline.

Gideon did not follow her. He turned, picked up a grainy rock, and hurled it at a tree. The clump shattered.

He heard his pa call him, and Gideon wasted no time climbing into the wagon. He hardly gave his pa a chance to do the same before he slapped the reins against the mules’ backs.

His pa cleared his throat, and Gideon looked at him.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Gideon blurted. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

His pa worked his jaw and leaned back against the wagon seat. “You’re gonna bring that little gal home tomorrow and start making this right.” He ran his knuckles over his knee.

“Is that so? And what about Ma?”

“I’ll see to your mother.”

“Sure you will.” Gideon slapped the reins again. If there was one person who ruled the O’Riley roost, it certainly wasn’t his pa.

When they pulled in front of their house, Gideon left the beasts in his pa’s care and stormed toward the barn. He was in no mood for questions and curiosities from his siblings. He unloosened his necktie and yanked it off.

He closed the barn door tight, wishing he could lock it. He threw his necktie into the corner, then grabbed a pitchfork and got to work scraping old hay from the unoccupied stalls.

The events from the last few days turned over and over like a millstone in his mind, grinding his actions into his conscience. But there was nothing to be done.

He could not step back in time and erase it all. He certainly could not waltz over to the Sawyer farm and tell Joel that he would not marry his daughter. That would only land him on the receiving end of Joel’s shotgun.

Gideon clenched his hands around the handle of the pitchfork until the splintered wood dug into his callused skin. Nothing in his past suggested he had the makings of a husband. In fact, he had more than enough evidence to prove that he wasn’t. He, as well as the rest of Rocky Knob, knew that he was the last thing a young woman needed. And he hated the thought of being shackled to one woman. Despised it, in fact.

With a grunt, he threw the tool against the wall. It clanged to the floor, and he kicked it aside. A goat stumbled around in her stall. With all his strength, he hooked his left arm, and his fist struck the wall. Pain seared through his knuckles and into his arm, but he pulled back and struck the solid wall again.

A shot belted through him. Pulling his arm back, he stumbled away from the wall and stared at his battered hand.

His ma called from the house.

Gideon tucked his fist in his shirt and hurried off toward the cabin. He slipped in the door. His littlest brother and sister sat at the table. He kept to the shadow on the far wall as he walked toward the bedroom in search of his sister.

His mother gasped when she saw his fist. “What happened to you?”

The frown that wrinkled her lips told Gideon she was not amused. The flour that covered her hands and the pot boiling on the stove told him she had no time for his predicament.

“Oh.” He shook out his hand as casually as he could lest she see the damage. He was already embarrassed enough. “It was an accident. It’s not that bad.”

His ma clicked her tongue. “Well, go and wash up. Mae’ll see to your hand.” She dipped a slice of rabbit meat into a pan of flour before dropping it in the frying pan. “I’ve got hungry kids waitin’ for their food, and I ain’t got time for your foolishness.” Her tone indicated that she meant more than a battered hand. For a moment, Gideon wanted her to know that he hadn’t done what they had already judged him for. But the thought passed quickly. There was no point. And he was too tired to care.
Let ’em think what they want
.

He grabbed the kettle and moved to the far end of the room. With his back to the children crowded around the table, Gideon dipped his hand into the washbasin. The hot water stung.

His sister stepped from the bedroom and leaned over his shoulder. She clutched a pair of crumpled sheets beneath her arm. “What on earth did you do?” she whispered.

He let out a heavy sigh but didn’t respond.

“Pa told me what happened.” Mae pursed her lips, making her cheeks dimple. She took Gideon’s hand and spoke with motherly concern far beyond her fourteen years. A trait she’d developed with four rowdy brothers to look after. “Let me see that.”

Gideon let her take his hand. “What else did he say?”

Mae dabbed at the dried blood with a damp rag. “He said you were going to marry Lonnie Sawyer.” She glanced up. “He said her pa is
makin’
you.”

He grimaced at the shameful truth in her words. Gideon exhaled and lowered his voice. “Did he tell you why?”

“Didn’t have to. It’s obvious, and Ma isn’t too happy about it.”

Gideon winced when Mae squeezed his hand too tight. She rinsed her rag and dabbed at the wound. “ ’Sides, you know how Ma feels about the Sawyers. She hasn’t liked them for as long as I can remember.” She glanced over her shoulder and continued in a quiet voice. “Granny used to say it was because Joel Sawyer picked Maggie over Ma and Ma never got over it.” Mae’s chestnut eyes glistened as they narrowed under the weight of her words.

His eyes flicked to his ma’s back. “I remember her saying that.”

He held up his hand as Mae dried it off. She wrapped a scrap of old fabric around his torn flesh as a makeshift bandage.

A muscle twitched in his jaw when she knotted it tightly. “Well, Ma’s gonna have to learn to live with it.”

And so would he.

“We’ll see.” Mae dropped the rag in the dingy water. “But Ma didn’t take too kindly to the news. It seems you’ve gotten yourself into more trouble than you’re used to, Gideon. I don’t know what’s gonna happen.”

Across the room, their ma dropped a spoonful of grits in front of
Billie and Sadie. Their bare feet were streaked with dirt and dangled just below the oversize chair they shared. Ruth’s hip knocked the table as she skirted the rough corner, finally lowering steaming bowls in front of John and Charlie, who stuffed food in their mouths as fast as they could scoop it.

Gideon nodded toward the food. “We better eat”—he watched as his ma brought the frying pan to the table and set it in front of her lanky sons—“before those two hogs get it all.”

“Well, that oughta hold it for now.” Mae fiddled with the loose end of Gideon’s bandage. “Just don’t go and do something as foolish as that next time.”

“I’ll try.”

Gideon sat at the end of the bench and speared himself a piece of fried rabbit. He thought of another supper taking place on the other side of the hill. He rubbed his sore wrist as his ma spooned grits onto the plate in front of him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, then took a hearty bite. He was too worn out to worry about anything else for the night.

D
roplets fell here and there, striking the muslin shawl on Lonnie’s shoulders. She wanted to pull it tighter, but it would have been no use. If only she had her coat. But brides didn’t wear coats. Or so her ma had mumbled as she had knotted the white fabric gently, her eyes awash with unshed tears.

The gray light dimmed, the landscape no more than a blur of fog and mist. Lonnie held tight to Addie’s hand as they made their way down the path. With baby Charlotte swaddled in a threadbare quilt, her ma and pa strode a holler ahead. Dressed in matching white shirts, Sid and Oliver trailed behind, their black ties slightly askew.

Lonnie stepped carefully in her polished boots. Clasping her gingham skirt, she held it away from the mud. She remembered her ma the day before—on her knees, pins stuck between her lips as she hurriedly lowered the sky-blue hem of Lonnie’s best dress. Lonnie stepped over a rock and skirted a small puddle. She’d walked this path every Sunday of her life. If only today weren’t so different.

Sure it’s worth the effort, Maggie?
Her pa’s words stung as much today as they had only hours ago. He’d circled her, his boots hollow and menacing on the wood floor as he eyed her. Lonnie had also studied
him, the air thick and silent between them. She waited for some flicker of emotion to show that his soul wasn’t as black as his burnished boots. Recalling the rumors that surrounded his past, she searched his face for a fragment of the truth. She held his gaze until he finally gave up and walked away. A surge of satisfaction had warmed her belly. She was almost out from under his grip.

Lonnie clutched the hem of her dress in one hand and held Addie’s small fingers in the other. She tried to focus on the path in front of her.
Lord, be my strength
. The day ahead seemed impossible, the months and years even more so.

Heads lifted and eyes probed as her family stepped into the churchyard. Familiar faces turned.

“Folk in these parts never miss a wedding,” her pa mumbled under his breath. He smoothed his hand across a freshly shaven jaw. “They could care less who was gettin’ hitched, long as they get a free meal and a drink of whiskey.”

Her eyes roved the churchyard that would have held tables and a spot for dancing had the wedding been planned. Wanted. With a flick of his head, her pa led the family closer to the church. He smoothed the damp strings of his hair, streaked with silver and still wet from a bath, and tucked them behind his ears.

A few familiar faces smiled and offered a friendly wave. Yet others, their mouths covered and eyes averted, whispered among themselves.

Her pa glanced over his shoulder and smirked.

Lonnie tilted up her chin. A few more hours and she would no longer be his. If it took a wedding to sever his hold on her, so be it. He glanced away from her pointed look and hooked a thumb into his belt. His grip on her was fading. Her freedom was so close.

No
. It was slipping away. Lonnie glanced around for signs of Gideon.

Her ma straightened Addie’s bonnet. “Doesn’t look like Gideon’s family is here yet …” Her voice trailed off.

Lonnie surveyed the faces, seeing no sign of the O’Rileys. Hope tickled her senses.
Might he not show?
She knew how his ma disliked her family. Had the woman poisoned Gideon’s mind against her? Hope budded inside her. If Gideon had indeed changed his mind, she would be free. The whispers continued. Some took no care to hide their heated opinions. Ignoring them, Lonnie flicked a piece of lint from her dress. If Gideon changed his mind, she would not become his wife today—but with her tainted reputation, she may never be anyone’s wife. Lonnie tipped her chin. That was just fine with her. She could live with Aunt Sarah, and they could spend their days on the porch making soap and laughing about the bright future ahead. Lonnie nearly smiled until her pa’s sour voice brought her from her thoughts. “I’d like to see that boy try and skip on outa here.” His jaw flexed.

“Would he do that?” Oliver stepped forward, tightening the circle. His slicked-back hair made him seem years older.

“I certainly hope not.” Her ma folded her arms and cast a worrisome glance in the direction of the O’Riley home.

Tiny raindrops fell, but not enough to drive them indoors. Her lanky brothers stood on each side of her, and Lonnie felt out of place in the freshly pressed gown and boots that shone.

Voices fell quiet. Conversations clipped to an end.

Tall, slender men walked silently into the churchyard. Mr. O’Riley led the way, flanked by his sons Charlie and John. Lonnie released Addie’s small fist and pressed her hands together to keep them from shaking. Gideon’s head bobbed behind his brothers’, his face grave. They
slowed their pace until the oldest O’Riley sons walked side by side. Each of them was the same height, a head taller than most men in town. But Gideon stood out as being broader than his younger brothers.

His hair was shorter, slicked back, and mostly straight until it reached the nape of his neck, where it curled around his ears. He looked like a soldier surrounded by his fellow men. Lonnie glanced up at the sky, wishing to see the face of the only One who loved her this day.
God, are You there?

“Lonnie!”

Turning, she spotted her aunt Sarah hurrying toward them. She wore her usual ginger bun and her best dress. A delicate lace shawl draped over her soft shoulders, and the black fringe danced against her arms as she nearly ran. She reached for Lonnie’s hand. Her skin was ice cold.

Sarah’s eyes glistened as she searched Lonnie’s. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

Lonnie couldn’t speak, so tight was her throat.

Her aunt’s grip tightened, knuckles white. “Know that I love you. Know that.” Her fervent whispers were spoken for Lonnie’s ears alone. “And God loves you. His eye is on the sparrow.” She pressed Lonnie’s hand to her lips as a single tear slipped down her cheek. “Oh, my sweet girl. His eye is on you this day.”

Lonnie nodded eagerly, clinging to the hope her aunt offered even as Sarah lowered her hand. Sniffing, her aunt looked up, and a shadow crossed her face.

“Good day, Bill,” Lonnie’s pa said, his words as crisp as the autumn morning.

“Fine day for a wedding.” Bill’s cheerful tone was a sharp contrast
to Joel’s sour mood. “Lonnie.” He nodded in admiration. “You look right pretty.”

She couldn’t make a smile form.

Her ma adjusted baby Charlotte in the crook of her arm and pulled Addie along. She called the rest of the children, leaving Lonnie outside with her pa. Lonnie watched as Gideon’s family passed and climbed the church steps. She didn’t bother smiling. It would have only come out as empty as she felt.