Though My Heart Is Torn: The Cadence of Grace, Book 2 (33 page)

By the time Gideon lugged the washtub into the bedroom, she had poured water into several more pots and set them to heat. Before long, the tub was full and steaming. Gideon left and shut the door behind him.

Stripping herself of her cold clothes, Cassie shivered as she sank into the tub at the foot of the bed. The water warmed her toes and fingers, and she sighed. When she tugged the ribbon from her hair, the brown kinks fell around her shoulders, and before the tips could hit the water, she caught hold of the mass of hair and twisted it into a low bun, securing it by looping it through itself.

Gideon called to her. “How ya doin’?”

She stared at the closed door. She should tell him the truth. She was frightened. Sinking as low into the water as the cramped tub allowed, she stuck her chin beneath the warm water. She knew Gideon was waiting for a response.

“Cassie?”

“Yes,” she called at last. “I’m just fine.”

Something wasn’t right. Sinking to the floor, Gideon sat and pressed the back of his head against the door and listened to the muffled sound of churning water and the soft drips and drizzles that sang out like tiny chimes whenever Cassie moved. She wasn’t herself—and he knew the reason.

He was hurting her.

She knew the truth. Surely she saw it in his face when he looked at her, heard it in his voice when he spoke. He’d finally gone to visit his family. Never once had he considered bringing Cassie with him. Cassie knew the truth as much as he did.

He did not love her.

Gideon banged the back of his head against the door, inflicting a small amount of pain. He was miserable. And he made her miserable with him. Gideon groaned. He was trapped. He had no choice. The chains that held him here were invisible yet unbreakable.
What chains?
Gideon silently scoffed when he made himself sound like the victim. This was the life he had chosen when he’d married Cassie before Lonnie. This was his sentence. He cringed at the callous word that should never be used to describe a marriage. No wonder Cassie was miserable. No woman deserved to be that to her husband.

Gideon rubbed his finger and thumb together as the thoughts built on one another. Was it in him to change? His fingers stilled. He could try—he could pretend. Gideon swallowed. He knew what that would entail, and he didn’t know if he had it in him to fool Cassie that way.

He banged his head again, this time inflicting as much pain as he could muster.

“Gideon?” Cassie called, her voice hesitant. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, sorry.” He stood.

Water trickled from behind the door. Pressing his forehead to the wood, Gideon closed his eyes and wondered if he had the courage to move forward with this.

After her news poured forth, Mary fell silent. Gideon struggled for a coherent response. Three facts moved around in his mind. The first—there was talk of scarlet fever in the Cole cabin. The second—Cassie had been in their home a week ago.

Gideon ran his hands into his hair, tugging at the strands.

And the third—Caroline Cole had died in the night.

“I wonder why Cassie didn’t tell me she’d been there.” He breathed out the words as best he could.

Mary shook her head, then lifted her face to the horizon and the setting sun. Although the day was nearly done, a cock crowed. The familiar cry sounded melancholy as it echoed through the evening air, finally fading into silence.

Elbows on knees, Gideon folded his hands together. “I wish I’d have known. She may be frightened.”

Sitting on the back steps of her house, Mary stuck her shoes together and tapped her worn heels repeatedly.

Gideon’s mouth felt strangely dry. “Do you think she has a… reason to be frightened?” He pressed his palms against the porch step. When Mary hesitated, Gideon’s grip tightened, and the coarse wood scraped his fingertips.

“I hope not.” Her shawl slid from her shoulders, and she made no move to retrieve it. “They say scarlet fever occurs more often in children.” Hugging herself, she stared into the distance before finally facing him.

“And Caroline was younger than Cassie, right?”

“Not by much.” She said it as a sigh.

Gideon saw a mother’s love traced inside the thin lines of her aging face. He ran a hand down his face and struggled to put his frustration into words.

“Surely she couldn’t catch the fever so quickly. You said she was in there but a minute.”

A shadow crossed Mary’s features, and she did not respond. Needing answers, Gideon stared at his mother-in-law. Lifting her hands to her face, Mary cupped them over her mouth and closed her eyes.

His heart felt as heavy as a stone.
Please answer me
.

Mary turned to him, her mouth drawn in a thin line. Her eyes searched his as if hunting for answers of her own. Gideon wondered what question she could have for him. Then, when it struck him, he turned away, unable to watch the pain in Mary’s features. He could not give them what they wanted.

For in the deep blue eyes, he’d seen more than a mother’s pain. He saw a mother’s heart for her daughter’s happiness. Her hope for something greater.

Cassie stared out the window and watched Gideon cross the yard toward her. His gait was slow. His head hung down. Cassie moistened her lips.
She touched the pane and wished for more than cold glass beneath her fingertips. When Gideon covered his face with his hand and smeared fingers over his eyes, her heart plummeted.

He missed his son. He missed Lonnie.

Like a bad dream that would not free her, she knew it to be true. The possibility of waking from the trance they were in felt slimmer than ever before. Then Cassie tipped her chin up, clinging to the tattered frays of wisdom she’d gained from her mother, wishing with all her might that she’d been smarter, more apt to listen with a humble heart. Cassie searched within for all she knew to be true. Truths she’d pressed down for far too long. Wasn’t the sun’s warm promise on the horizon? Perhaps someday—though it may be a long way off—they would each find joy.

Stepping from the window, she lumbered toward the bedroom. Her body was weary. Supper still needed to be started, but she needed to stoke the fire first. The bedroom circled her in darkness. The gray shadows that had grown long across the floor had finally chased away any last traces of sunlight, engulfing the room in evening’s cool cover.

Her cheeks tingled, and Cassie pressed her palms there. She licked her lips again, the flesh warm.
Please, God. Don’t let it be
.

Gideon scanned the front room, but she was nowhere in sight. With the bedroom door cracked open, he slipped in as quietly as possible and halted. Cassie’s hair was pulled off to one side. Her cheeks were flushed and rosy. The dress she was unbuttoning draped over her small shoulders in a silhouette of blue and white.

His breathing slowed, and Gideon struggled to speak. “How ya doing?”

She shrugged. “Fine, why?” Her dress fell to the floor, and she kicked it aside into a muddled heap beneath the dresser.

Gideon stared at her. “No reason.”

Sinking onto the bed, Cassie sighed and let her head hang forward. The sharp curve of her slender neck arched gracefully, and she closed her eyes. After rubbing her hands together, she stared at her palms. “With all this cold weather, my skin is so chapped.” Her voice was muffled against her chest.

Gideon eyed his own rough palms. “Mine too.”

She lifted her head long enough to point toward the dresser. “There’s a can of salve in that drawer. Would you fetch it for me?”

His movements were slow as Gideon slid the drawer open. He pushed aside a hairbrush and comb and found the jar in the back.

As he stepped toward the bed, the wide eyes peering up at him were rimmed in red. Knowing of nothing else to say, Gideon touched his chin to his chest and stared at the jar. “Here.” He sank down beside her and lifted her hand onto his knee. She tried to pull away, but he held her wrist. “Please.”

Her face softened even as he allowed his gaze to trace the smooth forms. He dipped his finger in the thick salve and set the jar aside. Holding Cassie’s hand in his, he smeared the cool balm over skin that radiated heat.

As he worked the ointment in, it seemed every nerve in his hands was wide awake. His shoulder moved against hers. The subtle sound all that broke the silence. It had been so long since he had touched her. since he had touched any woman.

Gideon fought back the image of Lonnie’s pretty face.

As much as he wanted to linger on the memory of her, it would
only make what he was about to do that much harder. He looked down at Cassie’s round face and swallowed the bitter truth—it was
her
, and her alone, who would fill his future. She was his wife now, no matter how many ways he wished it weren’t so.

His hand worked in slow circles over Cassie’s. Lowering it to her lap, he reached for the other, his movements gentle—asking. He dipped his finger in the jar, and the warmth of her skin melted the salve, making it easy to smooth in. “Does that seem to be helping?” he whispered. Tense apprehension made his voice come out weaker than he had planned.

She nodded slowly.

Gideon squinted down at her and sent up a quick prayer. He wasn’t much of a praying man these days, but he didn’t know how else to get the strength he needed. Finished, he did not lower Cassie’s hand as he had the other.

He lifted it toward him.

He kept his gaze glued to her face and watched her eyes widen as he slowly lifted the inside of her wrist to his lips. He paused briefly, as he waited for the last reservations of his mind to numb over. Then, closing his eyes, he kissed the silken skin softly, letting his lips linger longer than he wanted. His head felt hot but not with desire.
Forgive me, Lonnie
. Leaning toward Cassie, he pushed her hair away from her face and then gently kissed the base of her neck.

Cassie let out a soft sound. Gideon couldn’t name it, but he knew what he was doing to her, and he felt instantly ashamed. He could stop now and spare them both the heartache this would cause. But then Cassie pressed her forehead to his chest and sighed. Taken aback, Gideon found himself unable to move.

He watched her shoulders slowly rise and fall as she breathed. Finally, she turned her head from side to side. “You don’t mean this.” Her voice muffled against his chest.