Though My Heart Is Torn: The Cadence of Grace, Book 2 Read Online Free PDF Page A

lifted a finger to her sly smile.
    Without ceremony, she passed Gideon his letter and broke the seal on her own. “We’ll read our own first, then we can switch.” She nearly buried her nose in the page.
    Gideon ripped the end off the envelope, all but tearing his letter. He shook the envelope, and a handful of pages fell free. Lonnie peeked over his hand and saw his ma’s writing.
    She turned back to her own letter, but when Gideon paused andheld his pages out, sliding a callused finger next to a word, Lonnie read it for him.
“Hopefully.”
    “Thank you.” Gideon continued reading but within a few heartbeats held his letter out again.
    Lonnie scrunched up her nose and stared at the crooked scrawl.
“Difficult.”
    “Difficult,” Gideon repeated, then kissed her shoulder. More than once, either he or Lonnie laughed only to be quieted by the other. One by one, pages fell like autumn leaves to the floor.
    “And this one?” Gideon pointed to another line.
    “Certain,”
Lonnie read for him. She pressed her thumb to her lips.
    “What’s the matter?”
    She set down the last page. “I miss them. My ma. My brothers and sisters. They’re all growing up. And this is all I have of them.” She folded the paper. “It’s over so soon.”
    “Yes, but”—Gideon reached over and tapped a rain-stained envelope—“you have another.”
    “I do.” She accepted the wrinkled envelope. The dry, discolored paper crinkled between her fingertips. The light flickered, the room so quiet she could hear the sizzle of the oil lamp. Slowly, Lonnie unfolded the paper. She felt Gideon, his own letter discarded, watching her scan the one and only page. Scratchy, uneven writing rambled along the top of the yellowed paper. Lonnie’s eyebrows pulled together, and her lips sped along silently. She sat up; her hand flew to her mouth.
    The bed creaked when Gideon sat up. “What is it?”
    She thrust the letter into his hand. “It’s from my pa. I’ve never seen him write a letter a day in his life.”
    Gideon skimmed the words.
    “It’s Ma.” Shifting to the side, Lonnie gripped the quilt. “She’s ill. Who knows how old this is?” She flipped the letter over as if the answer were written on the back. “He doesn’t even say what’s wrong with her. It could already be too late.”
    Despite everything that had happened over the years—the hurt and the heartache—Lonnie’s heart flooded with grief and sorrow for her ma.
    Lonnie took the letter. “He said she doesn’t have much time. What could that mean?” She rose, her mind and heart racing as one. She saw her ma, standing at the stove, red hair coiled into a wiry bun. The same way she’d always been—sad eyes, hopeful words. A woman never fully loved. Lonnie’s heart broke anew for her mother even as she thought of her siblings all but fending for themselves. “He said that I should come as soon as I can.” The words shook on her lips.
    Lonnie handed Gideon the letter again, eager to be rid of it. It took him a minute to read it. He set it on the faded quilt. Her pa’s misspelled words leaped off the paper:
Your ma ain’t got much time. I feer the worst. Better get yourself home. Don’t doddle, Lonnie. She’s in a bad way
.
    “It may already be too late.”
    “We’ll leave as soon as we can.” Gideon squeezed her arm.
    She stood motionless, the weight of it all crashing about her shoulders. Gideon knelt, pulled the dusty pack from beneath the bed, and lifted it onto the heap of rumpled bedding.
    “Lonnie.” Her name on his lips pulled her back. “We’ll leave at first light. You start packing our things; I’ll go ask Jeb if we can take the mule.”
    “Thank you, Gideon.”
    He clutched her face in his hands and kissed the top of her head before striding from the room.

Sugar stood stone still and blinked in the early morning light while Gideon added the last pack to her burden. He moved around to the other side of the beast, his boots scraping across