These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance (37 page)

            Gideon
didn’t know how to answer so he pretended he hadn’t heard. Of course Henry was
special. Henry was everything.

            “Well,
here ya go.” Bix pointed to a small shelf of slim books at the far end of the
range, near the wall. “Let me know if ya need anything else.”

            “I
will,” he said. “Oh, Bix? I almost forgot. I have tickets to New Orleans next
weekend that I can’t use. I can’t get a refund but I can transfer them to
someone else. Do you think you and Ruby could use them?”

            “Oh,
because of not being able to leave town? Maybe they’ll catch the guy before
then and you’ll be free to travel.”

            “Even
if they do, I changed my mind. I’d like you two to use them.”

            “Well,
that’s mighty nice of you.” Bix considered it for a moment. “For how long?”

            “It’s
just for the weekend, flying in on Saturday and out on Sunday. Maybe you could
take in some live bands and do a little dancing. I can drop you off and pick
you up at the airport here.”

            “Ruby
would be real pleased to take a trip like that. Her cousin Bonnie lives in New
Orleans and she’s always askin’ us to come on down there. It sure sounds like a
good time. We haven’t been out of town for ages, not since I stopped driving.
I’ll go call her up and see what she thinks.”

            Gideon
smiled as Bix started to whistle a familiar tune and shuffle-stepped his way
back down the aisle, the kitty on his shoulder swaying from the movement.

              
Now that the tickets were out of his hands, he let
out a sigh of relief. He’d seen Henry only a few times since that day in his
living room, and he’d felt so guilty he could hardly look her in the eyes.
She’d watched his face, and he was unbearably aware that if he spoke one wrong
word, she would know everything. He was technically innocent of Sandoz’s murder
but he’d been willing to commit another. Exhaustion, shock, losing his job, flashbacks
of prison and the murder of his family had all combined into one really bad
decision, but Tom had been there to break his fall. Giving those tickets to Bix
and Ruby might redeem a little of that dark moment of weakness and temptation. They
could take it and turn it into a beautiful memory.

            He
turned back to the shelf and took a moment to appreciate what a collection
Alice had arranged. In some bookstores there were multiple copies, dog-eared
paperbacks next to hardbound library editions or a few modern editions next one
or two tattered, turn of the century books. In By the Book, it seemed every
volume had been chosen for its appearance as well as content. Shining gold leaf
gleamed against warm leather spines and the books were nestled gently together,
not crammed in so tightly that a careless customer could damage them trying to
take it from the shelf.

            Reaching
out, he slipped a Teasdale collection from its place and opened it.
Sara
Trevor Teasdale was born on August 8, 1884.
Gideon smiled at her middle
name, thinking of Henry. He flipped forward, opening the page at random, to a
poem titled The Wanderer.
I saw the sunset-colored sands, The Nile, like
flowing fire between.
He hadn’t left Louisiana more than a few times but
he’d never really felt at home here, either.
And many skies have covered me,
and many winds have blown me forth, and I have loved the green, bright north, and
I have loved the cold, sweet sea.

            He
stopped to think on that, wondering if he’d ever loved any place at all. His
little farmhouse had been a sanctuary, but it seemed tainted now. He loved the
river, but maybe only for the fact Tom was usually with him.
But what to me
are north and south, and what the lire of many lands, since you have learned to
catch my hands and lay a kiss upon my mouth.
Gideon was hit by a powerful
memory of Henry catching his hands in hers, pressing a kiss to his mouth. The
image was so strong, he could almost feel the warmth of her lips and smell her
shampoo.

            Every
moment they weren’t together, he missed her presence. The day she asked him to
fight for his innocence, she’d taken his hand and spoken her truth as plainly
as she could. She needed him, and he would never forget it. He wasn’t sure how
they’d work their way back to where they’d been before the fire, but he was
patient.

            “Fancy
meeting you here.”

             He
turned, wondering if the power of the poem and his own memory had somehow
conjured her up, like a dream. Henry stood there, hair loose around her
shoulders, a hand on her hip. The pale blue of her top made her eyes seem very
green, even from where he stood. Her tone was all sass, but the nervous way she
fiddled with her watch strap was the real Henry.

            “I
heard all the smartest girls hang out in the poetry section so I thought I’d see
who turned up.”

              
She raised an eyebrow and walked toward him. “You’re looking for a girl?”

            “Only
one,” he said. If Tom were here, he’d be groaning at the awkward flirting but
it was the best Gideon could do.

             “You
do have my phone number.”

            He
wanted to slip an arm around her waist and bring her close. He would press a
kiss into her hair and let himself savor the feel of her, all soft curves to
his angles, fitting perfectly to him as if made to be there. Instead, he said, “You’ve
started me on a Sara Teasdale binge. I like this one called The Wanderer.” He
read it for her slowly, letting the last few lines linger in the air between
them.

            “I
don’t think I really understood that poem until now,” she said and everything
she felt for him was there in her eyes.

            “It’s
sort of perfect, isn’t it?”

            “It
is. Everything is,” she said. Then she held up a finger. “All that’s left is
for you to be cleared to go back to the archives, and find a good place to work
on what’s left of the Cane River collection. Your database has been on hold for
a week or two but no more. We’ve got to get back to sorting and scanning, and
then
life will be perfect.”

            Gideon
smiled. There were so many other things Henry could have listed. She truly
loved Cane River history as much as he did.  “Well, prepare for perfection
because Peter Breaux said we could use his empty office space. He’s been trying
to rent it out but didn’t have any luck. I can’t keep the boxes at the archives
any longer…” His voice trailed off. He didn’t know if he’d ever get to return
as director. “Anyway, it’s only a block from here, and it’s small, but there’s
enough room for a table, the scanner, and the two of us. I wish we had someplace
more comfortable but―”

             “We
were working in a moldy basement without electricity and it was just fine. It
was more than fine.”

            Her
gaze flicked down to his mouth and he wanted to answer her with a kiss, but the
sound of Bix whistling nearby reminded him where they were, and the tickets
he’d given away. He hesitated and a moment later, the opportunity was gone.

            “Is
everything okay?” Her tone was suddenly wary.

            “Sure.
Everything is fine.”

            Her
eyes widened just a bit and he wondered what he sounded like to Henry, how ugly
the lie looked to her.

            “It’s
been a tough week for you,” she said.

            “Right.
A lot to take in.” He had the oddest feeling that she was hoping to draw the
truth out of him and for the first time, he felt panic in the face of her
ability. Her gaze was so steady, as if every detail, every flicker of emotion
was being filed away and analyzed. He stared right back, forcing the tickets
into the back of his mind. None of that mattered now. They’d once agreed, right
in this very store, almost in this very spot, that not every secret had to be
shared. After a moment she looked away and he let out a breath.

            “Yet
this alone out of my life I kept unto myself,” he said.

            “Bluebeard
again?”

            “Sorry,
yes.” He closed the book. “Wrong poet, different topic.”

            She
was quiet for a moment, tracing the spines of the books with one finger.
“You’re welcome to come into that place I’ve kept to myself, if you want. There’s
not much there. Some bad memories, a few crazy fears.”

            He
knew what she was offering him, and how much it cost her to say it. “Is there
anything in there about why you stopped answering my calls?”

             “I
don’t know if this is the time to―”

            “No,
no, of course. Some other day. I was just curious.”

            But
then she seemed to change her mind and turned to face him, shoulders back,
anxiety in every line of her body. “That day, when you went into the fire...”

            “You
were angry because you didn’t want me to get hurt.” That was Tom’s explanation.

            “Yes.
Well, no,” she said. “Not quite. It’s… hard to explain.” She searched the
titles on the shelves, as if there was an answer there somewhere. “I felt like
if you really cared for me, you wouldn’t put yourself in danger.”

            He
frowned, struggling to find the subtle difference between the two.

            “I
took it personally.”

            Not
everybody loved a hero. Some people didn’t want to be the ones waiting at home,
hoping their loved one would return. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

            “Right.
I was worried, but it was more. The truth is that…” Her voice trembled on the
last word but she looked up, determination written on her face. “You didn’t
know it, so I can’t blame you, but the truth is that you carried my heart with
you.”

            He
couldn’t think of a single word to say. He wanted to rewind the moment listen
to her words again, memorize the look in her eyes, wanted tuck the truth of it
deep inside where all his fears lived. He was standing there, lies on his lips
and she was handing him her heart. He didn’t deserve her. He never had.

            “You
did that day, and you still do.” She lifted his hand and kissed his palm. “Now
that I’ve told you, I have to ask you to do something for me.”

            “Anything.”
She could ask for the moon. He would go any distance, fight any enemy, even
sacrifice himself if that’s what she needed.

            “You
have to take care of this man.” She reached out and put her hand on his chest. “You
can’t put him in danger. You can’t be careless with his life. Or his freedom.”

            Her
last word echoed in his ears and guilt flashed through him. For one moment, he
considered confessing everything: his plan to murder Duane Banner, how Tom had
convinced him to wait, the slow realization that he’d been so very wrong.

            “I
will.”

            “Thank
you,” she whispered. She stepped toward him and he opened his arms in time for
her to relax against him, her ear somewhere over his heart.

            Wrapping
his arms around her, he kissed the top of her head, wonder filling him. He
wanted to tell her that he loved her more than life itself but all he could do
was hold her close, as if shielding her from the world. The words gathered in
his throat but he kept them in. Right now, life was perfect,
balanced
on an invisible knife’s edge. He couldn’t do anything to risk losing her again.

You may choose to look the other
way,

but you can never say again that
you did not know.

―William Wilberforce

            “Hey,
you two. Break it up. I don’t wanna have to call your folks,” Bix called as he passed
the aisle.

            Henry
laughed into the front of Gideon’s shirt. “He’s bluffing. Ignore him.”

            “I’m
not so sure. I think we should heed the warning.”

            “Or
at least move ourselves somewhere more private,” she said. A moment later her
face went hot. “That sounded― I didn’t mean―”

            “Is
that an invitation?” His voice dropped an octave. “Excellent. I’ve never seen
your apartment.”

            She
swatted his arm. “Get away with you,” she said. “You’ll see it soon enough when
you teach me how to cook jambalaya.”

            “I
don’t even get a preview of the kitchen?” he asked and lowered his head to
nuzzle her ear.

            His
stubble tickled the sensitive skin near her jaw and she cleared her throat.
“For a guy who claims not to have any experience with women, you’re mighty
forward.”

            “I
mean it,” Bix called as he passed by again. “I’m fixin’ to find Frank and
Birdie’s number in the book.”

             “I
sure don’t want your
mamere
down here after me.”

            She
couldn’t help a little sigh as he moved away. When he was close to her she felt
whole, complete. She didn’t even fight it anymore. She’d conquered the fear
that kept her from opening her heart to him.  “I only came to bother you
because as I was heading out the back door, I saw Alice outside and she told me
you were in here. I’m headed back to Oakland for an evening tour.”

            “You
don’t usually give tours so late, do you?” There was a little frown line
between his brows.

            “No,
but it’s a motorcycle group who scheduled the tour a few weeks ago. They’re
visiting all the major historical sites along Red River. They called this
afternoon and said they’d be late and asked whether we should schedule it for
tomorrow.” Henry shrugged. “Tomorrow didn’t work so I told them to let me know
when they arrived.”

            “Motorcycle
group?” He didn’t seem to have heard anything else.

            “Not
what you’re thinking. Less Hell’s Angels, and more retired folks seeing the
country.” Henry couldn’t help smiling a little at his expression. He was so
protective. She’d never had anyone worry about her before.

            “Will
there be anyone else there? You shouldn’t go alone.” His expression was deadly
serious.

             “You’re
adorable, but I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself.”

            He
looked like he was going to argue, but a sound far above caught their attention
and they both looked up at the large black cat perched on the top of the range.

            “They
say he’s really friendly,” Henry said. “But there must be a reason they called
him Mr. Darcy.”

            “I
don’t think he appreciates us in his bookstore.” He shot one more glance at the
cat and turned back to Henry. “I’ll stay out of the way. No one will even know
I’m there.”

            She
forced back a laugh. Of all the many things Gideon could be, unobtrusive was
not one of them. She imagined him skulking in the corner would make it worse
than actually speaking to the visitors. “It’ll be fine. Father Tom is just a
few miles away.”

            “If
he’s home. He’s not always at the parish house.” Gideon looked like he was
making up his mind to come along.

            She
hesitated, not wanting to bring it up, but then reminded herself that she
didn’t have any secrets from Gideon. “I talked to them on the phone and I know
he was telling the truth. Harmless retirees running behind schedule.”

            She
could see the tension drain away. “That’s right. I forgot your…”

            “Special
skill?” Their fingers were linked together and she looked down at their hands. She
hadn’t wanted to bring it up. He’d lied to her just a few minutes ago. She
could have forced the issue but she didn’t. He was clearly struggling and as
much as she wished he would confide in her, she understood why he didn’t. Everyone
deserved a little privacy. She couldn’t expect him to share every fear and
worry.

            “I’ve
missed you,” he said, as if he knew what she was thinking. “This week seemed
like a hundred years. I miss working with you. I miss having you pop into my
office.”

            She
shot him a look, remembering the last time she’d visited his office, but he was
somber, almost sad. “Me, too. I would like nothing better than to have you next
to me every free minute of every day,” she said softly. “But I guess real life
means we only get to see each other here and there.”

            “Maybe
we should fix that,” he said.

           
Truth.

            She
felt her mouth drop open as his meaning sunk in to her heart. He looked a
little startled but he didn’t take the words back. He held her gaze and lifted
one shoulder in a “what can I say?” sort of shrug.

            “Maybe
so,” she said, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “And I really need to go. I’ll
call you when I’m done with the tour so you know everything went okay.”

            She
gave him a quick kiss and turned, making her way back down the aisle on unsteady
legs. She nearly ran over a fluffy gray cat passing through the foyer and she
thought Bix might have called out a farewell, but she couldn’t be sure. Her
head was buzzing with a hundred different thoughts, and her heart was bursting
with excitement and happiness. Everything was a blur. Of all the things she
thought would happen today, a spur of the moment proposal by Gideon was not one
of them.

            Pushing
the door and stepping into the fall sunshine, Henry couldn’t keep the smile
from spreading over her face. When she moved to Natchitoches, she was resolved
to always being alone. She’d had one friend, no real family, and a good day was
when she didn’t have to talk to anyone at all. Turning the corner to where her
car was parked, Henry breathed in the fresh autumn air. So much had changed in
so little time.  

            She
paused as she reached the car, looking up into the bright, cloudless sky.
Everything she’d known had been flipped upside down. Her whole life she’d been
hiding her secrets and scars, sure that was the only way she could be safe.

            And
then she’d met Gideon. He’d listened to what she didn’t say, listened to her
silence in a way no one else had. She hadn’t realized how tired she was
carrying around that shame and sorrow. She never could have guessed that
another person would offer the only safe place she could lay it all down.

            She
knew Gideon had meant what he’d said back in the bookstore. Of course he hadn’t
planned to say it, and of course it wasn’t the right time, but he was sincere. She
heard the subtext of his words, and she knew what her answer would be, when the
time came to give one.

           
Yes.

                                                                        ***

            Gideon
paced his living room.  Maybe it was because he’d been away from work for a
whole week. Maybe it was the fact that Duane Banner was only a few days from
his release and the police still hadn’t confirmed that they were protecting the
man who testified against him. Maybe it was because his home, the place he’d
always felt at peace, seemed irreparably changed by Sandoz’s death. Whatever it
was, he couldn’t take one more minute of watching the clock.

            Henry
said she’d call when she was done and it was almost eight. She’d probably
forgotten. He held the phone in his hand, debating whether his peace of mind
was worth the possibility of interrupting her tour. He couldn’t bring himself
to do it and put it back in his pocket. Trying to stretch the tight muscles in
his shoulders, he reminded himself that his anxiety was simply a byproduct of
his own fears. It had nothing to do with Henry.

            He
settled on the couch and tried to read, but his mind flashed back to the man in
the gas station. When he reported the threat, the police matched the
description to Leroy Riggins, and now the face in Gideon’s nightmares had a
name. Of course, by the time they went to investigate, Riggins was long gone,
almost as if he’d never been there at all.

            Gideon
held the book tighter, read a few lines and tried to force away the feeling of
impending doom. There were so many unknowns, so many loose ends. He’d spent the
last week swinging between wanting to give Henry every detail he had, and
wanting to keep her safe. In the end, he’d shared everything with the police,
and said nothing to Henry. The less she knew, the better.

            The
next moment he dropped the book and stood up. He’d go lift for a while, burn
off nervous energy. Walking out into the small garage, he slipped weights onto
the bar and settled onto the bench. After a few minutes, his body picked up the
rhythm. Pushing the bar above his head and slowly lowering it to his chest, he
paced his breathing. Years of practice took over and he let his mind relax, not
bothering to count his sets. In prison he’d had to wait for rec time, then wait
for his turn at the bench. Every aspect of his life had been structured.

            His
muscles started to burn. When he’d been released, keeping to a schedule had
kept him sane. He built a life that mirrored his time in prison. Classes and
writing turned into his day at the archives. Mealtimes were eaten at the same
time. He lifted in the mornings and ran in the evenings. Talks with Tom
happened a few times a week, just like phone calls in prison.

            Gideon
rested the bar on the pegs and lay there, staring at the garage ceiling. Now
that everything was stripped away, he could see that his life in Natchitoches
was simply another version of Angola. In a way, he had never left prison. He
was still living out a life sentence.

***

            Henry
locked the front door of Oakland Plantation and hurried down the front porch.
The traveling motorcycle group had been the most entertaining tour she’d given
in a long time, but it was hours past when she’d expected to be finished. Two
of the members of the group had turned out to be archeologists and so she’d
taken extra time to open the outbuildings. They’d all been impressed with the
restoration work and the antebellum artifacts. It was thrilling to share Vonda
and Joe’s discoveries, but she wished she had eaten dinner before the tour.
Lunch seemed ages ago.

            The
soft breeze carried the scent of the river and the sun had already set, leaving
the plantation in a gentle twilight. As she reached her car, Henry pulled out
her phone. Gideon was probably wondering if she’d forgotten her promise to
check in. She smiled at the memory of his offer to sit in a corner while she
gave the tour. As much as she loved being an independent woman, knowing that someone
would know if she came home late― or not at all― filled her with
the sweetest sort of anticipation. This is what it felt like to be wanted, to
be loved.

            She
thought of their conversation in the bookstore and had to smile. Even though
she still didn’t feel she could simply walk up to Gideon and give him a kiss,
she was absolutely sure he loved her. She’d always wondered what it would be
like to belong to someone, to be the one person treasured above all others. Now
she knew, and it was miraculous.

            Her
phone rang in her hand and the moment after she accepeded the call, she later
realized the screen hadn’t shown Gideon’s name, but Kimberly’s.

            “Hi,”
she said, already turning toward her car.

            “How’s
my girl?” Her mother sounded like she always did when she called from
California: louder, brighter, more confident.

            “Good.
Everything is good.” Henry had no idea where to start with the last week.

            “I’m
headed home in a few weeks and wanted to see if you had a little free time.
Maybe we could go to breakfast.”

            Henry
was momentarily speechless. Her mother never gave her advance notice of a
visit, and certainly never checked to see if Henry had other plans. “That would
be nice. I’d like that.”

            “Great!”
She sounded relieved. “I’ll call you when I get in and we can see what time is
best.”

            “Okay,”
Henry said. She felt as if she should say something else, ask about her week or
how the filming was going but in the end she just waited.

            “See
you soon, Lorelei.” And she disconnected.

            Henry
sat for a moment with the phone in her hand. Kimberly always ended her calls
with “love ya, sweetie!” but not tonight. It had been different tonight, as if
they had just met and were getting to know each other. For the first time, she
found herself actually looking forward to seeing Kimberly.