These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance (12 page)

            “You
have,” Tom corrected.

            “Funny.
But there’s something about him that’s so familiar. Listening to him just
brings everything back.”

            “You’ve
already confessed everything. Don’t go back to it. You’d don’t carry the guilt
for that crime anymore.”

            “You’re
right. But I’m not thinking about the murder.” He watched a car pass by and
when the lights had faded, he said, “I’ve been thinking about when I planned
everything, about how I lied so easily and laughed at the dinner table and
pretended I was who they thought I was.”

             “I
was just as guilty. I knew what you were doing and I approved. I wished there
was someone I could have taken revenge on. If I could have, I would have joined
you.”

            “We
were a pair of con artists, lying through our teeth. We accepted their shelter
and food and love, while plotting something that would break their hearts.”

            Tom’s
eyes reflected the street lamps. “We didn’t know how much it would hurt them,
all of them, until you were gone.”

            Gideon
felt sick. Tom knew better than to mention Austin but he knew his foster
brother must have been crushed. “I ruined that family.”

            Tom
turned to look at him. “Vince and Sally’s family? No, you didn’t,” he said. “I
won’t lie and say it was good, but it made them stronger.” He turned back to
watching the sky. “And it made me finally take a good look at myself. I went to
church with them every Sunday, walked up the aisle for communion like getting
on the school bus. I’d never thought any of it was real, that it mattered.
Years of motions and words and agreeing to something I didn’t even believe in.
But I didn’t know that. I’d never bothered to look that closely at any of it.”

            “I
did believe it. I always have. But I chose to walk away.”

            “And
come back,” Tom reminded him.

            “And
come back.” It had taken almost a decade, but he had, trusting there was still
a place for someone like him.

            They
sat in silence for a while.

            “This
thing you’re doing now―” Tom started.

            “I
don’t want to talk about it.” Gideon hated the abruptness in his tone.

            “You
mean you don’t want to talk about
her
. Which I won’t.”

            “Okay.”

            “Anyway,
sitting here makes me think of a poem called a Prayer for This House. Have you
ever read it?” Tom asked.

            Gideon
shook his head. “Doesn’t sound familiar.”

            “Probably
not, since it’s cheerful and doesn’t involve much moping. I know how you love
your sad poets.” Tom said. “So, it starts out with ‘may nothing evil cross this
door’ and mentions each part of the house and what the poet wanted for the
people inside. I don’t remember it all except it mentions laughter and peace, but
it ends ‘though the sheltering walls are thin, may they be strong to keep hate
out and hold love in’. And you sitting here keeping watch on her house feels a
little bit like that prayer.”

            He
wanted that, to be someone who kept hate out and held love in. Even if it meant
that Henry’s love was for Blue Chalfant, or someone else, but he wanted Henry
to be happy.

            Tom
went on, “I guess what I’m trying to say is that when you were fifteen you
could have memorized that prayer and recited it to anyone, but you never would
have thought to sit here in the dark so that a person you barely knew was safe.”

            The
early morning sun touching everything with a pinkish-peach hue
and
as Tom turned to look at Gideon, his face was half in shadow. “You’re not the
man you were then. Don’t look back unless it’s to see how far you’ve come from
that place. How far we’ve both come.”

            Gideon
nodded. A light breeze blew toward them off the river, smelling like late
summer and early mornings. The river used to terrify him. Even the sound of the
water or a glimpse of the brown eddies and currents would send him into a panic
attack.

            He
folded his arms over his chest and watched the light touch the cast iron
ornamentation on the upper floor of By the Book. When Gideon first met Vince,
his foster father asked him if he’d like to go fishing and Gideon had turned so
pale they made him rest in a darkened room. Sally had brought him a glass of
cold lemonade and held his hand until he’d felt well enough to come out again.
But Vince hadn’t given up. He’d known that unless Gideon avoided water the rest
of his life, he had to face his fears and confront the nightmare he’d lived
through when he was five.

            He
closed his eyes for a moment and the sound of the river magnified. He’d tried
to save her that night, when the men had thrown them out into the blackness,
the way you throw stones in the creek. He’d heard her crying and somehow found
her again in the dark. He’d had only just learned to dog paddle and she was
heavy, so heavy, even though she was just a baby. It had been dark and cold,
and once he’d let her go, he didn’t see her until the sun rose. He huddled in
the roots of an old cypress tree, shaking with fear and shock. The sky
lightened a little at a time and he wasn’t sure what he was seeing at first.
The splash of color grew pinker as the sun rose until he knew it was Katie Rose
there in the weeds
,
on the other side of the river. He
watched her all morning but she never moved, and when the fisherman found him
that afternoon, he asked if they had a blanket to wrap her in so she wouldn’t
be cold.

            He
rubbed his face and was startled for a moment when he didn’t feel the beard
under his fingertips. “Did you ever ask Bix if he wanted to go fishing?” Gideon
asked.

            “I
did,” Tom said. He looked like he was either falling asleep or surfacing from
his own long-ago memories. “He says Ruby doesn’t want to miss a single band at
the festival this weekend, but any time after Sunday is fine.”

            “Good.”
Gideon stood up and stretched, feeling the muscles in his back protest from the
long hours on the hard bench. “I need some time on the river, away from
everything.”

             Tom
followed his cue and stood up, looking toward By the Book. “Well, this has been
fun.”

            Gideon
snorted. “What does that say about our lives?”

            He
gave him a soft punch to the shoulder. “It says you’re good company. Now, go
get a few hours of sleep.”

            “You,
too,” Gideon said.

            They
turned and walked away from each other, the sunlight growing stronger by the
minute, the city waking from its sleep. As Gideon made his way back down the
sidewalk, shopkeepers were setting out signs and he could smell fresh coffee
and beignets from the bakery. A young woman talking on her cellphone came
toward him pushing a stroller with one hand. He avoided kids, especially the
little ones. It’s not that he didn’t like them. Not at all. Gideon focused on
the place far ahead where the sidewalk curved. He could hear the baby’s high
voice above the sound of the cars passing and the other pedestrians. As usual,
his heart started to pound and he could feel a light sheen of sweat on his
skin. It always happened that way. Babies, toddlers, kids. No matter what he
told himself, his body interpreted it as a crisis.

            He
kept his eyes on the horizon, breathing deeply, working to stay calm.  In the
end, for a reason he didn’t understand, he looked down just as they came near.

            The
baby’s pigtails were tied with pink ribbons that matched her outfit and she pointed
out toward the water. “River, river!” Her dark eyes were filled with
excitement. Her mother, struggling to push the stroller with one hand and hold
a coffee cup in the other, was deep in conversation and didn’t answer

             “River,”
he answered. She smiled wide, and the next moment she was gone.

            The
rest of the block, Gideon replayed the baby’s bright expression in his memory.
Nothing could change what happened to Katie Rose. Nothing he could do would
erase the past and bring her back. She would never get to grow up and have a
family, never push a stroller while juggling her coffee. She was gone and he
had to let her go.

            Again.

“Perhaps one did not want to be
loved so much as to be understood.”

― George Orwell

            “Best
breakfast in Natchitoches.” Denny leaned back and rubbed his stomach.

            “I’m
a little concerned about you,” Henry said. “I’ve never seen anybody put away
two platters of biscuits and gravy with a whole side of hash browns and bacon.”

            Patsy
wiped Jack’s hands and shook her head. “Don’t worry about him. He eats like
that all the time. It’s so annoying. I’m convinced he has a portrait in the attic
that’s getting fat while he stays skinny.”

            “I
was blessed with good metabolism,” he said, grinning. “Just like my little guy,
right?” He reached over and handed Jack a slice of bacon.

            “Hey,
he was happy with his hot grits and strawberries,” Patsy said, trying to
intercept the bacon. “Let’s wait a little bit to stuff him full of nitrates.”

            Nita
appeared at the table and looked around. “Full of what? We only have real food
here. Real bacon, real ham, real chitlins, real gizzards.”

            “I
know you do, Nita,” Henry said. “Best breakfast in town, Denny was just
saying.”

            “And
dinner and supper,” Nita said. “Just ask your friend Blue.” She winked at
Henry. “He sure is taken with you. I’ll be expectin’ a wedding invitation, ya
here? I served y’all on your first date and I gotta take a little credit of for
it all.”

            Henry
choked back a laugh. “For what all? Nita, you’ll be the first to know if there
is any wedding planning but it was just a date. I don’t know where it will go
from here. “

            “Mmm-hmmm,”
Nita said, one fist propped on her hip. “That’s what they all say and soon
we’re countin’ grandbabies.”

            “That’s
definitely the way it happened with me,” Denny said. “We had a first date and
before I knew it, we were here.” He waved a hand toward Patsy and Jack. He
pretended to consider it a moment. “Maybe I should warn Blue to run while he
has a chance.”

            Patsy
tossed her balled up napkin in his direction.

            “Blue
is perfectly capable of running if he feels like it. But I can promise you that
when he hears all the rumors he’ll sure think twice about a second date.”

            “Oh,
honey, I think it would take a lot more than that,” Nita said. She laid the
ticket on the table and sashayed away, throwing a sly look over her shoulder.

            Henry
sighed. “Small towns.”

            “The
single life,” Denny said.

            “Everybody’s
up in your business,” Patsy agreed. “Plus, if you were going to be dating
anybody, it would be that Gideon fellow.”

            Henry
stared at her, speechless. “And why would that be?” she finally managed.

            “You’re
not the only one with crazy good intuition,” Patsy said.

            “Better
leave it to the experts,” Henry said. “There’s nothing happening there.” She adjusted
her ponytail, wincing a little as she pulled it tight. “And I hate to run, but
I’ve got a tour coming through Oakland in an hour. Are y’all busy tonight? I
can cook something. You haven’t seen my new place.”

            “You
act like I don’t know you at all,” Patsy said.

            Henry
started to laugh. “Okay, maybe I won’t be cooking. But we can get take out.”

            “Remember
your Aunt Millie asked us over for supper tonight,” Denny said, touching
Patsy’s arm. “We could come over in the afternoon and then head over to
Millie’s from there.”

            “Oh,
that’s right.” Patsy ran her fingers through her curly red hair, making it go every
which way. “When we come visit we have to be fed in every home of every
relative or I get to hear about it. But I really do want to see your place.
Maybe around five?”

            “Sounds
great,” she said. “I’ll call you when I get home.”

            A
few minutes later she was striding back toward her car, the humidity thick as a
blanket. She checked her shirt for breakfast stains. It would have been better
to stop off at her apartment and freshen up but she’d spent too much time at
breakfast. She didn’t mind. Having Patsy and Denny drop in to Natchitoches was
like finding out Christmas was coming early.

            Nobody
could replace her oldest friend. Henry had forgotten what it was like to talk
to someone and not be afraid of the lies. There wasn’t another person like that
in her life.

           
Except
Gideon
, her brain corrected. Not that she was completely comfortable around
him but she certainly wasn’t afraid of what she was going to hear, and that was
miles ahead of everyone else in her life. But that was as far as it went.

            She
turned the corner and saw Blue’s office a few feet ahead. The date had gone
really well, nothing like the disasters of her college years. They’d laughed
their way through a few hours of good southern food, and then he’d walked her
home. At her door, he’d given her a sweet kiss on the cheek and told her how
much he’d enjoyed their time together. It was nice. He’d already left a message
this morning. She’d go out with him again. There wasn’t any reason not to,
really. 

            Except
Gideon.

           
Henry
let out a huff of air. She wasn’t going to refuse a nice guy like Blue for a
man who hadn’t shown any interest in her at all. He’d invited her to
participate in a professional endeavor and for that she was incredibly
grateful. Nothing more. She told herself this several times as she came closer
to the alley that led to the little parking lot. Gideon, the man whose best
friend was a priest, looked perfectly content at the prospect of being a
bachelor for life. It would be ridiculous to think of him in any way except a
professional one.

             A
man’s voice called out behind her and she turned, thinking how funny it was to
be thinking of Gideon and then for him to appear as if by magic.

            But
it was her granddaddy. And her
mamere
. And Kimberly.

            “I’ve
been callin’ you,” Frank said, eyebrows drawing down. He switched to Creole, as
if to bring her back to her childhood, when he was the law and she was that
child always in the way. “You never listen, always livin’ up in that head of
yours.”

            Henry
let out a light laugh. “You know it’s so,” she agreed. She let herself be
kissed and hugged by each of them in turn. Switching to English, she said,
“What are you doing down here?”

            “Well,
that’s not a very nice howdy-do,” her
mamere
said. She lifted one
smooth-skinned shoulder and dropped it again, her figure perfectly showcased in
a white linen, sleeveless dress. With her waves of dark hair and deep green
eyes, Birdie Pascal was the Creole version of Marilyn Monroe, if the actress
had lived to her seventies. She was all curves, with a keen sense for sniffing
out the person who held the power in any situation.

            “That’s
what I said.” Kimberly cocked her head. “It’s almost as if she doesn’t want to
know us.” She was as beautiful as ever, her eyes large and luminous, set over
high cheekbones. Henry wondered if Kimberly ever looked less than perfect.

            Frank
grunted. “Gettin’ too big for your britches. Barney Sandoz said you won’t let
him on the property, that you don’t think he got the qualifications to be
involved up there.”

            Henry
felt her throat go tight with rage. “I don’t trust Mr. Sandoz. He wants to be
part of the excavation but hasn’t told me why he should be there. In fact, he
spun some tale about his ancestor owning Oakland Plantation. There’s nothing
about that in the archives and the Prud’homme family―”

            “So
what? It’s not written in a book so it can’t be right? Don’t forget where you
came from, girl. You got a degree and you think you know it all but you only
got that position because I put in a good word for you.”

           
Lie.

           
“No,
sir. And I’m sorry. I’m running late.” Henry looked at her watch. If she didn’t
hurry, the tour group was going to be waiting for her. She took a breath and
then did her best to give each person in front of her what they really wanted.
“But we should meet up at the festival this weekend. I’ve heard people saying
you’ve kept the whole thing on track, granddaddy. Without Frank Pascal, they
said, it would have all fallen apart long ago.”

            He
straightened up and nodded. “Glad to hear people have a lick of sense. Some days
I feel like I’m trying to work miracles, sorting out all the schedules and
making sure everybody’s happy.”

            “And
I need some advice on how to decorate my new apartment,” Henry said Birdie. “I
can’t decide on white on cream, or white with bright pops of color.”

             “Honey,
you don’t even need to ask. Leave it all up to me. I’ll make that old place
livable in no time.”

            “Thank
you so much,” Henry said, forcing an extra note of enthusiasm, even though her
stomach was knotting at the idea of her
mamere
anywhere near those
perfectly preserved vintage fixtures. She’d have to make sure she oversaw every
step or the place might end up renovated right out of its historical status.

            She
turned to Kimberly and put on her brightest smile. For a moment, she didn’t
think she could get the words out. It had never been hard to lie to her before.
“It’s so great to see you back here, Aunt Kimberly. I know how hard it is to
get time off.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “And what a nuisance it
is to deal with all the constant attention. I just don’t know how you handle
it. I’d lose my mind if I had to live like that.”

            Kimberly’s
eyes went wide and her mouth made a little ‘o’. She really did look like a
china doll. “You have no idea. But it’s so worth it, just to see all of you.”
Kimberly reached out and gathered in
mamere
on one side and Henry on the
other.

            Henry
let herself be squeezed for a moment and then said, “And is my Mama coming to
visit this weekend? It’s been so long since the whole family was together.”

            The
moment the words were out of her mouth, she knew she’d gone too far. Frank
stared up at the sky, while Birdie picked at an imaginary speck on her skirt.
Kimberly’s eyes went tight. “I’m sure your Mama’ll come visit some other time.
You
know, Lisette has always been so jealous of my fame.”

           
Lie.

           
“Yes,
ma’am. But I really do have to go,” Henry said, edging past them and toward her
car. “But call me and we’ll make plans.” She threw them a frantic little wave
and trotted across the little lot, careful not to turn her ankle on the paving
stones.

            She
slid behind the wheel and turned the key. They thought they were the only ones
who could lie while smiling. She had learned from the best. Years and years of
watching the people closest to her had taught Henry the fine art of telling
falsehoods. Some sleight of hand, a little flattery, and a quick exit. Nothing
to it.

            She
tightened her ponytail and rubbed her temples. She did what she had to do to
keep the status quo and everyone happy.
Everyone except me.
Her stomach
ached with nerves and she blinked back sudden tears.

            As
good as she was, as easily as she lied, she’d never quite learned how to live
with herself afterward.      

                                                                        ***

            Gideon
poured another cup of strong coffee and headed back to his desk. He needed to
make it through the appointment and then he would leave early. He was getting
too old to survive on just a few hours of sleep. Plus, the nap was essential in
case he had to take another midnight watch.

            Settling
at his desk, he took a sip and burned his tongue. He turned over and over in
his mind some way to ask Henry if she’d found her keys but in his muddled state
he couldn’t think of any reason to bring up the subject. He wished he knew
Alice and Paul better.

            Bix!
He set down his cup and picked up the phone. He’d ask Bix to ask Henry… and
then report back to him? Gideon put the phone back in its cradle and leaned
back in his chair. Bix would think it was odd, at the least.

            A
knock on his door shook him from his thoughts. Henry appeared, a cautious look
on her face. “Hello,” she said.

            Gideon
took in her bright lipstick, her ponytail and glasses, and wondered if it was
possible to miss someone you barely knew and had only just seen the day before.

            “Oh,
good,” Gideon said. He stood and motioned toward the other chair.

            “Good?”