These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance (27 page)

            He
let out a soft laugh. “Don’t you see? It’s all connected. Something― or
someone, made you reconsider your hermit-like existence. It started the
process,” Tom said. “You can’t go back now, Gideon. You can’t put the poop back
in the horse.”

            The
impossible task. Vince always said that and Gideon remembered how it always
made them laugh as kids.

            “If
I can’t go back, what do I do?”

            Tom
was quiet for a moment. “You have to decide. Certain things could trigger a
violent outburst, make you do something you wish you hadn’t. Do you stay where
you are, trying to avoid anything that might set you off? Or do you move
forward?”

            Gideon
looked at his hands, wishing there was some wisdom written there, some sign.
“Moving forward sounds good when you say it like that. Sounds real simple.”

            “You
know it won’t be a good time, that’s for sure,” Tom said. “But you have to make
a choice. Is she worth it? Do you try to get to the bottom of what happened and
see if you can find some peace? Or do you turn away from someone who loves
you?”

           
Love.
He wanted to ask Tom if he really thought Henry loved him, but he couldn’t. 

            Tom
went on, “Sure, you could try to backtrack from your friendship, or whatever it
is. Get some distance. But eventually she’ll move on and you just might regret
choosing the easy way out of this.”

            Gideon
tried not to think of how he’d feel watching Henry move on with someone else.
He didn’t even have to consider it. He would do anything to have a chance with
her. But as much as he dreaded reliving what happened that cold, dark night
when he was five, there was something else that scared him even more.

            If
he took that step, it would be the Domino that toppled all the issues he’d so
carefully set aside. Sally and Vince, Austin- all those pieces would start to
wobble. He couldn’t hope to fight his demons and leave all of that unresolved.
Healing didn’t work that way. It demanded more, it gathered the hurt and
disconnected bits inward until everything was complete. And that wouldn’t be
painless.

            “Okay,”
he said.

            “Okay?”

            “You
know I never take the easy way,” Gideon said a mixture of fear and hope rising
in him.

            “Understatement,
my friend.” Tom walked toward Gideon, wrapping him in a hug. He thumped him on
the back a few times, let go and walked to the door.

            “Oh,
and I’m glad you’re not avoiding Henry because she’s coming with us next
Saturday. If you haven’t made your move yet, I think it would be a perfect
time. Nothing says romance like a nature hike, a scenic view and seven elderly
priests.”

The sun, the moon, and the
truth― three things that can’t stay hidden.

― Old proverb

            “So,
when are y’all going out?” Patsy’s voice was muffled and Henry could imagine
her holding the phone against her shoulder, carrying Jack in one arm and the
diaper bag in the other.

            “I’m
not sure. We never got that far.” Henry actually hadn’t let him finish his
sentence.

            “Oh,
really?” Patsy drawled out the word. “No need for words, huh? I get where
you’re going. No need to elaborate, Sherlock.”

            “Funny.
That’s not what I meant. We were standing on the street and I was late so, I’m
sure he’ll call me.” At least, she hoped he would. She hadn’t seen him Sunday
and it was already Thursday morning and she hadn’t heard anything. “This isn’t
junior high. I’m not sitting by the phone.”

            “Sure.
Of course not. That would be silly.”

            Henry
sometimes hated how well Patsy could guess Henry’s state of mind. “When are
y’all coming back to town?”

            “Friday
morning. Could you get the afternoon off? We should do some shopping. And I
don’t mean just hit the book stores. I mean shoes.”

            “For
an entomologist, you sure do a lot of shoe shopping,” Henry said.

            “It
hurts me that you think those two things are exclusive,” Patsy said. “Of
course, this is only if you don’t have to hang out with Kimberly.”

            “No.
I think she went home to Los Angeles,” Henry said. She felt a surge of guilt at
the words. Even though she’d been right and everything she’d said was true,
she’d hurt Kimberly. When she closed her eyes, she saw Kimberly’s face filled
with horror and pain. Patsy had been urging Henry to have the talk with
Kimberly for years, but now that it had happened, Henry was too ashamed to tell
her about it. Her neck went hot just remember her cruel words.

            “Whenever
Gideon decides to give you details, just let me know and we’ll work around it. Friday
afternoon, if you can. Maybe even Saturday if I can get out from under my aunts.”

            “Oh,
I completely forgot. Saturday morning is out. I’m driving some retired priests
to Mount Driskill for a field trip.”

            There
was a short silence. “I’m not even sure if I want to know the full story.”

            “Well,
Father Tom and Gideon are driving the other two cars, so it’s not like I’m
stealing them away by myself,” Henry said.

            “Hm.”

            “Gideon
isn’t the reason I’m helping out,” Henry said.

            “Of
course not. You always drive old priests on field trips.”

            Henry
decided she’d never win the conversation so she switched topics. “I’ll let you
know, as soon as I hear anything.”

            “Call
me with all the details,” Patsy said. “I’m not kidding. Gideon is the most
exciting thing that’s happened in years. I need all the news.”

            “See
you Friday.”

            “With
all the details,” Patsy reminded her.

            “Sure
thing.”  Of course, Henry had no intention of doing anything of the sort.

                                                                        ***

            Gideon
replayed his conversation with Cora in his mind as he walked toward the
Finnemore house. She’d agreed that his mentor relationship with Reggie had
failed. Although she assured Gideon that he was still welcome to mentor and
that she believed he wasn’t a violent man, he sensed her surprise and dismay.
All he could do was reiterate his apology and state that he was working through
some things. It had been a long time since he’d eaten so much humble pie.

            He
turned the corner and the house came into view. He felt his hands start to sweat.
He hadn’t called Henry yet. He’d been swinging between the need to hear her
voice and the fear of trying to navigate the details of their date over the
phone. He’d almost gone to Oakland Plantation but then wondered if she’d feel
crowded. He didn’t want to be a pest. He’d see her soon, either in the basement
working, or at the latest, on Saturday. Of course, with all those priests in
tow, it might not be the best time, either.

            There
was a chance she was working right now. Not a strong chance, but still. He
smoothed down his shirt and tried to remember they were both adults. There
wasn’t any reason for any angst or drama. If he and Henry decided it just wasn’t
working, they could still be friends. There wasn’t any reason to be so
unnerved. That’s what he told himself as he walked toward the house, but the
truth was that he felt less anxious when he lived in a prison filled with
murderers. The realization that he was more afraid of dating Henry than being
roommates with convicted felons was a blow to his ego.

            He
looked up and caught a flash of dark clothing near the basement steps. He
slowed, watching a man emerge from the stairwell. His head was down and covered
with the hood of an old sweatshirt. Gideon stepped out of the man’s line of sight
and waited until he reached the sidewalk.

            “Hello,
there.” He kept his voice light and friendly.

            Barney
Sandoz looked up with such an expression of fear and horror that it would have
been funny if Gideon wanted to scare him. As it was, Gideon was trying his
hardest to make sure he didn’t have a repeat of last Saturday’s rage fest.

            “Did
you need something? I have a key to the basement,” he said.

            Sandoz
shook his head, eyes wide. He didn’t seem like he was able to form words at the
moment.

            “I
heard through the grapevine that you had an interest in Arthur’s collection. He
left it to me but I’d be glad to let you take a look at it sometime.” A
well-supervised look, of course.

            “No,
I’m just checking on the house. I’m buying it and need to clean out that
basement.” Sandoz’s voice shook a little bit he spoke but his eyes were
narrowed.

            “You
are?” Gideon turned and looked back at the house. “I knew they were getting it
ready to sell. I guess I’ll have to move that collection out of the basement
this weekend, then.”

            “Actually,
everything in the house is mine. That was written in the offer I made on the
house.” Sandoz stood up straighter, as if he was finally getting his nerve
back.

            “No,
it doesn’t work that way. You can have everything else. Not the collection.”
Gideon dropped the friendly tone.

            Sandoz
turned and started walking quickly toward the river walk. “I’ve put a lock on
the door. Just to keep it safe. You know, from thieves.”

            “Like
yourself, you mean.” Gideon kept up with him, step for step. “I saw what you
did to the door.”

            “You
don’t have any proof.” Sandoz reached the river walk. “You stay out of the
basement and away from the collection. It’s mine. I paid for it.”

             “You
didn’t pay for anything. It’s not yours.” He towered over him, hands at his
side, breathing evenly. He didn’t want to cross any lines but Sandoz needed to
know Gideon wouldn’t back down.

            “I
heard what you done to Reggie. He says he’s gonna make sure Nightmare Jones and
his pals pay you a visit.” Sandoz smirked. “I know who has the power in this
town.”

            Shock
flashed through his system. He’d pegged Sandoz for a small-time thief and crack
local historian who liked to stick his nose in every project, but if he was
dropping names from Angola, Sandoz was a whole different kind of man. Nightmare
Jones might be on death row, but he had power. He had men in every major
Southern city who would die for him, or kill for him.  Gideon spent years
staying invisible to men like that.

            “If
they do, I’ll be ready. But you better be ready, too,” Gideon said.

            Sandoz
looked around at the people wandering passed and then raised his voice. “Don’t
touch me! You can’t threaten me, I have rights. I’ll call the police and report
you.”

             “Nobody’s
threatening you. I meant that you’d better watch your back where Nightmare
Jones and his posse are concerned. He’s not the type to―”

            Sandoz
stumbled backward, clutching his chest. “I said don’t touch me,” he yelled. A
man carrying a grocery sack stopped to watch them. Two women on the other side
whispered to each other.

            “Shut
up. Nobody’s hurting you,” he said, feeling his face go hot. Sandoz wasn’t only
more than a petty criminal, he knew how to play the game.

            “You
can’t make me keep quiet. I know what you did,” Sandoz was glancing around, a
half smirk mixing with his expression of fake horror.

            Feeling
fury rise up in him, Gideon took a step in his direction. It was the wrong
move.

            “Help,
help,” Sandoz yelled and turned, running into Lorena’s Grocery store.

            Gideon
stood there for a moment, wanting to go after the man and knowing that it would
only make it worse. Little creep. He ignored all the whispers and stares as he
turned back to Finnemore house.

            Whatever
Sandoz thought he could do with the basement collection, the reality was that
it was Cane River Creole history. It didn’t belong to anyone. Gideon legally
owned those papers, but he would only claim it that so he could complete the
project. All of it belonged to the people of Natchitoches.

            He
reached the basement door and felt a wave of pure anger sweep through him at
the sight of a giant padlock attached to the frame. Looking more closely, he
was thankful that while Sandoz may have friends in low places, he didn’t have
the brains to really board the place up tight. Gideon took out his Swiss Army
knife and using the mini screw driver, made quick work of the metal plate attached
to the big oak door. He let the padlock swing to the side, intact.

            Shaking
his head at the fact that Sandoz thought a padlock could keep him out, Gideon
walked inside. The dim interior looked exactly the same but he lit all the
lamps and did a thorough accounting of the boxes, just in case. Gideon still
felt the urge to check every pile that had been sorted, catalogued and scanned.
He was just looking at the last stack when he heard a noise at the door and
whirled around, hands at the ready, imagining the tattooed and sneering faces
he remembered from prison.

            “Hey,”
Henry said. She sounded a little wary, or nervous. He wasn’t sure which. Her
hair was back up in a ponytail and the glasses were in place.

            “Hey.”
He walked forward, fighting back the frightening images his brain had supplied.
As he came closer, she moved as if she wanted to touch him but wasn’t sure how.
Gideon thought of giving her a hug, but by the time he’d decided to try it, the
moment had passed and she’d turned around.

            “What’s
going on with the big lock?” she asked, jerking a thumb toward the door.

            Gideon
explained about Barney Sandoz and his bid on the house, but he omitted the
connection to Reggie and the prison gang members. Thinking of Reggie made him
flush with shame and he hurried on with his story, skipping over the fight on
the sidewalk and ending with Sandoz insisting he owned the papers.

            “We
need to remove these now,” she said. She looked toward the boxes. “I wish I had
a truck. Do you know anyone with a truck?”

            He
shook his head. “I’ll call Tom and see if he knows anyone. But I don’t think
Sandoz can get in here. Everything looks the same. Let’s try to get some work
done, then I’ll put the padlock back the way it was. That should buy us some
time to move the collection.”

            “Sounds
good.” There was something off in her voice but he couldn’t quite figure out
what. She reached up and tightened her ponytail, wincing a little. “Let’s get
to work.”

            Gideon
pulled out his phone and dialed Tom, leaving a quick message when he didn’t
answer. Bringing over another box, he set it on her side of the table. Maybe
she felt unappreciated. He’d always worked alone and it hadn’t occurred to him
to tell her how glad he was for the help and what a wonderful job she did.

            She
looked up and the lamplight flickered against her glasses. He wished she’d take
them off so he could see her eyes. “Is something wrong?” she asked.

            There
was that something in her tone again, something that said she didn’t really
want to talk. “I― no.” He went to his end of the table.

            They
worked in silence for a while. Finally, he decided that he’d rather annoy her
with talking than take the risk of looking ungrateful. He shuffled his papers.
“Henry?”

            “Yes?”
She seemed resigned, sad.