These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance (6 page)

            He
ran a hand over his beard. When he’d decided to take a man’s life, he had
thought he didn’t have anything to lose. He’d been wrong. He’d had everything
to lose. Now, most days he didn’t care if he lived or died. On good days, he
wondered why he’d survived and his sister hadn’t. On bad days, he begged God to
let him go back in time and switch places with her.           “Mentoring
convicted felons means helping connect them with jobs and prepare for interviews
and find apartments. I don’t have anything to do with getting their families
back.”

            Cora
cocked her head. “You don’t like the fact he has a child?”

            An
unreasonable amount of anger rose up in Gideon’s chest and he took a long
breath, trying to sort out why he’d rather walk over hot coals than get
involved. The truth was that he may know what was going through the ex-con’s
head, but he definitely understood what that eight year old was feeling.
Betrayal, fury, a deep need for revenge. And there was no way he knew how to
diffuse that bomb. “I just work better with adults.”

            She
laced her fingers together and propped her chin on her hands. “You’re definitely
the best mentor we’ve ever had. But I also think you’d be great at keeping Reggie
on the level while he transitions back into society… and being a dad.”

            “I’m
not a parent.”

            “I
know that. But you had to come back and build relationships that were damaged.”

            He
sighed. “Cora, I don’t know how you got the impression I have a family of any
kind, but I don’t.”

            “Father
Tom is a close friend of yours, isn’t he? Weren’t you foster kids together?
He’s like a brother to you.”

            “Yes,
but that has more to do with him, than with me. He wrote me every month while I
was in prison.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t write him back for seven
years.”

            Her
dark eyes widened. “And somehow you made your peace with each other and
maintain a relationship today. I still think you can apply your experience
here. Reggie looks young, but he knows what he’s lost, and what it will take to
get it back. Nine years in a federal prison isn’t a vacation, you know.”

             “Everybody
knows that.”

            She
dropped her hands to the desk and leaned forward. “No, Gideon, they don’t. They
see free health care, three hot meals, a recreation room and vocational
training. They don’t see how every minute of your day is scheduled, how you eat
what they give you to eat and sleep when they tell you to sleep. They don’t see
the struggle to survive in a group of the most dangerous men in the state.” Her
voice got softer. “You know what it’s like to be that young and live that long
in those conditions, then be released and try to understand what the real world
is like, how real people interact. The dynamics are night and day.”

            He
stared at his feet. “I just can’t help him if he asks me what to do about his
kid. That’s all.”

             “Are
you afraid you’re going to give him bad advice? Or are you afraid you’re going
to get sucked into some family drama?”

             “It’s
just not an area I’m comfortable with,” he said.

             “So,
is this a yes? The kids we have come through here are usually finishing a few
years’ term, at most. You’re the only one I know who can show him that a serious
crime with serious time doesn’t mean he can’t be a productive member of
society.”

            He
looked back toward the waiting room, toward the tall, skinny kid with the baggy
clothes and the wary eyes. Without the continued education offered in Angola,
he never would have finished high school. Without being encouraged by the
prison librarian, he wouldn’t have known he could request history books from
other libraries around the state. Without the volunteer English tutor pushing
the idea, he wouldn’t have applied for a scholarship through a private Southern
university. Without the head of the department at Emory giving him a chance, he
wouldn’t have made it into their program. And then when he was released, he
wouldn’t have had anywhere to stay without Tom’s help. He vouched for him to
the board of the archives and they took a chance on a convicted felon.

            Dozens
of people stood in the gap and gave him a chance when he didn’t deserve one.

            “Okay.”
He stood up. “I’ll go introduce myself.”

            Cora
sat back with a satisfied smile. “I can always count on you, Gideon.” She
handed him a folder.

            He
walked into the waiting room and paused at the first row of chairs. He waited
until the young man looked up and made eye contact. In prison you learned a certain
way to approach someone, depending on your intention. You also learned when to
prepare for the worst. If you saw someone striding across the room in your
direction, you’d better prepare for a fight. Gideon wasn’t there for a fight.

            After
a few seconds, the young man nodded and Gideon came closer. He held out his
hand and introduced himself. “Cora tells me you’ve got a lot on your plate
right now.”

            He
shrugged. “I’ve put in a lot of applications but nothing yet. There’s not much
work here.”
For guys like me
was the unspoken ending of his sentence.

            Gideon
sat down beside him. “I was hired on the recommendation of a friend. You got
family who can help?”

            Reggie
shook his head. “The ones who’re still speakin’ to me aren’t in any position to
put in a good word. A lot of places have rules.”
About hiring felons.

           
“You’re
right. Most companies have blanket policies but there are a few spots that will
make an exception if you’ve got someone to vouch for you.”

             “I’m
tellin’ you. I don’t got anybody like that.”

            “Okay,
well, I don’t know how much Cora told you, but that’s something I might be able
to help you with.”

            His
face lit up. “Really? You can make them give me an interview?”

            “Nope.
I can’t make anybody do anything. And before we get into what I will do, I want
to make it real clear what I won’t do. I won’t lie for you. I won’t cover for
you if you mess up. I won’t say you’re a good worker if I think you’re not.”

            Reggie
nodded.

            “I
won’t be working all the companies in town, trying to get you an interview. You
have to follow any leads Cora gives you, even if it means a dirty job nobody
wants. You stay clean, stay out of trouble, and show them you’re serious about
making a life outside of prison. And I’ll do everything I can to make sure you
get a shot.”

            “I
can handle that.” He looked around the room and then dropped his voice. “And I
can make it worth your while.”

             “I
volunteer. You don’t owe me anything.”

            “You
were up in Angola, right? Me, too. Big tourist trap. We were just performing
for all the visitors who came to see the farming and the cows. We know what
really goes on in there, what you gotta do to survive. I don’t see no gang tats
on you but maybe you didn’t need none, as big as you are.”

            If
he’d been imprisoned before the prison was reformed in the nineties, he’d have
been enslaved within minutes of arrival. As it was, he’d looked like such an
easy target that he was kept in isolation. When he finally joined the general
population, Gideon had already spent years lifting weights. He could defend
himself.

            “I
was part of some big things there,” Reggie said.

            He
had a sinking feeling but Gideon played dumb. “What, the radio station? Or the
Angolite? I wanted to work on that paper but I could never get a place. I was
in the rodeo once. Almost broke my arm. But I liked being in the Range Herd and
working with the cattle.”

            “Naw,
none of that. I was in the Dog Pen, but Big Manny and Flat Foot are good
friends of mine. And Nightmare Jones owes me a favor from when I arranged
things to get him transferred to a block with AC. He’s got lots of connections.
You help me, and I’ll make sure that favor goes to you.”

            Gideon
looked him in the eye and for a few moments said nothing at all.
Owes me a
favor. Arranged things.
Sometimes working with felons brought it all back,
every horrible, lonely day of his sentence. Gideon knew those names and he knew
what kind of person would claim the men as friends.

            He
was tempted to go back into Cora’s office and tell her he’d changed his mind.
But Reggie had survived in prison the best way he’d known how, and just like
Gideon, wanted to live as a free man.

            “I
told you I don’t want any favors,” he said. “I don’t want to hear those names.
I don’t want you to speak my name to those people. And if I hear you’re running
around with the same type of people that got you into prison, we’re done. Do
you understand?”

            Something
flickered behind his eyes but Reggie said, “Sure. I got it.”

            Flipping
open the folder, Gideon scanned the first few pages. Then he closed it. “Know
what? How about you tell me the story and then we’ll see where we go from
there.”

            Slowly,
hesitantly, Reggie started to tell the story of a kid who made some very bad
choices. Gideon listened quietly as the words dropped into the space between
them, echoing with all-too familiar notes of desperation and regret.

“I lie to myself all the time. But
I never believe me.”

― S.E. Hinton

 
          It was a hot and muggy Wednesday afternoon and tourists flooded the
Natchitoches Historical District. Henry stopped, letting an older couple pass
before crossing the street to By the Book. Finding an apartment right in the
heart of the Historical District was a dream come true. Add in the fact that it
was right over the most charming book store she’d ever seen, and Henry wondered
what she’d ever done to deserve it.  

            Usually,
she parked around the back and headed upstairs by the private entrance but she
was hoping to find her landlady in the little bookstore. Alice Augustine was
leaving for New York that afternoon and Henry wanted to say goodbye. Alice had
welcomed her with the enthusiasm of someone who truly loved Cane River and its
people, inviting her over for home cooked jambalaya and making sure she knew
how much she was appreciated. Some could say that Alice was simply being
hospitable to a new tenant, but Henry knew the difference.

            A
little brass bell on a faded red ribbon tinkled its welcome as she pushed open
the door. The air conditioning wasn’t as chilly as in the modern buildings and
it felt pleasantly cool on her bare arms. Her pale green summer dress was just
tailored enough for work but light enough that she didn’t get heat stroke
walking around outside.

            She
glanced around the sunny interior and didn’t see Alice at her desk. The long
rows of antique and rare books gave Henry the feeling of stepping into a grand
old library. The whole building was like traveling back in time, with its
original hanging lamps, wooden paneling, and iron fixtures. It was one of the
most perfectly preserved buildings in the Historic District.

            “Hey
there, Miss Henry,” a voice called out and she turned to see Charlie straightening
up, hands full of the paper bags that were usually stacked behind the front
counter. The teen’s hair was dyed bright pink on one side and she had on a
Tshirt that said ‘Gameologist’. “Can I help you find something or are you just
headed on upstairs?”

            “I
just wanted to say goodbye to Alice before she left on her trip.”

             “She’s
at lunch with Bix’s wife, Ruby, but she’ll be right back in a few minutes. They
always go to down to the café and get ribs on Wednesdays.”

            “Okay,
I’ll browse around until she comes back.” She turned toward the poetry section
and jumped at the sight of a large black cat perched at the top of the range.
He had fixed his bright green gaze on her and it didn’t waver, even as she took
a step back.

            “Oh,
don’t mind him. That’s Mr. Darcy. He doesn’t like anybody.”

            Henry
tried to calm her heart. She wasn’t really a cat person. Or a dog person. She
was more of a book person. “Does he sit up there all the time?”

            “Sure
does. Unless Bix brings in bacon from The Red Hen, then he’ll come down to get
his fair share.”

            She
imagined Bix, the other employee of By the Book, bringing a whole bag of bacon,
because there seemed to be a lot of cats. Bix was at least eighty and couldn’t
see more than a foot in front of him. He wore a straw hat and a navy coat from
the Second World War. Calling him eccentric might be an understatement but his
slow Cane River drawl and Creole accent reminded Henry of everything good about
her childhood.

             Funny,
although she’d seen a lot of cats, she still hadn’t met Alice’s husband. Alice
had mentioned she was married but Paul had been in New York City for the past
month. Henry asked what he did there, but Alice hedged the question. It was one
of the few times Alice had avoided telling her the truth and since Alice was
usually so straight-forward, Henry hadn’t felt hurt. Maybe they were having
problems. Maybe Paul was employed by an unpopular company. Henry wasn’t sure
what the problem was, but Alice had clearly avoided the topic.

            She
walked toward the end of the range, looking for a volume of Edna St. Vincent
Millay poetry. In college, a professor had said Edna was the anti-Elizabeth
Barrett Browning, full of heartbreak and the futility of love. She couldn’t
really argue with that. Something in that bleakness satisfied Henry’s idea that
romantic love seldom worked out.

             She
ran a finger along the spines of books and felt the tension of the day start to
leave her shoulders. She hadn’t heard from Gideon since he’d visited Oakland
Plantation and she was starting to think he hadn’t been serious about wanting
her help. Of course, all she needed to do would be to send him an e-mail.
E-mail had always been her favorite way to correspond, even with friends. She
couldn’t tell whether someone was lying when there were only words on a page.
But just like before, she avoided contacting him. Instead, she went over their
conversation, analyzing the things he’d said, and what he hadn’t.

            Flipping
past a few pages, the words drifted past her without any of their usual weight.
She stopped, forced herself to focus on the words.
I am but summer to your
heart and not the full four seasons of the year.
Henry had always loved
that line for the bitter-sweetness of it. But today, it seemed all bitter;
she’d never been summer to anyone’s heart.

             She
skipped forward to a sonnet, hoping to find something that could soothe the
restlessness in her. It had plagued her all week, making it hard to sleep, hard
to concentrate.
What lips my lips have kissed, and where and why, I have
forgotten.
She
snapped the book closed and put it back on the shelf.
She’d never kissed any lips and couldn’t imagine kissing so many that she
forgot any of them.

            “Henry?”
Alice’s voice carried over the range and Henry called back, “Right here.” She
headed back to the foyer, a smile already tugging at her lips.

            She
emerged and stopped short, looking from Alice to the dark-haired, handsome man
who had his arm wrapped around Alice’s waist. Alice had always struck Henry as
being a classic Creole beauty, but at this moment, her eyes shone with a
happiness that was beyond beauty. As she focused on Paul, the tiny mysteries
around Alice’s marriage were solved in a second.

            “Henry,
this is my husband, Paul―”

            “Olivier.”
Henry held out a hand. It all made sense now. She would have understood sooner
if Alice had taken Paul’s name. As it was, she hadn’t realized Alice was
married to Natchitoches’ home town boy grown up to be the famous tech
billionaire. A flagship store in his chain of electronics and game outlets, a
three
story glass and steel structure, stood just blocks away. “Now I feel silly for
asking what your husband does in New York City.”

             “I
didn’t mean to make it awkward. It’s just, when you asked me that… It’s hard to
explain sometimes.”

            “It’s
really okay,” Henry said. She certainly understood keeping a secret. “And I
probably didn’t give you a chance. Once I get going, I sure talk a lot.”

            “Me,
too,” Alice said, grinning.

            “So,
you two had many deep and personal conversations that completely skipped over
your dear husband?”  Paul turned to Alice, eyes wide, laughter in his voice. “I’m
hurt.”

            “I
only skipped a few minor details.” She nudged him in the ribs. “He thinks he’s
funny. Just because I had no idea who he was when we first met.”

            “Oh,
it was more than that.” He lowered his voice and whispered, “She fought me
tooth and nail, thought I was a scourge on the city.”

            Alice’s
face went red. “Well, clearly I didn’t fight you too hard because your store is
right down the block
and
I married you.”

            “I
credit that to the fact that I’m very persuasive.” He winked at Henry and she
had to laugh.

            Charlie
sidled up. “I think it’s because they lived next door to each other. I bet Paul
smelled Miss Alice’s famous gumbo from down the hall and―” she snapped
her fingers, “that was it.”

            “Charlie,
we should start calling you Sherlock.” He turned to Henry. “A pot of gumbo did
make an appearance. It was a Monday, if I’m not mistaken. I was taking a shower
and I thought it was Andy knocking―”

            “They
don’t want to hear the whole boring story,” Alice interrupted, nudging him. Her
cheeks had gone pink again. Henry could tell the full gumbo story was far from
boring. “I say that we connected because we also had several friends in common.
Elizabeth, Sara, Gerard, Christina.”

            “Don’t
forget Alexander Pope,” he said.

            Henry
blinked, realizing that the friends Alice listed must be all poets. “You two
are adorable,” she blurted. Then she put a hand to her mouth. “I mean, you make
domestic happiness seem so attractive.”

            “They
do, don’t they?” Bix had come through the back door while they’d been talking. His
pushed back his old straw hat. “It gives me hope for the world, seeing these
two together.”

            “Now,
Bix,” Alice said, but Henry could tell she was flattered.

            “That’s
how we feel about you and Ruby,” Paul said, as if finishing Alice’s sentence.
“We wouldn’t have made our way together without your wisdom.” He looked at
Alice and pulled her snug against his side.

            She
gazed back at him, pure love in her eyes. “I thought we were too different. Or
I was too different.”

            Bix
said, “My first wife always said if you mix up your craziness enough, you’ll be
happy. God rest her soul, she was right.”

            Henry
couldn’t help sighing a little. She’d never been a person who got lonely. In
fact, she preferred her solitary life. But something had been stirring in her,
a discontent, a feeling of something
missing
, and for the first time,
she felt envious of two people living so closely together. They didn’t need to
hide behind half-truths and evasions. Their love was free of secrets.

            “But
honestly, you should have been here a few years ago, Henry. It was touch and
go. I thought I was gonna have to push them into the closet and block the door
until they got themselves straightened out,” Bix said.

            “Still
sounds good,” Paul said, winking at Alice. “Maybe I can think of something to
fight her about.”

            Charlie
giggled.

            “Maybe
the fact you never stick to a plan? I mean, I love that I’ll have company on
the flight up to New York, I was supposed to come to you, not the other way
around.”

            “I’m
a creative type. We don’t need to follow plans,” Paul said.

            Bix
tilted his straw hat back and said, “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll
keep that creative bent for your work and follow your wife’s directions.”

            “Wise
words, my friend,” Paul said.

            “Will
you be gone long?” Henry asked. “Should I feed the kitties?”

            “Oh,
no, Charlie and Bix can handle the crew.” Alice glanced up at the top of a
range and Henry followed her gaze. The giant black cat was still perched there,
watching them.

            “That’s
Darcy, isn’t it? I met him a little while―”

            The
little brass bell tinkled and Henry turned to see Father Tom and Gideon walking
through the door. Of all the people she’d expected to show up, Gideon was one
of the last. He’d mentioned that he lived in Natchitoches, but seeing him in
her building, just feet away, made her mind go blank. She caught his gaze and
he smiled politely.  

            “Well,
this is turning into a real party,” Bix said. There was hand shaking, a few
hugs, and the circle expanded to accommodate the newcomers. She couldn’t
understand what Gideon was doing in By the Book. Unless he had come looking for
her. Henry smoothed her hair, suddenly unsure about where to put her hands. She
crossed her arms, then dropped them again.

            “Henry,
when you get to know him, you’ll realize that although he looks fierce, he’s
really just a big softie,” Alice said.

            Henry
stared at Alice. “Who?”

            “Mr.
Darcy,” she said, pointing at the cat.

            “Oh,
right. He seems very…” She couldn’t think of single positive adjective to
describe the green-eyed creature currently glaring down at her. She pushed up
her glasses and prayed for someone else to speak. “Soft,” she finally said.

            Father
Tom cocked his head, his lips turning up. “Henry, it’s great to see you again.
I hear you’ve got big plans for the national park.”

            “Yes,
plans,” she said. “Lots of plans.”  Her brain had stalled. She looked from Bix
who was smiling kindly at her, to Alice and Paul who were waiting patiently for
her to elaborate, to Charlie who was still looking up at Mr. Darcy, to Father
Tom whose brows had gone up and who seemed to be trying not to laugh. She tried
with all her might not to look at Gideon but almost against her will she met his
gaze. He was frowning at her, a look of concern on his face. She remembered
that he thought she had some sort of anxiety disorder.