Along the Cane River: Books 1-5 in the Inspirational Cane River Romance Series

by Mary Jane Hathaway

  “And reading sad love poetry.” Tom snickered. “Speaking of which―”

  “Nope,” Gideon said. “We’re not going there. Again.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he remembered Henry and how every conversation was tainted by lies. Tom was right there, ready to listen, and Gideon pushed him away.

  For a few minutes, the only sound was the quiet lap of the river and the occasional car that passed. Tom relaxed against the bench.

  He cleared his throat. “I mean, even if I did― I’m not saying I do, but if I did… like her… she’s already dating someone. A young, educated someone who is a much better prospect than myself.”

  Tom turned and looked at him, complete surprise on his face. “Are we discussing this? Or not? I’m getting whiplash.”

  A car passed slowly by, the thump of bass music like a heartbeat in the darkness. “I’ve never held a woman’s hand,” he said. His voice sounded foreign to his own ears, like himself but much younger. “Never kissed anyone. I’m a thirty two year old man who’s never been on a date.”

  Tom said nothing, just watched him, eyes reflecting the street lamps.

  “I was happy with my life.” Gideon paused, the past tense echoing in his head. “But now, I realize how far behind I am. I feel like someone who refused to learn how to ride a bike and finds out he has to pedal across the state.”

  “You think Henry won’t want you because you’ve never had a girlfriend? I don’t think she’s looking for the most experienced guy out there.” Tom shifted his feet. He spoke carefully, as if he were afraid of scaring Gideon away. “Has she shown any interest? Besides losing the power of speech when you’re around.”

  “I don’t know.” Gideon watched tendrils of steam curl off the surface of the coffee. “I honestly can’t tell. Sometimes I think so. But I spent years honing the ability to tell whether I was going to get shanked in the cafeteria line, not whether a woman was interested in me.”

  “Well, if you’re really going to consider taking a step in that direction, I’m willing to lend my expertise to the situation.”

  “I never should have said anything.”

  “I’m serious,” Tom said, laughing. “And I’m glad you said something.” The teasing faded from his voice. “What happened to you was no small thing. I’m your friend, whether you live alone, get married, or build a treehouse and spend all your time with the rope ladder pulled up.”

  Tom went on. “You have every right to spend your life coping the best way you can, even if that means walking away from women like Henry. But sometimes we’re sent a sign and we shouldn’t ignore it.”

  A sign. Gideon took a sip of coffee and thought of how Henry had come into his life like a flare, all sparks and smoke that made his eyes burn.

  “If you want, if you’re serious, I’d be happy to cook something, and invite you both to supper,” Tom said.

  Gideon almost choked. “Supper? Why would you do that?” The idea of trying to carry on a conversation over supper made him go cold with fear.

  “You two and a few other people. It’ll be fun. Listen, I know it sounds like I’m a couple paper plates short of a picnic but a lot of the world considers sharing a meal a way to get to know a future spouse.”

  “Future spouse,” Gideon said, shaking his head.

  “Ok, sorry. A romantic prospect. Better?” Tom sounded half amused, half exasperated.

  “And you think we need a chaperone?”

  “Not even a little bit,” Tom said. “But unless you’re going to march over there tomorrow and ask her out on a date, this might be a step that’s a little more comfortable for both of you. Also, if she’s already dating someone, you won’t look like such a jerk.”

  Gideon passed a hand over his face and was surprised to feel cold sweat on his skin. “I changed my mind. This is a terrible idea. She’s not interested and I’m better off just enjoying our friendship.”

  “Too late,” Tom said cheerfully. “I’ve already planned the menu.”

  “You’re ridiculous.”

  “Just make sure you talk. I can’t carry the conversation the entire time. If you two sit there and stare at each other like owls, I’ll have to do something drastic, like bring out Twister.”

  “I don’t think priests are allowed to play Twister with their guests.”

  “That’s not true. We can control the spinner.” Tom opened the paper bag and handed over a sandwich. “Bacon, lettuce and tomato.”

  He accepted it without comment. Sally always made BLT sandwiches when they’d gone on a fishing trip with Vince. Gideon never made them for himself. Ever. They smelled like happiness and tasted like warm comfort. They were part of his past and didn’t fit anywhere in his present.

  As they ate in silence, Gideon watched the dark windows of By the Book and tried to forget all the things he was afraid of, all the dreams he’d pushed aside in the interests of living a safe sort of existence. Once upon a time, he’d killed a man in righteous anger, exacting revenge on him for destroying Gideon’s family. He’d known it was morally wrong, but he hadn’t known that he didn’t have the full story. Months later he’d learned that his parents weren’t as innocent as he’d thought. They were as guilty as the man Gideon had murdered.

  Since that day, he hadn’t trusted his emotions. Love, anger, jealousy, even admiration, were all suspect. He never wanted to rely on his heart and be blinded again. And until now, he’d succeeded.

  Chapter Eleven

  Usually we walk around constantly believing ourselves. “I'm okay,” we say. “I'm alright.” But sometimes the truth arrives on you and you can't get it off.

  ―Markus Zusak

  Henry perched on her desk chair, an expression of longsuffering on her face. Patsy fussed around her, holding up one pair of earrings against her head and then another. Music blared through windows from the street below. It seemed the only drawback of the beautiful apartment over By the Book was the fact it was situated directly over the main bandstand of the Zydeco Music Festival. She wasn’t going to get much sleep that weekend.

  “I think we’re ready. I feel ready.”

  “Won’t you put your hair down just this once?” She’d chosen Henry’s outfit, fixed her make up, and was currently ten minutes into choosing the perfect accessories. “It’s a party. Nobody wants to see you in your librarian get up.”

  “I’m a historian, not a librarian. And who says anybody wants to see me anyway?” Henry asked. Of course, if she had to answer her own question, she hoped there was one person who did.

  Henry tugged at her top. “I feel weird. I don’t want to spend the whole evening feeling weird.” Patsy had chosen a button up, sleeveless white shirt that looked completely demure until it was paired with a flirty teal skirt that barely reached her knees. Zydeco dancing involved a lot of swing and Henry was going to have to be careful. Her trusty red cowboy boots were the only comfortable part of the whole outfit.

  Patsy grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around. “Sherlock, you always feel weird. That’s not going to change.”

  “True.” But then again, the last few weeks, she’d felt as if her life had taken a turn toward something new, something exciting and a little scary. She would lie in bed listening to her heart beat in her chest and for once, she didn’t wish she was someone else.

  “Blue better know how to dance. This outfit deserves to be seen.” Patsy pinned a shimmering butterfly into the back of Henry’s hair.

  She’d almost forgotten Blue was meeting them at the central dance floor. Her head was full of Gideon, the way his voice dropped an octave when he teased her, the way he knew more about her than almost anyone in the world.

  “He’s a good Creole boy. Of course he knows how to dance.” Henry checked her watch. “I don’t think there’s any other part of me that you can fix. Are we ready?”

  Patsy reached over and took off Henry’s glasses. “Just that.”

  “Hey.” She reached out for them but Patsy skipped out of the
way, laughing.

  “I know these are fake. Leave your little security blanket at home for once, Linus.”

  “Funny.” Henry felt a ball of anxiety form in her stomach. It was true that the glasses made her feel secure in a way that was hard to explain. She hardly ever took them off and never in front of anyone. Except Gideon, her memory whispered. But only because they’d reflected the flickering lamplight. It really wasn’t about him.

  “Did you hear me?” Patsy was standing there, arms crossed over her chest. She looked the picture of bonne temps, with her blue check shirt, swirly skirt, and perfectly battered old cowboy boots. “You’ve been out of it all week. Maybe we’re keeping you up too late.”

  “No, y’all are fine.” Henry stood up. “I’ve loved having you visit. You have to come here more often. I don’t want to see Jack running the next time you visit.”

  “Be careful what you wish for because Denny has been making noise about Natchitoches being a better place to raise kids than LaFayette,” Patsy said.

  “Really?”

  “No promises, but we actually went to see a few houses yesterday.” Her eyes were shining. “And you know how much I love you if I’m willing to put up with all my relatives just to be near you.”

  Henry grabbed Patsy in a hug, then leaned back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scream in your ear.”

  “Again, nothing is set. But Watson would be much happier near her Sherlock.” Tears glinted at the edge of Patsy’s eyes. “After I lost my dad last year, I realized that life is too short to be so far away from the people I love. And then when Jack was born, Denny and I both decided that we wanted to raise him near our families.” She rolled her eyes. “I know, it sounds like insanity, especially when we worked so hard to get away from them when we were younger.”

  Henry laughed, envisioning Patsy’s aunts hovering around Jack, giving advice in Creole all at the same time until Denny decided enough was enough and whisked him away for some fishing. Her smile slipped a little, wondering if she would ever want her family involved in her child’s life. If she ever had one.

  “We should go,” Henry said. “Denny and Bix are gonna feed Jack fried Twinkies and he’ll never eat normal food again.”

  “I had a fried Oreo, once. It was pretty good.” She looked up. “I can tell you that because you’re my best friend. No judging, right?”

  “No judging,” Henry said, glad that Patsy couldn’t tell when she lied.

  A few minutes later they moved through the crowd around the main band, dodging dancers’ elbows and loosely held red plastic cups. The crowd was bigger and louder than Henry remembered it from her visits when she was little.

  “There they are,” Patsy said, waving across the dance floor at Denny. He was dancing with Jack, swinging him low, grinning at the baby’s wide open-mouthed laughter. Bix and Ruby were dancing nearby in matching western shirts and jeans. Henry decided they were the cutest old couple in the state, maybe the country. Blue was leaning against a post, as handsome as ever in a black Tshirt and jeans.

  They made their way toward them, cutting through a little strip of grass where the trees were decorated with twinkle lights. Henry looked around, memories of her childhood and teen years washing over her. She’d always come to the festival and danced but she couldn’t ever really remember having a good time. Patsy was always good company but Henry would have rather been somewhere else. Tonight was going to be different.

  “You look beautiful,” Blue said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Let’s sit over here until they start the next song.”

  He didn’t give her the chance to respond but tugged her toward a row of tables. Patsy and Denny followed behind. As they settled in chairs, Denny looked past the band to the rows of booths. “I need some meat pies. Anyone else?”

  “Me,” said Henry, reaching into her pocket for cash but Denny waved it back. “Just hold Jack for me and don’t let my wife dance with any hot guys,” he said.

  “Sure thing.” She accepted the baby with a smirk. As soon as Denny was out of ear shot, she leaned over to Patsy. “I wonder what cute guy we can rustle up for you.”

  Patsy giggled. “He’s not teasing. He’s got a jealous streak a mile wide. That’s something I love about him.”

  “Really?” Henry asked. “I’ve never seen jealousy as a positive trait.”

  “A little bit goes a long way, that’s for sure. But I don’t know how to explain it.” Patsy got a dreamy look on her face. “We’ve been married four years and there are days I feel like we’re an old couple already. Sometimes it’s nice to know he’s still worried over a little competition.”

  “Girls love being fought over. In fact, some girls do their best to make a guy jealous,” Blue said.

  Henry frowned. “I’ve never been fought over, but jealousy doesn’t feel great so I don’t know why a girl would provoke it on purpose.”

  “Awww. You are so cute,” Patsy said, reaching over and patting her hand. “Someday you’ll understand.”

  Henry rolled her eyes. She doubted that she would ever yearn to make anyone jealous. That’s not what nice people did.

  “Whew,” Ruby said, dropping into a chair beside Henry. “That dancin’ sure takes it out of a body.”

  “Can I get you a cold drink?” Blue was already standing. “And Bix? What would you like?”

  “Mighty nice of you to offer, son. Sweet tea is fine for the both of us.” Bix watched Blue walk away and then took his seat. “That’s good raisin’, there.”

  “Sure is,” Ruby said. “I couldn’t have picked a better man for ya, Henry.”

  “We just met. I hardly know him.” This is the way it went in a small Southern town. One date you were practically on your honeymoon. “I think he’s nice, though,” she added.

  “Nice?” Ruby leaned forward, her dark eyes wide. “If he don’t float your boat, it’s better to let him go now, cher.”

  Henry opened her mouth but then didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t well explain that Blue was plenty attractive to her. Also, Ruby had a point. On the scale of one to ten in boat floating, Blue would be a solid three. He might grow on her but she certainly didn’t want to lead him on just to see if it was true. Instead of answering, she turned her head and looked at the crowd, pretending to find interest in the dancing couples.

  She saw Father Tom first, then Gideon. They were talking to a young couple with two small children. Gideon, had his arms crossed over his chest and was a little farther away from the couple than Father Tom. She wondered if it was because of the kids, or if he was that remote with everyone. As if in answer to her question, a young woman walked up to them and the little circle widened.

  Gideon glanced at her once, uncrossed his arms and a small smile touched his lips. Henry gave the woman another look, noting her long blond hair, shapely legs that seemed to go on forever. The woman said something and put her hand on Gideon’s arm, turning her face so Henry got a better view. She wasn’t as young as Henry thought but closer to late twenties and just a few inches shorter than he was. Gideon turned, said something in return and the woman threw her head back and laughed. She was positively beautiful. Radiant. They looked like a couple from a glossy magazine.

  “Did you hear me, Henry?”

  “Sorry, what?” She felt her face go hot.

  “I said we should invite your friend Gideon over here,” Patsy repeated. She had a little smile on her face. Henry narrowed her eyes. Patsy was aiming to make someone jealous when Blue came back. Which of the three of them it was, Henry didn’t know.

  “I think they’re fine where they are,” she said and didn’t care if she sounded rude.

  “Well, it seems they don’t because they’re headed over here,” Bix said. He punctuated this by waving his hand over his head in case they hadn’t seen them.

  A few seconds later, Gideon, Father Tom and the beautiful blond were standing at their table. It took a little while for everyone to be introduced and greeted, but in the end, they tugg
ed another table over and it became one happy group, with one very uncomfortable member. Henry pasted a smile to her face and tried to look like she was having a wonderful time.

  “So, Alanna, how are the kids?” Father Tom asked.

  Henry felt a rush of relief. The woman had kids, was probably married.

  “They’re really progressing. It’s only been a few months but I’ve seen some real changes.” She looked around the group. “I’m a mental health counselor for kids in crisis, kids who’ve been taken into foster care.”

  “That’s a tough job,” Patsy said.

  “But I love it.” Alanna smiled. “See, I work at one end, and Gideon works at the other.”

  “The other?” Henry asked.

  “I mentor recent parolees at the juvenile justice center,” he said.

  Henry wondered how long Gideon had been working there. He hadn’t said anything. But then, she hardly knew him.

  “Of course, I love history, too. I think the archives are just fascinating,” Alanna said.

  Lie.

  Henry let out a tiny sigh. Even without the self-conscious way Alanna rubbed her nose, Henry would have spotted that lie a mile away. She looked up to see Gideon’s gaze fixed on her, one side of his mouth pulled up. She shook her head, wishing she hadn’t been so obvious. It was a small lie. Nothing important. Henry needed to give people a little room to throw out their social niceties.

  But Alanna didn’t seem to know when to stop. “I’ve always been interested in history. It was my best subject in college. I have so many history books. Oh, and I love those shows on the History Channel. I could watch those all day.” She paused to rub her nose. “Some weekends I just curl up on the couch with some tea and watch those documentaries.”

  Lie.

  “You love those, too. Don’t you, Sherlock?” Patsy asked.

  Henry refused to look at her. Patsy could be so obvious sometimes. “I really enjoyed the Ken Burns series on baseball.” There. That would throw them into a different topic.