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

by Mary Jane Hathaway

  She realized they’d stopped working. She looked at her square, trying to find her place, wishing she’d never come to this little house, never asked him inside. The next moment, she was blurting out the truth.

  “She’s my mother,” she said. “Kimberly Gray is my mother.” The words echoed around in her head, sounding louder and more powerful than she’d thought they would be.

  There was a long moment of silence.

  “Ah.” He nodded. “That explains a lot.”

  “You said that before. Am I that much of a puzzle?”

  “Actually, yes. Do a lot of people know or am I just out of the loop?”

  It was strange, really. Her whole life she’d been guarding that secret room, the one she kept all to herself, the one that held the darkest secrets. He made her want to open the door and invite him inside.

  “Nobody knows.”

  “Nobody in town?”

  She swallowed hard. “Nobody.”

  “Except your family.”

  “She doesn’t know that I know. None of them do.” There it was, the very worst part about being Kimberly Gray’s daughter. “The elephant in the room is a world-famous celebrity.”

  Gideon sat back on his heels. “You’ve always known?”

  She nodded. “Ever since I can remember.”

  He didn’t ask how she knew. If he had, she could have told him that a birth certificate contains a lot of indisputable facts.

  “But you’ve never told them.”

  “Of course not.” The idea was ludicrous. White hot anger surged through her. “It’s not my responsibility to clear the air. They’re the ones who’ve been carrying on this charade for my entire life.” She swiped at the sweat on her cheeks, or maybe it was tears. “Every time they call her my aunt, they lie. Every time they call Lisette my mother, they lie. They lie, and lie, and lie. And you think I should be the only one telling the truth? Why do they deserve it? Why do they deserve the truth and I don’t?”

  He stood up and brushed the dirt from his hands. She’d said too much, shown the dark grief and anger inside. She expected him to answer questions that weren’t his concern. Maybe she could pretend she’d just been joking around but it was too late and she didn’t have the energy for a lie that big. She dropped her head and didn’t bother to wipe her face again.

  Then he was next to her and lifting her up, his hands under her elbows. She said something into the front of his shirt, not even understanding herself through her tears and not expecting any kind of answer. His arms were wrapped so tightly around her that it almost hurt, but she didn’t move.

  “Because,” he said finally, “when you lie right back, you’re letting them have all the power.”

  She shook her head against his chest but he didn’t say anything else. She tried not to cry out loud because crying had always been something that women did for attention, not what people did when they had reached the absolute end of their ability to cope.

  After a while she was aware of how her shirt was sticking to her back, the way her neck was craned at an angle and how a knee pad was slipping down one leg. He felt completely solid under her hands and cheek. She took a deep breath and inhaled the smell of him, that soap-and-something-wonderful combination. He hadn’t shifted at all and she wondered at his ability to stand so still, especially with someone having a small breakdown against him.

  She realized that she would have to step back eventually and look him in the eyes. Dread crept over her, freezing her in place. Before today, they’d been friends. Or maybe that wasn’t quite the right term. They had been people who told each other important things. But now she was a woman who cried and he was a man who stood there until she was finished.

  He somehow sensed the change in her and leaned back. She kept her face down, hoping that some miracle would happen and he would walk straight out the door without any other conversation. She could see patches of wetness on his shirt and she hoped it was tears and not from the fact she’d been pressing her runny nose in that spot.

  “Hey,” he said and his voice was very soft. It didn’t sound like a man who was disgusted by the person he was holding.

  She looked up, afraid of what she’d see in his eyes. She could see a small pale scar near his jaw and a spot he’d missed shaving. There was tenderness in the lines of his face.

  “You deserve the truth,” he said. “And you deserve to be able to tell the truth.”

  “Thank you,” she said. Her voice sounded a little soggy and very tired.

  So, he wasn’t repulsed or annoyed. That was good. She scanned his features, trying to puzzle him out. His eyes dropped to her lips and he reached out a hand, cupping her cheek. A second before he leaned forward, Henry realized what he was going to do and she bolted backwards. Her heels hit the edge of the digging site and she lost her balance, wind-milling her arms.

  He reached out and grabbed the collar of her shirt, hauling her back by the scruff of her neck.

  “I’m sorry I―” she started to say.

  “I didn’t mean to―” he said.

  “―jumped like that.”

  “―scare you.”

  She let out a nervous little laugh. Typical. She finally found someone she wanted to kiss and when he made a move, she reacted like a complete nutcase.

  His cheeks had gone pink and she realized he was feeling as humiliated as she was. And the worst part was that it was definitely too late to give it another try. He’d stepped away, hands in his pockets.

  “I’ll let you get back to work,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said. “Thanks for my keys. And the help.” She waved a hand over the dirt. She wanted to say something about listening to her, and the hug, and the almost-kiss, and the save from falling on her backside but she didn’t.

  He nodded and was gone. Henry was left in the little building wondering how, after all this time and effort at keeping everything to herself, one person could know all her secrets.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Why, what could she have done, being what she is?

  Was there another Troy for her to burn?”

  ―Yeats

  Gideon walked the long path back to where he’d parked his car outside Oakland Plantation. He’d come to drop off her keys and apologize for talking so much during the dance. Instead, he’d asked questions and for some reason, she’d answered them. Maybe Tom was right. Maybe they weren’t the type of people to talk about the weather.

  He ducked under a low branch and sighed. Like most guys, he didn’t like to watch a woman cry. When they did, you were supposed to go over there and offer some kind of comfort. He’d seen quite a few people cry while touring the archives and he’d always either carefully retreated from the area, or gotten Bernice’s attention. Bernice would hug a fence post if it looked like it needed it. Ruby was always reaching out to touch his hand, and even Bix and Tom liked to sling an arm around him. But Gideon always felt like the space between him and the other person was impossibly wide and by the time he made his way over there, the person might not want to be touched after all.

  Henry had started to cry and he didn’t even think until his arms were wrapped around her. His chest constricted at the memory. She was what Sally would call a ‘tough cookie’, nothing much seemed to bother her. There was a steeliness in her smile that promised a fight if someone crossed her. She walked the line with sureness, never wavering. When she talked Cane River history, her confidence was palpable and she gave the impression of a woman who was used to relying on herself. When she confided in him, her expression had been heart-breaking, the way she’d dropped her chin, as if admitting defeat.

  He couldn’t stand there and let her drown in her grief. At first, she’d hugged him right back, sobbing quietly into his shirt. She’d fit so perfectly there against his heart. For one shining moment, it had all seemed so easy, so natural. This was how it worked. Two people came together and there wasn’t anything complicated about it.

  A hawk flew overhead an
d Gideon watched its graceful trajectory across the bright white-blue sky. He was completely out of his depth. He’d felt her tense and thought she was feeling embarrassed, wanted to reassure her that he didn’t think any less of her, was so honored that she confided in him. She’d looked up with those green eyes and he’d been lost. He’d wanted to kiss her for weeks and for some reason, his brain had decided that moment to urge him on. The way she’d jumped back told him everything he needed to know.

  Henry was afraid of him.

  He couldn’t blame her. He hadn’t done anything to earn her trust, and if anything, she was wise to be wary of him.

  When he reached his car, he took out his phone and dialed Tom.

  “OK, you win,” he said when Tom answered.

  “Great. But it would be nice to know what I won.”

  “Supper for four. Or five. Or whatever you want to do.” Gideon rubbed his face. “I have no idea what I’m doing and I could use some help.”

  There was a brief silence on the other end and when Tom answered, Gideon could hear the smile in his voice. “So, you’re going for it? You’re not just yanking my chain?”

  “I don’t know what going for it means.” He was in a no man’s land of unresolved feelings and questions without answers.

  “Don’t worry. Everyone will have a great time. It’ll be painless. I promise,” Tom said.

  “That’s terrifying. That’s what doctors say before they hurt you.”

  Tom laughed and after one last reassurance, he hung up.

  Sliding into his car, Gideon started back down the long driveway from Oakland Plantation. Vince had a saying he was fond of when Gideon was little: you can pay for your dreams or you can forget about them. He couldn’t seem to let Henry be, but only time would tell what the payment would be for pursing her. For the first time in a long time, Gideon felt a whisper of fear.

  ***

  Henry walked toward By the Book, her work satchel heavier than usual with all the notes she needed to sort, but her thoughts looping over and over. Patsy and Denny had gone back to LaFayette and her life seemed a lot lonelier than it had been before they came to visit. It was strange how just one week with them reminded her that she needed friends. She needed someone to talk to who wasn’t a coworker. She needed someone who knew her, inside and out, and was always on her side.

  There was someone else who knew her, but his loyalties weren’t guaranteed. Her cry-fest on Gideon’s chest a few days ago had been cathartic but it had also created a bigger problem. He was in possession of two of the biggest secrets, both of which could wreak havoc in her life and the lives of her family members.

  She was torn between acting as if she didn’t care and begging him to keep his mouth shut. If the man could lie a little, she wouldn’t be so concerned. As it was, all it would take was Tom asking the wrong question and Gideon would just tell the whole sordid tale.

  Good thing he’d fixed that basement door because she was avoiding him completely.

  Just as she passed Blue’s office she realized that she’d forgotten to call him… again. She backtracked a few feet, tightened her ponytail and pulled the door open. The air conditioning was a welcome relief from the late afternoon heat and the reception area was tastefully decorated. She glanced around at the comfortable-looking chairs and the Cane River landscape paintings and smiled. Blue had excellent taste. Not surprising.

  “May I help you?” The receptionist was a dark-haired young woman with a soft Louisiana accent and beautiful large dark eyes.

  “Is Blue available?” Henry was already regretting dropping in. She should have just called. Except she could never remember.

  “Just one moment,” she said and reached for the phone. After a few seconds, a door opened and Blue emerged. Even though he was wearing a nice suit and an expensive tie, he looked as boyishly charming as ever.

  Henry, on the other hand, realized that her clothes probably had more than one or two smudges from walking back and forth in the Cane River park area. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said. “I’ve just come from work but I wanted to say I got your message.”

  He gave her a swift kiss on the cheek and said, “You look tired. Hard day?”

  “Sort of. But in a good way. I’m headed home.”

  “I’ll walk you back,” he said and motioned toward the door. The receptionist glanced up and Henry thought she caught a flash of curiosity in her eyes. Henry imagined that every woman within a twenty mile radius was curious about Blue Chalfant. He was Natchitoches’ most eligible bachelor.

  As soon as they were out the door, Blue asked, “Do you know Barney Sandoz?”

  “Unfortunately. Seems he pops up everywhere I turn. Is he still talking about how I won’t let him in on our digs?”

  Blue looked around. “Let’s sit here for a second,” he said and led her to a bench. Henry felt a shiver of alarm. A bench on the river walk was more private than his office, near his secretary, and he didn’t want to be overheard.

  “I heard Barney talking at Sam’s Roadside diner a few nights ago. He was drunk and maybe everything he said was a lie―”

  “No maybe about it,” Henry said. “He’s lied to me every single time we’ve talked.”

  “Are you and Gideon Becket working on some secret project?”

  It took Henry a few moments to understand. “Oh, the Finnemore papers? It’s not secret.”

  “Finnemore as in the Finnemore house over on Trudeau Street?”

  “Right. Gideon was friends with Arthur. When he died, he donated the entire collection of Cane River history to the archives.”

  Blue frowned. “So, the archives have possession of these papers?”

  “No, they’re still in the basement at the Finnemore house. Why? What’s going on?”

  He ran a hand through his hair and sat back on the bench. “He wants to hire me to sue for possession of the collection.”

  Henry couldn’t speak for a moment, then she started to laugh. “But why? First of all, they’re worth nothing to a man like Barney Sandoz. Secondly, they were given to Gideon.”

  “To Gideon, or the archives? Was it in the will? Or was it just a verbal promise?”

  “I… I’m not sure.” She tried to think back to what Gideon had said when he’d described the project.

  “And why hasn’t he moved the boxes? If they were given to the archives, they shouldn’t still be in the house, right?”

  “Gideon said there wasn’t room and he had an understanding with the real estate agent to use the basement until the house sold.” She shook her head, still amused at the way Barney had tried to insert himself into the project. “I can’t imagine what Barney wants with all those pictures and letters. Gideon is documenting them for an online data base.”

  “He says it’s worth a lot of money to museums and that Arthur Finnemore promised him the collection.”

  “He’s slicker than a greased pig, that one. I’ll let Gideon know that he might have trouble there.” She turned to Blue, realization dawning. “Are you taking his case?”

  “You don’t have a very high opinion of me,” Blue said. “Personally, I wouldn’t take that case because I wouldn’t want to work with someone like Barney Sandoz unless I absolutely had to. Professionally, it wouldn’t be ethical for me to be talking to you about it if I did intend to take the case.”

  “That’s obvious now. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  “No harm done,” he said and meant it.

  “Thank you.” Henry realized how forgiving Blue was, how little he took to heart. She wished she could be more like him. Every word and action seemed to carry such weight. She also seemed to assume the worst of everyone.

  “So, I was wondering if you wanted to get supper at Peggy’s Place, down at the end of the river walk. I’ve heard their smothered cabbage and alligator fingers are amazing.”

  Henry opened her mouth to agree but Gideon’s words came back to her in a flash. You deserve the truth, and you deserve to tell the
truth. And the truth was that dating Blue wasn’t what she wanted. She saw in the tiny gestures he made, the softness in his voice, the attention he paid to her that he cared more for her than she did for him, and it would likely always be that way.

  “Or maybe you’re more of a seafood girl? My Aunt Bernice said the crabmeat remick is almost better than her mama’s.”

  “Blue,” she started, “I really like you.”

  He winced. “But.”

  “But, I just don’t think… It’s not because of you, really.” She’d never had to give anyone the ‘just friends’ talk before and she realized she was awful at it.

  “Henry, it’s okay.” He closed his eyes for a second. “I understand. I don’t think I ever had a chance, really.”

  “A chance?” Henry reached out and covered his hand with hers. “I really do like you. From the first day we met, I’ve thought you were the sweetest guy around.”

  He laughed a little but it sounded strained. “Sweet. That would be great if I wasn’t up against Gideon, bad boy historian.”

  “It has nothing to do with Gideon,” she said, feeling the shock of his words travel down into her heart. “And I don’t like bad boys,” she added a little belatedly. She didn’t. She’d never understood the bad boy mystique and shook her head at women who signed up for angst and heartache when they could have chosen a better kind of guy.

  “Then, it’s the historian part.” He smiled and she could tell that although his ego was taking a hit, he wasn’t bitter. “The first time I saw you two together, I wondered. But I knew for sure at the Zydeco Festival.”

  “He asked me to dance because… It’s hard to explain. ”

  “Listen,” he said. “I don’t blame you. He’s smart, handsome, and as dedicated to Cane River as you are.”

  “You’re all those things, too.” Henry didn’t know why she was digging this hole. She should just agree with him and go on. “You came back here when you could have opened an office anywhere. Your family is here. Just because he’s a historian and you’re not, doesn’t matter to me.”