“The best part of a Caddy is the trunk, sha,” Ruby said, snapping a pincer.
“As big as a back seat. You can fit three grown men in one. And don’t ask me how I know it,” Bix said.
“I’m sorry. Whatever it was, I’m sorry,” he said. He reached out and to grab her hand, wanting desperately to reverse what he’d done. Then he remembered that she was afraid of him and stopped.
“You lied,” Henry whispered.
Gideon blinked at her.
“Remember when we took Janeese’s kids to the drive in movies, we got ten people in that car. Best five bucks I ever spent on two movies,” Ruby said.
“But they got popcorn in the seat. I found popcorn for years, like it was just multiplyin’ in the cracks.”
“You two need anything? Tabasco sauce? Pepper?” Tom raised his eyebrows at them, concern shading his voice.
“No, sir.” Henry brushed back her hair and picked up a piece of corn. “Everything is just right.”
Gideon stared down at his plate. I guess you’ll know when I lie to you. He’d said those words to her with complete confidence that he never would. He’d thought having something to lose was a decision he could make, like choosing the color of his socks. Instead, it had happened without him knowing.
***
The sun slipped toward the horizon and the sky turned from palest pink to deep orange. Henry felt terribly lazy as she relaxed in her chair, hands folded in front of her, perfectly content to listen to Bix and Ruby talk about their courting days. Gideon was making slow circuits of the back yard and she wondered if he was avoiding more of Ruby’s romantic recipes, or just didn’t like to sit still for long.
Father Tom emerged from the back door, carrying a large glass pan. The sweet scent of warm vanilla filled the air. “Bread pudding with whiskey sauce. I don’t make this real often because I want to eat it all,” he said, placing it in the middle of the table.
“And that would be a problem?” Ruby inhaled deeply.
“Yes, ma’am. There’s a shortage of priests, haven’t you heard? I have to keep this heart in tip-top shape.” He tapped his chest.
“I need to send your mama a thank you note,” Bix said. “You have the gift that keeps on givin’, I do believe.”
Father Tom laughed. “You can tell her when they come visit in a few weeks.”
“Do they come to visit very often?” Henry asked.
“Every few months,” Father Tom said. He started to cut generous slices of the steaming dessert. “I can’t get away for the holidays so they usually come down here. Birthdays, too.”
Henry glanced at Gideon, wondering what he did at Christmas and Easter and all the other times of the year when people gathered with their family. If Father Tom was hosting the parents he wasn’t close to, that could be awkward.
He seemed to guess what she was thinking. “He avoids the Mass they attend, makes sure they’re gone before he comes over, and generally acts like a stubborn mule,” he said. “Nobody can make him take a step he doesn’t want to take. Or at least that was what I used to believe.”
Bix passed a plate to Ruby who passed it to Henry. “Has he changed his mind? I always knew he’d come around, sooner or later.”
“So what do you think caused this change of heart? Is it about that man getting out?” Ruby asked, taking up a fork and tasting the bread pudding.
Father Tom slid another piece onto a plate and shook his head. “No, I think it’s somebody else.” He met Henry’s eyes and gave her the tiniest wink.
She glanced around the table, utterly lost. So, Gideon might be reuniting with his estranged parents and it had something to do with her? “Which man, Bix?”
He chewed for several long moments and then shot her a look that was so comical she nearly laughed out loud. It was a ‘someone is behind you’ look, but on Bix it was like waving a flag in the air and shouting. There wasn’t a subtle bone in his body.
Gideon sat down beside her. “Not one of y’all called me back to the table so either you’re planning on eating this bread pudding all alone, or you’re talking about me.”
Henry leaned over and nudged him with her shoulder, whispering, “Don’t worry. It was about some man who was coming. I couldn’t figure out the whole story, so we’re both in the dark.”
He looked down at her, his lips turning up. She realized the last time they’d been this close, she’d been covered in tears and sweat and dirt. If he moved toward her now, she wouldn’t jump back. She didn’t care who was watching. He held her gaze for a long moment and then whispered back, “Maybe if we ask nicely, they’ll let us in on their conversation.”
“You think?” she whispered back. Henry wasn’t curious in the least. She just wanted Gideon to stay close.
“We weren’t trying to be mysterious. We were talking about Duane Banner,” Father Tom said. There was a hint of regret in his voice.
Henry sat up straight, feeling ridiculous for flirting about such a horrible topic. Henry opened her mouth but wasn’t sure what to say. She’d read the newspaper article. She knew exactly who Duane Banner was.
“He was the man who murdered my family,” Gideon said, misinterpreting her silence.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“Nothing to be sorry about. He’ll be getting out of prison soon and these three are probably ready to stage an intervention, hoping to keep me on track.” Gideon’s tone was light but he kept he gaze somewhere in the middle of the table.
“Don’t you worry. We’ll keep you accountable,” Ruby said.
“Accountability only works as well as the trust on both sides,” Gideon said. He accepted a plate from Bix and picked up his fork. “If I decided to track him down, I wouldn’t announce my plans. I’d just quietly head on over to New Orleans to pay him a little visit as soon as he got back home. And if I did announce it, nobody here could stop me.”
From killing him. He didn’t need to finish his sentence.
She looked at Ruby, Bix and Father Tom. Here they were, discussing real temptation, the sort of temptation that sent a man to prison for life. She’d never really known that kind of honesty. She kept her fears inside, hoping nobody saw past her bravado.
“Not even all of us, together?” Henry asked.
“I’ve spent half my life in federal prison. I don’t think a priest, two old people and a historian are going to cut it,” he said, but his tone was gentle.
Nobody else spoke.
“Not even if we― if we locked you in somewhere?” she asked.
“You’d have to get me into that somewhere first,” Gideon said.
“Well, that would be easy. I bet I could lure you in, no problem.” She took a bite of the bread pudding, letting the warm sweetness melt against her tongue. “I know what men want and I’m sure you’re no different.”
His face flushed red and he blinked once, twice. Ruby giggled and Father Tom coughed into his fist, as if he’d swallowed wrong. Bix let out a low whistle.
“A flat screen TV, a football game, hushpuppies, chicken wings, maybe some hot mustard and ranch dressing.” She ticked off the items on her fingers. “Am I right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Gideon’s mouth twitched. “But… baseball.”
“What?”
“I prefer baseball. For future reference, for the luring.”
“Duly noted,” she said and was in the process of taking another bite when she realized why Ruby had laughed.
***
Gideon tried to enjoy his dessert but he was too busy watching Henry’s face turn color. She was adorable. He’d never thought any woman could be simultaneously adorable and so alluring that he lost his appetite.
He’d told Tom that he only wanted to be sure she wasn’t afraid of him, just so they could work together peacefully. That had been a lie.
She made him want to walk away from the life he’d built, where everything was orderly and safe. He wanted to take chances with his heart, even if there was a real possibility s
he would reject him. It was the opposite of everything he’d believed for the past seventeen years. He didn’t care. He had to chase even the slimmest possibility of knowing what it was like to be loved by her.
Henry Byrne made him want to live.
Chapter Seventeen
“The truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it.”
― Flannery O'Connor
Henry rolled out of bed in one smooth movement and stretched, arms high over her head. The sun was shining through the long windows of the small bedroom and she couldn’t fight the feeling of absolute optimism. Weekends had always been something she suffered through just to get back to work, where she was happiest. But after moving to Natchitoches and taking the position at the park, her life had slowly evolved to something much bigger than a Monday to Friday job. For the first time, she was didn’t dread the evenings when the rest of the world enjoyed their friends and families. A lot of that had to do with Gideon. Actually, it was all about Gideon.
She padded into the kitchen and started a pot of coffee. Leaning against the counter, she couldn’t help smiling. He had lied. Gideon had lied as easily as anyone she’d ever seen, the little casual nicety falling from his lips without embarrassment. It was silly to be so happy. It had nothing to do with her life. The man was healing from a terrible childhood tragedy and learning to forgive himself for a vicious crime. It was only natural that he would eventually love someone, especially with so many good friends around. He didn’t have to be so guarded, he could build a life and a future.
The coffee pot beeped and Henry rummaged for a mug. Pouring herself a cup, she realized she was out of milk and got out the powdered creamer. She needed to take this slow. Gideon’s life and future didn’t automatically include her. She wasn’t even sure what they were. Colleagues seemed too formal, friends too casual. There was that one moment in the outbuilding when he’d leaned in to kiss her, but otherwise, she didn’t even know if he thought of her in a romantic way. A few seconds of shoulder contact did not a relationship make.
Henry sipped the scalding liquid. As much as she tried to convince herself that Gideon’s sudden change didn’t affect her life, her heart was full of the most wonderful anticipation. She’d told Father Tom she couldn’t really trust someone who had nothing to lose. For her, it had been the only thing standing between them.
The toast popped up behind her and she jumped, sloshing hot coffee on her hand. Hissing with pain, she set down the mug and ran her hand under cold water. After a few minutes, she pulled it out, wincing at how her skin was red and painful to the touch. She didn’t believe in seeing signs everywhere, but maybe she’d better put the brakes on all this optimism. She should take it one day at a time, and today was full of Kimberly.
***
Gideon made his way down the river walk, intensely aware of the beautiful morning. Memories of last night’s supper ran on a loop through his mind. He looked up at the sky, wondering if it was so blue and clear yesterday, or if it came from that subtle change in the weather that September brought. Or maybe he was simply seeing the world differently.
As he turned the corner to the Finnemore house, Gideon saw several utility trucks parked at the curb. The front door was standing open. A man in coveralls emerged, carrying a spool of wire over one shoulder.
“Hey, there,” Gideon called out.
The man paused, shading his eyes with one hand. “Are you the realtor?”
“No,” Gideon said. He introduced himself. “I’ve been working in the basement on some papers Arthur Finnemore left. What kind of work are y’all doing on the house?”
“Everything,” he said. “Looks like the rats done chewed through the wiring upstairs. Got raccoons living in the attic space. Water damage in the bathroom, went all the way through the floor.”
“So, the estate is serious about selling?” Gideon gazed up at the house. It was beautiful, in its own way. “That’s a lot of work for no guarantee.”
“I dunno. It seemed like the realtor man was sure of sellin’ it.” He turned around and gazed up at the structure, crossing his arms over his chest. “But if ya ask me, I’d burn it down and start over. Some of those premade homes are real nice, even if they bring ‘em in on a truck and stick ‘em together.”
“I suppose,” Gideon said. He suspected that the builder wasn’t keen on local history. If he were, any amount of renovation would be worth preserving the place. “Well, I’m headed downstairs.”
The man nodded, already turning back toward his truck.
Gideon walked around the side of the house and started down the basement steps. The keys were in his hand and he was just a few feet from the door when he saw the splintered frame, the dents in the heavy oak panels and one long crack that stretched from top to bottom. He froze, reaching out a finger to trace the marks. He pushed against the door and it held. Turning the key in the lock, it resisted for a moment then swung inward. Gideon walked inside, his heart pounding in his chest. But instead of seeing an empty basement with only a few scattered papers, he saw the boxes stacked in orderly rows, everything just as he’d left it.
The scanner was there, clean towel draped over the top to keep out the dust. He always backed up his files and kept the current work on a flash drive, but he’d left his tablet on the table the night before, right next to the master list that contained the description and the number assigned to the letter or picture. Maybe the work on the house had made thieves suspect there was something of value in the basement. Maybe it was a random act of vandalism.
He wiped a hand over his face and was surprised to feel cold sweat. He’d come close to losing all his work. Putting everything in one place could be a disaster. All the time and effort he and Henry had spent would be for nothing. And more than that, his dream of a Cane River Creole history database would be gone.
Slumping onto a chair, he took a shaky breath. He had to figure out a way to store everything off site as soon as he could organize it. The entire operation had to be moved. This was a warning he was going to heed.
***
A soft knock at the door startled Henry into pausing mid-step from the bathroom to the bedroom. She looked down at the towel she had wrapped around herself and debated whether she had time to get clothes on before her visitor left. Since the back door was usually locked, it was probably Alice. Or maybe Charlie.
Henry tip-toed across the living room and listened for any sounds outside. There was only silence. “Hello?” she called out.
“Open the door, sweetie,” Kimberly called back. “I’m here to help you get ready.”
Henry leaned her forehead against the door and closed her eyes. She could just imagine all the help Kimberly was going to give her. “You’re five hours early.”
“Are you going to open the door?”
She turned the bolt and opened the door, revealing Kimberly in all her glory. Her bright red dress was paired with several long gold necklaces and she carried garment bags over one arm. She raised one hand and touched her hair, as if to make sure it wasn’t catching whatever had happened to Henry’s head.
“I just got out of the shower,” Henry explained.
Kimberly bustled in. “Lorelei, get that product in and your hair dried or I won’t be able to do a thing with it. What are you wearing? I brought a few things for you to try on.”
She nodded, heading for the bedroom. A memory of her high school prom flashed through her mind. She hadn’t wanted to go, hadn’t even been asked, but Kimberly somehow arranged for the school quarterback to take Henry. He sent her a note saying he’d pick her up at six. He’d never even spoken to her before that night. Kimberly arrived at noon that day and spent the next five hours making sure Henry was perfect for her big night. The quarterback showed up, stood still for pictures, and ditched her as soon as they got to the dance so he could spend the evening with the girl he’d really wanted to bring.
“Let me just get some clothes on,” she said and tried to close the bedroom door
behind her but Kimberly was already half-way inside, looking for a place to hang the garment bags.
“I also stopped by Lana’s Lingerie shop because the right underthings are so important.” She unzipped one bag and exposed a bright pink strapless dress. “I was thinking this one, with a little push up corset I brought. It’s real fitted, but I think if you don’t eat anything at the reception, it should be fine.”
Did she really believe Henry would get in a corset? There was no way she was going to sit through a whole wedding ceremony trying not to breathe. A nice dress from her closet would be fine. It wasn’t as if Henry was wandering around town in her nightie and slippers.
“Would you like some coffee? Or breakfast?” Henry asked.
“No, thank you, hon.” Kimberly slid both hands across her stomach. “I had a little cup this morning but I don’t want to look all bloated. Your mamere cooks so much and then she gets upset when I don’t finish a big plate of it. Just last night she made cheese grits and biscuits with sausage gravy. Can you imagine? I can’t eat like that at my age.”
Henry didn’t remember her eating like that, ever. She grabbed some jeans from the closet and a Tshirt , and slipped them on.
“Oh, those jeans aren’t really made for your figure.” Kimberly put a finger to her chin and surveyed Henry’s outfit.
“I’m only wearing them to the bathroom.”
“Still, you never know who might come by. That waist is way too high. You need to have it set right on your hip bones so it makes your derriere nice and round in the back,” Kimberly said, turning Henry and tugging her jeans down a few inches. She smoothed down Henry’s rear and sighed.
“You must have got your daddy’s backside. We Pascal girls have a real bootie. You should try these exercises I saw in a magazine that are supposed to do what nature forgot. Men like a bootie, you know. Ask any man and he’ll tell you that even more than―”
Along the Cane River: Books 1-5 in the Inspirational Cane River Romance Series Page 50