“You look so worried. I’m really okay. It hardly hurts at all now.” Henry reached out for his hand just as Bilbo nudged Gideon’s elbow. Trained to detect the slightest changes in Gideon’s breathing and posture, the service dog knew the signs that might signal the beginning of a traumatic flashback.
“Sorry. Just got lost in my thoughts for a second there.” Gideon ruffled Bilbo’s ears. “I’m okay, buddy.”
She was quiet for a moment. “You’re right about Flannery and Rem. It could be a lot more difficult than anybody realizes. Remember when I was afraid to kiss you? I was terrified that somehow it would all go wrong. You were the first real friend I’d made in a long time and I just couldn’t risk losing you.” She put a hand on her belly and smiled ruefully. “How quickly we forget.”
“Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten,” he said.
“Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold.” She smiled, quoting the next line. “Is that one in the book?”
He took it from the desk and opened to the page, reading the rest of the poem. After a few minutes, Henry leaned her head back against the chair and Gideon read to her, just as she had read to him from the same collection years ago. It had been raining that day, too. They’d sat on a bench at the summit of Mt. Driskill and she’d shyly opened the book, choosing a poem she’d said made her think of him. She’d read it slowly, blushing at the mention of kisses.
He closed the book and she struggled to sit upright. Bilbo raised his head and looked as if he was ready to lend his assistance.
“You know, I’ve decided.”
“Oh?” Gideon asked, trying not to sound worried. Henry didn’t make proclamations lightly. Whatever it was, she was serious about it.
“It’ll take a gentle touch and a bit of finesse, but I think Rem and Flannery need a little help along the path to happiness. I understand they might be scared and I know exactly how they feel, but would I be a very good friend if I let them play it safe, and possibly regretting their choice for the rest of their lives?”
“Because life has loveliness to sell,” he said, quoting ‘Barter’, the poem she’d read to him that day on the mountain.
She scooted to the edge of the chair and he helped her stand up. “Exactly. So, spend all you have for loveliness. Buy it and never count the cost. For one white singing hour of peace count many a year of strife well lost.”
“And for a breath of ecstasy, give all you have been or could be,” he said, finishing the line. Gideon couldn’t help smiling down at his wife as she wavered, one foot barely touching the ground, determination flashing from her beautiful, deep green eyes. Slipping an arm around her, he kissed her softly. “If anyone can bring those two together, it’ll be you.”
“Of course, I might need a little help,” she said, leaning into him.
“Anything,” Gideon said. He wasn’t one to get involved in someone else’s personal affairs, and he took privacy to an absurd level in his own life, but if Henry thought Rem and Flannery needed a little push toward finding love, he was going to do his best to make that happen.
It was such a small thing.
Gideon held her gently and wondered how they could possibly get Rem or Flannery to admit they were in love. But if it brought Henry joy, then Gideon would do whatever it took. His past made her life so much harder than it needed to be. She should have married a different man, one who worried about taxes and the electric bill and that strange sound the car made, rather than one who needed a therapy dog to fight off the panic attacks and who lived under the perpetual specter of his misdeeds.
She would never agree with him and would be shocked if he ever said it out loud, but Henry deserved better. If Gideon’s fears came true and he was forced from his position, then their lives would change immensely. They would survive, of course. It was just a job. But he would have to make a living somehow, and there were only so many jobs in Natchitoches. They were also professional collaborators and their Cane River historical database was receiving a lot of attention. So far, his past as a convicted murderer hadn’t kept their project from being successful, but that could change, too. Everything would be in jeopardy.
***
Rem watched dismay cross Flannery’s face and he wanted to sink through the sidewalk, on down into the thick Cane River clay until he hit bedrock. There he’d stay, like a failed version of the Jules Verne novel, never needing to explain why he’d just said what he did.
“Not a… good idea?” Flannery looked around them, as if trying to find the answer to her question on the river front. The rain picked up and the sound was deafening on the awning above them. “Did you have someone else in mind?”
“Someone else?” It was his turn to repeat everything.
“I know Kathleen Oberhaus said she was looking for a place.”
Did she think he was going to have Kathleen move in after one date? He didn’t really like the woman and had taken her to a nice dinner only to appease his mother. Maybe he hadn’t made that clear when he’d told Flannery all about it the next day. “We’re not that serious. Not at all.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not a big commitment. It’s just an apartment.”
Rem put up a hand in the universal “hold your horses” gesture. Something was very amiss with the conversation. “Even if I were inclined to cohabitation― which I’m not and you know it― moving in together is a big deal.”
“Cohabitation?” She started to laugh but Rem didn’t join in.
“I’m not moving in with you. I meant the other apartment,” she said. Her laughter lasted about as long as it took her to remember his original answer. “But, wait a minute. Why would moving in with you be a bad thing? Are you saying I’d be a bad roommate?”
Rem wished he could rewind the conversation, all the way back to the moment she’d pointed upstairs. “Not at all, Pippi. It’d be fun.” He started toward the bookstore. “Come on, you’re going to be late.”
She didn’t move. “You’re a terrible liar, Rem.”
“Do you want to check it out, or not?” He didn’t wait for her. After a few seconds he heard footsteps and then she fell back into step with him. “You’ll be close to work. You may want to take the car until it stops raining, though.”
“Yeah,” she said and he could tell by her voice that she was still irritated and confused. Well, she would just have to get over it because Rem wasn’t going to revisit the conversation anytime soon. In fact, he was going to bury the whole episode deep in his subconscious as soon as he could manage it.
“Let’s go in.” He pulled the long brass handle of By the Book and swung open the door, barely registering the tinkle of the little brass bell tied with a ribbon. The old bookstore was one of his favorite places in the world but the warm, book-scented air didn’t have its usual calming effect. He motioned for Flannery to go first and as she passed him she glanced up and caught his eye. The confusion was still fresh on her face and he felt his heart squeeze in response.
As they stepped inside, he focused on the long aisles of solid wood shelves holding thousands of antique volumes. He remembered his parents bringing him to By the Book when he was just a kid. The old sconces on the walls, the iron work light fixtures, the tin type ceiling tiles, the black and white tiled floor― it hadn’t changed at all. Alice had preserved the bookstore with the same care she took with the leather-bound antique volumes in her collection.
Rem could hear the murmur of voices coming from the poetry aisle, and a young woman was curled up with a large paperback in the overstuffed chair by the front window. The large fireplace in the foyer was lit and two young girls sat in front of it, seemingly mesmerized by the flames. An elderly couple browsed the travel display, whispering excitedly as they selected a book on Italy.
The store was fuller than usual. Inclement weather usually brought out the readers. It seemed to put everyone in mind of a crackling fire, a hot drink, and a good read, and By the Book had all three.
Bix was at the fr
ont desk carefully removing a book from a brown cardboard box. His World War Two raincoat was hung on the rack next to his old straw hat, where it always was. Although his beard was neatly trimmed, his white hair tufted out a little at the sides, as if he’d been in a strong wind. Rem knew Ruby would be complaining about it if Bix didn’t let her give him a haircut soon. Completely blind for several years, Bix could no longer shelve or retrieve books, but he handled a surprising number of other tasks. Even if Patty, his seeing-eye dog, hadn’t arrived in his life when she did, Bix would have made a way to keep working. It was hard to keep a Creole man down. Especially an old, tough one like Bix. He’d been through a lot in his lifetime and although Bix gave the impression of a cheerful grandpa prone to giving embarrassing speeches about respecting women and going to confession, Rem had seen Bix lay down the law when necessary.
As they walked into the foyer, Flannery turned and said softly, “Before I go up there, you should let me know if you really don’t want me to take the apartment. I won’t be offended.”
Her brown eyes were filled with hurt but she was holding her head high. He’d forgotten what she looked like when she was trying to be brave. Maybe someone else would simply see a pretty girl with her hands on her hips and tension every line of her body, but Rem saw a raw vulnerability and it crushed him.
Chapter Five
“There is never a time or place for true love.
It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single flashing, throbbing moment.”
― Sarah Dessen
“We’re friends. I can take it,” Flannery said. When he didn’t respond, she went on. “Just because we’ve known each other forever, it doesn’t mean we―”
“Oh, look. There’s your grandpa.” Rem pointed behind her. He could hear the desperation in his own voice.
She didn’t turn her head. “He doesn’t know I’m here yet. Let’s just get this out of the way before anybody comes over to talk to us.”
He closed his eyes for a moment. Even though she stood in front of him demanding answers, there was no way he was going to tell her the truth. He wasn’t even sure what the truth was, exactly. Whatever was happening was painful and complicated, and he had a suspicion that if he treated it too flippantly, their friendship wouldn’t survive.
“Pippi, honestly, I just had visions of dealing with all the guys who want to date you and having to explain― more than I already do― that we’re just friends. Okay?”
Flannery narrowed her eyes at him. “Such a bad liar.”
“What do you want me to say? That I’m a neat freak and you like your stacks of paper? That I can’t take The Piano Guys on repeat for five hours straight? That you have that odd habit of buying another jar of mayo and leaving the old one in the fridge with just a little bit in the bottom?” He knew he was laying it on thick but fear was shoving words out of his mouth. Hurting her was so much easier than telling the truth and he hated himself for it. “That you can’t stand to have anyone talk to you for the first thirty minutes after you wake up? That you have a hundred post it notes all over the place to remind you of everything you need to do instead of using a planner like a normal person?”
Hurt and anger flashed in her eyes. “Oh, really? What about the way you always use the same mug, even if you have to wash it and there are ten other mugs that are clean? Or the way you start talking the moment you wake up? Or the way you have to put your keys on the left side of your phone when you put it on your dresser? Would anybody die if you put your keys on the right side of the phone? Or maybe in a different spot altogether? What about the way you organize your library books by title on your nightstand?” She barely paused for breath. “Really, Rem, who does that?”
“Hey, you two,” Charlie Soule said as she came through the front door. Rem’s cousin Austin followed right behind her.
“Lots of people organize their library books,” Rem said. “And it can’t possibly be an annoying habit because it doesn’t bother anybody. You’d think a librarian would appreciate organization. Not like the way you leave your shoes in front of the door as soon as you walk in and you never put them away. After a week, all the shoes you own are in a pile. Just like the coats on that chair. Why do you even have a coat rack in your house, Pip? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you hang up a coat in your life.”
Austin glanced from Rem to Flannery. He looked pained. “Happy Monday to you, too, Rem.”
Rem turned to shake his cousin’s hand, forcing a smile. “Bonmatin,” he said.
Charlie gave Rem a kiss on the cheek and said, “Hey, Flannery. Long time no see. What’s it been, fifteen minutes?” She laughed a little but Flannery didn’t even smile. She turned to Rem and kept on talking.
“How annoying is it to step over some shoes? Not at all. And they’re my coats so it doesn’t matter if I hang them on a chair or a hook, as long as I know where they are. Now, your insistence on using a tiny sugar spoon in the sugar bowl is annoying. It takes twenty of those to make my coffee tolerable. Why not just use a normal spoon?”
“Because it doesn’t fit in that little slot in the sugar bowl lid. And if you didn’t make your coffee sweet enough to choke a horse, the little sugar spoon would be perfect. Some people like to do things the right way, not the easy way just because they could care less.” Rem really didn’t feel strongly one way or the other about the sugar spoon. If she had brought it up on a different day, he would have chucked the little spoon, and probably the lid, too. But he felt as if he were locked in verbal combat and there was no way to step away.
“What on earth are you two fighting about?” Charlie asked.
Flannery stopped glaring at Rem long enough to glance at Austin and Charlie. “I thought you were going to lunch at The Red Hen.”
“Might be needin’ this,” Bix said, coming up behind them. Patty was leading the way, her tail wagging at the sight of Flannery. Patty was a professional and would never break out of her seeing-eye dog role, but she clearly loved a few people more than others and Flannery was one of them. Bix held out Austin’s wallet. He couldn’t see but he still had a good idea where Austin was standing.
“Merci, Bix. I can’t believe I did that.” Austin slipped it back into his pocket. “I’m real glad my head is attached to my shoulders and all that.”
Flannery let out a huff. “I’m sure your memory is better than mine. Apparently, Rem thinks I need a sitter so I don’t forget to put on pants before I leave my house.” She had turned back to him, eyes narrowed.
“How’s that, sha?” Bix asked. His bushy white brows drew down over his eyes. Even if he was a Southern gentleman and over eighty, Bix still wouldn’t take kindly to anyone being mean to his granddaughter. Even Rem.
“I never said you needed a sitter,” Rem said, holding up a hand.
“You said I use hundreds of post its, like I have a memory issue. Well, maybe I don’t need to keep a journal of my every movement, like it’ll be published posthumously to great acclaim,” Flannery said.
“Hey, Alice. We’re over here,” Charlie called out as Alice came around the corner from the children’s area. It couldn’t have been more obvious if she’d waved signal flags. Man overboard.
Rem frowned. “Memoir? Keeping a work journal is a great way to track progress and―”
“Feel useful. If you have to write down the day you filed your bills, you’re using it as an emotional prop, a way to get validation,” Flannery said.
“Validation? Better to get it from a journal than from facebook.”
“Are you saying I spend too much time on facebook?” Flannery’s tone was more offended than when he’d said her coffee could choke a horse.
“Just hold up now,” Bix said. “Maybe I missed the important parts of this conversation but it seems like you both need to simmer down. And as for facebook, I like goin’ on there and I can’t even see it.”
“Facebook is going to be the end of civilization as we know it,” Alice said as she walked over, one of the babies
in her arms. She was only partly kidding. Alice’s aversion to technology ran as deep as her Creole culture. Rem was sure if Alice had the power to abolish social media, she’d use it. Although she’d warmed to how technology could help the disabled and assist education, Alice was still happiest in a world without selfies or tweet wars.
The little baby kicked her pudgy legs and Rem tried to decide whether it was Emily Jane or Elizabeth. He could never tell the twins apart even though their nanny, Rose Chalfant, swore they were complete opposites. This one had tiny black pigtails and was sucking on her hand. As they got closer, he could see the baby’s shirt read ‘Pay No Attention to the Man Behind the Curtain’ and had a pair of glittery red shoes.
“I don’t get my validation from it. I just like the cat videos.” Flannery crossed her arms over her chest. “Maybe you should just unfriend me if my facebook habits are so annoying to you.”
There was a collective intake of breath. Rem hadn’t reacted but inwardly he was cringing. He didn’t care about facebook but the term ‘unfriend’ struck a chill in his soul.
“Hold on one cotton pickin’ minute. What’s goin’ on here? What did you do?” Bix frowned in Rem’s direction.
“Not to worry, Bix. They’re just getting an early start,” Charlie said and nudged Austin with her elbow. “We better get going or you’ll have to take your lunch back to the justice center.”
Austin took Charlie’s hand and headed for the door. He glanced back at them, trying not to smile. “Alice, you were right. And she hasn’t even moved in yet.”
Until Winter Comes Again: (An Inspirational Contemporary Romance) (Cane River Romance Book 6) Page 4