These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance

by Hathaway, Mary Jane

  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.

  Chapter Four

  “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.”