“That could be awkward.” He voice had taken on a tone she couldn’t quite interpret.
“Most of the time, it’s nothing. Sometimes with family, there are things they don’t want you to know, things you wished you didn’t know and could just give back but can’t. Once you know the truth…” She couldn’t finish.
He nodded, as if he felt the weight of her sadness, the long years she’d carried the burden of other peoples’ lies. Standing up, he came over and gently took the picture from her fingers. “We should go,” he said.
She shuffled her papers into a pile and blew out the lamps. Gideon closed the door and locked it behind them, following her up the steps to the street. Henry was surprised to see the crowds of people on the river walk and the temporary booths that had sprung up on the grassy river bank. The hour she’d spent in the basement with Gideon seemed from another time, some other place.
They walked in silence for a while. When they reached By the Book, he touched her elbow and she turned to face him. She could tell he was saying something important but she didn’t hear the first few words. Her whole attention seemed focused on the place where his hand was touching her skin.
“―so I’m sorry if I’ve lied to you.”
Henry felt suddenly shy. It was strange to discuss it so openly, as if he’d found her looking through his diary and hadn’t been angry, but wanted to know what she’d thought.
“You never have, actually. You’ve never lied to me.”
The tight lines of his face relaxed. “Good. When you said everybody lied, I assumed that I had, somehow, even if I didn’t remember it.”
She bit her lip. This wasn’t the way the conversation was supposed to go. “You’re right. Everybody lies.” She looked into his eyes and felt her world teetering on the edge. Part of her was yelling to walk through her door and not look back. The other whispered soft reminders of all the years she’d wished for someone she didn’t need to hide from, someone who understood her.
He cocked his head, a question clear in his eyes.
“Everyone lies,” she said. “Except for people who have no one to love and nothing to lose.”
His hand dropped from her elbow and she felt its loss like a slap. He nodded, absorbing her words and not arguing their truth.
She didn’t know why, but the fact he didn’t argue made her angry. She wanted him to tell her that she was wrong, that he did have a weak spot somewhere. “And I know- I know it seems easier, with nothing and no one. It’s safer, right? But I don’t think we’re made to live that way.”
He looked over her head, as if unable to meet her eyes. “You sound like Tom. He seems to think the more people you love, the stronger you are.”
Henry nodded. She wished she could be someone who made deep and lasting friendships, who had a big family that would always be there. She wasn’t and that was a weak spot in her armor against the world. When things got bad, she didn’t have anybody to call but Patsy. She couldn’t imagine life without her, without anyone.
“I know this sounds terrible to you, but someday I hope you have something to lose,” she said.
“I guess you’ll know when I lie to you.” He smiled as he spoke, but his tone said that she shouldn’t hold her breath. “Goodnight, Henry,” he said, and walked away.
She unlocked the door and blindly made her way up the curving wooden staircase to the second floor. Her apartment was the second down a long hallway and when she made it to the door, she stood there, staring at the little golden numbers nailed to the front. Her breath hitched in her throat and she fumbled with the knob, trying to fit the key in the lock as tears blurred her vision.
Finally, the door swung open and she slipped inside, closing it tight behind her. She didn’t bother putting down her purse or taking off her shoes. She stood there for a long time, brushing hot tears from her cheeks and wishing she’d never told the truth.
****
Gideon shifted on the bench and fought to keep his eyes open. It was midnight on a Wednesday but the river walk was busier than if it were five in the morning. The Zydeco Festival was only a few days away and tourists were streaming in from all over. A couple strolled along arm in arm, kissing awkwardly as they walked, laughing softly at some secret joke.
As they passed, he felt an ache in his chest. Except for people who have no one to love and nothing to lose. She was right. He had carefully constructed a life that gave him complete freedom from risk. Tom was an exception, but only because Tom simply wouldn’t give up and it had been easier for Gideon to let him back in to his life than to keep fighting to keep him away. But he had never really allowed himself to rely on Tom.
The breeze from the river touched the back of his neck and he shivered. He understood Henry now. All the puzzle pieces fit together. She’d been cursed and had lived her life wanting to have friends, wanting to be close to her family, but she couldn’t. Except for Patsy, it seemed as if Henry was doomed to be a solitary person and it was no fault of her own.
Gideon had reveled in living distantly from every other person. He tolerated Tom. He avoided everyone else. He closed door after door, denied reconciliations, refused apologies. It was a point of pride that he didn’t need anybody or anything.
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hunching inward. He’d thrown away what Henry could only dream of and the shame burned through him like fire.
“You’re not very good at this bodyguard bit,” someone said. “You’re not even watching.”
Gideon looked up to see Tom standing there. He held out a thermos and a paper bag. “Brought coffee and some sandwiches this time. No sense in starving to death.”
Gideon stood up, sudden relief washing over him. He wrapped his arms around Tom and hugged him tight.
“Wow,” Tom said, his voice muffled. “You must really need the coffee.”
He let go and motioned to the bench. “I’m just glad to see you.”
Tom shot him a look. “Okay,” he said, and there was an entire paragraph of questions behind that word.
He poured out a cup of the steaming coffee and handed it to Tom. “She’s got to call Alice tomorrow. I can’t do this much longer.”
Tom gulped and swallowed, letting out a hiss of air. “Too hot,” he gasped. “And if we were smart, we’d take shifts.”
“If we were really smart, we’d have Bix call Alice so we weren’t sitting out here in the dark.” Gideon said. “But we were never the sharpest tools in the shed, right?”
“Huh. Speak for yourself.” Tom passed the thermos to Gideon. “How’s your new mentoring project?”
“Reggie?” Gideon shrugged. “He got a few interviews but no job yet. Every time I see him, he looks shiftier. I told him I wouldn’t work with him if he went back to his old friends and he agreed, but I’d bet a hundred bucks he’s still in contact with them. He was late to our meeting this morning and kept checking his phone like he was expecting a call. He’s on the edge, more than when he was first released.”
“How’s the son?”
Gideon shrugged. “He doesn’t mention him at all. I get the feeling things aren’t good there. But running around with the same people that got him into prison won’t help, either.”
“It’s hard to let go of old friends, even if they are a bad influence,” Tom said, elbowing Gideon just as he started to pour out a cup of coffee.
“You’re trying to get me to spill this on my lap, aren’t you?” He squinted at him. “Remember I’m a convicted felon who spends all his time lifting weights.”
“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.
&
nbsp; 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 of 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’s 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?”
These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance Page 13