“No judging,” Henry said, glad that Patsy couldn’t tell when she lied.
A few minutes later they moved through the crowd around the main band, dodging dancers’ elbows and loosely held red plastic cups. The crowd was bigger and louder than Henry remembered it from her visits when she was little.
“There they are,” Patsy said, waving across the dance floor at Denny. He was dancing with Jack, swinging him low, grinning at the baby’s wide open-mouthed laughter. Bix and Ruby were dancing nearby in matching western shirts and jeans. Henry decided they were the cutest old couple in the state, maybe the country. Blue was leaning against a post, as handsome as ever in a black Tshirt and jeans.
They made their way toward them, cutting through a little strip of grass where the trees were decorated with twinkle lights. Henry looked around, memories of her childhood and teen years washing over her. She’d always come to the festival and danced but she couldn’t ever really remember having a good time. Patsy was always good company but Henry would have rather been somewhere else. Tonight was going to be different.
“You look beautiful,” Blue said, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Let’s sit over here until they start the next song.”
He didn’t give her the chance to respond but tugged her toward a row of tables. Patsy and Denny followed behind. As they settled in chairs, Denny looked past the band to the rows of booths. “I need some meat pies. Anyone else?”
“Me,” said Henry, reaching into her pocket for cash but Denny waved it back. “Just hold Jack for me and don’t let my wife dance with any hot guys,” he said.
“Sure thing.” She accepted the baby with a smirk. As soon as Denny was out of ear shot, she leaned over to Patsy. “I wonder what cute guy we can rustle up for you.”
Patsy giggled. “He’s not teasing. He’s got a jealous streak a mile wide. That’s something I love about him.”
“Really?” Henry asked. “I’ve never seen jealousy as a positive trait.”
“A little bit goes a long way, that’s for sure. But I don’t know how to explain it.” Patsy got a dreamy look on her face. “We’ve been married four years and there are days I feel like we’re an old couple already. Sometimes it’s nice to know he’s still worried over a little competition.”
“Girls love being fought over. In fact, some girls do their best to make a guy jealous,” Blue said.
Henry frowned. “I’ve never been fought over, but jealousy doesn’t feel great so I don’t know why a girl would provoke it on purpose.”
“Awww. You are so cute,” Patsy said, reaching over and patting her hand. “Someday you’ll understand.”
Henry rolled her eyes. She doubted that she would ever yearn to make anyone jealous. That’s not what nice people did.
“Whew,” Ruby said, dropping into a chair beside Henry. “That dancin’ sure takes it out of a body.”
“Can I get you a cold drink?” Blue was already standing. “And Bix? What would you like?”
“Mighty nice of you to offer, son. Sweet tea is fine for the both of us.” Bix watched Blue walk away and then took his seat. “That’s good raisin’, there.”
“Sure is,” Ruby said. “I couldn’t have picked a better man for ya, Henry.”
“We just met. I hardly know him.” This is the way it went in a small Southern town. One date you were practically on your honeymoon. “I think he’s nice, though,” she added.
“Nice?” Ruby leaned forward, her dark eyes wide. “If he don’t float your boat, it’s better to let him go now, cher.”
Henry opened her mouth but then didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t well explain that Blue was plenty attractive to her. Also, Ruby had a point. On the scale of one to ten in boat floating, Blue would be a solid three. He might grow on her but she certainly didn’t want to lead him on just to see if it was true. Instead of answering, she turned her head and looked at the crowd, pretending to find interest in the dancing couples.
She saw Father Tom first, then Gideon. They were talking to a young couple with two small children. Gideon, had his arms crossed over his chest and was a little farther away from the couple than Father Tom. She wondered if it was because of the kids, or if he was that remote with everyone. As if in answer to her question, a young woman walked up to them and the little circle widened.
Gideon glanced at her once, uncrossed his arms and a small smile touched his lips. Henry gave the woman another look, noting her long blond hair, shapely legs that seemed to go on forever. The woman said something and put her hand on Gideon’s arm, turning her face so Henry got a better view. She wasn’t as young as Henry thought but closer to late twenties and just a few inches shorter than he was. Gideon turned, said something in return and the woman threw her head back and laughed. She was positively beautiful. Radiant. They looked like a couple from a glossy magazine.
“Did you hear me, Henry?”
“Sorry, what?” She felt her face go hot.
“I said we should invite your friend Gideon over here,” Patsy repeated. She had a little smile on her face. Henry narrowed her eyes. Patsy was aiming to make someone jealous when Blue came back. Which of the three of them it was, Henry didn’t know.
“I think they’re fine where they are,” she said and didn’t care if she sounded rude.
“Well, it seems they don’t because they’re headed over here,” Bix said. He punctuated this by waving his hand over his head in case they hadn’t seen them.
A few seconds later, Gideon, Father Tom and the beautiful blond were standing at their table. It took a little while for everyone to be introduced and greeted, but in the end, they tugged another table over and it became one happy group, with one very uncomfortable member. Henry pasted a smile to her face and tried to look like she was having a wonderful time.
“So, Alanna, how are the kids?” Father Tom asked.
Henry felt a rush of relief. The woman had kids, was probably married.
“They’re really progressing. It’s only been a few months but I’ve seen some real changes.” She looked around the group. “I’m a mental health counselor for kids in crisis, kids who’ve been taken into foster care.”
“That’s a tough job,” Patsy said.
“But I love it.” Alanna smiled. “See, I work at one end, and Gideon works at the other.”
“The other?” Henry asked.
“I mentor recent parolees at the juvenile justice center,” he said.
Henry wondered how long Gideon had been working there. He hadn’t said anything. But then, she hardly knew him.
“Of course, I love history, too. I think the archives are just fascinating,” Alanna said.
Lie.
Henry let out a tiny sigh. Even without the self-conscious way Alanna rubbed her nose, Henry would have spotted that lie a mile away. She looked up to see Gideon’s gaze fixed on her, one side of his mouth pulled up. She shook her head, wishing she hadn’t been so obvious. It was a small lie. Nothing important. Henry needed to give people a little room to throw out their social niceties.
But Alanna didn’t seem to know when to stop. “I’ve always been interested in history. It was my best subject in college. I have so many history books. Oh, and I love those shows on the History Channel. I could watch those all day.” She paused to rub her nose. “Some weekends I just curl up on the couch with some tea and watch those documentaries.”
Lie.
“You love those, too. Don’t you, Sherlock?” Patsy asked.
Henry refused to look at her. Patsy could be so obvious sometimes. “I really enjoyed the Ken Burns series on baseball.” There. That would throw them into a different topic.
“You like baseball?” Gideon asked.
“Well, no. But the history of it was fascinating,” Henry said. She turned to Alanna. “I know how you feel. A good documentary is a great way to spend the weekend.”
“Sure. Right.” Alanna slid a glance her way, as if she were expecting Henry to invite her over for a PBS special a
nd sleep-over at any moment.
“You should join the Cane River Preservation Society,” Ruby said. “Bix and I spend a lot of our evenings sorting through donations and organizing things for the archive exhibits. Gideon’s real kind to let us be part of his volunteer crew.”
“Kindness has nothing to do with it,” Gideon said, fixing Ruby with a look. “I can trust you two with irreplaceable treasures. You know the value of a hundred year old letter that mentions a freed slave business. You understand that there might be just one photo of a family per generation.”
“That sounds like so much fun,” Alanna said, her voice high and breathy. She turned to Gideon. “You should bring me to one of your society meetings. How often do y’all get together? Every week?”
“We meet once a month,” Gideon said, his eyes still fixed on Henry. His smile had faded, as if he somehow knew that her stomach was in knots.
Alanna seemed to sense she was losing his interest and redoubled her efforts. “I don’t spend all my time watching documentaries, of course. I do go out every now and then. In fact, I was invited to a party just last night that was packed with celebrities. It’s amazing how down-to-earth these people are. They’re just like us, really.”
Henry felt a sense of foreboding. Please, don’t.
“Kimberly Gray was there.” She said this triumphantly, as if being in the same room with her was an award. “We’re very good friends. You know she’s from Natchitoches? I’ve even spent the holidays with her family here.”
“You mean, her parents and sister and… niece?” Patsy asked.
A flicker of uncertainty crossed Alanna’s face. She rubbed her nose. “Right. All of them. Wonderful people.”
Henry closed her eyes for a moment. This was one of her worst nightmares, trapped in a conversation like a poker game, everyone holding their cards close to their chests, wanting to know what they others were hiding, looking to her for clues. As much as she hated a liar, she also felt a kinship with them. They were the same, way down deep where insecurities whispered terrible things and doubts cast long shadows.
Gideon stood and stepped away from his chair. “Henry, would you like to dance?”
There was a long moment where Henry just stared up at him as if he’d started speaking German again. They’d talked about dancing, hadn’t they? Neither of them really enjoyed it. But to refuse would be twice as embarrassing as actually dancing.
“Of course,” she said brightly.
She avoided Patsy’s gaze as they took their leave. Side by side, they walked toward the dance floor packed with couples. Zydeco dancing was something of a cross between jitterbugging and swing and the waltz. It looked simple, but demanded a certain level of finesse, especially if you were trying to look somewhat suave and graceful. They stood together on the end of the dance floor and Henry couldn’t decide whether she’d rather go back and listen to more lies, or get on the dance floor and look ridiculous in front of Gideon.
“I can’t really―.” She started at the same time as he did.
“I’m not very―”
“― dance at all.”
“― good at this,” he said.
“Well, that’s out of the way.” He looked down at her, a smile creasing his face. “You look beautiful,” he said.
Her stomach dropped into her shoes. “Thank you.”
“Was that the wrong thing to say? I meant well.”
There was a moment where she considered changing the subject but then said, “I know you did. It’s just that I hear how pretty I am when I take my glasses off. It’s even worse when I take my hair down. It’s not really me that people are seeing, but her. To everyone, I look just like my aunt.”
“To me, you look like yourself,” he said.
She couldn’t fight the warmth that spread through her and turned to watch the dancers. Blue must be watching them from the table, wondering why they were simply standing there talking. “Should we jump in?”
“I think this song is almost over. Do you know it?”
She shook her head. “It’s familiar. “
“This guy played with Clifton Chenier and the Louisiana Ramblers a long time ago. I remember watching him… before.”
She knew he meant before he’d gone to prison. He’d been so young. She couldn’t imagine a fifteen year old Gideon.
“You never ask me about it,” he said, as if sensing her thoughts. “About the man I killed and the time I spent in prison.”
“Do you want me to?”
They were facing each other now. Even though the music was loud and they had to raise their voices to be heard, it seemed as if they were alone. “It’s usually the first thing people want to discuss.”
“I’ve spent my whole life knowing more than I wanted about everyone. I’ve learned not to ask questions unless I really want to know the answers.”
At that moment the song wound down and the dancers paused in their places. “This is our chance,” he said, and took her hand.
Henry stepped with him onto the dance floor. The leader of the band held a hand up to his ear, inviting song requests and although Henry tried to think of something, all she could feel was Gideon’s hand in hers.
“Beaux Bridge Waltz,” Gideon called out.
The band leader let out a whoop and repeated Gideon’s request into the microphone. The crowd murmured, laughter rising on the night air. Couples shifted, some changing partners, some staying put. Henry glanced up at Gideon and hoped she didn’t look as nervous as she felt.
She’d thought some swing would be nerve-wracking. A waltz was a whole different beast.
Chapter Twelve
“If you do not tell the truth about yourself you cannot
tell it about other people.”
― Virginia Woolf
Gideon turned to face her, and she stepped into the circle of his arm. She felt his other hand settle against her lower back and she was eye level with his collar bone. They stood so still she could see the pulse in his throat and she turned her head, not knowing where to look. Couples were arranging themselves around them. Henry wondered how they could be so at ease, as if they weren’t inches away from each other.
He smelled like soap and something wonderful. She’d never been close enough to him to really get a good sniff. An image popped into her head of sticking her face into his shirt and a sharp laugh escaped.
“Something funny?” He glanced down at her.
“I’m sorry. I’m just nervous.”
“Don’t be. It’s only me.” He squeezed her hand.
The band started with the sweet, slow movements and they moved together, keeping on the fringes of the crowd and out of the way.
“You didn’t have to rescue me from the conversation,” she said.
He was looking somewhere over her head but he knew what she meant. “You looked miserable.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to be rude.”
He looked into her eyes and there was a frown between his brows. “You keep apologizing.”
“I wasn’t judging her.”
“I was,” he said. “How hard is it to tell the truth to a bunch of strangers? Nobody cares if you like history.”
“I thought you knew her.”
He swung her around another couple and they moved toward the center of the group. “I’ve met her before.”
“She only wanted to impress you.” Henry understood perfectly. “The day I met you, I’d rehearsed and rehearsed what I wanted to say.”
“But then you found out I was an ex-con and decided it wasn’t worth the effort.” His words were teasing but there was a note of something else in his voice.
She let go of her speech when she realized he was going to speak to her without pretense. She’d answered his honesty with her own. “The lying, it’s really not that unusual. People usually lie to impress someone. You should take it as a compliment.”
“Like you do when someone lies to you on a date?” His eyes were fixed on someone ou
t in the crowd but his words were just for her.
Every lie stung. It was even more painful when all you wanted was transparency. But Alanna was probably steaming. She’d thought she was making headway with Gideon until he’d stood up and walked away with another woman. She looked for something nice to say. There was nothing worse than a woman who tore down another woman once they were out of ear shot.
“Alanna’s very pretty. And nice.”
“She is,” he said. He was quiet for a moment and they turned toward the end of the dance floor. “But I’m not interested.”
She wanted to ask why, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. For a few seconds, she thought he wasn’t going to explain.
“It’s not the lying,” he said. “It’s more than that. There are a lot of pitfalls when you’re a convicted felon. Some are obvious. Some are a little harder to spot. Social interactions are a veritable minefield of pending disasters.”
“How so?” Henry was glad when he led them back away from the speakers. She wanted to hear him, not just his words but the meaning underneath.
“Alanna is a lovely woman, but she’s a professional therapist. She’s a fireman looking for a fire. She saves people for a living.”
“And you don’t need anyone to save you.” There was a question there and it occurred to her that she was breaking her own cardinal rule. Never ask a question if you don’t want to know the answer.
“Do you?” He threw her a look.
Henry laughed out loud. “Ouch.”
“I’m not trying to offend you.”
“I’m not offended. I can see your point. I wouldn’t feel flattered if someone was attracted to me just because they thought I needed therapy.”
“And it’s more than that. Let’s say Alanna and I decided to…” His voice trailed off and Henry smiled a little.
“Date?” she offered.
“Right.” He guided her around a corner filled with couples. The singer was ending another verse and Henry felt a stab of urgency. She wanted to hear what Gideon had to say, wanted to know why he didn’t think beautiful, smart, cheerful Alanna was a good match for him. Part of her knew it was none of her business, but the other part was desperate to hear his reasoning. The singer launched into the first verse again.
These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance Page 14