These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance

by Hathaway, Mary Jane

  “Sorry about that,” she said.

  “No, it’s my turn,” he said. “I said being related to her wasn’t the worst thing in the world.”

  “You’ve seen the error of your ways?”

  He smiled, his dimples appearing. “Not quite.” He glanced back down the river walk. “I made a snap judgement. You’re so different. It’s hard to believe you’re kin.”

  She was thankful he’d used such a vague term. “Because I’m a messy crier?”

  “No,” he said. “But now that you mention it…”

  A vision of the front of his shirt, complete with wet spots, popped into her head and she was glad they could joke about it.

  “I have a question, and you can tell me if I’m being nosy,” he said.

  “Okay.”

  “Why no movies?”

  “Oh. Actors,” she said.

  He cocked his head.

  “Actors acting.” She searched for a way to explain. “They’re never quite good enough. It’s uncomfortable, watching them lie their way through everything.” She shuddered. “Especially the love scenes. Some of them downright hate each other.”

  “You’re fascinating, Henry.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that so she said nothing.

  “Is she gone?” Bix peered out the door.

  “Don’t be silly, Bix. She won’t eat you alive,” Father Tom said, stepping past him. “So, Henry, are you coming for crawfish on Friday?”

  “Yes, sir. And thank you for the invitation.”

  “Huh. You were right.” Bix nodded at Fr. Tom. “He said if he left you two alone out here, Gideon would convince you to come.”

  Henry felt her face go hot. “Well, I’d better get going. I’ve got a date and I’m still in my work clothes.” She waved as she slipped back inside By the Book, not waiting to hear their goodbyes.

  Okay, it wasn’t exactly a date anymore, but her pride stung. Her feelings were so obvious that soon people would stop assuming she was engaged to Blue, and switch their conjecture to Gideon. The only thing worse than having the small town rumor mill fixated marrying you off to the man you were dating, was for it to try and marry you off to the man you weren’t.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Men occasionally stumble over the truth, but most of them pick themselves

  up and hurry off as if nothing ever happened.”

  ― Winston S. Churchill

  Gideon settled into the hard wooden chair and stacked his papers neatly in front of him. The flame from the gas lamp shed a warm glow over the space. With the heavy door closed, he could hardly hear the occasional traffic outside. It was everything he’d always loved about the place and yet he felt uneasy, anxious.

  Henry was out on a date with Blue while he sat in a dark basement and that was okay. She was clearly afraid of him and that was okay, too. He couldn’t expect miracles just because he had feelings for her. Vince used to say ‘pigs get fed and hogs get eaten’. Gideon couldn’t be greedy or he’d ruin everything. One step at a time and maybe, just maybe Henry might think of him as more than a friend. Someday.

  Picking up a tattered picture, he peered at it with the magnifying glass. Two little girls stood next to a plow, their flour sack dresses hanging off thin figures. Adele Burel, Modeste Burel 1924. The names were familiar. Gideon pulled out his tablet and scrolled through the database. After the Burel name were nine letters, all in Creole French. He tapped the first, read the transcript and remembered the story. Sisters separated in childhood and Adele searched for her younger sister all her life. The second to last letter was from Modeste’s daughter to Adele. The two families had finally reconnected, fifty years after being separated, but it was too late. Modeste had died the year before.

  Gideon looked at the two little girls, thinking of how Tom had never given up on him, how he had written him for years. Even now, Tom would search for him if he ever wandered away. He was like an anchor in a world that could be as cold and merciless as the ocean.

  Henry believed she was invisible to her family, that they wouldn’t even notice if she disappeared. Maybe it was true. Kimberly wanted her around, but it seemed to be only for her own purposes. That day at the excavation site, Henry had spoken angry words, but her tears betrayed her. She grieved for the family she never had, as surely as the last letter written from Adele to Modeste’s family.

  Gideon tapped the link to the last letter and read it again.

  My heart is broken. I hoped to reunite with my dear sister and in my dreams it would be as if we were never separated. Now all that is left is seeing her in heaven someday.

  Tom had once told him that Sally still celebrated his birthday by baking a cake. Gideon had shaken off the comment. He couldn’t imagine his foster mother feeling anything other than anger and disappointment. Once she’d sent a letter back with Tom when he’d gone home for a visit but Gideon had never opened it. Every time he’d looked at it, he’d felt a wave of despair and fear, until he’d finally hid it in a box and stuffed it into the back of his closet.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket and he jumped. Henry’s skittishness about the basement was rubbing off on him. He pulled out his phone and saw it was Tom.

  “Are you picking up Bix and Ruby or should I?” Tom asked.

  “I will,” Gideon said. “What time did you tell Henry to be there?”

  “I never got a chance to say. You want to call her? Or you could just wander over to Oakland.” He could hear Tom smiling through the phone.

  “I’ll send her an e-mail.”

  “I think a face to face meeting is better,” Tom said. He clearly thought Gideon should take any excuse to run over and see Henry.

  “That didn’t go very well last time.”

  “How do you mean? She seemed fine this afternoon.”

  Gideon let out a long breath. Sure, Henry hadn’t run screaming down the sidewalk. “I think she’s afraid of me.”

  He held the phone away from his ear as Tom burst into laughter.

  “Remember when you told me to lay off the weight lifting? You were right.”

  Tom took a few more seconds to speak normally. “My friend, you’ve always told me you’re great at reading people. Now I know that’s a lie.”

  He shifted in the chair. “I know what I saw.”

  “Which was what, exactly? Please elaborate on how Henry is terrified of you, because what I saw yesterday wasn’t terror.”

  “It’s hard to explain.” Gideon felt his face go hot just remembering. “Let’s just say, when I got close to her, she almost hurt herself jumping away.”

  “Close to her? How close?”

  Gideon rolled his eyes at the ceiling. “You want a blow by blow of the entire conversation?”

  “Yes, sir.” Tom’s tone wasn’t teasing anymore. “I think Henry just might be the one person you can’t read.”

  He thought of the first time they’d met and how he couldn’t quite puzzle her out. “She was crying. I was hugging her. And then I…” He slumped in his chair. It was humiliating to admit. “I tried to kiss her and she jumped backward. It couldn’t be more clear if she had waved a chair at me.”

  There was a long pause. “Why was she crying?”

  “It wasn’t anything I did. It was something she was saying and it made her cry.”

  “Something about the site? History?”

  “No, no. Something personal.”

  “Got it.” Tom was smiling again. “So, definitely not talking about the weather.”

  “No. I guess we’re just not the type.”

  “And then you…. hugged her?”

  He didn’t answer. He knew what Tom was thinking. Gideon wasn’t a hugger. He wasn’t even a toucher. He could be perfectly happy not touching another human being ever. Or so he had thought.

  “And then you tried to kiss her.” Tom seemed to be mulling it over. “You thought that was a good time to make your move?”

  “I wasn’t thinking anything, obviously.” Gideon
hated the sharpness in his voice. It still rankled. He shifted a stack of papers and waited for Tom’s verdict.

  “Well, I’m no expert on women, but I do like to think I understand people. There could be a lot of different explanations. She was clearly struggling and maybe she reacted more from those emotions than anything to do with you. Also, she’s dating Blue. I reckon that might have some bearing on whether she’s running around kissing other men.”

  “She looked afraid.” He hated to say the words. Closing his eyes, he could see her expression so clearly. Her tear-streaked face, the dirt smudge on her cheek, her red and puffy eyes were all as clear as a picture to him.

  “Okay,” Tom said. But he clearly didn’t think Gideon had gotten it right. “So, that’s why you decided to invite her to dinner? She’s afraid of you and that’s your next step?”

  He knew what Tom was doing. He wanted Gideon to say it, to put words to his hopes. But people who did that were tempting fate. They were asking to be disappointed. “I don’t have a master plan, here. I just don’t want her to be afraid of me.”

  “That’s all?” Tom sounded smug.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Because you’ve always cared what people thought about you before.”

  Gideon sighed.

  “Okay, don’t get huffy about it. Here I thought we were trying to get her to dump Blue and take up with you, but instead we’re just going to make sure she’s just comfortable. I’ll be sure to tell Bix and Ruby about the change of plans.”

  He sat up straight. “You didn’t say anything to them, did you?” Bix was one of the most out-spoken men he knew and not always in a good way. Ruby was only a little less so. The two of them on a romantic mission was asking for trouble.

  “Gideon, I didn’t have to. Bix may be blind, but he can still see what’s right in front of him,” Tom said. “Anyway, let’s say seven. You pick them up. And relax. It’ll be fun.”

  “You know, I don’t think this such a good idea―”

  “Nope. Too late. See you at seven. And remember you’re going to be contributing to the conversation,” Tom said and hung up.

  Gideon put the phone back in his pocket and stared at the piles of papers in front of him. A month ago he thought he was starting to crack under some unnamed stress, acting out of character and yearning for change. Apparently, the few days he’d found to spend fishing with Bix and Tom hadn’t been enough because he’d just signed up for what could be the world’s most awkward double date.

  ***

  Henry re-read the last paragraph. A simple search of Gideon’s full, original name had brought up old news articles, and it was a story of unbelievable brutality and loss.

  She sat back, staring at the screen, unable to tear her eyes from the picture of a young Gideon. His hair was much lighter, but his eyes were the same dark blue. He laughed into the camera, arms wrapped around his mother’s neck. She was blond but with the same angled brows that made Gideon seem serious even when he was smiling. His father stood behind them, one hand on his wife’s shoulder. He looked much younger than his twenty eight years but maybe it was his wide smile that showed off familiar dimples. In his arms he held a baby with soft dark curls and a serious expression.

  Five year old is the sole survivor in triple homicide. Robbery is the suspected motive. Victims Theresa Hardy and Timothy Hardy were found deceased in their home by relatives. Gideon Hardy and Katie Rose Hardy were discovered the next day by fishermen on the banks of Red River. Katie Rose was declared deceased at the scene. Autopsies pending.

  Henry stood up and stared out at the red dirt and tufts of grass behind the Plantation. Her eyes burned and her chest felt so tight she had trouble taking a breath. Gideon said he was wary of people trying to fix him. She’d assumed he meant his past as a convicted murderer. There was much, much more to his story.

  Taking a shaky breath, she sat back down at the computer. This was her Pandora’s box. Once opened, the knowledge inside could never be forgotten. The moment she’d typed in his name, there was no turning back.

  She flipped to the next article. Duane Banner was convicted and sentenced to thirty years for the murder of the young Hardy family. Mark Daniels was convicted and sentenced to ten years for accessory. Henry frowned. Ten years seemed like a very light sentence for accessory. Ten years. Mark Daniels would be out now, maybe even living somewhere in the area.

  Henry searched the name plus LaFayette and murder. When the article came up, the first thing she noticed was Gideon’s name was now Becket. And then all the pieces fell into place and she sucked in a breath. Fifteen year old Gideon Becket will be tried as an adult in the LaFayette murder of Mark Daniels, who was recently paroled after serving a ten year sentence for the murder of ―

  She bolted from her chair and paced the tiny office. Her breaths were coming sharp and fast. He’d never offered to explain. He could have. Anybody would understand a young kid exacting revenge. Old enough to know better. That’s what he’d said the day they met. He’d offered no excuses.

  Henry put her hands to her cheeks and was surprised to feel them wet with tears. She didn’t know why she was crying. Maybe for the little boy who lost everyone he loved and was dumped in the river like a piece of trash. Maybe for the teen who was so consumed with rage he killed in revenge. Maybe for the man she knew today who carried the weight of that tragedy in one hand and his guilt in the other.

  At the Zydeco Festival he’d asked her why she never asked him any questions about it. Henry closed her eyes, remembering what she’d said. I’ve spent my whole life knowing more than I wanted about everyone around me. There was evil everywhere. Secrets and lies, brokenness and wounded people. She had never wanted to know more. She’d never set out to discover another person’s secrets.

  She took off her glasses and wiped her eyes. How ridiculous she must have seemed, crying over being Kimberly Gray’s daughter. She wondered what he’d been thinking as he held her and she sobbed at the unfairness of it all.

  ****

  Gideon toweled off his hair and stared into the mirror. He’d told himself all day that his nerves would settle down before supper time. That had been a lie. He went into the kitchen and grabbed his phone from the counter.

  “You’re calling to see if I need anything, right? You’re definitely not calling to cancel,” Tom said as he picked up.

  “I’ll bring Bix and Ruby, but I’m not staying.”

  “Sorry, can’t hear you over the sound of the water boiling. I’m hanging up now. We can talk when you get here,” Tom said.

  “I’m just not a social person. I never have been. You know that.”

  “You’ve sat through plenty of suppers before. And I really am hanging up now.”

  Gideon started to speak but there was a click and Tom was gone. He let out a growl and put the phone back on the counter. He still wasn’t staying. He didn’t want Henry to be afraid of him, but now that he was minutes from seeing her, he was convinced this wasn’t the way to do it. His nerves were frayed at just the thought of sitting across a table and making small talk. Forcing them both into a situation where they were uncomfortable was a terrible idea and would probably make everything worse. Add in one nosy old couple and Tom, and it just might be a recipe for alienating Henry for good.

  ***

  Henry parked in front of the little white house next to St. Augustine’s parish. She was early and she didn’t even know how it happened.

  Father Tom was lucky to live and work right on the Cane River Creole National Historic Park. She walked up the little path, inhaling the scent of late summer and Cajun spices. Her toes were feeling a little bit pinched in the new strappy sandals she’d chosen and she was glad there wouldn’t be much standing around. Kimberly always said to wear them around with a pair of socks for a few hours, just to make them comfortable, but as usual she hadn’t thought of her advice until it was too late.

  Henry smoothed down the skirt of her summer dress and hoped it wasn’t too fancy fo
r a cook out. Or too casual. It had been so long since she’d been to a crawfish boil that she hadn’t been able to decide whether to wear jeans and a T-shirt or something more for a garden party. She never spent much time on picking outfits but after half an hour, she’d finally been so irritated with her own indecision that she closed her eyes and grabbed the first thing she touched. It was a little less formal than she was used to, but the little tulips on the pale green fabric seemed cheerful and carefree, something she desperately wanted to be herself.

  The weather was perfect for an early September cook out and she’d decided to let her hair down this once. Although she’d been meaning to get to a salon, she never found the time and the blond now looked like highlights, overtaken by her natural dark brown color. She brushed the waves back from her face, glad not to feel the pinch of the perpetual ponytail.

  Father Tom must already be cooking. There was a little table set up with a red checked cloth and chairs. A plume of steam rose from somewhere just out of sight. Instead of knocking on the front door, she continued around the corner and spotted Father Tom seated in front of a bucket.

  He looked up as she called out a greeting and he waved an ear of corn. “I lost track of time. Did you knock?” He stood, wiping his hands on a dishtowel.

  She shook her head. “No, sir. Followed my nose.” She glanced around. “I’m early.”

  “You’re right on time. Gideon went to pick up Bix and Ruby. They’ll be here in a bit. The mudbugs are in the bag, waiting for the corn and taters to get cookin’. Have some sweet tea. Or a Coke from the cooler. Or a beer from the fridge, if you’re more of a beer person.”

  “Thank you,” she said and poured herself some tea. The cold, sweet liquid brought back a hundred childhood summer nights, when the neighbors would gather at one house or another and share the weekend catch or some later season corn.

  “Do you like to cook?” he asked.