Chapter Nineteen
Never tell the truth to people who are not worthy of it.
― Mark Twain
“How are you?” Henry held out a hand to Father Tom, trying not to look too obvious. She glanced around, wondering where Gideon was hiding. She knew he went to St. Augustine’s but maybe he’d gone to a Saturday night service.
“Wonderful. And I haven’t seen him this morning.” He shaded his eyes and peered at the few stragglers exiting the church. It was silly to look twice. The church only held about fifty people and it was only about that half that many each service. “I’ll try to call him in a bit. You want me to pass on a message?”
“Oh,” Henry said, her face going warm. Maybe he’d gone to the basilica because she’d said she would be there with Kimberly. Another stab of guilt went through her at the thought of her mother. She’d hoped sometime during church she’d feel a little bit better at about what she’d said, but the memory sat heavy in her stomach like a stone. She tightened her ponytail until it hurt and put on a smile. “No, no message.”
“Don’t worry. He’s probably under the weather. Or avoiding me because he knows another trip for the retired priests is right around the corner and I always make him drive for us.”
“The what?”
Father Tom paused to shake the hand of a middle aged couple and then said, “The retired priests of Natchitoches parish have a few outings, just a day trip to see something new. Next Saturday, they’re headed to Mount Driskill. Have you been there?”
“No, I don’t think I have.”
“Excellent. We needed another driver,” Father Tom said, a carefully innocent expression on his face.
“Tricky. I’m almost sorry I asked, except that it sounds like fun.”
“Well, I’m not sure how fun it will be, but I’m serious about needing another driver. The last trip we fit everyone in two cars, but some of them are getting pretty fragile. I think they’re most comfortable in a reclining seat, and definitely not three to a back row. We’ll only have eight this year, since we lost Father Louis this spring.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. And I’d be glad to help.”
“Good,” he said. “I knew I could count on you. It’s about an hour on 155 North, so not too far. I’ll bring some picnic food and after we eat, we’ll head back.”
“Okay, I’m in.” Henry looked around one more time. “I’d better get back. I think I’m expected at my grandparents’ house for brunch.”
“Tell Birdie and Frank hello from me. And Kimberly,” he added before turning and heading back up the stairs.
Henry’s stomach dropped. She was going to have to face Kimberly sooner or later, and if she didn’t skip brunch then it would be sooner. She trudged toward the car, willing herself to think positively. Maybe everything had blown over by now and life would go back to normal. Kimberly would swoop in, annoying her to pieces, and then jet back to Los Angeles. Just like always.
She repeated those thoughts to herself but she knew, deep down, that nothing was ever going to be the same. The truth was out and there was no way to cover it up again.
***
“You’re in big trouble,” Tom said as he walked inside Gideon’s living room.
“Make yourself at home.” He didn’t look up from his book and didn’t move his legs from where he was stretched out on the couch. “No, really. You don’t have to knock. Let’s get past all those pesky social conventions.”
Tom didn’t stop, but went through the living room and into the kitchen. “Church skipper. You’re here at home reading sad poetry while I’m slaving away. Nobody laughed during my sermon. You’re supposed to be there to laugh at my jokes.” His voice was muffled a little, as if he had his head in the fridge.
Gideon didn’t respond. Tom didn’t usually tell jokes during his sermons and he certainly had a perfectly receptive audience when he did.
Tom returned holding a Coke and flopped into a chair. “So, explain yourself. Your parish priest demands a justification of your absence.”
“I think I have cold drinks in the fridge,” Gideon said, waving a hand from behind his book. “Help yourself. Don’t be shy.”
“Well, I shouldn’t say that nobody laughed. Henry did,” Tom said. “Henry, looking perfectly lovely as always, was at church. And you, big brother, were not.”
He knew Tom was pulling out all the stops now. Gideon couldn’t hold on to whatever was bothering him when he called him that. “I thought she was going to the minor basilica.”
“So, you weren’t avoiding her?”
“Why would I?”
He settled back against the chair and gave him a long look. “I figured your sudden absence had to do with some sort of girl problem.”
Gideon rolled his eyes at the ceiling. Henry wasn’t a girl. She was a woman. But he didn’t bother to clarify that point.
“If it’s not Henry, what is it? You don’t appear sickly and this is probably the first time you’ve skipped church in…” He paused to think back. “Ever.”
He shrugged and went back to his book of poetry. In his peripheral vision, he could see Tom staring, motionless. He pretended Tom didn’t exist and tried to read. Here is a wound that never will heal, I know, being wrought not of a dearness and a death, but of a love turned ashes and the breath gone out of beauty. He read the same lines four times and wished he could move the book up a little higher to block out Tom, but didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.
Several minutes passed, while he turned pages and tried to focus. Edna St. Vincent Millay always soothed him but today it was a struggle to comprehend even the most familiar lines. What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten. Which reminded him of how Henry had jumped away from him at Oakland Plantation, but then kissed him just yesterday morning. He would never forget it. Could never forget it. Even though it was likely the only kiss he’d ever get, now that he knew he couldn’t trust himself.
Tom hadn’t moved a muscle. He might not have even blinked. Gideon became increasingly aware of how loud his own breathing sounded in his ears. Finally, he snapped the book closed and sat up in one movement. “Fine. You win.”
Tom took a slow sip of Coke. “I don’t know how you survived prison. I didn’t even say anything.”
“I’m a terrible person and that will never change.”
“And you came to this realization sometime between Friday afternoon and this morning? Unrelated to anything else?”
Gideon slumped, staring at his feet. He told the whole ugly story of nearly killing Reggie and forever scarring little Nathan. “I was supposed to be helping him. I was his mentor,” he finished. He could hear the disgust in his own voice. “I’m a killer. There’s no use pretending I’m anything but a killer.”
Tom let out a long breath. “I thought we were past this.”
“No, I didn’t understand the true nature of the situation. I confessed to committing a mortal sin. I didn’t realize I was permanently…” Damned. He couldn’t say the word. “There’s a part of me that can never change. It’s useless to sit there and pretend I’m anything but what I am.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.”
Gideon glared at Tom. “You asked. I’m telling you.”
“Know what? I’m not going to debate theology with you because you’re perfectly aware that what you just said is complete horse puckey.” He sat up and held up a hand. “No, it is. But I will tell you what’s really going on and you’re not going to like it.”
“Nothing can change the truth,” he said. “Say whatever you want.”
Tom’s face turned hard. Gideon rarely saw him angry, not this kind of angry. “You did something bad― which actually, has some redeeming points but I’ll leave that for later. So, you did something bad, and you’re upset with yourself and instead of acting like a mature person about it, you’re sulking. You’re disappointed in yourself and you’ve decided to sit on your couch and have a pity party.”
“Pity―?
” Gideon felt fury rising inside.
“Yes, wah wah. Complain. Whine. I just hope you don’t take another seven years to get your head on straight.”
“It’s not the same. This is different.”
“How? Tell me how,” Tom said.
Gideon flashed back to the minutes before he saw Reggie. “I thought… just for a moment, I thought there was a chance that I could have a family.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t realize that I’m not that kind of man. I have to pay for what I’ve become.”
“By refusing to live a normal life?”
“Oh, you should talk.” He tried to make it a joke, but there was a layer of bitterness in his voice.
Tom sat back as if he’d been punched. “Do you think I’m living a stunted life, Gideon? You think I’m hiding from the world? You think the fact I had a horrible childhood made me choose the priesthood?”
“No.” He saw how Tom opened his heart to the families in the parish, how he made himself available in any way he could, at all hours. Tom didn’t have a wife or kids but he seemed like he was part of every family, not just one. “No, I don’t. I’m sorry.”
Tom spoke more softly. “So, are you refusing to consider Henry as a punishment to yourself? You think you have to be alone forever?”
“First of all, Henry is my friend. A really good friend.” He stared down at his feet. “The best friend I’ve ever had besides you, but I don’t know what she feels.”
“Gideon, are you seriously in the dark about whether Henry cares for you? I don’t think I’m breaking any confidences here when I say she does. Everybody can see it.”
His chest constricted for a moment and he wasn’t sure if he was happy or scared or both. “But because she cares for me doesn’t mean that I’m the right person for her. She deserves...” He thought of Blue. “Someone who hasn’t done what I’ve done. Someone innocent.”
“Sorry to burst your bubble, but that guy doesn’t exist. Not that I’ve seen. And someone who wants to be a good person is a whole lot better than some kid who just hasn’t had his crack at depravity yet.”
“But what happened yesterday proves that I shouldn’t be with her. I’m dangerous.”
Tom set down his Coke. “I know why that happened.”
“So do I. I have a violent streak and a temper, and people will get hurt if I let my guard down.”
“No.” Tom seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “I don’t think you’re a naturally violent person. I think that situation touched on some memories you’ve never really worked through.”
Gideon sighed. Tom was always recommending he go to therapy and talk about his childhood trauma. Gideon couldn’t think of anything worse than sitting down with another person and trying to explain what happened that night. Just the thought of it made him break out in a cold sweat.
“The kid was threatened and you reacted,” Tom said. “You’re seeing only the violent part of it and yes, we can all agree that strangling the parolee you’re mentoring is not a great move, but I see it a different way. You were trying to protect that boy, Gideon. You saw yourself in him.”
Please, don’t hurt my daddy. Gideon closed his eyes, feeling sick to his stomach.
“Until you work through those memories, I think they’ll still creep up on you,” Tom said. “You’ll think you have a handle on everything and then you’ll lose it, and you won’t know why.”
Gideon stood up and paced the room. “None of this makes sense. I wasn’t having any trouble at all. Not for years and years. Everything was under control.”
“Everything was under control because you had your coping mechanisms in place. But it’s different now.”
Coping mechanisms. He hated it when Tom talked like a psychologist.
“But why? Why now?” Gideon couldn’t keep the despair from his tone. “Just when I thought there was a chance for a different life, everything has to start falling apart.”
He let out a soft laugh. “Don’t you see? It’s all connected. Something― or someone, made you reconsider your hermit-like existence. It started the process,” Tom said. “You can’t go back now, Gideon. You can’t put the poop back in the horse.”
The impossible task. Vince always said that and Gideon remembered how it always made them laugh as kids.
“If I can’t go back, what do I do?”
Tom was quiet for a moment. “You have to decide. Certain things could trigger a violent outburst, make you do something you wish you hadn’t. Do you stay where you are, trying to avoid anything that might set you off? Or do you move forward?”
Gideon looked at his hands, wishing there was some wisdom written there, some sign. “Moving forward sounds good when you say it like that. Sounds real simple.”
“You know it won’t be a good time, that’s for sure,” Tom said. “But you have to make a choice. Is she worth it? Do you try to get to the bottom of what happened and see if you can find some peace? Or do you turn away from someone who loves you?”
Love. He wanted to ask Tom if he really thought Henry loved him, but he couldn’t.
Tom went on, “Sure, you could try to backtrack from your friendship, or whatever it is. Get some distance. But eventually she’ll move on and you just might regret choosing the easy way out of this.”
Gideon tried not to think of how he’d feel watching Henry move on with someone else. He didn’t even have to consider it. He would do anything to have a chance with her. But as much as he dreaded reliving what happened that cold, dark night when he was five, there was something else that scared him even more.
If he took that step, it would be the Domino that toppled all the issues he’d so carefully set aside. Sally and Vince, Austin- all those pieces would start to wobble. He couldn’t hope to fight his demons and leave all of that unresolved. Healing didn’t work that way. It demanded more, it gathered the hurt and disconnected bits inward until everything was complete. And that wouldn’t be painless.
“Okay,” he said.
“Okay?”
“You know I never take the easy way,” Gideon said a mixture of fear and hope rising in him.
“Understatement, my friend.” Tom walked toward Gideon, wrapping him in a hug. He thumped him on the back a few times, let go and walked to the door.
“Oh, and I’m glad you’re not avoiding Henry because she’s coming with us next Saturday. If you haven’t made your move yet, I think it would be a perfect time. Nothing says romance like a nature hike, a scenic view and seven elderly priests.”
Chapter Twenty
The sun, the moon, and the truth― three things that can’t stay hidden.
― Old proverb
“So, when are y’all going out?” Patsy’s voice was muffled and Henry could imagine her holding the phone against her shoulder, carrying Jack in one arm and the diaper bag in the other.
“I’m not sure. We never got that far.” Henry actually hadn’t let him finish his sentence.
“Oh, really?” Patsy drawled out the word. “No need for words, huh? I get where you’re going. No need to elaborate, Sherlock.”
“Funny. That’s not what I meant. We were standing on the street and I was late so, I’m sure he’ll call me.” At least, she hoped he would. She hadn’t seen him Sunday and it was already Thursday morning and she hadn’t heard anything. “This isn’t junior high. I’m not sitting by the phone.”
“Sure. Of course not. That would be silly.”
Henry sometimes hated how well Patsy could guess Henry’s state of mind. “When are y’all coming back to town?”
“Friday morning. Could you get the afternoon off? We should do some shopping. And I don’t mean just hit the book stores. I mean shoes.”
“For an entomologist, you sure do a lot of shoe shopping,” Henry said.
“It hurts me that you think those two things are exclusive,” Patsy said. “Of course, this is only if you don’t have to hang out with Kimberly.”
“No. I think she went home to Los Angeles
,” Henry said. She felt a surge of guilt at the words. Even though she’d been right and everything she’d said was true, she’d hurt Kimberly. When she closed her eyes, she saw Kimberly’s face filled with horror and pain. Patsy had been urging Henry to have the talk with Kimberly for years, but now that it had happened, Henry was too ashamed to tell her about it. Her neck went hot just remember her cruel words.
“Whenever Gideon decides to give you details, just let me know and we’ll work around it. Friday afternoon, if you can. Maybe even Saturday if I can get out from under my aunts.”
“Oh, I completely forgot. Saturday morning is out. I’m driving some retired priests to Mount Driskill for a field trip.”
There was a short silence. “I’m not even sure if I want to know the full story.”
“Well, Father Tom and Gideon are driving the other two cars, so it’s not like I’m stealing them away by myself,” Henry said.
“Hm.”
“Gideon isn’t the reason I’m helping out,” Henry said.
“Of course not. You always drive old priests on field trips.”
Henry decided she’d never win the conversation so she switched topics. “I’ll let you know, as soon as I hear anything.”
“Call me with all the details,” Patsy said. “I’m not kidding. Gideon is the most exciting thing that’s happened in years. I need all the news.”
“See you Friday.”
“With all the details,” Patsy reminded her.
“Sure thing.” Of course, Henry had no intention of doing anything of the sort.
***
Gideon replayed his conversation with Cora in his mind as he walked toward the Finnemore house. She’d agreed that his mentor relationship with Reggie had failed. Although she assured Gideon that he was still welcome to mentor and that she believed he wasn’t a violent man, he sensed her surprise and dismay. All he could do was reiterate his apology and state that he was working through some things. It had been a long time since he’d eaten so much humble pie.
These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance Page 23