These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance

by Hathaway, Mary Jane

  The sound of the rain faded away and she kissed him, letting herself be as honest as she’d wanted to be, letting her kiss speak for everything she was afraid to say with words. Her whole life she’d kissed with one part of her holding back, afraid to share too much or be too bold. Those movie scenes where two people were oblivious to the world, wrapped up in the sheer gloriousness of kissing, had always made her laugh. She understood now. Gideon tasted like rain and everything she’d ever wanted, and she raised her hands to cup his face.

  After a few minutes, he leaned back. The expression in his eyes reminded Henry of a show she once watched were people would do ridiculous things, like walk over hot coals or shave their heads in order to win a grand prize.

  She’d had good kisses and bad kisses and so-so kisses. But she’d never had someone look at her like she was the prize.

  “Can I touch you now?” she asked.

  “I… what?”

  “I’ve wanted to touch you for so long.” She traced his jaw, feeling the rain against his skin, the slight stubble of his beard rasping against her palm.

  “Yes,” he said and his voice was thick.

  She closed her eyes and sighed. Sliding one hand down to his chest, felt his steady heart beat and the warmth of his skin through his shirt. She opened her eyes and reached for his hand, bringing it up between them, threading their fingers together.

  “You have beautiful hands. Sometimes when we’re working, I have trouble concentrating because I just want to watch your hands.” She traced the veins on the back, then his knuckles, then the bone at his wrist. She turned his hand over and marveled at how much bigger it was than hers, how similar but so different they were. The rain dropped gently into his palm and she traced the lines with her finger.

  He cleared his throat and she looked up. Something in his expression made her realize she was acting as if she owned him.

  “I promise not to abuse the privilege,” she said, making her voice light but putting his hand back where it had been before. The rain was coming down harder, the drops sounding like extra beats between her words.

  He laughed. “I can’t imagine how you could.” He shifted his arm and bumped against her sweatshirt pocket. “What is that? Did you bring a book to read on our hike?”

  “No,” she said, her face going warm. She’d planned to give him his present at the summit, but now that they were here, shyness swept through her. “It’s not for me. It’s for you.”

  “You thought I’d be bored up here?”

  “It’s a birthday present, but I don’t think we can open it here.” She blinked up at the sky.

  “I’ll cover it,” he said and made a little shelter with his hands. “Please.”

  She withdrew the little volume from her pocket and tried to hand it to him but he shook his head.

  “I’ll be the umbrella,” he said and tilted his head to read the title. “Sara Teasdale poetry. Would you read one?”

  She thought of the poem she’d found in By the Book. It was shorter than she remembered. “It’s called “Barter” and prepare yourself, because it doesn’t end it heartbreak.”

  “Edna is turning over in her grave as we speak,” he said.

  She took a breath and read slowly, trying not to think of how the rain was falling harder and how Father Tom and the others must be waiting. “Life has loveliness to sell, All beautiful and splendid things,” she began. He was silent beside her and the slow movement of his chest was like punctuation to the phrases. She reached the line, “Scent of pine trees in the rain, Eyes that love you, arms that hold,” and threw him a glance, smiling shyly at how accurate those words were at the moment. The last stanza was nearly drowned out by the patter of fat drops falling everywhere around them, on the leaves of the trees, the ground, the metal bench, and them.

  Spend all you have for loveliness,

  Buy it and never count the cost;

  For one white singing hour of peace

  Count many a year of strife well lost,

  And for a breath of ecstasy

  Give all you have been, or could be.

  Henry closed the book and quickly tucked it back in her pocket. The rain was pouring down but Gideon made no move to shift her from his lap. Instead, he wrapped both arms around her and pulled her close, kissing her as if he wanted to taste the words that had just fallen from her lips.

  “Thank you,” he murmured against her mouth. “Thank you for that.”

  She took a breath, struggling to think straight. “Alice has a whole range of poetry books.”

  “Does she?”

  “Of course you know that.” She shook her head, laughing a little at how scattered her thoughts were, and a drop of rain made its way down to the end of her nose. She reached up and traced his lower lip with her thumb. “We should go,” she said, regret coloring her words. “If there weren’t a whole bunch of priests waiting for us―”

  “And if it weren’t raining buckets,” he said, kissing the drop from the end of her nose.

  “I don’t mind the rain, actually. I could sit out here forever with you.”

  “Says the girl with the hood.”

  “True,” she said, and stood up. He took her hand, linking their fingers together and started back down the path. “Maybe if we hurry, they’ll think we started back as soon as the rain picked up.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “I don’t think anything we do will fool them.”

  “True again,” she said with a sigh. “And I’m sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “Thinking of lying to them. Well, fooling them.” She hunched into her hood for a moment. “Lately, I’ve realized how dishonest I am.”

  He made a noise in his throat. “No more than everybody else, probably.”

  She stepped around a puddle and said, “Exactly. And I always thought I was the most honest one. I somehow convinced myself that everybody else was lying through their teeth, and I wasn’t.”

  “Is this part of feeling like a terrible person?” His tone was gentle.

  They’d had such a beautiful moment at the summit, she didn’t want to ruin it but she’d promised not to hide, promised to be open with him. “I told Kimberly I knew she was my mother. But I did it in a really horrible way.” The last word came out a little unsteadily. “I was so sure I had the upper hand but when it came down to it, I’m not really any better than she is. Yes, she abandoned me, but that doesn’t automatically make me the good guy. She said she was trying to give me a good life and I think I believe her. Of course, she doesn’t know that. All she knows is that I’m angry and blame her for not having a real mother.”

  She wiped a hand over her face. “I don’t know. I’m confused about whether I should let it go, or try to repair what was broken to begin with. Maybe I’ll just make it worse.”

  He didn’t say anything for a moment. “I never told you the whole story. About my parents and the way they died,” he said.

  She looked up in surprise. “No, I don’t think you did.” She wanted to tell him it wasn’t necessary but she also knew Gideon never said more than he had to, and if he wanted to tell the story, she wanted to listen.

  “You know I killed Mark Daniels out of revenge.”

  “Yes.”

  “But I didn’t have the whole story. I didn’t know until after the fact, that my parents were involved in dealing cocaine. They owed a lot of money to a big time dealer based in Atlanta. Mark Daniels and Duane Banner came to collect the money, or convince them to find it.” His voice was flat but she could see the pain etched in his face. “My whole life, I thought they had picked up some drifters and offered them dinner. I thought they were good Samaritans. My aunt told me that because she thought it would be easier than knowing the truth. And that little white lie fed my rage until I was old enough to make my own plan for revenge.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She remembered Barney Sandoz and his accusations of Gideon being involved somehow with cocaine and drug dealing.
r />   “So, you’re right to be angry that Kimberly abandoned you. But I also think you’re right to forgive her. I thought my parents were saints, but they had a role in what happened to us. I wish I’d known. Kimberly had selfish motives, I’m sure. But she also might really have believed you’d be safe there, and loved.” He glanced down at her, his hair dripping onto his forehead. “Having the whole story makes all the difference. I would talk to her again, let her tell her side of it. And whatever you decide, I know you’ll do the right thing.”

  “Thank you,” she said, feeling a warmth spread through her at his words. She was used to relying on herself , not asking for anyone’s opinion or support. When Gideon offered his, she couldn’t deny how comforting it was to know she wasn’t completely alone, that someone trusted and believed in her.

  But along with the comfort, there was a thrill of fear, too. Letting herself rely on him meant she wouldn’t always be completely independent.

  She shivered into her sweatshirt. If she was really honest with herself, she’d lowered those walls long ago. She was completely vulnerable to being hurt but, as she looked down at their hands linked together, she knew she that was willing to follow the poem. She was willing to give everything she had been or could be, for one breath of ecstasy.

  ***

  “Hey, Alcide Bernard says he and his cousin can bring their trucks to help us load up those boxes on Tuesday evening. Does that work?” Father Tom sounded a little out of breath. Sunday morning was always a rush and Mass was in half an hour. He must be running late.

  Gideon shifted the phone to his shoulder and tried to straighten his tie. “I think that’s okay. I didn’t check on it last night but I think I’d best stay away until we start unloading.”

  “Great. And Sally and Vince are coming for supper. See you at four.”

  Gideon nearly dropped the phone onto the bathroom floor. “Wait. What?”

  “Supper. My place. You said you were ready to―”

  “I know what I said. I just… I thought…”

  Tom sighed. “You thought I meant your next birthday? Or did you think they forgot? Because I can assure you they haven’t.”

  “But my birthday was yesterday.” It had been the best birthday he’d had in years. Even now, he could almost feel Henry’s kiss.

  “They’re coming today. I don’t have time to argue with you. I’ll see you at church,” Toms said and hung up.

  Gideon slowly put the phone on the counter and stood there, his stomach twisting into a knot. He’d thought this was what he wanted, but now that the moment had arrived, Gideon wasn’t sure he could face them. Tom hadn’t mentioned Austin. Images popped into his head, pictures of the little boy who looked up to him like an older brother, who trusted him and believed that he would always be there. Gideon wiped sweat from his forehead and struggling to finish straightening his tie, his hands trembling.

  Those moments with Henry at the summit were some of the brightest moments of his life, and now, it seemed a broken relationship that haunted most of his life could be mended. He only needed the courage to take that step, to do whatever was needed to rebuild that connection. Like Henry’s poem, there was a payment demanded for every good and lovely thing. Gideon had only to decide whether he would pay the price.

  ***

  “Are you okay?” Henry said softly, slipping her hand into Gideon’s larger one as they walked out of St. Augustine’s. The morning was bright and sunny, the scent of fresh mown grass in the air. He’d been distracted the whole service. He’d smiled once at her when she sat next to him, but otherwise he’d been quiet and withdrawn. His jaw was clenched now, the lines of his face tight with tension. She put her other hand on his arm and she could feel his muscles bunched under the sleeve of his shirt.

  “I’m fine,” he said, forcing his lips upward.

  Lie.

  It took her completely by surprise and she sucked in a sharp breath.

  He looked down at her, expression filled with regret. “I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to―”

  “No, I shouldn’t have asked,” she said.

  Gideon turned, putting both hands to her cheeks, meeting her eyes, not seeming to care that half the church was still filing out into the sunshine. “Yes, you should have. You can ask me anything. And I will answer you, truthfully.”

  Henry nodded, his words sinking into her, as warm and reassuring as his touch. After a few moments, he stepped back and put his hands in his pockets. “My parents are coming today. I told Tom I’d meet with them but now I want to cancel.” He swallowed hard.

  “You’re afraid. I know how you feel. Kimberly is coming to my apartment this afternoon,” she said. “Looks like we’ll both be mending fences. I’m not sure about you, but that’s never been my strong suit.”

  His let out a soft laugh. “I wish you could come with me.” Then he seemed to rethink his words. “I would never ask you to, of course.”

  “What time?”

  “Four,” he said, looking hopeful for the first time that morning.

  “Kimberly is coming at three thirty.” She didn’t need to say more. There was no way she could be in both places. Her heart ached to see the way his hopeful look was replaced by nervous resignation.

  “What about you? I’ll come, if you want me to. I can’t stay long, but I’ll be there if you need me.”

  Henry smiled. She wanted to say yes, wanted to rearrange everything. “Thank you, but I guess we’re meant to walk this one alone.”

  He reached out and took her hand. “Maybe next time, then. I’d like you to meet them.”

  She looked into his dark blue eyes and wanted to freeze the moment. Her whole life she’d been rushing ahead. She planned her steps years in advance, with one eye on her next job, next city, next season. She thought she’d been happy. Since meeting Gideon, it seemed everything had fallen apart, but at the same time, she found herself wishing she could stop the clock and savor each second. Maybe that was what it meant to be alive, to brave the pain and embrace the joy, and in the end you felt like you didn’t get enough time.

  “I’d like that,” she said, and meant it.

  ***

  Gideon stood in front of Tom’s door, his heart pounding. It had taken everything in him to get out of the car and climb the short steps to the porch, now and he didn’t know if he had the nerve to knock. He closed his eyes, let out a long breath and tried to remember why he was there. Mending fences. Henry’s phrase came back to him and he wondered how she was doing right then. Somehow it gave him strength to know she was taking the same brave steps.

  He straightened his tie, ran a hand over his hair, and knocked lightly.

  There was the sound of footsteps and the door swung inward.

  “Come on in,” Tom said. He reached out and grabbed Gideon’s arm, as if worried he was going to run now that he’d made it that far. As Gideon took a step, Tom leaned near and whispered, “You did it.”

  Gideon didn’t respond. He hadn’t done anything. All he could hear was his blood roaring in his ears. He glanced around the room and felt his mouth drop open at the sight of Vince and Sally.

  They hadn’t changed at all, maybe a little grayer and more lined around the eyes. Sally was the same small, round figure who had hugged him tight through his awkward adolescent, who helped him with his English homework and baked him cookies. She was smiling but there was a sheen of tears in her eyes. Vince stood. His hair had gone almost gray but he looked just like the man who taught him to fish, to hold the door for a woman, to knot a tie.

  A slight movement caught his eye and Gideon turned to see Austin in the kitchen doorway. The little boy who sat on his lap to hear books at bedtime was gone. In his place was a tall, lanky young man with Vince’s bright blue eyes and Sally’s reddish brown hair. Gideon had wondered if he would come and he’d practiced a few things to say. But now that the time had come, those words were gone. In their place, was simply, “I’m sorry.”

  Austin walked toward him, his
eyes filled with a mixture of caution and hope. “Hey, Gideon,” he said, and his voice was octaves deeper than Gideon remembered.

  “I’m sorry, Austin,” he said again. He didn’t know how many times he would need to say it. Maybe he would never stop.

  “I missed you.” He smiled shyly and Gideon saw a flash of the little boy he once was. “I have good memories of when you were my big brother.”

  Gideon felt his chest hitch and he nodded. “I’m sorry for the way I left, for what I did to your family.” He looked at Sally and Vince. “For how I hurt all of you. Please…” Forgive me.

  Sally couldn’t stay away after those words and she fairly ran across the living room, wrapping her arms around him. Her shoulders shook and her voice came out muffled against his chest. “My boy,” she said. “You’re so big. You’re all grown up.”

  Vince approached carefully, as if he didn’t want to scare him. Gideon looked up, not able to speak at all, and Vince put his arms around both of them, as if they were one person. “It’s good to see you, son.”

  Gideon finally understood that Sally and Vince hadn’t been waiting for his apology. They had forgiven him years ago. They had simply been waiting for him to accept their forgiveness.

  ***

  Gideon walked up the front steps and rummaged for his key. He’d forgotten to leave the porch light on when he left. He was surprised he even remembered to lock the door, he’d been so nervous. He felt drained, but completely at peace. Eighteen years of pain had been lifted tonight and he hadn’t realized how heavy the burden had been until it was gone.

  He paused, key in hand, and listened to the soft sound of the wind in the old oak trees. The sky was filled with stars and he yearned to call Henry. It was much too late. She was likely asleep. He took out his phone and weighed it in his hand, wanting to call her anyway, needing to hear her voice. It occurred to him that he had gone from missing her at odd moments of the day to missing her whenever they weren’t together, no matter the hour. He wanted her with him all the time. The realization was unsettling. Maybe he’d never be content by himself again. Maybe every moment would have a hollowness if she weren’t somewhere nearby.