These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance

by Hathaway, Mary Jane

  Gideon let himself inside and glanced around the living room. He’d always felt at home here. The house was small, but had been built with tall ceilings, long windows and a carpenter’s attention to detail. He loved the pine floors and the built in bookshelves. He appreciated the glass knobbed doors, the farm house sink, and even the tiny bathroom. But now he looked around and wondered what Henry would think of the place. Maybe she wouldn’t like the Eastern facing windows or the narrow back porch or the small closets.

  He’d never cared what anyone thought of his life, his house or belongings. He made decisions based solely on his conscience and his preferences. For the first time he looked at it all with new eyes. As he thought of how it would be to live with her in this space, he saw his life spread out before him. It was rearranging, shifting, and becoming something altogether different. It was starting to look like a place where he hoped Henry would be perfectly at home.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The water in a vessel is sparkling; the water in the sea is dark.

  The small truth has words which are clear; the great truth has great silence.

  ―Rabindranath Tagore

  Henry walked into the Natchitoches parish archives and waved to Bernice. “How are you?”

  She looked up, a bit of a frown on her face. “Just fine, thank you. You’re here for Gideon, I suppose.” Her voice was a little cool.

  “Yes, ma’am. Is he busy?”

  Bernice let out a sigh. “I can check.” She picked up the phone and started to push a button but Henry leaned over and stopped her hand.

  “Bernice, I hope that you’re not upset with me. It just wasn’t going to work out. It’s me, nobody else is to blame.” She wanted to add something about how wonderful Blue was, but Bernice knew that already.

  She sniffed. “You didn’t even try.”

  “I admit it was only a few dates but I think we both knew right away that we weren’t meant to be together.”

  Bernice blinked. “Dates?”

  “With Blue. Your nephew.”

  “Is that what we’re talking about? I thought you were apologizin’ for not joining my bowling league.”

  “Oh! I completely forgot,” Henry said, starting to laugh. “I’m so sorry.”

  Bernice scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it over. “Here, we meet every Wednesday. Come on by and we’ll get you set up.”

  Henry had never wanted to join a bowling league but she was so glad it wasn’t about Gideon or Blue that she nodded. “I’ll try and make it this week.”

  “Well, that would be mighty nice,” Bernice said, her usual smile back in place. “And just go on back. I’m sure Gideon is in his office.”

  She waved the slip of paper. “Thanks, again.” She started down the hallway, thinking of everything was going so well. Kimberly had accepted her apology and for the first time ever, she felt like they might build a relationship. The work on the collection was half-finished. The excavation at Oakland Plantation was yielding some really interesting artifacts. Gideon had reconnected with his foster parents. Gideon… A smile stretched over her lips. She’d never been so happy with anyone.

  She knocked lightly and waited for Gideon to answer. It reminded her of the first time they met, and how nervous she was, not knowing what kind of person he was. Now she trusted him more than anyone else in her life.

  Swinging the door open, she said, “Mr. Becket, I’ve brought you something for the archives.”

  He stood up and walked toward her. His sleeves were rolled up and she couldn’t help glancing down at his hands, remembering his touch. “And here I thought it was a social call.”

  “Nope,” she managed. She closed the door behind her, just in case he was going to give her a kiss hello. She was determined to be professional and keep boundaries in place. Well, a few boundaries.

  “So, where is this something, Miss Byrne?”

  She glanced down. “Goodness. I forgot it on my desk.” She looked up, eyes going wide. “I promise, I really did. Someone brought in a photo they found at a tag sale and I recognized it as from the same set of prints you have of the Burel sisters. I didn’t lie about that just to come see you.”

  The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely. We’re professionals. Plus, it’s only been a day. I’m not that desperate,” she said, hating the defensive tone in her voice.

  “I am,” he said, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her close. Sometimes she forgot how tall he was until they were this close and all she could see was the collar of his shirt. He slowly lowered his head until his lips landed somewhere under her ear.

  “It’s the truth.” Her voice was barely more than breath.

  “I believe you.” He was gently kissing his way along her jaw. “You came all this way to bring me a photo.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Well, I can… this morning… here bring for it.”

  He raised his head. “What?”

  She glared at him. “I can’t talk when you’re doing that.”

  He grinned, dimples appearing. “Sorry. Say it again.”

  Henry bushed back her hair and tried to shake the cobwebs from her brain. She had no idea what she’d been trying to say. “We’re moving the boxes tonight?”

  “Right. Is five o’clock okay?”

  “Perfect.” She took a breath. “Well, I should go.”

  “If you have to,” he said. He let his arm drop away from her. “Hey, not to cross any professional boundaries, but did you want to go out on Friday?”

  They’d never been on a real date. She was simultaneously thrilled and nervous. “Yes,” she said. “But no movies.”

  “No movies,” he promised. Giving her a quick kiss, he opened the door. “See you tonight.”

  “At five,” she agreed. All the way back down the hallway, Henry flopped between irritation at her inability to concentrate, and amusement at how easily Gideon could drive conscious thought from her head. It would be a scary thing if she didn’t trust him. She had never imagined that she could ever be comfortable with someone having that kind of power over her. But with him it was okay. More than okay. She welcomed it. She knew he truly cared for her and that made all the difference.

  ****

  Henry glanced at the clock and let out a sharp breath. There was still half an hour before she needed to meet Gideon at the Finnemore House and she couldn’t seem to concentrate on her book. She refocused, refusing to give in and head over there early. She wouldn’t be one of those women who couldn’t be alone.

  She jumped at the sudden blare of sirens. It sounded close, only blocks away, and then it came closer, closer. Standing up, she put the book down and looked out the window. The river looked the same, lazy and murky. Pedestrians meandered the sidewalk and there were a few cars, nothing out of the ordinary. She peered to the end of the street, and then the other direction as far as she could see. Nothing.

  The siren sounded a little farther away now. She hovered by the window for a bit and then settled back into her armchair. Trying to pick up where she left off, she reread the same passage several times, trying to ignore the sudden skitter of anxiety down her spine. A very faint scent made its way to her and she inhaled deeply. Smoke, and it didn’t smell like burning leaves.

  The siren stopped abruptly and Henry held her breath. It was so near. She knew by sight every home within several blocks. They were old, historic buildings. Any of them could be suffering from a kitchen fire or blocked fireplace. But there was one house in particular on her mind, a place with bad wiring, with gas lamps and plenty of paper, a place that would burn right to the ground if it caught a spark.

  A few minutes passed and Henry hunched in on herself, an arm wrapped around her middle. A heavy sense of dread had settled on her shoulders. Something bad was happening. Tossing the book aside, she slipped on her shoes.

  Time seemed to slow as she pushed open the door to the parking lot and saw the plume of smoke rising, thick a
nd black, a few blocks behind By the Book. She took off through the parking lot, winding through alleys and narrow passages between houses. The sound of her footfalls were like thunder in her ears but her heartbeat was louder.

  She turned the corner and saw the fire truck blocking most of the view of the Finnemore house. Firemen had already hooked up a hose and were having neighbors move their cars out of the way. Henry looked up to the top window and saw bright flickers against the glass. Black smoked snaked from under the eaves and leaked out the cracks in the windows.

  “Miss, we’re going to have to ask you to move,” a voice said. She turned, numb and disbelieving.

  “I work there,” she said. It wasn’t quite right but she couldn’t explain what was in the basement. A treasure trove of Cane River history was going up in smoke. The idea of was like a shock of cold water and she reached out to grab his arm. “I need something from inside. I need to go in the basement.”

  The young man shook his head. “I’m sorry. Nobody can go inside.”

  She started to move away and he clamped a gloved hand on her shoulder. “Miss, you can’t go near the place. Let us handle it.”

  Henry shrugged him off and darted away, taking advantage of the fact he was wearing heavy gear and huge boots. She could hear him yelling behind her but she didn’t stop until she’d reached the far corner of the house where the stairs to the basement were.

  She stumbled to a stop. There was a huge pile of boxes on the edge of the property. It looked like maybe half the collection had already been taken from the basement. She stood there, struggling to understand, until the fireman caught up with her.

  He took her arm none too gently this time. “You can’t be here, Miss.” His voice was no longer polite. He’d run full tilt in all his gear and he wasn’t happy about it. She looked up into his eyes and knew she wasn’t going to be let go this time.

  She pointed to the boxes. “Why are those there? They should be in the basement.”

  “Miss, I don’t know.” He was pulling on her now. “You have to move back.”

  At that moment, Gideon emerged from the basement door, a stack of boxes in his arms. Soaked in sweat and covered in dirt, his expression was one of such fierceness that Henry took a step back. He ran up the steps two at a time, across the grass, deposited the boxes and ran back toward the stairs.

  “Hey!” He let go of Henry’s arm and took off toward the basement and she could only stand there in shock as Gideon looked behind him, then continued on his trajectory toward the irreplaceable collection of Cane River history.

  There was a commotion behind her. Several firemen backed into the street. The smoke was billowing in earnest now and as she stared upward, there was a boom and several windows shattered at once. She ducked instinctively, one arm over her head, and felt the sharp sting of bits of glass and wood against her skin.

  Looking back at the basement, she saw Gideon run out of the basement door, two boxes in his arms. The fireman was behind him, one hand clamped on Gideon’s collar. Henry could see the fireman’s mouth open wide and moving in fury. Gideon either didn’t hear him or didn’t care because as soon as they were free of the stairs he turned and ran toward the other boxes.

  “Henry!”

  She turned to see Father Tom running across the street. His face was tight with panic and his gaze scoured her from head to toe.

  “Where you inside?” He put his hands on her shoulders and for the first time since she’d smelled smoke, Henry felt the numbing terror fade away.

  “No, I was at home.” She turned and pointed to the boxes. “Gideon must have been here. He’s already carrying out the collection.” She had lifted one of those boxes before and she couldn’t understand how he was carrying two and running up the stairs, over and over.

  Father Tom turned, seeing Gideon and the fireman for the first time. The relief on his face was so sharp that Henry almost put out a hand to steady him. “He was. He was working when he smelled the smoke and he said he was going to try and get the boxes out. I tried to argue with him but he hung up on me. Stubborn, as always,” he said.

  Henry tried to smile but her face felt stiff.

  “If you weren’t inside, how did this happen?” Tom turned back to her and lifted one of her hands, exposing streaks of blood on the underside of her forearms.

  “I don’t know,” Henry said. Then she remembered the windows and looked up, pointing to the second story. “The windows blew out when―”

  Just then, another sharp cracked sounded and flames billowed out from the upper story as if an angry dragon were trapped inside.

  “We’d better move back,” Father Tom said. He looked toward Gideon and Henry saw his expression go slack.

  She whirled around to see Gideon running to the stairs once more. The fireman looked behind him and let out a bellow of rage. He lumbered after Gideon but was no match for his speed, barely reaching the stairs before Gideon was through the old green door.

  The fireman stopped, clearly torn between running inside and returning for the rest of his gear. After a few seconds he turned and ran toward the truck, shouting for help.

  “What is he doing? Can’t he see the whole place is coming down?” Father Tom asked.

  Henry shook her head. Of course Gideon could see it.

  He didn’t care.

  He had nothing to lose.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Not truth, but faith is that which keeps the world alive.”

  ―Edna St. Vincent Millay

  Henry waited.

  It seemed as if her whole existence had narrowed to the shouts of the firemen, the choking smoke, the heat of the fire. Father Tom’s voice beside her seemed miles away and his steady hand on her back felt like it was happening to someone else.

  “He’ll come out, Henry.”

  She shook her head.

  “He takes risks but he’s not an idiot,” he said. “Most of the time.”

  He was trying to make her feel better, joking around but she was petrified with fear. Every moment she’d spent with Gideon seemed to pass before her eyes.

  He knew all her secrets.

  He accepted her just the way she was.

  She’d never told him how she felt.

  “Don’t cry,” Father Tom said, his voice strained. “Please don’t cry, Henry. He’ll come back.”

  Come back. And in an instant Henry remembered standing at the screen door, crying for her Mama as she drove away. She’ll come back, now stop your fussing, Lorelei. Aunt Lisette had been angry, whether at Henry’s crying or being left with a toddler, she didn’t know now. Her mama had told her there was something important she had to do, somewhere she had to go. Henry was supposed to be good and stay with Aunt Lisette until she came back. Henry hadn’t been good enough because Mama had never come back.

  “You have to move away from the house,” another fireman said, rushing up to them. He carried an oxygen tank and a mask. “We’ve got someone trapped inside.”

  Father Tom moved away but when Henry took a step, her knees started to buckle. He reached out and caught her before she hit the grass, his hands gripping her, soothing voice in her ear. “Come on, Henry. Come on over here for a while.”

  Her eyes were open wide but she felt like all she could see was smoke and flames. “I never told him,” she whispered. “I never told him the truth.”

  “You can tell him when he gets out,” Father Tom said. “Whatever it is, you can tell him then.”

  But he wasn’t coming back. When you have no one to love, and nothing to lose, you can do what you want. You can rush into burning buildings after old papers and pictures. You can die trapped in that basement because you’re not responsible to anyone. Your life is yours to throw away if you wish.

  Her legs trembled and she wrapped her arms around her middle. Father Tom held out a hanky to her and she just stared back at him.

  The upper stories were fully engulfed now and smoke poured from the basement door. It swarmed u
p the steps like a living thing. Three firemen strapped on oxygen tanks and masks at high speed, ready to go into the basement.

  “There,” Father Tom shouted and Henry turned, preparing for the worst. The firemen were barely at the top of the stairs when Gideon emerged from the black smoke carrying two more boxes. His face was blackened and his shirt was smeared with soot. He coughed and coughed, eyes squinting out toward the bright sun.

  A fireman reached down and hauled him up the last few steps onto the grass. Gideon leaned over, coughing hard. One fireman removed his mask and seemed to be giving Gideon a piece of his mind, gesturing toward the boxes and the flaming building behind them. He tugged Gideon toward the grassy area, his face red and sweaty.

  Henry didn’t remember walking toward them but the firemen were blocking her way past and she was shoving at them, unable to explain she wasn’t heading for the house, but for Gideon. He set down the boxes right there on the pavement and stepped toward her. She didn’t so much as hug him as run into him, knocking him back a few steps. His arms wrapped around her tight and he was saying something into her hair. One of the firemen was still yelling, but his words were all noise and emotion, and Henry didn’t bother trying to piece it together.

  Gideon leaned back and put his hands against her face, cupping her cheeks. She looked up, memorizing the dark blue of his eyes against his smoke-blackened skin. He was whispering now and she looked at his mouth, part of her wanting to know what he was saying and part of her refusing to listen. She knew he didn’t love her. She’d held on to hope, taking his promises as a sign that he did. That hope was gone as surely as the rest of the Cane River collection.