These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance (15 page)

            Tom
said nothing, just watched him, eyes reflecting the street lamps.

            “I
was happy with my life.” Gideon paused, the past tense echoing in his head.
“But now, I realize how far behind I am. I feel like someone who refused to learn
how to ride a bike and finds out he has to pedal across the state.”

            “You
think Henry won’t want you because you’ve never had a girlfriend? I don’t think
she’s looking for the most experienced guy out there.” Tom shifted his feet.  He
spoke carefully, as if he were afraid of scaring Gideon away. “Has she shown
any interest? Besides losing the power of speech when you’re around.”

            “I
don’t know.” Gideon watched tendrils of steam curl of the surface of the coffee.
“I honestly can’t tell. Sometimes I think so. But I spent years honing the
ability to tell whether I was going to get shanked in the cafeteria line, not
whether a woman was interested in me.”

            “Well,
if you’re really going to consider taking a step in that direction, I’m willing
to lend my expertise to the situation.”

             “I
never should have said anything.”

            “I’m
serious,” Tom said, laughing. “And I’m glad you said something.” The teasing
faded from his voice. “What happened to you was no small thing. I’m your
friend, whether you live alone, get married, or build a treehouse and spend all
your time with the rope ladder pulled up.”

            Tom
went on. “You have every right to spend your life coping the best way you can,
even if that means walking away from women like Henry. But sometimes we’re sent
a sign and we shouldn’t ignore it.”

            A
sign. Gideon took a sip of coffee and thought of how Henry had come into his
life like a flare, all sparks and smoke that made his eyes burn.

            “If
you want, if you’re serious, I’d be happy to cook something, and invite you
both to supper,” Tom said.

            Gideon
almost choked. “Supper? Why would you do that?” The idea of trying to carry on
a conversation over supper made him go cold with fear.

            “You
two and a few other people. It’ll be fun. Listen, I know it sounds like I’m a
couple paper plates short of a picnic but a lot of the world considers sharing
a meal a way to get to know a future spouse.”

            “Future
spouse,” Gideon said, shaking his head.

            “Ok,
sorry. A romantic prospect. Better?” Tom sounded half amused, half exasperated.

            “And
you think we need a chaperone?”

            “Not
even a little bit,” Tom said. “But unless you’re going to march over there
tomorrow and ask her out on a date, this might be a step that’s a little more
comfortable for both of you. Also, if she’s already dating someone, you won’t
look like such a jerk.”

            Gideon
passed a hand over his face and was surprised to feel cold sweat on his skin.
“I changed my mind. This is a terrible idea. She’s not interested and I’m
better off just enjoying our friendship.”

            “Too
late,” Tom said cheerfully. “I’ve already planned the menu.”

            “You’re
ridiculous.”

            “Just
make sure you talk. I can’t carry the conversation the entire time.  If you two
sit there and stare at each other like owls, I’ll have to do something drastic,
like bring out Twister.”

             “I
don’t think priests are allowed to play Twister with their guests.”

            “That’s
not true. We can control the spinner.” Tom opened the paper bag and handed over
a sandwich. “Bacon, lettuce and tomato.”

            He
accepted it without comment. Sally always made BLT sandwiches when they’d gone on
a fishing trip with Vince. Gideon never made them for himself. Ever. They
smelled like happiness and tasted like warm comfort. They were part of his past
and didn’t fit anywhere in his present.

            As
they ate in silence, Gideon watched the dark windows of By the Book and tried
to forget all the things he was afraid of, all the dreams he’d pushed aside in
the interests of living a safe sort of existence. Once upon a time, he’d killed
a man in righteous anger, exacting revenge on him for destroying Gideon’s
family. He’d known it was morally wrong, but he hadn’t known that he didn’t
have the full story.  Months later he’d learned that his parents weren’t as innocent
as he’d thought. They were as guilty as the man Gideon had murdered.

            Since
that day, he hadn’t trusted his emotions. Love, anger, jealousy, even
admiration, were all suspect. He never wanted to rely on his heart and be
blinded again. And until now, he’s succeeded.

Usually we walk around constantly
believing ourselves. “I'm okay,” we say. “I'm alright.” But sometimes the truth
arrives on you and you can't get it off.

―Markus Zusak

            Henry
perched on her desk chair, an expression of longsuffering on her face. Patsy
fussed around her, holding up one pair of earrings against her head and then
another. Music blared through windows from the street below. It seemed the only
drawback of the beautiful apartment over By the Book was the fact it was
situated directly over the main bandstand of the Zydeco Music Festival. She
wasn’t going to get much sleep that weekend.

            “I
think we’re ready. I feel ready.”

            “Won’t
you put your hair down just this once?” She’d chosen Henry’s outfit, fixed her
make up, and was currently ten minutes into choosing the perfect accessories. “It’s
a party. Nobody wants to see you in your librarian get up.”

            “I’m
a historian, not a librarian. And who says anybody wants to see me anyway?” Henry
asked. Of course, if she had to answer her own question, she hoped there was
one person who did.

            Henry
tugged at her top. “I feel weird. I don’t want to spend the whole evening
feeling weird.” Patsy had chosen a button up, sleeveless white shirt that
looked completely demure until it was paired with a flirty teal skirt that barely
reached her knees. Zydeco dancing involved a lot of swing and Henry was going
to have to be careful. Her trusty red cowboy boots were the only comfortable
part of the whole outfit.

            Patsy
grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around. “Sherlock, you always feel
weird. That’s not going to change.”

             “True.”
But then again, the last few weeks, she’d felt as if her life had taken a turn
toward something new, something exciting and a little scary. She would lie in
bed listening to her heart beat in her chest and for once, she didn’t wish she
was someone else.  

            “Blue
better know how to dance. This outfit deserves to be seen.” Patsy pinned a
shimmering butterfly into the back of Henry’s hair.

            She’d
almost forgotten Blue was meeting them at the central dance floor. Her head was
full of Gideon, the way his voice dropped an octave when he teased her, the way
he knew more about her than almost anyone in the world.

            “He’s
a good Creole boy. Of course he knows how to dance.” Henry checked her watch.
“I don’t think there’s any other part of me that you can fix. Are we ready?”

            Patsy
reached over and took off Henry’s glasses. “Just that.”

            “Hey.”
She reached out for them but Patsy skipped out of the way, laughing.

            “I
know these are fake. Leave your little security blanket at home for once,
Linus.”

            “Funny.”
Henry felt a ball of anxiety form in her stomach. It was true that the glasses
made her feel secure in a way that was hard to explain. She hardly ever took
them off and never in front of anyone.
Except Gideon
, her memory
whispered
.
But only because they’d reflected the flickering lamplight.
It really wasn’t about him.

            “Did
you hear me?” Patsy was standing there, arms crossed over her chest. She looked
the picture of
bonne temps
, with her blue check shirt, swirly skirt, and
perfectly battered old cowboy boots. “You’ve been out of it all week. Maybe
we’re keeping you up too late.”

            “No,
y’all are fine.” Henry stood up. “I’ve loved having you visit. You have to come
here more often. I don’t want to see Jack running the next time you visit.”

             “Be
careful what you wish for because Denny has been making noise about
Natchitoches being a better place to raise kids than LaFayette,” Patsy said.

            “Really?”

            “No
promises, but we actually went to see a few houses yesterday.” Her eyes were
shining. “And you know how much I love you if I’m willing to put up with all my
relatives just to be near you.”

            Henry
grabbed Patsy in a hug, then leaned back. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scream in
your ear.”

            “Again,
nothing is set. But Watson would be much happier near her Sherlock.” Tears
glinted at the edge of Patsy’s eyes. “After I lost my dad last year, I realized
that life is too short to be so far away from the people I love. And then when
Jack was born, Denny and I both decided that we wanted to raise him near our
families.” She rolled her eyes. “I know, it sounds like insanity, especially
when we worked so hard to get away from them when we were younger.”

            Henry
laughed, envisioning Patsy’s aunts hovering around Jack, giving advice in Creole
all at the same time until Denny decided enough was enough and whisked him away
for some fishing. Her smile slipped a little, wondering if she would ever want
her family involved in her child’s life. If she ever had one.

            “We
should go,” Henry said. “Denny and Bix are gonna feed Jack fried Twinkies and
he’ll never eat normal food again.”

             “I
had a fried Oreo, once. It was pretty good.” She looked up. “I can tell you
that because you’re my best friend. No judging, right?”

            “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.