These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance (16 page)

            But
Alanna didn’t seem to know when to stop. “I’ve always been interested in
history. It was my best subject in college. I have so many history books. Oh,
and I love those shows on the History Channel. I could watch those all day.”
She paused to rub her nose. “Some weekends I just curl up on the couch with
some tea and watch those documentaries.”

           
Lie.

            “You
love those, too. Don’t you, Sherlock?” Patsy asked.

            Henry
refused to look at her. Patsy could be so obvious sometimes. “I really enjoyed
the Ken Burns series on baseball.” There. That would throw them into a
different topic.

            “You
like baseball?” Gideon asked.

            “Well,
no. But the history of it was fascinating,” Henry said. She turned to Alanna.
“I know how you feel. A good documentary is a great way to spend the weekend.”

            “Sure.
Right.” Alanna slid a glance her way, as if she were expecting Henry to invite
her over for a PBS special and sleep-over at any moment.

            “You
should join the Cane River Preservation Society,” Ruby said. “Bix and I spend a
lot of our evenings sorting through donations and organizing things for the
archive exhibits. Gideon’s real kind to let us be part of his volunteer crew.”

            “Kindness
has nothing to do with it,” Gideon said, fixing Ruby with a look. “I can trust
you two with irreplaceable treasures. You know the value of a hundred year old
letter that mentions a freed slave business. You understand that there might be
just one photo of a family per generation.”

            “That
sounds like so much fun,” Alanna said, her voice high and breathy. She turned
to Gideon. “You should bring me to one of your society meetings. How often do
y’all get together? Every week?”

            “We
meet once a month,” Gideon said, his eyes still fixed on Henry.
His
smile had faded, as if he somehow knew that her stomach was in knots.

             Alanna
seemed to sense she was losing his interest and redoubled her efforts. “I don’t
spend all my time watching documentaries, of course. I do go out every now and
then. In fact, I was invited to a party just last night that was packed with
celebrities. It’s amazing how down-to-earth these people are. They’re just like
us, really.”

            Henry
felt a sense of foreboding.
Please, don’t.

            “Kimberly
Gray was there.” She said this triumphantly, as if being in the same room with
her was an award. “We’re very good friends. You know she’s from Natchitoches?  I’ve
even spent the holidays with her family here.”

             “You
mean, her parents and sister and… niece?” Patsy asked.

            A
flicker of uncertainty crossed Alanna’s face. She rubbed her nose. “Right. All
of them. Wonderful people.”

            Henry
closed her eyes for a moment. This was one of her worst nightmares, trapped in
a conversation like a poker game, everyone holding their cards close to their
chests, wanting to know what they others were hiding, looking to her for clues.
As much as she hated a liar, she also felt a kinship with them. They were the
same, way down deep where insecurities whispered terrible things and doubts
cast long shadows.

            Gideon
stood and stepped away from his chair. “Henry, would you like to dance?”

            There
was a long moment where Henry just stared up at him as if he’d started speaking
German again. They’d talked about dancing, hadn’t they? Neither of them really
enjoyed it. But to refuse would be twice as embarrassing as actually dancing.

            “Of
course,” she said brightly.

            She
avoided Patsy’s gaze as they took their leave. Side by side, they walked toward
the dance floor packed with couples. Zydeco dancing was something of a cross
between jitterbugging and swing and the waltz. It looked simple, but demanded a
certain level of finesse, especially if you were trying to look somewhat suave
and graceful. They stood together on the end of the dance floor and Henry
couldn’t decide whether she’d rather go back and listen to more lies, or get on
the dance floor and look ridiculous in front of Gideon.

            “I
can’t really―.” She started at the same time as he did.

            “I’m
not very―”

            “―
dance at all.”

            “―
good at this,” he said.

             “Well,
that’s out of the way.”
He looked down at her, a smile creasing
his face. “You look beautiful,” he said.

            Her
stomach dropped into her shoes. “Thank you.”

            “Was
that the wrong thing to say? I meant well.”

            There
was a moment where she considered changing the subject but then said, “I know
you did. It’s just that I hear how pretty I am when I take my glasses off. It’s
even worse when I take my hair down. It’s not really me that people are seeing,
but her.
To
everyone,
I
look just like my aunt.”

            “To
me, you look like yourself,” he said.

            She
couldn’t fight the warmth that spread through her and turned to watch the
dancers. Blue must be watching them from the table, wondering why they were
simply standing there talking. “Should we jump in?”

            “I
think this song is almost over. Do you know it?”

            She
shook her head. “It’s familiar. “

            “This
guy played with Clifton Chenier and the Louisiana Ramblers a long time ago. I
remember watching him… before.”

            She
knew he meant before he’d gone to prison. He’d been so young. She couldn’t
imagine a fifteen year old Gideon.

            “You
never ask me about it,” he said, as if sensing her thoughts. “About the man I
killed and the time I spent in prison.”

            “Do
you want me to?”

            They
were facing each other now. Even though the music was loud and they had to
raise their voices to be heard, it seemed as if they were alone. “It’s usually
the first thing people want to discuss.”

             “I’ve
spent my whole life knowing more than I wanted about everyone. I’ve learned not
to ask questions unless I really want to know the answers.”

            At
that moment the song wound down and the dancers paused in their places. “This
is our chance,” he said, and took her hand.

            Henry
stepped with him onto the dance floor. The leader of the band held a hand up to
his ear, inviting song requests and although Henry tried to think of something,
all she could feel was Gideon’s hand in hers.

            “Beaux
Bridge Waltz,” Gideon called out.

            The
band leader let out a whoop and repeated Gideon’s request into the microphone. The
crowd murmured, laughter rising on the night air. Couples shifted, some
changing partners, some staying put. Henry glanced up at Gideon and hoped she
didn’t look as nervous as she felt.

            She’d
thought some swing would be nerve-wracking. A waltz was a whole different
beast.

“If you do not tell the truth about
yourself you cannot

tell it about other people.”

― Virginia Woolf

            Gideon
turned to face her, and she stepped into the circle of his arm. She felt his other
hand settle against her lower back and she was eye level with his collar bone.
They stood so still she could see the pulse in his throat and she turned her
head, not knowing where to look. Couples were arranging themselves around them.
Henry wondered how they could be so at ease, as if they weren’t inches away
from each other.

            He
smelled like soap and something wonderful. She’d never been close enough to him
to really get a good sniff. An image popped into her head of sticking her face
into his shirt and a sharp laugh escaped.

            “Something
funny?” He glanced down at her.

             “I’m
sorry. I’m just nervous.”

            “Don’t
be. It’s only me.” He squeezed her hand.

            The
band started with the sweet, slow movements and they moved together, keeping on
the fringes of the crowd and out of the way.

            “You
didn’t have to rescue me from the conversation,” she said.

            He
was looking somewhere over her head but he knew what she meant. “You looked
miserable.”

             “I’m
sorry. I didn’t meant to be rude.”

            He
looked into her eyes and there was a frown between his brows. “You keep apologizing.”

            “I
wasn’t judging her.”

            “I
was,” he said. “How hard is it to tell the truth to a bunch of strangers? Nobody
cares if you like history.”

            “I
thought you knew her.”

            He
swung her around another couple and they moved toward the center of the group.
“I’ve met her before.”

            “She
only wanted to impress you.” Henry understood perfectly. “The day I met you,
I’d rehearsed and rehearsed what I wanted to say.”

            “But
then you found out I was an ex-con and decided it wasn’t worth the effort.” His
words were teasing but there was a note of something else in his voice.

            She
let go of her speech when she realized he was going to speak to her without
pretense. She’d answered his honesty with her own. “The lying, it’s really not
that unusual. People usually lie to impress someone. You should take it as a
compliment.”

            “Like
you do when someone lies to you on a date?” His eyes were fixed on someone out
in the crowd but his words were just for her.

             Every
lie stung. It was even more painful when all you wanted was transparency.  But
Alanna was probably steaming. She’d thought she was making headway with Gideon
until he’d stood up and walked away with another woman. She looked for
something nice to say. There was nothing worse than a woman who tore down
another woman once they were out of ear shot.

            “Alanna’s
very pretty. And nice.”

             “She
is,” he said. He was quiet for a moment and they turned toward the end of the
dance floor. “But I’m not interested.”

            She
wanted to ask why, but couldn’t bring herself to do it. For a few seconds, she
thought he wasn’t going to explain.

            “It’s
not the lying,” he said. “It’s more than that. There are a lot of pitfalls when
you’re a convicted felon. Some are obvious. Some are a little harder to spot.
Social interactions are a veritable minefield of pending disasters.”

            “How
so?” Henry was glad when he led them back away from the speakers. She wanted to
hear him, not just his words but the meaning underneath.

            “Alanna
is a lovely woman, but she’s a professional therapist. She’s a fireman looking
for a fire. She saves people for a living.”

            “And
you don’t need anyone to save you.” There was a question there and it occurred to
her that she was breaking her own cardinal rule. Never ask a question if you
don’t want to know the answer.

            “Do
you?” He threw her a look.

            Henry
laughed out loud. “Ouch.”

            “I’m
not trying to offend you.”

            “I’m
not offended. I can see your point. I wouldn’t feel flattered if someone was
attracted to me just because they thought I needed therapy.”

            “And
it’s more than that. Let’s say Alanna and I decided to…” His voice trailed off
and Henry smiled a little.

            “Date?”
she offered.

            “Right.”
He guided her around a corner filled with couples. The singer was ending
another verse and Henry felt a stab of urgency. She wanted to hear what Gideon
had to say, wanted to know why he didn’t think beautiful, smart, cheerful
Alanna was a good match for him. Part of her knew it was none of her business,
but the other part was desperate to hear his reasoning. The singer launched
into the first verse again.

            “So,
say we decided to date. Alanna would do what she’s best at, which is fixing
broken people.”

            Henry
wanted to protest that Gideon wasn’t broken but the man had never lied to her.
She watched his face and kept silent.

            “There
are two outcomes. One, she succeeds.” He shifted and she moved her hand to his
collar from his shoulder. “After months, or even years, she succeeds. I am now
a new and improved, mentally and emotionally more acceptable version of myself.”

            He
gave a wry little smile. “Now, I’m suddenly not as interesting as I once was.
The challenge is gone. Alanna loses interest, while probably not even
understanding why she finds her attention drawn elsewhere.”

           
Drawn
elsewhere.
The old-fashioned phrase belied the heartbreak he was imagining.
Henry closed her eyes briefly. The waltz was beautiful but jarring as
background to Gideon’s words. The upbeat tempo sounded like a circus tune.  “What
if she failed?”

            “Then
she would feel terrible for not being able to save me. I would feel terrible
for not being salvageable. And it would tear us apart anyway.”

            “So
what’s the answer?”

             “Aside
from not dating a therapist? I don’t know.”

            Henry
swallowed hard. She’d wanted to hear why a romance with Alanna would never work
out but now she wondered if Gideon was trying to explain how he couldn’t be
with anyone. “You seem well-adjusted for someone who spent so many years in
prison.” The next moment she shook her head. “That was a stupid thing to say.
Of course it’s not just the prison term.”

             To
her relief, he nodded as he swung them into another turn.  “Tom and I agree on
a lot of things, but he likes to talk psychology. I guess we both agree I
committed a mortal sin that wounded my soul, but he also says it was a violent
crime that scarred my psyche. When I repented, I was forgiven of the first
thing, but maybe the psychological scars from the crime are something else.”
There
wasn’t any self-pity or self-loathing in his voice. He was merely repeating
what Father Tom had told him.

            The
couples moved around them, smiling and talking, a discordant visual to their
conversation. Henry looked into Gideon’s face and wondered if anyone had ever
been as honest with her. In a world where no one wanted to admit they were
broken, Gideon stated it as fact. She was broken, too, and she was tired of
hiding it. The difference between them was that she wasn’t brave enough to say
anything.

            He
shook his head. “Listen to me. Isn’t there a rule about talking too much during
the dance?”

            She
laughed a little but it sounded false to her own ears. “My granddaddy says if
you think too much you’ll miss all the steps. And we know the steps are where the
fun is at.”

            “And
my mama used to say the longest path between two points is through the dance
hall. At least, I think that’s the way it went.” He grinned down at her and she
felt a little blinded by his smile, and spoke before thinking.

            “Your
adoptive mother?”

            His
smile faded. “No. My biological mother. She passed away when I was little.”

            “Oh,
no,” Henry said.

            “With
my father and my little sister.”

            She
felt a chill go down her spine. “All together? Was it an accident?”

            “No.
They were murdered.” He guided her to the edge of the floor and stopped,
dropping his arm from her waist.

           
Scarred.
“I’m sorry,” she managed. Henry looked around, finally realizing the song had
ended.

            Something
in his expression made her mouth go dry. Anger, frustration, disbelief. He
laughed and it was a very unfunny sound. “Tom and Denny are probably back,” he
said, as if that was the next logical step in the conversation.

            Henry
nodded and started toward the tables. She could feel Gideon behind her. All the
nervous giddiness she’d felt at the idea of dancing a waltz with him had fled.
It was her own fault.

            She’d
asked a question and she received an answer. She would never learn.

                                                            ***

            “So,
how did it go? Was Operation Steal Henry From Blue a success?” Tom asked. He
glanced back at the group at the table.

            Gideon
didn’t answer, just kept plodding toward the sidewalk, dodging a toddler, a
kissing couple and two small dogs on leashes.

            “You
wouldn’t even stay and share a meat pie with them. What did I tell you about
the social aspect of sharing a meal? People enjoy eating and people enjoy
eating in groups. It’s something we like to do,” Tom said.

            Gideon
started back toward his car, wishing he was a drinker so he could drown his
sorrows. As it was, all he could do was retreat to his little house in the
woods, shut the door, and pretend none of this had ever happened.

            Tom
kept pace with him. “I’m sensing things didn’t go well. Don’t give up. The kid
is nice looking but he probably doesn’t know squat about Cane River history.
That’s where you’ll impress her. Just keep up with that project you’ve got
going on. You can’t spend all those evenings together by romantic lamplight and
not have something happen.”

            Gideon
let out a low groan. He couldn’t imagine sitting across the table from Henry,
not after tonight. Tomorrow, he’d fix that basement door. They could work
separately and he would pray that they only saw each other when there was a
real necessity. “Nothing is going to happen. I’m going to avoid her from now
on.”

            Tom
reached out and grabbed his arm. “Hold on. Just slow down a second.”

            Gideon
wanted to shrug him off but their friendship didn’t allow that kind of
behavior. He stopped, looking back to make sure they were far enough down the
sidewalk that Henry was out of sight. “That was a mistake,” he said.

            “What
happened? She didn’t jump into your arms? You’ve got to grow a thick skin, Gideon.”

            He
ran a hand through his hair. He felt sick just thinking of everything he’d
said. “It wasn’t her. It was me.”

            Tom
started to laugh. “You step on her toes? Boy, that’s nothing. Shrug it off.”

            He
looked up and something in his expression stopped Tom’s laughter in his throat.
“There’s no way I can be in a relationship with anyone.”

            “Whoa.”
Tom looked around and then gestured toward a free bench. “Sit down. Take a deep
breath.”

            Gideon
sat and stared at the people walking by, people who held hands, laughed, kissed,
and carried their children. People who were as alien to him as another species.

            “What
happened? I could see you two talking.”

            “No,
I was talking,” Gideon said. “I talked and talked. I told her how Alanna
probably only wanted to fix me and how I’m unfixable. Then I told her about my
murdered parents and sister.”

            Tom
slowly leaned back against the bench. “Okay. And what did she say?”

            Gideon
made a sound in his throat. “What is there to say? Nothing. Nobody wants to
hear that while they’re dancing.” He watched a teenage couple walking arm in
arm. It looked so easy, so natural. “I was stupid to think that I could decide
at my age to just… be different. This is the way I am. There’s no changing it.”

            “First
of all, stop with the age stuff. We’re almost the same age and I’m still
young.” Tom crossed his arms over his chest. “And secondly, I’m sure you didn’t
just blurt all that out without some kind of encouragement. She didn’t ask you
anything at all?”