These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance (26 page)

            Henry
gaped at her. “What power? You show up whenever you want and announce I’ll be
doing exactly as you say, or,” she waved a hand, “this happens.”

            Kimberly
sucked in a breath. “I’ve come home every time you were visiting. I sent you
cards and letters. I could be making a movie right now. Instead, I’m here,
trying to convince you to spend some time with me. I’m giving up a lot. All I
ever wanted was to be close to you, Lorelei.”

            Maybe
it was hearing her childhood name right then, after feeling the way everything
fell naturally together with Gideon but Henry spoke without thinking. “That’s a
lie.”

            Kimberly
put a hand to her chest. “What?”

            It
was too late to take the words back. “You never gave up anything. Except me.”

            Her
face turned ashen. “How do you know that?” she whispered. “Who told you?”

            “I’ve
always known it. Always.” Henry sucked in a shaky breath. “So don’t try and
tell me that all you’ve ever wanted was to be close to me because if that were
true, you wouldn’t have given me up.”

            “I
only wanted the best for you,” she said, her voice rising. “I didn’t want you
to grow up in Hollywood, with all the gossip and fake people. I wanted you to
have a happy childhood somewhere with people who loved you.”

            Henry
choked out a laugh. “Do you even hear yourself?”
With people who loved you.
Henry couldn’t bear to repeat the words but said instead, “You didn’t want the
best for me. You wanted the best for you. You wanted the freedom to pursue your
career without a baby in tow. You wanted to be seen as a sex symbol and being a
mommy wasn’t part of that. You wanted to date powerful directors but they
wouldn’t look twice at you if I was in the picture.”

            She
stepped back, as if Henry’s words were physically pushing her away. “I wanted
you to be happy. That’s all I ever wanted.”

            “To
leave me with someone I hardly knew, with someone who never wanted me,” Henry
said and suddenly she was crying, her words coming out high and pinched. “She
pretended to be my mother, but she didn’t really love me.”

            Kimberly’s
eyes were wide with horror. “That’s not true. Lisette loves you, Lorelei.”

            “No.
She tolerated me. She sheltered me and made sure I was clothed and fed, but she
never loved me.” Henry could hardly speak through the pain. Day after day,
she’d sensed Lisette’s coolness, her ambivalence, her resentment. From her very
earliest memory, Henry had understood she wasn’t wanted. “As soon as I went to
college, she stopped bothering to even answer my calls.”

            “I
didn’t know,” Kimberly said. “I really didn’t. You have to believe me.”

           
Truth.

            “Believe
you? You’ve lied to me for twenty eight years and you want me to believe you
now?” She put a hand to her forehead, struggling for control. “You haven’t
earned my trust. In fact, I don’t think you ever will. That time is long past,
Kimberly.”

            Henry
could see her words sinking in as Kimberly’s face went slack and realization
dawned in her eyes. “I see,” she whispered. She walked to the door, her
movements slow and sluggish. Picking up her purse and slipping it over her
shoulder, she turned. “Whether you believe it or not, I do love you and I only
wanted you to be happy.”

            As
the door closed, Henry stood motionless in the middle of the room. She waited
to feel freedom at the lies finally exposed, for the relief to rush in and fill
the aching place where she’d held that festering secret for so long.

            Instead,
there was only another incarnation of the same deep pain. Henry knew then that
even though truth had power, the wielding of it was a dangerous and terrible
thing.

                                                                        ***

            Gideon
walked back toward his car, feeling Henry’s kiss on his cheek long after she
was gone from view. Before he’d quite literally run into her, his mind had been
clouded with worry over the collection and the possible sale of the Finnmore
house. Now he couldn’t focus enough to remember what else he had to do that
day.

            “I
told ya to stay put, Nathan.” The angry words came from just behind a hedge of
azalea bushes.

            “I’m
sorry, daddy. Please don’t be mad, daddy.”

            Gideon
stopped cold. The fear in the child’s voice wasn’t the kind that came from
being caught misbehaving. It was fear that knew how swift and cruel punishment
would be. He took a few steps to the right and peered over the bushes.
Gideon’s
blood ran cold at the sight.

            “I’m
sorry. You said we were gonna get breakfast but you didn’t come back.” A little
boy cowered before Reggie Landre, both hands raised up in front of his face. “I
didn’t see anything, I promise.”

            Reggie
grabbed him by the back of the neck and shook him, nearly throwing the little
boy into the dirt. “I’m gonna have to teach you respect, boy. You disobey me
and you have to face the consequences.” He raised his hand, fingers closed into
a fist.

            Gideon
was through the hedge and wrapped his arm around Reggie’s neck before he
thought any of it through. “Let go,” he growled into Reggie’s ear.

            Nathan
dropped to the dirt and looked up, his eyes wide with fear. Tears streaked down
his cheeks and he gasped for air.

            “I
don’t have no problem with you,” Reggie said, putting both hands up, an echo of
Nathan’s gestures just seconds ago. “Whoever you are, I was just tryin’ to
discipline my son.”

            “Well,
I have a problem with you. You don’t deserve to have this boy in your life.”
Reggie didn’t know who had him around the neck and temptation surged through
him at the idea of anonymity. Gideon wanted to squeeze harder, to show Reggie
what it felt like to be afraid of someone bigger and stronger, someone who had
all the control. Desire twisted in his gut and he felt his muscles tense in
anticipation.

            “Please,
don’t hurt him. Please,” Nathan said, jumping to his feet. He grabbed onto
Gideon’s arm. “Mister, please let my daddy go.”

            He
looked down into eyes that were filled with terror.
Please let my daddy go.
Gideon had begged for his father’s life, and his mother’s, and Katie Rose’s, then
his own. He’d been sure if he could just make them listen, they would stop. But
they’d brushed him aside as easily as Gideon had done just then.

            Dropping
his arms, he stepped back, breathing hard. “I’m sorry, Reggie.”

            He
whirled around, rubbing his neck, fury etched on his features. “Becket,” he
spit out. “I should have known. You followin’ me? You said you got somethin’
against Nightmare Jones and his crew. Well, whatever you seen, you better
forget it. You think you’re safe ‘cause you’re out, but you’re not.” Reggie
stepped closer. “You had the chance to take protection from us but you turned
it down. Now it’s too late.”

            Gideon
said nothing, his heart pounding with adrenaline and shock. He wasn’t worried
about himself. Reggie had no idea who he was threatening. Gideon had thought
he’d changed, but he hadn’t. He was still a murderer, deep down, under his
professional life and his degrees. He was still a man who would take a life
without a second thought. He glanced at Reggie’s son, wishing he could say he
was sorry but knowing there were no words to make those memories go away.

            He
felt bile rise up in his throat and he turned away.

            “Yeah,
you better run. Just remember, there’s no place to hide,” Reggie called after
him.

            Gideon
blindly followed the sidewalk to the parking lot and got into his car. He
rested his head against the steering wheel, willing his heart to stop racing.
His palms were sweaty and his stomach rolled. He hadn’t touched another person
like that in years. There had been no warning, no prelude. One moment he’d been
dreaming of a family with Henry and the next he’d wanted to strangle a man in
front of his own son.

            Whatever
lies he’d been telling himself, he knew the truth now. He was a broken man,
dark and twisted where he should be whole. Henry deserved someone who could
give her a real life. She deserved someone better, someone who wouldn’t ever
put her in danger.

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.”