These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance (30 page)

            “I
may not have said it, but I was telling myself that.” Henry brushed back her
hair.

             “So,
now you’re admitting you care a little more than you let on. That’s not an
impossible jump.”

            “Maybe
it is.” She told Patsy the story of Kimberly’s uninvited make over, how Henry
had run out to breakfast with Gideon, how she’d come back and launched into an
attack on Kimberly that still made her sick to think about.

            “Have
you talked to her since?”

            Henry
shook her head. “I think I ruined my chance of ever having a relationship with
her. I didn’t think I wanted one at all. But I was wrong.”

            “Do
you think she’ll refuse an apology?”

            She
tried to put away her fear and really consider it. “No, I don’t think she
would.”

            “Good.
Then that’s your next step.” Patsy stood up. “Come on. We need some ice cream
to go with this conversation. Love, lies, secrets. We can’t handle all of this
without a little mint chocolate chip.” She looped her arm through Henry’s and
smiled. “And I’m excited to get to know the real you, Sherlock. Whatever you’ve
been hiding is going to be just as wonderful as the parts I already know.”

            “Well,
first of all, I never liked mint chocolate chip. I just ate it because you
did.”

            Patsy
burst out laughing. “Let the truthing begin!”

            Henry
let herself be pulled into the ice cream shop and fifteen minutes later, had to
agree that a cone of strawberry cheesecake ice cream made everything better. The
tangled mess she’d made didn’t seem so impossible to straighten out. Just
because she’d spent years hiding her real thoughts and feelings didn’t mean she
couldn’t be honest now. She wanted a fresh start. All she needed was courage.

“She is like all the rest of them.
Whether they are seventeen or forty-seven, when they finally come to surrender
completely, it's going to be in words.”

― William Faulkner

            “I’ve
got a water bottle for each of you and a small pillow if you decide to take a
nap,” Gideon said. “As soon as we get you settled in the car, I’ll pass them
out.”

            “Have
ya got a compass?” Father Marcel asked, his voice reedy and feeble. He raised a
hand and pointed at Tom. “Last time we took a trip, he got lost. I thought it
was the Donner party all over again and we were gonna have to eat each other.”

            “We
were fifteen miles out of town. Nobody was going to die. One wrong turn in six
years and nobody forgets it,” Tom said.

            Henry
had her hand over her mouth, eyes crinkled in laughter and Gideon had trouble
not cracking a smile in response. She looked beautiful, as always, and he
wished they’d had a few seconds to talk before everyone arrived.

            “I’ll
go in her car. It looks more comfortable.” Father Marcel was already pushing
his walker toward Henry. “I’ve got this bad back. I can’t stand those little
foreign cars y’all drive. She’s got a Ford. They got real comfortable seats.”

            “Father
Marcel, I thought you could come with me,” Tom said. He turned to Gideon and
whispered, “We discussed this. He’s meaner than a skillet full of rattlesnakes.
We can’t let him go with Henry.” 

            “I
know,” Gideon whispered back but he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He
couldn’t tackle the old guy. A movement caught his eye and he saw Father Luke
shuffling in the same direction, Seemed like the whole group wanted to go with
Henry. He didn’t blame them in the slightest.  

            Henry
was already walking toward her car, ready to assist Father Marcel into his
seat. Father Luke reached the car first, slapped the hood and yelled, “Shot
gun!”

            “Fine,
but I’m driving,” Father Marcel said and held out his hand to Henry. “Keys, if
ya please.”

            She
looked to Tom, confusion on her face.

            “Father
Marcel, you know you don’t have a license,” Tom said.

            “I
was drivin’ our old farm truck to school when I was ten. Nobody needs a license
to drive. That’s just a formality.”

            “Get
on with yo’self,” Father Andre muttered. He raised his voice and said something
in Creole French that was both too fast and too complicated for Gideon to
understand. Then he added, “Miss Henry is the director of the Cane River Creole
park. You’re so proud of that display of your family history. You get her in
trouble and she just might lose all those pictures.”

            Henry
opened her mouth, probably to assure them she’d never do any such thing, but
Marcel was already shrugging. “I suppose I wouldn’t mind holding the map. I’ll
make sure we don’t get lost like we do when Tom drives.”

            Tom
let out a sigh. “It was one time. One.” He turned to Gideon. “If she never
speaks to us again, you can blame me.”

            “She’ll
be fine. She’s a lot tougher than she seems.” Gideon watched her opening the
back door and helping Father Luke get settled. Apparently, he’d given up his
claim on the passenger seat. Father Marcel eased himself into the front seat as
Henry struggled to fold the walker. He could hear Marcel giving her directions.

            “When’s
the wedding?” said a familiar bullfrog voice and Gideon turned to see Father
Toussaint leaning on his cane, his figure even more frail than last year, but
his black trousers and shirt were nicely pressed.

            “Excuse
me?” Gideon hoped he could feign ignorance all the way into another
conversation.

            “You
need to go through pre-marriage counseling, remember that. Ya got to take
classes now.” Father Toussaint leaned closer and whispered. “Waste of time if
you ask me. Nobody ever calls off the wedding because they took one of those
personality tests.”

             “No,
sir. We’re not engaged. We just met a few months ago.”

            “That
counselin’ takes six months, so if she wants a spring wedding, you’ll have to
get started right away. Of course, everybody wants to get married at the minor
basilica but those dates fill up by Christmas.” Father Toussaint straightened
up for a moment. “You’ll probably have Tom here officiate but if for some
reason he’s unavailable, I’d be honored to stand in for him.”

            “Father,
I haven’t asked her to marry me. There’s no wedding,” Gideon said, glancing
toward Henry, hoping she was out of earshot.

            “Well,
there’s no limit on celebrants, actually.” He nodded his head, as if everything
were all settled. “You could have as many of us as you want. But I give the
best homily. Don’t let Father Marcel do it, he talks forever and his jokes are
never funny.”

            Tom
wasn’t even trying to cover his laughter by now and Gideon shot him a glare. If
it got back to Henry, she might wonder what he’d been telling all these
priests. “Let’s get you in the car, Father Toussaint. You can have the front.”

            “Naw,
I better go with Miss Henry. Marcel is gonna send her right off the road with
all his complainin’. Plus, she drives a Ford.” Father Toussaint glanced back to
Tom and Gideon. “No offense, of course.”

            “None
taken.” Gideon caught Tom’s eye and shrugged.

            After
settling Father Sal and Father Gabriel in the back seat, he walked to Henry’s
car. She was just closing the trunk and looked up with a smile that took his
breath away. Really, everything about her took his breath away.

            “Looks
like you ended up with most of the crew,” he said. “I can’t imagine why.”

            “Maybe
they all know women are better drivers.” She glanced behind her and then said
quietly, “I showed Father Marcel that my phone has voice activated GPS and he
asked it the best way to get to New Orleans. But he didn’t like the answer and
now they’re arguing.”

            “Father
Marcel and Father Andre?”

            “No,
Father Marcel and the phone.”

             “You’re
a good sport. Thanks for coming.”

            “I’m
happy to help. Plus, I wouldn’t miss your birthday.” She must have read the
surprise on his face because she hurried to explain. “Bix spilled the beans. I
hope you’re not mad at him.”

            “No,
not mad at all.” That was a little bit of a lie, since Gideon was sure that was
no slip. He reached out and took Henry’s hand for a moment. “I can’t think of a
better way to spend my birthday.”

            Her
cheeks went pink and she nodded. “Me, too. Your birthday, I mean. Not mine.
Mine is in March. Who knows what will be happening in March…. with us.” She
raised a hand to her eyes. “Please stop me.”

            “Never,”
he said, laughing.

            The
back window whirred as it went down and Father Toussaint peered out. “Marcel is
askin’ that doohickey how to get to Miami. It’d take us fifteen hours, but only
if we leave right now before traffic gets bad.”

            Tom
walked toward them, a harried look on his face. “Are we ready?”

            “I
was born naked and ready. They just put clothes on me,” Father Toussaint said
and window slowly slid upward.

            Henry
tried to cover her laughter, but it came out as a snort and a cough.

             “I’ve
got the food, the water, blankets in case the weather turns, the camera, and
just enough patience to get us there and back in one piece.” Tom glanced at
Henry. “If Father Marcel gives you any trouble, ask him about his time as an
Army cleric. He loves talking about it.”

             “We’ll
be fine. Are you leading, Father Tom?”

            “Sure.
And you can follow―”

            “The
birthday boy,” she said, tossing them a grin as she got behind the wheel.

            “Bix
is in big trouble,” Gideon said to Tom, but he didn’t mean it. In fact,
celebrating his birthday didn’t seem as awful as it always had. This year,
things were different.

            This
year, everything had changed.

                                                                  ***

            Henry
set the last plate on the picnic table and bowed her head as Father Marcel said
grace. The smell of the woods was so different from the Cane River area that
she would have known they were somewhere else even if she’d been blindfolded.
She gave an extra prayer of thanks after that car ride. Father Marcel and
Father Andre correcting the others’ version of the last twenty years made it
feel much longer than an hour.

            “Don’t
be shy,” Father Tom announced to the group. “Take as much as you want. Lucille
Rondeau heard we were coming up here and gave us most of the dishes folks
dropped off after her cousin Bob’s funeral. May he rest in peace.”

             “So,
how did it go?” Gideon asked as he walked up.
He handed her a
plate and she thought he looked like what would happen if GQ decided to do a
photoshoot on a hilltop in Louisiana. She focused on carefully splitting a
biscuit and swiping on a bit of peach jam.

            “No
problems at all,” she said. “My phone was exhausted by the time we arrived, but
I had a great time. How about you?”

             “Father
Gabriel prayed the rosary and Father Sal went to sleep so I was left to wonder what
was happening in the party car.”
He lifted a pitcher of
sweet tea and started to pour a cup.

            “Well,
Father Toussaint says I need to pick our wedding date soonish because he always
takes a trip to Atlanta to see his sister in the spring and he doesn’t want to
miss it.”

            Gideon
poured tea all over the table cloth and spent the next few seconds scrambling
to clean up the mess.

            “It’s
okay. I told him we were going to live in sin. He said he’s driving back with
you so he can set you straight,” Henry said.

            Gideon
paused, a wad of damp napkins in one hand and the half-filled glass in the
other. “Now you’re just being cruel.”

            “Better
that you find out now and not after we’re married.” She scooped up some potato
salad and let it drop onto her plate with a satisfying plop. “But if it makes
you feel better, remember I still have Father Marcel and a working GPS app.”

            He
took all the teasing in stride and she loved that about him. She loved
everything about him.

            “Henry,”
he said, looking down at the napkins in his hand. He shook his head, as if not
sure what else to say.

            “Don’t
worry. I’m not sending out any invitations,” she said, keeping her tone light.
She refocused on her plate. “Father Andre asked me to bring him another biscuit
so I’d better go sit down,”

            “Wait.”
He dropped the napkins and touched her elbow. “It looks like it might rain, but
if you’re willing, I thought maybe we could hike to the summit after we eat
lunch.”

             “I’d
love that,” she said.

            He
glanced behind them. “I think most of them will want to hang out down here and
take a rest but I’m pretty sure we can outrun them if we have to.”

            “I’ll
be ready to bolt,” she said and turned away, her face warm. So he hadn’t ever
called about their date, but hiking to the summit sounded promising. She hadn’t
taken any big steps yet, but she was determined to start being herself. And
being herself meant letting Gideon know exactly how she felt.

                                                            ***

            The
hike to the top wasn’t really a hike, in Gideon’s opinion. It was a leisurely
walk and they didn’t break a sweat. The clear sky had clouded over and it
looked as if it might rain at any moment but they didn’t turn back. Of course,
after Henry had taken his hand he’d stopped wondering if they would get soaked
and decided he didn’t care.

            The
patter of rain drops on the leaves of the sheltering trees welcomed them as
they stepped into the small clearing. A pyramid of stones marked the summit and
a display case held a map, the glass streaked with rain. They took turns
shielding the visitor’s book as they took it from the little wooden box and
signed it.

            “It’s
perfect here,” Henry said.

            He
wanted to say he agreed, but was afraid he’d blurt something else, something
about the way she looked in the rain, the way the drops clung to her lashes. He
knew they should head back. Tom would be getting out the blankets and moving
everyone to the picnic shelters to wait for their return. Henry pulled up the
hood on her sweatshirt, but didn’t say anything about leaving.