These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance (32 page)

            “Thank
you,” she said, feeling a warmth spread through her at his words. She was used
to relying on herself , not asking for anyone’s opinion or support. When Gideon
offered his, she couldn’t deny how comforting it was to know she wasn’t
completely alone, that someone trusted and believed in her.    

            But
along with the comfort, there was a thrill of fear, too. Letting herself rely
on him meant she wouldn’t always be completely independent.

            She
shivered into her sweatshirt. If she was really honest with herself, she’d
lowered those walls long ago. She was completely vulnerable to being hurt but,
as she looked down at their hands linked together, she knew she that was
willing to follow the poem. She was willing to give everything she had been or
could be, for one breath of ecstasy.

                                                            ***                 

             “Hey,
Alcide Bernard says he and his cousin can bring their trucks to help us load up
those boxes on Tuesday evening. Does that work?” Father Tom sounded a little
out of breath. Sunday morning was always a rush and Mass was in half an hour.
He must be running late.

            Gideon
shifted the phone to his shoulder and tried to straighten his tie. “I think
that’s okay. I didn’t check on it last night but I think I’d best stay away
until we start unloading.”

            “Great.
And Sally and Vince are coming for supper. See you at four.”

            Gideon
nearly dropped the phone onto the bathroom floor. “Wait. What?”

            “Supper.
My place. You said you were ready to―”

            “I
know what I said. I just… I thought…”

            Tom
sighed. “You thought I meant your next birthday? Or did you think they forgot?
Because I can assure you they haven’t.”

            “But
my birthday was yesterday.” It had been the best birthday he’d had in years.
Even now, he could almost feel Henry’s kiss.

            “They’re
coming today. I don’t have time to argue with you. I’ll see you at church,”
Toms said and hung up.

            Gideon
slowly put the phone on the counter and stood there, his stomach twisting into
a knot. He’d thought this was what he wanted, but now that the moment had
arrived, Gideon wasn’t sure he could face them. Tom hadn’t mentioned Austin.
Images popped into his head, pictures of the little boy who looked up to him
like an older brother, who trusted him and believed that he would always be
there. Gideon wiped sweat from his forehead and struggling to finish
straightening his tie, his hands trembling.

            Those
moments with Henry at the summit were some of the brightest moments of his
life, and now, it seemed a broken relationship that haunted most of his life
could be mended. He only needed the courage to take that step, to do whatever
was needed to rebuild that connection.
Like Henry’s poem,
there was a payment demanded for every good and lovely thing. Gideon had only to
decide whether he would pay the price.

                                                                        ***

            “Are
you okay?” Henry said softly, slipping her hand into Gideon’s larger one as
they walked out of St. Augustine’s. The morning was bright and sunny, the scent
of fresh mown grass in the air. He’d been distracted the whole service. He’d
smiled once at her when she sat next to him, but otherwise he’d been quiet and
withdrawn. His jaw was clenched now, the lines of his face tight with tension.
She put her other hand on his arm and she could feel his muscles bunched under
the sleeve of his shirt.

            “I’m
fine,” he said, forcing his lips upward.

           
Lie.

           
It
took her completely by surprise and she sucked in a sharp breath.

            He
looked down at her, expression filled with regret. “I’m sorry. I didn’t meant
to―”

            “No,
I shouldn’t have asked,” she said.

            Gideon
turned, putting both hands to her cheeks, meeting her eyes, not seeming to care
that half the church was still filing out into the sunshine. “Yes, you should
have. You can ask me anything. And I will answer you, truthfully.”

            Henry
nodded, his words sinking into her, as warm and reassuring as his touch. After
a few moments, he stepped back and put his hands in his pockets. “My parents
are coming today. I told Tom I’d meet with them but now I want to cancel.” He
swallowed hard.

             “You’re
afraid. I know how you feel. Kimberly is coming to my apartment this afternoon,”
she said. “Looks like we’ll both be mending fences. I’m not sure about you, but
that’s never been my strong suit.”

            His
let out a soft laugh. “I wish you could come with me.” Then he seemed to
rethink his words. “I would never ask you to, of course.”

            “What
time?”

            “Four,”
he said, looking hopeful for the first time that morning.

            “Kimberly
is coming at three thirty.” She didn’t need to say more. There was no way she
could be in both places. Her heart ached to see the way his hopeful look was
replaced by nervous resignation.

             “What
about you? I’ll come, if you want me to. I can’t stay long, but I’ll be there
if you need me.”

            Henry
smiled. She wanted to say yes, wanted to rearrange everything. “Thank you, but
I guess we’re meant to walk this one alone.”

            He
reached out and took her hand. “Maybe next time, then. I’d like you to meet
them.”

            She
looked into his dark blue eyes and wanted to freeze the moment. Her whole life
she’d been rushing ahead. She planned her steps years in advance, with one eye
on her next job, next city, next season. She thought she’d been happy. Since
meeting Gideon, it seemed everything had fallen apart, but at the same time,
she found herself wishing she could stop the clock and savor each second. Maybe
that was what it meant to be alive, to brave the pain and embrace the joy, and
in the end you felt like you didn’t get enough time.

            “I’d
like that,” she said, and meant it.

                                                            ***

            Gideon
stood in front of Tom’s door, his heart pounding. It had taken everything in
him to get out of the car and climb the short steps to the porch, now and he
didn’t know if he had the nerve to knock. He closed his eyes, let out a long
breath and tried to remember why he was there.
Mending fences.
Henry’s
phrase came back to him and he wondered how she was doing right then. Somehow
it gave him strength to know she was taking the same brave steps.

            He
straightened his tie, ran a hand over his hair, and knocked lightly.

            There
was the sound of footsteps and the door swung inward.

            “Come
on in,” Tom said. He reached out and grabbed Gideon’s arm, as if worried he was
going to run now that he’d made it that far. As Gideon took a step, Tom leaned
near and whispered, “You did it.”

            Gideon
didn’t respond. He hadn’t done anything. All he could hear was his blood
roaring in his ears. He glanced around the room and felt his mouth drop open at
the sight of Vince and Sally.

            They
hadn’t changed at all, maybe a little grayer and more lined around the eyes.
Sally was the same small, round figure who had hugged him tight through his
awkward adolescent, who helped him with his English homework and baked him
cookies. She was smiling but there was a sheen of tears in her eyes. Vince
stood. His hair had gone almost gray but he looked just like the man who taught
him to fish, to hold the door for a woman, to knot a tie.

            A
slight movement caught his eye and Gideon turned to see Austin in the kitchen
doorway. The little boy who sat on his lap to hear books at bedtime was gone.
In his place was a tall, lanky young man with Vince’s bright blue eyes and
Sally’s reddish brown hair. Gideon had wondered if he would come and he’d
practiced a few things to say. But now that the time had come, those words were
gone. In their place, was simply, “I’m sorry.”

            Austin
walked toward him, his eyes filled with a mixture of caution and hope. “Hey,
Gideon,” he said, and his voice was octaves deeper than Gideon remembered.

            “I’m
sorry, Austin,” he said again. He didn’t know how many times he would need to
say it. Maybe he would never stop.

            “I
missed you.” He smiled shyly and Gideon saw a flash of the little boy he once
was. “I have good memories of when you were my big brother.”

            Gideon
felt his chest hitch and he nodded. “I’m sorry for the way I left, for what I
did to your family.” He looked at Sally and Vince. “For how I hurt all of you.
Please…”
Forgive me.

            Sally
couldn’t stay away after those words and she fairly ran across the living room,
wrapping her arms around him. Her shoulders shook and her voice came out
muffled against his chest. “My boy,” she said. “You’re so big. You’re all grown
up.”

            Vince
approached carefully, as if he didn’t want to scare him. Gideon looked up, not
able to speak at all, and Vince put his arms around both of them, as if they
were one person. “It’s good to see you, son.”

            Gideon
finally understood that Sally and Vince hadn’t been waiting for his apology.
They had forgiven him years ago. They had simply been waiting for him to accept
their forgiveness.

                                                            ***

            Gideon
walked up the front steps and rummaged for his key. He’d forgotten to leave the
porch light on when he left. He was surprised he even remembered to lock the
door, he’d been so nervous. He felt drained, but completely at peace. Eighteen
years of pain had been lifted tonight and he hadn’t realized how heavy the
burden had been until it was gone.

            He
paused, key in hand, and listened to the soft sound of the wind in the old oak
trees. The sky was filled with stars and he yearned to call Henry. It was much
too late. She was likely asleep. He took out his phone and weighed it in his
hand, wanting to call her anyway, needing to hear her voice. It occurred to him
that he had gone from missing her at odd moments of the day to missing her
whenever they weren’t together, no matter the hour. He wanted her with him all
the time. The realization was unsettling. Maybe he’d never be content by
himself again. Maybe every moment would have a hollowness if she weren’t
somewhere nearby.

            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.

           
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 and 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.