These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance Read online

  “Miss Byrne? Hello?”

  Henry turned at the sound of a man’s voice and even though it was clearly someone younger and much more cheerful, she pictured Gideon. But it wasn’t.

  “My aunt Bernice told me to keep my eye out for you,” he said, catching up to her. His dark hair was closely trimmed and he had the look of someone who took care with his wardrobe. He wasn’t a dandy, in any sense, but he was definitely more stylish than the average Natchitoches man.

  He held out a hand, and even though he wasn’t smiling, his brown eyes were warm. “My name is Blue Chalfant. My office is just a few doors down from By the Book.”

  “She mentioned you, yes. So glad to meet you at last.” Henry wasn’t sure where the ‘at last’ bit had come from. She certainly hadn’t been looking for him. In fact, she’d forgotten all about him until that moment.

  “I can see you’re headed to work, but we should have dinner together some time. I promised Aunt Bernice I’d show you some Natchitoches hospitality.”

  Lie.

  She would be much more offended if he was asking her out under duress. As it was, Blue Chalfant seemed to actually want to get to know her better. She considered politely declining but an image flashed through her mind of her last date, almost four years ago. Unmitigated disaster was too kind a term for it. She was older and wiser, and if she were truly honest, more than a bit lonely.

  “I’d like that. I don’t know many people here.”

  “Besides your family,” he corrected her. “But I know what you mean.” His tone was teasing.

  She couldn’t hold back a laugh. Maybe he was in the same boat. Quite a few relatives, but not many friends. “Yes, of course.”

  He ran a hand through his hair and looked down the street. “You’ve probably got plans for tonight.”

  “Actually, I’m free.”

  “You like ribs? I could pick you up at seven.” He was grinning now, a straight white smile that made Henry wonder what she’d done to deserve such a great start to the day.

  “Perfect. To both of those.” She stood there, smiling shyly. “Oh, I’ll meet you out front since By the Book will be closed and the back door is usually locked.”

  “Sounds great.” After a moment he turned, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “I better get back. My secretary’s out sick and I’ve got to man the phones. They should have made us take a class on that in law school.”

  “See you later,” she said, raising a hand. She walked the rest of the way to the car with a smile on her face. He looked a few years younger than she was but he didn’t give off the cocky air of the usual privileged Southern kid. Maybe it was the small gesture of nervousness before he asked her out, maybe it was how he’d asked whether she liked ribs, but Henry couldn’t help feeling like this might be a first date that didn’t end up a complete failure. Of course, with her track record, only time would tell.

  ***

  Gideon wiped the steam from the bathroom mirror and stared into his own eyes. When he was little, his father had told him that he had his mama’s eyes and Gideon hadn’t understood how that could be. Sure, they were the same color, but hers were large and beautiful, rimmed with dark lashes and sparkling with laughter. Even then he’d been a serious kind of kid, nothing like his mama. Or his papa, for that matter. Those two weren’t happy unless they were headed to a party or inviting people over.

  He filled the sink with water, opened the old medical cabinet and took out his razor. Katie Rose had been more like their parents. She was happiest toddling around the guests, pulling at pants or hems of skirts, trying to take part in the conversations. Sometimes he’d catch her reaching for the ice cubes in amber-colored drinks left on side tables and she’d howl when he dragged her away.

  He sprayed shaving foam onto his fingers and slowly worked it into a lather. The smell was so familiar. Within seconds, the memory hit him and he saw the early morning light streaming through the bathroom window in his childhood home, his papa frowning into the mirror, intent on his razor, his mama’s lilting voice coming from the kitchen, Katie Rose coming to stand beside him, her little brown curls sticking to her sweaty cheeks. It had been a long time since he’d been hit by a memory that strong.

  He made the first sweep of the razor across his cheekbone. He could almost hear his mama’s singing ‘L’anse aux pailles’ while his papa bowed the fiddle. He swallowed hard and rinsed the razor in the water. Sometimes he wished he’d known the dark truths that lurked behind the image of a happy family. It would have made the transition to orphan and foster kid so much easier. But then, he wouldn’t have had even those few years of happiness, blind to what was really happening in his house.

  The solitude of the little house had appealed to him when he’d first moved to Natchitoches and he still loved the way it sat back under the trees, removed from any of the traffic of the city. Usually the silence was soothing, but at the moment he wished he owned a radio, or even a TV. The thoughts in his head were louder than usual.

  Sliding the razor down one cheek, his skin emerged pale and smooth, and along with it a memory of his fifteenth birthday. He’d wanted cash but Vince had given him an electric razor, a hug, and a promise that he’d need it soon. His foster father had misunderstood the tension that had gripped Gideon that year, that kept him coiled like a spring, seeking a way out of their little family. Gideon rinsed the razor and tipped his head, gliding the blade along his jaw. Tom had arrived in the foster home few years before and although he was as angry as Gideon, his rage didn’t take the same shape, with his secret map under the mattress and hours of plotting late into the night. Tom liked to say that he and Gideon were just alike, except that one of them was given the grace of a glimpse into the future and had the chance to change his path, but Gideon didn’t believe it. Tom had always carried a tenderness inside that Gideon had not.

  The silence in the bathroom seemed to grow with each pass of the razor. Gideon could hear himself breathing. He hadn’t seen himself without a beard for a long time, not since those first years in prison.

  He rinsed the razor and turned back to the mirror, so unlike the square of polished steel he’d used in his cell. He remembered the low thrum of footfalls and conversation. In prison, every surface he touched carried the vibration of the thousands of bodies that moved in the same building, like the hum of bees in a hive. Even in the middle of the night, he could hear men crying softly in their bunks, or whispering, which was worse. A crying man wasn’t plotting against you, but two men whispering could mean you were going to get jumped while in line for scrambled eggs the next morning.

  Gideon stepped back. He looked like a split before and after photo of a hermit who’d been given a makeover. There was no going back now. He leaned in and slowly shaved under his chin, wincing at the tickling sensation. As he worked his way down his left cheek, he saw the way his muscles rippled under the skin of his shoulder and forearm. Maybe Tom was right and he needed to scale back on the weight lifting.

  He paused, the razor hovering just above his left cheekbone, remembering the moment outside the Finnamore house when he’d misunderstood Henry’s Poe reference. A slow smile touched his lips. He didn’t usually worry whether anyone was afraid of him. In fact, he figured most people who knew about his time in prison would be. But it made him strangely happy to know Henry was more worried about a sticky door than being alone with him.

  A few more minutes of work and he looked into the face of his youth. Gideon turned his head, seeing the line of his jaw for the first time in years. He’d imagined shaving off his beard would reveal an old man, but it was the opposite. He looked much younger, almost vulnerable. Anxiety twisted in his stomach and he shrugged it off. Like Tom had said, there was no need to carry the prison persona anymore.

  ***

  “Hey there, Miss Byrne,” Clark called from where he was stretched out on the floor of the Oakland Plantation foyer near the antique wood stove.

  “Still trying to fix that flue?” Henry ask
ed. “You know what my mamere says? If at first you don’t succeed, go and dance.”

  He sat up, a grin on his face. “She’s right, she is. I’m sure looking forward to the Zydeco Festival. You got yourself a date yet?”

  “I thought that was the point,” she said. “You get all dressed up and go find yourself a date.”

  “Oh, Miss Henry, a girl such as yourself should have a date on hand. Otherwise, the men might fight over ya.”

  She rolled her eyes. No one would be fighting over her and she certainly wouldn’t want them to. “Actually, I thought I’d just watch from my apartment. They set up the big dance floor right across from By the Book. It’s the same thing and I don’t even have to get in the middle of the crowd.”

  Clark stared at her as if she’d spoken in Latin. “The same thing? You right about that?”

  “I may not be right but I’m sure,” she said and picked up the mail from the entry way desk. She flipped through them, then stopped at a note, re-reading it. “Did Verna take this message?” she asked, holding up the little slip.

  He squinted over at it. “I’m not real sure, but she said someone is coming to see you. Soonish.”

  Henry stared at the words again. Patsy was coming to visit… today? She felt a combination of alarm and giddiness. Her oldest friend was coming to see her! Patsy knew all her secrets. Or almost all.

  She dug in her purse for her cell phone and remembering how she’d turned it off last night, just in case Kimberly called, and completely forgotten to turn it back on this morning. As she was pushing the button, she heard tires in the long drive way of Oakland Plantation.

  Through the screen door, she saw a newer station wagon pull up in front. She dropped the mail, rushed out onto the front porch, and was down the steps in seconds, already waving with both hands.

  The passenger door opened and a short, red haired woman popped out. “Sherlock,” she squealed and launched herself into Henry’s arms.

  “Watson,” she said and hugged her friend with everything she had. “What are you doing here?”

  “I told Denny we needed to show Jack the Zydeco Festival in the amazing city of Natchitoches.”

  Lie.

  Looking over Patsy’s head, she saw Denny unstrapping their baby from the back seat. He straightened up and shook his head. “Don’t believe anything she says. Jack never remembers a bit of this trip.”

  Patsy let out a laugh. “Oh, you really don’t need to tell her that.”

  Patsy was always telling Henry that she could use her curse for good, to make a difference, but Henry couldn’t see how.

  “You don’t need to tell her that because she knows you so well?” Denny came up and gave Henry a kiss on the cheek. Jack reached out a chubby hand, patted Henry’s head and burbled something unintelligible.

  “Let’s just say my friend has a super power.”

  “Like flying? Or are we talking about making babies go to sleep? That would be really handy,” Denny said.

  Patsy gave Henry a wink. “I would tell you but then―”

  “She’d have to kill me? Don’t worry. I’ll let you two keep your secrets.” He wrapped his arm around Patsy. “There’s nothing like a childhood friend, right?”

  “Right,” Patsy said brightly. She turned to Henry. “And to answer your question, my aunt’s fiftieth birthday surprise party is this weekend so I thought we’d come down a few days early and annoy you.”

  Henry took a shaky breath. She hadn’t realized how lonely she’d been since she moved to Natchitoches. The friends she’d made in graduate school had all moved on and although she thought she’d been fine with the changes in her life, her own tears told a different tale. “Right,” she said. “Come on in and I’ll show you around.”

  Half an hour later, they were back in the foyer. Jack crawled around under the furniture, and Clark followed him around, arms at the ready. “I think we need this little guy to be our mascot.”

  “He says he’ll take the position,” Patsy said, laughing. “This park has such an amazing history. Tomorrow, if you have time, we’d like to see some of the other buildings.”

  “Of course,” Henry said, pride filling her chest. Her grandparents hadn’t come out to Oakland yet. Kimberly hadn’t even mentioned her job. Lisette hadn’t made it to Natchitoches from Fayetteville, not even for lunch. “I’d love that. I can give you some pamphlets to read over tonight, if you want. Then you can decide what you’d like to see most.”

  “Great idea,” Denny said. “I don’t know much about Cane River. I’ll study them tonight and then Patsy won’t look like the only good Southerner.”

  Turning to the large display, Henry started to select a few maps and folded flyers that described the park. “I’ll just give you all one of each.”

  Clark glanced through the front window. “We’ve got another visitor,” he said.

  “Busy day,” Henry said, still plucking out papers. She heard the door open and turned. “Welcome to Oakland Plantation. I’m―”

  A man stood in the doorway, large enough to block the view to the driveway. He had the same bright eyes, same careful expression as Gideon, but it wasn’t the Gideon she remembered from last night.

  “What happened to your… your…” She waved a hand around her face.

  “I shaved my beard.” He reached up and rubbed a hand over his jaw. “You don’t like it?”

  Like it. She didn’t know how exactly to answer the question. Of course she liked it. He was a good-looking man, and now that she could see his whole face, he was even more handsome. The sound of a throat clearing reminded her that she had other guests.

  “This is my friend Patsy Davidson and her husband, Denny. This is Gideon Becket. He’s head of the Natchitoches parish archives,” she said. She could see the wariness and resignation in Gideon’s eyes as he greeted them. He carried his past like a shield.

  Jack crawled out from under the desk and onto Henry’s toes. She reached down and picked him up. “And Jack,” she said. “Our new mascot.”

  Gideon looked startled for a moment, then said, “Upgrading? The archives will have to get a mascot now, too,” he said. He pretended to give her a severe look, lips pressed together, deep indents appearing on either side of his mouth.

  “Oh,” she said almost to herself. “You have dimples.”

  Gideon nodded. “My mom called them my super power. She’d say, ‘go tell old Mrs. Lumbrowski that her dogs are barking too much. And make sure to show your dimples.’ It seemed to work, too.”

  She laughed a little. “Smart woman.”

  “We were just discussing super powers,” Denny said. “Patsy is taunting me with some secret knowledge of Henry’s super power but she won’t tell me what it is.”

  “She’s a clever gal. She gets a lot done around here and keeps all the staff happy. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s got a cape somewhere,” Clark said.

  Gideon cocked his head. “Diplomacy?”

  “Nope,” Patsy said.

  “Nobody wants to play this game,” Henry said. She set little Jack on one hip and rocked gently from side to side.

  “Wait, I bet I can guess,” Gideon said, holding up a finger. “Leadership? Organizational skills? Meticulousness?”

  “No, nothing so general,” Patsy said.

  “I can probably figure it out,” Denny said. “She’s loyal, good natured, unflappable.”

  “Still too general,” Patsy said.

  Henry motioned toward the hallway. “Does anyone want coffee? Let me make a fresh―”

  Clark interrupted, “Kindness. She’s real kind. And thoughtful. That’s sure a rare trait nowadays.”

  “More specific,” Patsy said. “Or is it more general? Now I’m confusing myself.”

  “She’s a gentle sort of person. That’s rare, too,” Gideon said.

  Henry felt her mouth drop open a bit. She’d never considered herself a gentle sort. She looked down into Jack’s eyes and he gave her a toothless grin.


  “Gracious. Helpful. Empathetic,” Denny said.

  “Now you’re just making stuff up,” Henry said.

  “Elegant,” Clark said. “A lot of women think they can just put on some pretty clothes and be elegant, but it’s really something from inside.”

  “I agree,” Patsy said, nodding.

  “Y’all realize I’m standing right here,” Henry said, wondering if her face was as red as it felt.

  “Intuitive. Insightful,” Gideon said.

  “Now we’re getting somewhere,” Patsy said, holding up a hand.

  “Interesting,” Gideon said. “So, it’s something that helps her understand people.” She could almost see him remembering their conversation in that basement lit by lamplight, where they confessed their fears like children hiding under a blanket.

  “Why are you here, Gideon?” she blurted.

  There was an awkward silence and then he reached into his pocket. “I made you a copy of my key.” He held it out and she took it from him, their fingers barely touching. Jack made a grab for it but she put it in her pocket, kissing the baby’s head.

  “Oh, good. I need to run by. I couldn’t find my keys this morning. It’s not a big deal because I have a spare for my car and Charlie gave me a spare back door key when I saw her when I left for work.”

  He frowned. “I didn’t see anything last night.”

  “Well, it was late and we were tired.” She shrugged. “I only noticed after you walked me home.”

  “His key? Walked you home?” Patsy looked from one to the other.

  “It’s just an―” She started to speak at the same time as he did.

  “We’re working―”

  “― archiving project.”

  “― on some papers.”

  Henry smoothed a hand over her hair. “Sorry. Anyway, I’ll go by later and see if they’re there.”