Along the Cane River: Books 1-5 in the Inspirational Cane River Romance Series

by Mary Jane Hathaway

  “You did, that’s true. You and Bix and half of Natchitoches. Maybe I would have, too, if I’d wanted to stick my nose into someone else’s love life.” Tom loved the happy stories, the engagements and weddings and babies. He lived in constant anticipation of some impending celebration. Gideon existed in a constant state of conviction that nothing was forever and most of those people would rue the day they ever joined themselves to another human being.

  “Can we please talk about something else? Anything else. How’s the Zydeco Festival Committee? Anybody threaten to report you to the bishop yet? Usually things get pretty tense this close to the festival.”

  “Surprisingly, nobody has. Last year was a little crazier when two of the bands canceled but this year has been smoother than smooth. Except for Frank Pascal, actually. That man could pick a fight with a fencepost.”

  Gideon had decided to ignore the comment about Henry’s grandfather, but as they turned a corner, there Henry was, walking toward them, only a few feet away. He was doomed to be thrown into her path over and over. Her hair was coming loose from her ponytail and she was carrying a large paper bag in each arm. Her glasses were sliding down her nose and she nudged them up with her shoulder. She clearly hadn’t changed for her date yet, since she was still wearing the bright red dress from earlier that day. As they got closer, he could see a little frown line between her brows and she looked overwhelmed, worried.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “What?” Gideon said.

  “I said there’s Henry and she looks like she needs a hand.” Tom was already moving to intercept her and Gideon followed, wishing he could find some reason to go the other direction. He hoped she wasn’t going to talk about her date, and then he was ashamed of himself. Henry was the same person he’d passed an evening with yesterday, sorting old letters and documents. He’d enjoyed everything she’d had to say then. Nothing had changed.

  Tom took a paper bag in one arm and was already waving off Henry’s protests.

  “But now you’re carrying books and a bag of groceries while I only have one bag,” she said, laughing.

  “Well, then give Gideon the other bag,” Tom said.

  “No way,” she said, shaking her head when Gideon reached for it. “I’d have none and feel twice as indebted. I’d rather Gideon felt lazy and unhelpful.”

  He had to smile at her teasing, since that was very close to what he was feeling at that moment.

  “And weren’t you two going the other direction? You don’t have to turn around just for me,” she said.

  “It’s really not a problem,” Gideon said.

  “Especially since he’s not carrying anything,” Tom said.

  “Did you get a chance to check the basement? If not, it’s not a problem. I’ll go over there right after I drop these off.”

  “I looked but I didn’t see anything. Could they be in your apartment?”

  She shook her head. “I looked everywhere this morning and last night. I just hate to call Alice and tell her we need to change the locks. I must be her worst tenant ever.”

  Tom chuckled. “I’m pretty sure Paul has you beat there. But don’t be afraid to call her. As long as you didn’t destroy anything, she’ll likely be very understanding about it.” He shifted the books under his arm and waved off Gideon’s attempt to take them from him.

  “I’m not that type of person. Forgetful, irresponsible.” The tight line of her mouth underlined her words.

  “I think it’s better if you call her sooner, rather than later,” Gideon said.

  She nodded glumly as they turned the corner onto the busy river walk.

  “We’ll see you out on the dance floor this weekend, I hope,” Tom said. “Your grandfather takes his role on the planning committee very seriously.”

  “Of course,” Henry said, but she didn’t have the look of a woman who was looking forward to a dance. Gideon wondered if Henry didn’t enjoy dancing, or if she was worried about Kimberly Gray making an appearance.

  A large man stepped directly into her path and Gideon tensed, almost jumping between them. He’d been so intent on her expression he hadn’t seen Barney Sandoz on the sidewalk. “Miss Byrne.” Sandoz’s button up shirt was stained with sweat at the armpits.

  “How do you do?” Henry nodded to him and Gideon noted the faintest flicker of distaste in her expression.

  “Honey, you never called me about those excavation projects you have goin’ on,” he said. He crossed his arms over his chest, not bothering to greet Tom or Gideon.

  “And why would she do that?” Gideon asked.

  Sandoz turned slowly in his direction. “Sure, she could call any ol’ historian but she’d best be calling me because she needs someone trustworthy.” He enunciated the word as if Gideon were hard of hearing.

  “Hey, now,” Tom said, shifting his feet. Gideon glanced at him. Did he think they were going to have a fistfight over Henry?

  “Miss Byrne, you should be a mite more careful of the company you keep,” Sandoz said, not breaking eye contact with Gideon. “People in this lil ol’ town will talk. You’re playin’ a dangerous game, even if you’re out in public and being chaperoned by a man in a dog collar.”

  Gideon could hardly hear over the blood rushing in his ears. Bringing up Gideon’s past was fine, but Sandoz was treading on thin ice when he brought Tom into it.

  “Thank you for your advice, Mr. Sandoz,” Henry said and walked away. She didn’t look back to see if Gideon or Tom were following her.

  Sandoz opened his mouth as if to call after her and then seemed to change his mind. His face went dark and he shook his finger inches from Gideon’s nose. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. I know what you’ve done and who you are. You can’t fool me. I know the truth.”

  Gideon felt his insides turn cold. Once upon a time he’d thought he’d known the truth, and he was still dealing with the fall out from his choices then. “What are you talking about? What truth?”

  “You know what I mean.” Sandoz spat the words in his direction and walked away.

  Gideon felt Tom’s hand on his arm. “Let it go,” he murmured.

  “What did he mean?” He could hear the fear in his own voice.

  “It’s nothing. He’s trying to get you riled up. Don’t pay him any mind.” Tom said. “Let’s take Henry’s groceries home and then we can get out of this crowd.”

  He looked up, seeing for the first time the curious gazes of several people who had stopped to watch the argument. Shame washed over him and he nodded. It had been a long time since anyone had ever been able to get under his skin that way.

  A minute later, they caught up with her just as she reached her door.

  “I’m so sorry―” she started.

  “I apologize―” Gideon said.

  He stopped and let out a breath. “I apologize for getting you into that.”

  “Into what?” She shifted the bag onto her other hip. “Barney Sandoz is a very unpleasant person and possibly a thief, although I can’t prove it.”

  “A thief?” Tom asked.

  “He wants to be part of the excavation project without really saying why. He talks around me instead of to me. My mamere says people like that could find a loophole in a stop sign and I don’t want him near my crew.” She looked fierce and Gideon wondered how Sandoz had the guts to approach her more than once. “Again, I can’t prove it but I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s looking for something to steal. Early Americana items are worth a pretty penny on the antique market. I’ve got better sense than to let someone without credentials walk onto out our site and start digging around.”

  Intuitive. Insightful. He thought of Patsy’s delighted smile at his guesses. Henry had good sense, but maybe it was more than that.

  “Anyway, I’m sorry you had to be part of that ugliness.” She ran a free hand over her hair. “Thank you for giving me a hand, Father Tom. I appreciate it.”

  “Not a problem,” he said, handing over the bag
. “Are you making a pot of jambalaya for St. Augustine’s jambalaya feed? It’s in late October. I think we’ll have quite a crowd. You like to cook, right?”

  “Of course,” she said and then looked up into Gideon’s eyes.

  He lifted an eyebrow. Not more than twenty four hours ago, she’d told him she couldn’t cook at all.

  “I mean, Gideon offered to lend me a hand. We’ll bring two pots.” He could hear the laughter lurking in her words.

  Tom looked from Henry to Gideon. “Is that so?”

  “It is. Just so,” he said. He loved the way Henry’s eyes scrunched up when she was trying not to laugh.

  “Well, lookey, it’s a party and I wasn’t invited,” Blue Chalfant said, coming toward them. Gideon covered his surprise. That was the second time in less than an hour that someone had walked up to him and he hadn’t noticed until they were only feet away.

  Blue shook hands with Tom and Gideon, beaming around at the group, his gaze resting on Henry.

  “Hi, Blue. How’s the new practice coming along?” Tom asked.

  Bernice had bragged for weeks when her nephew had come home to Natchitoches and opened his law office. Gideon liked to hear young people were returning to the Cane River area as much as the next person, but he hoped they weren’t in for a long lecture on his practice.

  “It’s been a great day, Father Tom. I just signed another client and I’ve got a date. We’re going for ribs at The Red Hen.”

  Henry’s face went pink and she glanced back at the door. “And I’m nowhere near ready, so I’d better get going.”

  The pieces fell together and Gideon suddenly wished they’d never run into Henry, never walked her back to her apartment, never seen Blue Chalfant, standing there in all his eagerness and optimism. Gideon wondered what she thought when she looked at the three of them together. A lawyer, a priest, and a murderer walk into a bookstore...

  “Can I help you bring those upstairs?” Blue was already reaching for the door.

  “Nope, I’m perfectly able to handle it from here.” She softened her words with a smile. “Thank you,” she said, and then looked from Blue to Gideon and Tom. “All of you.”

  “Anytime,” Tom said.

  They stood there for a moment, watching her disappear inside. This door alone you might not open, and you did. She said she hated first dates and all the prying questions, but maybe Blue was an exception. He could see why.

  Blue looked around and said, “Well, I’d better go home and get spiffed up. I’m so glad I ran into Henry. I’d been avoiding her since she moved in because my Aunt Bernice kept telling me to look her up. She made such a big deal out of it, I thought there must be something wrong with her. You know how relatives are, always shoving single girls at you from every direction.”

  “Not really, no,” Tom said.

  Blue laughed, showing off his perfect smile. Gideon had never really noticed much before, but Blue was a good-looking kid. He was tall, fit, and had the natural ease of someone born to into an old Southern family.

  “See you later,” Gideon said. He should wish him luck on his date but he couldn’t seem to manage it.

  “You, too,” he said and then he was gone. Tom fell into step beside Gideon as they turned back down the river walk.

  “Well,” Tom said.

  “Yep,” Gideon answered.

  “I didn’t feel like ribs anyway. Let’s get biscuits and ham at the Pastime Cafe.” Tom’s voice held a note of sympathy that Gideon rarely heard. He hated that Tom felt sorry for him, but he was feeling sort of sorry for himself, too.

  His head was filled with alternating themes of ‘I told you so’ and ‘this is ridiculous’. He didn’t want to feel what he was feeling, nor did he want to look too closely at it. The only thing he knew for sure was that a woman like Henry deserved a man like Blue, if she chose anyone.

  “Biscuits and ham sound fine,” he said and refocused on the horizon as they walked. There was something about Henry that made him rethink his life, but losing sight of the life he’d created in Natchitoches was a recipe for disaster. He needed to be content with what he had, and not chase after an impossible dream. Guys like Gideon didn’t get the girl.

  Chapter Eight

  “How many loved your moments of glad grace,

  And loved your beauty, with love false or true,

  But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,

  And loved the sorrows of your changeling face.”

  ―Yeats, When You Are Old

  “You look really nice,” Blue said, reaching out for her hand. He’d been early and she’d barely opened the door before he was right there.

  Truth.

  “Thank you,” she said. She resisted the urge to tug at the neckline of her dress. She usually stayed firmly in the office wear section but her mamere had given her this dress for Christmas last year. It was a little tighter, a little lower cut, and a little brighter than she would have chosen, but it was definitely a good first date dress.

  “Look at all these people. Isn’t it wonderful to see tourists come from all over to hear zydeco music? It makes me proud to be Creole.”

  Truth.

  “Me, too. It’s fun to see people experience a live music festival for the first time. And zydeco should always be live. With lots of dancers, if possible,” she said.

  They stepped aside as a group of teens laughing and talking loudly passed by. She looked up and caught Blue’s eye, and smiled when he squeezed her hand. He actually seemed to enjoy the hustle of the influx of tourists. Most locals said they did, because it was good for business, but they resented the Northern accents, the screaming toddlers, and seniors decorated with fanny packs and cameras.

  Maybe this date wouldn’t be like all the others. Not that there had been so many others.

  “I just saw your aunt coming out of Shorty’s Bar and Grill. Poor woman could hardly get out the door,” he said. “It must be a real curse to be so beautiful.”

  Henry swallowed hard. Not a big deal. One reference to Kimberly did not ruin a date.

  “She needs bodyguards just to go to dinner. I don’t know how she manages. It must be frightening,” Blue said.

  Henry felt her stomach tighten. She wanted to say that if Kimberly found it so hard to go to dinner, maybe she should rent out the restaurant for the night. But she didn’t. When celebrities wanted a quiet meal, not a media circus, they managed it. But Kimberly knew how to please her fans. Some would be glad of a chance to get close and touch her, ask for a picture or an autograph, even if they got dragged away. And the others would feel deep sympathy for the poor, beautiful woman who couldn’t risk walking out the door without being mobbed.

  “Was it hard growing up related to her? I can imagine it got really tiresome, especially with how different you are,” he said. “I mean, you’re not― she’s really―.”

  Henry threw him a smile. “I’m not offended. We’re really different in appearance. When people bring it up, I just tell them it’s a good thing I’m a historian and not a movie star.”

  He seemed chastened. “Every guy you meet probably asks what she’s really like or if they can get a picture of her. You must get kind of tired of hearing how beautiful she is.”

  Not everybody. Not Gideon. “Oh, I used to, sure, especially as a teenager. But I’ve learned not to take it personally.”

  They stopped in front of The Red Hen and he let go of her hand to open the door. Henry had always loved the little café for its homey décor, the little tables covered with flowered cloths and set with a milk glass vase full of simple flowers. She breathed in the familiar smell of hot biscuits, fried chicken, and the spicy sauce of the famous barbeque ribs. Nita bustled toward them, tucking a pen into the front pocket of her pink apron.

  “Hey there, Henry. Hey, Blue.” The waitress grabbed Henry and squeezed her tight. Nita’s hugs weren’t the short and polite variety. She aimed to let you know you’d been hugged. “Your granddaddy was just in here with your aunty. He a
bout threw a dyin’ duck fit, what with all the folks who came up and bothered them while they was a-tryin’ to have their supper.”

  “I can imagine,” Henry said, her words sounding a little breathless from the squeezing.

  She was released and then it was Blue’s turn. Nita ended her hug by leaning back, cupping his face in both hands and saying, “I say, you look more like your great aunt Lucille every day.”

  “That so?” Blue said, the corners of his mouth twitching.

  “Or maybe Eloise, your second cousin. Whichever one, it’s powerful clear you’re kin to them.” She brushed down her apron and looked around. The room was packed with families, and more than a few curious gazes were fixed on their little group. “Let me find you a quiet little place out of the way of pryin’ eyes.”

  As she led them to a table in a corner, Blue looked back and winked. Henry threw him a sympathetic smile. This would be fun. He might not ask that many questions. Maybe he would share about himself and his family.

  As Blue pulled out her chair and she settled into it, Gideon’s face popped into her mind. As Blue sat down opposite from her, his dark eyes reflecting back the flicker of the little tea light on the table, Henry admitted to herself, for the tiniest moment, that she wished Gideon was in his place. If Gideon asked her questions, she would answer them honestly. If Gideon talked about his family, she would lean forward and listen, instead of looking around the room so she didn’t catch all the clues that made up a lie.

  Henry tightened her ponytail and smiled across the table at Blue. Her whole life it seemed she always yearned for what she couldn’t have, and was always disappointed. It was better to pretend and keep that dusty room of secrets shut tight inside. Not all lies were bad. Not all stories had to be told.

  ****

  Gideon settled on the bench across from By the Book. At almost midnight on a weekday, the river walk should have been empty, but with the festival so near, it was only just now slowly clearing of tourists and revelers. Beside the occasional car passing by, the only sound was the gently lapping of the river against the bank behind him.