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

by Mary Jane Hathaway

  “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.”

  He let out a soft laugh. “Don’t you see? It’s all connected. Something― or someone, made you reconsider your hermit-like existence. It started the process,” Tom said. “You can’t go back now, Gideon. You can’t put the poop back in the horse.”

  The impossible task. Vince always said that and Gideon remembered how it always made them laugh as kids.

  “If I can’t go back, what do I do?”

  Tom was quiet for a moment. “You have to decide. Certain things could trigger a violent outburst, make you do something you wish you hadn’t. Do you stay where you are, trying to avoid anything that might set you off? Or do you move forward?”

  Gideon looked at his hands, wishing there was some wisdom written there, some sign. “Moving forward sounds good when you say it like that. Sounds real simple.”

  “You know it won’t be a good time, that’s for sure,” Tom said. “But you have to make a choice. Is she worth it? Do you try to get to the bottom of what happened and see if you can find some peace? Or do you turn away from someone who loves you?”

  Love. He wanted to ask Tom if he really thought Henry loved him, but he couldn’t.

  Tom went on, “Sure, you could try to backtrack from your friendship, or whatever it is. Get some distance. But eventually she’ll move on and you just might regret choosing the easy way out of this.”

  Gideon tried not to think of how he’d feel watching Henry move on with someone else. He didn’t even have to consider it. He would do anything to have a chance with her. But as much as he dreaded reliving what happened that cold, dark night when he was five, there was something else that scared him even more.

  If he took that step, it would be the Domino that toppled all the issues he’d so carefully set aside. Sally and Vince, Austin- all those pieces would start to wobble. He couldn’t hope to fight his demons and leave all of that unresolved. Healing didn’t work that way. It demanded more, it gathered the hurt and disconnected bits inward until everything was complete. And that wouldn’t be painless.

  “Okay,” he said.

  “Okay?”

  “You know I never take the easy way,” Gideon said a mixture of fear and hope rising in him.

  “Understatement, my friend.” Tom walked toward Gideon, wrapping him in a hug. He thumped him on the back a few times, let go and walked to the door.

  “Oh, and I’m glad you’re not avoiding Henry because she’s coming with us next Saturday. If you haven’t made your move yet, I think it would be a perfect time. Nothing says romance like a nature hike, a scenic view and seven elderly priests.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The sun, the moon, and the truth― three things that can’t stay hidden.

  ― Old proverb

  “So, when are y’all going out?” Patsy’s voice was muffled and Henry could imagine her holding the phone against her shoulder, carrying Jack in one arm and the diaper bag in the other.

  “I’m not sure. We never got that far.” Henry actually hadn’t let him finish his sentence.

  “Oh, really?” Patsy drawled out the word. “No need for words, huh? I get where you’re going. No need to elaborate, Sherlock.”

  “Funny. That’s not what I meant. We were standing on the street and I was late so, I’m sure he’ll call me.” At least, she hoped he would. She hadn’t seen him Sunday and it was already Thursday morning and she hadn’t heard anything. “This isn’t junior high. I’m not sitting by the phone.”

  “Sure. Of course not. That would be silly.”

  Henry sometimes hated how well Patsy could guess Henry’s state of mind. “When are y’all coming back to town?”

  “Friday morning. Could you get the afternoon off? We should do some shopping. And I don’t mean just hit the book stores. I mean shoes.”

  “For an entomologist, you sure do a lot of shoe shopping,” Henry said.

  “It hurts me that you think those two things are exclusive,” Patsy said. “Of course, this is only if you don’t have to hang out with Kimberly.”

  “No. I think she went home to Los Angeles,” Henry said. She felt a surge of guilt at the words. Even though she’d been right and everything she’d said was true, she’d hurt Kimberly. When she closed her e
yes, she saw Kimberly’s face filled with horror and pain. Patsy had been urging Henry to have the talk with Kimberly for years, but now that it had happened, Henry was too ashamed to tell her about it. Her neck went hot just remember her cruel words.

  “Whenever Gideon decides to give you details, just let me know and we’ll work around it. Friday afternoon, if you can. Maybe even Saturday if I can get out from under my aunts.”

  “Oh, I completely forgot. Saturday morning is out. I’m driving some retired priests to Mount Driskill for a field trip.”

  There was a short silence. “I’m not even sure if I want to know the full story.”

  “Well, Father Tom and Gideon are driving the other two cars, so it’s not like I’m stealing them away by myself,” Henry said.

  “Hm.”

  “Gideon isn’t the reason I’m helping out,” Henry said.

  “Of course not. You always drive old priests on field trips.”

  Henry decided she’d never win the conversation so she switched topics. “I’ll let you know, as soon as I hear anything.”

  “Call me with all the details,” Patsy said. “I’m not kidding. Gideon is the most exciting thing that’s happened in years. I need all the news.”

  “See you Friday.”

  “With all the details,” Patsy reminded her.

  “Sure thing.” Of course, Henry had no intention of doing anything of the sort.

  ***

  Gideon replayed his conversation with Cora in his mind as he walked toward the Finnemore house. She’d agreed that his mentor relationship with Reggie had failed. Although she assured Gideon that he was still welcome to mentor and that she believed he wasn’t a violent man, he sensed her surprise and dismay. All he could do was reiterate his apology and state that he was working through some things. It had been a long time since he’d eaten so much humble pie.

  He turned the corner and the house came into view. He felt his hands start to sweat. He hadn’t called Henry yet. He’d been swinging between the need to hear her voice and the fear of trying to navigate the details of their date over the phone. He’d almost gone to Oakland Plantation but then wondered if she’d feel crowded. He didn’t want to be a pest. He’d see her soon, either in the basement working, or at the latest, on Saturday. Of course, with all those priests in tow, it might not be the best time, either.

  There was a chance she was working right now. Not a strong chance, but still. He smoothed down his shirt and tried to remember they were both adults. There wasn’t any reason for any angst or drama. If he and Henry decided it just wasn’t working, they could still be friends. There wasn’t any reason to be so unnerved. That’s what he told himself as he walked toward the house, but the truth was that he felt less anxious when he lived in a prison filled with murderers. The realization that he was more afraid of dating Henry than being roommates with convicted felons was a blow to his ego.

  He looked up and caught a flash of dark clothing near the basement steps. He slowed, watching a man emerge from the stairwell. His head was down and covered with the hood of an old sweatshirt. Gideon stepped out of the man’s line of sight and waited until he reached the sidewalk.

  “Hello, there.” He kept his voice light and friendly.

  Barney Sandoz looked up with such an expression of fear and horror that it would have been funny if Gideon wanted to scare him. As it was, Gideon was trying his hardest to make sure he didn’t have a repeat of last Saturday’s rage fest.

  “Did you need something? I have a key to the basement,” he said.

  Sandoz shook his head, eyes wide. He didn’t seem like he was able to form words at the moment.

  “I heard through the grapevine that you had an interest in Arthur’s collection. He left it to me but I’d be glad to let you take a look at it sometime.” A well-supervised look, of course.

  “No, I’m just checking on the house. I’m buying it and need to clean out that basement.” Sandoz’s voice shook a little bit he spoke but his eyes were narrowed.

  “You are?” Gideon turned and looked back at the house. “I knew they were getting it ready to sell. I guess I’ll have to move that collection out of the basement this weekend, then.”

  “Actually, everything in the house is mine. That was written in the offer I made on the house.” Sandoz stood up straighter, as if he was finally getting his nerve back.

  “No, it doesn’t work that way. You can have everything else. Not the collection.” Gideon dropped the friendly tone.

  Sandoz turned and started walking quickly toward the river walk. “I’ve put a lock on the door. Just to keep it safe. You know, from thieves.”

  “Like yourself, you mean.” Gideon kept up with him, step for step. “I saw what you did to the door.”

  “You don’t have any proof.” Sandoz reached the river walk. “You stay out of the basement and away from the collection. It’s mine. I paid for it.”

  “You didn’t pay for anything. It’s not yours.” He towered over him, hands at his side, breathing evenly. He didn’t want to cross any lines but Sandoz needed to know Gideon wouldn’t back down.

  “I heard what you done to Reggie. He says he’s gonna make sure Nightmare Jones and his pals pay you a visit.” Sandoz smirked. “I know who has the power in this town.”

  Shock flashed through his system. He’d pegged Sandoz for a small-time thief and crack local historian who liked to stick his nose in every project, but if he was dropping names from Angola, Sandoz was a whole different kind of man. Nightmare Jones might be on death row, but he had power. He had men in every major Southern city who would die for him, or kill for him. Gideon spent years staying invisible to men like that.

  “If they do, I’ll be ready. But you better be ready, too,” Gideon said.

  Sandoz looked around at the people wandering passed and then raised his voice. “Don’t touch me! You can’t threaten me, I have rights. I’ll call the police and report you.”

  “Nobody’s threatening you. I meant that you’d better watch your back where Nightmare Jones and his posse are concerned. He’s not the type to―”

  Sandoz stumbled backward, clutching his chest. “I said don’t touch me,” he yelled. A man carrying a grocery sack stopped to watch them. Two women on the other side whispered to each other.

  “Shut up. Nobody’s hurting you,” he said, feeling his face go hot. Sandoz wasn’t only more than a petty criminal, he knew how to play the game.

  “You can’t make me keep quiet. I know what you did,” Sandoz was glancing around, a half smirk mixing with his expression of fake horror.

  Feeling fury rise up in him, Gideon took a step in his direction. It was the wrong move.

  “Help, help,” Sandoz yelled and turned, running into Lorena’s Grocery store.

  Gideon stood there for a moment, wanting to go after the man and knowing that it would only make it worse. Little creep. He ignored all the whispers and stares as he turned back to Finnemore house.

  Whatever Sandoz thought he could do with the basement collection, the reality was that it was Cane River Creole history. It didn’t belong to anyone. Gideon legally owned those papers, but he would only claim it that so he could complete the project. All of it belonged to the people of Natchitoches.

  He reached the basement door and felt a wave of pure anger sweep through him at the sight of a giant padlock attached to the frame. Looking more closely, he was thankful that while Sandoz may have friends in low places, he didn’t have the brains to really board the place up tight. Gideon took out his Swiss Army knife and using the mini screw driver, made quick work of the metal plate attached to the big oak door. He let the padlock swing to the side, intact.

  Shaking his head at the fact that Sandoz thought a padlock could keep him out, Gideon walked inside. The dim interior looked exactly the same but he lit all the lamps and did a thorough accounting of the boxes, just in case. Gideon still felt the urge to check every pile that had been sorted, catalogued and scanned. He was just looking at
the last stack when he heard a noise at the door and whirled around, hands at the ready, imagining the tattooed and sneering faces he remembered from prison.

  “Hey,” Henry said. She sounded a little wary, or nervous. He wasn’t sure which. Her hair was back up in a ponytail and the glasses were in place.

  “Hey.” He walked forward, fighting back the frightening images his brain had supplied. As he came closer, she moved as if she wanted to touch him but wasn’t sure how. Gideon thought of giving her a hug, but by the time he’d decided to try it, the moment had passed and she’d turned around.

  “What’s going on with the big lock?” she asked, jerking a thumb toward the door.

  Gideon explained about Barney Sandoz and his bid on the house, but he omitted the connection to Reggie and the prison gang members. Thinking of Reggie made him flush with shame and he hurried on with his story, skipping over the fight on the sidewalk and ending with Sandoz insisting he owned the papers.

  “We need to remove these now,” she said. She looked toward the boxes. “I wish I had a truck. Do you know anyone with a truck?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll call Tom and see if he knows anyone. But I don’t think Sandoz can get in here. Everything looks the same. Let’s try to get some work done, then I’ll put the padlock back the way it was. That should buy us some time to move the collection.”

  “Sounds good.” There was something off in her voice but he couldn’t quite figure out what. She reached up and tightened her ponytail, wincing a little. “Let’s get to work.”

  Gideon pulled out his phone and dialed Tom, leaving a quick message when he didn’t answer. Bringing over another box, he set it on her side of the table. Maybe she felt unappreciated. He’d always worked alone and it hadn’t occurred to him to tell her how glad he was for the help and what a wonderful job she did.

  She looked up and the lamplight flickered against her glasses. He wished she’d take them off so he could see her eyes. “Is something wrong?” she asked.