“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 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.”
He 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 adolescence, 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 lo
oked 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.
Chapter Twenty-Five
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 hug. 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 kerosene 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 was like thunder in her ears but her heartbeat was louder.
Along the Cane River: Books 1-5 in the Inspirational Cane River Romance Series Page 57
