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

by Mary Jane Hathaway

  “That’s the way I preferred to keep it.” It seemed the whole city wanted to know what happened that night, all the horrible details. And the idea of Henry talking to Blue, her old-maybe-new boyfriend pushed a button inside and he couldn’t shake the deep feeling of betrayal. “That wasn’t your story to tell.”

  “I didn’t think it was a secret. You talked about it that night at dinner, with Bix and Ruby.”

  “They’re my friends. I don’t run around telling just anybody.”

  Her face had gone red. “I was trying to help. I didn’t realize you didn’t care whether you went back to prison or not.”

  “There are worse things,” he said. He wanted to stop himself, but he couldn’t.

  A sheen of tears appeared in her eyes but when she spoke, her voice was steady. “And I also think you should consider the fact that an old prison acquaintance might be involved. Or that man you were trying to mentor. If things ended so badly between you, he might have a motive for framing you.”

  Gideon straightened up in shock. He couldn’t have Henry saying that kind of thing around town. It was like painting a bull’s eye on her back. He thought of the man in the gas station and what he would to do someone like Henry. “Stay away from him. You have no business poking around in this. You both need to go home and let me handle it.”

  “It doesn’t look like you’re doing such a great job of handling it.” Henry was angry now. She stood up, dropping the folder to the couch. “You’ve already lost your job and as far as I know, you’re about to be charged for a murder you didn’t commit and aren’t even bothering to fight it.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “No, if anything was simple, it’s this. You’re innocent. Don’t let them put you back in prison.” Her fists were clenched at her sides.

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Then help me understand.”

  “I can’t,” he shouted.

  “Now, hold on. Everybody just take a step back.” Tom held up a hand to both of them.

  Everything had gone wrong so quickly. Gideon turned his back on the room and tried to calm down. Three months ago he never would have lost his temper like that. The control he’d so carefully built up was slipping away, like sand through his fingers, like everything else in his life.

  Gideon wished they would all just go and leave him alone. But more than anything, he wished he could go back before the fire, when his life’s work was still intact, back when Henry was his friend and a few kisses made her forget what she was saying. But if there was one thing he’d learned in his life, it was that you could never wish yourself into the past. You could only move forward. As dark and hopeless as the path was, there was no turning back.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “But you can't make people listen. They have to come round in their own time, wondering what happened and why the world blew up around them. It can't last.”

  ― Ray Bradbury

  Henry watched Gideon’s back and blinked away tears. This was a disaster. She’d come here with the best of intentions and now Father Tom had to break up their fight like a playground monitor.

  Gideon bowed his head, looking utterly defeated. Then he turned and said, “I’m sorry I yelled at you.” His voice was rough, and she could see the sorrow and shame in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry I badgered you.”

  He nodded his acceptance and it took everything she had to keep from reaching out to him. He looked exhausted. His shuttered look told her more than anything he could have shouted at her. He’d lost hope. He’d lost everything. And that was a dangerous place to be.

  She looked at Blue, then at the folder she’d left on the couch. “I can’t force you to do anything. Nothing I can say will change your mind if it’s made up, but I need to say something.”

  He waited quietly but his shoulders hunched a bit more.

  “I don’t want you to do anything foolish.”

  “Like get revenge on the person who did this?”

  “No,” she said. “That’s not what I meant.” It was hard to organize her thoughts when he was looking at her like that.

  “I can understand why you’d be concerned, but I’m not going to go on a murderous rampage.” There was the hint of something in his tone that made a chill go up her spine. It wasn’t quite a lie. It wasn’t quite the truth.

  Henry pushed up her glasses and felt her hand trembling. She looked at Father Tom, then Blue. Both of them were watching her as if she could fix the situation and she couldn’t. She was only making it worse.

  She came toward him, slipped her hand into his, hoping he wouldn’t shake off her touch. He said nothing, just closed his eyes for the briefest moment.

  “I know you,” she said. It came out in a whisper. “You’re not a murderer, Gideon. But I’m so afraid you’re just going to accept what’s happening because pointing fingers might put other people in danger.”

  “You don’t know these people, how they work, the way they can get to every person you care about.”

  “If you go back to prison, it would hurt the people you care about, too.”

  His gaze shifted from her to Father Tom, and it seemed as if a conversation passed between them. “You’re saying I have an obligation to them?”

  Henry froze. His question was vague on the surface but she heard the subtext. He was asking her. He wanted to know if he owed her anything. Now was the moment she should give a speech about how much she loved him and how she couldn’t live without him, and then he would agree to let Blue help.

  Her mouth went dry. She’d never asked anyone to stay. She’d never asked to be put first. It had always been easier to walk away at the first hint of conflict. She thought of what Patsy had said, about how she viewed everything through the lens of Kimberly’s abandonment.

  “Please let us help you. I need you here,” she said and the words sounded absurdly loud in her ears.

  “Seems a lot of people want to help me today,” he said, trying to sound as if he didn’t think much of those offers, but his eyes were soft with gratitude. “I need to shower but I can meet Blue down there in an hour.”

  Henry wanted to throw her arms around him but something in his posture kept her from getting any closer. “Thank you.”

  “It’s not as simple as you imagine,” he said, more to himself than anyone else. Guilt, shame, and something else passed over his face more quickly than she could grasp. “I just don’t want anyone―”

  “To get hurt. I know. But we can’t let you sacrifice yourself, either.” Henry was surprised at how easy it was to speak now, as if that one admission of how much she needed him cleared the way for all the words she couldn’t say before. “I won’t allow it.”

  Gideon smiled down at her and she felt her breath catch in her throat at the sight. She’d missed his voice, his smile, everything about him.

  “You’re almost as bossy as Tom is.”

  “You haven’t seen the half of it,” she said.

  ***

  Gideon headed for By the Book, noticing how empty the sidewalk was and figured most people were at work. It was strange to be wandering around the Historic District in the middle of the day. It had been a full week since he’d been fired from his job but it seemed like months. It had been the same amount of time, almost to the day, since he’d gone down to the station with Blue he’d offered to tell them what he knew.

  At first, Reisler had thought Gideon was turning in his accomplice, since Reggie’s fingerprints were a match to those found on Sandoz’s body. By the time they’d decided to bring Reggie in for questioning, he’d disappeared. A cloud of suspicion still hovered over Gideon, but the police were actively hunting another suspect. Unfortunately, that wasn’t enough for the board to clear him to come back to work.

  The sun was warm but the breeze from the river carried the reminder that Halloween was just around the corner. And with it, Duane Banner’s release from prison.

  Against his strongest instinc
ts, Gideon had also given a statement on what he’d learned in the little gas station on the way out of town. Reisler knew exactly who Gideon was describing. A well-known gang member named Rick LaRule had come back to town and although the police couldn’t prove it, the gangs extorted money from a group of small gas stations along that route. LaRule had disappeared like smoke but Gideon hadn’t expected him to be taken in for questioning. Men like that lived off the radar.

  Gideon stepped around a group of laughing teens and thought of how most of the city had no idea of the crime that lived under the surface, near the shadows. Reisler confirmed that LaRule had bunked with Banner for several years, so far the police hadn’t charged Banner with plotting to murder the informant. Gideon hadn’t been surprised. If it was true. Banner wouldn’t leave any evidence, before or after his crime.

  In exchange for the information, Gideon asked for round-the-clock police for Tom and Henry, but Reisler hadn’t thought it was necessary. Gideon walked out of the station feeling as if he’d taken an enormous risk and with no payback. Every night since then, he dreamed of Henry or Tom pleading for help, a shadowy figure lunging toward them, hands outstretched. He’d wake in a cold sweat and get out of bed, turn on all the lights and check the doors. It would take hours for the anxiety to fade, leaving him exhausted and irritable. He wished there was something, anything else he could do. But Tom was right. He had taken on the role of vigilante before and it had been the worst mistake of his life. He knew better now. All he could do was hope the police could prevent another death.

  The door to By the Book was propped open and the smell of fresh brewed coffee wafted out to greet him as he stepped through the doorway.

  “There’s my favorite historian,” Bix said as Gideon crossed the foyer. He had a pen tucked behind one ear and an armful of paperbacks. “Oh, I guess I can’t say that anymore, since Miss Henry arrived. I can’t really choose between you. I sure enjoy that gal. She just puts the pepper in the gumbo. Don’t you agree, Alice?”

  “Sure do,” Alice said, and something in her smile made Gideon wonder if there was a story there somewhere. “Scoot, Van Winkle.” She stacked papers on the desk, nudging a fat tabby cat out of the way. “I’m happy to see you out and about, Gideon. When I heard about your troubles, Paul said we needed to find you the best defense lawyer in the country, but Bix told me you already hired Blue Chalfant.”

  “I did,” he said. Alice was looking at him without a hint of fear or wariness, unlike most of Natchitoches.

  As if reading his mind, Alice said, “You’re wondering why I’m assuming you’re innocent.”

  “Well, truth be told… yes.”

  “He’s my friend. ‘Course he didn’t kill that ol’ con artist.” Bix puffed out his chest.

  Gideon appreciated Bix’s loyalty but Alice would be a fool to take his word at face value.

  “It’s because of Henry, actually. She believes you’re innocent and if she does, I will.” Alice cocked her head, a slight smile touching her lips. “I haven’t quite figured it out, but there’s something different about her. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I do.”

  “She’s a sweet gal. Real quiet, though. And she gets this funny look on her face sometimes, like she’s thinking about something far away,” Bix said, setting the books down on the counter.

  Alice said, “Well, we know you’re innocent and I hope the board gets their heads on straight and gives you back your job soon.”

  “Me, too. They’re still processing my appeal. I can understand their desire to be cautious,” Gideon said. It made him sick to imagine his leave of absence being permanent but they’d taken a chance when they hired him three years ago. It was a one-strike-you’re-out sort of situation. Gideon could only hope they would realize this wasn’t a strike.

  “It was a real shock to hear you found Barney stone cold dead, right in your own house,” Bix said.

  “I wager it was a bigger shock for Gideon than for you,” Alice said, sending him a sympathetic look.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He didn’t bother to elaborate. He hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since.

  “And rightly so,” Bix said. “And they still haven’t found the culprit?”

  Gideon shook his head.

  “Well, maybe the jambalaya feed will bring him out of hiding,” Bix said. “Nothing like a pan of sausages sizzlin’ in a pan, or the smell in the house when you got a whole fryer chicken cut up and cookin’ away in the oven. I always add a little chicken fat to my pan before I start to brown the rice. It’s real different from lard, although my cousin Shirley swears by two week old bacon grease. Says if you use it and pour it back in the jar it’s better than any―”

  “Excuse me,” Alice said, walking around the counter. “I’m just going to get some air.” Her face was pale and there was a light sheen of sweat on her forehead. A large black cat appeared at the top of the range and fixed Gideon with an accusatory stare.

  They watched her leave and then Bix said, “Shoot. I keep forgetting Miss Alice has got that sensitive stomach. She never used to be that way. We could talk food all day. Now that a baby is on the way, she can’t hardly hear about food or she gets sick.”

  Gideon blinked. He hadn’t heard Alice and Paul were expecting a baby. Of course, it was the natural step after a couple got married, but Paul spent a lot of time in New York City. If Paul didn’t change his living arrangement, he wouldn’t be there to protect them if they needed help or someone broke in. Gideon had always hated the thought of Henry living over the bookstore. Maybe some night a thief would break in, and then realize there might be better things to steal― or worse― upstairs.

  “Gideon? What can I help ya with?” Bix had a look on his face that told Gideon he’d already asked once before but he hadn’t heard him over his own anxiety.

  “I was looking for some poetry.” He waved a hand toward the section. “I’ll just go browse.”

  Bix ignored that last part and picking up a lithe, graceful cat with golden brown eyes. “Come on, Miss Elizabeth. Our book sortin’ can wait. The man needs some poetry.” He put her over one shoulder and headed for the poetry range, the cat watching him with an amused expression. A Siamese darted out from behind the counter and followed them, yowling petulantly. “And you, Mrs. Bennet. We can’t leave you behind, of course.”

  Gideon had no choice but to follow.

  “Looking for anyone in particular?”

  “Sara Teasdale. I got a collection of hers for my birthday and I’d like to see what other volumes you have in stock.”

  “Oh, we have a few others, I’m sure.” Bix turned and shot him a sly smile. “For your birthday, huh? From anybody special?”

  Gideon didn’t know how to answer so he pretended he hadn’t heard. Of course Henry was special. Henry was everything.

  “Well, here ya go.” Bix pointed to a small shelf of slim books at the far end of the range, near the wall. “Let me know if ya need anything else.”

  “I will,” he said. “Oh, Bix? I almost forgot. I have tickets to New Orleans next weekend that I can’t use. I can’t get a refund but I can transfer them to someone else. Do you think you and Ruby could use them?”

  “Oh, because of not being able to leave town? Maybe they’ll catch the guy before then and you’ll be free to travel.”

  “Even if they do, I changed my mind. I’d like you two to use them.”

  “Well, that’s mighty nice of you.” Bix considered it for a moment. “For how long?”

  “It’s just for the weekend, flying in on Saturday and out on Sunday. Maybe you could take in some live bands and do a little dancing. I can drop you off and pick you up at the airport here.”

  “Ruby would be real pleased to take a trip like that. Her cousin Bonnie lives in New Orleans and she’s always askin’ us to come on down there. It sure sounds like a good time. We haven’t been out of town for ages, not since I stopped driving. I’ll go call her up and see what she thinks.”

  Gid
eon smiled as Bix started to whistle a familiar tune and shuffle-stepped his way back down the aisle, the kitty on his shoulder swaying from the movement.

  Now that the tickets were out of his hands, he let out a sigh of relief. He’d seen Henry only a few times since that day in his living room, and he’d felt so guilty he could hardly look her in the eyes. She’d watched his face, and he was unbearably aware that if he spoke one wrong word, she would know everything. He was technically innocent of Sandoz’s murder but he’d been willing to commit another. Exhaustion, shock, losing his job, flashbacks of prison and the murder of his family had all combined into one really bad decision, but Tom had been there to break his fall. Giving those tickets to Bix and Ruby might redeem a little of that dark moment of weakness and temptation. They could take it and turn it into a beautiful memory.

  He turned back to the shelf and took a moment to appreciate what a collection Alice had arranged. In some bookstores there were multiple copies, dog-eared paperbacks next to hardbound library editions or a few modern editions next one or two tattered, turn of the century books. In By the Book, it seemed every volume had been chosen for its appearance as well as content. Shining gold leaf gleamed against warm leather spines and the books were nestled gently together, not crammed in so tightly that a careless customer could damage them trying to take it from the shelf.

  Reaching out, he slipped a Teasdale collection from its place and opened it. Sara Trevor Teasdale was born on August 8, 1884. Gideon smiled at her middle name, thinking of Henry. He flipped forward, opening the page at random, to a poem titled The Wanderer. I saw the sunset-colored sands, The Nile, like flowing fire between. He hadn’t left Louisiana more than a few times but he’d never really felt at home here, either. And many skies have covered me, and many winds have blown me forth, and I have loved the green, bright north, and I have loved the cold, sweet sea.

  He stopped to think on that, wondering if he’d ever loved any place at all. His little farmhouse had been a sanctuary, but it seemed tainted now. He loved the river, but maybe only for the fact Tom was usually with him. But what to me are north and south, and what the lire of many lands, since you have learned to catch my hands and lay a kiss upon my mouth. Gideon was hit by a powerful memory of Henry catching his hands in hers, pressing a kiss to his mouth. The image was so strong, he could almost feel the warmth of her lips and smell her shampoo.