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

by Mary Jane Hathaway

  Every moment they weren’t together, he missed her presence. The day she asked him to fight for his innocence, she’d taken his hand and spoken her truth as plainly as she could. She needed him, and he would never forget it. He wasn’t sure how they’d work their way back to where they’d been before the fire, but he was patient.

  “Fancy meeting you here.”

  He turned, wondering if the power of the poem and his own memory had somehow conjured her up, like a dream. Henry stood there, hair loose around her shoulders. The pale blue of her top made her eyes seem very green, even from where he stood. Her tone was all sass, but the nervous way she fiddled with her watch strap was the real Henry.

  “I heard all the smartest girls hang out in the poetry section so I thought I’d see who turned up.”

  She raised an eyebrow and walked toward him. “You’re looking for a girl?”

  “Only one,” he said. If Tom were here, he’d be groaning at the awkward flirting but it was the best Gideon could do.

  “You do have my phone number.”

  He wanted to slip an arm around her waist and bring her close. He would press a kiss into her hair and let himself savor the feel of her, all soft curves to his angles, fitting perfectly to him as if made to be there. Instead, he said, “You’ve started me on a Sara Teasdale binge. I like this one called The Wanderer.” He read it for her slowly, letting the last few lines linger in the air between them.

  “I don’t think I really understood that poem until now,” she said and everything she felt for him was there in her eyes.

  “It’s sort of perfect, isn’t it?”

  “It is. Everything is,” she said. Then she held up a finger. “All that’s left is for you to be cleared to go back to the archives, and find a good place to work on what’s left of the Cane River collection. Your database has been on hold for a week or two but no more. We’ve got to get back to sorting and scanning, and then life will be perfect.”

  Gideon smiled. There were so many other things Henry could have listed. She truly loved Cane River history as much as he did. “Well, prepare for perfection because Peter Breaux said we could use his empty office space. He’s been trying to rent it out but didn’t have any luck. I can’t keep the boxes at the archives any longer…” His voice trailed off. He didn’t know if he’d ever get to return as director. “Anyway, it’s only a block from here, and it’s small, but there’s enough room for a table, the scanner, and the two of us. I wish we had someplace more comfortable but―”

  “We were working in a moldy basement without electricity and it was just fine. It was more than fine.”

  Her gaze flicked down to his mouth and he wanted to answer her with a kiss, but the sound of Bix whistling nearby reminded him where they were, and the tickets he’d given away. He hesitated and a moment later, the opportunity was gone.

  “Is everything okay?” Her tone was suddenly wary.

  “Sure. Everything is fine.”

  Her eyes widened just a bit and he wondered what he sounded like to Henry, how ugly the lie looked to her.

  “It’s been a tough week for you,” she said.

  “Right. A lot to take in.” He had the oddest feeling that she was hoping to draw the truth out of him and for the first time, he felt panic in the face of her ability. Her gaze was so steady, as if every detail, every flicker of emotion was being filed away and analyzed. He stared right back, forcing the tickets into the back of his mind. None of that mattered now. They’d once agreed, right in this very store, almost in this very spot, that not every secret had to be shared. After a moment she looked away and he let out a breath.

  “Yet this alone out of my life I kept unto myself,” he said.

  “Bluebeard again?”

  “Sorry, yes.” He closed the book. “Wrong poet, different topic.”

  She was quiet for a moment, tracing the spines of the books with one finger. “You’re welcome to come into that place I’ve kept to myself, if you want. There’s not much there. Some bad memories, a few crazy fears.”

  He knew what she was offering him, and how much it cost her to say it. “Is there anything in there about why you stopped answering my calls?”

  “I don’t know if this is the time to―”

  “No, no, of course. Some other day. I was just curious.”

  But then she seemed to change her mind and turned to face him, shoulders back, anxiety in every line of her body. “That day, when you went into the fire...”

  “You were angry because you didn’t want me to get hurt.” That was Tom’s explanation.

  “Yes. Well, no,” she said. “Not quite. It’s… hard to explain.” She searched the titles on the shelves, as if there were an answer there somewhere. “I felt if you really cared for me, you wouldn’t put yourself in danger.”

  He frowned, struggling to find the subtle difference between the two.

  “I took it personally.”

  Not everybody loved a hero. Some people didn’t want to be the ones waiting at home, hoping their loved one would return. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

  “Right. I was worried, but it was more. The truth is that…” Her voice trembled on the last word but she looked up, determination written on her face. “You didn’t know it, so I can’t blame you, but the truth is that you carried my heart with you.”

  He couldn’t think of a single word to say. He wanted to rewind the moment, memorize the look in her eyes. He was standing there, lies on his lips, and she was handing him her heart. He didn’t deserve her. He never had.

  “You did that day, and you still do.” She lifted his hand and kissed his palm. “Now that I’ve told you, I have to ask you to do something for me.”

  “Anything.” She could ask for the moon. He would go any distance, fight any enemy, even sacrifice himself if that’s what she needed.

  “You have to take care of this man.” She reached out and put her hand on his chest. “You can’t put him in danger. You can’t be careless with his life. Or his freedom.”

  Her last word echoed in his ears and guilt flashed through him. For one moment, he considered confessing everything: his plan to murder Duane Banner, how Tom had convinced him to wait, the slow realization that he’d been so very wrong.

  “I will.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered. She stepped toward him and he opened his arms in time for her to relax against him, her ear somewhere over his heart.

  Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed the top of her head, wonder filling him. He wanted to tell her that he loved her more than life itself but all he could do was hold her close, as if shielding her from the world. The words gathered in his throat but he kept them in. Right now, life was perfect, balanced on an invisible knife’s edge. He couldn’t do anything to risk losing her again.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  You may choose to look the other way,

  but you can never say again that you did not know.

  ―William Wilberforce

  “Hey, you two. Break it up. I don’t wanna have to call your folks,” Bix called as he passed the aisle.

  Henry laughed into the front of Gideon’s shirt. “He’s bluffing. Ignore him.”

  “I’m not so sure. I think we should heed the warning.”

  “Or at least move ourselves somewhere more private,” she said. A moment later her face went hot. “That sounded― I didn’t mean...”

  “Is that an invitation?” His voice dropped an octave. “Excellent. I’ve never seen your apartment.”

  She swatted his arm. “Get away with you. You’ll see it soon enough when you teach me how to cook jambalaya.”

  “I don’t even get a preview of the kitchen?” he asked and lowered his head to nuzzle her ear.

  His stubble tickled the sensitive skin near her jaw and she cleared her throat. “For a guy who claims not to have any experience with women, you’re mighty forward.”

  “I mean it,” Bix called as he passed by again. “I’m fixin’ to find Fran
k and Birdie’s number in the book.”

  “I sure don’t want your mamere down here after me.”

  She couldn’t help a little sigh as he moved away. When he was close to her she felt whole, complete. She didn’t even fight it anymore. She’d conquered the fear that kept her from opening her heart to him. “I only came to bother you because as I was heading out the back door, I saw Alice outside and she told me you were in here. I’m headed back to Oakland for an evening tour.”

  “You don’t usually give tours so late, do you?” There was a little frown line between his brows.

  “No, but it’s a motorcycle group who scheduled the tour a few weeks ago. They’re visiting all the major historical sites along Red River. They called this afternoon and said they’d be late and asked whether we should schedule it for tomorrow.” Henry shrugged. “Tomorrow didn’t work so I told them to let me know when they arrived.”

  “Motorcycle group?” He didn’t seem to have heard anything else.

  “Not what you’re thinking. Less Hell’s Angels, and more retired folks seeing the country.” Henry couldn’t help smiling a little at his expression. He was so protective. She’d never had anyone worry about her before.

  “Will there be anyone else there? You shouldn’t go alone.” His expression was deadly serious.

  “You’re adorable, but I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself.”

  He looked like he was going to argue, but a sound far above caught their attention and they both looked up at the large black cat perched on the top of the range.

  “They say he’s really friendly,” Henry said. “But there must be a reason they called him Mr. Darcy.”

  “I don’t think he appreciates us in his bookstore.” He shot one more glance at the cat and turned back to Henry. “I’ll stay out of the way. No one will even know I’m there.”

  She forced back a laugh. Of all the many things Gideon could be, unobtrusive was not one of them. She imagined him skulking in the corner like Mr. Darcy would make it worse than actually speaking to the visitors. “It’ll be fine. Father Tom is just a few miles away.”

  “If he’s home. He’s not always at the parish house.” Gideon looked like he was making up his mind to come along.

  She hesitated, not wanting to bring it up, but then reminded herself that she didn’t have any secrets from Gideon. “I talked to them on the phone and I know he was telling the truth. Harmless retirees running behind schedule.”

  She could see the tension drain away. “That’s right. I forgot your…”

  “Special skill?” Their fingers were linked together and she looked down at their hands. She hadn’t wanted to bring it up. He’d lied to her just a few minutes ago. She could have forced the issue but she didn’t. He was clearly struggling and as much as she wished he would confide in her, she understood why he didn’t. Everyone deserved a little privacy. She couldn’t expect him to share every fear and worry. He needed his space.

  “I’ve missed you,” he said, as if he knew what she was thinking. “This week seemed like a hundred years. I miss working with you. I miss having you pop into my office.”

  She shot him a look, remembering the last time she’d visited his office, but he was somber, almost sad. “Me, too. I would like nothing better than to have you next to me every free minute of every day,” she said softly. “But I guess real life means we only get to see each other here and there.”

  “Maybe we should fix that,” he said.

  Truth.

  She felt her mouth drop open as his meaning sunk in to her heart. He looked a little startled but he didn’t take the words back. He held her gaze and lifted one shoulder in a “what can I say?” sort of shrug.

  “Maybe so,” she said, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “And I really need to go. I’ll call you when I’m done with the tour so you know everything went okay.”

  She gave him a quick kiss and turned, making her way back down the aisle on unsteady legs. She nearly ran over a fluffy gray cat passing through the foyer and she thought Bix might have called out a farewell, but she couldn’t be sure. Her head was buzzing with a hundred different thoughts, and her heart was bursting with excitement and happiness. Everything was a blur. Of all the things she thought would happen today, a spur of the moment proposal by Gideon was not one of them.

  Pushing the door and stepping into the fall sunshine, Henry couldn’t keep the smile from spreading over her face. When she moved to Natchitoches, she was resolved to always being alone. She’d had one friend, no real family, and a good day was when she didn’t have to talk to anyone at all. Turning the corner to where her car was parked, Henry breathed in the fresh autumn air. So much had changed in so little time.

  She paused as she reached the car, looking up into the bright, cloudless sky. Everything she’d known had been flipped upside down. Her whole life she’d been hiding her secrets and scars, sure that was the only way she could be safe.

  And then she’d met Gideon. He’d listened to what she didn’t say, listened to her silence in a way no one else had. She hadn’t realized how tired she was carrying around that shame and sorrow. She never could have guessed that another person would offer the only safe place she could lay it all down.

  She knew Gideon had meant what he’d said back in the bookstore. Of course he hadn’t planned to say it, and of course it wasn’t the right time, but he was sincere. She heard the subtext of his words, and she knew what her answer would be, when the time came to give one.

  Yes.

  ***

  Gideon paced his living room. Maybe it was because he’d been away from work for a whole week. Maybe it was the fact that Duane Banner was only a few days from his release and the police still hadn’t confirmed that they were protecting the man who testified against him. Maybe it was because his home, the place he’d always felt at peace, seemed irreparably changed by Sandoz’s death. Whatever it was, he couldn’t take one more minute of watching the clock.

  Henry said she’d call when she was done and it was almost eight. She’d probably forgotten. He held the phone in his hand, debating whether his peace of mind was worth the possibility of interrupting her tour. He couldn’t bring himself to do it and put it back in his pocket. Trying to stretch the tight muscles in his shoulders, he reminded himself that his anxiety was simply a byproduct of his own fears. It had nothing to do with Henry.

  He settled on the couch and tried to read a few lines, forcing away the feeling of impending doom. There were so many unknowns, so many loose ends. He’d spent the last week swinging between wanting to give Henry every detail he had, and wanting to keep her safe. In the end, he’d shared everything with the police, and said nothing to Henry. The less she knew, the better.

  The next moment he dropped the book and stood up. He’d go lift for a while, burn off nervous energy. Walking out into the small garage, he slipped weights onto the bar and settled onto the bench. After a few minutes, his body picked up the rhythm. Pushing the bar above his head and slowly lowering it to his chest, he paced his breathing. Years of practice took over and he let his mind relax, not bothering to count his sets. In prison he’d had to wait for rec time, then wait for his turn at the bench. Every aspect of his life had been structured.

  His muscles started to burn. When he’d been released, keeping to a schedule had kept him sane. He built a life that mirrored his time in prison. Classes and writing turned into his day at the archives. Mealtimes were eaten at the same time. He lifted in the mornings and ran in the evenings. Talks with Tom happened a few times a week, just like phone calls in prison.

  Gideon rested the bar on the pegs and lay there, staring at the garage ceiling. Now that everything was stripped away, he could see that his life in Natchitoches was simply another version of Angola. In a way, he had never left prison. He was still living out a life sentence.

  ***

  Henry locked the front door of Oakland Plantation and hurried down the front porch. The traveling motorcycle group had
been the most entertaining tour she’d given in a long time, but it was hours past when she’d expected to be finished. Two of the members of the group had turned out to be archeologists and so she’d taken extra time to open the outbuildings. They’d all been impressed with the restoration work and the antebellum artifacts. It was thrilling to share Vonda and Joe’s discoveries, but she wished she had eaten dinner before the tour. Lunch seemed ages ago.

  The soft breeze carried the scent of the river and the sun had already set, leaving the plantation in a gentle twilight. As she reached her car, Henry pulled out her phone. Gideon was probably wondering if she’d forgotten her promise to check in. She smiled at the memory of his offer to sit in a corner while she gave the tour. As much as she loved being an independent woman, knowing that someone would know if she came home late― or not at all― filled her with the sweetest sort of anticipation. This is what it felt like to be wanted, to be loved.

  She thought of their conversation in the bookstore and had to smile. Even though she still didn’t feel she could simply walk up to Gideon and give him a kiss, she was absolutely sure he loved her. She’d always wondered what it would be like to belong to someone, to be the one person treasured above all others. Now she knew, and it was miraculous.

  Her phone rang in her hand and the moment after she accepted the call, she later realized the screen hadn’t shown Gideon’s name, but Kimberly’s.

  “Hi,” she said, already turning toward her car.

  “How’s my girl?” Her mother sounded like she always did when she called from California: louder, brighter, more confident.

  “Good. Everything is good.” Henry had no idea where to start with the last week.