“Well, I think that’s shallow.” To her horror, there was a wobble at the end of the last word.
“I guess I don’t care if it is. There are worse things in the world than being shallow. Frankly, I’d love to be shallow,” he said, practically spitting the words.
The moment stretched between them and he leaned back, as if realizing he’d said too much.
Rose knew what he meant. If only she could make herself care less about what might have been. She’d love to be as shallow as a puddle.
Blue dropped his gaze to the floor. “I’m sorry. I― I wasn’t really angry at you.”
She looked toward the rows of books. “I used to love that poem. A long time ago. It was so romantic. I knew I was the kind of person who would see my beloved in star rise and moonbeams until the day I died.”
“And now?” The sunlight filtered through the shelf, casting his eyes into shadow.
Rose knew she should toss off a laugh. There was no point in discussing the past. Talking about it wouldn’t help. Talking about it with a stranger, even less. Instead she said, “I still am that person, but it’s not romantic anymore.”
“You know, now that I think about it, Annabel Lee is a pretty stupid poem.”
Rose snorted. “Stupid poem about a stupid couple.”
“Written by a stupid man,” Blue said.
“Hey, now,” she said.
He held up both hands. “No, you’re right. As a Poe fan, that was too far, I admit.”
She stood there smiling at him for a few seconds too long. Clearing her throat, she turned back to the shelf. “I should really―”
“Right. Me, too,” he said. “I was just walking by and―”
“Well, lookey here,” a voice said.
They both turned to see Bix at the other end of the range. Patty’s tail wagged in greeting, but she didn’t make a move toward them.
“I heard voices and knew it was you, Blue. And you, Rose. Imagine my surprise, finding you here in the poetry section.” He cocked his gray head, a smile spreading over his face. “Blue and Rose. Has a nice ring to it.”
Rose almost rolled her eyes. She’d forgotten Alice’s story about the poetry section. The people in this town sure loved their matchmaking.
“Hi, Bix. Let me help you shelve the book you got there,” Blue said.
Rose backed against the shelves so Blue could pass by and looked up at just the wrong moment, meeting his eyes. He was a few inches taller than she’d thought, which must be close to six feet since she was no sprite. Maybe it was the way he smelled familiar in that way that all men did, or the fact that it had been so very long since she’d been that close to one, but he hesitated for the barest moment, and Rose felt her heart flutter in her chest.
The next second he was walking toward Bix and Rose was alone, anger rising at her own ridiculous nature. She’d just been saying how she was the loyal one, the romantic who believed in love long past the time it was gone. But then in the next moment she was making eyes at the handsome neighbor. She shook her head in disgust. She lied even to herself.
Despite Richard’s distance and his silence, he’d never left her heart. She loved him still. But not enough to be truly loyal. She was a hypocritical mess.
Chapter Eight
“The past beats inside me like a second heart.”
― John Banville
“You have more books? Let me help,” Blue said, taking two other books from Bix’s hands. He started out of the section, not caring if he went in the right direction. He neded to get Bix away from Rose. The longer they all stayed in the same spot, the more hints Bix would drop about the two of them. Blue had seen Rose’s face and it wasn’t the face of a woman who was enjoying the teasing.
Bix followed along behind him, Patty’s claws making light sounds against the floor. “You don’t have to do that, son. You’ve got more than enough on your plate.”
Don’t sign up for that Constitutional Law series. Take the one class you have to and move on.
But I think it’s important if I want to―
Boy, let me tell you something straight. You don’t have the brains for that kind of work. Just do as I say and you won’t flunk out.
He turned, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“You’re working hard, is all.” Bix’s gaze searched the area where he guessed Blue was standing. “I don’t mean anything more’n that.”
“Oh.” Blue read the titles and the slips inside the book, shelved them as quickly as possible and paused at the end of the range. It was true, he’d been spending so much time working on cases this week that he hadn’t had a chance for much else. He’d eat, read a little and fall into bed. After the ink spill on his project last week, he hadn’t had the energy to start over on the intricate piece. “I better get back to the office.”
“Sure, sure. Mais, Alice has something at the desk for you. Some big book, weighed about ten pounds.”
Blue grinned. He doubted the book weighed ten pounds but he liked the sound of it, whatever it was. Alice knew his tastes and was always on the look-out for something he hadn’t read, but might like.
He headed back to the desk, conscious of his footsteps as they echoed through the foyer. Rose was still in the poetry section and she kept her back turned as he passed. Alice was tucking a blanket under her chin as she nursed one of the babies and Aurora ran by, singing something about frogs in her tiny, high voice. Just till theas he reached the desk, the bell sounded on the door but he didn’t look back. He hoped it was Rose, heading out for a few minutes.
“I’m sure glad to see y’all getting’ to know each other better,” Bix said. “In the poetry section.”
Alice’s head snapped up. “Oh? You and Rose were in the poetry section?”
Emily Jane stretched and grimaced from her little bassinet by the desk. Blue walked around and reached down to pick her up. He said, his voice low, “I stopped to say ‘hi’. It wasn’t by accident. The planets didn’t align in such a way that we were thrown together in that space. There was no divine conspiracy, no supernatural collusion. We simply exchanged a few words.”
Alice wasn’t deterred in the slightest. “But it was in the poetry section,” she said, grinning. “And did you discuss poetry? Maybe read a few poems?”
He patted Emily Jane on the back and considered not answering. “Yes, actually. We talked about how much we hated a certain romantic ballad,” he said, giving the words a little extra emphasis.
“Someone hates a poem? They’re not friends of ours, right?” A voice said behind him, laughter in every word.
Blue froze. As it was happening, he was already telling himself to move, to turn, to smile. But he was motionless, as if his body had forgotten how to interpret messages from his brain to his nerves and muscles.
“Henry, I’ve missed ya,” Bix said. Blue could hear the rustle of clothing as they hugged, then the sound of a kiss on the cheek.
“It’s only been a week,” she said. “Okay, maybe ten days. Gideon missed fishing with you last weekend.”
“How was the conference?” Alice asked. Her gaze had flicked to Blue and back to Henry, and he realized he hadn’t yet turned to meet her. His body finally responded to commands and he shifted awkwardly, the baby still against his shoulder, the edge of the bassinet against the small of his back.
“Crowded. Busy. Southern history is hot right now and the database was a big hit. It was sort of exhausting, but we were there together so it was a lot more fun than any conferences I’ve been to alone.”
Henry was just as he remembered. Luminous green eyes set over high cheekbones, full lips always slightly turned up at the corners. Her hair was loose around her shoulders and darker than when they had dated. He couldn’t place what was missing for a few moments, then realized her glasses were gone.
“So good to see you, Henry,” he managed.
She frowned slightly, as if he had said just the opposite. “I’m sorry I didn’t come see you as soon as I
heard you were back in town. I knew you’d be busy getting your practice in order. We should have invited you over right away.”
His practice was the opposite of ‘in order’. Blue searched for something else to say. He’d thought that having more time to prepare to face her was better, but now he wasn’t so sure. Maybe it was like a band aid, and better to rip it off as quickly as possible. “How’s Gideon?”
A softness touched her features at her husband’s name, and Blue’s stomach went sour in response. Was there anything worse than seeing the woman you once loved, in love with someone else?
“Wonderful. He was just paired with a service dog, a beautiful Irish red setter. We’re all adjusting a little to the new routine,” Henry said.
“Patty and Bilbo get along great. You should see ‘em run at the river,” Bix said.
Blue looked from Bix to Henry to Alice. He felt like he’d missed an important fact somewhere along the way, but wasn’t sure how to ask for details.
“The dog is for his PTSD,” Henry said.
“He doesn’t talk about it much, although that’s changing,” Alice said, as if to make Blue feel better about being out of the loop. “He’s more open about it now.”
Blue should have known. Before, when Blue and Henry were dating, and then not dating, Gideon had been accused of a murder. Henry had come to him for help, told him all of Gideon’s childhood traumas, how it related to the crime that put him in prison, and Blue had helped clear him of the new charges. To Blue, Gideon had always seemed absolutely in control, but the day that Blue had come to offer his services, he’d seen a man cracking under intense pressure, a man at the end of his rope. If it hadn’t been for Henry, and Gideon’s brother Tom, Blue was sure that Gideon would have made the situation much worse. He nodded, finally putting it all together.
“I didn’t realize he was struggling,” he said. “Not that much, I mean.”
“He’ll struggle with it forever, but he’s working hard to be as healthy as he can be,” Henry said. “We’re having a baby in December.”
A baby. Of course. That was the way it happened. Two people fell in love, got married, had kids. Blue didn’t know why he was surprised. But he was, and he searched for the appropriate response. “Congratulations. On both of your new family members,” he said, laughing a little, trying to make light of his delayed response.
“Thank you.” There was a moment where he thought he caught a flash of sympathy in her eyes, but then it was gone. “You have the right idea,” she said, glancing down at Emily Jane in his arms. “I need to practice.”
Alice adjusted her shirt and lowered the blanket. “Here, I’ll share. You hang out with us enough, you’ll be over prepared when you have your own.” She passed the sated baby over the desk and Henry reached out eagerly to receive her.
“Sweet, sweet girl,” she whispered, tucking the sleeping baby into the crook of her arm, her gaze drinking in the tiny features. She tenderly stroked the little hand, swaying gently.
“Aannnnnd she’s gone,” Alice said, laughing.
“It’s the craziest thing,” Henry said, not raising her eyes. “I never really thought about babies until I met Gideon. I changed. Everything changed.”
Blue glanced at Bix, noting the wide smile on his face. Alice was sighing with happiness. Blue was the only one who felt awkward, like a person invited to a party filled with lottery winners.
“That’s the way it happens, I do believe,” Bix said. He rubbed his chin. “Speaking of changes, sha, you’ve met the new girl? Hey, Blue, where is she? Bring her over here.”
Henry finally looked up from the baby. “New girl?”
“No, not that. Not what you’re thinking,” he said. “Not my girl. Not at all.”
“I think she got the message,” Rose said, walking toward them. She sounded half-amused, half-irritated. She held out a hand to Henry. “Hi, I’m the new girl who’s definitely not Blue’s new girl. And I wasn’t eavesdropping, I promise.”
Blue felt his face go hot. His mama had raised him better. If his life weren’t such a mess, Rose would be just the kind of girl he’d be interested in― smart, witty, kind. He opened his mouth to apologize. “Rose, I didn’t―” but his sentence cut off as Aurora appeared, crawling from under the bassinet and between his legs on her way to Alice.
“WinkleCat,” she said, climbing into Alice’s lap and reaching for the sleeping cat on the desk.
“Gently, sha” Alice reminded her. “Rose, this is Henry Becket, director of The Cane River Creole National Historical Park. Henry, this is Rose Black, our new nanny. And friend.”
“The director? You must know the name of that little white church, then. The one that was built by les gens de couleur libre,” Rose said. “I keep forgetting to look it up, and here you are, the director of the state park.” She sounded very impressed.
Blue wondered for the first time what kind of background Rose had. She was Creole, but it was more than that. She sounded as if she’d studied the history at some point. He’d never thought to ask her if she had any degrees. Of course, she would have mentioned it, at some point, if she had any.
“You mean St. Augustine. My husband’s brother is the priest there.”
“Augustine?” Rose frowned. “I remembered it being something in French.”
“Isle Brevelle,” Henry said. “Right, sometimes people call it that since it’s the name of the original settlement. The church was built almost two hundred years ago by the free people of color, for their use and open to all, but the land was dedicated for a church more than two hundred and fifty years ago. It’s still the center of the Cane River community. Are you interested in Cane River history? You’re welcome to come over to the park and I can show you around. Or if you just want to know about the church, Tom can give you a tour. We go there for Mass on Sunday. You’re welcome to come with us.”
Blue saw an expression flicker over Rose’s face. “Oh, I’d hate to bother him.”
“It’s no bother. He loves to tell people about the history of the place. It’s on the National Registry now so it’s great to see it recognized for how important it’s been to our people. My husband and I were married there two years ago. Bix and Ruby go there. Alice and Paul, too. Blue…”
Henry paused and Blue dropped his gaze to Emily Jane. He’d grown up attending services at St. Augustine’s. It was the heart of his Creole family, his history. Twelve generations of his family had lived in Isle Brevelle. His faith had been planted as a child and nurtured as a teen. But now he went to the large cathedral in town. He knew it was immature, even weak, but he couldn’t face the idea of sitting behind a blissfully happy Gideon and Henry.
Henry went on. “And you can ask for a tour anytime. Not just after church.”
“Thank you. I’ll be sure to do that when I have some extra time.” Rose said this more to Aurora as she patted an unmoving Van Winkle on the head, than to Henry, and Blue wondered if she was uncomfortable with the idea of the tour, or Henry. He could understand how intimidating Henry could be, especially to other women.
“Anytime. The offer is always open. And I’m so glad you’re here to help out with the girls.” She stepped toward Rose, holding out the baby. “I’d better give you this little person. I need to find a birthday present for my husband.”
Elizabeth didn’t make a peep during the transfer and everyone seemed to let out a breath of relief.
“Gideon likes Edna St. Vincent Millay, right?” Alice asked.
“He does,” Henry said, smiling softly. “Our first real conversation was about the poem ‘Bluebeard’. But his tastes have changed over the last couple of years.”
“Of course they have. He’s happy now,” Bix said. “Edna is a bitter ol’ thing. Figs and Thistles, and all of that.”
“You got him a book of Sara Teasdale poetry that year. Perhaps she changed his perspective,” Alice said. “Among other things.”
“Miss Sara Teasdale definitely had a hand in our finally being h
onest about our feelings,” Henry said.
Blue frowned, trying to place the poet, then feeling irritated at his own curiosity.
“Hey, everybody,” Paul said, coming through the back door and setting a bag of delicious smelling lunch on the desk. Van Winkle didn’t twitch a muscle.
Aurora asked, “Popcorn, Papa?”
Paul answered her in Creole, “No, sha. Mais il y a frites.” At the mention of French fries, Aurora hopped off Alice’s lap and went for the bag.
“Having a party without me?” Paul asked, as he shook some out on a napkin for Aurora.
“Just the usual,” Alice said, lifting her face for a kiss. Paul gave her one, then Aurora who was too busy eating to care, then Emily Jane. Rose smiled and turned Elizabeth so she could get a whisper soft kiss on the forehead.
“We were just discussin’ poetry and how it brings lovers together,” Bix said. “Well, poetry and those upstairs apartments. Every couple we’ve had up there has ended up married.”
There it was. The double whammy of By the Book matchmaking. Blue sighed. Now he and Rose would have to suffer through a whole new round of sly comments. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Henry.
“Oh!” Rose exclaimed, then glanced down at baby Elizabeth, who had jumped at the sound of her voice. Rose shushed her softly and the little girl slipped back into a light sleep. Rose looked at Blue, speaking in a half-whisper. “So that’s the big problem with my living upstairs? That’s why you were so grumpy when I moved in?”
Grumpy? “No, it’s really just―”
“Oh, Blue.” She looked at them all, a smile spreading over her face. “That’s all it is? Some myth about people getting hitched? I thought it was personal.”
Blue started to say that getting married to your next door neighbor was the very definition of personal but she went on.
“I thought it was me,” she said, letting out a breath. “Because I’m not a bad neighbor, really. I’ve tried to be very quiet.”
“No, you’re a great neighbor,” he said. “I never hear you when the girls are gone. And I never see you.” Blue grimaced, realizing he was giving a really good impression of a grumpy neighbor. His grandpa said unsociable people needed to just move out to the marsh tacky and live alone. Maybe that would be Blue’s next address.
Along the Cane River: Books 1-5 in the Inspirational Cane River Romance Series Page 105
