These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance

by Hathaway, Mary Jane

“Not really.” She smiled. “I’m still planning on taking part in the jambalaya feed. Gideon knows I can’t cook and he offered… or I asked... I’m not sure how it happened, now that I think about it. But anyway, I can’t really cook but I will try and participate.”

  “Eating is participation, too.”

  “I can definitely eat. I can shuck corn, too,” she said, setting her glass on the table. They worked in silence for a few moments. “And I can make a mean waffle. Just so you don’t think I’m entirely without culinary skills.”

  “I’ve never been convinced that cooking is a skill. Sure, you can learn to follow a recipe, but there has to be something more. You have to enjoy the process.” He picked up another ear of corn and started stripping away the husk with quick, sure movements.

  “Have you always loved cooking?”

  He nodded. “Mamas around the country make sure their kids learn their reading and arithmetic. Mine, good Creole mama that she is, made sure I learned a few dishes, like gumbo and red rice. I took to the lessons so she taught me everything she knew. Blackened catfish, spoon bread, grillades, crawfish boulettes, sweet potato pone, chess pie, swamp chili, la reine cake.” He smiled. “When they come visit every now and then, we like to get busy in the kitchen. It gives us a chance to talk. Same as when I was a teenager. I loved the concentration that comes with the chopping, the way a person couldn’t walk away from a roux, the whole day process of simmering and tasting and adding spices. That sort of time and attention can’t be faked.” He dropped the corn in the bucket and reached for another. “Gideon, on the other hand, has always been preferential to the eating part.”

  Henry smiled but said nothing. She wanted to know about Gideon as a teenager and hear about the parents that Father Tom was still close to, but it seemed like such a private topic for two people shucking corn for a country boil.

  “Do you know what happened?” Father Tom asked.

  She froze, her hand hovering over the bucket.

  “The whole story. Not just what Gideon tells people,” he said.

  She held the ear in her hand, feeling the rough leaves under her fingers. “He told me his name the other day and I―”

  “His name? You mean, his birth name?” Father Tom’s brows had shot up.

  “I didn’t ask him,” she said. “Or, maybe I did. I can’t remember how it happened.” He must think she was purposefully forgetful.

  “This morning I did an internet search on him.” It was embarrassing to admit that she’d poked into the personal history of someone she knew. It wasn’t the type of person she was.

  “Good. I’m glad. Gideon doesn’t think what happened to his family can possibly be any kind of excuse for what he did.” He held up a hand. “I’m not saying murder isn’t wrong. It is and he knows it. But it’s not the whole story. I think it’s impossible to understand him without knowing it all.”

  She wanted to understand Gideon, more than she’d wanted to understand anyone before. “Would he mind us talking about him? I feel like I’m trespassing in some way.” Her voice sounded shy and uncertain in her ears.

  “I see why he likes you.” Tom said. “And if it makes you feel better, we can talk about me. And in talking about me, we can talk about him.”

  Laughing, she nodded. “When they get here, we’ll just be two people working on supper.”

  Father Tom reached for the last ear of corn. “So, I came to live with Sally and Vince because my step daddy was perpetually underemployed and somehow he thought that was my fault. You’ve heard the saying ‘knock you into the middle of next week’. Well, he never succeeded but he sure liked to try.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Henry said. Lisette had never been very affectionate, but she’d never hurt her, not like that.

  “I was eleven when I met Gideon. He was thirteen and he’d been through a lot of foster homes by then. We were both tough, angry kids who thought the world was out to get us, and figured we’d be better off if we got a few kicks in first,” he said. “People see us together and think that he’s been my personal mission. They think he’s the sinner and I’m the saint, that I somehow saved him from a life of crime.”

  He paused, looking her straight in the eyes. “I knew what Gideon was going to do. I gave him money I’d saved, talked over which buses to take and how to find the guy. He never told anyone, so I didn’t pay for my part in the murder. But it’s as much my past, as it is his.”

  Truth.

  “Our foster parents were devastated. Crushed. The sons they’d accepted and loved betrayed them, saving up money and planning this crime for months, lying in the worst way.” He stared at his shoes. “They had a son that followed Gideon around. Gideon loved him, was real kind to him. Anyway, Austin was only five and couldn’t understand why his big brother, his buddy, was gone. Watching what happened to them after Gideon was arrested, it changed my life. I saw what sin does, how it rips apart a family and breaks hearts. It took Gideon’s crime to show me what I had.”

  He said, “People look at us and think I saved him. But it’s really the other way around. Gideon saved me.”

  She looked down at her hands and realized she hadn’t been working at all, the corn rested there, half-shucked.

  “Of course, he can’t see it that way,” Tom went on. “He’s convinced that nothing good can ever come from what he did and that he’s doomed to wander through the world, paying for his crime.” He sighed. “He’s come a long way, but he’s still never accepted that he’s forgiven.”

  “The night of the Zydeco Festival, he told me something. He said he could never date Alanna because she wanted to save him.”

  “True, we all see what we want to see, and maybe Alanna only sees a man she can change.”

  “But maybe he does need someone like her so he can move on and be happy.” She hated saying the words. “If he won’t listen to you, maybe he’d listen to her.”

  He stood up and carried the corn to the pot of boiling water. He snapped the corn in pieces, tipped it into the water and reached for a large bowl of small red potatoes. “Or maybe Alanna doesn’t see that he’s unhappy. Maybe she just sees him as a brooding, dangerous killer who’ll only tamed by her gentle, womanly touch.”

  She let out a guffaw. “Dangerous?”

  “So, you’re not afraid of him? Not even a little?”

  “Not even a little,” she said.

  He seemed to find that amusing.

  “At least, I’m not afraid of him that way.” She watched him add a plate of cut sausages to the water. The seasoning filled the air with a familiar spice. She hadn’t realized how much she missed the low country boil suppers, cooked outside on a warm summer evening.

  He turned from where he was spreading newspaper on the table. “So, you are afraid of him.”

  “Of course not. Not that way.”

  “In some other way?”

  She didn’t know how to answer. “I barely know him.”

  “You know him better than almost everybody.” He stirred the boiling water and poked at a potato. “But you don’t trust him.”

  Henry was aware of the bright sunlight and the fact she was wearing a pretty sundress, standing in the middle of summer supper party, and yet was somehow entangled in a very honest conversation. You deserve to be able to tell the truth.

  “I don’t think you should trust anyone who has nothing to lose.”

  He unfolded another sheet of newspaper and reset the plates. His eyes were sad. “That’s very wise,” he said.

  The sound of a car in the driveway made them both turn, and Henry ran a hand over her hair. She’d only met Bix and Ruby a few times, but if they were like Tom and Gideon, she didn’t know how she was going to get through this meal. It seemed as if none of them were capable of a simple conversation.

  She’d thought that her life would be better with a little honesty, but now she felt as if she’d made a mistake. What she wouldn’t give for a few hours of mindless chatter. The alternative, sitting across fro
m Gideon and letting go of all her pretty white lies, was asking for trouble.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “The reason you will not say it is, when you say it, even to yourself,

  you will know it is true.”

  ― William Faulkner

  “I suppose your car is nice enough but nothing rides like a Caddy,” Bix said as they walked toward St. Augustine’s back yard. “Makes all those potholes just even out. Smooth as a new highway. Too bad I didn’t know you, then. I could have given it to you.”

  Gideon smiled, imagining himself driving Bix’s enormous green Cadillac. That would have made keeping a low profile very difficult indeed.

  “It’s hard to attract a nice lady with a little foreign car like that. You wouldn’t be havin’ any trouble gettin’ a wife if you had the Caddy,” Bix said.

  He didn’t know what to say. Somehow he’d given the impression he was on the hunt for a wife.

  Henry’s car was parked in the driveway and he wondered if Tom was peppering her with questions. He hadn’t told Tom that Henry liked her privacy. Now that they were feet away, he realized he hadn’t really told Tom anything at all. He ran a hand over his face and wished he could stop at the gate, sending Bix and Ruby on by themselves.

  “Now, you just relax and let us handle everything, sha.” Ruby reached over and patted Gideon’s arm.

  That’s what he was afraid of, but he didn’t say so. “I’m just not much of a talker, Miss Ruby,” he said. He could see a thin plume of steam and smelled spices in the air. Smoothing down the front of his shirt, Gideon rethought his plan to slip away. Maybe he’d stay for just a little while.

  “Who needs talking when you’ve got that handsome face? You simply look over at her every so often and smile real big with those dimples you got. Don’t say a thing. She’ll be done for in no time,” Ruby said.

  Gideon reached to open the little gate to the backyard. He could imagine Henry’s reaction if he grinned maniacally across the table without speaking a word.

  “Girls don’t need smiles,” Bix said. “They like gifts. You can smile all ya like but if you don’t offer a little token now and then, you’re just a friend. I brought Ruby a rose every day for a week before she let me give her a kiss and it was two months before I even got to―”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll keep that in mind,” Gideon interrupted. He could be wrong and maybe Bix had a perfectly normal ending to that sentence but he didn’t want to find out.

  “I remember those roses,” Ruby said, linking her arm with Bix’s and giving him a kiss. “It was the sweetest thing anybody had ever done for me. My first husband wasn’t real romantic that way, bless his soul and may he rest in peace.”

  They turned the corner and saw Henry and Tom by the pot. Tom was peering into a sack that probably held the crawfish and Henry was standing a little to the side, as if unsure whether to come toward them or stay put. She lifted a hand and gave a little wave. She was so beautiful, smiling shyly at them all, it took a moment before he was aware of his feet.

  “Give me a job,” Ruby demanded, giving Tom a kiss and Henry a hug. She held up a glass jar. “I brought watermelon rind pickles but you wouldn’t let me bring a real dish so I gotta earn my supper somehow.”

  “My favorite. And Henry was my sous chef. We’re all done.” Tom pointed to the sack. “Last step, right here. I rinsed them real good in the cooler before I started so after I dump the shrimp and these babies in, we’ve got about fifteen minutes before we eat.”

  “Would you like some sweet tea, Ruby?” Henry moved toward the pitcher.

  “I think I’ll get myself a beer from the fridge,” Ruby said with a wink.

  “Oh. Bix, then?” She held up a glass full of ice. “Tea?”

  “I’ll get me a Coke over here, sha.” He turned to Gideon. “But Gideon likes sweet tea.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I do,” he said. Henry poured him a glass. For a moment, she hesitated, as if unsure whether to deliver it or wait for him to come to her. Just when he started forward, she seemed to make up her mind and they met in the middle.

  He took the glass from her and tried to think of a safe topic. It was the first time he’d seen her without the ponytail and he couldn’t stop staring. The dark waves softly framed her face, her eyes were almost luminous in that late afternoon light.

  “You look beautiful,” he said. A second later he closed his eyes and sighed. Other than actually mentioning Kimberly, that was probably the worst comment he could have made. “Sorry.”

  “For what?” Ruby asked, coming out of the back door.

  “I dunno,” Bix said, frowning. “He said she was beautiful and then apologized. You becomin’ one of those feminists, Gideon? The kind who say you can’t a hold a door for a lady?”

  “No, it’s fine. I’m not―” Henry started to say.

  “Because if you can’t tell a girl you like that she’s pretty, then I don’t know what there is left.” Bix shook his head.

  Gideon looked at Tom, hoping that he would intervene but Tom just stirred the pot, a smile on his face.

  “Well, there’s always roses, right?” Ruby slipped her arm around Bix’s waist. “Pretty girls can get tired of hearin’ that, I suppose.”

  “Actually, it was nice of―” Henry said.

  “I think a movie is a real good way to spend some time with a gal. Some of those theaters are empty during the matinees and it’s so dark and cozy in there, if you know what I mean,” Bix said.

  “You like movies, Henry? Bein’ from a theater family, you’ve probably seen them all.” Ruby sighed. “I’ve seen Casablanca near fifty times. Those love scenes are so romantic.”

  Gideon glanced at Henry and started to smile. There wasn’t anything to be done but endure all the bad advice coming their way.

  “You’re right, now that I think on it. Telling her she’s pretty won’t win her over. I bet Henry hears it all the time. And she’s a thinker, just like Alice. Throwing compliments at her is probably as useful as a steering wheel on a mule,” Bix said.

  “True. I remember when Paul was wooin’ Alice. Poor man couldn’t do anything right until he wired up her apartment for the internet. I think she sure appreciated that.”

  “Is that the apartment I have now?” Henry asked. She looked more than ready to get off the topic of romance. “It’s beautifully preserved.”

  “Yes, ma’am. They were at each others’ throats. Like cats and dogs. But we could tell they were in love from the very first moment. It was real clear.” Ruby tugged Bix toward a chair. “Sit down, hon. You make me feel lazy when I’m sittin’ by myself.”

  “They seem to get along so well now.” Henry perched on a stool next to the table and held her iced tea in both hands.

  “Funny thing,” Bix said, taking a long drink of his Coke. “Those two didn’t seem to have anything in common, but deep down, they were just alike. You never know what’s under the surface.”

  Gideon wandered over to Tom, relieved that the topic had turned. Henry was listening to Ruby tell the story of how Paul and Alice fell in love, and Bix was interjecting now and then to correct her.

  “So, you staying?” Tom said, his voice barely above a whisper.

  “I lost my nerve for a minute. This really isn’t so bad.”

  “Let’s hope the worst is past. They could always start asking about her old boyfriends. Or current boyfriends.”

  He could handle the relationship advice, but having it connected to Blue was a certain kind of painful. “Sorry we’re late. Bix had to show me his African violet collection and then Ruby asked me to figure out why they couldn’t get into their e-mail.”

  “Just like a good son.” Tom speared a potato with a long fork and held it up. The steam curled off in wisps. “Speaking of which, Vince and Sally are coming in a few weeks.”

  Gideon peered into the boiling water, the bright red tails and claws of the crawfish waltzing with the vegetables.

  “Austin’s got a few days off after mid-t
erms and I thought since it was close to your birthday, we could all get together,” Tom continued, as if that was a perfectly normal idea, as if Gideon hadn’t been estranged from his family for the past seventeen birthdays.

  Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Gideon said nothing.

  “Vince says he wants to see that bluegill spot we found so we might take a few hours on the river while Sally meets up with friends,” Tom said.

  “Austin’s got a new girlfriend. She seems real nice.” Tom sliced the potato and checked the inside. “Here’s hoping he finds the one and gets married and has some kids soon. Sally says out of three sons, she deserves some grandbabies.”

  Three sons. They called him their son even after all he’d done and he wasn’t even their natural child. He looked across the little yard to where Henry was listening to Bix as he told some story that involved a lot of hand motions. Gideon had what Henry could only dream of, a family waiting to accept him just as he was.

  Henry leaned forward, attention focused on the man in front of her. Gideon understood what Bix was feeling right then as he talked and talked. When Henry looked you, it was like you were the most interesting person on the planet.

  Tom nibbled an edge of the potato. “So, I was thinking we could all meet for lunch and then go out fishing for a bit.”

  “Maybe so,” Gideon said.

  Tom paused, the rest of the potato balanced on the fork halfway back to the pot. “Yeah?” His voice was cautious, as if he expected Gideon to burst into laughter and tell him he’d been joking.

  “I’ve been thinking about them lately,” Gideon said. He didn’t know quite how to explain. He’d been thinking of this family he refused, over and over and over, when Henry would give so much for a chance at what he had.

  As if following his train of thought, Tom glanced back toward Henry. He watched her for a moment and then said, “They miss you.”

  “They miss the kid I used to be,” Gideon corrected him.

  “Is it about ready?” Ruby called over. “I could eat the tablecloth.”

  “Almost,” Tom called back. “I’m gonna have Gideon bring it over while I get the napkins. I always forget the napkins.” He put his hand on his shoulder and said, “I know you think I’m always pushing you to see them, but they’re getting older. Someday it might be too late.” And then he was off toward the house.