These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance

by Hathaway, Mary Jane

  Henry sipped the scalding liquid. As much as she tried to convince herself that Gideon’s sudden change didn’t affect her life, her heart was full of the most wonderful anticipation. She’d told Father Tom she couldn’t really trust someone who had nothing to lose. For her, it had been the only thing standing between them.

  The toast popped up behind her and she jumped, sloshing hot coffee on her hand. Hissing with pain, she set down the mug and ran her hand under cold water. After a few minutes, she pulled it out, wincing at how her skin was red and painful to the touch. She didn’t believe in seeing signs everywhere, but maybe she’d better put the brakes on all this optimism. She should take it one day at a time, and today was full of Kimberly.

  ***

  Gideon made his way down the river walk, intensely aware of the beautiful morning. Memories of last night’s supper ran on a loop through his mind. He looked up at the sky, wondering if it was so blue and clear yesterday, or if it came from that subtle change in the weather that September brought. Or maybe he was simply seeing the world differently.

  As he turned the corner to the Finnemore house, Gideon saw several utility trucks parked at the curb. The front door was standing open. A man in coveralls emerged, carrying a spool of wire over one shoulder.

  “Hey, there,” Gideon called out.

  The man paused, shading his eyes with one hand. “Are you the realtor?”

  “No,” Gideon said. He introduced himself. “I’ve been working in the basement on some papers Arthur Finnemore left. What kind of work are y’all doing on the house?”

  “Everything,” he said. “Looks like the rats done chewed through the wiring upstairs. Got raccoons living in the attic space. Water damage in the bathroom, went all the way through the floor.”

  “So, the estate is serious about selling?” Gideon gazed up at the house. It was beautiful, in its own way. “That’s a lot of work for no guarantee.”

  “I dunno. It seemed like the realtor man was sure of sellin’ it.” He turned around and gazed up at the structure, crossing his arms over his chest. “But if ya ask me, I’d burn it down and start over. Some of those premade homes are real nice, even if they bring ‘em in on a truck and stick ‘em together.”

  “I suppose,” Gideon said. He suspected that the builder wasn’t keen on local history. If he were, any amount of renovation would be worth preserving the place. “Well, I’m headed downstairs.”

  The man nodded, already turning back toward his truck.

  Gideon walked around the side of the house and started down the basement steps. The keys were in his hand and he was just a few feet from the door when he saw the splintered frame, the dents in the heavy oak panels and one long crack that stretched from top to bottom. He froze, reaching out a finger to trace the marks. He pushed against the door and it held. Turning the key in the lock, it resisted for a moment then swung inward. Gideon walked inside, his heart pounding in his chest. But instead of seeing an empty basement with only a few scattered papers, he saw the boxes stacked in orderly rows, everything just as he’d left it.

  The scanner was there, clean towel draped over the top to keep out the dust. He always backed up his files and kept the current work on a flash drive, but he’d left his tablet on the table the night before, right next to the master list that contained the description and the number assigned to the letter or picture. Maybe the work on the house had made thieves suspect there was something of value in the basement. Maybe it was a random act of vandalism.

  He wiped a hand over his face and was surprised to feel cold sweat. He’d come close to losing all his work. Putting everything in one place could be a disaster. All the time and effort he and Henry had spent would be for nothing. And more than that, his dream of a Cane River Creole history database would be gone.

  Slumping onto a chair, he took a shaky breath. He had to figure out a way to store everything off site as soon as he could organize it. The entire operation had to be moved. This was a warning he was going to heed.

  ***

  A soft knock at the door startled Henry into pausing mid-step from the bathroom to the bedroom. She looked down at the towel she had wrapped around herself and debated whether she had time to get clothes on before her visitor left. Since the back door was usually locked, it was probably Alice. Or maybe Charlie.

  Henry tip-toed across the living room and listened for any sounds outside. There was only silence. “Hello?” she called out.

  “Open the door, sweetie,” Kimberly called back. “I’m here to help you get ready.”

  Henry leaned her forehead against the door and closed her eyes. She could just imagine all the help Kimberly was going to give her. “You’re five hours early.”

  “Are you going to open the door?”

  She turned the bolt and opened the door, revealing Kimberly in all her glory. Her bright red dress was paired with several long gold necklaces and she carried garment bags over one arm. She raised one hand and touched her hair, as if to make sure it wasn’t catching whatever had happened to Henry’s head.

  “I just got out of the shower,” Henry explained.

  Kimberly bustled in. “Lorelei, get that product in and your hair dried or I won’t be able to do a thing with it. What are you wearing? I brought a few things for you to try on.”

  She nodded, heading for the bedroom. A memory of her high school prom flashed through her mind. She hadn’t wanted to go, hadn’t even been asked, but Kimberly somehow arranged for the school quarterback to take Henry. He sent her a note saying he’d pick her up at six. He’d never even spoken to her before that night. Kimberly arrived at noon that day and spent the next five hours making sure Henry was perfect for her big night. The quarterback showed up, stood still for pictures, and ditched her as soon as they got to the dance so he could spend the evening with the girl he’d really wanted to bring.

  “Let me just get some clothes on,” she said and tried to close the bedroom door behind her but Kimberly was already half-way inside, looking for a place to hang the garment bags.

  “I also stopped by Lana’s Lingerie shop because the right underthings are so important.” She unzipped one bag and exposed a bright pink strapless dress. “I was thinking this one, with a little push up corset I brought. It’s real fitted, but I think if you don’t eat anything at the reception, it should be fine.”

  Did she really believe Henry would get in a corset? There was no way she was going to sit through a whole wedding ceremony trying not to breathe. A nice dress from her closet would be fine. It wasn’t as if Henry was wandering around town in her nightie and slippers.

  “Would you like some coffee? Or breakfast?” Henry asked.

  “No, thank you, hon.” Kimberly slid both hands across her stomach. “I had a little cup this morning but I don’t want to look all bloated. Your mamere cooks so much and then she gets upset when I don’t finish a big plate of it. Just last night she made cheese grits and biscuits with sausage gravy. Can you imagine? I can’t eat like that at my age.”

  Henry didn’t remember her eating like that, ever. She grabbed some jeans from the closet and a Tshirt , and slipped them on.

  “Oh, those jeans aren’t really made for your figure.” Kimberly put a finger to her chin and surveyed Henry’s outfit.

  “I’m only wearing them to the bathroom.”

  “Still, you never know who might come by. That waist is way too high. You need to have it set right on your hip bones so it makes your derriere nice and round in the back,” Kimberly said, turning Henry and tugging her jeans down a few inches. She smoothed down Henry’s rear and sighed.

  “You must have got your daddy’s backside. We Pascal girls have a real bootie. You should try these exercises I saw in a magazine that are supposed to do what nature forgot. Men like a bootie, you know. Ask any man and he’ll tell you that even more than―”

  “I’ll try those,” Henry said.

  Kimberly went back to the bags and pulled out a few hangers that held only a
scrap or two of fabric. “Here, these dresses’ll be ruined if you have a panty line so make sure you wear a thong underneath. I got you some in pink, white, and cream. You can choose.” She squinted at Henry. “You’re a four, right? You used to be a size four.”

  Henry sighed. “I’ve never been a size four. Maybe when I was in the sixth grade.”

  “Well, thongs don’t really run true to size, anyway. A few sizes too small won’t hurt you,” Kimberly said.

  Henry thought of all the things to put on her body, thongs seemed like one of those items that should definitely be in the right size.

  “Oh, if you don’t use the corset, I brought these.” Kimberly held up a few more silky hangers. “A balconet bra is perfect for that silk dress, keeps everything nice and high. Or this one,” she held out something that was mostly lace, “but it doubles your cup size and I’m not sure the dress will fit right if you do that, so better to stick with the corset.”

  She brought another dress out of the bag and held it up. It was fairly long, but the front seemed to plunge to the waist. “Auntie, that’s so low cut. I can’t wear that,” Henry said.

  “Sure you can. That’s why I brought this bra,” she held out another hanger. “It’s just for this type of dress. No one will see a thing.”

  Except for everything she wanted to keep covered. Lisette had never wanted her to dress nicely, never made any recommendations on how Henry could be more attractive. She’d grown up figuring she was a lost cause compared to the Pascal women. Kimberly’s ministrations were about twenty years too late.

  “I’m going to go fix my hair,” she said and slipped into the bathroom. The wedding wasn’t until three. Kimberly wasn’t going to leave now that she was in the apartment and Henry didn’t think she could keep her temper for a five hour beauty session that included too-small thongs.

  After she ran some anti-frizz cream into her hair and brushed it back into a ponytail, she swiped on a little mascara and didn’t bother with anything else. Whatever else she did, Kimberly would only undo later for the wedding. Leaning toward the mirror, Henry looked into her own eyes. She imagined a whole world of lies swimming around behind the pale sage green irises. They drifted, some faster and some slower, in an area much smaller than one would think would hold a lifetime of untruths, and Henry had to keep them from ever touching each other. While she talked and laughed and worked, a part of her was always watching the lies, making sure everything was on track. Because if they ever collided, even one or two, it would mean the end of the world as she knew it.

  Her stomach growled and Henry remembered the toast she’d left in the kitchen along with the mug of coffee. She watched herself come to a decision, eyes narrowing and lips going tight, and then she was out of the bathroom, headed for the living room. She slipped on her sneakers and grabbed her purse.

  “I’ll be right back,” she yelled, already halfway out the door. “I’m just running to get some breakfast.”

  She was nearly at the bottom of the stairs and out the back door before she realized that she’d told the truth, for once. Crossing the parking lot, she tried not to imagine Kimberly’s expression. Her phone rang in her purse and she flinched. She didn’t need to check it to know who was calling.

  The river walk seemed empty after the late summer crowds and Henry felt herself start to relax. She would just get some biscuits and hash browns to go, then head back. Once she got some food in her stomach, Kimberly and her ‘add two cup sizes’ lingerie would be a lot easier to take.

  Henry stretched her neck from side to side and felt her muscles slowly relaxing. Her ponytail was slipping and instead of tightening it up, she impulsively took out the hairband and let her hair swing free. It was still damp from her shower and she felt a little hedonistic walking around in public without it being styled. It might have been rude to run out of the apartment like that but she was doing Kimberly a favor, really. Ten minutes, or twenty, and she’d be back. Henry looked toward the river, loving the familiar glint of sun on the water. She needed to get out and walk around more. It was good for her emotional state. So was eating breakfast, now that she thought about it. The promise of a hot breakfast made her walk even faster.

  She turned the corner, still gazing at the river and dreaming of biscuits, and slammed directly into another person. There was an impression of a blue plaid shirt and some buttons, and she let out a grunt as her head connected with something hard. Hands reached out and gripped her arms as she bounced backwards.

  “I’m so sorry―” she started to say, reaching up to feel her aching nose.

  “Are you―” he said.

  “―about that.”

  “―okay?”

  Henry blinked up, still massaging the bridge of her nose. Gideon stared back, looking more than a little worried. She’d seen him not more than twelve hours ago, but she’d missed him. She wanted to reach out and hug him, but they weren’t on hugging terms. Not even handshake terms, actually.

  “I’m fine. I wasn’t paying attention at all,” she said, letting out a breath. “Obviously.”

  His eyes wrinkled at the corners and he let go of her arms. “I was looking at the blue jay in that magnolia tree,” he said, pointing out the bird perched high above them. “Seems like we were both distracted.”

  Henry considered pretending that she’d been in a hurry to do something important, but she glanced down at her faded jeans and couldn’t think of a single story that would fit. “I was on my way to get some biscuits and gravy. Or country ham. I hadn’t decided yet.”

  “Ah,” he said. “I don’t want to make you late.” She saw his gaze roam over her face and she realized she’d forgotten her glasses in the apartment. Along with the wet hair, old clothes and tennis shoes, she wondered what he could be thinking.

  “See, my aunt came over. Early. Too early. We’re going to a wedding and she showed up before breakfast with lots of dresses. And they’re really not dresses I’d want to wear. They’re all too tight or too short or too low cut,” she said. “And she brought lingerie, but it’s not lingerie I would want to put on. Everything is too tiny or too padded or shouldn’t even be considered underwear, it’s really more like―” She held up her hands, trying to convey how everything was lacking in sufficient material in all the important places.

  “Oh,” he said.

  “There was a corset,” she blurted. He could possibly blame her for trying to avoid a corset.

  “Ah.” His face was turning pink.

  Henry sighed. “I know. It’s stupid to run away from my own apartment because of that but I just thought if I got some breakfast, then I would be able to come back and go through with all the dressing and make-up and hair fixing with a much better mood.”

  “You were headed to The Red Hen?”

  “I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. I was trying to put some distance between me and―”

  “― the corset,” he said, his dimples appearing.

  She nodded, wishing that he would invite himself along. She’d never been someone who craved company, but she waited, hoping.

  “I won’t keep you,” he said.

  That was that. Nothing to do but walk away. But Henry still stood there.

  “You should…” She started to say. Come with me. She wished she’d worn something nicer and put on a little make up. Maybe he didn’t want to be seen wandering all over the river walk with her.

  He waited for her to finish.

  “Maybe you’d like to…?” she tried again. Her face was getting warm. “Have you already…?”

  His eyebrows were back up. She was suddenly aware of people passing by and the blue of the sky. Just an hour before she’d told herself to take it slow, to be careful with her heart. She didn’t want to get burned. They were colleagues and she’d waited years to be part of a project like his. She shouldn’t do anything to put it in jeopardy.

  Those were all true statements, but she couldn’t think of a single good reason to follow through on her own
advice now.

  “Would you like to go to breakfast with me?” she asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and smiled for real.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sometimes it takes a good fall to really know where you stand.

  ― Hayley Williams

  Henry paused, a biscuit in one hand. “But they didn’t get in?”

  Gideon shook his head. “I don’t think so. The door is cracked and they took a few good whacks at the frame, but apparently, your fear of being trapped down there had some merit. It looked like whoever tried to get in gave it their best shot, but the door held.”

  He poked at his mushroom eggs benedict for a moment. He shouldn’t say anything unless he was sure. Speculation was how rumors got started. But he felt comfortable with Henry. She knew when to keep a secret. “It’s probably just a coincidence but I wonder if Barney Sandoz had anything to do with it.”

  “I wondered the same thing,” she said quietly. “I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  “I’m glad he didn’t get in but maybe he’ll be back with something heavier, or a crowbar. I’ve got to move everything out of there as soon as possible.”

  Her mouth went tight. “Good idea. And whoever it was, they would have waited for a key from the realtor if they had good intentions. No, it was definitely a thief. It makes me sick to think on it. All your work, all that time and effort― gone.”

  “All our work,” he reminded her.

  She looked up with a shy smile and he was ready to declare everything about Henry was plain wonderful. Everything she said was charming. And he loved the way she looked right now, with her hair loose around her shoulders, her eyes so green because there weren’t any glasses to hide them. Her mouth was perfect, but he’d never really known what her lips looked like without the bright lipstick. The bottom lip was plump and the top matched it perfectly, both tapering to perfect points on either side. When she talked, one side was a little higher than the other, giving the impression she was keeping some amusing thought to herself. She lifted her coffee cup to take a sip, blowing on the surface, and her lips were pursed as if she were kissing―