These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance (17 page)

            Gideon
looked down at his hands, remember how it felt to hold her close. “Maybe she
did. I don’t remember.”

            “For
the sake of argument, let’s say she did. Just one question. And you answered
her honestly. Why is that bad?”

            Gideon
shot him a look.

            “Humor
me,” Tom said.

            “It
was too much. I never should have told her all of that.”

            “And
when would be a better time?”

            “Oh,
I don’t know… somewhere without fifty other people dancing in a big circle?”
Gideon couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

            “Why?”

            He
let out a huge sigh. Two nights in a row he sat on a bench just like this one
and watched Henry’s apartment.  Bix told him that Alice and Paul had come home
on Thursday and had the locks changed as soon as they heard about Henry’s
missing keys. That had left Gideon with one night of catch up sleep. Apparently
it hadn’t been enough. He was exhausted.

            Tom
sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Gideon, you’re never going to be
normal.”

            He
knew that but it still felt like a kick in the gut to hear. “Obviously.”

            Tom
went on. “That’s not a bad thing. But it is when you keep trying to make
yourself into someone else.” He gestured back toward the dance floor. “Blue
Chalfant is not going to spill his guts to Henry while they’re dancing. He’s
not going to describe the inner workings of his psyche or detail his biggest
fears. He’s not going to take the opportunity to expose the darkest moments of
his life.”

            “Thanks
for the reminder,” he said, but there was no heat in his words.

            “We
could sit here and wonder what Blue will really say. You could practice some
smooth lines and a little chit chat for the next time you see Henry.” Tom
looked him in the eyes. “But something tells me that you’d end right back where
you were tonight, telling her things that actually mattered.”

            Gideon
knew he was right. Something about Henry made him want to tell her the truth,
all of it.

            “Do
you really want my honest opinion?” Tom asked.

             “If
this isn’t your honest opinion, I’m afraid of what is.”

            Tom
said nothing, just waited patiently.

            “Okay,
give it to me.”

            “I’m
not really worried about why you’re telling her all these things. It makes
perfect sense to me, in a way. You’re not the kind of guy to waste time talking
about the weather.” Tom paused. “The real question is… what is Henry telling
you?”

            Maybe
he hadn’t screwed up as badly as he’d feared. Henry had done her share of
blurting out the truth. She’d told him things she’d never told anyone else.

            Maybe
to a woman sick of lies and pleasantries, honest was a good thing. Maybe there
was a chance for him after all.

“I do not mind lying, but I hate
inaccuracy.”

― Samuel Butler

            Henry
opened her e-mail and blinked at the name at the top of the list.
Gideon
Becket
. She hadn’t seen him since the Friday of the Zydeco Music Festival
weekend. Now it was Thursday. They’d spent every Thursday evening so far down
in the basement of the Finnemore house and all day she’d been swinging between
anticipation and dread.

            She
took a deep breath and clicked it.

           
Dear
Henry,

            
I borrowed a lathe and shaved down the door where it was sticking against the
frame. It should open easily now (from both sides). Let me know if it doesn’t
open for you and I’ll come over.

            Gideon

           
She
stared at the page for several minutes. The feeling in her stomach was the same
as when she’d been dumped by her first high school boyfriend. He hadn’t really
been a boyfriend, just a crush. Just like Gideon.

            He’d
bolted from the dance as soon as the song had ended.  Henry had pried into his life
too many times and he’d had enough. She thought that meant the end of any
chance of social interaction, but it must also mean the end of working
together. Well, not together, but
together
together.

            Fine,
she’d been avoiding him, too. On Sunday, she’d gone to Mass at the basilica
instead of St. Augustine’s. She’d told herself that it was because Patsy and
Denny were visiting, but the truth was that they would have gone wherever she
wanted. In fact, they loved the historical little country church. Father Tom
would have been happy to see them again. It was Gideon that Henry was avoiding
and he must know it. Hence, the fixed door.

            She
tightened her ponytail, pushed up her glasses and tapped out a quick reply.

           
Hi
Gideon,

     
                  Thanks so much! I appreciate that.

                        Henry

            She
hit the send button before she could think about it. Done. It wasn’t so hard to
e-mail him. She didn’t know why she’d insisted on seeing him face to face. It
was better this way, actually. When they got together, they seemed to do a lot
more talking than they needed to and certainly a lot more divulging of personal
details. At least, she did.

             Enough
work. She couldn’t stay in the little office any longer. Vonda and her
archeology partner, Joe, were making real progress on the outbuilding
excavation. Maybe they would let her help out for a while. She’d worn dark blue
slacks and cream colored linen shirt that day so she didn’t even have to worry
about a skirt and heels.

            She
found Clark, told him where she was headed and struck out across the park. After
a few minutes of walking she felt the muscles in her back and shoulders start
to relax, as if the land itself was a remedy for her tangled thoughts. 

             The
little white-washed building was set far back from the path but two large
hemlock trees grew up on either side, leaning toward each other like weary
sentries. The door stood open. Vonda and Joe were kneeling side by side,
brushing away the dirt with stiff-bristled whisk brooms. Floor boards were
carefully stacked near one wall and the dirt was marked out with tiny wooden
stakes and colored string.

            She
knocked on the door. “Hey, you two,” she said cheerily. It was incredibly
exciting to see the progress on the excavation. They’d already found several
interesting objects, including a clay marble, two old coins, three shell
buttons and two carvings that might be more than a hundred years old.

            They
looked up and Vonda spoke first. “Hi, Henry. Did you bring us some ice?”

            “Some…
what?” She looked around. The tiny room was swelteringly hot even though it was
early September. Outside, the breeze made the heat more than bearable, but in
the little house, it felt like a sauna.

            Vonda’s
face was red and shiny with sweat. The scarf she had tied around her hair was
crooked and she looked exhausted. Joe shifted back onto his haunches, then
stood and stretched his arms over his head. He was nearly six feet tall and
Henry had the impression of a slinky as he lowered his arms and his shoulders
slumped.

            “Can
I help?” She moved toward the nearest quadrant and looked around. “I saw the
notes on your work for the last two days. Y’all have been putting in some really
long hours. Do you want some volunteers? Or I can take a few shifts? I don’t
want to horn in on your project but I’m ready to help.”

            Vonda
looked at Joe and he nodded. “This heat is incredible. I’d rather work at ten
below zero like we did last spring, ‘member that, Vonda?”

             “That
was like heaven and hell all in one, if hell was freezing cold,” she said.

            Joe
laughed. “It started out all heaven, though.” He started picking up his
brushes. “The land was owned by a private school but before that, the area was
a plantation with slave quarters. Everybody thought the slave quarters were
gone until they tore down a house on the property and found the two hundred
year old original brick floors in the basement.”

            “It
was like a dream,” Vonda said. “Joe and I couldn’t believe we got picked for
that project.” She wiped sweat from her face, a dreamy look in her eyes. “The
first few days were full of incredible finds. Medicine bottles, ceramics, an
ivory button.”

            “And
then the weather started to turn.” Joe swept a hand from side to side. “We put
up huge tents and got most of the hand-made bricks removed, photographed and
catalogued so we could put them back later. Then it started to rain and never
stopped. Pretty soon we were bailing ourselves out like we were in a sinking
ship.”

            “Sounds
like a nightmare,” Henry said.

            “It
got worse,” Vonda said. “It was March and usually that means spring but this
was Maryland and suddenly it was snowing.”

            “A
lot,” Joe said. “The tent started to collapse. The water on the floor froze. We
had portable heaters hooked up, trying to thaw out sections of the floor so we
could dig.”

            “But
mostly we were just trying not to freeze to death,” Vonda said, laughing.
“Remember when you slipped backward into that slush puddle and your backside was
freezing solid?”

            Joe
held up a hand. “We don’t need to tell her everything.”

            She
turned to Henry. “I was afraid he’d get hypothermia before I could get him home
so he stripped down to get into that extra pair of pants and suddenly our chief
shows up with the rest of the field techs. They came to pack up because there
was a big storm coming but boy, did they get a surprise.” Vonda laughed and
maybe it was the affection in her voice, or the expression in Joe’s eyes, but
Henry realized these two were more than professional partners.

            “I’m
glad you thawed out,” she said. “And I wouldn’t want you to get heat stroke,
either. You two take the afternoon and go have some fun. Did you make it to the
Zydeco Festival?”

            “We
sure did,” Joe said and winked at Vonda. “I learned this woman can dance.”

            Vonda
giggled. “Not really. But I sure had fun.” She stacked her brushes near the
wall. “If you were serious about working in here, feel free to use my stuff. I
have knee pads and everything.”

            “Thanks,”
Henry said. “I think I will, actually. I need to get out of my office for a
while.”

            “Digging
in the dirt is good for the soul,” Joe said.

            Then
they were gone. Henry took off her glasses and grabbed Vonda’s knee pads. She
consulted the graph and chose a place near the open window. There was a tiny
breeze there and it stirred the hair on the back of her neck as she leaned
forward, gently brushing the dirt away in long swaths, breathing in the heady scent
of red clay and history.

            She
didn’t know how long she’d been working when she heard footsteps outside but
her arms were aching and she’d changed spots several times.

            Shock
traveled up her spine when Gideon stepped into the doorway. He blocked out the
light for a moment, stopping to knock lightly on the door frame, his face in
shadow.

            “Come
in,” she said, scrambling to her feet. She stood there awkwardly, brushing dirt
from her hands, knowing her hair was a mess. The knee pads were strapped on
tight and her pant legs were hitched high above her socks. Henry looked down at
herself and tried not to sigh. She must be a laughable contrast to the girl he
danced with at the Zydeco Festival.

             “I
don’t mean to interrupt. Clark told me you were out here.” He took a few steps
inside and looked around. He looked just the same, closely shaved and dressed
in his usual button up shirt, but he also seemed somehow different. Maybe it
was the way the light touched his profile or the way his eyes seemed bluer than
she remembered.

            She
wiped sweat from her upper lip and then wondered if she’d just given herself a
dirt mustache.

            “I
wanted to bring you these,” he said, and held out her keys.

            “Oh!”
She came toward him, feeling a little hobbled by the knee pads. “Where were
they?”

            “In
the box you were sorting.” He placed them in her palm, his fingers barely
brushing hers. “I went to move it and heard jingling in the bottom.”

            He’d
already been down there working without her. She pushed back a stab of
disappointment. A small part of her thought he might still want to work
together in the evenings.

            “Alice
already replaced the locks but I’m so glad to get these back.” She held them
up, gazing at the bundle. “I’d hate to have to replace the locks to all the
storage and main buildings in the park. I think I’ll be leaving these in my
office from now on.”

            He
smiled, crossing his arms over his chest and then uncrossing them. He seemed
almost nervous.  

            Maybe
they wouldn’t work together, but he could still be here for another reason. She
hoped it would be something that would involve walking through the park under
the trees, talking about whatever came to them.

            “I
don’t want to keep you,” he said. “You have a lot of work to do.” It sounded
like a question.

            “Actually,
I don’t really work in here. I’m so busy I don’t know whether I found a rope or
lost my horse, but I just needed to get out of my office.”  She gestured to the
pile of brushes. “I came out here to check how everything was going and my
archeology field techs looked close to heat exhaustion. They took the afternoon
off to cool down and very nicely allowed me to muddle around in their
workspace.”

             She
hesitated, feeling shy. “You’re welcome to pick a spot and get your hands
dirty.”

             “If
you’re sure they wouldn’t mind, I’d love to,” he said.

            “I’m
sure.” She hobbled back toward her space. If she’d thought working across a
table in a cool, damp basement was awkward, now Gideon would be watching her
sweat through her shirt while she crouched in the dirt. Still, she was pleased
that he accepted.

            She
explained the system, described a few things they’d found, and then they both
got down to business. To her surprise, after a few minutes, she felt the same
peace settle over her. They worked in silence for a long while.

            “Your
friend calls you Sherlock,” he said, not raising his eyes from the square he
was brushing.

            She
was going to have to talk to Patsy. “It’s not what you think. Well, not
completely. I’m not sitting around waiting to catch someone in a lie.” She
hated the defensive tone in her voice. “It’s because she doesn’t call me Henry,
really.”

            He
looked across at her. “And why not?”

            “Because
it’s not the name I was called when we were little and when I chose another
one, she’s never really gotten used to it. She knows I don’t like my original
name so she has to call me something.” She focused on the little whisk in her
hand.

            “Interesting.”
He was quiet for a moment and the only sound in the room was straw bristles
against the dirt. “Can I ask what your other name is?”

            She
bit her lip. It was too late to lie but telling the truth was more complicated
than he could ever imagine.

            “I
promise I won’t call you by it or mention it. I’m curious what name you found
so horrible that you refuse to use it.”