Read These Sheltering Walls: A Cane River Romance for Free Online

He acted like a man with nothing to lose. Or one who didn’t
care who he hurt to get what he wanted.  
                “I
don’t know him that well.” She held up his business card. “Thank you for
stopping by and I’ll let you know if we need your help.”
                His
eyes narrowed for a moment as if he wanted to get some kind of guarantee that
he could be involved, but then he smiled. “Thanks for your time, Miss Byrne.
And say hello to your aunt Kimberley. Tell her I’m a big fan.”
                Lie.
                She
nodded, walking him to the door. As he left, she stood at the screen and
watched him walk back down to his car. As he pulled away from Oakland Plantation,
the sunlight flashed on the chrome hubcaps. Long after the dust had had settled
back into the long drive way, Henry was there still, thinking.
               
                 
                                                                            ****
                “Hey,
how’s my favorite introvert?”  Tom stood up from his desk and gave Gideon a
hug, clapping him on the back. His dark curly hair stood out straight as if
he’d been running his fingers through it.
                Gideon
set down his leather satchel on the floor and slumped into the chair across
from Tom’s desk. “Thinking he should get back to his office where it’s safe. I
was just near run off the road ‘cause I was going the speed limit. Whatever
happened to slow country life? It’s Thursday afternoon in Natchitoches and
everyone’s driving like it’s Saturday night in New York City.”
                 “You
sound like old Sal Panettiere. Every Sunday he traps me at the door on the way
out and gives me a lecture about how things were in his day, when the men caught
dinner and the women cooked it.”
                “I’m
not that far gone. I’ve had possum stew and I’ll stick with tater tot casserole,
as much as I hate it, thank you very much.” He didn’t know how Tom could stand
the cramped little office. Being the parish priest of the oldest church in Cane
River should have some perks, like a window with a view. But Isle Brevelle was
on the National Historic Registry and there weren’t many renovations they could
do on such an old building.  He rolled up his sleeves, his movements sharp with
nervous energy and free-floating irritation.
                “Are
you working out more?” Tom asked.
                “Me?”
Gideon lifted an arm and flexed, letting his biceps strain against his shirt.
“Maybe. It’s relaxing.”
                “Maybe
too much of a good thing. You’re getting muscles on top of your muscles.”
                 “I
don’t see the problem with that.”
                “Let
me put it this way,” Tom said. “I know you had to work hard to not look weak in
prison. But here, it just may be the opposite.”
                Gideon
frowned at him. “Are you saying I’m scary looking? Did somebody complain?” He
smoothed his tie. “It’s not like I’m covered in tattoos and shave my head.”
                “No,
nobody complained, but you’re always going to be working against preconceived
ideas. If you look like you spend all your time preparing for a fistfight, it
sort of fits their idea of who a felon is.”
                “Got
it.” Gideon could always count on Tom to tell him the truth.
                Tom
shuffled papers on his desk and Gideon knew what he was going to say before he
said it. It was like clock-work, this conversation. Every spring, summer,
winter, fall.
                “Harris
and Sally called. They hope you’re well,” Tom said.
                Gideon
nodded. Just hearing their names was like a physical pain, like a punch in