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Gideon
couldn’t argue with that. “I just think I might need to be more visible…
professionally.”
                “What
started this? It seems like a pretty big change of heart.”
                “Nothing.
And it has nothing to do with my heart. It’s just a conference.”
                “Okay.
Then let’s talk about why you’re really here.” Tom waved his hand toward the
phone, smiling. “You could have called. The telephone- it’s a modern
convenience we non-historians use for purposes of communication.”
                “Well,
if you’d rather I call next time, I can do that.” Irritation surged through
him. “And don’t try to poke around in my psyche. I don’t need a counseling
session.”
                “Fine.
No poking.” Tom watched his face for a moment. “I guess I won’t bother being
subtle. Just spill it.”
                “Nothing
to spill.”
                “I’m
your oldest friend. Probably your only friend. I know when you’re chewing
something over.”
                 “I
just need some time on the river. Nothing major.”
                “Well,
you know I’m always up for some bream fishing. Bix said they were real feisty
when he was out with Paul a few weeks ago.” Tom paused, as if choosing his
words carefully. His voice was much softer, all joking gone, as he said, “Gideon,
you know that whatever it is, you can always talk to me.”
                 “It’s
nothing. No existential crisis, no test of faith, no big temptations. I just
felt like a change of scenery was in order.”
                “Okay.”
He smiled as he spoke but Gideon could see the tension in his shoulders, in the
way his eyes were narrowed just a little. He didn’t say anything
more, just stood there, leaning against the desk, arms crossed over his chest.
                A
minute passed in uncomfortable silence. Gideon heaved a sigh. Half of him
admired how Tom could engage people on the very deepest level, bringing their
fears and hopes out into the light, giving support and encouragement by simply
hearing what needed to be said. And the other half of him wanted to tell Tom
that he was too old to have someone hold his hand and tell him everything would
be okay. Some things would never be okay. Some things were irreparably broken.
                “I
know what you’re thinking,” Gideon said. “But I’ve known for years that Duane
Banner is going to walk out of prison in October. I’m not going to throw away
everything I’ve built here and turn my back on everything I believe, just to
get revenge.”
                 “It’s
going to be tough once he’s out there, living like a free man. It’ll take some
adjustment. It’s another step in learning how to live with what happened.”
                “And
what I’ve done.” Duane Banner’s face was burned into his memory, along with
images of terror and death that populated his nightmares. There had been a
point in his life when he gladly took a place in hell just for the chance to
kill the men responsible for the destruction of his family. “But honestly, none
of that has anything to do with a river trip.”
                “Okay,
I believe you” Tom said. “Just remember―”
                “I
know,” he said. “And you’d be the first to know if I started making plans.” There
was real comfort in knowing that if he ever confessed a temptation to give
Duane Banner a taste of vigilante justice, Tom wouldn’t be disappointed in him.
They both knew redemption wasn’t simple. You fought for it every day, down in
the mud and the muck of life, one decision at a time.
                Tom
nodded.  “I’ll call Bix and see when he wants to go out on the river.”
                “Great.
Let me know,” Gideon said. “I’m headed over to Oakland