Gabriel's Redemption (Gabriel's Inferno Trilogy)

by Reynard, Sylvain

  He knew that he should tell Julia about his confrontation with Christa. But he also knew that it would upset her, potentially ruining her opportunity to appear poised and self-confident in front of the conference attendees. So he kept the distasteful details to himself.

  Besides, he had Mr. Norris to worry about.

  Paul had been a good and loyal friend to Julia, especially when she’d needed him. But he’d made a play for her, something Gabriel understood but would never forgive.

  He wanted to keep Julia as far away from him as possible. But the look on her face when she saw him killed that possibility. She’d had precious little to smile about the day before. Gabriel was not about to kill that look.

  He tapped his foot quietly as the first conference speaker began her presentation. He was absolutely oblivious to the distracting noise his handmade Italian shoes were making against the floor until Julia laid a gentle hand on top of his knee.

  He took out his Meisterstück 149 and toyed with it, trying in vain to flip it over his fingers in a single motion.

  In an effort to distract himself from a paper he swore he’d heard before, he thought back to his very public fight with Julia, when she’d been a student in his seminar. She’d provoked him in front of Paul, Christa, and the rest of the class. He’d been horribly embarrassed and furious. In his rage, he’d even destroyed what had been a very serviceable Ikea chair.

  He’d learned a great deal from Julia in the interim, not least of which was the importance of forgiving others and one’s self. But Julia’s pacifist tendencies were too extreme. Without him, or someone like him, she’d been broken and abused.

  Gabriel watched her thoughtfully. Perhaps she’d become a pacifist because she’d been abused. Perhaps the bearer of scars was all too aware of the damage that could be done by vicious words and deeds. He pondered that insight for some time, staring at her, until she squirmed.

  Julianne was beautiful, with clear skin and large eyes, but she didn’t know it. She didn’t see what others saw, and although she’d made much progress since they’d been together, Gabriel knew that her self-image would always be less than it should be. He knew this and because of it, he was careful to protect her, even from himself.

  He certainly wouldn’t let the Angelfucker capitalize on her weaknesses.

  Chapter Thirteen

  January 2011

  Near Essex Junction, Vermont

  Paul Norris stepped into a very large pile of cow shit.

  “Fuck,” he exclaimed, lifting his boot.

  Bessie, one of his father’s prized Holsteins, cast him a baleful look.

  “Sorry, Bessie. I meant fudge.” He patted the cow on her neck and began to clean off his boot.

  As he shoveled manure in his father’s barn in the early morning, he contemplated the inner workings of the universe, karma, and what his life had become. Then he thought about her.

  Julia was going to marry the bastard. By this time tomorrow, the wedding would be over.

  He couldn’t believe it.

  After everything Emerson had put her through . . . after all of his paternalistic, asinine, controlling bullshit. She took him back. Worse—she didn’t just take him back; she was marrying him.

  Emerson the ass.

  Why?

  Why do good guys always finish last?

  Why do the Emersons of the world always get the girl?

  There is no justice in the universe. He gets the girl and I’m shoveling shit.

  Julia said that he’d changed, but really, how much could one man change in the space of six months?

  He was glad he hadn’t accepted the invitation to the wedding. To have to stand there and watch them look into one another’s eyes and say their vows, knowing all the while that Emerson was going to take her to a hotel somewhere and . . .

  Paul groaned the groan of a man in love who’d lost his beloved.

  (At least he had a lot of shit with which to occupy his time.)

  He was working on his parents’ farm in Vermont because his father was recovering from a heart attack. Despite his recovery, the doctors instructed him to refrain from performing manual labor.

  Walking back to the house from the barn at eight o’clock, Paul was ready for breakfast. It was cold and the wind whistled through the trees that a Norris ancestor had planted as a windbreak around the large farmhouse. Even Max, the family’s border collie, was cold. He ran in circles, barking at the falling snow and begging to be let inside.

  A car traveled up the long drive from the main road, stopping inches from Paul’s feet. He recognized the car immediately—a lime green Volkswagen beetle. And he recognized the driver as she opened her door and placed one Ugg-clad foot after the other onto the freshly plowed driveway.

  Allison had dark curly hair, freckles, and snapping blue eyes. She was funny, she was smart, and she was a kindergarten teacher in nearby Burlington. She was also Paul’s ex-girlfriend.

  “Hi.” She waved. “I brought coffee from Dunkie’s.”

  Paul saw that she was carrying a tray that had four large coffees from Dunkin’ Donuts and a bag that contained mysterious treats. Treats that he hoped included fried dough covered in sugar.

  “Go inside. It’s freezing out here.” Paul waved his gloved hand at the house and followed Allison and Max through the snow.

  Paul pulled off his boots and outdoor clothes in the mudroom, placing his gloves on a rack to dry. Then he began washing his hands, scrubbing vigorously under the warm water.

  He could hear his mother, Louise, speaking to Allison in low tones in the kitchen. She didn’t sound surprised at Ali’s sudden appearance. Paul began to wonder if her appearance wasn’t all that sudden.

  When he entered the kitchen, his mother disappeared with two of the coffees.

  “How’s your dad?” Allison handed him his cup.

  He sipped it quickly, wanting to put off his answer. The coffee was perfect—black with two sugars. Ali knew how he liked his coffee.

  “He’s better.” Paul’s voice was stiff as he sat across from her at the kitchen table. “He keeps trying to work, and Mom keeps telling him not to. At least he didn’t make it out of the house this morning. She caught him in time.”

  “We sent flowers to the hospital.”

  “I saw them. Thanks.”

  They sat quietly, awkwardly, until Allison reached her hand across the table to take Paul’s large paw in hers.

  “I heard about the wedding.”

  He looked at her in surprise.

  “Your mom told my mom. They ran into each other at Hannaford’s.” She rolled her eyes.

  He shook his head but said nothing.

  “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. She’s clearly a fool.”

  “She isn’t, but thanks.” He squeezed her hand. He was going to withdraw, but it felt nice to hold her hand. It felt familiar and comfortable and God knew that he needed comfort, so he kept it there.

  She smiled and sipped her coffee. “I know this is a bad time. I just wanted to let you know that I’m here.”

  He shifted his weight, focusing on his coffee cup.

  “Do you want to go to a movie?” she blurted. “I mean, sometime. Not right now. It’s too early to go to a movie now.” Her cheeks pinked up as she searched Paul’s expression.

  “I don’t know.” He released her hand and sat back in his chair.

  “I don’t want things to be weird between us. We’ve been friends forever and we promised each other we’d always be friends.” She began to score the sides of her coffee cup with her fingernail.

  “Things are just—difficult right now.”

  Allison scratched at the surface of the cup.

  “I’m not trying to rope you into something. I really want to be friends. I know you’re busy and—stuff.” She began ripping off small piece
s of her coffee cup and placing them neatly on the kitchen table.

  “Hey.” Paul’s hand shot out across the table to catch hers mid-rip. “Relax.”

  She looked into his eyes and saw acceptance and kindness. She exhaled in relief.

  Paul withdrew his hand again, wrapping it around his cup.

  “We have a history and it’s a good one. But I don’t want to jump back into something with you. It would be too easy to do that.”

  “I’ve never been easy, Paul.” She sounded offended.

  He cleared his throat and looked her straight in the eye. “I never said you were. What I mean is it would be tempting to go back to what we had because it was comfortable. You deserve to be with someone who’s serious and not half in it.”

  Paul lost himself in the momentary silence that followed before realizing that Allison was waiting for something.

  He blinked at her. “What?”

  “Nothing. So are we on for a movie sometime or what? I might even take you to dinner at Leunig’s, now that I’m pulling in the big bucks as a teacher.”

  Paul found himself smiling, and his smile was genuine.

  “Only if you let me take you to breakfast at Mirabelle’s.”

  “Great. When?”

  “Get your coat.”

  He followed her to the back door and helped her with her coat. When she nearly toppled over trying to put her Uggs back on, he knelt on the sandy, salt-licked floor and slid them on her feet.

  “Half of you is better than the whole of anyone,” she whispered, if only to herself.

  Chapter Fourteen

  July 2011

  Oxford, England

  At the beginning of the conference’s lunch break, Julia excused herself to go to the ladies’ room, asking Paul to wait for her return. She was ascending the staircase on her way back to the lecture theater when a pair of Christian Louboutins came into view.

  Julia’s gaze traveled up a pair of legs clad in silk stockings to a black pencil skirt, to a fitted jacket, and thence to the face of Christa Peterson.

  Her expression was hostile but noticeably tense as she clutched the railing with whitened knuckles. She shifted her weight between her feet as if she were uncertain whether to proceed or to retreat.

  “I can’t wait to hear your paper. I’m sure I’ll have a few questions.”

  Julia ignored her and tried to move forward, but Christa blocked her.

  Julia huffed impatiently. “What do you want?”

  “You think you’re so smart.”

  “We have nothing to talk about.”

  “Oh yes, we do.”

  Julia screwed her eyes shut before opening them incredulously. “Seriously? You want to have this argument here, at a conference? Don’t you see how your actions are hurting your career? Gabriel says that Columbia made you enroll in the M.Phil rather than the PhD. You burned bridges in Toronto, and you’re burning them here. Don’t you think it’s time to let things go?”

  “I don’t give up that easily.”

  “Your vendetta is ridiculous. I never did anything to you.”

  Christa laughed darkly.

  “It isn’t about you. You aren’t worth troubling about.”

  “Then why?”

  Christa tossed her hair. “You have something I want. I always get what I want. Always.”

  “Let me go.” Julia lifted her chin defiantly.

  Christa’s almond-shaped eyes passed over Julia from head to foot.

  “I don’t understand what he sees in you. You aren’t that pretty.” She waved a contemptuous hand at Julia’s unassuming suit and less-than-designer shoes.

  “Gabriel is beautiful. He’s a legend. All the women at Lobby knew him and all of them wanted to fuck him.” She looked at Julia scornfully. “Yet, somehow out of everyone, he ends up with you. But you won’t be able to keep him. He needs to be with a woman whose appetite is as voracious as his.”

  “He is.”

  Christa laughed, the sound tinny and brittle. “Hardly. I’m sure he enjoyed the conquest, at the beginning. But now he’s had you, his eye will wander and you’ll lose him.” Her eyes flashed with a knowing light. “He’s probably cheated on you already. Or he’s planning to.”

  “If you don’t let me go, I’m calling for help. Do you really want to be embarrassed in front of everyone? Again?”

  Christa hesitated, and Julia took the opportunity to brush past her. She was two steps from the top of the staircase before she stopped. She turned around.

  “Love,” she said quietly.

  “What?”

  “You’re wondering what Gabriel sees in me. The answer is love. I know about the other women. He hasn’t kept secrets from me. But they aren’t a threat.”

  Christa put her hands on her hips. “You’re delusional. So you love him. So what? Look at yourself. Why would he want such a vanilla little mouse when he could have a tiger in his bed?”

  “Better a loving mouse than an indifferent tiger.” Julia straightened her shoulders. “Those women didn’t see who he truly is. They didn’t care that he was miserable. They would have used him until there was nothing left and then thrown him away. I’ve loved him since I was seventeen. I love all of him—the light and the dark, the good and the bad. That’s why he’s with me. He left the others behind and he will never go back. So do your worst, Christa. But if you’re planning to seduce my husband, you—will—fail.”

  Julia turned to walk away but stopped again, facing Christa one last time.

  “You’re right about one thing, though.”

  “And what’s that?” Christa sounded contemptuous.

  Julia smiled knowingly. “My husband is an exceptional lover. He’s attentive, creative, and absolutely mind-blowing. And tonight and every night, the woman enjoying his adventurous nature will be me.”

  She gave Christa a long look.

  “Not bad for a mouse.”

  “I’m sorry you had another run-in with Christa.” Paul’s tone was sympathetic as he escorted Julia from St. Anne’s to a small Lebanese restaurant that was within walking distance. “I guess she’s only here to harass you.”

  Julia fidgeted with her wedding ring, moving it back and forth with her thumb.

  “She told me she was going to ask questions after my paper. She’s going to try to make me look stupid.”

  Paul wrapped his arm around her shoulders.

  “She can’t make you look stupid because you aren’t stupid. You stand your ground. You’ll be fine.”

  He squeezed her before removing his arm.

  “You look good. Much better than the last time I saw you.”

  She shuddered, recalling when she’d said good-bye to Paul outside her apartment in Cambridge the summer before. She’d been thinner and sadder, but cautiously optimistic that life at Harvard would suit her.

  “Married life agrees with me.”

  Paul grimaced. He didn’t want to think about what Julia’s married life included, because he couldn’t stand the thought of her sleeping with Professor Emerson. He hoped to God Emerson had given up his penchant for BDSM and treated Julia with gentleness.

  An image of Emerson tying Julia up flashed through his mind. His stomach rolled.

  “Are you all right?” Julia peered up at him. “You look a little green.”

  “I’m fine.” He forced a smile. “I’ve just noticed that the Rabbit is gone.”

  “It was about time, don’t you think?”

  “I’ll miss her.”

  Julia focused her attention on the sidewalk in front of them.

  “She returns at tense moments. My legs are wobbly just thinking about standing in front of all those people.”

  “You can do it. Just pretend you’re presenting your paper to me. Ignore everyone else.”

  Inst
inctively, Paul reached out to take her hand but stopped himself.

  He gestured to her awkwardly, trying to disguise his movement.

  “Uh, you cut your hair.”

  She tugged one of the dark locks that fell short of her shoulders. “I thought it would look more professional. Gabriel doesn’t like it.”

  “I’ll bet he doesn’t.”

  (Paul neglected to mention the fact that he agreed with the Professor.)

  He gestured to her left hand. “That’s quite a rock you have.”

  “Thank you. Gabriel picked it.”

  Of course he’d buy her a big-ass ring, Paul thought. I’m surprised he didn’t have his name tattooed on her forehead.

  “I would have married him with a ring from a box of Cracker Jack.” Julia looked at her hand wistfully. “I would have married him with a tie from a garbage bag. I don’t care about this kind of stuff.”

  Exactly. I could have never given her a ring like that. But Julia is the kind of girl who would be happy with next to nothing, provided she loved the guy enough.

  “He paid off my student loans,” she offered quietly.

  “What, all of them?”

  She nodded. “I was going to consolidate them and start making payments, but he insisted on paying them.”

  Paul whistled. “That must have cost him.”

  “It did. It’s taken some getting used to—the fact that we share everything including a bank account. I had a very small checking account when we got married. He had . . . more.”

  “How do you like living in Cambridge?” Paul changed the subject, far from eager to learn how much more the Professor had.

  “I love it. We live close enough to Harvard so I can walk. Which is good, because I don’t drive.” Julia sounded sheepish.

  “You don’t? Why not?”

  “I kept getting lost and ending up in sketchy neighborhoods. I called Gabriel from Dorchester one night and he had a fit. And that was after I’d used the GPS.”

  “How did you end up in Dorchester?”

  “The GPS screwed up. It didn’t recognize one-way streets. It even told me to do an illegal U-turn while I was driving through one of the underpasses. So I ended up farther and farther away from my house. After that, I quit.”