Reforming Gabe

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  Might as well get it over with. The green chair of doom was waiting for him. Gabe didn’t knock, didn’t ask permission, didn’t wait to be invited. He went in, plopped down, and looked at the ceiling. He’d come for an ass chewing, and he wasn’t leaving until he’d had one.

  “Gabriel.”

  “Coach.” Gabe continued to look at the ceiling.

  “Look at me,” Coach said.

  Gabe might not have complied, but there was something in him that had been conditioned to obey this man.

  “I told you to be careful of my girl.”

  “By the time you told me that, it was too late.”

  Coach nodded. “So I guess by then you were sleeping with her.”

  “All due respect, I refuse to discuss that with you. Neyland is an adult, and it’s none of your business.”

  Of course, that answered the question.

  “If this were a different time, a man would make you marry her—or kill you.”

  “I wish you would make me marry her. Or rather, make her marry me. I’m willing. Hell, willing is the understatement of the century. It’s all I want.” And God help him, that was true. Ever since the words had tumbled out of his mouth unpremeditated, it was all he could think of. “But good luck with making that woman do anything. She’d got a skull as thick as a brick with a made-up mind inside.”

  Coach didn’t say anything. He just sat there, with shock and confusion raging on his face. At last, Gabe had succeeded in surprising him. Happy day.

  “I don’t know what to react to first,” Coach finally said.

  “One first down at a time. That’s how you get to the end zone,” Gabe said. “That’s what somebody told me one time.”

  “First off, you do realize, don’t you, that you have just said you want to marry Neyland and insulted her all in one breath?”

  “Not really. I don’t think it’s any insult to state the truth about her thick skull and made-up mind. I don’t think it’s a particularly bad trait.”

  “And I suppose her thick skull and made-up mind is in reference to her refusal to marry you?”

  “No. I never had a chance there after what I did.”

  Coach sighed. “What did you do?”

  “You mean she didn’t tell you?” Now that surprised Gabe.

  “I didn’t know it had anything to do with you until you came lumbering in here, refusing to look at me. You always were one to tell on yourself. All she did was show up at the door, say she was moving in, and ask me to call Joy Daniels about that job teaching English.”

  “Then you’re getting what you want, aren’t you? So you ought to be happy.”

  Coach nodded. “You’d think. But you’ll learn one day, Gabriel, that you can’t be happy if your child isn’t.”

  “Doubt I’ll learn it firsthand. She’s ruined me for all other women. Since she won’t have me, I don’t know where I would get this potentially unhappy child who would inspire such misery in me.”

  “Do you want to tell me what you did?” That might sound like a question, but Gabe knew Coach too well to think there might be an option.

  “I most assuredly do not want to tell you, but looks like I’ve tricked myself into it. If there’s an alternative riding in like the cavalry, I don’t hear any hoof beats.”

  “I have never in my life known a man who could use so many words to say, ‘No, but I will.’”

  “I meant well. I really did. I only wanted her to be able to do the work she wants to do. You know—like you and I do.” Or did, in my case. Not going there.

  “Hell, boy. Meaning well is a rough start. It never gets you anywhere good.”

  “You don’t know the half of it. I talked Aubrey James into pretending to buy that necklace and wearing it on the red carpet, when it was my money that paid for it. Then I hired all those people to buy her other jewelry. The end.”

  Coach closed his eyes and put his head in his hands. “Not the end. Not even close. Carry on.”

  “Meanwhile, I talked her into submitting a design to be mass-produced. And she did—a really smart design, too. Original. It’s a—”

  “Spare me jewelry details. I know all about that. Vanessa told me. Now, get back to your screw up.”

  “Then Neyland found out what I did—about Aubrey and the rest of it.” He thought it was just as well not to mention to Coach that his daughter and been wearing nothing but a pair of fancy orange underwear when she found the jewelry. “So she won’t believe me when I tell her that I didn’t do anything to get that company to buy her design. That’s what her thick skull and made-up mind is about. She got that offer on her own, but she won’t believe it. She wrote me a check for what I spent. Told me if I didn’t cash it, she’d give it to some Satanic church in my name and call the press.”

  Coach let out a bark of laugher. “Good for her.”

  “Yeah. I was kind of proud of her myself. I guess I’ll cash the check and then figure out a way to give it back to her.”

  “You do that, Gabriel. Just slip it in her pocketbook. Maybe hide it under the front seat of her car. That’ll go well.”

  He had a point.

  Coach leaned forward and rested his arms on his desk. “I don’t know how to react to this. I never did know how to deal with you. You might be the only boy who ever played for me who confounded me at every turn. Half the time I didn’t know whether to punish you or hug you.”

  “Seems to me I ran a lot more laps than I got hugs.”

  “I generally erred on the side of punishment. But I can’t punish you anymore.”

  “Don’t be too sure. If you told me run laps, I’d do it.”

  “I’m tempted. But no matter what you’ve done, I don’t want you to get mowed down by a bulldozer, and that’s a real possibility out there right now.” He reached in the refrigerator behind himself and got a bottle of water. He did not offer Gabe anything. “So you love my daughter.”

  “I do.”

  Coach eyed him keenly. “You sure you’re not just distracting yourself because you can’t play ball?”

  Gabe wasn’t surprised at this. They both knew it, and they both knew Gabe was not going to discuss it.

  “I’m sure. If anything, I ought to be running from her for her own good. She ought not be burdened with someone who’s washed up. Not that she’s going to be. She made that clear.”

  “Why do you love her?”

  “Why? Don’t you think she’s worth loving? Shouldn’t you be wondering why half the world doesn’t love her?”

  “I’m asking the questions here. Why do you love my daughter?”

  Best to steer clear of how talented she was with her tongue or the way she clung to him and called his name when she came.

  “I don’t really know. She’s smart. Beautiful. She works hard and believes in herself. Or she did, until I ruined it. But maybe what I love best about her is that she knows all about me, and I got the feeling she loved me anyway. Or she did until I ruined that, too.” He spread his hands out before him. “But I know this: I’m done with football; I’m done with women. I guess maybe I’ll do something like sell vacuum cleaners. But only to men. Do you need one?”

  Coach shook his head. “Can’t say that I do. Son, if you love my daughter, why did you do such a fool thing? Did you not know what would happen when she found out?”

  “I didn’t love her then. I only wanted to help her. Or maybe I did. Come to think of it, I must have, or I wouldn’t have gone to so much trouble. Except for playing ball, I’m basically lazy.”

  “A fact I’m well award of,” Coach said.

  Gabe ignored that. “So, yeah. I definitely did love her. I just didn’t know it.”

  “What’s with people your age these days, always claiming they loved somebody but didn’t know it? I knew I loved Vanessa from the first time I saw her. Starting then, I made it my life’s work to make her love me back.”

  “Ha! Glad it worked out for you.”

  “I didn’t deceive Vanessa.
”

  “Yeah, well. Do you get no points for good intentions?”

  “Do you get points for fumbling on the one-yard line?”

  “I thought you’d be madder.”

  “I’m pretty mad. I told you not to encourage her. She needed to fail on her own.”

  Gabe’s hackles raised. “No, Coach. That’s where you’re dead wrong. She needed to succeed on her own. And, really, she did. She sold that design. I might have made mistakes. Okay, no might about it. I screwed up big time. But what I did, I did out of love and because I believe in her. I was trying to buy her some time. That’s what you do when you love someone—not hope they fail.”

  Coach slammed his fist on the desk. “Don’t tell me I don’t love my daughter!”

  “I’m not. I know you do. But you don’t believe in her. And you wanted her to fail out of fear.”

  “Wait until you have kids! You’ll see how scary it is to see them fail!”

  Coach jumped to his feet. Gabe followed suit and looked him straight in the eye.

  “Neyland did not fail! She just needed time and someone who believed she could do it. You could have been that someone, someone who could have done it right. But, no! You had to make her feel bad about herself at every turn. So it had to be me, the king of all idiocy, blundering around, destroying everything important. You never believed for one second she could make a go of her business. You say to every football player who comes across your path, ‘You can do it,’ about something. For me, it was that I could play for a division one school and then go to the NFL. For others, it might only be that they can make it through a scrimmage. But you always believe. Did you ever once tell Neyland that she could do it?”

  “My players are not my children. No matter how much I love you, even you are not my child. I didn’t want Neyland hurt!”

  “Me either. How’s that working out for us these days, Coach?”

  Weariness washed over Coach, and he backed off and sat down. “I was always an almost kind of guy, Gabe. My senior year in high school, we almost won the state championship. When I played at UT, we almost won the SEC. I made it through the draft, barely, in the seventh round. I almost made it to the NFL, but was released. I don’t want that almost feeling for Neyland and Todd. I want them to be the best at what they do.”

  Gabe sat back down. “How do you know she isn’t? Are you a jewelry expert?”

  Coach almost smiled. “Are you?”

  Gabe shrugged. “I’ve bought enough.”

  “So I hear.”

  “Trouble is, I’m not going to be allowed to buy the one piece I want to buy.”

  Coach nodded.

  “Here’s the thing, Coach. You aren’t an almost kind of guy. You’re the real thing. Do you feel like a failure?”

  He shook his head. “No. I have what I want. I have a happy life. But I could have given my family more if things had worked out differently. Neyland wouldn’t have had to struggle, wouldn’t have to do anything if she didn’t want to. And if she’d wanted to play with that jewelry, I could have financed it.”

  Gabe shook his head. “I can’t believe what I’m hearing. For a wise man, you just can’t get it, can you? Neyland doesn’t want to be idle, and she doesn’t want to teach English. And she doesn’t want to ‘play with that jewelry.’ She wants to create, and she wants others to appreciate her art enough that it will support her. It isn’t about the money. Hell, I succeeded in the NFL, and I couldn’t help. It wouldn’t have been any different for you.”

  “But the letdowns were painful, and I want to spare my children.”

  “I wanted to spare Neyland, too. And I wanted it to happen faster for her.”

  Coach sighed and passed a hand over his face. “Maybe you’re right, son.”

  “I am. Finally. Way too little, way too late.”

  “We’re idiots, aren’t we?” Coach said.

  “Fools. Imbeciles.”

  “We think we’re gods,” Coach said.

  Suddenly, the outer room was filled with the sounds of slamming locker doors and teenage boys ready to go to war on the practice field.

  “So do they.” Gabe motioned toward the noise. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  “It was not my intent for you to come home from your honeymoon and help me pack.” Emory, who’d barely been back at Beauford Bend for an hour, was moving into boxes the books that had been on the bookshelves for not quite two weeks. “I wanted to have everything cleared out by the time you got back.”

  Noel was leaving tomorrow for a game in Los Angeles and had insisted that Neyland take off today. Which was fine by her. She was exhausted and she needed to finish packing.

  “Jackson’s gone off to Nashville to check in with his band, and I’ve been nothing but idle for over two weeks,” Emory said. “A little work will do me good. But I wish you’d stay.”

  “I can’t.” It had been bad enough coming here today, knowing that Gabe was probably up in the family wing.

  Emory paused. “I wish you’d tell me what happened. I was thrilled when Gabe texted to say you had moved into the carriage house. So was Jackson.”

  In spite of her heartache, Neyland smiled. “You can’t convince me that anything except you thrills Jackson Beauford.”

  Emory twisted her mouth in a smile. “Maybe Beau. But he was pleased.”

  “I appreciate it. But I’ve decided to move home for a while.” Because—even if he leaves town—I can’t live on the same property where Gabe Beauford grew up, made love to me, made me laugh, and where, ultimately, I lost everything at once.

  “Neyland.” Emory’s tone was encased in sadness. “I wish you’d tell me what happened. I can see you’re hurting. You were so determined to hang on to your business and not move home with your parents. And then, just when you started to have some real success, you do this.”

  “I told you.” Neyland finished packing the last of the pictures and knickknacks she’d gotten around to putting out. That was the thing with not really living where you were supposed to. There wasn’t a lot of clutter and mess.

  “I know what you told me. But it wasn’t true.”

  Neyland had given Emory the same spiel she’d given Vanessa, Noel, Gwen, Abby, and Christian, and the same one she planned to give everyone else. She was tired of the day-to-day uncertainty of the business, and now that she’d unloaded her important pieces, she planned to pursue a job teaching school. As for the “unloaded” pieces—they were in her underwear drawer in her old childhood bedroom. They probably felt right at home there now. Having witnessed the kiss at the hockey game, her friends knew something had gone very wrong with Neyland and Gabe, but had respected Neyland’s wishes not to talk about it—for now. Mercifully, Emory hadn’t heard about it yet.

  “I don’t understand,” Emory said.

  “What’s to understand? I’m fickle. And a bad businesswoman. I proved that after I sold Catherine and thought I had made it. I need to do a job where someone else worries about the particulars of business and writes me a paycheck. I’ve got an interview next week for a job at the high school teaching English. Mrs. Montjoy is retiring. She taught me. I think she’ll put in a good word for me.”

  The only reason she knew about the interview was because her father had texted her last night when she’d refused to open her bedroom door. A chill went through her. What if she couldn’t do that job either? It had never occurred to her to wonder if she could handle a classroom full of teenagers while making them learn Chaucer, because she’d never intended to do it. Did she know enough about Chaucer anymore to teach it? Had she ever?

  Emory said, “You’re not fickle. And you’re so talented. If it’s only the business part of things that has you worried, I can help you—as much or as little as you like.”

  And, no doubt, Emory could. She had an MBA from Harvard and had turned Around the Bend from barely breaking even to a viable, money-making business.

  “Thank you. But I don’t want to do it any
more.”

  “I get the feeling,” Emory said slowly, “that this has something to do with Gabe.”

  So maybe Emory did know something.

  Neyland felt sick. That was not a road she was willing to go down with Emory or anyone else. Sure, she might have told the truth to her friends if none of them knew Gabe. But not only did they know him, this was his home. They were friends with him, and he was a member of Emory’s family. It wasn’t fair to them.

  And, besides, she didn’t want them to be mad at him. On some level, she wanted to defend him, but on no level could she forgive him. And that was a burning spot of hell.

  Neyland turned back to Emory. “Why would you think it had anything to do with Gabe? How could it?”

  “I don’t know. But Christian told me that the two of you seemed to be very together at the playoff game in Nashville.”

  “Oh. That.” Neyland shrugged. “Nickolai was back on the ice. The Sound was winning. Spirits were high. Gabe was flirting; I was flirting back. That’s all. It meant nothing.”

  And, in the end, that was true. It meant nothing to him and everything to her. And that was her fault for letting it.

  “Still … ”

  The worst—very worst—was waking up last night and reaching for him. How many nights had she spent with him wrapped around her, waking her—or she waking him—to make love again? Eighteen. Nineteen, if you count the wedding night when she left in the wee hours. But it might as well have been nineteen years. Her head could remember a time when he didn’t belong in her bed, but her body couldn’t.

  She wiped a tear away and hated herself for it. She was the strong, tough one. She never cried.

  “Oh, honey.” Emory started toward her with her arms open.

  “No, Emory. Please don’t. I love you, but if you touch me, I’ll start crying. And I’m afraid if I start, I might not be able to ever stop.”

  “All right. I’m sorry. I won’t ask you anything else about it. But I’m here. Okay?”

  “Thank you.” Neyland dried her eyes on her shirtsleeve.

  “New subject!” Emory went back to packing books, and Neyland went back to looking at the wall. “Are you ready for the dedication tomorrow?”