Reforming Gabe

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  That wasn’t really a new subject, though Emory didn’t know that.

  “Sure. Though I don’t have anything to get ready for. I just have to show up and be Coach’s daughter.”

  Emory laughed quietly. “I’m thinking that can be a hard day most days and wretched on Friday nights.”

  Not to mention a stadium dedication made possible by the man you love and you’re the only one who knows about the secret donation.

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “Maybe this will make it a little easier for you. When I found out they were having fruit punch and store-bought cookies afterward in the school cafeteria, I put a stop to that. I called the principal, and after the ceremony, everyone is going to be invited back to Beauford Bend for a simple, but nice, reception.”

  Oh, no. Oh, hell. “No, Emory. You just got back. You can’t possibly … ”

  Book in hand, Emory waved her off. “It’s done; it’s what I do, remember? The weather is supposed to be nice, and I’ve already called in staff to set up Party Plan B in the grove. I ordered the cakes from Eat Cake. For the other food, we’re catering in part of it, and Gwen will take care of the rest. I’ve called the Enchanted Garden, and they’re taking care of the flowers.” Emory put the book she’d been waving around in a box. “Easy. All done.”

  “Sounds like.” And there was no way to undo it. “Just when did you do all this, Emory?”

  “On the plane on the way back.”

  “Is there anything I can do?” Like burn Beauford Bend to the ground so this can’t happen?

  “Just show up and be Coach’s daughter. I want to do this for him—and for you.”

  Thanks, Emory. “Tell me about Hawaii.”

  • • •

  “I think I’ve figured something out.” Jackson walked into the family room where Gabe was playing Xbox. “I think I would have figured it out before, but I was too busy getting married.”

  “Mmm.” Gabe did not look up.

  Jackson plopped down on the sofa beside his brother. “I know—”

  “Dammit all to fucking hell!” Jackson had distracted him, and now he was dead. Bastard. He tossed a controller to Jackson. “We’re playing Call of Duty. Saddle up.”

  “We are not playing Call of Duty. Stop! Give me that.” Though Gabe had raised it high above his head, Jackson grabbed his controller. “Now listen to me. I mean it.”

  “Yeah, yeah.” Gabe put his head back and closed his eyes.

  “Gabriel, what is wrong with you? You’re acting like you’re fifteen, hungry, and horny.”

  “Isn’t that the definition of fifteen? Or, really, me at any age? Did you bring any macadamia nuts from Hawaii?”

  “No. I did not.”

  “For real? That’s one of the main reasons I go to Hawaii. Who goes to Hawaii and comes home without macadamia nuts?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Maybe Emory brought some.”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.”

  “I think I’ll go ask her.” Gabe rose.

  “Sit down, Gabriel. Do it.”

  Sit down! Look at me! Sign this contract. Get out of my life and don’t love me! Everyone was trying to boss him around, and he was tired of it.

  Gabe sat back down. If he didn’t watch it, pretty soon he’d be following all those orders and end up signing that contract and getting out of Neyland’s life. Wait. He already was.

  “You paid for that stadium, didn’t you?” Jackson said.

  “What?” Gabe jerked his head up. With everything else whirling around in his head, that had not been utmost on his mind.

  “Thought so,” Jackson said with some satisfaction. “Your face always did give you away.”

  “I didn’t do it.”

  “Yes, you did. Before the wedding, I had some vague idea that people thought I did it. I kept meaning to get to the bottom of it, but I ran out of time. So don’t try to lie to me.”

  “So what? What does it matter who did it? It needed doing.”

  “Yeah. And I might have done it. But then I find out they waited on me to do the dedication because they think I did it. I don’t like taking credit for something you did, Gabe.”

  “Don’t take credit. Don’t not take credit. Just keep your mouth shut. Can you do that, Jackson?” His voice was escalating. “Just not say anything? Because I really need you to do that. I’ve had a rough few days.”

  “Whoa, whoa.” Jackson put up a hand. “All right. Just don’t get hysterical. And don’t faint like some underfed runway model. I don’t have any smelling salts.”

  Smelling salts. They wore little vials of smelling salts on chatelaines sometimes.

  That’s what Neyland said. There ought to be chatelaines for men who’ve blown it big time. The chain would be a big watch chain that hung halfway to the knee, but what would hang off it? A flask, for sure. Maybe two. A bottle opener in case your beer didn’t have a screw top. Might as well have a corkscrew. Times like these called for screw top wine and screw top beer, but you never know. You might get your ass dumped in some kind of posh situation. What else? What else? Game controller—attached so your asshole brother couldn’t take it away from you. TV remote. Knife in case you needed to slit your wrists.

  He laughed a little to himself. That was pretty funny. He’d have to tell Neyland … Except he couldn’t. He lived in a world where he would never be able to tell Neyland anything again.

  And how could that be?

  “I’ve got to go.” He rose and headed toward the door.

  “Gabe?” Jackson sounded perplexed. “Where are you going? What happened?”

  But he didn’t look back.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  When Neyland woke, she didn’t remember where she was.

  Then she saw the boxes stacked against the wall beside her childhood desk. She’d meant to unpack, but she’d been so tired, she’d decided to lie down for a minute. She picked up her phone. 3:23 p.m. That had been two hours ago.

  Being in no mood for sympathy and questions from her mother and “I told you so” from her daddy, Neyland had been avoiding her parents, but it was safe to go out now. Her mother was showing a house this afternoon, and all-hallowed football practice would be in full swing.

  Her stomach growled. When had she last eaten? Hard to remember. She ran her fingers through her hair and pulled it back in a messy ponytail as she headed toward the kitchen.

  At first, she thought the person sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading the paper was an intruder. When she realized it was her father, she looked, first, at the clock on the microwave to verify that the time on her phone had been correct and, second, out the window to be certain it was daylight.

  Clearly, something bad had happened. “Did you get fired?”

  He frowned. “No.”

  “Mother? Todd? Are they dead?”

  He stood up. “Of course not! Why would make you ask such a thing?”

  There was no malice or sarcasm in her voice when she answered, “I can’t think of anything else that would make you miss practice. Did you cancel it? Because of the dedication tomorrow?”

  “No.” He took her arm and guided her to a chair at the table. “No reason to cancel. But I’m skipping practice. The other guys have got it. Are you hungry?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer, which was good because she was struck dumb.

  He set a skillet on the stove and pulled out bread and eggs. Neyland didn’t realize what he was doing until he took the biscuit cutter from the drawer and cut a round out of the center of the bread.

  “You’re making egg in a basket.” This was something he’d done for her when she was a little girl—back before he became head coach, when he’d been offensive coordinator.

  “I am.” He put the bread and round cutout in the sizzling skillet and cracked an egg in the hole in the bread. They were quiet as he patiently finished the preparation. Neyland hadn’t had egg in a basket in years—probably since
Daddy had become head coach when she was ten. Mama always said she didn’t have the patience to make it. It was a simple process, but the timing had to be perfect since Neyland insisted that the yolk be cooked hard. Daddy was the only one who could get the egg done without burning the toast.

  He set it on a plate in front of her. “I used to let you have chocolate milk with this. I don’t think we keep the makings for that anymore. How about some coffee?”

  “Perfect.” She laughed at her choice of words.

  “What’s so funny?” he asked as he poured her coffee.

  “Nothing.” She was surprised when he put the barest drop of cream in her coffee and gave it a stir, surprised that he knew how she took it.

  “I’ve always wondered,” he said as he took a seat, “why you bother with cream at all when you use so little.”

  “It’s just enough to take the bitter edge off but not disguise the taste of the coffee.”

  He nodded. “And now I’m wondering, since I’ve always wondered, why I never asked.”

  Neyland took a bite of her food. “This is delicious. Thank you.”

  “I should have made you more of those over the years.”

  “If I’d remembered how good they are, I might have insisted.”

  “I’ve been trying to talk to you for almost twenty-four hours now, though I’m glad you have been able to give me the slip until now.”

  “I’d give you the slip now if I could. But why are you glad?”

  “I had a chat with someone I didn’t know was wise until yesterday.”

  “Jimpson?”

  “No, baby girl. I’ve always known Jimpson was wise. And I talk to him almost every day. He’s still wearing your bracelet, by the way.”

  “Good. I thought they might have taken it when they arrested him for getting naked in the mayor’s office last week.”

  “No. They’re tolerant of Jimpson down there.” He took a sip of his coffee. “No. It was Gabe Beauford I talked to. Or rather who talked to me. He left me a little bruised and bloody, I’m ashamed to say.”

  Bruised and bloody? How dare he?

  “Gabe hit you?” She was half out of her chair.

  “Simmer down, sister. It’s a metaphor. Gabe’s right. You’ve got no business teaching English.”

  So, now she couldn’t teach English either. Maybe she could roam the streets with Jimpson. She might be good at that.

  “I didn’t know that Gabe was an expert on the qualifications of educators.”

  “I don’t know that he is. But he’s somewhat of an expert on you—at least more than I am. Though that’s not saying much. I’ll own that.”

  When unsure how much party two knows, party one should always remain silent. Neyland popped the little toast cutout in her mouth. “This is always the yummiest part. I wonder exactly how much butter it absorbs. Maybe it’s best you haven’t been making egg in a basket for me all these years.”

  “No, Neyland. Butter notwithstanding, it’s not best that I stopped making you egg in a basket. I should have taken the time to do that and a lot of other things. I’m sorry it took Gabe to point it out to me. I’ve been very wrong about some things.”

  She looked into her coffee cup. “Gabe doesn’t know anything about me.”

  Coach laughed a little. “Oh, he knows, baby. He knows. He didn’t know soon enough, but he gets it now.”

  Neyland met her father’s eyes and gave him a questioning look.

  “I know what he did, Neyland. He told me.”

  “No!” She rapped her fist on the table in frustration. “Can that man not keep his mouth shut about anything? Ever?”

  “Shh.” He covered her fist with his hand. “I haven’t told anyone—not even your mother. As for Gabe remaining silent, you know he can’t. He can catch a football—or he could at one time. Take a good picture. Make a decent commercial. He can do a lot of things, including love you. But he can’t keep his mouth shut. He never could. But I don’t think he’ll tell this to anyone else. He cares too much about you.”

  Neyland stood up and took her dishes to the sink. Gabe. Always, Gabe. “Daddy, I don’t know how much Gabe told you, but if you’re here to plead his case, forget it.” He wasn’t even pleading his own case. She had half expected him to at least try to call. Not that she wanted him to. Not that she’d answer.

  “I’m not.” He got up, took her arm, and eased her back into her chair. “That’s between him and you. And I suspect what he believes is true: he has done the unforgivable so there’s no point in trying.”

  “Then he’s right.” But the words felt hollow in her mouth. On some level, she wanted her father to plead for Gabe, to make her see a different angle, where it might be possible to find a way to fill the aching void and soothe the wracking pain.

  “I’m not going to defend what he did. I’m not going to tell you he meant well. I don’t really give out points for meaning well, especially for stupid acts. But I do believe him when he says he didn’t have anything to do with you selling that design for those necklaces. And I think you should believe it, too.”

  “Why should I? He lied about everything else.”

  “I understand. But I wish you would consider that he might be telling the truth—not for his sake, but your own. I believe him because he confessed everything else he did—the whining until that singer did what he wanted, the hiring of actors. Why own up to that and lie about the rest? Also, you’re talented. They’d be lucky to get you.”

  The last part got a little smile from her. “Daddy, I appreciate that. But you don’t know if I’m talented or not.”

  He nodded and smiled. “You’re right. I don’t. But I’ve never done you right about this. I wanted a sure thing for you, and I never considered what you wanted for yourself. And I should have been supportive. But unlike Gabe, I hope I’m not too little, too late.”

  She sighed. “Of course not, Daddy. I appreciate it. And I love you. But it’s over for the jewelry and me. I suppose if, like Gabe says, I can’t teach English, they can fire me. Provided that I get the job.”

  “I want you to withdraw your application.”

  “I have to work,” she said.

  “I agree. But you need to work at making your jewelry.”

  “You don’t understand. My resources are gone. I can’t so much as buy enough silver to make one tourist bracelet.”

  “I do understand. And I showed Gabe a few truths, too. I think he understands now he has to keep the money you returned to him—though you did a good job of making him understand he had to cash the check. I don’t think he wants to get a Satanic worship bumper sticker and a newsletter for the rest of his life.”

  “Was there anything he didn’t tell you?”

  “I don’t know. That mouth gets moving … But back to your jewelry making. Sell the design to those people. You earned that on your own. Continue to work out of Noel’s shop. Live here with us. We can’t finance your business, but we’ll help all we can. And we can certainly feed you, take care of your car expenses, and put a roof over your head until you get on your feet. And I don’t think that will be long coming.”

  He was sincere. And she didn’t have the heart to tell him that, while it wasn’t too little, it was too late.

  “I’ll think about it. And thank you, Daddy. I really do mean that.”

  He nodded. “About Gabe—”

  “No.” She put a hand up as if to protect herself, closed her eyes, and recoiled.

  “Honey, look at me. This is important.”

  She only half obeyed by opening one eye.

  “I want you to think long and hard about this. If you don’t forgive Gabe, if you let him leave town, are you going to regret it the rest of your life?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. But if I do, it’s regret I’m going to have to live with. I can’t see any way around it.” Even now, the humiliation of that moment rocked her to the core.

  “Okay. I had to ask. You know what you’re doing.”

 
; “Don’t be sure of that. But I can’t be with Gabe. I might not be able to be with anyone else, but I can’t be with him.”

  “That’s something like what he said—that you’d ruined him for all other women.”

  “Apparently, not soon enough.”

  “I don’t know how it could have been any sooner. What’s it been? Two weeks? Three?”

  “Nineteen days. How can anybody know anything in nineteen days?”

  “I think if you don’t know in nineteen days, you never will.”

  “It’s nineteen days I wish I’d slept through.”

  “Do you?” He gave her a searching look. “Do you really wish that, Neyland?”

  “I don’t know, Daddy. Besides, it doesn’t matter what I wish. But if I had a wish, I wouldn’t use it for that. I’d use it to—” She stopped because she’d promised not to tell.

  “What would you wish, Neyland? I’m guessing it’s something for Gabe.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “Because if I had a wish, I’d use it for you, or your mama, or Todd.”

  “I’d wish Gabe could catch the ball again so he could sign his contract and be happy.”

  “So you know about that.”

  Neyland nodded. “It was hard to miss. That day I came by practice with Mama, I saw. He closes his eyes. He still catches most of the time. But those are high school boys. He can’t go back on a pro field. And he knows it.”

  Coach nodded. “And he’s told you he’s not going to sign? He has indicated that to me, though not in so many words.”

  “Yeah. He would have already announced, but his agent talked him into waiting a couple of weeks. I guess he’s hoping Gabe will change his mind, but he won’t. He can’t. Not until—”

  She stopped. It looked like she was dying to make a Freudian slip.

  “Until what, Neyland? If you know why he’s dropping that ball, you need to tell me. I might be able to help him.”

  “I can’t. I promised I wouldn’t tell. In fact, I promised I wouldn’t try to make him talk about it. So my hands were pretty much tied.”

  “Do you not trust me to keep Gabe’s secret?”

  “Of course I do. It’s just that … ”