Reforming Gabe

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  “You gave your word.”

  She nodded. “I gave my word.”

  He nodded. “I respect that. But I might be able to help. And I think if there’s any chance of that, it’s worth breaking the promise.”

  Maybe he was right. Maybe she should tell. It wasn’t as if her father would ever use the information to hurt Gabe, and it damned sure wasn’t as if telling would harm her relationship with him.

  She closed her eyes. “All right. But, Daddy—”

  “Don’t worry, baby girl. I’ll take good care of this.”

  “He doesn’t know why it started, but I think I do. I can’t discuss it with him because I promised I wouldn’t. His friends Jamal and Tosha Washington—”

  Coach nodded. “Tight end for the Wranglers. Played for Alabama.”

  “I guess. They were here last summer. Anyway, they had a baby—a girl. She was born right before the Super Bowl, and Gabe’s the godfather. But anyway, it happened the first time in the last minute of that Super Bowl, and I think it was brought on by being around that baby. When Gabe reached up to catch that ball, what he saw was Camille coming toward him. And the ball slipped through his fingers just like Camille slipped through his fingers the night of the fire when Laura threw her to him.”

  “No.” Her father’s voice was wrapped in disbelief and denial.

  “So. Gabe has convinced himself that he failed to catch his sister because he was jealous. Apparently, she had some special bond with Rafe, and Gabe didn’t like it. So he thinks he killed her on purpose.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “That’s what I said. He was a child. Laura shouldn’t have put him in that position.”

  “Neyland, you don’t understand. I cannot fathom what Laura was going through that night. James was probably already dead. She knew she was going to die. I don’t know if Laura knew it or not, but that baby didn’t die when she fell. She was already dead from smoke inhalation. It wouldn’t have made any difference if Gabe caught her or not.”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  A lot of people had thought it odd that James and Laura Beauford had not been buried side by side, but with Camille between them.

  “I know it’s not what’s usually done,” Gabe had heard Aunt Amelia tell someone at the funeral. “But when I brought the boys down to the family cemetery and showed them how Camille was going to be buried to Laura’s left, Gabe got so hysterical that I changed the plan. It seemed best.”

  Though he knew they’d all been feeling it, Gabe had been the only one who’d shown any emotion that day, and he’d been out of control enough for all of them. There had been talk of sedating him, but he couldn’t remember now if that had happened.

  He sat down at the base of Camille’s little footstone. Since her grave was so tiny, that put him between his parents, probably somewhere at knee level.

  Safe in the cradle of dead Beaufords.

  All of the long-dead Beaufords had well-kept graves with fresh flowers, but these three were particularly resplendent with spring blooms. He supposed Jackson saw to that. Gabe had never thought about it before, had just assumed the graves took care of themselves.

  Now was an odd time to think about that, when he had just realized the repercussions of what he’d done to Neyland. It was realizing he could never tell her anything again that did it. That had never happened to him before. Before, when he broke up with someone, if he had something to tell, he just told someone else. But it was different now. Neyland was the one he wanted to tell things to.

  He brushed a dead leaf from the flat marker. What was the purpose of footstones, anyway? The headstone, with the angel, had all the information—name, birth and death dates, and a simple inscription: Gone Too Soon. (Should have been Gone Too Soon Because of Gabe.) The footstone only had her initials: C. M. B. Gabe traced the letters with his finger. The marble was warm from the April sunshine. Maybe the footstone was to keep people from walking on the grave, though he didn’t see how that was much use. An electric fence might work. Or a guard with a machine gun.

  But it was too late to protect her now. It had been too late to protect her by burying her between their parents, but he’d thought it was the thing to do at the time.

  Just like he’d thought it had been the thing to do to buy all of Neyland’s jewelry.

  He cleared his throat and spoke. “Hi, Camille. It’s your big brother, Gabe. I haven’t been here in a while. I guess last summer was the last time. I didn’t come Christmas. I was too wrapped up in myself like usual. There was an ice storm. Selfish bastard that I am, I left you out here by yourself. Though I’m sure Jackson came. He always does his duty. Probably Rafe came. He’s still the sweet one. I’m not sure about Beau. Nobody’s ever sure about Beau.

  “Anyway, not much to report. Jackson got married, though I’m sure he’s told you that, being dutiful and all. If you’d lived, you would have been in the wedding and worn that great big cream puff of a dress. Emory normally has good taste, but something happened when she was picking bridesmaid dresses. I could have helped her out, but she didn’t ask me. Oh. I got my heart broken. Finally. I might buy myself a piece of jewelry. I’m not much for jewelry on a man. I don’t wear any of those championship rings. But maybe some nice cufflinks or some monogrammed silver blazer buttons. Dad had some, but Jackson got them, being the oldest. I should have had them since I’m the one with the fashion sense. Well.” He rose. “I guess that’s about it. It won’t help, but I’ll tell you one more time. I’m sorry I didn’t catch you. I’m sorry I let you die.”

  “You didn’t let her die,” came a voice from behind him—the only voice he cared about hearing.

  Slowly, Gabe turned.

  Neyland’s hair was in a messy ponytail, she wasn’t wearing makeup, and her clothes looked like they’d been slept in. She’d never been more beautiful.

  His heart took flight. “You’ve changed your mind. You’ve come back.”

  She looked at the ground and shook her head. “No. But I found out something, and I have to tell you.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “I went to the house. Jackson said you always come here when you’re upset. And you were upset—something about getting killed in a video game.”

  Gabe shook his head. “Something about me getting my heart stomped on by Neyland MacKenzie—the only woman I want.”

  “Are we really going to talk about who did the stomping and whose heart is in worse shape?” She glanced at a stone bench a few yards away. “Can we sit?”

  “Sure.” That would have been his answer if she’d asked, “Can we go to China in a tugboat?”

  Once they were seated, Neyland folded her hands in her lap, as if she knew he was going to try to hold one of them—which he was. How could he help it?

  “First,” she said, “I want to make very clear I’m not here to reconcile; I’m not here to be friends; I’m not here to tell you I love you. I’m here only because I found out something about Camille’s death. No matter what, you deserve to know it. You’re a liar and a manipulator. But your understandable childish jealously didn’t cause Camille’s death. Even innocently failing to catch her didn’t cause it.”

  His head began to roar. As much as he wanted to talk to Neyland, to look at her, and breathe her scent, this was over the line.

  He got to his feet. “I’m out of here. You promised you wouldn’t bring this up.”

  She got up and pointed to the bench and yelled in a tone that no one would have called kind, “Come back here, Gabe Beauford! You’re in no position to talk to me about promises. Now, sit!”

  He did. He folded his arms across his chest, just in case she decided she wanted to hold hands. He’d changed his mind. He didn’t even want her anymore.

  Except he did.

  “Now.” Her voice was normal again. “I know I broke my word to you, but I told my father why you can’t catch the ball anymore.”

  Oh, hell, no! “You told Coach—”

  She
put up a hand. “It’s done. We aren’t debating whether I should have. In this case, I think the end justifies the means. You ought to understand that, given your approach to life. But even if you don’t, hear me out. You owe me that.”

  She had him there. He nodded.

  “This might be hard to hear, because it takes away any possibility that you could have ever been a hero and saved your little sister.” Her eyes went soft. “Gabe, she was dead when your mother threw her to you. She’d already died of smoke inhalation. It wouldn’t have mattered if you caught her or not.”

  “That can’t be true,” he said. “And even if it were, how would you know?”

  “Daddy told me.”

  “All due respect, Neyland. That man is a god to me, but even he can’t know that.”

  “He does. They did an autopsy. You know my parents were your parents’ best friends. Mama was close to your aunt Amelia and got closer after you mother died. Miss Amelia told them. What astounded Daddy is that she never told you.”

  “Aunt Amelia generally thought if you didn’t discuss unpleasant things, they would go away. But still. I can’t believe—”

  “Think back, Gabe. Was Camille crying and terrified, as any toddler would have been in that situation? Was she clinging to your mother and screaming?”

  “No,” he said quietly. “She was still. And quiet. She was asleep.”

  “Asleep? Let’s say that was even possible under the circumstances. Did she wake as she fell? Did she scream and reach out to you? Did she wake when she hit the ground?”

  “No. She slept through it all.”

  “No, Gabe. She was already dead. And I’m sorry. So sorry.”

  Rattled to the core, Gabe stood and went to stand over Camille’s grave. It couldn’t be true. Nothing he’d lived with so long could be that wrong. Coach might or might not be part of it, but for whatever reason, Neyland was lying.

  “I’m not lying.” What? Could she read his mind now? He turned to look at her. Her hand fluttered forward, as if she meant to touch him. Then she drew back and closed her eyes, but not before he saw the misery—misery he’d put there.

  “But I was still jealous!” he said. “Even if she was … was … not alive, I still let her fall.”

  “No, Gabe, you did not. You loved her. You would have caught her if you could have. Why can’t you believe that? If nothing else, it would have been instinct. Don’t tell me you didn’t reach and stretch and try to catch that baby. Don’t tell me you didn’t try harder than you’d ever tried to do anything in your life. You were not capable of letting her fall on purpose.”

  “Why? Why do you think that?”

  “Because.” Her voice broke and she tilted her head back as if she was trying to will tears back into her skull. “You’re a good man, Gabe. Goodness like yours is born in the heart and never goes away. It just gets bigger.”

  “You just said I was a liar and a manipulator.”

  She nodded. “I didn’t say you were perfect. I didn’t say it wasn’t complicated. But even at that, the good outweighs the bad.”

  He took a step toward her. “If you really believe that, why can’t you find a way to forgive me?”

  “Because it’s not a matter of goodness. It’s judgment. And you don’t have any. I’ll never be able to trust you again. And I’ll never know for sure if you said you loved me only because I found you out.”

  “Please.” He held out his arms and took a step toward her.

  “No! Don’t touch me, Gabe. If you do, I’ll say anything you want me to, and it’ll be for all the wrong reasons.” She stiffened her spine and looked him dead in the eye. “Now you know the truth. My daddy says you need to talk to a sports psychologist, and he knows one of the best in Nashville. Call him. But don’t call me.”

  And she turned and ran. He wanted to follow her, wanted it more than he’d ever wanted anything. But he didn’t.

  He gave her time and then wandered mindlessly back home. He walked through the house, opening door after door until he found Jackson in his music room.

  Jackson didn’t look up from where he sat at the piano. “Go away, Gabriel. I’m writing. I know it’s you. You’re the only one who never knocks.”

  But Gabe just stood there.

  After a few seconds, Jackson looked up, and his face changed like quicksilver from annoyed amusement to concern. “Gabe? What’s wrong?” Jackson laid his pencil on the score on top of the piano and came toward him. “Gabe?”

  And then Gabe found himself clutched in his brother’s arms.

  Gabe told him everything.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  It was done. That half-finished stadium was now the Conrad Baker MacKenzie Stadium—Home of the Beauford Blue Devils.

  The ceremony had been just about what Neyland had expected, with interminable speeches and corny jokes, but her father had been happy, so Neyland was happy, too.

  Sort of. She’d been all too aware of Gabe. He’d been seated inconspicuously near the back in the rows of chairs set up facing the stage where Neyland sat with her mother, Todd, and all the important people. Gabe should have been up there, too. He’d ducked out before the ceremony was quite over, and she wondered if he was already on his way to Boston where Nickolai was playing hockey tonight.

  That would probably be best for all concerned. Neyland was on her way to Beauford Bend for the reception where, no doubt, there would be more speeches and more merriment. She had declined to ride with her parents and Todd because she wanted out at the first possible moment. Gabe or no Gabe, she had given this about all she could.

  Neyland parked her car and headed to the grove where Jackson and Emory had gotten married an eternity ago. She walked by the very spot where she’d dragged Gabe to kiss him and start the heavenly journey that had ended up in hell.

  Everything was done up in Blue Devil colors, and the crowd was big and getting bigger. Neyland spotted Abby and Christian sitting alone at a table on the edge.

  “Hi. Got room for me?”

  “That’s an understatement,” Christian said. “No one wants to sit this far from the action, but Abby might have to leave early.”

  Abby nodded. “I have to be at work later. But shouldn’t you sit with your family?”

  “No. I’ve been with them plenty. I want to sit with my friends.”

  And then she caught sight of Gabe. So he hadn’t left yet. There was no escape except into herself. She imagined gathering her limbs and pulling them inward until she was a tight little ball turned inside out. That way, it didn’t matter that people were patting her shoulder and congratulating her on her father’s behalf. It didn’t matter that Christian and Abby were talking about mundane things and trying to draw her into the conversation.

  Everything whirled around her. Drinks were served. Jackson sang a song; Neyland couldn’t have said what. The inevitable toasts began. It seemed to be former players now. She knew what that meant, but she wouldn’t think, wouldn’t listen …

  It went on and on. Present players, alumni, former stars, players who never even lettered. On and on and on. She heard none of it—until she heard Gabe’s name.

  Franklin Beason, who’d gone on to play for LSU but blew out his knee his sophomore year, had come back to town for the occasion and was ending up his accolade.

  “… good to see Gabe Beauford here today. They tell me I was the last on the list to speak, but since I’m one of the oldest former players here, I’m going to take the liberty of insisting that this be extended for a few more minutes before we get on to some good grub and some more of these excellent drinks. Gabe was the best among us. We know he might be too shy to talk.” Laughter went through the crowd. “But he needs to at least come up here and give us a good look at that pretty face of his. Come on, Gabe.”

  Applause thundered and Gabe reluctantly came to the podium. After sharing a brief hug with Franklin, he turned to the crowd.

  “Wow. I hadn’t intended to say anything today. This is Coach MacKenz
ie’s day, and nobody needs to hear me hold forth on anything. But here I am.”

  He closed his eyes, as if he was collecting his thoughts. Then he opened them and began.

  “There’s been a lot of talk about Coach today—statistics, records, character. It’s been established that a finer man has never walked, that he has given of himself when it was easy and when it was hard. He has inspired young men who might have never done anything worthwhile had he not been there for them—pushing, inspiring, and cracking the whip. If not for him, I’d probably still be up there”—he pointed toward the house with his thumb“—playing Mortal Kombat 2 and Doom.”

  Gentle laughter went throughout the crowd.

  “Any personal anecdote I could tell would just be more of the same. But there is something that hasn’t been mentioned today, and I think it’s Coach’s greatest accomplishment—at least from where I sit.”

  Sad blue eyes met Neyland’s and she wanted to stand up and scream, Gabe, don’t do it. Though she wasn’t precisely sure what he was about to do, she knew it needed to be stopped.

  He laughed a little. “I might get in trouble for this, but I can’t be in any deeper than I already am.”

  Don’t bet on it!

  “As far as I’m concerned, the best thing Conrad MacKenzie has done so far in this life—and I can’t see him living long enough to top it—is give the world Neyland MacKenzie.”

  Exploding stars in hell. It was worse than she had imagined, and it was about to go downhill. Neyland was sure of it. As heads turned her way, a little uncomfortable titter went through the crowd and then died into dead silence. Clearly, they couldn’t wait to hear what he was going to say next.

  If she’d wondered what she would do if ever faced with observing a train wreck, now she knew. She covered her face with her hands, but peeped out between her fingers.

  Gabe slouched a little against the podium and laughed under his breath. “Y’all do not know how amazing this woman is. You still have time. Do yourself a favor and find out. I, on the other hand, am out of time. I didn’t find out soon enough.”