Reforming Gabe

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Reforming Gabe Page 20

by Alicia Hunter Pace


  Stop, it Gabe! Don’t tell these people our personal business!

  But he plowed on. “Not too terribly long ago, my friend Noel told me that when I found the right one, to not to let things that don’t matter get in the way, and that nothing else matters. I made light of it at the time because I’ve never believed there was any such thing as the right one or the wrong one. I thought that when people were ready to get married, they married who they were seeing at the time and it just worked out. Or not.”

  “ … not to let things that don’t matter get in the way, and nothing else matters.” Was that what Neyland was doing? Letting things that didn’t matter get in the way? Nickolai and Noel were so happy, but that had been different. Noel thought Nickolai had been cheating on her, but it wasn’t true. There was no doubt about what Gabe had done.

  “I did a stupid thing, really stupid. I guess it’s not fair to tell you that and not give you the particulars.”

  Neyland’s chest grew tight, and she couldn’t get her breath. She prayed to die rather than endure the humiliation of having all these people know what happened.

  “But I’m not going to give any details. I’ll tell you it didn’t involve another woman. Hell. There aren’t any other women—not as far as I’m concerned.”

  A little breath found its way back into Neyland’s lungs, but they weren’t out of the woods yet. Gabe was still talking, and when he was talking, all bets were off.

  “But what I did was bad. It was deceptive and stupid. She cannot forgive me, and I’m with her. I’ll never forgive myself. But even though she can’t and shouldn’t, she still did something amazing for no reason but to help me find my way off a dark path. Because that’s who she is.”

  She had to get out of here, but she couldn’t stand up and walk out with everyone looking at her. Maybe she could crawl.

  “So that’s all I’ve got to say. Maybe I shouldn’t have said any of it, but someone put a mic in my hand and here we are. So on your feet, everyone. There’s been a lot talk today, certainly too much by me, and not enough eating. Emory and Gwen have put together something nice so let’s all move over there.”

  For a second, no one moved. But someone turned on some music, the spell was broken, and, as if everyone was relieved at being released from an awkward moment, it was suddenly a madhouse of noise and people moving toward the buffet.

  Abby reached for Neyland’s hand.

  “I have to go,” Neyland said.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Christian asked.

  “No! Just let me go.”

  Abby squeezed her hand and nodded. “Call me.”

  “I will.” She wouldn’t. There was nothing to say to anyone. She had to get to her car. If she kept her eyes on the ground, maybe she could get there. She zigged, she zagged, she avoided, which wasn’t hard, because people didn’t know what to say to her.

  Almost there. Just look at the ground. There! Her car. Soon she’d be behind the wheel, speeding away. She fished her keys out, but dropped them. It was when she bent to pick them up that she saw the running shoes and the hem of pale blue, leisure suit pants.

  “Hello, Neyland.”

  She rose. “Jimpson. It was nice of you to come out today for Daddy.”

  “Everyone still thinks Jackson did it. I guess he’s letting them think it because that’s what Gabe wants.”

  “Gabe does want that,” she agreed.

  “From the sounds of things, that’s not all Gabe wants. But at least he’s getting one thing.”

  “Jimpson … It’s complicated.”

  “I don’t doubt it. Gabe Beauford was a complicated kid and he’s a complicated man. Tell me, Neyland, this thing he did to you—did he hit you? Or choke you? Lock you in a closet?”

  “Of course not! Gabe would never do such a thing.”

  “Hmm.” He nodded and looked over his shoulder at the crowd milling around in the grove. “Your mama, daddy, and Todd are all alive. So I guess he didn’t kill them.”

  “Jimpson, what are you getting at?”

  “Just trying to figure out what Gabe did that was so bad that you can’t forgive him.”

  “He … he tricked me into thinking someone had bought my jewelry. He deceived me.”

  Jimpson nodded. “That wasn’t nice. He must have done it on purpose to hurt you. You shouldn’t forgive him.”

  Jimpson was twisting everything. How dare he put her in the position of having to defend Gabe? But she did have to.

  “No. He didn’t do it to hurt me. He was trying to help me. But it was stupid.”

  “Then I guess you and I can’t be friends anymore. I came back from Vietnam stupid. I know it. The whole town knows it. But you can’t forgive that.”

  “No. You aren’t stupid. And you are completely kind. There’s nothing to forgive. That’s ridiculous.” All this was making her head spin, confusing her.

  “Kindness and doing good can’t buy forgiveness. You can’t earn it. Gabe’s done a lot of good things. Forgiveness is something you have to give away. It’s a pity you can’t earn it or Gabe would have. That’s one sorry, miserable man.”

  “I don’t know if I could ever believe anything he says again.” But was that true? Or was it just something people thought they ought to say when trust was broken?

  “Then I guess it’s best that you don’t forgive him. Best to find a guy you know will never be stupid.”

  She almost said she didn’t want another guy, that she would be alone forever. But that was another thing that people said when they got their hearts broken. She had never thought she had to have a man, but she didn’t want to be alone forever; she wanted companionship and children.

  And suddenly she saw herself with a faceless man who would never measure up, who she would likely make miserable. Worse, she would be keeping that man from a woman who would have loved him the way Neyland loved Gabe. That faceless man could give her children, but they likely wouldn’t have blond curls and an angel’s blue eyes.

  And those were not the children she wanted. She wasn’t sure if she was talking to Jimpson or herself when she spoke next.

  “What if he said he loved me only because he got caught?”

  Jimpson shrugged. “I don’t think it matters much why he said it, as long as it’s true. Is it?”

  “I have to go.” And she started to run.

  But where was he? She pushed, shoved, and elbowed her way through the crowd. If she knew him, he’d be at the buffet table. But no. Not there. Not hanging around the podium with her father. Not anywhere.

  “Are you looking for Gabe?” came a voice behind her.

  “Oh, Emory. Yes. I have something I need to tell him.”

  “Is it good news for him?”

  “Yes. At least I hope so.”

  “He said he was leaving. But I saw him going toward the cemetery. You need to hurry. Come with me.”

  Emory led her behind the gazebo to the food-staging tent. “Here.” Emory reached in her pocket and pulled out a key. “Take the golf cart.”

  “I’ve never driven a golf cart.”

  “Then figure it out! Now go.”

  And she did. She figured it out and drove hell for leather, her heart pounding out of her chest—until she got close enough to see him in the distance. She parked the cart and walked the rest of the way.

  He stood, head bowed, at the foot of Camille’s grave. Neyland quietly stole up behind him.

  “… so that’s it. That’s what I did. I’ve come to say goodbye. I won’t be back for a while. I don’t think I can be in the same town with her and stay away from her. And staying away from her is all I’ve got left to give. But if you’ve got any influence up there, see what you can do about making sure she gets to be happy. If there’s only so much happy to go around, she can have mine. I don’t need it. And one more thing, Camille.” He reached into his pocket. “I brought you something.” But then, he seemed to sense he wasn’t alone, and he turned to look at Neyland.

&nb
sp; He looked wary. “Hey, sassy britches. What’s up?”

  “What if I need for you to have your happy? What if I can’t be happy if you’re not?” Neyland put a hand on his shoulder.

  He shrugged and Neyland reveled in the warm movement against her hand.

  “Sorry about what happened back there.” He gestured to the grove with his head. “I just started talking and it happened.”

  “That’s usually the way of it with you. I guess I’ve figured something out. You’re always going to let your good intentions get ahead of your good sense, and it isn’t always going to turn out well. And it’s going to make me mad sometimes. But I’m going to have to be all right with that.”

  “I don’t understand. Are you saying … ?” His voice trailed off.

  “I’m saying I love you, baby. I don’t want to be without you. And we’re just going to have to figure this out.”

  “So you’re saying it doesn’t matter what I did?”

  “No. I’m saying I’ve let it go. Noel is right. I also had a talk with Jimpson.”

  Gabe closed his eyes and dropped his head, as if in prayer. He stayed that way for so long that Neyland had began to think he was never going to look at her again. But when he did, he was smiling.

  “Then all hail Noel and Jimpson.”

  “Did you have it in mind to kiss me? Because it’s been a while.”

  He cocked his head to the side and bit his lip. “I might. I will in a minute. I ought to now and not say another word. That’s what my head tells me.”

  Oh, damn. What now?

  “My head is saying, ‘Don’t ruin this, you idiot. She’s come back to you. Give it some time. Don’t ask for anything else.’”

  “You aren’t going to listen to your head, are you?”

  “Not this time. I’m trying to reform. Maybe later. Here’s the thing, Neyland. I’ve learned what it’s like to be without you, and I don’t want that. I don’t want to wait and see how things go. I know I’ll never lie to you or deceive you again, unless it’s about a Christmas present or something. And I think you know that, too, or you wouldn’t be standing here. So I see no point in waiting to make you promises. Can you make promises to me?”

  “I’ve already made them in my heart. I don’t see what it would hurt to give voice to them.”

  He looked at the sky that, on this clear April day, was the exactly color of his eyes. “It’s funny. But all I’ve been able to think about is that with all the jewelry I’ve bought, I couldn’t buy the one piece I want to buy—an engagement ring for you. I’ve been thinking that if I only had the chance, I’d buy you the biggest, most expensive ring ever made. I’d hire a man with a wheelbarrow to follow you around and help you carry it.”

  Neyland laughed. “That might be carrying things a little too far.” But her heart leapt, and she began to design a ring in her head. Maybe they’d plan it together and she could make it.

  He reached into his pocket and brought out a little velvet bag. “And then I told Jackson everything—not only what I did to you, but about Camille and why I couldn’t catch a ball, and what you did to try to help me. We cried some and he told me some things. And then he gave me this.”

  He opened the bag and shook out a ring into his hand. It was a lovely old piece, a perfect blend of strong and delicate. The gold band was rich with time and patina and set with small pearls and opals. Gabe moved it this way and that, seemingly fascinated by the way the sun picked up the fiery colors of the opals.

  “I didn’t know about this ring. Or if I did, I don’t remember. It isn’t worth much, but it’s been in the family for a long time. It goes to the oldest girl of each generation. Aunt Amelia wore it as a girl, but put it in the safe a long time ago for Camille. Jackson said I had carried the burden of Camille for so long that I had learned to love her more than any of the rest of them ever could and that I ought to have her ring to save for my daughter. I tried to tell him he should save it for his daughter because I knew that if I couldn’t have them with you, I’d never have children. But you know how Jackson is. He won’t listen. So I brought it here today. I was going to leave it on Camille’s grave. You know. Just let the weather and time make it sink into the dirt. But then you showed up.”

  “I did. And I’m here to stay.” And now he was going to save the ring for the little girl he would give her.

  He held up the ring. “I know it isn’t worth much. It certainly won’t require a man and a wheelbarrow to carry around. I can buy you a ring for every finger—anything you want. And I will. But I’d like us to make our promises with this ring, if that’s okay with you.”

  She hadn’t seen that coming. Neyland began to cry because this ring was so much better than any ring she could design, any ring made by any artisan from any generation. Because she could stand it no more, threw herself into his arms.

  “The only part that isn’t okay with me is those other rings you’re talking about buying me. That ring is the only ring I want—the only one I’ll ever wear until the day I die.”

  He pulled back and his happy eyes met hers. “Really? Even loving jewelry like you do?”

  “I didn’t say a necklace or a bracelet here and there would be amiss.”

  And, finally, he kissed her. Thoroughly.

  Epilogue

  It was hot, scorching, blinding, mind-killing hot—as it always was in August in Tennessee. Yet, Neyland sat in the stands at LP Field in Nashville waiting for kickoff of the first Titans’ preseason game. She wore khaki shorts and a Tennessee Titans jersey with 16 on the front and Beauford across the back.

  The necklace she wore was not the string of pearls, the huge diamond pendant, or the emerald choker Gabe had bought her in the last few months, but one of her own design, if not handmade by her. It had been thrilling to go into an upscale Nashville gift shop and anonymously choose charms for her chatelaine necklace. Today the charms were a football, a 16, a Titans logo, a helmet, a G, and an N.

  She would not be teaching English in September.

  The last months had been sweet, if not always smooth sailing. Though he’d been seeing a sports psychologist, Gabe had been undecided until almost time for training camp about what to do about his career. In the end, he’d told Quent to approach the Titans, and here he was.

  As for Neyland’s career, the chatelaines were doing well, and Razzle Dazzle wanted more charms and some bracelet and ring designs. Without explanation, she’d quietly put Annabelle and the other girls back in the case at Piece by Piece where she was still working. She’d had a bad moment the day that a man came in, looked at the pieces, and bought Victoria. It had felt too much like the faux sales.

  But in the end, she had chosen to trust that Gabe had kept his word—just like she trusted that eventually, her other girls would find women who would take pleasure in wearing them.

  And at long last, she had a commission. When she’d tried to refuse, Noel had gotten stern with her.

  “I’ve told you business is business. And why wouldn’t I want the best wedding band possible for Nickolai? Are you really going to make me go to the mall and buy one?” It wouldn’t have stones, but it would be an intricate, unique design that challenged her—not to mention a labor of love.

  “Sister,” the voice beside her said. “You missed the coin toss and kickoff. But our boy’s on the field. Do you want to pay attention now?”

  The answer to that was yes and no. Neyland’s stomach knotted, and she slipped her hand into her father’s.

  The ball was snapped. The quarterback was out of the pocket and the ball was sailing, sailing, and sailing.

  Gabe scrambled, jumped, and the ball was in hands.

  The weight lifted from Neyland’s chest as he began to run. She closed her eyes. Later, she’d find out how far he got. But right now, all that mattered was that he had caught the ball, and Camille’s ring on Neyland’s left hand was putting on a little fireworks show to celebrate.

  About the Author

  Alicia Hunte
r Pace is the psuedonym for the writing team, Jean Hovey and Stephanie Jones. They live in North Alabama and share a love of old houses, football, and writing stories with a happily ever after.

  Find Alicia Hunter Pace at:

  Their website www.aliciahunterpace.com

  On Facebook at www.facebook.com/pages/Alicia-Hunter-Pace/176839952372867

  On Twitter @AliciaHPace

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  More from This Author

  (From Nickolai’s Noel by Alicia Hunter Pace)

  Piece By Piece might be on its way to becoming the Hard Rock Cafe of quilt shops. Not even noon, and two celebrities had already walked through the door of Noel Verden’s little patchwork emporium.

  First came country music superstar Jack Beauford—who maybe shouldn’t have been such a surprise since his ancestral home, Beauford Bend Plantation, was located nearby. He’d come with Noel’s friend, Emory Lowell, to bring a quilt that Noel needed to make a pattern from.

  But if Jack Beauford’s appearance had surprised Noel, seeing Nickolai Glazov, who played center for the Nashville Sound, walk into her shop had practically sent her into outer space. True, a hockey player—even one of Nickolai’s caliber—wasn’t as recognizable to the world at large as Jack Beauford, but Noel wasn’t the world at large.

  She loved hockey—and the Sound in particular—the way other Southern women loved football. Much as hockey had been late in coming to the South, Noel had been late in becoming a fan, and there was still a lot she didn’t understand about the game. But, merciful heavens, she loved the chaos, the fast pace, the noise, and—if she were going to be honest—the fights. Noel knew these were odd things for a quiet, mild-mannered woman to love, especially one who spent her days patiently fitting pieces of fabric together with perfect precision and the tiniest of stitches to paint a picture meant to last several lifetimes.

  People who ought to know said Noel was an artist of the finest degree, but they might revise their definition of artist if they ever saw Nickolai Glazov on ice.

 

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