Gabriel's Redemption

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 pieces 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.