Gabriel's Inferno Trilogy by Sylvain Reynard
Then he took off all his clothes and commenced in wild, passionate, scent-transferring (albeit quick) preconference sex.
The Emersons were late departing for All Souls College. On the hurried walk over, Julia told Gabriel the story of Katherine and Old Hut.
He was surprised. He knew Professor Hutton by reputation but had never met him. Apparently, he was a bit of a bastard.
(One might wonder how much of a bastard Hutton had been, given the former nature of the professor making the judgment.)
Gabriel was grateful for Professor Picton’s support and told her so over breakfast inside All Souls, expressing his hope that Christa would forgo the opportunity to make trouble for Julia at her lecture.
“Applesauce,” said Katherine. “Julianne has the situation in hand and we’d all do well to let her see to it.”
Julia smiled bravely, fidgeting with the silver necklace Gabriel had given her back in Selinsgrove.
As they entered St. Anne’s after breakfast, Gabriel wrapped an arm around Julia’s waist, hugging her.
“You look lovely. And you’re going to be fine.”
She glanced down at her navy suit and plain navy pumps. Gabriel had wanted her to wear Prada or Chanel, but she was wary of flaunting their money. She’d rather people focused on her research than her clothes. So she’d purchased a simple jacket and skirt from Ann Taylor, with modestly high-heeled shoes from Nine West. Even so, given the way some of the other conferencegoers dressed (with the exception of Christa Peterson), she felt a bit overdone.
Underneath her clothes, she knew she wore Gabriel’s scent along with the corset he’d bought for her, which bolstered her confidence considerably.
“I’m going to get a coffee. What would you like?” He smiled and released her.
“A bottle of water, please. I’d like to sit down, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. See you in there.”
Julia returned his smile and entered the lecture theater alone.
Gabriel exchanged a few pleasantries with some colleagues before he approached the refreshment table. By the time he’d poured his drink and taken a bottle of water, everyone had exited.
Or so he thought.
“Hello, Professor.”
A sultry voice behind him arrested his attention. Gabriel turned to find Christa hovering nearby like a malevolent ghost.
“What do you want?” His expression grew murderous.
“You wanted to talk yesterday. So—talk.”
Gabriel glanced around the empty room, wondering if their voices would carry into the lecture theater.
Christa stepped closer to him than was appropriate and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. When she opened them, her eyes were hungry.
“You smell like sex.”
“Don’t play games with me. I want the slander to stop.”
“That isn’t going to happen.”
“I’ll sue you.”
Something flitted across her face, but she quickly pulled her features into a relaxed smile.
“For what? Telling the truth?”
“There’s no truth to your character assassinations. You weren’t harassed back in Toronto. And Julia does her own research, as is obvious to anyone with half a brain.”
The sound of laughter echoed from the lecture theater. Gabriel turned in its direction.
Christa lifted her voice to regain his attention.
“You’re forgetting the part where you fucked one of your students and were placed on administrative leave. That’s a story worth telling. Not to mention the fact that Professor Singer had quite a bit to say about you. It’s a pity she didn’t take photographs. I would have liked one.”
She reached up to brush imaginary lint off the lapels of his navy blue suit.
He caught her hand at the wrist and squeezed. Hard.
“You’re playing with fire.”
She leaned even closer, bringing her mouth within inches of his. “Oh, I hope so, Professor.”
With disgust he released her, stepping back and wiping his hands as if they’d been contaminated. With another glance toward the theater, he decided to end their confrontation.
“You keep your mouth shut. Or I’ll make your life a living hell.”
“There’s no reason to be unfriendly. The power to end this is in your hands.” She gestured to his crotch, her lips turning up into an appreciative smile. “Actually, it’s a bit lower.”
He muttered an expletive and began to walk away, but she followed him.
“Come to my hotel and tomorrow, you won’t have to worry about my talented mouth anymore.” She placed her hand on his arm, dropping her voice to a seductive whisper. “I know you. I know what you like and I know what you want. We’ll fuck all night then go our separate ways.”
He pushed her hand away roughly.
“No.”
“Then what happens next is on your conscience.”
Gabriel took a step in her direction. “You stay away from my wife, do you hear me?”
“I’m at the Malmaison. It used to be a prison, which should appeal to you.” She reached up to bring her lips to his ear. “I brought handcuffs.”
Gabriel was too busy pushing her away to realize that she’d dropped something into his suit pocket.
With a smirk, she waved.
“Tonight is your only chance. Come before midnight.”
She turned on her very high heels, swaying seductively as she walked. Then, almost as an afterthought, she paused and looked at him over her shoulder.
“Give my best to your wife.”
Chapter Twelve
A few minutes later, Gabriel scanned the crowd of the lecture theater, looking for Julia. His eyes widened as he took in the scene at the front of the room. Julia was being hugged. By someone large. By someone male.
By someone—handsome.
Gabriel took the stairs two at a time in order to reach the front of the hall. He watched as Julia pulled back from the man, her face happy, her kissable lips curved up into a smile.
The man reluctantly withdrew his arms from her waist before saying something that caused her to laugh.
Gabriel was ready to strangle the man, and then he was going to challenge him to a duel.
As he approached, Julia’s eyes found his. The man turned in the direction of her gaze.
Gabriel stopped short.
“Angelfucker.”
“Pardon?”
Paul Norris squinted at his former dissertation supervisor, not quite sure he’d heard what he thought he’d heard. Certainly, he had his own favored descriptors for the Professor, few of which were complimentary.
Studentfucker, Paul thought.
“This conference keeps getting better and better,” Gabriel muttered, straightening himself to his full height of six feet two inches.
“Professor Emerson.” Paul subconsciously flexed his biceps and broadened his chest.
“Paul.” Gabriel moved to Julia’s side possessively, handing her the bottle of water.
“Shake hands, gentlemen.” She frowned, looking between her friend and her husband.
The men followed her suggestion less than enthusiastically.
“I didn’t know you were coming.” Gabriel looked pointedly at Paul.
“I wasn’t. One of the presenters backed out, so Professor Picton invited me. I’m giving the paper just before Julia’s.”
Julia smiled. “That’s great. Congratulations.”
Paul beamed in return.
“Can I take you to lunch?” He focused solely on Julia.
“I’m afraid she already has plans.”
Julia gave her husband what could only be referred to as the look before nodding at Paul.
“I’d love to go to lunch with you. Thank you.”
Gabriel clutc
hed Julia’s elbow.
“I don’t think that’s appropriate,” he whispered.
“Darling,” she whispered back a warning.
“Hello, Mr. Norris,” Katherine interrupted. She shook Paul’s hand firmly before turning to Gabriel. “Mr. Norris and I are having dinner this evening. I’d like you and Julianne to join us.”
“We’d be delighted.” Gabriel’s voice was strained. “Since we’ll be dining with you this evening, Mr. Norris, I’ll claim my wife for lunch.” He smiled, showing all his gleaming white teeth.
“Darling, can I have a word?” Julia asked. She turned to Katherine and Paul. “We’ll be right back.”
Julia took Gabriel’s hand and led him to a quiet corner of the room.
“I want to have lunch with him.”
“Over my dead body.” Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest.
“He’s an old friend.”
“An old friend who kissed you.”
“That was after you left me. As you may recall, I turned him down.” She crossed her arms, mirroring his posture.
Gabriel scowled. “He wants you.”
“Paul is not someone who would make a pass at a married woman. It’s just lunch. So I’m asking you, please, don’t make a big deal out of this.”
“It is a big deal.”
“I haven’t seen him in a year. I’d like to talk to him and see how he’s doing. Maybe he’s back together with Allison.”
“He’s still in love with you.”
“No, he isn’t.”
Gabriel crowded her, dropping his voice.
“You forget that women who are beautiful, intelligent, and kind are in short supply. A man would do anything to have a woman like you. Including stealing you from your husband.”
Julia squared her shoulders.
“You forget that when a woman finds a good man, a man who loves her and makes her happy, she doesn’t fuck around.”
Gabriel flinched.
He couldn’t help it—his eyes found Christa’s and he watched as she taunted him, looking between himself and Julia smugly.
Gabriel turned back to his wife and uncrossed his arms.
“I’m not happy about this.”
Julia reached up to kiss his cheek. “I can live with that. Thank you.”
Within minutes, Gabriel found himself in the unhappy position of having to watch his wife sit next to the Angelfucker, while he sat on her other side. She and her friend exchanged a few playful words before the session began, and Gabriel resented each and every one of them.
This conference is like a tour through the various levels of Hell, he thought. The only things missing are a respectable Virgil and hordes of people screaming.
It was one thing to suffer the slings and arrows of Miss Peterson. It was quite another to find his wife in the arms of another man. And in the arms of the Angelfucker, of all people.
Gabriel started reciting the prayer of St. Francis in Italian in an effort to calm down.
He knew that he should tell Julia about his confrontation with Christa. But he also knew that it would upset her, potentially ruining her opportunity to appear poised and self-confident in front of the conference attendees. So he kept the distasteful details to himself.
Besides, he had Mr. Norris to worry about.
Paul had been a good and loyal friend to Julia, especially when she’d needed him. But he’d made a play for her, something Gabriel understood but would never forgive.
He wanted to keep Julia as far away from him as possible. But the look on her face when she saw him killed that possibility. She’d had precious little to smile about the day before. Gabriel was not about to kill that look.
He tapped his foot quietly as the first conference speaker began her presentation. He was absolutely oblivious to the distracting noise his handmade Italian shoes were making against the floor until Julia laid a gentle hand on top of his knee.
He took out his Meisterstück 149 and toyed with it, trying in vain to flip it over his fingers in a single motion.
In an effort to distract himself from a paper he swore he’d heard before, he thought back to his very public fight with Julia, when she’d been a student in his seminar. She’d provoked him in front of Paul, Christa, and the rest of the class. He’d been horribly embarrassed and furious. In his rage, he’d even destroyed what had been a very serviceable Ikea chair.
He’d learned a great deal from Julia in the interim, not least of which was the importance of forgiving others and one’s self. But Julia’s pacifist tendencies were too extreme. Without him, or someone like him, she’d been broken and abused.
Gabriel watched her thoughtfully. Perhaps she’d become a pacifist because she’d been abused. Perhaps the bearer of scars was all too aware of the damage that could be done by vicious words and deeds. He pondered that insight for some time, staring at her, until she squirmed.
Julianne was beautiful, with clear skin and large eyes, but she didn’t know it. She didn’t see what others saw, and although she’d made much progress since they’d been together, Gabriel knew that her self-image would always be less than it should be. He knew this and because of it, he was careful to protect her, even from himself.
He certainly wouldn’t let the Angelfucker capitalize on her weaknesses.
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, sh
e 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.”
The Emersons were late departing for All Souls College. On the hurried walk over, Julia told Gabriel the story of Katherine and Old Hut.
He was surprised. He knew Professor Hutton by reputation but had never met him. Apparently, he was a bit of a bastard.
(One might wonder how much of a bastard Hutton had been, given the former nature of the professor making the judgment.)
Gabriel was grateful for Professor Picton’s support and told her so over breakfast inside All Souls, expressing his hope that Christa would forgo the opportunity to make trouble for Julia at her lecture.
“Applesauce,” said Katherine. “Julianne has the situation in hand and we’d all do well to let her see to it.”
Julia smiled bravely, fidgeting with the silver necklace Gabriel had given her back in Selinsgrove.
As they entered St. Anne’s after breakfast, Gabriel wrapped an arm around Julia’s waist, hugging her.
“You look lovely. And you’re going to be fine.”
She glanced down at her navy suit and plain navy pumps. Gabriel had wanted her to wear Prada or Chanel, but she was wary of flaunting their money. She’d rather people focused on her research than her clothes. So she’d purchased a simple jacket and skirt from Ann Taylor, with modestly high-heeled shoes from Nine West. Even so, given the way some of the other conferencegoers dressed (with the exception of Christa Peterson), she felt a bit overdone.
Underneath her clothes, she knew she wore Gabriel’s scent along with the corset he’d bought for her, which bolstered her confidence considerably.
“I’m going to get a coffee. What would you like?” He smiled and released her.
“A bottle of water, please. I’d like to sit down, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. See you in there.”
Julia returned his smile and entered the lecture theater alone.
Gabriel exchanged a few pleasantries with some colleagues before he approached the refreshment table. By the time he’d poured his drink and taken a bottle of water, everyone had exited.
Or so he thought.
“Hello, Professor.”
A sultry voice behind him arrested his attention. Gabriel turned to find Christa hovering nearby like a malevolent ghost.
“What do you want?” His expression grew murderous.
“You wanted to talk yesterday. So—talk.”
Gabriel glanced around the empty room, wondering if their voices would carry into the lecture theater.
Christa stepped closer to him than was appropriate and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. When she opened them, her eyes were hungry.
“You smell like sex.”
“Don’t play games with me. I want the slander to stop.”
“That isn’t going to happen.”
“I’ll sue you.”
Something flitted across her face, but she quickly pulled her features into a relaxed smile.
“For what? Telling the truth?”
“There’s no truth to your character assassinations. You weren’t harassed back in Toronto. And Julia does her own research, as is obvious to anyone with half a brain.”
The sound of laughter echoed from the lecture theater. Gabriel turned in its direction.
Christa lifted her voice to regain his attention.
“You’re forgetting the part where you fucked one of your students and were placed on administrative leave. That’s a story worth telling. Not to mention the fact that Professor Singer had quite a bit to say about you. It’s a pity she didn’t take photographs. I would have liked one.”
She reached up to brush imaginary lint off the lapels of his navy blue suit.
He caught her hand at the wrist and squeezed. Hard.
“You’re playing with fire.”
She leaned even closer, bringing her mouth within inches of his. “Oh, I hope so, Professor.”
With disgust he released her, stepping back and wiping his hands as if they’d been contaminated. With another glance toward the theater, he decided to end their confrontation.
“You keep your mouth shut. Or I’ll make your life a living hell.”
“There’s no reason to be unfriendly. The power to end this is in your hands.” She gestured to his crotch, her lips turning up into an appreciative smile. “Actually, it’s a bit lower.”
He muttered an expletive and began to walk away, but she followed him.
“Come to my hotel and tomorrow, you won’t have to worry about my talented mouth anymore.” She placed her hand on his arm, dropping her voice to a seductive whisper. “I know you. I know what you like and I know what you want. We’ll fuck all night then go our separate ways.”
He pushed her hand away roughly.
“No.”
“Then what happens next is on your conscience.”
Gabriel took a step in her direction. “You stay away from my wife, do you hear me?”
“I’m at the Malmaison. It used to be a prison, which should appeal to you.” She reached up to bring her lips to his ear. “I brought handcuffs.”
Gabriel was too busy pushing her away to realize that she’d dropped something into his suit pocket.
With a smirk, she waved.
“Tonight is your only chance. Come before midnight.”
She turned on her very high heels, swaying seductively as she walked. Then, almost as an afterthought, she paused and looked at him over her shoulder.
“Give my best to your wife.”
Chapter Twelve
A few minutes later, Gabriel scanned the crowd of the lecture theater, looking for Julia. His eyes widened as he took in the scene at the front of the room. Julia was being hugged. By someone large. By someone male.
By someone—handsome.
Gabriel took the stairs two at a time in order to reach the front of the hall. He watched as Julia pulled back from the man, her face happy, her kissable lips curved up into a smile.
The man reluctantly withdrew his arms from her waist before saying something that caused her to laugh.
Gabriel was ready to strangle the man, and then he was going to challenge him to a duel.
As he approached, Julia’s eyes found his. The man turned in the direction of her gaze.
Gabriel stopped short.
“Angelfucker.”
“Pardon?”
Paul Norris squinted at his former dissertation supervisor, not quite sure he’d heard what he thought he’d heard. Certainly, he had his own favored descriptors for the Professor, few of which were complimentary.
Studentfucker, Paul thought.
“This conference keeps getting better and better,” Gabriel muttered, straightening himself to his full height of six feet two inches.
“Professor Emerson.” Paul subconsciously flexed his biceps and broadened his chest.
“Paul.” Gabriel moved to Julia’s side possessively, handing her the bottle of water.
“Shake hands, gentlemen.” She frowned, looking between her friend and her husband.
The men followed her suggestion less than enthusiastically.
“I didn’t know you were coming.” Gabriel looked pointedly at Paul.
“I wasn’t. One of the presenters backed out, so Professor Picton invited me. I’m giving the paper just before Julia’s.”
Julia smiled. “That’s great. Congratulations.”
Paul beamed in return.
“Can I take you to lunch?” He focused solely on Julia.
“I’m afraid she already has plans.”
Julia gave her husband what could only be referred to as the look before nodding at Paul.
“I’d love to go to lunch with you. Thank you.”
Gabriel clutc
“I don’t think that’s appropriate,” he whispered.
“Darling,” she whispered back a warning.
“Hello, Mr. Norris,” Katherine interrupted. She shook Paul’s hand firmly before turning to Gabriel. “Mr. Norris and I are having dinner this evening. I’d like you and Julianne to join us.”
“We’d be delighted.” Gabriel’s voice was strained. “Since we’ll be dining with you this evening, Mr. Norris, I’ll claim my wife for lunch.” He smiled, showing all his gleaming white teeth.
“Darling, can I have a word?” Julia asked. She turned to Katherine and Paul. “We’ll be right back.”
Julia took Gabriel’s hand and led him to a quiet corner of the room.
“I want to have lunch with him.”
“Over my dead body.” Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest.
“He’s an old friend.”
“An old friend who kissed you.”
“That was after you left me. As you may recall, I turned him down.” She crossed her arms, mirroring his posture.
Gabriel scowled. “He wants you.”
“Paul is not someone who would make a pass at a married woman. It’s just lunch. So I’m asking you, please, don’t make a big deal out of this.”
“It is a big deal.”
“I haven’t seen him in a year. I’d like to talk to him and see how he’s doing. Maybe he’s back together with Allison.”
“He’s still in love with you.”
“No, he isn’t.”
Gabriel crowded her, dropping his voice.
“You forget that women who are beautiful, intelligent, and kind are in short supply. A man would do anything to have a woman like you. Including stealing you from your husband.”
Julia squared her shoulders.
“You forget that when a woman finds a good man, a man who loves her and makes her happy, she doesn’t fuck around.”
Gabriel flinched.
He couldn’t help it—his eyes found Christa’s and he watched as she taunted him, looking between himself and Julia smugly.
Gabriel turned back to his wife and uncrossed his arms.
“I’m not happy about this.”
Julia reached up to kiss his cheek. “I can live with that. Thank you.”
Within minutes, Gabriel found himself in the unhappy position of having to watch his wife sit next to the Angelfucker, while he sat on her other side. She and her friend exchanged a few playful words before the session began, and Gabriel resented each and every one of them.
This conference is like a tour through the various levels of Hell, he thought. The only things missing are a respectable Virgil and hordes of people screaming.
It was one thing to suffer the slings and arrows of Miss Peterson. It was quite another to find his wife in the arms of another man. And in the arms of the Angelfucker, of all people.
Gabriel started reciting the prayer of St. Francis in Italian in an effort to calm down.
He knew that he should tell Julia about his confrontation with Christa. But he also knew that it would upset her, potentially ruining her opportunity to appear poised and self-confident in front of the conference attendees. So he kept the distasteful details to himself.
Besides, he had Mr. Norris to worry about.
Paul had been a good and loyal friend to Julia, especially when she’d needed him. But he’d made a play for her, something Gabriel understood but would never forgive.
He wanted to keep Julia as far away from him as possible. But the look on her face when she saw him killed that possibility. She’d had precious little to smile about the day before. Gabriel was not about to kill that look.
He tapped his foot quietly as the first conference speaker began her presentation. He was absolutely oblivious to the distracting noise his handmade Italian shoes were making against the floor until Julia laid a gentle hand on top of his knee.
He took out his Meisterstück 149 and toyed with it, trying in vain to flip it over his fingers in a single motion.
In an effort to distract himself from a paper he swore he’d heard before, he thought back to his very public fight with Julia, when she’d been a student in his seminar. She’d provoked him in front of Paul, Christa, and the rest of the class. He’d been horribly embarrassed and furious. In his rage, he’d even destroyed what had been a very serviceable Ikea chair.
He’d learned a great deal from Julia in the interim, not least of which was the importance of forgiving others and one’s self. But Julia’s pacifist tendencies were too extreme. Without him, or someone like him, she’d been broken and abused.
Gabriel watched her thoughtfully. Perhaps she’d become a pacifist because she’d been abused. Perhaps the bearer of scars was all too aware of the damage that could be done by vicious words and deeds. He pondered that insight for some time, staring at her, until she squirmed.
Julianne was beautiful, with clear skin and large eyes, but she didn’t know it. She didn’t see what others saw, and although she’d made much progress since they’d been together, Gabriel knew that her self-image would always be less than it should be. He knew this and because of it, he was careful to protect her, even from himself.
He certainly wouldn’t let the Angelfucker capitalize on her weaknesses.
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, sh
“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.”