Page 69 of Things We Do for Love and Science
He labored side by side with Liam, taciturn and fully aware that the older man worried about him. But Gabriel was unable to address his emotions just yet.
Liam cleared his throat and put down the chisel. He wiped his dusty hands on his trousers and placed a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Gabe, you’re going to have to talk about what happened with that girl sometime. You’re the closest thing Mary and I have to a son, and we do worry.”
Gabriel pushed his hands into his pockets and faced Liam. “I’m sorry for having been such bad company recently, and you’re right. I shouldn’t bottle up my feelings. It’s just...”
He turned his head to the side hoping Liam wouldn’t notice the pain in his eyes. That was why he hadn’t talked; it was too damn hard to hold it together. He swallowed and struggled to compose himself while Liam waited patiently.
“I...know you predicted it but I,” Gabriel took a deep breath before continuing, “well, I fell in love with Delia, and I was so sure she felt the same way that it felled me when she insisted nothing had changed. She only wants to be friends.”
Liam remained silent but drew him into a hug.
“I’ll get over her, eventually,” Gabriel said, without really believing it. “Work will help.”
Liam gave a dry chuckle and released him. “It sure will. And there’s enough of it.”
Both he and Liam took up their tools and continued hammering channels for the new wiring into the plaster. With his zeal to get the job done, Gabriel had to remember that Liam was in his late sixties and needed a break every so often. It was the middle of winter, and most days they finished around five before it got pitch black outside.
Gabriel brushed the dust off his clothes, said goodbye to Liam, then made his way to the gatehouse. Renoir darted out from behind a rosebush and followed him down the darkening road. He stopped to pet the wolfhound. “You miss her too, don’t you?”
Renoir looked up with amber eyes and made a sound that could roughly be interpreted as a mournful wail.
“No use, my friend, she won’t come by anymore.”
Night bled into morning again and again. Each day was drained of joy but filled with purpose. The restoration of his ancestral home took all his strength, but in return, it gave him a place in the world. Liam and he had made great progress. The manor house was now ready for rewiring and the electricians had come in to start their work.
Gabriel inhaled the crisp cold air and took a few steps back to surveil his work. He’d been painting the tea pavilion into the evening but now it was getting dark. The building shimmered pale blue in the failing light. Romantic, that’s what Delia had called it. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from dwelling on the memory. His bones were weary. He washed his paintbrush in a jar filled with white spirits, closed the tin of paint and went home.
At a forceful knock on wood, Renoir barked, lifted himself off his bed and raced to the door. For a mere moment, Gabriel’s heart soared. Delia had finally changed her mind and...
He rose and chased the childish hope from his mind. With a sigh, he followed his dog, and took him by the collar before opening the door. Disappointment dulled his senses when he came face to face with a familiar woman but not the one he’d been hoping to see.
“Hi, Gabriel.”
Vanessa stood there in the cold and seemed uncertain whether she was welcome to enter the house she’d once lived in. He hadn’t seen her in over two years, and to say he was surprised was an understatement.
She twisted a strand of her blonde hair between her fingers. “I know it’s a bit unexpected for me to appear out of the blue, but I wanted to congratulate you.” She pushed the lock of hair behind her ear.
“It’s, ah, good to see you.” He took a step back and motioned for her to come in before releasing Renoir.
The dog preceded them to the living room and settled on the rug in front of the fireplace. Gabriel seated himself in the armchair opposite his former fiancée who, after all that had happened in recent months, seemed very much like a stranger.
“Can I get you anything?”
“No, thanks.” She straightened in her chair. “Gabriel, let me be honest. I’m not here to congratulate you. I came to find out whether the rumors are true.”
“I’m not married, if that’s what you mean, but I’d appreciate if you kept it to yourself.” His head started pounding, and he massaged his temples in a vain attempt to ease the ache.
“Why?” she asked. “I don’t understand.”
“It’s a long story.” Pain churned through his insides. The wound was too fresh, and talking about it amounted to torture.
“I have time,” she said, her voice soft and placating.
He gazed into the fire and collected himself before telling her of his convoluted love affair with Delia that had proven to be entirely one-sided.
“And you’re still heart broken.” Vanessa’s eyes brimmed with compassion.
He swallowed to alleviate the dryness in his throat. “Pretty much.”
