to Italy, which was the best present of all.”
“You’re welcome.” He cupped her face in his hands and searched her eyes for a moment before pressing their lips together.
What started as a shy, closed mouth kiss quickly escalated until feverish, needy hands pulled and grasped at one another. Julia stood on tiptoes, pressing against his naked chest. Gabriel groaned with frustration and gently pushed himself back. He moved his glasses so he could rub his eyes.
“I’d rather continue what we were just doing, but Richard wants us to go to church.”
“Good.”
Gabriel replaced his glasses. “Wouldn’t a nice Catholic girl like you prefer to go to Mass?”
“It’s the same God. I’ve gone to church with your family before.” Julia searched his expression. “Don’t you want to go?”
“Church is not the place for me.”
“Why not?”
“I haven’t gone in years. They’ll…judge me.”
She looked up at him in earnest. “We’re all sinners. If only non-sinners went to church, the churches would be empty. And I doubt very much that the people in Richard’s church will judge you. Episcopalians are very welcoming.”
She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and disappeared into the bedroom to lay out her clothes. He followed her into the bedroom and collapsed on the bed, watching her rifle through the hangers in the closet.
“Why do you still believe in God? Aren’t you angry with him for all of the things that happened to you?”
Julia paused what she was doing in order to regard him. He looked very unhappy.
“Bad things happen to everyone. Why should my life be any different?”
“Because you’re good.”
She looked at her hands. “The universe isn’t based on magic—there isn’t one set of circumstances for the good and one for the evil. Everyone suffers sometime. The question is what you do with your suffering, right?”
He gazed at her impassively.
She continued. “Maybe the world would be a lot worse if God didn’t exist.”
He cursed softly, but didn’t argue.
She sat next to him on the bed. “Did you ever read The Brothers Karamazov?”
“It’s one of my favorites.”
“Then you know the conversation between Alyosha, the priest, and his brother Ivan.”
Gabriel snickered, but not unkindly. “I suppose I’m the rebellious free thinker, and you’re the religious boy?”
Julia ignored him. “Ivan gives Alyosha a list of reasons why either God doesn’t exist or if he exists, that he’s a monster. It’s a very powerful discussion, and I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it.
“But remember how Ivan ends his discussion. He says he rejects God’s creation, this world, and yet, there’s one aspect of the world that he finds surprisingly beautiful—the sticky little leaves he sees on the trees in the spring. He loves them even though he hates the world around them.
“The sticky little leaves aren’t faith or salvation. They’re the remnant of hope. They stave off his despair, demonstrating that despite the evil he has seen, there is at least one good and beautiful thing left.”
She moved so she could see Gabriel’s expression more clearly, and very tenderly, she placed a hand on either side of his face. “Gabriel, what are your sticky little leaves?”
Her question took him entirely by surprise. So much so he simply sat there, staring at the pretty brunette in front of him. It was in moments like this that he remembered why he’d initially thought she was an angel. She had a compassion about her that was rare in human beings. At least, in his experience.
“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it before.”
“Mine was Grace. And you.” She smiled at him shyly. “And even before that, there were the Salvation Army workers back in St. Louis who were kind to me when my mother wasn’t. They gave me a reason to believe.”
“But what about the suffering of the innocent? Of children?” Gabriel’s voice was barely above a whisper. “What about the babies?”
“I don’t know why babies die. I wish they didn’t.” Julia wore a grave expression.
“But what’s wrong with the rest of us, Gabriel? Why do we allow people to abuse their children? Why don’t we defend the sick and the weak? Why do we let soldiers round up our neighbors and make them wear a star on their clothing and cram them into boxcars? It isn’t God who’s evil—it’s us.
“Everyone wants to know where evil comes from and why the world is riddled with it. Why doesn’t anyone ask where goodness comes from? Human beings have a tremendous capacity for cruelty. Why is there any goodness at all? Why are people like