Gabriel’s Inferno Trilogy by Sylvain Reynard Page 0,283

Grace and Richard so kind? Because there’s a God, and he hasn’t allowed the earth to be entirely corrupted. There are sticky little leaves, if you look for them. And when you recognize them, you can feel his presence.”

Gabriel closed his eyes, drinking in her words with her touch, knowing in his heart that she had spoken a very deep, very profound truth.

Try as he might, he could never stop believing; even in his darkest days the light had not gone out. He’d had the guidance of Grace, and providentially, when she died, he met his Beatrice again, and she’d shown him the rest of the way.

He kissed her chastely, and when she left him to shower, he marveled at her quiet brilliance. She was far more intelligent than he, since her intellect was marked with a true creative originality that he only dreamed of having. Despite everything that had happened to her, she had not lost faith or hope or charity.

She is not my equal; she is my better.

She is my sticky little leaf.

* * *

An hour later Julia and Gabriel drove to All Saints Episcopal Church. Gabriel wore a black suit and white shirt, proudly displaying Julia’s cufflinks, while she wore a plum-colored dress that skimmed the bottom of her knees, and tall black boots that he’d purchased for her in Florence.

A sea of awkwardness. That’s how Gabriel would have described the atmosphere as he sat with Julianne at the end of the family pew.

He was grateful for the liturgy, the order, and the way in which Scripture and music were used in the service. He found himself contemplating his life and the steps that led him to the beautiful woman who held his hand throughout the service.

Christmas was a celebration of birth—one birth in particular. All around him he saw babies and children: the manger scene at the front of the church, the banners and stained glass windows, and the glowing skin of the pregnant woman who was seated across the aisle.

In one brief moment, Gabriel realized that he regretted his sterilization, not just for himself and the fact that he was no longer able to father a child, but also for Julianne. He imagined lying in bed with a very pregnant Julia and placing his hand on her stomach in order to feel their child kick. He thought about holding their infant son in his arms, shocked by the array of dark hair on his head.

His imaginings startled him. They marked a shift in character and priority, away from the guilt and selfishness that had marked his life up until the reappearance of his Beatrice. A shift toward the permanence of a commitment to a woman with whom he wanted to create a family, with whom he wanted to create a child. His love for Julianne had changed him in multiple ways. He hadn’t been aware of how dramatic the changes were until he gazed at the pregnant stranger with a kind of wistful envy.

Those were the thoughts that occupied his mind as he held Julianne’s hand until it was time to participate in the Eucharist. He was the only one in the family pew who didn’t stand and file to the center aisle in order to walk to the communion rail.

There was something comforting about church, he thought. Although he found the overall experience, especially the homily, convicting. He had wasted a good deal of his life—years that he could never get back.

He hadn’t told Grace the things he’d wanted to tell her before she died. He hadn’t treated Paulina or Julianne with the dignity that they deserved. He hadn’t treated any of the women with whom he’d been involved with respect.

In thinking of Paulina, Gabriel tore his eyes away from the dark haired woman in the pretty plum dress and hung his head, praying almost unconsciously for forgiveness and also for guidance. He was walking a tightrope, he knew, between taking responsibility for his past indiscretions and eliminating Paulina’s dependence on him. He prayed that she would be able to find someone who would love her and help her put the past behind her.

Gabriel was so deep in prayer that he didn’t notice his family squeeze past him to retake their seats, or Julia’s warm hand snake through the crook at his elbow, pressing herself soothingly to his side. And he didn’t notice the moment in the service, just before the benediction, when his father broke down into silent, shoulder-shaking tears, and Rachel placed