Gabriel’s Inferno Trilogy by Sylvain Reynard Page 0,394

platinum band.

Julia and Rachel exchanged a look and shook their heads.

Gabriel regarded the way that Julia’s countenance fell and quickly abandoned his salad (which was laden pretentiously with both fruit and nuts), and hastily embraced her.

“Trust me,” he whispered, so quietly that no one else could hear.

She murmured her acquiescence, and he squeezed her tightly before kissing her.

“Get a room.” Aaron snickered.

“Oh, we have one.” Gabriel glanced at him sideways.

“We have two, actually.” Julia sighed in resignation.

When they sat down for dinner, Richard asked everyone to hold hands while he said the blessing. He thanked God for his family, for Tammy, Quinn, and Julia, for his new son-in-law, and for the friendship of the Mitchells. He thanked God for his wife and her memory and he pointed out that the seeds she had planted with her children, her husband, and her friends had come to fruition. And when he said “Amen,” everyone wiped at their eyes and smiled, more thankful than they could say that the family was together and strong once again.

Chapter 52

After dinner, Tammy and Scott cleaned up while Rachel and Aaron practiced their parenting skills with Quinn. On the back porch, Richard and Tom smoked cigars and drank Scotch, while watching old Mr. Bancroft carry things from the garage into the woods. Richard gave Tom a knowing look, and the two men clinked glasses.

Inside the house, Gabriel took Julia’s hand and led her upstairs. “Wear something warm,” he said as they walked into her room. “I want to take you for a walk.”

“It isn’t that cold out,” she remarked, as she pulled on one of Gabriel’s old cashmere cardigans.

He’d divested his wardrobe of cardigans after Julia informed him that they made him look like a grandfather.

(Or a PBS host.)

Upon hearing that, Gabriel was only too glad to donate his cardigans to the Salvation Army, with the exception of one or two that Julia rescued.

“I don’t want you to catch cold,” he protested, tugging playfully on her sweater.

“I have you to warm me,” she countered, winking at him.

After winding her Magdalen College scarf around her neck, Gabriel escorted her downstairs, through the kitchen and outside.

“Going for a walk, Emerson?” Tom’s voice surprised them.

“With your permission, Mr. Mitchell.”

Tom patted the Swiss Army knife in his coat pocket. “If you make her cry, I’ll gut you like a fish.”

“I’ll take good care of her, I promise. And if I make her cry, I’ll dry her tears.”

Tom snorted and muttered something under his breath.

Julia gazed between Gabriel and Tom quizzically. “What’s going on?”

“Gabriel is taking you for a walk, with my blessing.” Her father spoke with only the slightest of scowls.

“And mine,” interjected Richard, his gray eyes alive with amusement.

“You two need to lay off the Scotch.” Julia shook her head at the men as Gabriel pulled her into the dense, thick trees.

“What was that all about?” she asked as they trudged hand in hand toward the remains of the old orchard.

“You’ll see.” Gabriel kissed the top of her head before quickening their pace. He grinned as he inhaled her scent. “You smell like vanilla.”

“I got sick of lavender.”

“So did I.”

Within minutes they were at the edge of the orchard. Despite the fact that the trees were very thick, Julia saw light streaming through the branches.

“What’s going on?”

“Come and find out.” He led her through the trees.

There were small white lights decorating some of the branches of the trees overhead and lanterns scattered on the ground containing flameless flickering candles. Amidst the gentle light, which cast a warm glow over the stark, bare trees and the old grass, there stood a white tent. Inside, a bench was spread with a familiar looking blanket and decorated with cushions.

“Oh, Gabriel,” she whispered.

He walked with her to the tent, encouraging her to sit down.

“You didn’t have to go to so much trouble. I would have been happy with this old blanket and the ground. That’s what we used before.”

“I like spoiling you.” His eyes caught hers, and she lost her breath as a simmering intensity shone from their blue depths. “Would you like a drink?”

He withdrew, walking over to a low table on which rested a champagne bucket and two champagne flutes. She nodded and watched as he expertly opened the champagne bottle and poured two glasses. He returned to her side. “Shall we toast?”

“Of course.” She glanced at the alcohol in his hand. “We could drink something else.”

“Just a sip for me. To Julianne, my beloved.” He raised his glass.

“I think we should