Gabriel’s Inferno Trilogy by Sylvain Reynard Page 0,506

supposed to pick it up when we arrive.”

Julia was quiet for a moment, thinking. Then she spoke.

“Do you think God has forgiven you?”

His brow furrowed. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Because of our conversation in the shower. You seem to think your past hasn’t really been forgiven.”

He shifted next to her.

“When I was in Assisi, after we’d been separated, it felt as if God forgave me.”

“But you still look at yourself and don’t like what you see?” Her tone was gentle.

“Why should I? I have so many faults.”

“So do all human beings, sweetheart.”

“Maybe I’m more conscious of my own sin.”

“Maybe you haven’t accepted the grace and forgiveness you’ve been offered.”

He looked at her sharply.

She moved closer to him.

“I’m not saying this to grieve you. I see how far you’ve come, and it’s nothing short of a miracle. But part of that miracle is recognizing the magnitude of the grace.”

“I did so many terrible things,” he whispered.

“And God’s forgiveness is so small.” Julia glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.

“I don’t think that.”

“But you act like that sometimes—as if you’re still in Hell. As if God couldn’t forgive you.”

“I want to be better.”

“Then be better. Accept the fact that God didn’t bring you this far only to abandon you. He isn’t that kind of father. And you won’t be, either.”

Gabriel pondered her words for a moment.

“If what you say is correct, then you have no reason to fear being a mother. No matter what happened with Sharon or what’s in your past, grace is available to you too. I guess we both need to overcome our fears.”

He caressed her cheek before rolling her beneath him.

“You will be a wonderful mother,” he whispered before bringing their lips together.

Chapter Forty-two

Labor Day Weekend, 2011

The Hamptons, New York

Holy fuck!” Simon exclaimed, collapsing on top of her.

“Holy fuck is right.” She giggled, wrapping her arms around him. “That was amazing.”

Simon couldn’t disagree. He could barely feel his body, his orgasm had been so strong.

Of course, the fact that he and April Hudson were several mojitos past being drunk might have had something to do with it.

In the back of his mind, there was something he was supposed to remember. Something important. Something regarding April.

She climbed on top of him. “Let’s do it again,” she slurred, leaning over him. “It barely hurt. I don’t know why I was waiting . . .”

Chapter Forty-three

Labor Day Weekend, 2011

Selinsgrove, Pennsylvania

Your dad has been using this room as the guest room, but we were thinking of making it the nursery.” Diane opened the door to the small room that was next to the master bedroom.

Julia entered the room behind her, carrying a blue-and-white gift bag.

It was a few days before the wedding and she was helping Diane with things around the house.

“I wanted to paint the walls and have the room ready before the baby came. Now . . .” Diane moved her hand over her abdomen, back and forth.

“I don’t see why you can’t get the nursery ready.” Julia looked around the room, eyeing three familiar-looking boxes on the floor of the closet.

“He might not come home,” Diane whispered, close to tears.

Julia put an arm around her shoulders.

“The hospital and the doctors are familiar with cases like this. And there are a number of children who’ve gone through the surgeries that little Peanut will have to go through.”

“Peanut?”

“Since we don’t have a name for him, I’ve been calling him Peanut.”

Diane pressed her hand over her stomach. “I like that. Peanut.”

“We’re all hoping and praying that Peanut will be okay. Decorating the nursery could be an expression of that hope—that you believe he’s coming home.” Julia fidgeted with the bag she’d been carrying. “I bought you and the baby a present.”

“Thank you. That’s the first gift we’ve received.”

“Since he’s my little brother, I wanted to be the first. Open it.”

Diane carefully pulled back the tissue paper, revealing a rectangular wrapped object. She placed the bag on the floor and unwrapped the gift. Inside, she found a print of a cherub playing a guitar, housed in an ornate gold frame.

She held it up in order to admire it.

“I know that you’ve been hesitant about preparing for the baby.” Julia’s voice was soft. “But I thought that the angel would be an expression of hope. The painting is called Angelo Musicante and it’s housed in the Uffizi Gallery in Florence.”

“Thank you, honey.” Diane hugged her. “That’s very sweet.”

She walked over to the window and placed the frame on the wide