He ignored Julia’s question and kept walking, but she noticed that he began to grip her hand more tightly. She tightened her grip on his as well to signal to him that she was not afraid. Even though she was.
“I didn’t want to come home, not like this. I lost something, and I’ve been drunk for weeks.”
Gabriel’s honesty surprised her.
“But if you lost something, maybe you can try to find it.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What I lost is lost forever.”
He began walking more quickly, and Julia had to hasten her strides just to keep up with him.
“I came home for money. That’s how desperate and absolutely fucked I am.” Gabriel’s voice softened, and Julia felt him shudder. “I was fucked up even before I destroyed everything and everyone. Before you ever arrived.”
“I’m so sorry.”
He shrugged and began to drag her to the left. “We’re almost there.”
Through an opening in the trees they entered a small clearing that was carpeted in thick grass. Wildflowers and weeds and old rotting stumps littered the expanse of green. The air was quiet and vibrated with peace. And at the edge of the open area stood several aged apple trees, weary-looking and worn.
“This is it.” He gestured widely. “This is Paradise.”
He pulled Julia to a large rock that stood inexplicably at the edge of the clearing and lifted her by her waist so that she was perched on top of it. Then he climbed to her side. Julia shivered. The rock was cold in the shade of the setting sun and was already sending chills through her thin jeans.
Gabriel shrugged out of his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. “You’ll catch pneumonia and die,” he said absently, placing an arm around her and drawing her close to his side. His body heat radiated from his bare arms and his T-shirt, warming her immediately.
She inhaled deeply and sighed with contentment, marveling at how well she fit under the crook of his arm. As if she’d been made for him.
“You’re Beatrice.”
“Beatrice?”
“Dante’s Beatrice.”
Julia flushed. “I don’t know who that is.”
Gabriel chuckled to himself, his breath warm against her face as he nuzzled her ear with his nose. “Didn’t they tell you? Didn’t they tell you the prodigal son is writing his book on Dante and Beatrice?”
When Julia didn’t answer, he brought his lips to the top of her head and brushed a gentle kiss against her hair. “Dante was a poet. Beatrice was his muse. He met her when she was very young, and he loved her from afar his whole life. Beatrice was his guide through Paradise.”
Julia’s eyes were closed as she listened to his voice, inhaling the scent that clung to his skin. He smelled of musk and sweat and beer, but Julia ignored those distractions and focused on the scent that was Gabriel, something very masculine and potentially dangerous.
“There’s a painting by an artist named Holiday. You look like his Beatrice.” Gabriel reached down and brought her pale fingers to his lips, kissing her skin reverently.
“Your family loves you. You should make up with them.” Julia’s own words surprised her, but he only pulled her in more closely.
“They aren’t my family. Not really. And it’s too late anyway, Beatrice.”
Julia started at the name and realized that the beer had definitely caught up with him. But she didn’t move her head from resting on his shoulder. A short while later he was rubbing his hand up and down her arm, trying to attract her attention.
“You haven’t had your dinner.”
She shook her head. “No, I haven’t.”
“Shall I feed you?”
Though it made her sad to do so, she lifted her head from his shoulder. He smiled at her and walked over to one of the remaining apple trees. He studied the boughs of hanging fruit and chose the largest, ripest red apple before picking a smaller one. He put the smaller one in his pocket as he walked back to her.
“Beatrice.” He smiled and handed her the apple.
Julia stared at it entranced, as if it were a treasure.
Gabriel laughed and moved his hands, extending the fruit in his right palm, the way a child would hold a sugar cube to a pony. Julia took the apple and brought it immediately to her lips, taking a firm bite.
He watched her chew; he watched her swallow. Then in silent satisfaction, he resumed his former position, his arm tight around her waist. He pressed her head gently to his shoulder and began eating the smaller apple that he had hidden in his pocket.
They sat very still as the sun set, and just before the orchard was covered in darkness, Gabriel took the blanket from under Julia’s arm and spread it like a bed on the grass.
“Come, Beatrice.” He held his hand out to her.
Julia knew it would be a very foolish thing to take his hand and to sit with him on the blanket. But she didn’t care. She’d developed a crush on him the first time Rachel had shown his photograph to her, and Julia had stolen it. Now that he was here, real, breathing, alive, in flesh, all she could do was take his hand.
“Have you ever lain next to a boy and looked up at the stars?” He pulled her down to the blanket and watched her as they lay on their backs.