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 f**k!” Simon exclaimed, collapsing on top of her.
“Holy f**k 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 windowsill, leaning against the glass. It looked as if it belonged there.
“Your dad was talking about using your room as the guest room, once the baby comes.”
“It isn’t really my room. I grew up in Dad’s old house.”
“You’re my daughter. You’ll always have a room in my house.” A gruff voice sounded behind them.
Diane and Julia turned to see Tom standing in the doorway.
“That’s nice, Dad, but you don’t have to save a room for me.”
“It’s your room.” His tone and expression brooked no argument.
Julia merely sighed and nodded.
She gestured to the walls, which were white. “Have you picked out colors?”
Diane smiled. “Pale blue and red. I was thinking about having a sailboat theme. Maybe painting a mural of a boat on the wall. I thought it would be soothing.”
“That sounds beautiful. I’ll look for some bedding and things with sailboats on them.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll make sure my little brother has everything he needs. I’m looking forward to spoiling him.”
Tom’s eyes watered. But he would never admit it.
“So you’re going to decorate?” he asked his fiancée.
“I think we should do a few things. Maybe not everything. After the honeymoon we could paint the walls.” Diane looked up into his face, her eyes cautiously hopeful.
“Whatever you want.” Tom leaned over to kiss her, pressing his palm lightly over where their child was growing.
Julia moved to the door, wanting to give them some privacy. “I’ll just go downstairs and see what Gabriel and Uncle Jack are doing.”