Most of All You: A Love Story(38)

He chuckled and I narrowed my eyes at him. I hadn’t meant to make him smile. “It’s true, some mysteries are better than others.” The amused smile remained on his lips, and it irritated me. I took a sip of my coffee, glaring out at the horizon as if it, too, had done me a personal wrong.

Gabriel sighed. “The truth is, I don’t know. Maybe the dream was mystical. Or maybe it was just telling me what I already knew but didn’t have the courage to admit, or would have rationally talked myself out of somehow in the daylight when everything can be dismissed more easily. Maybe I simply used it as an excuse to come when Kayla called me. Or maybe it was just dumb luck that I even answered my phone. Maybe it wasn’t lucky at all. Maybe this is the worst thing that ever could have happened to you, being here right now, with me. Is that how you feel?”

No. The word came immediately to mind, but I didn’t say it out loud. Instead, I massaged my temples. “How I feel is that all these what-ifs are giving me a headache.”

He chuckled softly again, and I continued to massage my temples. “Yes. The great what-ifs. They give me a headache, too.” He looked pleased, as if we’d both arrived at the correct conclusion together.

When he was still quiet after another moment, I dropped my hands from my head and really looked around. The patio was made of large flagstones, and the overhead pergola was laden with vining white roses. There were large pots of colorful trailing flowers and smaller pots of what looked to be herbs placed in the corners. The furniture was simple and sturdy, featuring the dining table we were sitting at and a casual lounge area to the right. It looked out on a large, grassy backyard, enclosed by a wooden split rail fence. Beyond that, a meadow of wildflowers went to the edge of the woods, over which the sun had now fully risen. “It’s beautiful out here,” I murmured. Maybe the most peaceful place I’d ever been. And I understood now why I’d thought he didn’t belong at the Platinum Pearl. This is where he belonged. Surrounded by open air and beautiful things.

There was a large tree several yards from the patio, and a bird feeder hung in it, swaying gently in the breeze. A bluebird flew into the birdbath on the ground below it and started playing in the water. I watched for a minute as he danced with unabashed joy and shook his tail feathers, chirping gleefully. I laughed at his antics and his obvious pleasure. When I looked at Gabriel, he was watching me with a small, sweet smile on his lips as if his happiness was coming not from watching the bird, but from watching me. I blinked and he looked away, back out to the yard. The bluebird flew away in a shower of water droplets and happy chatter.

Gabriel leaned back again, putting his hands behind his head, his T-shirt stretching slightly so I glimpsed a line of tanned, bare skin above his jeans. When I realized my eyes were lingering on that spot, I flushed and quickly looked back to his face. He was still looking out to the horizon and hadn’t noticed my wayward glance. My shoulders relaxed.

“When I was locked in that basement, there was this small window high up on the wall. It was barred and impossible to get through, and the glass was tinted, but there was this small scratch in the tint, and the window faced east. Every morning this golden light would show up through that tiny scratch, growing brighter and brighter. Just a bare slip of hope—a reminder that even in a place like that, maybe God still saw me. I told myself if I ever got out of there, I’d spend every morning watching the whole sunrise simply because I could.”

My heart lurched as I thought back to what I’d said to him about controlling me. I had been so insensitive and cruel. Someone did that to me once, and I’d never do it to someone else. No. He wouldn’t. I swallowed, something tight and painful moving through my chest. Talk of God made me uncomfortable, slightly itchy, and yet, the look of peace, that steady strength on Gabriel’s face also filled me with a longing I wasn’t sure how to classify. Maybe it was the picture I had in my head of that tiny scratch on the window of his prison and the idea that sometimes that’s all hope is—just a thin sliver of distant light. I cleared my throat. “And you did get out,” I whispered.

He looked over at me and smiled. “Yes, I did.” He took a last sip of coffee and started standing. “Do you want to see my temporary studio, Ellie?”

Ellie.

You’re such a good, smart girl, Ellie.

I shivered, a shimmery feeling of warmth dancing through my veins. He’d called me Ellie when he was caring for me during my fever, too. I hadn’t even remembered I’d told him my real name. I hadn’t thought I ever wanted anyone to call me Ellie again. And yet, I found that my name felt safe on Gabriel’s lips. Safe. I gave him a small smile. “Yes, I’d love to.”

*

The garage was large and mostly empty, the floors painted a dark, speckled gray, the wooden doors standing open, letting in the light.

On the right side there was a long built-in wooden work counter that housed tools and gardening supplies. And set up right next to it was a table holding a large piece of white rock.

I limped toward it, following Gabriel and stopping next to what appeared to be a solid piece of marble. There were small chips all over it, but if it was supposed to be something specific, I couldn’t tell what that might be. “What is it?”

Gabriel laughed. “Nothing yet. What it will be is a cherub. It’s for the outside of a museum being built in France.”

I snapped my eyes to his. “A museum in France? Really? That sounds pretty important.”