Gabriel's Inferno (Gabriel's Inferno #1)(31)

He smiled sheepishly. He really wanted to key  her — to know that she could drop by at any time. To see her things on his shelf…to study and to work next to her.

But Julia didn’t want to be keyed.

“Please.” He took her pale hand in his and gently opened her fingers.

He felt her hesitate, and so he ran his thumb across the back of her hand just to reassure her. He pressed the key and the paper into her palm and closed her fingers, taking great care not to press too hard lest he bruise her.

He knew that Emerson had bruised her enough.

“Real isn’t what you are; it’s something that happens. And right now, you need something good to happen to you.”

Julia started at his words, for he had no idea how true they were.

Is he paraphrasing from…? Impossible.

She looked up into his eyes. They were warm and friendly. She didn’t see anything calculating or crude. She didn’t see anything underhanded or harsh. Maybe he truly liked her. Or maybe he simply felt sorry for her.

Whatever his mysterious motivations, in that instant Julia chose to believe that the universe was not entirely dark and disappointing and that there were still vestiges of goodness and virtue, and so she accepted the key with a bowed head.

“Don’t cry, little Rabbit.”

Paul reached out to stroke away a tear that had not yet fallen. But he thought better of it and placed his hand at his side.

Julia turned away, ashamed of the sudden and intense rush of emotions she was having, over being keyed  of al things, and having him cite beloved children’s literature to her. As she frantically looked for something, anything, to distract herself, her eyes alighted on a cd that was sitting by its lonesome on one of the bookshelves. She picked it up. Mozart’s Requiem.

“Do you like Mozart?” she asked, turning the jewel case over in her hand.

Paul averted his eyes.

She was surprised. She moved as if to put the cd case back, worried she had embarrassed him by going through his personal effects, but he stopped her.

“It’s all right, you can look at it. But it’s not mine. It’s Emerson’s.”

Once again, Julia felt cold all over and slightly sick.

Paul saw her reaction this time and started speaking very quickly.

“Don’t tell anyone, but I stole it.”

Her eyebrows lifted.

“I know — it’s terrible. But he was playing one track from the damn thing over and over and over again in his office, while I was cataloging part of his personal library. Lacrimosa, lacrimosa, lacri-f*ckin’- mosa. I couldn’t take it anymore! It’s so damned depressing. So I stole it from his office and hid it here. Problem solved.”

Julia laughed. She closed her eyes and laughed.

He smiled with relief at her reaction.

“You didn’t do a very good job of hiding it. I found it in what, thirty seconds?” She giggled and tried to hand him the cd.

He cautiously pushed her long hair back behind her shoulders so he could have an unobstructed view of her face. “Why don’t you hide it at your place, instead?”

Instinctively, she stiffened and took a step backward.

Paul watched her head go down and her teeth clamp onto her lower lip. He wondered what he’d done…should he not have touched her? Was she worried that Emerson would find out she had his cd?

“Julia?” His voice was quiet, and he made no move toward her. “I’m sorry. Did I do something wrong?”

“No. It’s nothing.” She glanced at him nervously and placed the cd on the shelf. “I love Mozart’s Requiem,  and Lacrimosa  is my favorite part. I didn’t know he liked it too. I’m just…um…surprised.”

“Borrow it.” He placed it in her hand. “If Emerson asks, I’ll say I have it. But at least if you borrow it you can upload it to your iPod and give it back to me on Monday.”

Julia looked at the cd. “I don’t know…”

“I’ve had it all week, and he hasn’t been looking for it. Maybe his mood has shifted. He started listening to it after he got home from Philadelphia.

Not sure why…”

Julia impulsively slid the cd into her decrepit knapsack. “Thanks.”

He smiled. “Anything for you, Julia.”

He wanted to hold her hand. Or at least to squeeze it for an instant.

But she was skittish, he could see, and so he gave her a wide berth as he led her into the hallway so that he could continue giving her a tour of the library.

“Uh, the Toronto Film Festival is on this weekend. I have a couple of tickets to some films on Saturday. Would you like to join me?” He tried to sound casual as he led her to the elevators.

“What films?”

“One is French and the other is German. I prefer European films.” He smiled half-heartedly. “I could trade the tickets for something more local…”

Julia shook her head. “I like European films too. As long as they’re subtitled. My French is almost non-existent, and I only know how to swear in German.”

Paul pressed the button for the elevator and turning, gave her a very long, very studious look. Then he grinned mischievously. “You can swear in German? How did you come by that?”

“I lived in the International House at Saint Joseph’s. One of the exchange students was from Frankfurt, and she really liked to swear — a lot.