Angelology(178)

nostalgia and romance. She had no idea of what awaited her now.

As Gabriella unlocked the front door, someone pushed the dead bolt aside, turned a great brass

doorknob, and opened the door. A bearish, dark-haired man with a hooded sweatshirt and a two-day

stubble stood before them. Evangeline had never seen the man before. Gabriella, however, appeared

to know him intimately.

“Bruno,” she said, embracing him warmly, an uncharacteristic gesture of intimacy. The man looked

to be around fifty years old. Evangeline looked at the man more closely wondering if, despite the age

difference, Gabriella could have remarried. Gabriella released Bruno. “Thank goodness you’re

here.”

“Of course I’m here,” he said, equally relieved to see her. “The council members have been

waiting for you.”

Turning to Evangeline and Verlaine, who stood together on the stoop, Bruno smiled and gestured

for them to follow him through the entrance hallway. The smell of Gabriella’s home—its books and

gleaming antique furniture—was instantly welcoming, and Evangeline felt her anxiety dissipating

with each step into the house. The overloaded bookcases, the wall of framed portraits of famous

angelologists, the air of seriousness that fell over the rooms like mist—everything in the brownstone

was exactly as Evangeline remembered.

Removing her overcoat, she caught her image in a mirror in the hallway. The person standing

before her startled her. Dark circles ringed her eyes, and her skin had been streaked black by smoke.

She had never seemed so drab, so plain, so out of place as she did now, in the presence of her

grandmother’s highly polished life. Verlaine stepped behind her and put his hand on her shoulder, a

gesture that only yesterday would have filled her with terror and confusion. Now she was sorry when

he took it away.

In the midst of all that had happened, she found it almost inexcusable that her thoughts were drawn

to him. Verlaine stood only inches from her, and as she met his eyes in the mirror, she wanted him to

be closer. She wished she understood his feelings better. She wished he would say something to

assure her that he felt the same shock of pleasure when their eyes met.

Evangeline turned her attention back to her own reflection, realizing as she did how utterly

laughable her dishevelment made her. Verlaine must find her ridiculous with her dour black clothing

and her rubber-soled shoes. The manner of the convent had been etched into her.

“You must be wondering how you got here,” she said, endeavoring to understand his thoughts.

“You fell into all of this by accident.”

“I admit,” he said, flushing, “it’s certainly been a surprising Christmas. But if Gabriella hadn’t

found me, and I hadn’t gotten involved in all of this, I wouldn’t have met you.”

“Perhaps that might have been for the better.”

“Your grandmother told me quite a bit about you. I know that things aren’t all they seem. I know

you went to St. Rose as a precautionary measure.”

“I went for more than that,” Evangeline said, realizing how complicated her motivation for staying

at St. Rose was, and how difficult it would be to explain to him.

“Will you go back?” Verlaine asked, his expression anticipatory, as if her answer mattered a great

deal to him.

Evangeline bit her lip, wishing she could tell him how difficult the question seemed to her. “No,”

she said at last. “Never.”

Verlaine leaned close behind her, taking Evangeline by the hand. Her grandmother, the work before

them, everything dissolved in his presence. Then he pulled her away from the mirror and led her into

the dining room, where the others waited.

There was something cooking in the kitchen—the rich smell of meat and tomatoes filled the room.

Bruno gestured to the table, set with linen napkins and Gabriella’s china. “You’ll need lunch,” Bruno

said.

“I really don’t think there’s time for that,” Gabriella said, looking distracted. “Where are the

others?”

“Sit,” Bruno ordered, gesturing to the chairs. “You have to eat something.” He pulled out a chair

and waited until Gabriella sat. “It will only take a minute.” With that he disappeared into the kitchen.

Evangeline sat in the chair next to Verlaine. Crystal glasses glimmered in the weak light. A carafe

of water sat mid-table, lemon slices floating on its surface. Evangeline poured a glass of water and

gave it to Verlaine, her hand brushing his, sending a shock through her. She met his eye, and it struck

her that she had met him only yesterday. How quickly her time at St. Rose receded, leaving behind the