Page 43 of I Dreamt That You Loved Me

“I used to be a choirboy,” Gabriel offered. “But I’m a lapsed Catholic now. I don’t believe in organized religion or all the guilt the Catholic church heaps on you?—”

I elbowed him in the ribs and gave him the side-eye.That’s what you say to a priest?

Gabriel held up his hand. “No offense, Father.”

Father Francis looked as if he was fighting back a smile. “None taken,” he said. “So what brings you here today?”

“We’re actually looking for someone.” I pulled Chuck’s photo out of my pocket and handed it to Father Francis. “He’s homeless and we’re worried about him being out in this cold weather,” I explained. “We were hoping you might have seen him?”

The priest only looked at the photo for two seconds before handing it back. “Another one who doesn’t believe in organized religion,” he said with a smile. “And yet, he shows up almost daily. Charles and I have had some very lively discussions over the years. You’ll be happy to know that your friend is safe and warm. He’s been sleeping on a cot in the basement.” Father Francis stood so we did too. “You might even find him sitting in one of the pews.”

I released a breath of relief. Why did I always expect bad news? “Thank you so much.”

“Thank you, Father,” Gabriel said, shaking the priest’s hand. On our way out the door, Gabriel asked, “By the way, does this church have an organ?”

“As a matter of fact, we do.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I don’t knowhow he did it but Gabriel, the non-believer, charmed Father Francis into letting him play the organ.

I sat in the front pew next to a Catholic priest while Angel Gabriel transported us to the heavens above. Joking.

Only Gabriel would play “Light My Fire” on a Catholic church organ in front of a priest. A song that had gotten The Doors banned fromThe Ed Sullivan Show. Not that I believed in censorship, but come on, a time and a place.

Thankfully, he was a cool priest, and Gabrielhadplayed it beautifully, but I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

On our way out, Father Francis encouraged us to come back again. Gabriel said he was probably a Jim Morrison fan. “Nowthere’sa priest who appreciates a poetic rebel.”

I got the feeling that he was just being polite.

Ten minutes later, I found myself sitting across from Gabriel at the Kiev. He was still jazzed up from his organ playing, and I was so cold and hungry that I’d barely put up a fight.

And okay, I loved being with him. As friends, though. Just friends, nothing more. Surely, there was no harm in that.

He looked especially cute today in a black hoodie with his hair all messy and a crooked smile that was just for me.

“Good news about Chuck,” he said after we’d ordered enough food to feed a small army. “He told me how he met you. He said you would have made a hell of a revolutionary.”

I shrugged. “I just did what anyone would do.”

Gabriel laughed under his breath. “You can’t be serious. Most people would have turned a blind eye. You were, what, seventeen, and you were right there in the middle of the riots, in the middle of those cops on horseback, fighting for the rights of a homeless man? That’s not somethinganyonewould do.”

“I just got caught up in it all and when I saw that cop bash Chuck over the head, I got so angry,” I said. “He wasn’t even doing anything, Gabriel. He had this big gash on his head with blood dripping down his forehead. He didn’t deserve that treatment.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what, if there’s ever a Zombie Apocalypse, I want Cleo Babington fighting by my side. Hell, you’ll be leading the whole ragtag brigade.”

I smiled. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. We won’t survive on the food in my cupboards, that’s for sure. I ate a can of pineapple chunks for breakfast and finished off the jar of peanut butter and my last can of soup during the storm of the century. Now all I have is a jar of maraschino cherries, a bag of marshmallows, and a can of olives.”

“I have a box of cereal, a can of refried beans, and two tins of sardines that have been in my cupboard since the Reagan administration,” he said. “They came with the apartment. So did the roaches.”

“What glamorous lives we lead.”

“Like two Russian revolutionaries.”

“It’s been a long, cruel winter.” I sighed dramatically, my hand going to my heart. I’d meant it as a joke, but Gabriel nodded somberly.

“The longest and the cruelest,” he said, his eyes meeting mine and conveying the message that we weren’t talking about the weather.