Gabriel's Rapture

As Gabriel regarded the beggar, no better off than he’d been

before Julia’s generosity, he was struck by the fact that she wouldn’t have hesitated to donate again and again. She would have given the man coins every day, because she thought the act of charity was never wasted. She would have lived in hope that one day the man would

realize that someone cares for him and try to get help. Julia knew her kindness made her vulnerable, but she was kind anyway.

Gabriel placed the bills in the man’s hand and turned sharply on

his heel, the echoes of the beggar’s joy and blessings ringing in his ears.

He wasn’t deserving of a blessing. He hadn’t committed an act of

charity the way Julianne would have done it, out of compassion and kindness. He was simply doing justice to her memory, or purchasing an indulgence.

As tripped over a cobblestone, he realized what he had to do.

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P

The next day he tried to secure the house in Umbria that he’d

shared with her, but it was already occupied. So he traveled to Assisi where he checked into a small, private hotel that was simple in its furnishings and populated with pilgrims.

Gabriel had never styled himself as a pilgrim. He was far too

proud for that. Nevertheless, there was something in the air in Assisi that allowed him to sleep peacefully. In fact, it had been the best sleep he’d had since leaving Julia’s arms.

He rose early the next morning and made his way to the Basilica

of St. Francis. It was a place of pilgrimage for persons of all faiths, if only for its medieval frescoes and the peaceful atmosphere that per-vaded it. It was no little coincidence that he found himself retracing the steps he’d taken with Julianne prior to Christmas. He’d taken

her to Mass in the Basilica superiore or upper part of the church, and had even waited patiently while she went to confession before the

Mass began.

As he wandered through the upper Basilica, admiring the images

and drinking in the comforting quiet of the sanctuary, he caught

a glimpse of a woman with long, brown hair disappear through a

doorway. Intrigued, he decided to follow her. Despite the crowd of tourists and pilgrims, it was easy to pick her out, and so he found himself descending to the Basilica inferiore.

Then she vanished.

Distressed, he searched the lower church. Only when his search

proved fruitless did it occur to him to descend deeper into the bowels of the Basilica toward the tomb of St. Francis. There she was, kneeling in front of the crypt. He slipped into the last row of pews and out of respect, knelt. But he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

It wasn’t Julianne. The young woman in front of him was a

little fuller in the hips and wider in the shoulders and her hair was darker. But she was beautiful, and her beauty reminded him of how

much he’d lost.

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The room was small and primitive, a studied contrast to the wide-

open and elaborately frescoed upper Basilica. Gabriel was not alone in finding that the simplicity that was St. Francis’s life and mission was more accurately reflected in the unassuming tomb. It was with

such thoughts in mind that Gabriel found himself leaning against

the pew in front of him and bowing his head. Before he could form

the intention to do so, he began praying.

At first they were just words — desperate utterances and whis-

pered confessions. As time wore on, his prayers took on a more

repentant shape, while unbeknownst to him, the young woman lit

a candle and departed.

If Gabriel’s life had been a major motion picture, an old, weath-

ered Franciscan brother would have stumbled across him as he knelt in prayer, and seeing his distress, would show him compassion, offering spiritual guidance. But Gabriel’s life was not a motion picture.

So he prayed alone.

If you had asked Gabriel afterward about what occurred in the

tomb, he would have shrugged and evaded the question. Some things

cannot be put into words. Some things defy language itself.

But there was a moment in his prayers in which Gabriel was

confronted with the magnitude of all his failings, both moral and

spiritual, while at the same time feeling the presence of One who

knew the state of his soul and embraced him anyway. He was sud-

denly aware of what the writer Annie Dillard once referred to as the extravagance of grace. He thought of the love and forgiveness that had been lavished on the world and more specifically, on him, through

the lives of Grace and Richard.

And Julianne, my sticky little leaf.

The magnet for sin found something very unexpected underneath

the floors of the upper Basilica. When he left the church, he was

more determined than ever not to return to his old ways.

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For Julia, the rest of April was a vortex of activity. There were

final revisions to be made to her thesis, meetings with Katherine

Picton and Nicole, and Friday nights to be spent with Paul.

Katherine ensured that Julia’s final draft was error free and

something that she could be proud of. Then she telephoned Cecilia

Marinelli in Oxford to ask her to look for Julia at Harvard in the fall.

Paul secured a studio apartment in Cambridge for her to sublet.

She began working through a list of texts Katherine had suggested

she read in preparation for Professor Marinelli’s seminar.

At the end of April, Julia received a very official looking letter from the Office of the Dean of Graduate Studies. Dr. Aras requested her attendance at his office in a week’s time. He assured her that their appointment had nothing to do with a disciplinary matter, and he

stated that Professor Martin would also be in attendance.

With great trepidation, she trudged across campus on a Monday

afternoon, clutching her L.L. Bean knapsack. She took comfort in

it, in the fact that it had been her companion for almost a year. Paul had offered to accompany her, but she’d declined, arguing that she needed to face the Dean alone. Still, he’d hugged her and promised to wait for her at their favorite Starbucks.

“Thank you for coming, Miss Mitchell. How was your semester?”

Julia gazed across the desk at Dean Aras in surprise. “It

was — interesting.”

The Dean nodded, his eyes shifting to meet Professor Martin’s.

“I know this academic year has been challenging for you. I asked to speak with you simply to find out if you have had any other problems since the hearing.”

Sylvain Reynard

Julia looked between the two academics, measuring them. “What

kind of problems?”

“Dean Aras is wondering if Professor Emerson bothered you at

all after the hearing. Did he call or email you? Did he try to meet with you?” Professor Martin appeared friendly, but there was an

undertone to his demeanor that made Julia suspicious.

“Why do you care? You got what you wanted. He left the city.”

The Dean’s expression tightened. “I’m not about to retry the case

with you, Miss Mitchell. This meeting is a courtesy, an attempt to ensure that you have been able to proceed with your education free of interference. We’re trying to determine if Professor Emerson kept his word and left you alone.”

“I received an email from him a few days after the hearing. He told me to stop contacting him and that we were over. That’s what you

want to hear, right?” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her voice.

Professor Martin exchanged a meaningful look with the Dean.

“I’m sure you’re glad to put this matter behind you.”

Julia sat silently, not bothering to answer.

“You’re free to go. Congratulations on a successful year and con-

gratulations on being admitted to Harvard. We’ll see you at gradu-

ation.” The Dean nodded at her dismissively.

She picked up her knapsack and walked to the door. Just as her

hand reached for the doorknob she stopped, turning to face the two professors.

How strange it is, she thought, that these two men, armed only

with massive intellects and closets full of tweed, could wield so much power over her heart and her happiness.

“I don’t regret my relationship with Professor Emerson, even

though it ended badly. Both of you were incredibly dismissive and

patronizing to me throughout this entire process. I understand the importance of protecting someone who needs protection, but the

only people I needed protection from was you.”

Julia gave them a withering look and exited the office.

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Gabriel stayed so long in Assisi, he became a fixture at the Basilica.

Every day he spent a long hour sitting by St. Francis’s crypt,

thinking. Sometimes he prayed. Sometimes God seemed near and

other times he seemed far away. At all times, Gabriel wished he was with Julia, although he began to realize how flawed their relationship had been — how he’d wanted to change his ways to be worthy of her

when really, he should have changed because he was an insufferable ass.

He was enjoying lunch one day at the hotel when a fellow Ameri-

can struck up a conversation with him. The man was a physician from California, who was visiting Assisi with his wife and teenaged son.

“We’re going to Florence tomorrow, and we’ll be there for two

months.”

“Doing what?” Gabriel asked, eying the gray-haired man curiously.

“We’ll be staying with the Franciscans. My wife, who is a nurse,

and I will be working in a medical clinic. My son is going to be

helping the homeless.”

Gabriel frowned. “You’re doing this as volunteers?”

“Yes. We wanted to do this as a family.” The man paused and

looked at Gabriel intently.

“Would you consider coming with us? The Franciscans can always

use more help.”

“No,” said Gabriel, stabbing a piece of beef determinedly. “I’m

not Catholic.”

“Neither are we. We’re Lutherans.”

Gabriel gazed at the doctor with interest. His knowledge of

Lutherans was limited almost exclusively to the writings of Garrison Keillor. (Not that he was willing to admit it.)

Sylvain Reynard

The doctor smiled. “We wanted to lend a hand to a good work.

I wanted to encourage my son to think beyond beach vacations and

video games.”

“Thank you for the invitation, but I must decline.” Gabriel was

firm in his response, and so the doctor changed the subject.

Later that evening, Gabriel stared out the window of his simple

hotel room, thinking as he always did about Julia.

She wouldn’t have said no. She would have gone.

As ever, he was reminded of the divide between her generosity

and his selfishness. A divide that, even after spending so many months with her, was yet to be breached.

P

Two weeks later, Gabriel stood in front of the monument to

Dante in Santa Croce. He’d joined the Lutherans in their trip to

Florence and become one of the Franciscans’ most troublesome vol-

unteers. He served meals to the poor but was horrified by the quality of food on offer, so he wrote a check to hire a caterer to make the meals. He went with the other volunteers as they gave toiletries and clean clothing to homeless people, but he was so troubled by the

lack of cleanliness of the men and women that he wrote a check to

construct washrooms and shower facilities for the homeless at the

Franciscan mission.

In short, by the time Gabriel had seen every aspect of the Fran-

ciscans’ work with the poor, he’d endeavored to change everything

and agreed to finance the changes himself. Then he paid a few visits to some wealthy Florentine families, who he knew through his academic life, asking them to support the Franciscans as they helped

the poor of Florence. Their donations would ensure a steady stream of revenue for years to come.

As he stood in front of the Dante memorial, he was struck by a

sudden kinship with his favorite poet. Dante had been exiled from

Florence. Even though the city eventually forgave him and allowed

a memorial to be placed in his honor in the Basilica, he was buried in Ravenna. In a strange twist of fate, Gabriel now knew what it was 284

Gabriel’s Rapture

like to be exiled from his job, his city, and his home, for Julianne’s arms would always be his home. Even though he was forced into exile.

The memorials around him reminded him of his own mortality.

If he was lucky, he’d have a long life, but many people such as Grace had their lives cut short. He could be hit by a car, or contract cancer, or have a heart attack. Suddenly, his time on earth seemed very short and very precious.

Since he’d left Assisi, he’d tried to assuage his guilt and loneliness by doing good works. Volunteering with the Franciscans was

certainly a step in that direction. But what about making amends

with Paulina? It was far too late to make his peace with Grace, or Maia, or his biological mother and father.

What about Julianne?

Gabriel stared at the figure of a despairing woman who leaned

on what looked like Dante’s casket. He’d accepted his exile, but that didn’t mean he’d refrained from writing letter after letter to her, letters that were never sent.

P

Cemeteries had a stillness all their own. Even cemeteries located

in busy urban centers possessed this stil ness — an unearthly quiet that clings to the air.

Walking through the cemetery, Gabriel couldn’t pretend that he

was strolling in a park. The sparse trees that peppered the landscape were not teeming with singing birds. The grass, though green and

very well kept, was not alive with squirrels or the occasional urban rabbit, playing with his brothers or looking for food.

He saw the stone angels in the distance, their twin forms stand-

ing like tall sentries among the other monuments. They were made

of marble, not granite, their skin white and pale and perfect. The angels faced away from him, their wings spread wide. It was easier for him to stand behind the monument. He couldn’t see the name

etched in stone. He could stay there forever, a few feet away, and never approach. But that would be cowardly.

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He inhaled deeply, his sapphire eyes shut tightly, as he said a

silent prayer. Then he walked a half circuit around the monument,

stopping in front of the marker.

He removed a pristine handkerchief from his trouser pocket. An

onlooker might have guessed that he had need of it for sweat or tears, but he didn’t. He leaned forward and with a gentle hand swept the

white linen over the black stone. The dirt came away easily. He would need to tend the rose bushes that had begun to encroach upon the

letters. He made a mental note to hire a gardener.

He placed flowers in front of the stone, his mouth moving as if

he were whispering. But he wasn’t. The grave, of course, was empty.

A tear or two clouded his vision, followed by their brothers, and

soon his face was wet with their rain. He didn’t bother to wipe them away as he lifted his face to gaze upon the angels, the souls of silent, marble compassion.

He asked for forgiveness. He expressed his guilt, a guilt he knew

would ache for the rest of his life. He didn’t ask for his burden to be removed, for it seemed to him to be part of the consequences of his actions. Or rather, the consequences of what he failed to do for a mother and their child.

He reached into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone and dialed

a number from the iPhone’s memory.

“Hello?”

“Paulina. I need to see you.”

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Julia’s father insisted on attending her graduation and refused to allow Paul to move her to Cambridge alone. Tom paid the security

deposit and rent on her summer sublet. And it was Tom who flew

to Toronto so he could watch his only daughter graduate with her

MA on June eleventh.

Dressed in simple black with artful shoes, Julia left Paul and Tom on the steps of Convocation Hall while she went to line up with all the other graduating students.

Tom liked Paul. A lot.

Paul was forthright and had a firm handshake. He looked Tom

directly in the eye when they spoke to one another. Paul offered his assistance in helping move Julia to Cambridge, including accommodations on his family’s farm in Burlington, even after Tom had

insisted that he could move Julia by himself. Tom dropped a hint to his daughter over dinner the evening before graduation, suggesting that Paul was an obvious choice for a new love interest, but Julia pretended she hadn’t heard him.

As the graduates filed into the hall, Julia couldn’t help but scan the audience, looking for Gabriel. With so many people it was unlikely that she would see him, even if he were present. However, when she gazed over at the faculty section she easily located Katherine Picton, dressed in her Oxonian robes. If the faculty were arranged alpha-betically, and it certainly seemed as if they were, then Julia should have been able to guess where Gabriel would be seated, dressed in

Harvard’s crimson. But he wasn’t.

When they called Julia’s name, it was Katherine who ascended

the stage in slow but certain steps to hood Julia with the vestment Sylvain Reynard

of a magister. It was Katherine who shook her hand professionally, wished her well at Harvard, and handed her the diploma.

Later that evening, after a celebratory dinner with Paul and Tom

at a local steakhouse, Julia checked her voice mail and found a new message. It was from Rachel.

“Congratulations, Julia! We all send our love and we have presents for you. Thanks for sending me your new address in Cambridge. I’ll mail everything and make sure it arrives after you do. I’m also sending your bridesmaid’s dress.

“Dad booked your flight from Boston to Philadelphia for August twenty-first. I hope that’s okay. He wanted to pay for it, and I know that you were planning on coming a week early.

“I still haven’t heard from Gabriel. I’m hoping he was at your graduation. But if he wasn’t, maybe you two will be able to sort everything out at the wedding. I can’t imagine that he’d miss it. He’s supposed to be a groomsman, and I don’t even have his measurements for his tux!”

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A certain blue-eyed Dante specialist read T.S. Eliot’s poem

Ash Wednesday before offering his nighttime prayers. He was alone, and yet not alone.

Looking at the photograph on his bedside table he thought about

her graduation. How beautiful and proud she would have looked

in her robes. With a sigh, he closed his book of poetry and turned out the light.

In the darkness of his old bedroom in the Clarks’ former house,

he reflected on the past weeks. He’d left Italy and traveled to Boston and Minnesota. He’d promised the Franciscans he’d return, for they’d said (wisely) that they prized his presence more than his donations.

With that thought in mind, he closed his eyes.

P

“Gabriel, it’s time to get up.”

Groaning, he kept his eyes shut, hoping the voice would go away.

Sleep was peaceful and he needed it.

“Come on. I know you’re awake.” The voice laughed softly, and

he felt the mattress dip next to his legs.

He opened his eyes and saw his adoptive mother sitting on the

edge of his bed. “Is it time for school?” he asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Grace laughed again, the sound light and airy like music. “You’re

a bit old to be going to school, at least as a student.”

Sylvain Reynard

He looked around, confused. Then he sat up.

She smiled warmly and held out her hand. He relished the feel

of her soft hand in his before squeezing it.

“What’s the matter?” She gave him a puzzled look that was not

unkind, as he held her hand in both of his.

“I never said good-bye. I wasn’t able to tell you — ” He paused

and inhaled quickly. “That I love you.”

“A mother knows these things, Gabriel. I’ve always known.”

He was momentarily overcome with a wave of emotion as he

reached over and pulled her into a hug. “I didn’t know you were sick.

Rachel told me you were getting better. I should have been there.”

Grace patted him on the back. “I want you to stop blaming

yourself for everything. You made the best decision you could given the information you had at the time. No one expects you to be

omniscient — or perfect.”

She pulled away so she could see his face. “You shouldn’t expect

it of yourself, either. I love all my children, but you were my gift from God. You’ve always been special.”

Mother and son spent a moment or two in quiet communion

before she stood up, smoothing her dress.

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

Gabriel wiped his eyes, pulling back the blankets and swinging

his flannel covered legs to the floor. He stood up, trying to comb his hair, momentarily forgetting that he was shirtless. Grace went into the hallway then came back, with her arm around a young woman.

Gabriel stared.

The woman was young, although she seemed ageless. Her hair

was long and blond, her face a flawless white, and she was slender and tall. Her eyes were familiar. Striking sapphire blue eyes greeted his, accompanied by a wide, pink smile.

Gabriel gave Grace a questioning look.

“I’ll let you two talk,” she said, and disappeared.

“I’m Gabriel.” He smiled politely and extended his hand.

She shook it, grinning happily in return. “I know.” Her voice

was soft and very sweet. It reminded Gabriel of a little bell.

“And you are?”

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“I wanted to meet you. Grace told me what you were like as a child, about your work as a professor. I like Dante too. He’s very funny.”

Gabriel nodded, not quite understanding.

The young woman looked up at him wistfully. “Will you tell

me about her?”

“Who?”

“Paulina?”

Gabriel stiffened, and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Why?”

“I never knew her.”

He rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands. “She went to

see her family in Minnesota, to try to reconcile with them.”

“I know. She’s happy.”

“Then why do you ask?”

“I want to know what she’s like.”

He took a moment to carefully construct what to say. “She’s at-

tractive and smart. She’s stubborn. She speaks several languages and she cooks well.” He chuckled. “But she’s not especially musical. She can’t carry a tune in a basket.”

The young woman giggled. “So I’ve heard.” She eyed Gabriel

curiously. “Did you love her?”

He looked away. “I think I love her now, in a way. We were

friends in the beginning, when I met her at Oxford.”

The young woman nodded and turned her head as if someone

was calling her from the hallway. She quickly shifted her gaze back to Gabriel.

“I’m glad I met you. It wasn’t possible before. But I’ll see you

again.” She smiled and turned toward the door.

Gabriel followed her. “I didn’t catch your name.”

She looked up at him expectantly. “Don’t you recognize me?”

“I don’t. I’m sorry. Although there’s something familiar about

your eyes…”

She laughed and Gabriel smiled in spite of himself, for her laugh-

ter was infectious. “Of course my eyes are familiar; they’re yours.”

Gabriel’s smile slid off his face.

“Don’t you know me?” She seemed puzzled.

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He shook his head.

“I’m Maia.”

His expression froze. Then, as the moments passed, it ranged

through several different emotions, like clouds floating across the sky on a summer’s day.

She pointed to the tattoo he wore on his left pectoral. “You didn’t have to do that.” She leaned forward, whispering conspiratorially. “I know that you loved me.

“I’m happy here. It’s filled with light and hope and love. And it’s so beautiful.”

She reached up and kissed him on the cheek, her touch lingering

for only a second, before she left him to walk to the hallway.

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Tom stood at Julia’s front door the day after her graduation,

wearing a gray T-shirt with the word Harvard emblazoned

across the chest.

“Dad?” Julia’s tone was a question.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said gruffly, pulling her into a hug.

Father and daughter shared a quiet moment on the porch of Julia’s

building before they heard someone coming up the steps behind them.

“Uh, good morning. I brought breakfast.” Paul held a tray con-

taining three coffees and some doughnuts from Tim Horton’s. He

seemed somewhat embarrassed at having intruded on the Mitchells,

but he was greeted with a handshake from Tom and a hug from Julia.

The trio shared breakfast at Julia’s card table, then the two men

began planning how best to pack up all of her things and move them.

Luckily, Paul had persuaded Sarah, who was subletting to Julia, to allow her to move into the Cambridge apartment on June fifteenth.

“Um, Katherine Picton invited me to lunch today. But I don’t

have to go.” Julia spoke quickly. She didn’t want to leave Tom and Paul working while she went on a social call.

“You don’t have a lot of stuff, Jules.” Tom quickly appraised her

studio’s contents. “We’ll let you pack your clothes while we start on the books. I’m sure we’ll be close to finished by the time you have to see your professor.” He smiled and tousled her hair with his hand before disappearing into the washroom, leaving Paul and Julia alone.

“You don’t have to do this. Dad and I will be fine.”

Paul frowned. “When are you going to accept the fact that I’m

here because I want to be? I don’t leave, Julia, not when I have a reason to stay.”

Sylvain Reynard

Julia stiffened uncomfortably, and her eyes quickly fixated on

the half-finished coffee in front of her.

“If Professor Picton summoned you, it’s because she wants to talk

to you. You’d better go.” Paul squeezed Julia’s hand lightly. “Your old man and I can handle things around here.”

Julia exhaled slowly and smiled.

P

There were a few intimate things that Julia did not want her father or Paul to see so she hid them in her L. L. Bean knapsack. The items were not what one might expect a young woman to hide from her

father — a journal, diamond earrings, and a few items related to her counseling sessions.

Nicole had been pleased by Julia’s progress, and when they con-

cluded their final session, gave her the name and contact information of a counselor near Harvard. Nicole had not only helped Julia cope, she was passing her into another set of capable hands that would

help her take the next steps in her journey.

Julia wore a dress and modest sandals to Professor Picton’s house, thinking that an invitation to lunch warranted attractive garb. She carried her knapsack on one of her shoulders and clutched a tin of what she was told was a very fine loose Darjeeling tea, which she’d purchased as a hostess gift. She and her Darjeeling were received with typical Pictonian restraint and immediately ushered into the dining room where they enjoyed a very pleasant lunch of prawn salad, cold cucumber soup, and a fine Sauvignon blanc.

“How is your reading list coming along?” Katherine asked, eying

Julia over her soup.

“Slowly but surely. I’m reading the texts you’ve suggested, but

I’ve only started.”

“Professor Marinelli is looking forward to meeting you. It would

be good for you to introduce yourself to her when she arrives in

Cambridge.”

“I’ll do that. And thank you.”

“It would be beneficial for you to meet the other Dante specialists in the area, especially at Boston University.” Katherine smiled sagely.

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“Although I’m sure circumstances will arrange themselves so you end up being introduced to them eventually. But if they don’t, promise me that you will you drop by the Department of Romance Studies

at BU before September.”

“I will. Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done…”

Julia’s voice trailed off as she warred with her emotions.

Surprisingly, Katherine reached across the table and patted Julia’s hand. She touched her awkwardly, as a distinguished bachelor professor might pat the head of a crying child, but not without feeling.

“You’ve graduated with honors. Your thesis is solid and could

form the basis of what will hopefully be a fine dissertation. I look forward to watching your career with interest. And I think you will be very happy in Cambridge.”

“Thank you.”

When it was time for her to leave, Julia intended to shake Kath-

erine’s hand but was surprised when she was pulled into a restrained but warm hug.

“You’ve been a good student. Now go to Harvard and make me

proud. And drop me an email now and then to let me know how

you are.” Katherine pulled back and looked at Julia fixedly. “It’s quite possible I’ll be giving a lecture in Boston in the fall. I hope we’ll run into one another.”

Julia nodded her agreement.

As she walked to her small studio on Madison Avenue, she stared

in wonder at the gift Professor Picton had placed in her hands. It was a worn and rare early edition of Dante’s La Vita Nuova that had belonged to Dorothy L. Sayers, who had been a friend of Katherine’s dissertation director at Oxford. In it was Sayers’s marginalia, written in her own hand. Julia would treasure it always.

No matter what Gabriel had done, persuading Katherine Picton

to be her thesis advisor was a gift so great she would be forever in his debt.

Love is doing a kindness for someone else, not expecting to receive anything in return, she thought.

P

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Early the next morning, Julia, Tom, and Paul loaded everything

into the back of a U-Haul and drove eight hours to the Norris farm, which was located just outside of Burlington, Vermont. The Mitchells were warmly welcomed and were persuaded to stay a few extra days

so Ted Norris, Paul’s father, could take Tom fishing.

Julia silently doubted that any other inducement would have

delayed his rigorous schedule, but that was before either of them had tried Louise Norris’s cooking. Paul’s mother was an excellent cook who made everything, including doughnuts, from scratch. Tom’s

stomach was in love.

On June fifteenth, the night before the Mitchells and Paul were

supposed to leave for Cambridge, Paul couldn’t sleep. His father

had called him out of bed well after midnight because of a bovine

emergency. By the time the crisis was averted, he was far too agitated to go back to bed.

He had two women on his mind. Allison, his former girlfriend,

had been visiting when he arrived with Julia two days earlier. They were still friends, so the gesture was well meant, but Paul knew that part of her reason for being there was to size Julia up. He’d told Allison about Julia at Christmas, so she was more than aware of Julia’s presence in his life and his attachment to her. An attachment that he had to admit was unrequited, at least, at that time.

Still, Allison was friendly to Julia, and of course, Julia was her own shy but charming self. It was awkward for Paul as he watched

his past and his potential future make small talk while he fumbled for something to say.

When Allison called his cell phone before bed that evening and

said that Julia was lovely, he didn’t know how to respond. Of course he had feelings for Allison. They had a long and good history as

friends before they began dating. He loved her stil . But she’d broken things off with him. He’d moved on and met Julia. Why should he

feel guilty?

While Paul was contemplating his very complex (yet simulta-

neously non-existent) love life, Julia was wrestling with insomnia.

When she finally grew weary of tossing and turning she decided to

creep from the third floor garret she was occupying to the kitchen to get a glass of milk.

She found Paul sitting alone at the large, harvest table, eating a rather expansive dish of ice cream.

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“Hi.” He took in her appearance with a swift but appreciative look.

Julia walked over to him wearing an old Selinsgrove High School

T-shirt and a pair of running shorts that had St. Joe’s cheekily sewn onto the seat.

(To Paul’s eyes, she was Helen of Troy in leisurewear.)

“You can’t sleep, either?” She pulled out a chair to sit next to him.

“Dad had a problem with one of the cows. Heath Bar Crunch?”

He dished up a large spoonful of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream and held it out to her.

It was her favorite flavor. She gently took the spoon out of his

hand.

“Mmmmm,” she groaned, eyes closed. She opened her eyes and

handed back the spoon, resisting the urge to lick it clean.

Paul put the spoon in the bowl and stood up. She blinked at

him and instinctively moved back in her chair.

“Julia,” he whispered, pulling her to her feet. He pushed her hair behind her shoulders, noting that she didn’t flinch when he did so.

Their upper bodies grazed one another. He looked into her eyes with an expression of heated intensity. “I don’t want to say good-bye.”

Her face crinkled up into a smile. “We won’t be saying good-bye.

We’ll email and talk on the phone. If you come to Boston, we’ll see each other.”

“I don’t think you understand.”

Julia freed her wrist from Paul’s hand, stepping back. “It’s because of Allison, isn’t it? I don’t want to create trouble for you. Dad and I can make the trip by ourselves.”

She waited patiently for his response, but instead of looking

relieved, he looked conflicted.

“This isn’t about Allison.”

“It isn’t?”

“Do you really have to ask me that?” He took another step toward

her. “Don’t you know?”

Leery of rejection, he raised his hands slowly and cupped her

face. Her fine features were engulfed by his large hands. He held

her tenderly, worried about such fragility underneath his grasp, and slowly began to stroke her face with his thumbs.

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Julia tore her eyes away from his. “Paul, I — ”

“Let me say this,” he interrupted forcefully. “Just once, let me

tell you how I feel.” He inhaled and waited until she met his gaze again before he spoke.

“I’m in love with you. I don’t want to be apart from you because I love you. The thought of having to leave you in Cambridge is tear-ing me up.”

Julia inhaled slowly and began to shake her head.

“Just hear me out. I know that you aren’t in love with me. I know

it’s too soon. But do you think that you could be — in time?”

She closed her eyes. Her mind raced ahead to envision a future

she hadn’t previously considered — a crossroads of possibilities. She thought of what it would be like to love Paul, to be held and kissed by him, to have him take her to his bed upstairs and make love to

her, gently and sweetly. For she knew above all things that Paul

would be sweet.

He would want marriage, of course, and children. But he would

be proud of her academic career and support her in it.

She found herself unrepulsed by these images, for they were good.

She could have a contented life with a decent man who had never

done her ill and who, she knew, would probably never so much as hurt her feelings as long as he lived. She could have a good life with him.

He lifted her chin and she opened her eyes.

“There won’t be drama and fights and exes like Professor Pain. I

will treat you respectfully, and I will never, ever leave you.

“Choose me,” he whispered, his eyes deep and intense. “Choose me and I will give you a happy life. You’ll never have to cry yourself to sleep again.”

Tears began to stream down her face. She knew that what he

was saying was true. But knowing the truth and wanting the truth

are two very different things.

“I’m not like him. I’m not an inferno that blazes and dies out.

I’m constant. I’ve held back because I knew that you only wanted

to be friends. But just once, I’d like to be able to show you what I feel without holding back.”

He took her silence as acquiescence and wrapped his arms around

her. He bent down so their lips could meet and poured all his passion 298

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and love for her into a single kiss. Paul’s mouth was warm and inviting.

What began as a gentle contact quickly became urgent with desire.

With a split-second decision, she opened to him, tentatively, and

his tongue quickly entered and met hers, his hands ending up in her hair. There was no domination, no pressing of boundaries, nothing

overwhelming or crass.

Paul kissed her for as long as he could without becoming ob-

scene, then slowly lessened the pressure of his lips on hers, pecking her briefly before moving his lips to her ear. “I love you, Julia. Say that you’ll be mine. You won’t regret it.”

Julia tightened her arms around him as the tears fell.

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Over breakfast the next morning, Louise Norris looked with

concern between her son and the young woman he loved.

Her husband, Ted, tried to keep the conversation moving by talk-

ing about the ill cow he’d tended to the night before. Tom tried to cram a homemade doughnut into his mouth without appearing like

a barbarian, and failed.

After breakfast, the kitchen emptied like a galleon full of rats

docking in a new port, leaving Paul and Julia sitting across from

one another, each fidgeting with their coffee mugs and avoiding

one another’s eyes.

Julia broke the silence. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too.”

She chewed on her lip as her eyes darted to meet his, wondering

if he was angry or bitter. Or both.

But he wasn’t. His dark eyes were still kind, but he appeared

defeated. “I had to try, you know? I didn’t want to wait until you’d found someone else. But I won’t bring it up again.” He pursed his

lips, and a resigned expression passed over his face. “You don’t need to worry about me embarrassing you.”

Julia leaned over the table and took his hand in hers. “I wasn’t

embarrassed. I know that we would have had a good life together. I care for you too. But you deserve more. You deserve to have a life with someone who will love you the same way that you love her.”

Paul released her hand and walked away.

P

Gabriel’s Rapture

“Care to explain why he’s so quiet?” Tom turned to Julia as they

waited for Paul to come out of the men’s room at a gas station in

New Hampshire.

“He wants more than I can give him.”

Tom squinted at something in the distance. “He seems like a

good man. He comes from a good family. What’s the problem? Got

a thing against cows?”

He was trying to make her laugh, but it had the opposite effect.

He quickly held his hands up in surrender. “What do I know? I

thought the senator’s son was a good match for you. So I guess I’m a horse’s ass.”

Before Julia could disagree, Paul returned to the U-Haul, ending

the heart to heart conversation between father and daughter.

P

Two days later Julia stood on the front steps of her new build-

ing, saying good-bye to Paul, feeling worse than she had when she

rejected him in his parents’ kitchen. He hadn’t been cold, or rude, or resentful. He hadn’t shirked any responsibilities in terms of driving from Vermont to Cambridge, or unloading Julia’s things.

He’d even gone out of his way to set up a job interview for her at the trendy coffee shop across the street. The former occupant of the apartment had just quit her job there. Paul hoped that Julia could replace her, knowing that she needed the money.

He’d slept on the floor in Julia’s small apartment and never com-

plained. He’d been perfect, actually. And that made Julia almost feel as if she should change her mind.

It would be safer, easier, to choose Paul. Her heart would heal

with him. But in choosing Paul, she would be settling for the good and not the exceptional. And even if the exceptional eluded her for the rest of her life, it would be better, she thought, to live the life of a Katherine Picton, than to be like her mother. In marrying a good man without loving him passionately and completely, she would only serve to short-change him and herself. And she was not that selfish.

“Good-bye.” He hugged her tightly and released her, watching her

expression carefully. Perhaps he was looking to see if she’d changed her mind.

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“Good-bye. Thanks for everything. I don’t know what I would

have done without you, all these months — ”

He shrugged. “This is what friends do.”

Paul saw her eyes fill with tears and gave her a very worried

expression. “We’re still friends, aren’t we?”

“Of course we are.” Julia sniffled. “You’ve been a great friend to me, and I hope that we can still be friends, even though…” She didn’t finish her sentence, and Paul nodded as if he was grateful she hadn’t.

With much hesitation he reached out to stroke her cheek one last

time. Then he walked toward the car where his friend Patrick was

waiting. Patrick was going to drive him back to Vermont.

Suddenly, Paul stopped. He turned around and walked back to

Julia, nervously.

“I didn’t want to mention this in front of your father, so I was

waiting until after he left. Then I thought maybe I shouldn’t say

anything at all.” Paul looked away, up Mount Auburn Street, seem-

ingly struggling with something.

“What is it?”

He shook his head, turning to look at her. “I got an email yes-

terday from Professor Martin.”

Julia looked up at him in surprise.

“Emerson quit.”

“What?” She placed a hand on either side of her temple as she

tried to focus on the enormity of what Paul was saying. “When?”

“I don’t know. He agreed to continue supervising my dissertation,

even though he’s leaving. At least, that’s what Martin said. I haven’t heard from Emerson at all.”

Paul caught sight of Julia’s agitated pose and quickly put an arm

around her shoulders.

“I didn’t want to upset you, but I thought you should know. The

department is starting a search for his replacement, and I’m sure

they’l be recruiting at Harvard. I knew you’d hear about it. I thought it would be better coming from me.”

Julia nodded woodenly. “Where’s he going?”

“I have no idea. Martin was tight-lipped about the entire thing.

I think he’s pissed. After all the shit Emerson put the department through, he up and quit.”

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Julia numbly hugged Paul good-bye and returned to her new

apartment so she could think. That evening, she called Rachel. When she received a voice mail message she contemplated telephoning

Richard, but she didn’t want to bother him. She knew that Scott

wouldn’t have any inside information as to Gabriel’s whereabouts.

So she left a couple of messages on Rachel’s cell phone over the

course of the next few days, then she waited. Rachel never responded.

As the days of June passed, Julia started a part-time job as a sales clerk at Peet’s coffee shop, which was located in a remodeled three-story house across the street. Since Tom covered her rent and her

moving expenses, and since he had demanded that she take some of

the proceeds from the sale of his house back in Selinsgrove, she was able to live simply but comfortably on her part-time job and her

savings until her fellowship began in late August.

She quickly arranged an appointment with the therapist that

Nicole had recommended and began meeting with Dr. Margaret

Walters on a weekly basis. When she wasn’t learning the ropes of the retail coffee market and charming the citizens of Harvard Square, she followed Katherine Picton’s instructions and introduced herself to Greg Matthews, the Chair of her new department.

Professor Matthews received her warmly, and they spent the

better part of an hour discussing their common interest in Dante.

He mentioned that Cecilia Marinelli was arriving from Oxford the

following week and suggested that Julia drop by in order to attend a reception that was being held in Professor Marinelli’s honor. Julia accepted the invitation gladly. Then he walked her to the graduate student lounge and introduced her to a group of students before

politely taking his leave.

Two of the students were cordial but not particularly friendly.

The third student, Zsuzsa, who was from Hungary, welcomed Julia

immediately. She told Julia that a group of them met for drinks every Wednesday at Grendel’s Den, a local pub overlooking Winthrop Park.

Apparently, Grendel’s had a lovely patio and an exceptional beer list.

Julia promised to meet Zsuzsa there the following Wednesday night, and the two women exchanged email addresses.

Despite Julia’s overall shyness, a character trait that she would

never lose completely, she fit into the Harvard landscape like a hand into a glove. She found an undergraduate tour guide called Ari who gave her an orientation to the campus, the library, and the graduate 303

Sylvain Reynard

school. She secured a library card in advance of registration, which would be held in August.

Julia dropped into the graduate student lounge on occasion to see

Zsuzsa and to learn more about the atmosphere of the department.

And she spent long hours in the library, hunting down books that

she would need to read that summer. Exploring the neighborhood,

she found a grocery store and a bank and claimed a particular Thai restaurant, which was just down the street from her apartment, as

her new favorite place to eat.

So by the time Rachel called her on June twenty-sixth, Julia was

completely at home in her new life and happy. Almost.

Julia was in between customers when Rachel called her cell phone,

so she asked one of her co-workers to cover for her and walked out to the front lawn so as not to disturb anyone.

“Rachel, how are you?”

“We’re fine! I’m sorry it took me so long to get back to you. Some bastard stole my phone and I had to get a new one. Then I had to

go back through all the messages, starting with the ones about the wedding and —”

Julia gritted her teeth only slightly as she waited for Rachel to

draw breath so she could steer the conversation in a completely different direction. In two or three paragraphs, her patience was rewarded.

“Gabriel quit his job.”

“What?” Rachel almost shouted. “How do you know?”

“A friend of mine was his research assistant in Toronto.”

“That explains it,” Rachel said.

“Explains what?”

“Gabriel sold his condo. He sent Dad an email saying that he

was moving and that he has been staying in hotels while he looks

for a house.”

Julia leaned her back up against the old, gnarled oak tree that

stood in front of Peet’s.

“Did he mention where he was looking?”

“No. Just that he’d hired a company to pack up his things and

put them in storage. But if he quit his job — ”

“He’s in the process of quitting.”

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“Then you should call him! Julia, it’s the perfect time. You have

to call him.”

Julia gritted her teeth. “No.”

“Why not?”

“He broke up with me, remember? I’m not going to be the one to fix this — assuming it can be fixed.”

Rachel grew very quiet for a moment. “I’m not suggesting you

sweep whatever happened under the carpet. But I hope that you

two could talk about what happened. He needs to hear how you feel

about all of this and what happened to you after he left. And frankly, he needs to offer some kind of explanation. He owes you that. Then you can tell him to get lost, if that’s what you really want.”

Julia squeezed her eyes shut as a wave of pain washed over her. The thought of seeing Gabriel — and listening to his explanation — physically hurt.

“I’m not sure my heart can survive his explanation.”

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Chapter 42

Julia buried herself in busyness for the next few days, studying in preparation for her introduction to Professor Marinelli. Since the Professor was the guest of honor at the lavish reception where they met, their conversation was short, but a success. Professor Marinelli was still settling into her new home, but recognized Julia’s name

thanks to Professor Picton’s recommendation and suggested that

they meet for coffee in July.

Julia wafted home on a breeze of optimism. She was so happy,

she decided it was finally time to begin the project she’d been avoiding — unpacking her books and arranging them on shelves in her

small apartment. Until that evening, she’d availed herself of Harvard’s libraries. But every day the collection of boxes nagged at her, and so she finally decided it was time to organize them. The process took longer than she anticipated. She finished about a third of the boxes that evening before walking to the Thai restaurant and ordering take out.

Two days later, Julia was down to the final box. After a very

enjoyable evening with Zsuzsa and a few other graduate students

at Grendel’s Den on June thirtieth, Julia came home determined to

finish unpacking.

As had been her practice, she shelved the volumes in alphabeti-

cal order almost mindlessly. Until she came to the last book in the bottom of the last cardboard box, Marriage in the Middle Ages: Love, Sex, and the Sacred, published by Oxford University Press. Frowning, she turned the volume over in her hands. It took a few minutes for a distant memory to creep back to her — Paul, standing in her studio apartment, saying that he’d retrieved her mail from the department.

“A medieval history textbook,” he’d said.

Gabriel’s Rapture

Out of curiosity, Julia leafed through the volume and found a

business card wedged in the Table of Contents. The card was for Alan Mackenzie, the Oxford University Press textbook representative in

Toronto. On the back of his card was a handwritten note that stated he’d be happy to help her with her textbook needs.

Julia was about to close the book and shelve it when her eyes

alighted on one of the readings.

The Letters of Abelard and Héloise, Letter Six.

It only took an instant for Julia to recall her last conversation

with Gabriel.

Gabriel turned away from Jeremy, lowering his voice to a whisper.

“Read my sixth letter. Paragraph four.”

Her heart racing, she turned the pages, shocked to find an il-

lustration and a photograph marking the place where Abelard’s sixth letter was found:

But whither does my vain imagination carry me! Ah, Héloise,

how far are we from such a happy temper? Your heart still

burns with that fatal fire you cannot extinguish, and mine

is full of trouble and unrest. Think not, Héloise, that I here enjoy a perfect peace; I will for the last time open my heart

to you; — I am not yet disengaged from you, and though I

fight against my excessive tenderness for you, in spite of all my endeavours I remain but too sensible of your sorrows and long

to share in them. Your letters have indeed moved me; I could

not read with indifference characters written by that dear hand!

I sigh and weep, and all my reason is scarce sufficient to conceal my weakness from my pupils. This, unhappy Héloise, is the

miserable condition of Abelard. The world, which is generally

wrong in its notions, thinks I am at peace, and imagining that I loved you only for the gratification of the senses, have now forgot you. What a mistake is this!

She must have read the passage five times before its message

began to sink into her agitated mind.

Julia looked at the illustration closely. The title read The Conten-tion for Guido de Montefeltro. The name was familiar, but she couldn’t quite remember its significance. She grabbed her latptop, intent on 307

Sylvain Reynard

looking the image up on the internet but quickly remembered that

she didn’t have internet access in her apartment.

She located her phone, but the battery was dead and she had no

idea where the cord was to recharge it. Undeterred, she returned to the book and picked up the photograph that had been placed next

to the illustration. It was a picture of the apple orchard behind the Clarks’ house. Gabriel’s handwriting was on the back:

To my Beloved,

My heart is yours and my body.

My soul, likewise.

I will be true to you, Beatrice.

I want to be your last.

Wait for me…

When she’d overcome her shock, she was desperate to speak to

him. She didn’t care that it was close to midnight and Mount Au-

burn Street was dark. She didn’t care that Peet’s had closed hours ago.

She grabbed her laptop and fled her apartment, knowing that if she could stand just outside the door to Peet’s, she’d be able to pick up a wireless signal and email Gabriel. Julia had no idea what she would say. All she could do was run.

The neighborhood was almost silent. Despite the gentle drizzle

and mist of warm vespertine rain, a small group of what looked like frat boys were about a half a block away, talking and laughing. Julia stepped from the curb and began to cross the street, her flip-flops squishing against the wet asphalt. She ignored the droplets that fell from the sky, soaking through her T-shirt. She ignored the thunder that began to roll and the flash of lightning that illuminated the eastern sky.

In the very center of the road, she stopped because straight ahead of her, she glimpsed a shadowy figure lurking in the darkness behind the oak tree in front of Peet’s. Another flash of lightning revealed that the figure was a man.

He was half-hidden by the tree and in the absence of light, she

couldn’t make out his features. She knew better than to approach

a stranger in the shadows, so she stayed where she was, craning her neck to see him.

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As if in response to her movements, he came around the edge

of the tree and slowly walked into the pool of light that cascaded onto the sidewalk from the street lamp. Another bolt of lightning

shimmered overhead, and for one brief instant Julia thought he

looked like an angel.

Gabriel.

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Gabriel saw the pain in her eyes. That was the first thing he no-

ticed. Somehow, she looked older. But her beauty, her goodness

made visible, was even more breathtaking than it had been before.

Standing in front of her, he was overwhelmed by how much he

loved her. All his trials fell away. He’d been working up the nerve to go to her, to ring the doorbell and beg entrance. When he thought

he couldn’t wait a minute more, the door to her apartment building opened and she scampered like a deer into the road.

He’d fantasized about their reunion. On some days, it was the

only thought that sustained him. But the longer she stood, statue

still, making no move to come to him, the more a feeling of despair grew. Several different scenarios coursed through his consciousness, few of them ending happily.

Don’t send me away, he begged her silently. Running an uneasy hand through his hair, he tried to smooth the rain dampened strands.

“Julianne.” He couldn’t disguise the tremor in his voice. She was

staring through him as if he were a ghost.

Before Gabriel could give voice to that idea, he heard something

approach. He turned in the direction of an approaching vehicle. Julia was still standing in the road.

He shouted to her wildly, “Julia, move!”

Frozen, she ignored his warning, and the car whipped past, nar-

rowly missing her. Gabriel began walking toward her, arms and hands waving.

“Julia, get out of the road. Now!”

Chapter 44

Julia’s eyes were shut tightly. She could hear noises and the distant hum of his voice, but she couldn’t make out any words. Droplets of rain fell on her bare arms and legs, and a solid chest pressed against her face as a warm, masculine body wrapped around her like a blanket.

She opened her eyes.

Gabriel’s handsome face was lined with worry, his eyes shimmer-

ing with hope. He placed a hesitant hand against the curve of her

cheek, brushing under her eye with the pad of his thumb.

For a few moments, at least, they said nothing.

“Are you all right?” he breathed.

She stared up at him, speechless.

“I didn’t mean to shock you. I came as soon as I could.”

His words broke through the haze that froze her. Julia wriggled

out of his grasp. “What are you doing here?”

He frowned. “I would have thought it was obvious.”

“Not to me.”

Gabriel huffed in frustration. “It’s July first. I came as soon as I could.”

Julia shook her head, taking a cautious step back. “What?”

His voice took on a conciliatory tone. “I wish I could have

returned earlier.”

Her expression said it all — the narrowed, suspicious eyes, the

ruby lips pressed tightly together, the clenched jaw.

“You knew I resigned. Surely you must have known I’d come back.”

Julia clutched her laptop to her chest. “Why would I think that?”

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His eyes widened. For a moment, he was too stunned to speak.

“Did you think that I wouldn’t come back, even after I’d resigned?”

“That’s what a person tends to think when her lover flees the city without so much as a phone call. And sends her an impersonal email saying that it’s over.”

Gabriel’s expression hardened. “Sarcasm does not become you,

Julianne.”

“Lying does not become you, Professor.” Her eyes flashed.

He took a step toward her, then stopped. “So we’re back to that,

are we? Julianne and the Professor?”

“According to what you told the hearing officers, we never got past it. You’re the professor, I’m the student. You seduced and dumped

me. The hearing officers didn’t tell me if you said that you enjoyed it.”

He swore under his breath. “I sent you messages. You simply

chose not to believe them.”

“What messages? The telephone cal s you never made? The letters

you never wrote? Apart from that email, I’ve heard nothing from you since you called me Héloise. Absolutely nothing.

“And what about the messages I left you? Maybe you deleted them

without bothering to listen — just like you left without bothering to tell me. Do you know how humiliating that was? That the man who

was supposed to love me fled the city in order to break up with me?”

Gabriel pressed a hand to his forehead, as if to help his mind focus.

“What about the letter from Abelard to Héloise and the photograph

of our orchard? I put the book in your mailbox myself.”

“I didn’t know the textbook was from you. I only looked at it a

few minutes ago.”

“But I told you to read Abelard’s letter! I told you myself,” he

sputtered, a horrified expression on his face.

Julia clutched her laptop more tightly. “No, you said read my sixth letter. I did. You told me to choose a sweater because the weather had turned cold.” She eyed him furiously. “You were right.”

“I called you Héloise. Wasn’t it obvious?”

“It was crushingly obvious,” she snapped. “Héloise was seduced

and abandoned by her professor. Your message was crystal clear!”

“But the textbook…” he began. He searched her eyes. “The

photograph.”

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“I found it tonight when I was unpacking my books.” Her ex-

pression softened. “Before this, I thought you were telling me that you’d tired of me.”

“Forgive me,” he managed. His words were woefully inadequate,

but they came from the heart. “I…Julianne, I need to expl — ”

“We should go inside,” she interrupted, peering up at the windows

of her apartment.

He reached out to take her hand but thought better of it, letting

his arm drop to his side.

The thunder and lightning continued as they climbed the stairs.

By the time they entered the studio apartment, the lights had flickered and gone out.

“I wonder if it’s just this building,” Julia mused. “Or if it’s the whole street.”

Gabriel murmured his response, watching impotently as she felt

her way across the room. She pulled back the blinds to let in as much light as possible. Mount Auburn Street was dark.

“We could go somewhere with electricity.” His voice sounded at

her elbow, and she jumped.

“Sorry.” He placed a hand on her arm.

“I’d rather stay here.”

Gabriel resisted the urge to insist, realizing that he was in no position to demand that Julia do anything. He looked around the room.

“Do you have a flashlight or some candles?”

“Both, I think.” She found a flashlight and handed Gabriel a towel while she retreated to the bathroom to change into dry clothes. By the time she’d returned, he was seated on the futon, surrounded by a half-dozen tea lights, which were spread artfully on the furniture and across the floor.

Julia watched the shadows flicker on the wall behind him. Un-

earthly shapes seemed to hover around him, as if he were trapped in Dante’s Inferno. The lines on his forehead had deepened, it seemed, and his eyes appeared larger. He hadn’t shaved recently, the scruff of his beard covering the planes of his face. He’d smoothed his damp

hair back with his fingers, but a single curl had rebelled, clinging stubbornly to his forehead.

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Julia had forgotten how attractive he was. How, with just a glance or a word he could make her blood heat. He was as dangerous as

he was beautiful.

Gabriel reached out to pull her to sit next to him, but she curled into the opposite corner.

“I found a corkscrew and a bottle of wine. I hope you don’t mind.”

He handed her a glass that was half-full of an inexpensive Shiraz. She was surprised he’d bothered, for it was the kind of wine he would

have disdained in the past.

She took several long sips, savoring the wine on her tongue. She

waited for him to cough, sputter, and complain about the appalling bathwater. But he didn’t. In fact, he didn’t drink at all. Instead, he stared at her, his eyes coming to rest unapologetically on the swell of her breasts.

“Are you changing schools?” His voice sounded husky.

“What?”

He gestured to her sweatshirt.

She looked down. Boston College.

“No, Paul gave this to me. He went there for his master’s,

remember?”

Gabriel stiffened. “I gave you a sweatshirt once,” he observed,

more to himself than to her.

Julia took another long sip of wine, wishing there was more of it.

He watched her drink, his eyes resting on her mouth and throat.

“Do you still have my Harvard sweatshirt?”

“Let’s talk about something else.”

He shifted uncomfortably but couldn’t drag his gaze away from

her. He longed to run his hands up and down her body and press

their mouths together. “What do you think about Boston University?”

She looked over at him warily. In response to her suspicion, the

bravado seemed to leak out of his gaze and he chewed at the edge

of his mouth.

“Katherine Picton told me to introduce myself to the Dante spe-

cialist in the Department of Romance Studies. But I haven’t gotten around to it. I’ve been busy.”

“Then I need to thank her.”

“Why?”

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He hesitated.

“I’m the new Dante specialist at Boston University.”

He searched her eyes for a reaction. But there wasn’t one. She sat very still, the candlelight flickering over her fine features.

He chuckled mirthlessly, pouring more wine into her glass. “That

isn’t the response I was hoping for.”

She muttered her annoyance, tasting the wine again. “So

you’re — here to stay?”

“That depends.” He looked at her sweatshirt significantly.

The heat of his gaze seemed to scorch her. She resisted the urge

to hide her breasts from him, keeping her arms at her sides.

“I’m a full professor now. Romance Studies doesn’t have a gradu-

ate program in Italian. The university wanted to be able to attract graduate students in Dante studies, so they cross-appointed me with Religion. They have a graduate program.”

He gazed at the shadows that surrounded them, shaking his head.

“Surprising, isn’t it? That a man who spent his life running from God should become a professor of Religion.”

“I’ve seen stranger things.”

“Yes,” Gabriel whispered, “I think you have. I would have resigned from Toronto sooner, but it would have caused a scandal. Once you’d graduated, I was free to accept the job here.”

Julia turned away, and Gabriel noticed the nakedness of her ear

lobes. She wasn’t wearing Grace’s earrings anymore. The thought

gutted him.

Her brow wrinkled as she contemplated what he’d just said.

“What’s so significant about July first?”

“Today is the day my contract in Toronto ends. It’s the day my

resignation takes effect.” He cleared his throat. “I read your emails and listened to your voice mails — all of them. But I hoped you’d

seen the book. I placed it in your mailbox myself.”

Julia was still processing his words. She wasn’t accepting his

excuses; she simply wasn’t arguing with him. At least, not yet.

“I’m sorry I missed your graduation.” He sipped a glass of water.

“Katherine sent me a few photographs.” He cleared his throat, hesitating. “You looked beautiful. You are beautiful.”

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He dug into his trouser pocket and produced his iPhone. Curi-

ous, she took it, setting her wine aside. As his wallpaper, Gabriel had a photograph of Julia in her graduation gown, shaking Katherine

Picton’s hand.

“From Katherine,” he explained, noting her confusion.

She scrolled through his photo album determinedly, her stom-

ach queasy. There were pictures from their trip to Italy and photos from Christmas, but Paulina was not to be found. There were no

compromising pictures of Gabriel, no images of other women. In

fact, almost al the pictures were of her, including a series of very provocative shots that he’d taken in Belize.

She was surprised. After being so convinced he wanted nothing

to do with her, the sight of his apparent regard was disorienting.

She returned his phone. “The picture that you used to keep on

your dresser, the one of us at Lobby, did you take it with you?”

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Yes. How did you know?”

Julia paused for a moment as the revelation sunk in. “I noticed

it was missing when I went looking for you.”

He reached out to take her hand but once again, she withdrew.

“When I went back to my condo, I saw your clothes. Why you

didn’t take them?”

“They weren’t really mine.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows knitted together. “Of course they were yours.

They still are, if you want them.”

She shook her head.

“Believe me, Julianne, I wanted you with me. The photograph

was a poor substitute.”

“You wanted me?”

Gabriel couldn’t help himself. He gently stroked the curve of

her cheek with his thumb, inwardly relieved that she didn’t flinch.

“I never stopped wanting you.”

She moved away, leaving his hand to touch only air. Her tone

grew harsh. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be left by the person you love, not once, but twice?”

Gabriel pressed his lips together. “No, I don’t. Forgive me.”

He waited to see if she would answer him, but she didn’t.

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“So Paul gave you that sweatshirt.” He toyed with his glass. “How

is he?”

“He’s fine. Why do you care?”

“He’s my student.” Professor Emerson sounded prim.

“So was I, once,” she said bitterly. “You should email him. He

said he hasn’t heard from you.”

“So you’ve spoken with him?”

“Yes, Gabriel. I’ve spoken with him.”

Julia pulled her wet hair out of its ponytail, running her fingers delicately through the tangles.

Gabriel watched, entranced, as a cascade of dark, shiny strands

fell across her thin shoulders.

“My hair hurts,” she explained.

The corners of his mouth turned up in amusement. “I didn’t

know hair could hurt.”

He ran his fingers through her hair, and his expression changed

instantly to one of concern. “You could have been seriously injured, standing in the middle of the street.”

“I’m lucky I didn’t drop my laptop. It has all my research on it.”

“It’s my fault for surprising you. I’m sure I looked like a ghost, skulking about behind that tree.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever skulked a day in your life. And you

didn’t look like a ghost. You looked like something else.”

“Like what?”

Suddenly, Julia felt her skin flame.

He watched her cheeks take on the shade of pink he was most

familiar with. He ached to feel her blush beneath his fingers. But he was wary of pushing her.

She gestured vaguely. “Paul suggested I back up my files on a

flash drive, so if something happened to my computer I’d still have everything. But I haven’t updated it recently.”

At the second mention of his former research assistant, Gabriel

suppressed a growl and the urge to mutter a favored expletive that involved copulating carnally with celestial creatures.

He turned to her. “I thought you’d expect me to get in touch

with you once you graduated.”

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“What if I did, Gabriel? Graduation came and went with no

word from you.”

“As I said, I had to wait until my resignation took effect. My

contract didn’t end until July first.”

“I don’t want to talk about that right now.”

“Why not?”

“Because I can’t say the things I need to say while you’re sitting on my futon.”

“I see,” he said slowly.

She shifted her feet, actively resisting the overwhelming urge

to throw herself into his arms and tell him that everything was fine.

Things between them weren’t fine. And she owed it to herself, if not to him, to be honest.

“I’ve taken up enough of your evening.” He sounded defeated.

He stood, glancing at the door, then back at Julia. “I understand

if you don’t want to talk to me. But I hope you’ll give me one more conversation before you say good-bye.”

Julia straightened her shoulders. “You didn’t say good-bye with

a conversation. You said it by fucking me against a door.”

He strode toward her quickly.

“Stop it. You know my opinion of that word. Never use it in reference to us again.”

Here was the old Professor Emerson, simmering beneath Gabriel’s

chastened exterior. He’d been soft with her, so she found his change in tone jarring. But she’d been exposed to his ill temper before and discovered, at that moment, that it didn’t really trouble her. So she ignored him and stood up, prepared to escort him out.

“Don’t forget this.” She picked up his cell phone.

“Thank you. Julianne, please — ”

“How’s Paulina?”

Her question hung in the air like an arrow, poised in flight.

“Why do you ask?”

“I’m wondering how often you saw her while you were gone.”

Gabriel placed his phone in his pocket. “I saw her once. I asked

for her forgiveness and wished her well.” His tone had the air of

finality.

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“Is that all?”

“Why don’t you just come out and ask the question, Julianne?”

His lips pressed into a thin, angry line. “Why don’t you ask me if I slept with her?”

“Did you?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“Of course not!”

Gabriel’s answer was so swift, so vehement, Julia retreated slightly.

He was righteously indignant, his fists clenched.

“Maybe I should have been more specific. There are a lot of things a man and woman can do short of sleeping together.” She raised her chin defiantly.

Gabriel glared, forcing himself to count to ten. It would not do

for him to lose his temper now. Not when he had so far to go.

“I realize that you and I have very different views of my departure, but I assure you, I didn’t seek out other women.” His expression grew gentle. “I was alone with your pictures and my memories, Julianne.

They were poor companions, but the only other companion I wanted

was you.”

“So there wasn’t anyone else?”

“I was faithful the entire time. I swear it, on Grace’s memory.”

His oath stunned them both, and as their eyes met she saw his

sincerity. She closed her eyes. Relief began to well up inside her.

He took her hand, cradling it gently in his. “There are a lot of

things I should have told you. I’ll tell you now. Come with me.”

“I’d rather stay here,” she whispered, her voice taking on an eerie sound in the flickering darkness.

“The Julianne I remembered hated the dark.” He released her

hand. “Paulina is in Minnesota. She reconciled with her family and met someone. We agreed that I would no longer be supporting her,

and she wished us well.”

“She wished you well,” Julia muttered.

“No, she wished us well. Don’t you see? She assumed we were still together and I didn’t tell her otherwise. In my mind, you and I were still together.”

This was Gabriel’s own arrow, pointed back at her. He hadn’t

told Paulina that he was single, because in his mind, he wasn’t. The realization washed over her.

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“There’s no one else.” His voice was the soul of sincerity.

She averted her eyes. “What were you doing in front of a closed

coffee shop in the middle of the night?”

“I was working up the courage to ring your doorbell.” Gabriel

began twisting the platinum band on his left hand. “I had to convince Rachel to give me your address. She was understandably hesitant.”

Julia’s eyes dropped to his left hand. “Why are you wearing a

wedding ring?”

“Why do you think?” He pulled off the ring and held it out to her.

She recoiled.

“Read the inscription,” he urged.

Hesitantly, she took the ring and held it up to one of the candles.

Julianne — my Beloved is mine and I am hers.

A sick feeling entered her stomach, and she quickly returned it

to him. He replaced it on his left hand without a word.

“Why are you wearing a ring with my name on it?”

“You said that you didn’t want to talk.” His voice was gently re-

proving. “If you’re al owed to ask me questions, can I ask about Paul?”

She blushed and looked away. “He was there to pick up the

pieces.”

Gabriel closed his eyes. He was perilously close to giving in to his temper and saying something cutting, but that would only succeed

in pushing her further away.

He opened his eyes. “Forgive me. This ring has a mate, smaller

in size. I purchased them at Tiffany in Toronto on the day I bought the silver frame for Maia’s picture.

“I still think of you as my other half. My bashert. Despite what happened, there was never any question of me pursuing someone

else. I have been faithful to you since you told me who you were,

back in October.”

Julia suddenly found it very difficult to speak. “Gabriel — these

past few months, without a word, then tonight…”

He looked at her with compassion, his arms aching to hold her.

But she was too far away. “We don’t have to have this conversation now. Just — if you can stand it, please let me see you tomorrow.” He gave her a look filled with longing.

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She met his gaze briefly. “Okay.”

He exhaled loudly. “Good. I’ll speak to you tomorrow, then.

Rest well.”

She nodded, opening the door.

“Julianne?”

He stood in front of her, far too close. She looked up at him.

“Will you — let me kiss your hand?” His voice was wistful and

small, like a young boy.

She waited for him to kiss the back of her hand, then without

thinking she reached up and pressed her lips to his forehead. Sud-

denly, his arms were around her back, pulling her flush against him.

Although he had trouble thinking of anything other than Julianne

when he was kissing her, Gabriel focused his attention on trying to communicate with lips and mouth that he hadn’t betrayed her. That

he loved her.

When she kissed him back with equal passion, he moaned.

He made sure to be gentle, if not intense, and as her own move-

ments slowed, he began to nibble slightly at the fullness of her lower lip, before pressing closed mouthed kisses to both cheeks and finally, the end of her nose.

When he opened his eyes he saw a flood of emotions pass over

Julia’s pretty face.

He ran his fingers through her damp hair, once, twice, and gazed

down at her longingly. “I love you.”

She was silent as he walked through the door.

P

Gabriel’s kiss did nothing to strengthen Julia’s resolve, but she

would not consider it a mistake. She’d been curious about what it

would be like to kiss him again and was surprised at how familiar it was. In mere seconds he succeeded in causing her pulse to race and her throat to constrict.

She couldn’t deny that he loved her. She’d felt it. Even Gabriel,

with his polished manners and charm, couldn’t lie with his kiss.

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There was something different about him. He seemed softer,

somehow, more vulnerable. Yes, there was the occasional show of

temper and the old Professor Emerson, but she knew that Gabriel

had changed. She just didn’t know why.

By the following morning the power had been restored and Julia

was able to recharge her phone. She called the manager at Peet’s and explained that she was under the weather and would be taking the

weekend off. He wasn’t happy about it since it was the fourth of July weekend, but there was little he could do.

After a long hot shower, (a shower spent dreaming about Gabriel’s

lips and old, suppressed memories of the two of them together), Julia felt much, much better. And only a little worse. She sent a quick

email to Rachel, explaining that Gabriel had returned and declared his love for her. An hour later, her phone rang. She expected that it would be Rachel. Surprisingly, it was Dante Alighieri.

“How did you sleep?” Gabriel sounded cheerful.

“Well. And you?”

He paused. “Not as well as I used to — tolerably, I suppose.”

Julia laughed. This was the Professor Emerson she remembered.

“I want to show you my house,” he said.

“What, now?”

“Today, if you’re willing.” He sounded worried she might refuse.

“Where is it?”

“It’s on Foster Place, near Longfellow’s house. Ideal for a commute to Harvard. Not so convenient for BU.”

Julia was puzzled. “If it’s inconvenient for BU, then why did

you buy it?”

Gabriel cleared his throat. “I was thinking that — I was hoping that…” He struggled to find the right words. “It’s small but it has a beautiful garden. I’d like to know what you think of it.” He cleared his throat again, and she swore she could hear him tugging at his

shirt collar. “Of course, I could always move.”

She hummed in response, not sure what to say.

“Now that you’ve had a good night’s sleep, will you talk to me

a little?”

Julia had never heard Gabriel sound so nervous. “Of course. But

it isn’t something we can do over the phone.”

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“I need to pay a visit to campus to see my new office. It won’t

take long.”

“There’s no rush.”

“Yes, there is.” Now Gabriel’s voice was heated.

She sighed heavily. “I could come over later.”

“Come for dinner. I’ll pick you up at six thirty.”

“I’ll take a cab.”

Julia broke the awkward pause that followed with an explanation

that she needed to go.

“Fine,” said Gabriel stiffly. “If you wish to take a cab, that’s your prerogative.”

“I’m going to keep an open mind until we talk, and I’d like to

ask you to do that too.” Her tone was conciliatory.

Gabriel felt as if he were hanging on to his hopes by a very thin

thread. He was far from certain that she would take him back. And

even if she did, the old specter of jealously taunted him. He didn’t know how he would react if she revealed that she’d turned to Paul

in her grief and shared his bed.

God damned Angelfucker.

“Of course,” Gabriel said, his voice strained.

“I’m surprised you called me. Why didn’t you call me while you

were away?”

He was silent for a moment. “That’s a long story.”

“I’m sure it is. I’ll see you tonight.”

She hung up the phone, wondering what his story would include.

P

When Julia arrived at Gabriel’s new home, she surveyed it with

no little puzzlement. It was a two-story frame house with a simple, unadorned front, and it was painted a charcoal gray with darker trim.

There was almost no front yard to speak of and a small, paved car

pad to the house’s right.

In an email that included directions, Gabriel had sent Julia a link to the original real estate listing for the property. The asking price 323

Sylvain Reynard

had been over a million dollars. The house had been built prior to World War II. In fact, the entire street had been a neighborhood of Italian immigrants who built the small, two bedroom houses in the

nineteen twenties. Now the street was populated with old-moneyed

yuppies, Harvard professors, and Gabriel.

As she took in the tidy simplicity of the building, Julia shook her head. So this is what a million dollars can buy you in Harvard Square.

As she prepared to knock on the front door, she was surprised

to find a note on it in Gabriel’s hand.

Julianne,

Please meet me in the garden.

G.

She sighed, and just like that she knew that tonight was going to

be very, very difficult. She walked around the side of the house and down the little paved driveway, gasping when she rounded the corner.

There were flowers and greenery, wisps of sea grass and elegantly

trimmed boxwood, and in the very center of the garden stood what

looked like a Sultan’s tent. A fountain sat on the right side of the green space, featuring a marble statue of Venus. Underneath the fountain was a small pond filled with white and red Koi.

Julia walked toward the tent so she could peer inside. And what

she saw pained her.

In the tent was a low, square bed, exactly like the futon that

graced the terrace of the suite she’d shared with Gabriel in Florence.

In the suite where they’d made love for the first time. On the terrace where he fed her chocolates and strawberries and danced with her to Diana Krall under the Tuscan sky. The futon where he made love to

her the following morning. Gabriel had tried to reproduce the ambience of that terrace down to the very color scheme of the bedclothes.

The voice of Frank Sinatra seemed to float from somewhere

closer to the house, while almost every flat, fireproof surface held a tall, pillar candle. Ornate Moroccan lanterns were suspended from

crisscrossed wires overhead.

It was a fairy tale. It was Florence, and their apple orchard, and the wonders of an Arabian night. Unfortunately for Gabriel, the extravagant gesture begged the question: if he was resourceful enough 324

Gabriel’s Rapture

to construct a Moroccan caravan in his garden, why couldn’t he have told her he planned to return?

Gabriel saw her standing in his garden, and his heart leapt. He

wanted to pull her into his arms and press their lips together. But he could see from the set of her shoulders and the stiffness of her spine that such an act would be unwelcome. So he approached her carefully.

“Good evening, Julianne.” A silky voice caressed her ear as Gabriel leaned in from behind her.

She hadn’t heard him approach, so she shivered slightly. He

rubbed one arm and then the other, up and down, in an act that was supposed to be comforting but in reality caused a deep erotic flush to dance across the surface of her skin.

“I like the music,” she said, pulling away from him.

He extended his palm as an invitation. Cautiously, she placed

her hand in his. He pressed an unhurried kiss to her knuckles before releasing her.

“You’re stunning, as always.”

Gabriel’s eyes slowly drank in the sight of Julia in her plain black dress, her pale, shapely legs in a pair of black ballet flats, and the way the gentle whisper of wind blew a few strands of hair across her glossy, reddish lips as she turned to face him.

“Thank you.” She waited for him to comment on her shoes, for

his eyes rested on them a little longer than was polite. She’d worn the flats because they were comfortable and because she wished to

assert her independence. She knew he wouldn’t like them. Surpris-

ingly, however, he smiled.

Gabriel was a little more casually dressed in a white linen shirt

and khaki pants, with a navy linen jacket. His smile was perhaps his most decorative asset.

“The tent is beautiful.”

“Does it please you?” he whispered.

“You always ask me that.”

Gabriel’s smile faded slightly, but he resisted the urge to frown.

“You used to like the fact that I am a considerate lover.”

Their eyes met and Julia looked away. “It’s a lovely gesture, but

I would rather have had a letter from you or a telephone call three months ago.”

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It appeared as if he wanted to argue with her, but in an instant

his expression changed.

“Where are my manners,” he muttered. He offered his elbow,

escorting her to a small bistro table that was set up in a corner of the stone patio.

Small white lights shone down on the patio from the branches

of an obliging maple. Julia wondered if Gabriel had hired an exterior decorator just for the occasion. He pulled out her chair, and when she was seated, gently eased it closer to the table. She noticed that the centerpiece on the table was filled with orange and red gerbera daisies.

“How did you manage all of this?” Julia unfolded her napkin

and placed it in her lap.

“Rebecca is a wonder of New England industriousness.”

Julia gave him a questioning look, but her question was soon

answered when Gabriel’s housekeeper served dinner. Rebecca was tall and plain and wore her salt and pepper hair in a short bob. Her eyes, which were large and dark, sparkled with amusement. Julia divined

quickly that Gabriel had taken Rebecca into part of his confidence, at least as far as this evening was concerned.

Despite the elaborate décor and the perfect music, dinner was

a simple affair by Gabriel’s standards: lobster bisque; a pear, walnut, and Gorgonzola salad; steamed mussels with frites; and then finally and most gloriously, a blueberry tart with sour lemon ice cream.

Gabriel served her champagne, the same Veuve Clicquot he’d served the first time she dined at his apartment. That evening seemed so

long ago, even though it was less than a year.

They made small talk during their meal, discussing Rachel’s wed-

ding and Scott’s girlfriend and her son. Gabriel described the things he liked about his house and those he didn’t, promising Julia a tour.

Neither of them were in a hurry to begin discussing the events leading up to their separation.

“You aren’t drinking?” She noticed that he’d imbibed only Perrier

with his meal.

“I quit.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Why?”

“Because I was drinking too much.”

“Not when you were with me. You pledged not to get drunk

anymore.”

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“Precisely,” he said.

She looked at him carefully, at the way his eyes indicated there

was a very unpleasant experience behind his words. “But you enjoyed drinking.”

“I have an addictive personality, Julianne. You know this.” He

smoothly changed the subject to something more pleasant.

When Rebecca served dessert, he and Julia exchanged a look.

“No chocolate cake tonight?”

“Non, mon ange,” Gabriel breathed. “Although I’d love nothing more than to feed you again.”

Julia felt her cheeks grow red, and she knew it would be a poor

decision to go down that road with him before they had their conversation, but as he gazed at her with undisguised passion, she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“I’d like that,” she said, quietly.

Gabriel smiled as if the sun had just returned to the sky after

a protracted absence and quickly shifted his chair so he was seated next to her. Close. Very close. So close that she could feel his warm breath on her neck, which goose pimpled in anticipation.

Gabriel picked up Julia’s dessert fork and placed some pie and

ice cream on it and turned to face her.

As she gazed at him with longing, his breath caught in his throat.

“What is it?” She looked at him in alarm.

“I’d almost forgotten how lovely you are.” He traced the curve

of her cheekbone with his unencumbered hand and brought the

fork to her lips.

She closed her eyes and opened her mouth, and at that moment,

Gabriel’s heart soared. Yes, it was a little thing — almost inconsequen-tial if one were to consider what tales to tell a confidante. But Julia didn’t trust quickly or easily. The ease with which she made herself vulnerable to him made his heart beat quick and his blood pump fast.

She hummed at the mixture of flavors, opening her eyes.

He couldn’t help himself. He leaned closer so their mouths were

parted by mere inches and whispered, “May I?”

She nodded, and he pressed his lips to hers. She was sweetness

and light, gentleness and goodness, and the burning and searing goal 327

Sylvain Reynard

of all of his earthly hunts and fascinations. But she didn’t belong to him. So he kissed her gently, like he first kissed her in the orchard, with both hands tangling in her long, curled hair. Then he pul ed

back to watch her face.

A contented sigh escaped her ruby lips as she sat with eyes closed, floating.

“I love you,” he said.

Now her eyes were open. Her expression reflected an unnamed

emotion, but she didn’t say it back.

When dessert was well and truly over, Gabriel suggested they

take their espressos to the tent, dismissing Rebecca for the evening.

Night had fallen on this little patch of Eden, and like Adam himself, Gabriel led a blushing Eve to his bower.

She kicked off her shoes and curled up on the futon against

the cushions, nervously chewing her fingernails while Gabriel lit

the candles in the Moroccan lanterns. He took his time, adjusting

them so their light flickered over the futon seductively. Then he lit the other candles that were scattered throughout the tent. Finally, he lay on his back next to her, hands behind his head, angled so he could see her face.

“I’d like to talk about what happened,” she initiated.

Gabriel gave her his full attention.

“When you showed up outside my apartment I didn’t know

whether to hit you or kiss you.” Her voice was low.

“Didn’t you?” he whispered.

“I didn’t do either.”

“It was never your nature to be vindictive. Or cruel.”

She took a deep breath and began. She told him how it broke

her heart to have left message after message with him, only to have them unacknowledged. She told him about her surprise at finding

his apartment abandoned. She told him about the kindness of his

neighbor, and Paul, and Katherine Picton. She spoke of her continued sessions with Nicole.

Julia was too busy fussing with her espresso to notice how un-

settled he’d become. When she mentioned how the textbook he’d

passed to her had ended up on her shelf unopened, Gabriel cursed

Paul.

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Gabriel’s Rapture

“You aren’t allowed to curse him.” Her tone was sharp. “It wasn’t

his fault that you put your message in a textbook. Why didn’t you

choose a volume out of your personal library? I might have recog-

nized it.”

“I’d been ordered to stay away from you. If I’d put a volume from

my library in your mailbox, Jeremy would have noticed it. As it was, I chose a textbook and I placed it in your mailbox after hours.” He huffed in frustration. “Didn’t the title mean anything to you?”

“What title?”

“The title of the textbook: Marriage in the Middle Ages: Love, Sex, and the Sacred.”

“What should it have meant, Gabriel? For all I knew, you’d labeled me as your Héloise and left me. I didn’t have any reason to think otherwise and you didn’t leave me with one.”

He leaned forward, eyes flashing. “The textbook was the reason.

The title, the photo from the orchard, the image of St. Francis trying to save Guido da Montefeltro…” His voice cracked, and he paused,

in agony. “Didn’t you remember our conversation in Belize? I told

you I’d go to Hell to save you. And believe me, I did.”

“I didn’t know you’d sent me messages. I overlooked the textbook

because I didn’t know it was from you. Why didn’t you call me?”

“I couldn’t talk to you,” he whispered. “I was told that the Dean

would interview you prior to your graduation and that he would

ask if you’d heard from me. You’re a lovely woman, Julianne, but a terrible liar. I had to send messages in code.”

Julia’s surprise registered immediately on her face. “You knew

about the interview?”

“I knew about a great many things,” he said stoically. “But I

couldn’t tell. That’s the point.”

“Rachel told me not to despair.” She captured his gaze for a mo-

ment. “But I needed to hear those words from you. Our last night together, you had sex with me, but you wouldn’t talk to me. What

was I supposed to think?”

Tears overflowed her eyes. But before she could wipe them away

with her hand, Gabriel’s tugged her from her safe corner into his

outstretched arms. He pressed her to his chest and kissed her head, before wrapping his arms around her back.

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Somehow, the feel of his arms around her made her cry harder.

He squeezed her gently.

“My pride was my downfall. I thought I could court you while

you were my student and get away with it. I was wrong.”

“I thought you chose your job instead of me.” Julia’s voice was

filled with hurt. “When I discovered you’d moved out of your apartment…Why didn’t you tell me you were leaving?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Forgive me, Julianne. My goal was not to hurt you, I promise. I

regret everything that you described.” He kissed her forehead once again. “I need to tell you what happened. It’s a long story. And only you can tell me how it ends…”

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Chapter 45

Julia pulled away so she could see his face better, bracing herself for what was to come. Her sudden movement seemed to cause the

scent of her hair to waft over to him.

“Your hair is different,” he murmured.

“A little longer, perhaps.”

“It doesn’t smell of vanilla anymore.”

“I changed my shampoo.” She sounded curt.

“Why?” Gabriel shifted his body to eliminate the gap between

them.

“Because it reminded me of you.”

“Is that why you aren’t wearing your earrings?” he asked, finger-

ing her earlobe.

“Yes.”

He paused and gazed at her, his hurt evident.

She looked away.

“I love you, Julianne. No matter what you think of me or what

I did, I promise that I was only trying to protect you.”

She moved to lie on her side, careful not to touch him.

“I am your faithful one, Beatrice,” Gabriel quoted, his eyes brimming with emotion. “Please remember that when I tell you what

happened.”

He took a deep breath and said a silent prayer before beginning

his story.

“When you and I appeared before the hearing officers, my hope

was that we would say very little and force them to show what

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evidence they had. But it became clear that they weren’t going to

rest until they’d laid charges and punished us.

“I screwed up when I submitted Katherine’s grade for your work

to the Registrar. Since the administration was worried you’d been

awarded the grade because you were sleeping with me, they were

going to suspend your grade while they investigated further.”

“Could they do that?”

“It’s a provision listed in the policies governing academic behavior.

As long as the grade was incomplete, you wouldn’t be able to graduate.”

Julia blinked at Gabriel as understanding washed over her. “No

Harvard,” she whispered.

“No Harvard this year and probably no Harvard ever, since they

would have been suspicious as to why the University of Toronto was suspending your grade. Even if Harvard never learned the reason,

they have so many applications. Why should they give you a second

thought when they could admit someone with a spotless record?”

Julia sat very still, the weight of his words pressing down on her.

Gabriel scratched at his chin in agitation. “I was afraid the hearing officers were going to ruin your future. But it was my fault. I’m the one who persuaded you that it was safe to get involved with

me; I’m the one who invited you to Italy. I should have waited. My selfishness is what led to all this.”

He gazed into her eyes and lowered his voice. “I’m sorry I ruined

our last night together. I should have talked to you. But all I could think about was how worried I was. I never should have treated you the way I did.”

“I felt so alone the next morning.”

“It was the worst way for me to deal with my anxiety. But I hope

that you believe me when I tell you that it wasn’t just a…” He paused, stumbling. “A fuck to me. Every time we were together it was always, always done with love. I swear.”

Julia dropped her gaze to the futon. “For me too. There’s never

been anyone else, before or since.”

He closed his eyes for an instant, relief coursing through him.

Even though she’d felt angry and betrayed, she hadn’t followed her anger to another man’s arms. She hadn’t given up on him completely.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

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He took a deep breath before continuing. “When you confessed

to our relationship and I saw the Dean’s reaction, I knew we were

caught. My lawyer was prepared to stonewall, hoping that the com-

mittee would excuse me or hand down a ruling that I could challenge in court. But when you confessed, you provided the corroboration

the committee needed.”

“We had an agreement to show a united front. An agreement, Gabriel.” Julia’s voice grew heated.

“I acquiesced to you in good faith, Julianne. But I also promised

that I wouldn’t allow anyone to hurt you or to end your career. That promise takes precedence.”

“An agreement is a promise.”

Gabriel leaned forward. “They were threatening your future. Did

you really expect me to sit there and watch it happen?”

When she didn’t respond, he challenged her. “Did you sit there

and say nothing when they told you they were pursuing charges

against me?”

Her eyes flew to his. “You know I didn’t. I pleaded with them.

They wouldn’t listen.”

“Exactly.” His blue eyes bored into hers. “From whom do you

think I learned about self-sacrifice?”

She shook her head, not bothering to contradict him. “If we

broke the rules, then why didn’t the Dean try to punish both of us?”

“I’m the professor; I should have known better. And Professor

Chakravartty was on your side from the very beginning. She doesn’t think professor-student relationships can be consensual. And sadly for us, they found that old email of yours.”

“So it was my fault.”

Gabriel gently leaned over and brushed the back of his hand

against her cheek. “No. I persuaded you that we could break the

rules and get away with it. And then, instead of taking responsibility for my actions, I sat there behind my lawyer. You were the only one brave enough to tell the truth. And once you did, I had to confess.

“I agreed to accept their sanctions if they brought the investigation to a speedy conclusion. The hearing officers were only too glad to dispose of the matter without a lawsuit and they agreed, promising leniency.”

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Julia wore a pained expression.

“Unfortunately, their definition of lenience and mine were two

different things. I expected to be censured, not forced to take a leave of absence.”

He scrubbed at his face with his hands. “Jeremy was furious at

the prospect of losing me, even for a semester. I’d caused a scandal that would embarrass not only him but my colleagues and the other

students in the department. Christa was filing a lawsuit against the university too. It was a huge mess, and I was at the root of it.”

“We were at the root of it, Gabriel. I knew the rules, and I broke them too.”

He gave her a half-smile. “The rules are written in such a way as

to excuse the student because the professor is the one with the power.”

“The only power you had over me was love.”

He kissed her softly. “Thank you.”

Gabriel’s heart was full, almost to the brim. She hadn’t looked

back at their time together and viewed him the way the hearing of-

ficers did. She hadn’t recoiled when he kissed her. In fact, her lips had welcomed him. She gave him hope that by the end of his story,

she’d still be at his side.

“When they brought Jeremy in, I begged him to help us. I prom-

ised I’d do anything.”

“Anything?” Julia asked.

He shifted again. “I had no idea he was going to side with the

hearing officers and demand that I cease all contact with you. It was a rash promise made in a fit of desperation.”

Julia moved away from him. “What did he say?”

“He persuaded the committee to place me on administrative leave.

It was effectively a suspension, but they didn’t call it that in order to avoid tainting the department. I was also prohibited from supervising female graduate students for a term of three years.”

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

He pressed his lips together. “I was told to end things with you

immediately and cease all contact. They said if I violated this condition, the agreement would be void and they would re-open the investigation, into both of us.” He paused, seemingly struggling for words.

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“If they thought I was a victim, why would they threaten to

investigate me again?”

Gabriel’s blue eyes cooled. “The Dean suspected you were tell-

ing the truth — that our relationship was consensual and that I was trying to save your reputation. He wasn’t about to let us go off into the sunset together. That’s why I sent you the email.”

“That email was cruel.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows knitted together. “I know. But since I was

sending it from my university account to your university account, I assumed you’d realize it was all for show. Have I ever spoken to you like that before?”

She gave him a challenging look.

He winced. “I mean, have I spoken to you like that since I real-

ized who you were?”

“Could the university really demand that you stop talking to me?”

Gabriel shrugged. “They did. The threat of Christa’s lawsuit was

hanging over all of us. Jeremy seemed to think that if I took a leave of absence that he could convince Christa to drop the lawsuit. And he did. But once again, he said that if he found out I was still seeing you, he wouldn’t lift a finger to help me.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“That’s academia. Christa’s lawsuit would have damaged the de-

partment, possibly irreparably. Jeremy would have lost the ability to recruit top faculty and students because people would hear that it wasn’t a safe place to be. I didn’t want to be embroiled in a scandal any more than he did, and I certainly didn’t want you hauled into

a courtroom as a witness.”

Gabriel cleared his throat, clearly struggling. “I agreed. Jeremy

and the Dean made it clear that they would interview you at the

end of the semester to see if I’d kept my promise. I had no choice.”

Julia toyed with the folds of her dress. “Why didn’t you tell me?

Why didn’t you demand a recess so you could explain what was

happening? We were a couple, Gabriel. We were supposed to work

together.”

He swallowed thickly. “What would have happened if I’d taken

you aside and explained what I was about to do?”

“I wouldn’t have let you go through with it.”

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“Exactly. I wasn’t going to allow you to lose everything because

of my failures. I couldn’t live with that. I only hoped that you would forgive me — someday.”

Julia was stunned.

“You were willing to risk everything to save me, thinking that I

might not forgive you?”

“Yes.”

Julia felt her eyes grow teary, and she swiped at them blindly. “I wish you could have told me.”

“So do I, but I promised Jeremy that I’d stay away. Before he

entered the hallway, I tried to speak to you, but John and Soraya

kept interrupting.”

“I know, but — ”

He interrupted her. “If I’d told you it was only temporary, they

would have realized from your expression. They would have known

I had no intention of following through on my promise. I’d given

my word.”

“But you planned to break it.”

“Yes. Yes, I did.” He was quiet again for a moment, looking off

into the distance.

“That doesn’t make sense, Gabriel. You made all kinds of promises

to them, but you broke them. You put the textbook in my box, you

wrote me a message…”

“I planned to do more. I was going to email you, saying that it

was only until the end of the semester. Once you’d graduated and

I’d resigned, we would renew our relationship. That is, if you stil wanted me.”

Gabriel’s voice dropped. “I knew you would be watched. And

that the Dean would interview you to find out if I’d kept my promise.

I worried about your ability to lie.”

“That’s bullshit,” said Julia fiercely. “You could have sent me an email and explained that I needed to pretend to be heartbroken. I’m not a great actress, but I can act a little.”

“There were other — factors.”

She closed her eyes. “When I fell, you looked at me as if you

hated me. You looked disgusted.”

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“Julia, please.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to his chest.

“That look was not meant for you. Any disgust I felt was directed at the hearing and myself. That look was not meant for you, I swear.”

Julia shed more than a few tears at that moment, the consequence

of shock and anxiety and a measure of relief at having her questions answered. But some of the most important questions remained.

“I hate that I’ve made you cry again,” Gabriel said ruefully, run-

ning a hand up and down her back to comfort her.

Julia wiped her eyes. “I need to go home.”

“You can stay with me tonight.” He glanced down at her cautiously.

She was conflicted. Staying with him could possibly undercut

all the things she had yet to say, but running back to her cold, dark apartment seemed cowardly. As always, she knew that once she allowed herself to curl into his side, her body and heart would drag her mind along with them.

“I should go.” She sighed in defeat. “But I can’t bring myself to

leave right now.”

“Then stay — in my arms.” He kissed her forehead, murmuring

his love against her skin.

Slowly, he extricated himself from her embrace and retrieved

a couple of blankets, pausing to blow out the candles as he did so.

He left the tea lights lit in the Moroccan lamps overhead, admiring the play of light and color against the walls of the tent. The very air shimmered.

They made a nest together in the center of the futon. Gabriel

lay on his back with his beloved at his side. He did nothing to stifle the deep sigh of contentment that escaped his lips as he wrapped his arm about her shoulders.

“Gabriel?”

“Yes?” He stroked her hair slowly, reveling in the feel of the

silkiness of the strands as they slipped through his fingers. He tried to savor her new, unfamiliar scent but found himself mourning the

loss of the old one.

“I — missed you.”

“Thank you.” He squeezed her tightly as a feeling of cautious

relief coursed through him.

“I used to lie awake at night, wishing you were with me.”

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Gabriel’s eyes watered at the sound of her vulnerability and her

courage. If he ever had a moment’s doubt that he would love and

admire her forever, no matter whether she chose him or not, that

doubt faded away like a wisp of smoke.

“Me too.”

She hummed to herself and within minutes, the two weary, for-

mer lovers were sound asleep.

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Chapter 46

Julia opened her eyes and saw bright July sunlight streaming in

through the open door of the tent. She was curled up under two

cashmere blankets that had been lovingly tucked around her. She was alone. Were it not for the fact that she knew that the tent belonged to Gabriel, she would have thought that she’d dreamed the previous evening. Or that she’d woken up to a new dream.

As she got out of bed, she found a note next to her pillow.

Darling,

You were sleeping so peacefully that I didn’ t want to disturb you. I’ll ask Rebecca to make waffles for breakfast because

I know you like them. Falling asleep in your arms again

reminded me that I was only half a person in your absence.

You make me whole.

With love,

Gabriel.

Julia couldn’t deny the fact that a variety of emotions came upon

her as she read the note, like a symphony of different instruments.

Perhaps the most dominant feeling was that of relief.

Gabriel loved her. Gabriel had returned.

But forgiveness and reconciliation were two different things, and

she knew that although other forces had been at work to effect their separation, she and Gabriel each bore responsibility for the situation in which they currently found themselves. Julia didn’t want to run back into his arms only to escape the pain of their separation; Sylvain Reynard

that would be like taking a pill to kill a pain without investigating its root causes.

She found her shoes and slowly walked across the garden, retriev-

ing her purse before entering the back door. Rebecca was already at work in the small kitchen, preparing breakfast.

“Good morning.” She greeted Julia with a smile.

“Good morning.” Julia motioned toward the staircase that led to

the second floor. “I was just going to use the bathroom.”

Rebecca wiped her hands on her apron.

“I’m afraid Gabriel is in it.”

“Oh.”

“Why don’t you knock on the door? He might be finished.”

The thought of running into Gabriel, damp from the shower,

wrapped in a towel, made Julia’s skin grow pink.

“Um, I’ll wait. May I?” She gestured to the kitchen sink and, with Rebecca’s permission, proceeded to wash her hands. When they were

dried, she removed a hair elastic from her purse and pulled her hair into a ponytail.

Rebecca invited her to sit down at the small, round kitchen table.

“This house isn’t very convenient with only one bathroom. I end up having to climb those stairs several times a day. Even my little house has two bathrooms.”

Julia was surprised. “I thought that you lived here.”

Rebecca laughed as she retrieved a pitcher of freshly squeezed

orange juice from the refrigerator. “I live in Norwood. I used to live with my mother, but she passed away a few months ago.”

“I’m sorry.” Julia gave Rebecca a sympathetic look as she poured

orange juice into two wine glasses.

“She had Alzheimer’s,” said Rebecca simply before returning to

her cooking.

Julia watched as she plugged in an electric waffle maker and

proceeded to wash and hull a basket of fresh strawberries and whip some cream. Gabriel had planned the breakfast well.

“It’s going to be an adjustment to keep house for a professor after looking after my mother. He’s a bit particular, but I like that. Did you know that he’s lending me books? I’ve just started reading Jane 340

Gabriel’s Rapture

Eyre. I’ve never read it before. He says that as long as I keep cooking I can keep borrowing books. Finally, I have a chance to further my education and use everything I learned from years of watching the Food Network.”

“He’s lending you books from his personal library?” Julia sounded

incredulous.

“Yes. Isn’t that nice? I don’t know the professor very well, but I’m already fond of him. He reminds me of my son.”

Julia sipped her orange juice and began to eat her breakfast, urged as she was not to wait for Gabriel’s arrival.

“I don’t know why he bought this house when the kitchen is so

small and there’s only one bathroom.” She spoke between bites of a cinnamon flavored waffle.

Rebecca wore a knowing smile. “He wanted to live in Harvard

Square, and he liked the garden. He said that it reminded him of his parents’ place back home. He plans to renovate the house to make it more comfortable, but he refused to book a single contractor until you gave your approval.”

“My approval?” Julia’s fork clattered to the floor.

Rebecca efficiently handed her another one. “He might have

said something about selling it if you didn’t like it. Although given the language I heard coming from upstairs this morning, I think he has decided to begin his renovations immediately.”

She passed a plate of crispy bacon to Julia. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed this, but the professor can be a little intense.”

Julia laughed loudly. “You have no idea.”

She was able to enjoy not one but two waffles before the sound

of Gabriel and his Italian shoes came thumping down the stairs.

“Good morning,” he greeted her, kissing the top of her head.

“Good morning.” Acutely aware of Rebecca’s presence, Gabriel

and Julia made polite small talk for a moment or two before Julia

excused herself to visit the bathroom.

With one look at her face and hair in the mirror, she realized that she needed to have a shower. And that’s when she noticed a shopping bag placed neatly on the corner of the vanity.

Inside the bag she found bottles of her old brand of vanilla

shampoo and shower gel, along with a new lavender-colored poof.

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Even more surprisingly, she found a pale yellow summer dress with

a matching cardigan. It took a moment or two for her to overcome

the sudden, almost overwhelming feeling that passed over her. But

she swallowed it back and showered and dressed, making herself

presentable.

She was grateful to have clean clothes to wear but slightly irritated at Gabriel’s presumption. She wondered if she’d find lingerie in her size hanging in his closet. She wondered if, when he moved the contents of his condo, he kept all the clothes and items she’d left behind.

She swept her hair behind her ears. Grace’s earrings were hidden

in the back of her underwear drawer with a few other precious things, in her apartment. She knew that putting them away, although it

seemed necessary when he left, had injured Gabriel deeply.

They’d wounded each other, and both were in need of forgive-

ness and healing. But Julia couldn’t decide what path would be the best one to take in order for her to mend. The obvious choices in

life aren’t always the correct ones.

When she finally came downstairs, Rebecca was cleaning up the

kitchen and Gabriel was in the garden. She found him sitting in a

chair under the shade of a large umbrella.

“Are you all right?” she asked, for his eyes were closed.

He opened his eyes and smiled. “I am now. Join me?” He ex-

tended his hand, and she took it, settling herself in the chair adjacent to him.

“That color suits you,” he said, appraising her yellow dress with

unconcealed delight.

“Thank you for going shopping.”

“What would you like to do today?”

Julia tugged the hem of her dress to cover her knees. “I think we

should finish our conversation.”

He nodded, silently renewing his prayer. He didn’t want to lose

her. And he knew that her reaction to the next part of his story might bring about just that.

“I know you remember our conversation in the hallway, after

the hearing. When John was rude to you, I wanted to break off his

finger and feed it to him.”

“Why?”

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“I don’t think you comprehend the depth of my feeling for you.

It goes beyond wanting to be near you, or to protect you. I want you to be happy, and I want you to be treated you with respect.”

“You can’t break off people’s fingers when they’re rude to me.”

He made a show of stroking his chin thoughtfully. “I suppose not.

What can I do? Strike them with the collected works of Shakespeare?”

“In one sturdy volume? Of course.”

They shared a laugh before falling silent for a moment.

“I wanted to communicate what had happened behind closed

doors, but I was ordered not to talk to you. That’s why I spoke in code. Except I stupidly quoted Abelard, forgetting that you and I had different interpretations of his relationship with Héloise. I should have quoted Dante, Shakespeare, Milton, anyone.” He shook his head.

“You were so angry. You accused me of fucking you. Julianne…”

Gabriel’s voice broke as he pronounced her name. “Did you really

think so lowly of me? To think that was how I would choose to say

good-bye?”

Julia looked away, avoiding the intensity of his gaze. “What

was I supposed to think? You wouldn’t talk to me. You left the next morning without leaving a note. And then at the hearing, suddenly

it was over.”

“I didn’t trust myself to speak with words. When I made love to

you, I thought you understood what I was trying to say — that we’re one. That we’ve always been one.”

“You were talking about our conversation in the hallway after

the hearing,” she prompted, eager to change the subject. “I don’t

understand how they could have forced you to leave the city.”

“They couldn’t, really. Jeremy simply wanted my word that I’d

stop seeing you.”

She folded her arms in front of her. “Then why did you leave?”

“Jeremy discovered I broke my promise before we exited the

building. He demanded I break things off with you and swear on

my honor that I would stay away from you. I’d already told him I’d do anything if he helped us. I had no choice.”

Julia thought back to her exit interview with the Dean and Pro-

fessor Martin, just before graduation. “Why did Jeremy think you

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broke your promise? You wouldn’t talk to me or answer my messages.

You sent me an email telling me it was over.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I’d hoped you’d read between the lines and

realize it was just for the administration. I’d sent you another email before that from my Gmail account, saying it was only temporary.”

“No, you didn’t.”

He retrieved his phone. Scrolling through a few screens, he settled on something. Then he fixed distressed and haunted eyes on hers.

“After the hearing, I ducked into the men’s room and quickly

sent you an email.” He gently took her hand. “Here,” he said, giving her the phone.

Julia quickly glanced at the screen.

Beatrice, I love you. Never doubt that. Trust me, please. G.

She blinked several times, trying to assimilate what she saw typed in black and white with what she’d experienced. “I don’t understand.

I didn’t receive this.”

Gabriel gave her a tortured expression. “I know.”

She looked at the screen again and saw that the date and time

of the email corresponded with Gabriel’s story. But the addressee

of the email was not her. In fact, the actual recipient was someone entirely different.

J.H. Martin.

Julia’s eyes widened as the magnitude of Gabriel’s error suddenly

became very, very clear. Instead of sending the email to Julianne H.

Mitchell, he’d sent it to Jeremy H. Martin, the Chair of the Department of Italian Studies.

“Oh my God,” she breathed.

He plucked the phone from her hand, muttering curses. “Every

time I tried to do something for you, it backfired. I tried to save you, and the hearing officers were suspicious. I tried to give you a clue in conversation, and I made you feel like I’d abandoned you. I tried to email you, and I sent the email to the very person who’d forbidden me to contact you. Honestly, Julia, were it not for the fact that I hoped that someday we would be having this conversation, I would

have stepped out into rush hour traffic on Bloor Street and ended it.”

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“Don’t say things like that. Don’t even think it.”

Julia’s sudden show of fierceness pleased him, but he found him-

self back-pedaling quickly. “Losing you was a low point for me. But suicide isn’t an option I’d entertain again.” He gave her a look that seemed to signify much more than he could say at that moment.

“Jeremy was furious. He’d put his career and his department on

the line to help me and I’d gone behind his back two minutes later.

Now he had proof, in writing, that I was breaking my agreement

with the committee. I had no choice but to do whatever he said. If he sent my email to the Dean, the repercussions would have been

devastating for both of us.”

At that moment, Gabriel and Julia were interrupted by Rebecca,

who joined them on the patio, carrying a pitcher of homemade lem-

onade garnished with a few frozen raspberries that floated delicately in the cloud of yellow. She served their drinks with an encouraging smile and vanished back into the house.

Gabriel drank greedily, enjoying his reprieve.

“So?” prompted Julia, sipping her lemonade.

“Jeremy told me to stay away from you. I had no choice. He held

Damocles’s sword in his hand.”

“He let you go?”

“With a handshake and a promise.” Gabriel grimaced as the

memory of that dreadful conversation haunted him. “He showed

me mercy. Then more than ever I felt obligated to keep my word. I

resolved not to contact you directly until you were already assured your place at Harvard.”

Julia shook her head stubbornly. “But what about me, Gabriel?

You made a lot of promises to me. Didn’t you think about keeping

them?”

“Of course. Before I left Toronto, I put the textbook in your

mailbox. I thought you’d find the passage in Abelard’s letter and read what I wrote on the back of the photograph.”

“But I didn’t realize it was from you. I didn’t even look at it until the night you came to see me. That’s why I was running outside. I

didn’t have an internet connection in my apartment and I wanted

to email you.”

“What would you have said?”

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“I don’t know. You have to understand that I thought you’d had

enough of me. That you’d decided I wasn’t worth the trouble.” Tears sprang to Julia’s dark eyes, and she brushed them aside.

“I’m the only one in this relationship who was never worth the

trouble. I knew I’d put myself in a situation in which I was careless with your heart. But it wasn’t done to hurt you. It was pride and bad judgment and mistake after mistake.” He looked down at his hands

and began to turn the wedding ring around his finger.

“Katherine Picton tried to help me. She said she’d see that the

university left you alone during my absence and that she would do

everything she could to help you graduate on time. She mentioned

that an old friend of hers had left the Department of Romance Studies at Boston University in order to take a position at UCLA. She

wanted my permission to nominate me as his replacement. I asked

her to go ahead.

“I interviewed for the position, and while I waited for their decision, I went to Italy. I had to do something to shake myself out of my depression before I did something I would regret.”

Julia’s stomach suddenly tightened. “Something you would

regret?”

“Not women. The mere idea of being with someone else made

me sick. I was more worried about other — vices.”

“Before you go any further, I need to tell you something.” Her

voice was stronger and more determined than the will behind it.

Gabriel began to watch her carefully, wondering what in the

world she was about to reveal.

“When I told you that my relationship with Paul didn’t go beyond

friendship, what I said was true. Technically.”

“Technically?” Gabriel’s eyebrows flew up and his voice lowered

to a growl.

“He wanted more. He told me he loved me. And we — kissed.”

Gabriel was silent for a moment or two, and Julia watched as

his knuckles whitened.

“Is Paul who you want?”

“He was a friend to me when I needed one. But I never had

romantic feelings for him. I think you know this already, but you

ruined me for other men when I was seventeen.” Her voice trembled.

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“But you kissed him.”

“Yes, I did.” Julia leaned over and with a gentle hand, brushed a

lock of hair away from Gabriel’s forehead. “But that’s all. I had no idea you were coming back to me, but I still turned him down.” She withdrew her hand. “Not because I wouldn’t have had a good life

with him. But because he wasn’t you.”

“I’m sure that distressed him.” Gabriel sounded sarcastic.

“I broke his heart,” said Julia, her shoulders hunching. “And I

took no pleasure in doing so.”

The sight of Julia’s obvious discomfort tugged at him, but he

couldn’t disguise the relief at her admission that he had no rivals in her affection. He squeezed her shoulder before he spoke.

“I was worried that if we had any contact and Paul found out

about it, he’d run and tell Jeremy.”

“He wouldn’t have done that. He was good to me, even after I

broke his heart.” Julia smoothed imaginary wrinkles out of her yellow dress. “I know you said you were faithful, and I’m not questioning you on that. But did anyone — kiss you?”

“No.” He smiled ruefully. “I’d make a good Dominican or Je-

suit, don’t you think? With my new virtue of celibacy? Although I

discovered during our separation that I don’t have the disposition to be a Franciscan.”

Julia gave him a quizzical look.

“That’s a story for another day.”

She squeezed his hand in affection and withdrew it, silently

willing him to finish his story.

“If I wasn’t offered the position at BU, I was going to resign my

job in Toronto. All I had to do was keep myself together until after graduation.

“I wanted to feel close to you, to remember a happier time, so I

went to Italy. Truthfully, Julianne, those days with you in Florence and Umbria were the happiest days of my life.” He averted his eyes.

“I even went to Assisi.”

“To become a Franciscan?” She smirked.

“Hardly. I visited the Basilica and I thought I saw you.”

He looked over at her hesitantly, wondering if she would think

that he was disturbed. “Your doppelgänger led me to the lower church and down to the crypt, to the tomb of St. Francis.

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“At first, I stared at the young woman, wishing she was you. Wish-

ing I hadn’t made so many mistakes. I was confronted by my own

failures. My sin. I’d made an idol of you. I’d worshipped you, like a pagan. Then when I lost you, I was in danger of losing everything. I told myself I needed you to save me, that I was nothing without you.

“I began to see how I’d been given chance after chance. Through

no goodness of my own, I’d been given grace and love. And I’d thrown it away or treated it cheaply. I didn’t deserve the family who adopted me. I didn’t deserve Maia, who was the best part of my relationship with Paulina. I didn’t deserve to survive the drugs and graduate from Harvard. I didn’t deserve you.”

He paused and brushed at his eyes again, but this time the

moisture didn’t abate.

“Grace isn’t something we deserve, Gabriel,” Julia said softly. “It comes from love. And God wraps the world in second chances and

sticky little leaves and mercy, even though some people don’t want them.”

He kissed the back of her hand. “Precisely.

“In the crypt of the Basilica, something happened. I realized you

couldn’t save me. And I found — peace.”

“Sometimes we search for grace until it catches us.”

“How are you not an angel?” he breathed. “Whatever happened

to me, it made me want to be good. My experience caused me to

focus on God, but also to love you more. I’ve always been attracted to your goodness, Julianne. But I believe I love you more deeply

now than before.”

She nodded as her eyes suddenly blurred with salt water.

“I should have told you that I loved you sooner. I should have

asked you to marry me. I thought I knew what was best for you. I

thought that we had all the time in the world.”

Julia tried to speak, but her voice caught in her throat.

“Please tell me that it isn’t too late, Julianne. Please tell me I haven’t lost you forever.”

She stared at him for a moment, and put her arms around him.

“I love you, Gabriel. I never stopped. We both made mistakes — with our relationship, with the university, with each other. But I hoped that you would come back to me. That you still loved me.”

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She kissed him on the lips, and Gabriel felt an overflowing of

joy mixed with guilt.

He was embarrassed, she could tell. But Julia also knew that his

damp eyes were the result of a myriad of things — exhaustion and

frustration, and the pain that lingers from a prolonged depression.

“Then you’ll stay?” His voice was soft.

She hesitated just long enough for him to feel worried.

“I want more than what we had before,” she said.

“More than I can give you?”

“Not necessarily, but I’ve changed over these past few month, and

I see that you have too. The question is, where do we go from here?”

“Then tell me what you want. Tell me and I’ll give it to you.”

She shook her head. “I want us to figure things out together.

And that will take time.”

P

Soon it was too warm to sit outside, so Gabriel and Julia returned to the house and settled themselves in the living room. He reclined on the leather sofa, while Julia made herself comfortable in one of the red velvet chairs.

“Should we address the elephant in the room?” she asked.

He nodded, suddenly tense.

“Um, I’ll start. I want to get to know you again. I want to be

your partner.”

“I want you to be a good deal more than that,” whispered Gabriel.

Julia shook her head vehemently. “It’s too soon. You took away

my choices, Gabriel. You have to stop doing that or we aren’t going to get very far.”

His face fell.

“What is it?” she asked, dreading his answer.

“I don’t regret trying to save your career. I wish we could have

come to a consensus about it. But when I saw you in danger, I reacted.

And what’s more, so would you if I were in danger.”

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Julia felt her anger rise. “So this whole conversation, your apologies, mean nothing?”

“Of course not! I should have talked to you before I did anything.

But if you expect me to be the sort of man who watches the woman he loves lose her dreams, then I can’t meet your expectations. I’m sorry.”

Julia flushed a brilliant red. “So we’re right back where we started?”

“I didn’t hold it against you when you went out of your way to

protect me from Christa, or from the committee. I didn’t hold your harassment email against you, even though we both agree it was a

mistake. Can’t you give me the same consideration? Can’t you give

me grace, Julianne? Your grace?”

Despite his pleading tone, Julia wasn’t listening. At that moment, all she heard was Gabriel discounting her objections. Again.

She shook her head and walked to the door.

Here was the fork in the road, where the paths diverged. She

could walk through the door, and everything with Gabriel would be

over. There would be no third chance. Or she could stay, knowing

that he refused to see his damned heroics in front of the committee as anything problematic.

She hesitated.

“Let me love you, Julianne. The way that you should be loved.”

He stood behind her, his lips vibrating against her ear. She could feel the warmth of his body radiating through her clothes and against her back.

“I am your faithful one, Beatrice. Of course I want to protect

you. Nothing will change that.”

“I would rather have had you than Harvard.”

“Now you can have both.”

She turned around. “At what cost? Don’t tell me that our situa-

tion didn’t damage us, possibly irreparably.”

He brushed her hair over one shoulder and pressed his lips to

the bare side of her neck. “Forgive me. I promise I won’t rob you of your dignity or our partnership. But I won’t stand by and watch you get hurt when I can prevent it. Don’t make me to revert to being a selfish bastard.”

In stubborn annoyance, Julia took a step toward the door, but

Gabriel caught her arm.

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“In a perfect world, there would always be communication and

consultation between partners. But we don’t live in that world. There are emergencies and dangerous, vindictive people. Is my desire to

keep you from harm so great a sin that you would leave me over it?”

When she remained silent, he continued. “I will do my utmost

to make decisions with you and not for you. But I make no apologies for wanting you to be safe and happy. I won’t be beholden to

the rule that I have to consult you before I act in cases of emergency.

“You want me to treat you like an equal. I want the same treatment.

That means that you need to trust me to make the best decision I can, given the information I have, without being omniscient. Or perfect.”

“I’d rather have you alive and carrying your shield than have you

dead and covered by it.” She sounded obstinate.

Gabriel laughed. “I think the battle of Thermopylae is behind

us, darling. But I share your sentiment and would ask the same of

you. My little warrior.”

He kissed her neck again. “Take my ring.” He quickly slipped the

wedding ring from his left hand and held it over her right shoulder.

“I wore this to signify the fact that my heart, my life was yours.”

She hesitantly took the ring from his hand and slipped it on

one of her thumbs.

“I’ll sell this damn house. I only bought it to be close to you. But I can find an apartment until we choose a home together.”

“You just moved in. And I know you love the garden.” Julia sighed.

“Then tell me what you want. We can take our time without

making promises about the future. But please forgive me. Teach me, and I promise I will be your most willing student . ”

When she was silent and unmoving for several minutes, Gabriel

took her hand, leading her from the living room upstairs to his

bedroom.

“What are you doing?” she asked as they approached the door.

“I need to hold you in my arms, and I think that you need to be

held. That damn sofa is too narrow for both of us. Please.” He led her to the bed and positioned himself on his back with open arms,

inviting her to wrap herself around him.

She hesitated. “What about Rebecca?”

“She won’t disturb us.”

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Julia was unwilling to return to his bed simply because he invited her, and so she looked around for something, anything, to distract him.

“What are these?” She pointed at what looked like two groupings

of large picture frames that were leaning against one of the walls and covered by a sheet.

“Look at them.”

Julia crouched down on the hardwood floor and removed the

sheet. There were about ten large photographs, stacked in two groups of five, all black and white. All featured Julia. Some included Gabriel.

She hadn’t seen most of them before as they had been framed after

their separation. There were photographs from Belize, from Italy, and posed photographs that had served as part of her Christmas present to Gabriel. All were startlingly beautiful and amative.

“It was difficult for me to look at them when I thought I’d lost

you. But as you can see, I kept them.”

Gabriel watched as Julia looked through the photographs once

more before studying his favorite, a picture of her lying on her stomach on a bed in Belize.

“What happened to the old ones? The ones you had before you

met me?”

“Long gone. I didn’t need or want them anymore.”

She placed the sheet over the pictures before walking to the bed.

She looked conflicted.

Gabriel reached out his hand. “Relax. I just want to hold you.”

She allowed herself to be pulled into his arms so she could nestle against his chest.

“That’s better,” he murmured, kissing her forehead. “I want to

earn your trust and your respect. I want to be your husband.”

Julia was quiet for a moment, holding her breath, as his words

sunk into her consciousness. “I want us to take things slowly. No

more talk of marriage.”

“Fortunately, I can wait.” He kissed her once again.

This time, the kiss escalated. Hands roamed to find purchase on

muscles and curves, mouths connected determinedly, punctuated by

sighs and almost breathless moans, hearts began to beat faster. It was a 352

Gabriel’s Rapture

kiss to mark a reunion, to pledge the continuation of fidelity and love.

Gabriel kissed her to show her that he loved her, that he was sorry.

Julia kissed him back to tell him that she could never give her

heart to anyone else. That she was hopeful their shared imperfections, once acknowledged and explored, could be ameliorated in order to

provide both of them with a healthy, happy life.

She pulled away first. She could hear his quickened breathing,

and it cheered her that they still had this spark between them.

“I don’t expect our relationship to be perfect. But there are some things we need to work out and whether that takes a therapist or not, I know it’s going to take time.”

He met her gaze. “I agree. I want to be able to court you as I

was unable to back in Toronto. I want to hold your hand as we walk down the street. I’d like to take you to the symphony and kiss you on your front steps.”

Julia laughed. “We were lovers, Gabriel. You have photographs

of the two of us in bed together, just over there. Would you really be satisfied with simply courting me?”

He wove their fingers together. “I want the chance to make things

up to you — to treat you the way I should have treated you all along.”

“You were always very generous in bed,” she deflected.

“But selfish in other ways. Which is why I won’t make love to

you until I regain your trust.”

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Chapter 47

“C ome again?”

At least, that’s what Julia wanted to say, but given the context

she held her tongue. Somehow, her remark didn’t quite seem conso-

nant with his declaration.

“I’m worried that if we have sex, it will short circuit the kind of changes we need to make.”

“So you want to wait?”

He gave her a scorching look. “No, Julianne, I don’t want to wait. I want to make love to you now and for the rest of the week. I know we should wait.”

Her eyes widened as she realized that he was serious.

He kissed her tenderly. “If we’re going to be partners, there has

to be trust. If you don’t trust me with your mind, how can you trust me with your body?”

“I think you said that once before.”

“We’ve come full circle.” He cleared his throat. “And so there isn’t a misunderstanding, when I say trust, I mean completely. I’m hopeful that in time your anger will disappear and you’ll forgive me. I’m hopeful that we’ll be able to work out our need to protect one another, without causing another crisis.” He looked over at her expectantly.

“I should have waited until you were no longer my student before

we became involved. I told myself that because we weren’t sleeping together, we weren’t breaking any rules. But I was wrong. And you’re the one who had to pay the price.” He searched her eyes. “You don’t believe me.”

“Oh, no. I believe you. But the Professor Emerson I knew and

loved wasn’t exactly a proponent of abstinence.”

Gabriel’s Rapture

He frowned. “Perhaps you’re forgetting how our relationship

began. We abstained the night we met and a good many nights

afterward.”

She kissed his mouth repentantly. “Of course. I’m sorry.”

He rolled onto his side, looking into her eyes. “I’m absolutely

aching to feel you in my arms, to be joined with you, body and soul.

But when I’m inside you, I want you to know that I will never leave you. That you are mine and I am yours, forever.” His voice grew

rough. “That we’re married.”

“Come again?”

“I want to marry you. When I make love to you again, I want

to be your husband.”

When she gaped at him, he continued quickly. “Richard showed

me the kind of man I want to become — a man who spends the rest

of his life loving one woman. I want to make vows to you before

God and stand in front of our families and make promises to you.”

“Gabriel, I can’t even contemplate marrying you. I need to learn

how to be with you again. And frankly, I’m still angry.”

“I understand that, and my intention is not to rush you. Do you

remember the first time we made love?”

She felt her cheeks flame. “Yes.”

“What do you remember?”

She paused, a faraway look in her eyes. “You were very intense,

but kind. You planned everything, even down to that ridiculous

cranberry juice.

“I remember that you were arched over me, looking into my

eyes while you moved, and you said that you loved me. I’ll never

forget those moments for as long as I live.” She hid her face against his soap-scented neck.

“Are you shy now?” he asked, tracing the symmetry of her jaw

with a single finger.

“A little.”

“Why? You’ve seen me naked. I’ve worshipped every beautiful

inch of you.”

“I miss the connection we had. I haven’t felt whole without it.”

“I haven’t either. But do you think you could make love to me

when you don’t trust me? You forget, my love, that I know you. You 355

Sylvain Reynard

are not the type of woman to place your body where your heart will not go.

“Do you remember our last time together? You told me that you

felt like I’d fucked you. The next time I have you naked in my bed, I want you to know without doubt that our union is born of love

and not lust.”

“That goal can be realized without getting married,” she huffed.

“Perhaps. But if you don’t think you can ever trust me enough

to marry me, maybe you should let me go.”

Julia’s eyes widened. “Is that an ultimatum?”

“No. But I want to prove myself to you, and you need time to heal.”

He examined her expression carefully. “I need something permanent.”

She gaped at him. “You want something permanent or you need something permanent?”

He shifted his weight on the bed. “Both. I want you to be my

wife, but I also want to be the kind of man I should have been before.”

“Gabriel, you are always trying to win me. When are you going

to stop?”

“Never.”

She threw up her hands in frustration. “Withholding sex so I’ll

marry you is manipulative.”

Gabriel’s expression brightened considerably. “I’m not with-

holding sex. If you were declaring that you weren’t ready to sleep with me and I tried to pressure you, I’d be a manipulative jackass.

Shouldn’t I be allowed to wait to have sex until our relationship is repaired, and to have that choice respected? Or does ‘no means no’

only apply to women?”

“I wouldn’t pressure you if you had an objection to having sex,”

Julia sputtered. “You were more than patient with me when I wasn’t ready to sleep with you. But what about make-up sex? Isn’t that

customary?”

He brought his face very close to hers. “Make-up sex?” The heat

of his gaze almost scorched her skin. “Is that what you want?” his voice rasped.

Welcome back, Professor Emerson.

“Um — yes?”

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Gabriel’s Rapture

He took a single finger and traced her trembling lower lip. “Tell me,” he prompted.

She blinked a few times, if only to break the magnetic pull his

dark blue eyes had on her. He’d rendered her speechless.

“I want nothing more than to spend days and nights devoted

to your pleasure, exploring your body, worshipping you. And I will.

On our honeymoon you will find me the most attentive, inventive

lover. All my arts will be at your service, and I will endeavor to undo all wrongs when I take you to my bed, as my wife.”

Julia placed her head just over the place where his tattoo lay hidden underneath his crisp white shirt. “How can you be so — cold?”

Gabriel rolled her so she was wholly in his arms and on top of

his chest, their upper bodies pressed together.

He kissed her gently at first, soft skin gliding over softer skin

before he pulled her lower lip between his, drawing on it slightly.

Then as his embrace became more heated, his hand clasped around

her neck, stroking up and down until he felt her relax.

The barest tip of his tongue moved forward to tease her upper lip, the act of a gentleman who was unsure how he would be received. He needn’t have worried. Julia welcomed him, and he began to explore

her mouth with purpose, catching her almost unawares before pull-

ing back without warning.

“Does that seem cold to you?” His warm breath blew across her

cheek, a hungry look in his eyes. “Does that feel as if I don’t want you?”

She would have shaken her head if she could have found it.

Gabriel moved his lips against her jaw, her chin, and painstak-

ingly slowly down the left side of her neck until he was kissing the hollow at the base of her throat.

“And this? Does this seem cold to you?” His mouth moved against

the surface of her skin.

“N-No.” She shivered.

He traced his nose up to her ear where he began to nibble, in

between whispered adorations.

“How about this?” His right hand slowly descended her side,

tracing each rib as if it were precious or perhaps as if he were searching for the primordial one Adam had lost. He shifted her slightly so 357

Sylvain Reynard

her thigh slid over his hip, coming into contact with the undeniable evidence of his ardor.

“Can you deny this?”

“No.”

Gabriel gazed at her heatedly. “Now that we’re clear on that point, I’m interested to hear your response.”

Julia found it difficult to reason clasped to his body the way she was. She began to squirm, and he squeezed her more tightly.

“There was no one else. My arms were full even when I was

alone. But if you were to tell me you’d fallen in love with someone else and that you were happy, I’d let you go. Even though it would break me.” He grimaced and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I’ll

love you forever, Julianne, whether you love me or not. That’s my

Heaven. And my Hell.”

The room echoed with silence for several minutes, and Julia

placed a shaking hand over her mouth. Slow, steady tears poured

down her face.

“What is it?” He tugged at her a couple of times before he was

able to coax her to cry against his chest. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

His voice was desperate, as he quickly rubbed his hand up and down her arm.

It took a few minutes for Julia to be able to compose herself

enough to speak. “You love me.”

Gabriel’s face immediately contorted in confusion. “Is that a

question?”

When she didn’t respond him, he began to panic. “You didn’t

believe that I loved you? But I told you that I loved you over and over again. I tried to show you with my actions, with my words, with my body. Did you not believe me?”

She shook her head from side to side, as if indicating that he

didn’t understand.

“Did you ever believe me? When we were in Italy? When we were

in Belize?” He tugged painfully at his hair. “My God, Julia, did you make me your first thinking that I merely liked you?”

“No.”

“Then why do you only believe that I love you now?”

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Gabriel’s Rapture

“You’d let me go so I could be happy, even if it was with someone

else.”

Two tears streamed down her cheek, and he caught them with

his fingers. “That’s what happens when you love someone. You want

them to be happy.”

She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and Gabriel

watched a teardrop slide over the wedding ring she was wearing on

her thumb.

“When I found the illustration of St. Francis and Guido de Mon-

tefeltro, I didn’t understand why you put it there. But it’s clear to me now. You were worried the university was going to ruin my life.

Rather than let it happen, you took my place. You loved me enough

to let me go, even though it would break your heart.”

“Julia, I…” Gabriel’s protestation was cut short by the warmth

of her lips melting against his. It was chaste and sorrowful, erotic and joyous.

She had never felt herself worthy of agape before. It wasn’t a goal she aspired to or a grail that she sought. When Gabriel first told her that he loved her, she believed him. But the magnitude and depth

of his love was not readily apparent. It had only become clear to her at this moment, and with that revelation came a tremendous sense

of awe.

Perhaps Gabriel’s love had always been sacrificial. Perhaps it had grown over time, just like the old apple tree that fed them on that night so long ago, and she just hadn’t noticed how much it had grown.

At that moment, the genesis of his sacrificial love didn’t mat-

ter. Having been confronted with what she could only describe as

something very deep, she knew that she could never doubt his love

now. Gabriel loved her as he knew her, fully, completely, and without question.

He pulled away, pressing his palm to her face. “I’m not a noble

man. But the love I have for you can’t be turned off. When I came

to you at your apartment, my intention was to tell you that I loved you and to see that you were all right. And if you sent me away…”

He took a deep breath. “I’d go.”

“I’m not going to send you away,” she whispered. “And I’ll do

my best to help you any way I can.”

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“Thank you.”

She moved so he was cradling her against his chest.

“I’m sorry I left.” He pressed their lips together.

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Chapter 48

In the days and weeks that followed, Julia and Gabriel saw each

other as much as they could, but between his preparation for the

fall semester and her extended shifts at Peet’s, most of their contact was mediated via telephone and email.

Julia continued her counseling sessions with Dr. Walters, which

took on a new dimension upon Gabriel’s return. Gabriel and Julia

began couple’s counseling, as well, on a weekly basis, which rapidly morphed into (unofficial) pre-marital preparations.

By the time Julia moved into one of the graduate student resi-

dences in August, she and Gabriel had managed to address several

of their previous communication problems. But their collective ob-

stinance remained. Gabriel wouldn’t sleep with her until they were married, and Julia wished to move their physical relationship forward, incrementally. Gabriel was loath to share a bed with her except on occasion and then only reluctantly, with the grim visage of a martyr.

On one such evening, Julia lay awake in his arms long after he’d

fallen asleep. His body was warm and his words had been sweet,

but she felt rejected. The passionate Professor hadn’t needed much persuasion to reconnect with Paulina when she sought him out. But

he wouldn’t love Julia with his body, even though he pledged his

eternal devotion.

As Gabriel’s chest rose and fell beneath her cheek, she contem-

plated the path her life had taken. She wondered if Beatrice had

spent some of her evenings earnestly desiring Dante’s presence, yet having to settle for the fact that he would only worship her from afar.

“Julia.”

Sylvain Reynard

She started at the sound of her name. He muttered something

and tightened his grip on her, pulling her closer.

A lone tear escaped her eye.

She knew he loved her. But the knowledge was sharp and sweet.

He was trying to let go of the past with Paulina and the other women, and she was paying the price. But perhaps it was no more than the

price he’d paid for the shame she’d carried because of Simon.

He mumbled again and this time she whispered in his ear. “I’m

here.”

She pressed her lips to his tattoo and closed her eyes.

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Chapter 49

Despite the pain of their continued physical separation, Julia

recognized that Gabriel was constantly discovering new and

ingenious ways to demonstrate his love. Though she found their new situation difficult, she continued to have faith in him.

He refused to even entertain the notion of spending the night

inside her small dorm room, but he’d drop in on occasion with

flowers or food, and they would picnic on the floor. He took her

to the movies, (even deigning to see a non-subtitled, domestically produced romantic comedy), and kissed her goodnight on the front

steps of her building.

On more than one occasion, he spent a Friday or Saturday eve-

ning in the library with her, writing his new book while she prepared for Professor Marinelli’s seminar. Julia was being wooed in word

and deed, and she liked it. But she was also unsatisfied, craving the closeness that could only be had when making love.

Soon it was August twenty-first and they were flying to Phila-

delphia to help with the preparations for Rachel and Aaron’s wed-

ding. As they walked into the lobby of the Four Seasons hotel, Julia was stunned to find her father sitting in a wing chair, reading the Philadelphia Inquirer.

“My dad is here,” she hissed, hoping to give Gabriel enough of a

head start so he could make it to the elevators before Tom took out one of his hunting rifles and shot him.

“I know. I called him.”

She turned to Gabriel in wide-eyed disbelief. “Why would you

do that? He wants to kill you.”

Sylvain Reynard

The Professor pulled himself up to his full height. “I want to

marry you. That means that I need to make amends with your father.

I want to be able to be in the same room without him attempting to shoot me. Or castrate me.”

“This is not a good time to ask him about marrying me,” Julia

whispered. “If you’re lucky, he’ll forego castration in order to remove your legs — with his Swiss Army knife.”

“I’m not going to ask for his permission to marry you; that de-

cision rests with you. Would you really want to marry a man your

father despises?”

Julia began to wring her hands in agitation.

He leaned over to speak in her ear. “Let me do some damage

control so it isn’t beyond the realm of possibility for him to accept our relationship. You might want him to walk you down the aisle

someday.”

No sooner had the words left Gabriel’s lips then Tom saw the

couple standing together. He smiled at his little girl widely, then glanced at Gabriel and scowled. As he stood to his feet, he brushed his jacket back so his hands could rest on his hips. He looked menacing.

O gods of women whose fathers wish to castrate their boyfriend in the lobby of the Four Seasons, please don’t let him be carrying anything sharp.

Gabriel boldly leaned over to press his lips to her forehead while staring Tom straight in the eye. Tom fixed him with a murderous

expression.

“Dad, hi.” Julia walked over and hugged him.

“Hi, Jules.” He hugged her back before pulling her behind him

protectively. “Emerson.”

Undeterred by Tom’s unfriendly tone, Gabriel stuck his hand out.

Tom simply stared at it as if it, like its owner, was felonious.

“I think we should find a quiet corner in the bar. I don’t want

an audience for what I have to say to you. Jules, do you need help carrying your luggage?”

“No, the porter has it. I’m, um, going to my room. Gabriel, I’ll

let you check into your room yourself, okay?”

He nodded, noting that Tom’s scowl relaxed slightly at the news

that his daughter was not currently cohabitating with the Devil.

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“Just for the record, I love both of you. So I’d really like it if you didn’t injure one another.” Julia looked warily between the two men, and when both failed to answer, she shook her head and walked to

the front desk. Her first order of business was to find out how well stocked the mini-bar was. P

Later that evening, after a somewhat tense but not unpleasant

dinner with her father, Julia availed herself of the gift basket of lavender bath products Gabriel had sent to her room, complete with

virginal lavender poof. She laughed when she thought of the first time he’d poofed her.

She sobered when she realized that he’d purchased lavender items

rather than vanilla, despite the fact that he preferred vanilla on her to any other scent. Perhaps this was his way of keeping her at arm’s length. Whatever his reason, she’d respect his wishes and hope that he’d change his mind. Soon.

She was soaking in the large, pedestal bathtub when her cell

phone rang. Luckily, the accursed device was well within reach.

“What are you doing?” Gabriel’s smooth voice filled her ears.

“Just relaxing. Thank you for the gift basket, by the way. How

are you?”

“I can’t say my conversation with your father was enjoyable, but

it was necessary. I gave him the chance to curse me and say that I’m a no good cokehead who doesn’t deserve you. Then I did my best to

explain what happened. By the end of our conversation, he begrudg-

ingly bought me a beer.”

“You’re kidding.”

“I’m not.”

“I can’t imagine Tom paying ten dollars for a Chimay Première.”

Gabriel chuckled. “It was Budweiser, actually. And not the origi-

nal Budweiser Budvar from the Czech Republic. He ordered for me.”

“I guess you must love me, if you’re willing to give up your pre-

tentious European imports for appalling bath water.” Julia gave the 365

Sylvain Reynard

large bathtub a baleful look. She would rather have been bathing

with Gabriel than without him.

“Drinking a domestic beer is the least I could do. I don’t think

your father will forgive me for hurting you, but hopefully things

will improve. I told him that I want to marry you. Did he mention

that over dinner?”

She hesitated. “He told me that I was his little girl and that he

wanted to protect me. Then he said some things about you that

weren’t very complimentary.

“But he admitted I’m an adult and that I need to live my own

life. He said it was clear to him that you’d changed — even since

he’d seen you last. I think you surprised him. And he isn’t used to being surprised.”

“I’m sorry.” Gabriel’s voice sounded pained.

“Sorry for what?”

“For not being the kind of man you could bring home to your

father.”

“Listen, my dad thought the sun shone out of Simon’s ass. He

isn’t exactly the best judge of character. And he doesn’t know you as I know you.”

“But he’s your father.”

“I’ll handle him.”

Gabriel was quiet for a moment as he contemplated her response.

“My conversation with Tom was a good warm up for dinner with

my family.”

“Oh, no. How did that go?”

He paused. “Talking to Scott on the telephone is one thing, but

having dinner with him is something else.”

“He’s protective of me. I’ll talk to him.”

“Dad asked me to offer a toast to Mom at the wedding reception.”

“Oh, darling. That’s going to be difficult. Are you sure you want

to do that?”

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment.

“I have some things I need to say. Things almost thirty years in

the making. Now’s my chance.”

“So you’ve kissed and made up with everyone?”

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“Basically. Dad and I made our peace on the telephone weeks ago.”

“Did you meet Tammy’s little boy?”

Gabriel snorted into the phone. “He soiled me as soon as I

picked him up. Perhaps Scott coached him to make his feelings

about me known.”

“Quinn peed on you?”

“No, he spilled milk all over my new Armani suit.”

Julia dissolved into peals of laughter at the thought of the very

elegant, very particular professor being soiled by his brother’s girlfriend’s son.

“Is it wrong that I didn’t care that much? I mean about the suit.”

Julia stopped laughing abruptly. “You didn’t care? What did you

do with it?”

“The concierge sent it to be dry-cleaned. I’ve been assured that

milk will come out of wool crepe, but I’m not holding my breath.

Suits can be replaced, people can’t.”

“You surprise me, Professor.”

“How so?”

“You’re sweet.”

“I try to be sweet with you,” he whispered.

“That’s true. But I’ve never seen you around children.”

“No,” he said quickly. “You’d make beautiful babies, Julianne.

Little girls and boys with big brown eyes and pink cheeks.”

Julia’s sharp intake of breath whistled in Gabriel’s ear.

His voice almost caught in his throat. “Is it premature to have

this conversation?”

She didn’t answer.

“Julianne?”

“My hesitation about marriage isn’t over having children. It comes from what happened between us and being a child of divorced parents.

They loved each other once, I think, and ended up hating each other.”

“My parents were married happily for years.”

“That’s true. If I could have a marriage like theirs — ”

“We can have a marriage like theirs,” Gabriel corrected her. “That’s what I want. And I want it with you.”

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Sylvain Reynard

He tried to communicate with his tone how much he desired

a marriage like the one Richard and Grace enjoyed. How he was

trying desperately to become the kind of man who could give Julia

that kind of marriage.

She exhaled slowly. “If you’d asked me to marry you before, I

would have said yes. But I can’t right now. There’s so much we need to work through, and I’m already stressed out about grad school.”

“I don’t mean to stress you out.” His voice was soft but slightly

strained.

“I thought you made your decision about having children.”

“There’s always adoption.” He sounded defensive.

She was quiet for a moment.

“The thought of having a little blue eyed baby with you makes

me happy.”

“Really?”

“Really. Seeing what Grace and Richard did with you, I’d be

interested in adopting someday. Just not while I’m a student.”

“The adoption would have to be private. I doubt a respectable

agency would place a child with a drug addict.”

“Do you really want children?”

“With you? Absolutely. If we were married, I’d consider having

my vasectomy reversed. It was done many years ago so I don’t know

how successful a reversal might be. But once we’re married I’d like to try — with your blessing.”

“I think it’s premature to have that conversation.” The arm she was leaning on accidentally slipped off the side of the bathtub, splashing into the water.

Scheisse, she thought, too worn out to call on a god to come to her rescue.

“Are you taking a bath?”

“Yes.”

She took comfort in the fact that he groaned into her ear. It was

painful that he could resist her, day after day, no matter what.

He sighed. “Well, I’m across the hall feeling lonely and sad, in

case you need anything.”

“I’m lonely too, Gabriel. Can’t we do something about that?”

He hesitated, and Julia felt hopeful.

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Gabriel groaned again in frustration. “I’m sorry, I need to go. I

love you.”

“Good night.”

Julia shook her head somewhat resignedly as she ended the call.

P

Despite the absence of her mother, Rachel almost had a fairy-

tale wedding. She and Aaron were married in a beautiful garden in

Philadelphia, and although Aaron had initially rejected the idea of having fifty doves released at the moment the priest pronounced

them husband and wife, Rachel wore him down.

(At least none of his relatives decided to practice their target

shooting.)

As maid of honor and groomsman, Julia and Gabriel found

themselves standing near the bride and groom, flanked by Scott.

Julia spent much of the ceremony peeking over at Gabriel, and he

stared at her unashamedly.

After the photographs were taken and the wedding dinner and

toasts were complete, Rachel and Aaron enjoyed the first dance. They melted into one another’s arms before their parents were invited to join them on the dance floor.

There was a moment of nervousness amongst the guests when

Richard stood, alone, before walking over to Julia and asking if she would honor him by being his partner. She was stunned by his request, as she had assumed that he would choose an aging aunt or friend, but she accepted quickly. Ever the consummate gentleman, Richard held

Julia firmly but respectfully as he moved her across the dance floor.

“Your father seems to be enjoying himself.” He nodded at Tom,

who was standing with a drink in his hand and engaged in an ani-

mated conversation with one of the female professors from Susque-

hanna University.

“Thank you for inviting him,” she said shyly as they danced to

the strains of Etta James’s “At Last.”

“He’s an old friend and a good friend. Grace and I owe him a

great deal from when we were having trouble with Gabriel.”

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Sylvain Reynard

Julia nodded and tried to concentrate on her feet, lest she stumble.

“Gabriel’s toast to Grace was very moving.”

Richard smiled. “He’s never called us Mom and Dad before. I’m sure that Grace is watching and that she’s very, very happy. I know that part of her happiness is seeing the transformation in our son.

You brought that about, Julia. Thank you.”

She smiled. “I can’t take credit for that. Some things are beyond

all of us.”

“I don’t disagree. But sometimes relationships can be conduits of

grace, and I know you’ve been one for my son. Thank you.

“It took a long time for Gabriel to forgive himself for what hap-

pened to Maia and for not being with Grace when she died. He’s a

very different man than he was a year ago. I hope that I’ll be able to dance with you at another wedding in the near future. One in which you and my son take center stage.”

An earnest expression came over her face. “We’re taking things

one day at a time, but I love him.”

“Don’t wait too long. Life takes unexpected turns, and we don’t

always have the time we think we have.” As the song ended, he kissed her hand and escorted her back to Gabriel.

Julia wiped away a tear as she sat down. Instantly, Gabriel’s lips were at her ear. “Is my father making you cry?”

“No. He’s just reminding me of what’s important.” She wound

their hands together and brought their connection to her mouth so

she could kiss his knuckles. “I love you.”

“And I love you, my sweet, sweet girl.” He leaned over to kiss her, and for a moment they forgot where they were as she reached up to

wind her arm around his neck and pull him closer.

As their lips met and their breath commingled, the noise of the

room slipped away. Gabriel pulled Julia so she was leaning across

his lap, clasping her to his heart as he kissed her passionately. When they came apart, they were both breathing heavily.

“I had no idea weddings brought out such reactions.” He smirked.

“Or I would have taken you to one sooner.”

After dancing several slow dances with Gabriel, Julia took a

turn with Scott and with Aaron, and finally, with her father. It was clear that Tom and Julia had a lot to say to one another, and their 370

Gabriel’s Rapture

expressions weren’t always happy ones. But by the end of the dance they seemed to have come to some sort of understanding, and Gabriel felt marginally relieved when she returned to him, wearing a smile.

Near the end of the evening, Aaron requested Marc Cohn’s “True

Companion” and dedicated it to Rachel. Immediately, a throng of

married couples scurried toward the dance floor. Tammy surprised

everyone by bringing little Quinn over to Julia and asking her to

hold him while she danced with Scott.

Julia was afraid that Quinn wouldn’t like her.

“He looks good on you,” Gabriel whispered as Quinn fell asleep

snuggled into her neck.

“I’m worried he’ll wake up.”

“He won’t.” Gabriel reached over to lightly stroke the fine hair

that decorated the boy’s head, smiling widely as he seemed to offer a contented sigh.

“Why do you want to get married and have children all of a

sudden?” Julia blurted.

He shrugged uncomfortably. “Things happened while we were

separated. I realized what was important — what I wanted for a happy life. And I went to an orphanage.”

“An orphanage? Why?”

“I volunteered with the Franciscans in Florence and they used to

bring candy and toys to the children at the orphanage. I went along.”

Julia’s jaw dropped. “You didn’t tell me about that.”

“It wasn’t a secret. I planned to stay in Assisi indefinitely, but I met an American family who were going to run a medical clinic for

the poor in Florence. I decided to join them.”

“Did you like it?”

“I wasn’t especially good at it. But I found my niche, eventually, telling stories about Dante in Italian.”

Julia grinned. “That’s a good job for a Dante specialist. What

about the orphanage?”

“The children were well looked after, but it was a sad place. They had babies there, some of whom had AIDS or fetal alcohol syndrome.

Then there were older children who would never be adopted. Most

adoptive parents want younger kids.”

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Julia placed her hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.”

Gabriel turned and gently touched the little boy’s head. “When

Grace found me, I was at an age that would have been considered

unadoptable. She wanted me anyway. I’ve been blessed.”

Julia heard his sudden vulnerability and was struck by how much

he’d changed. She couldn’t have imagined the old Professor Emerson talking about his blessings, or stroking a little boy’s head. Especially if the boy had ruined his new Armani suit.

Just before the last dance, Gabriel walked over to the DJ and

spoke to him in hushed tones. Then, with a wide smile, he returned to Julia and extended his hand.

They walked slowly onto the dance floor just as “Return to Me”

filled the air.

“I’m surprised you didn’t choose ‘Besame Mucho,’” she said.

Gabriel gazed into her eyes intensely. “I thought that we needed

a new song. A new song for a new chapter.”

“I liked the old one.”

“We don’t have to forget the past,” he whispered. “But we can

make the future better.”

She gave him a half-smile and changed the subject. “I remember

the first time we danced.”

“I was an ass that evening. When I think of how I behaved…”

His tone was remorseful. “I had a strong reaction to you but didn’t know how to act.”

“You know how to act around me now.” She touched his face

and pressed their lips together before tentatively fingering his black silk bow tie. “I remember admiring your ties when I was just your

student. You always dressed impeccably.”

Gabriel caught her hand in his and pressed his open mouth to

her palm. “Julianne, you were never just my student. You’re my soul mate. My bashert.”

He pulled her to his chest, and she hummed against his tuxedo.

And when Dean Martin switched to Italian, it was Gabriel’s voice

that sang in her ear.

P

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As Gabriel stood outside of Julia’s hotel room in the wee hours of the morning, he looked at her appraisingly. Her long, curled hair, her beautiful skin and flushed cheeks, her eyes sparkling with champagne and happiness. The way her dark red strapless dress complemented

her figure. His brown-eyed angel still had the power to enchant him.

As he gently caressed her cheek, she gazed up into the hazy blue

eyes he was now hiding behind his glasses. He was so handsome in

his tuxedo. So very, very sexy.

Boldly, she reached out to pull the edge of his bow tie and felt

the silk come apart in her fingers. She wrapped the tie around her hand once to tug his lips to hers.

As they kissed, Julia suddenly realized how difficult it must have been at the beginning of their relationship for Gabriel to keep his hands off her. The boiling of blood and heating of flesh when one

knew what lay beyond kissing in the voluptuary dance that was

foreplay. She could barely contain her need for him.

“Please,” she whispered, straining on tiptoe to place tiny kisses

across his neck as she tugged on his tie once again.

He groaned. “Don’t tempt me.”

“I promise I’ll be gentle.”

Gabriel laughed gruffly. “This is a stunning reversal.”

“We’ve waited a respectable amount of time. I love you. And I

want you.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly.

“Then marry me.”

“Gabriel, I — ”

He cut her off with his kiss, pulling her against his chest. Some-

how his hands were in her hair, clutching her tightly. And then as he gently slid his hands to caress her naked shoulders, he tentatively pressed into her mouth.

Julia released his bow tie to wrap her arms around his neck,

tugging him until their bodies were flush against one another. She nibbled his ful lower lip and moaned as his tongue slowly traced

the curve of her mouth.

Suddenly, his fingers were touching her collarbones and mov-

ing to her back, gliding across the surface of her skin as it began to flush and heat.

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Sylvain Reynard

“Let me do things the right way,” he pleaded, his hands cupping

her face.

“How could this be wrong?” she whispered back, eyes dark and

desperate.

He kissed her again, and this time she shamelessly wound her

right leg around his hip, trying to recreate their tango against a wall from the Royal Ontario Museum.

He pressed forward until her back was flush against the door to

her room, his hands roaming up and down her thighs, before pulling back suddenly. “I can’t.”

Julia removed his glasses in order to smooth the creases around

his eyes, and saw passion, conflict, and love staring back at her. She unwound her leg from his hip and pressed their lower bodies together.

“Gabriel.”

He blinked at the sound of her voice, as if she was awakening

him from a dream.

When he didn’t move, she placed a few inches between them

and handed him his glasses. “Goodnight, Gabriel.”

He looked stricken. “I don’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know.”

He remained perfectly still, staring down into eyes that were

filled with sadness and longing. “I’m trying to be strong for both of us,” he whispered. “But when you look at me like that…”

He kissed her lips softly and nodded his acquiescence as she

fumbled for her slide card, and the two of them disappeared behind her hotel room door.

P

Early the next morning, Julia left the comfort of Gabriel’s warm

embrace to tip toe to the washroom. When she returned, she found

him wide-awake and gazing at her with concern.

“Are you all right?”

Blushing, she smiled. “Yes.”

“Then come here.” He opened his arms, and she snuggled close,

placing a leg over both of his.

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“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you in the hallway.”

“You didn’t embarrass me.” The urgency of his tone took Julia

aback. “How could I be embarrassed by the woman I love showing

me that she wants me?”

“I think we gave some of the other guests a bit of a show.”

“And some inspiration,” he spoke against her lips, kissing her.

When they broke apart, she rested her head on his shoulder. “I

guess you’re serious about waiting until the wedding.”

“You weren’t complaining last night.”

“You know me.” She winked at him. “I don’t like to complain.

“Thank you for compromising, Gabriel.” She tightened her arms

around his waist. “Last night was important for me.”

“For me too.” He smiled. “I could see that you trust me.”

“I’m glad, because I’ve never trusted you more.”