Authors: Sylvain Reynard
Julia grew a little teary at his praise, for apart from Grace, no one had ever expressed pride in her or her accomplishments. “Thank you. Are you sure you want to part with your sweatshirt?”
“Of course, my smart, smart girl.”
“I haven’t decided if I’m accepting their offer or not.”
“What?” He pulled away, and his expression morphed into a scowl.
“I just received the call today. I have a week to decide.”
“What’s to decide? You’d be crazy not to accept it!”
She fidgeted with her hands. She thought that Gabriel would be saddened at the idea of their separation. She hadn’t thought that he would be so enthusiastic.
He paced back and forth. “Didn’t they offer you enough money? Because you know I’ll cover the cost. I’ll buy you an apartment near Harvard Square, for God’s sake.”
“I don’t want to be kept.”
“What are you talking about?” He turned his head, peering over at her sharply.
Julia squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “I want to pay my own way.”
Gabriel groaned in frustration and cupped her face in his hands. “Julianne, we will never be equals. You are my better.”
He stared at her, his sincerity bringing a particular light to his blue eyes, and he kissed her, before pulling her into his chest. “I have more vices and more money. I refuse to share my vices, but my money is yours. Take it.”
“I don’t want it.”
“Then let me help you secure a loan. Please don’t turn down this opportunity. Please. You’ve worked so hard for it.”
“Money isn’t the issue. Greg Matthews offered me a very generous fellowship, which will be more than enough to cover my expenses.”
She grasped the hem of her sweatshirt, tugging it to cover more of her naked body. “I’m worried about what will happen to us if I go.”
“Do you want to go?”
“Yes. But I don’t want to lose you.”
“Why would you lose me?”
She buried her face in his chest. “Long distance relationships are difficult. You’re very handsome. Lots of women will try to take my place.”
He scowled. “I’m not interested in lots of women. I’m interested in you. I’ve applied for a sabbatical. If that doesn’t work, I could take a leave of absence. It wouldn’t hurt for me to spend a year at Harvard finishing my book. We can go together, and that will buy me some time to figure out what I should do.”
“I can’t let you do that. Your career is here.”
“Academics take sabbaticals all the time. Ask Katherine.”
“What if you resent me?” she asked.
“It’s far more likely that you’ll resent me—being tied to an older man when you should be dating men your own age. And an older man who is a selfish know-it-all and can’t stop bossing you around.”
Julia rolled her eyes. “The man I love is not the person you described. Not anymore. Besides, there’s only a ten-year age difference between us.”
He grinned wryly. “Thank you. We don’t have to live together if you don’t want to. I’ll be your neighbor. Of course, if you don’t want me to go…” He swallowed and waited for her response.
Julia threw her arms around his neck. “Of course I want you to come with me.”
“Good,” he whispered, pulling her into the bedroom.
* * *
After Julia returned to her apartment the following day, Gabriel spent the afternoon working in his home office. He was about to telephone her to ask if she wanted to meet for dinner when his cell phone rang. Realizing that it was Paulina, he refused to answer it.
A few minutes later his home telephone rang, its unique ring indicating that the call was coming from the security guard downstairs. He picked up the phone.
“Yes?”
“Professor Emerson, there is a woman here who says that she needs to see you.”
“Her name?”
“Paulina Gruscheva.”
Gabriel cursed. “Tell her to go away.”
The security guard lowered his voice. “Of course, Professor. But you should know that she seems upset. And she’s using your name rather loudly.”
“Fine,” he spat. “Tell her I’ll be right there.”
Gabriel grabbed his keys and strode out of the apartment heading toward the elevator, cursing.
With the relief that an early acceptance to Harvard brought, Julia was able to redouble her efforts on her thesis. When she and Gabriel were apart, she worked tirelessly, spending hours upon hours in the library or at her apartment writing.
As a reward, Gabriel decided to whisk her away to Belize for Valentine’s weekend. It was a celebration of love, Julia’s acceptance to Harvard, and other things that Gabriel was not yet ready to share.
On the day of their departure, Julia stood on the front porch of her building, checking her mailbox. She found a letter from Harvard, which she opened immediately. It was a formal offer of admission to the doctoral program, and it included the terms of her conditional acceptance and her fellowship.
She also found a business sized envelope with the University of Toronto insignia on it. The words
Office of the Dean of Graduate Studies
were printed above the return address. She quickly ripped open the envelope and read its contents. Then she dragged her luggage to Bloor Street, flagging a cab to Gabriel’s condominium.
She flew into the lobby, past the security guards, and into the elevator that would take her to his floor. Tripping down the hall, she let herself in with her key.
“Darling?” Gabriel walked to the front door with a smile. “You’re early. I’m flattered that you couldn’t stay away from me.”
She batted away his outstretched arms and shoved one of the letters into his hand.
“What’s this?”
He glanced down at the letter.
February 5, 2010
Office of the Dean of Graduate Studies
University of Toronto
Toronto, Canada
Dear Miss Julianne Mitchell,
A complaint has been filed in our office alleging that you have violated the University of Toronto’s Code of Behaviour on Academic Matters. In conjunction with this complaint, you are requested to appear in person at the Dean’s office on February 19, 2010, for a preliminary interview. The Chair of Italian Studies, Professor Jeremy Martin, will also be in attendance.
You may bring an individual with you to this meeting. This individual may be a representative of the Graduate Student Association, a family member or friend, or an attorney.
This meeting is for information purposes only and does not constitute a hearing, nor has the Dean’s office taken any position on the legitimacy of the complaint.
Please confirm with this office that you have received this letter and that you will be attending this meeting. If you do not attend, an investigation into the complaint will begin automatically.
Yours very truly,
David Aras, PhD
Dean of Graduate Studies
Gabriel looked down into Julia’s panicked eyes and tried to find the words to reassure her that she had nothing to worry about—but he couldn’t.
Julia saw fear flash across Gabriel’s eyes, but only for an instant. There was nothing more terrifying to her than the sight of Gabriel’s fear.
He helped her take off her coat and urged her to sit down in the red chair next to the fireplace. Flipping a switch, which caused the flames to ignite, he walked to the other room. Julia leaned back in the chair and covered her face with her hands.
“Drink this.” He nudged her hand with a glass.
“What is it?”
“Laphroaig. Scotch.”
“You know I don’t like that stuff.”
“One swallow, just to take the edge off.”
She tipped the crystal glass to her lips and drank, feeling the burn of the alcohol in her mouth and throat. Coughing wildly, she handed the glass back. He downed the rest of the Scotch and sat on the sofa opposite her.
“What’s the ‘Code of Behaviour on Academic Matters’?” she asked.
“It’s the policy that governs any kind of scholastic infraction—cheating, plagiarism, fraud, etc.”
“Why would someone report me for academic fraud?”
Gabriel scrubbed at his face. “I have no idea.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course! You think I’d keep this from you?”
“You’ve been keeping something from me. That night you were working late in your office, you wouldn’t tell me what you were—”
“I was working on a job application,” he interrupted. “Greg Matthews called me the night that you and I went to
Auberge
for dinner. He invited me to apply for an endowed chair but told me they needed my portfolio right away. Preparing it took longer than I expected.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
He averted his eyes. “I didn’t want you to get your hopes up. The chances of me getting that job are slim. I’m not a full professor and without a doubt they’re recruiting senior people. But I had to try—for your sake.”
“I wish you’d told me. I imagined all kinds of things.”
His eyes flew to hers. “I thought you trusted me.”
“Of course I trust you. It’s the women around you I don’t trust.”
“I shouldn’t have kept my application a secret.” He shuffled his feet. “I didn’t want to disappoint you when I don’t get the position.”
“You aren’t going to disappoint me, Gabriel, unless you keep secrets from me.”
He grimaced and disappeared into the dining room. When he returned, he was sipping another finger’s worth of Scotch.
“I have a meeting with Jeremy this week. I could ask him about you.”
She shook her head. “You should stay out of this.”
“Do you have any idea what the complaint might be about?”
“I haven’t done anything but go to school and do my work since I got here. Except for having some conflict with Christa and that run in with Professor Pain—
Professor Singer
. Do you think that she…?”
Gabriel seemed to consider this possibility for a moment.
“I don’t think so. She was hauled in front of a Judicial Committee last year when Paul Norris filed a complaint. I’m sure she wouldn’t want to appear in front of them again. She isn’t one of your instructors, so how would she know about your academic work?”
“She wouldn’t.” Julia paused and a look of horror came over her pretty face. “You don’t think Katherine Picton reported me for something?”
“No. She wouldn’t do that without confronting you first. And she’d call me, as a courtesy.”
“What are the penalties for academic infractions?”
“It depends on the severity of the offense. They could reprimand you or give you a zero on an assignment or in a course. In extreme circumstances, they can expel you.”
Julia inhaled shakily. If she were expelled, she wouldn’t be completing her MA. And that would mean that Harvard…
Gabriel fixed his gaze on her. “Would Paul do this?”
“No. He wants to help me, not hurt me.”
“Angelfucker,”
Gabriel muttered.
“What about Christa?”
He shifted against the leather of the sofa. “It’s possible.”
Julia’s eyes narrowed. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“You already know she’s a troublemaker.”
“What’s going on with Christa, Gabriel? Tell me.”
He stood up and began pacing in front of the fireplace. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Julia grabbed the Dean’s letter and walked to the front hall.
“Wait, what are you doing?” He jogged after her.
“I warned you not to lie to me. I guess I should have been more specific and told you not to be evasive, either.” She retrieved her coat from the hall closet, pulling it on hastily.
“Don’t leave.”
She looked up at him, eyes blazing. “Then tell me about Christa.”
He pressed the heels of his hands over his eyes. “Fine.”
Gabriel helped her take off her coat and escorted her back to the living room. She refused to sit down, choosing rather to stand in front of the fire, arms crossed.
“Is Christa blackmailing you? Is that why you approved her thesis proposal?”
“Not exactly.”
“Spit it out, Gabriel.”
He turned away from her, looking out the window at the Toronto skyline. “Christa Peterson has accused me of sexual harassment.”
Julia stared at Gabriel, wide-eyed. “What?”
“Christa filed a complaint with the sexual harassment officer, who referred the file to Jeremy. That’s why I have to meet him this week.”
Shakily, Julia lowered herself to sit in the red velvet chair. “When did you find out?”
A muscle jumped in Gabriel’s angular jaw. “He called me a few days ago.”
“A few days ago?”
She clenched her teeth. “How long were you going to wait before you told me?”
“I didn’t want to ruin our trip to Belize. I was going to tell you when we got back. I swear.”
Julia glared at him angrily. “I thought we weren’t keeping secrets from each other.”
“It wasn’t a secret—I just wanted you to have a few days to relax before I gave you the bad news.” With a sigh, he turned to face her.
“Why would Christa accuse you of harassment? She’s been harassing you!”
“I don’t know the specifics of the allegations. I should have filed a complaint with the harassment officer, myself, but I didn’t want to draw unwanted attention.”
“What are we going to do?”
Gabriel stared determinedly into the fire. “I’m going to call my lawyer, and we’re going to see that both of these accusations are dealt with. Swiftly.”
Julia stood up and clasped her hands around his waist, burying her face in his sweater.
* * *
“What is it now, Emerson? I’m in bed with a hot young law clerk from a competing firm.” John Green answered his cell phone amidst the sounds of squealing and high-pitched giggles.
“Zip up your pants, John. This is going to take a while.”
The lawyer cursed before covering his cell phone with one hand. “Don’t go anywhere, sugar.” He addressed his female pelvic affiliate before scuttling off in his red bikini briefs to the washroom.
“I’m already on top of your harassment complaint, Emerson. You don’t need to pester me. I was about to have the best sex of my life.”
“I need to speak to you about something else.” Gabriel briefly summarized the contents of the Dean’s letter to Julia.
“I can’t help your girlfriend.”
Gabriel began to sputter and protest, but John ignored him.
“Listen, if they’re dragging you in for sexual harassment and your twink—ahem—
girlfriend
in for some kind of academic infraction, I’ll bet my Porsche that the two complaints are connected. Have you told her not to mention you during her conversation with the Dean?”
Gabriel gritted his teeth. “No.”
“Well, you should. You don’t want to be drawn into anything through her. You have enough to worry about.”
The Professor breathed in and out chillingly slowly.
“I’m not in the habit of cutting loose my friends, least of all Julianne. Is that clear? Or do I need to find myself another lawyer?”
“Fine. But she needs her own attorney. If these two matters are connected, it’s likely to raise a conflict of interest for me. And I think the university might become suspicious if I represented both of you.”
“Fine!” spat Gabriel. “Who do you recommend?”
John thought for a moment. “I’d recommend Soraya Harandi. She works for one of the Bay Street firms, and she has represented faculty against the university in the past. We had a thing a couple of years ago and she hates my guts. But she’s good at what she does.”
He grunted into the phone, apparently reaching for his BlackBerry. “I’ll text you her contact information. Ask your girlfriend to call Soraya’s office and explain the situation to her secretary. I’m sure she’ll jump at the opportunity.”
“What’s the likelihood of either complaint resulting in—negative consequences?”
“I have no idea. It’s possible the university will conduct an investigation and dismiss both complaints. But don’t let her go in there without a lawyer, or this could turn around and bite both of you in the ass.”
“Thanks, John.” Gabriel’s voice was laced with sarcasm.
“In the meantime, I’d like you to make a list of everything—and I mean everything—that is relevant to the harassment complaint. Any kind of evidence she might present, such as emails, texts, messages, and photographs. Send everything to me, and I’ll start looking at it. And send me everything on your girlfriend too.
“I don’t like having to say, ‘I told you so,’ Gabriel. But I did. The university has a zero-tolerance policy with respect to fraternization, which means they can expel your girlfriend and fire you. Let’s hope the two complaints are not connected and that someone reported her for failing to return her library books.”
“It’s always a pleasure to speak with you,” said Gabriel icily.
“If you didn’t think with your dick, you wouldn’t be speaking with me. I just hope your girlfriend was worth it, because if the shit hits the fan, she’s going to turn out to be an extremely costly lay.”
Before John could say good-bye, Gabriel hurled the handset against the wall, watching it smash into several large pieces and falling to the hardwood floor below. Then he took several deep breaths so he could convince Julia they should simply enjoy their vacation.
* * *
That same afternoon, Dean David Aras sat in his office on St. George Street and looked at his telephone with surprise. Usually, his administrative assistant was much better at screening his calls. But Professor Katherine Picton was nothing if not persistent, and she usually received whatever she wanted. In this case, that was a conversation with the Dean of Graduate Studies at the University of Toronto.
He lifted the handset and pressed the button. “Hello, Professor Picton. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“There’s no pleasure at all, David. I demand to know why I received a letter from your office requiring me to be interviewed at one of your Stalinist proceedings.”
David pressed his lips together in order to avoid biting back. She was famous, she was old, and she was a woman. He wasn’t about to curse her out.
(Except in Lithuanian. Perhaps.)
“I need to ask you a few questions. It will take ten minutes, tops, and you’ll be on your way,” he replied smoothly.
“Nonsense. It takes me ten minutes to walk down the front steps of my house in the winter. It will take forever to walk over to your office. I demand to know what I am being summoned to and why, or I’m not coming. We can’t all spend our afternoons having assistants screen our calls and make us coffee so we can dream up ways of making other people’s lives miserable.”
The Dean cleared his throat.
“A complaint has been made against the graduate student you’re supervising.”
“Miss Mitchell? What sort of complaint?”
In a very understated way, he explained the nature of the complaint that he’d received.
“That’s outrageous! Have you even met her?”
“No.”
“This is a ridiculous complaint made against an innocent and hardworking
female
student. And need I remind you, David, that this is not the first time that a successful female graduate student has been slagged in a university proceeding.”
“I am quite aware of that. But there are related matters that I am not at liberty to discuss with you. I wish to interview you about your dealings with Miss Mitchell. That’s all.”
“I am not going to lend any credence whatsoever to a witch hunt that is targeting
my
graduate student.”
David frowned at her through the phone. “Without your testimony, it’s quite possible a grave injustice might occur. You might be exactly what we need to clear Miss Mitchell’s name.”
“Codswallop! It’s
your
responsibility to see that justice is served. I’m surprised that you have taken the complaint seriously. Quite surprised. And wipe that frown off your face, David. I can hear you sulking and I don’t appreciate it.”
The Dean suppressed a Lithuanian curse. “Professor Picton, are you refusing to answer my questions?”
“Are you hard of hearing? Or has your quest for administrative power made you intellectually lazy? I’ve said that I refuse to cooperate. I don’t work for the university anymore. I am retired. Furthermore, I will be bringing this matter up over dinner tonight at the President’s house. I’m sure he and his guests will be most interested in how the administration of his own university is operating.
“And by the way, the dinner party is being given in honor of Mary Asprey, the famous novelist. As an alumna, I know she takes an avid interest in the affairs of her
alma mater
, particularly the more patriarchal machinations. I wonder what she’ll make of this?”
And with that, Professor Picton hung up.
* * *
When Gabriel and Julia finally arrived at the Turtle Inn resort in Belize, it was late in the evening and the stars were already out. Julia explored their accommodations—a private hut on a secluded beach—while Gabriel ordered room service.
The walls of their hut were white, with the exception of a row of tall, teak panels that accordioned to open out onto the covered porch. The ceilings were a mixture of bamboo and thatch, and a large bed was centered in the room, shrouded in mosquito netting. Julia was particularly taken with the open air shower and bathtub that were located on a side veranda.
While Gabriel wrestled with the kitchen staff over the telephone, Julia quickly slipped out of her clothes and took a shower. The space was not completely closed, affording the bather a view of the ocean. But since it was dark out and they were on a private beach, there was no possibility of being surprised by anyone, apart from one’s lover.
“Dinner will arrive in about an hour. I’m sorry it’s going to take so long.” Gabriel licked his lips as he took in the sight of Julia in her bathrobe.
In contrast, he’d changed into a white linen shirt that was mostly unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. He wore khaki pants with the hems rolled up, exposing his bare feet.
(Parenthetically, it should be noted that even his feet were attractive.)
“Would you like to take a walk with me on the beach?”
“I think I’d rather do something else.” She tugged him, smiling, toward the bed, and gave him a gentle push so he was seated on its edge.
He caught her by the belt of her robe. “I’d be content just to relax. It was a long trip.” His face showed that he was in earnest, which somewhat surprised her.
“I miss you.” Her voice dropped to a throaty whisper.
He pulled her so she was standing in between his knees and slid his hands to rest on her backside. “We could nap before dinner. There’s no rush.”
She rolled her eyes. “Gabriel, I want you to make love to me. If you’re saying no, just tell me.”
He gave her a very wide, very delighted grin. “I’d never say no to you, Miss Mitchell.”
“Good. Give me five minutes,
Professor Emerson.”
He sank down on his back, his feet still on the floor. Julia’s newfound confidence was absolutely enticing. In a single sentence, she’d aroused him so much that he was already suffering.
It seemed like forever, but it was really only a few minutes later when Julia emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in his Christmas gift. The black satin fabric accentuated the pink and cream of her skin, while the corset itself made her breasts look fuller and her waist smaller. Gabriel couldn’t help but admire the exquisite hourglass that was Julia’s now transformed figure.
His eyes hungrily regarded the merest glimpse of black lace panties, paired with black-silk stockings that were held up by a garter belt. Finally and gloriously, a pair of black pumps decorated her feet.
Gabriel nearly had a heart attack when he gazed at the shoes alone.
“Bonsoir, Professeur. Vous allez bien?”
Julia purred.
It took a moment for him to figure out why she’d made this linguistic choice, so taken as he was by her figure and her footwear.
Julia was wearing his beret.
When his eyes finally met hers, she watched him swallow hard. She pouted at him provocatively and removed her hat, tossing it at him. After he threw it aside, she walked slowly, very slowly, to the bed.
“I really like my Christmas present, Professor.”
Gabriel gulped, at a loss for words.
“Have you seen the back?” She pivoted her hips, watching him over her shoulder.
He reached out a finger to touch the laces that tied the corset, dragging his hand down to the panties that cut across her pert backside.
“Enough teasing, Miss Mitchell.
Come here.”
He pulled her to him, bringing their mouths together in a forceful kiss.
“I’m going to take my time unwrapping my gift—with the exception of the shoes. I hope for your sake they’re comfortable.”
After ten minutes of knocking on the door, the room service waiter had to take their dinner back to the kitchen and await further instructions.
The instructions never came.
* * *
Long after midnight, beautiful music hung in the air from Gabriel’s new playlist, including songs by Sarah McLachlan, Sting, and Matthew Barber. Julia was lying on her stomach amidst a tangle of linen sheets, drowsy and satisfied. Her back was exposed down to the two dimples that rested above the curve of her backside.
Gabriel had artfully placed part of the sheet over her bottom and retrieved his camera. He stood by the bed, snapping picture after picture until she yawned and stretched, like a sleepy cat.
“You’re exquisite,” he said, placing the camera to one side so he could sit by her.
She looked up with wide, happy eyes as he began running his long fingers down her spine, then gave a rueful smile. “When you love something, you don’t see its flaws.”
“That’s true, I suppose. But you’re beautiful.”
She shifted so she could see him better, hugging her arms around a pillow. “Love makes things beautiful.”
A familiar tightness spread across Gabriel’s lips. His hand stilled on her lower back, just over the dimples.
She read the unspoken question in his eyes. “Yes, Gabriel, you’re beautiful to me. The more I know you, the more I see who you really are and the more beautiful you become.”
He kissed her, the light, appreciative kiss of a teenage suitor, and ran his fingers through her long, brown hair. “Thank you. You’re hungry, aren’t you?”