Gabriel's Rapture (30 page)

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 alphabetically, 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 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!”

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.

* * *

“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.”

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?”

“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 attractive 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 laughter 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.

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.

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 containing 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.”

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.

* * *

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 concluded 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. “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 Katherine’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.

* * *

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 still. 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 simultaneously 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.

“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.

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 tearing 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 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 obscene, 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.