Gabriel's Rapture

Boys are dumb.

She sniffled for a few minutes, then Gabriel was spooning behind

her, pressing his naked chest to her back.

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Gabriel’s Rapture

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

She nodded, still sniffling.

“Please don’t cry.”

“I’m not crying.”

“I didn’t mean to be an ass.” He propped himself up on his elbow.

“Look at me.”

He gave her a repentant smile. “I’ve been spoiled with all the

times we’ve made love over the past two weeks. But I know that there will be days when you’re tired or you don’t feel like it. I promise not to sulk — too much.”

She smiled wryly and reached up to kiss his pouty lower lip.

He wiped her eyes. “Will you tell me why you were crying this

afternoon at the restaurant?”

Julia shook her head.

“Please?”

“I’m too tired.”

He nuzzled her until her body relaxed in his arms. “What can

I do?”

“I don’t need anything.”

“A hot bath? A massage?” The look on his face was one of a little

boy, eager to please. “Let me touch you. I’ll make you feel better.”

“Gabriel, I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“I wanted to do something for you.”

“Just hug me.”

“I’d gladly do that anyway.” He kissed her once more before

spooning behind her.

“Merry Christmas, Gabriel.”

“Merry Christmas.”

P

A few hours earlier, a lone woman stepped into a taxi outside

the Comfort Inn. She was crying.

The cabbie politely ignored her tears and turned the radio up,

hoping to give her some privacy on their long drive to Harrisburg.

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The song that was playing was catchy, so catchy in fact that they both found themselves humming.

As she hummed she thought of the parcel she’d given to the

hotel’s night manager, Will. She’d given him five crisp twenty-dollar bills in exchange for his promise to deliver said package to a particular address in Selinsgrove by nine o’clock the following morning.

Christmas morning.

When he’d revealed (in typical small-town fashion) that he was

acquainted with that address, having been a high school classmate

of Gabriel’s brother, Scott, the woman casually pressed him for information about Gabriel’s new girlfriend.

Will responded enthusiastically, since his family had known Tom

Mitchell and his daughter for years. In fact, Will reported, Tom had recently bragged that Julia was excelling in her graduate studies at the University of Toronto.

As soon as the woman learned this surprising fact, she decided

to check out of the hotel and leave Selinsgrove. As she watched the snow-tipped trees pass by the cab’s windows, she wondered how

she could discover if Julianne was a student of Gabriel’s when they began their affair.

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Chapter 10

Very early Christmas morning, Gabriel sat in his boxer shorts and

glasses, debating whether or not to wake Julianne. He could

have returned to the light of the living room of their suite, where he’d played Santa Claus only an hour before. But he preferred to be near her, even in the dark.

Richard’s conversation with him from the day before plagued

his mind. His adoptive father had asked about Paulina, and he’d said about as much on the topic as he dared, emphasizing that Paulina

was his past and Julia his future. Richard, who was a compassionate man, encouraged his son to make professional counseling a necessary condition for Paulina’s continued access to her trust fund, pointing out that she clearly needed help.

Once Gabriel agreed, Richard smoothly changed the subject to

Julia, asking if he was in love with her. Gabriel replied unequivocally in the affirmative, to which Richard responded by bring up the R-word, responsibility.

“I am taking responsibility for her.”

“She’s still a student. What if she gets pregnant?”

Gabriel’s expression hardened. “That won’t happen.”

Richard smiled. “I thought that once. Then we had Scott.”

“I’ve already demonstrated that I more than take care of my

responsibilities.” Gabriel’s voice was glacial.

His adoptive father sat back in his chair, tenting his fingers

reflectively.

“Julia is like Grace in several ways — not least of which is her

willingness to sacrifice herself for those she loves.”

Sylvain Reynard

“I won’t allow her to sacrifice her dreams for me, you can be

assured of that.”

Richard’s eyes flickered over to the picture of his wife that he

always kept on his desk, a laughing, smiling woman with kind eyes.

“How did Julia react to Paulina’s visit?”

“I haven’t discussed it with her.”

“If you abandon Julia, you will have a serious problem with your

siblings, as well as with me.”

Gabriel’s eyebrows knit together like thunderous clouds. “I would

never abandon her. And I won’t live without her.”

“Then why don’t you tell her that?”

“Because we’ve only been together for two weeks.”

Richard raised his eyebrows in surprise, but elected not to in-

terrogate his son over the semantic ambiguity of the phrase “being together.”

“You know my views on this. You should marry her. At the mo-

ment, you appear to be with her under false pretenses; your actions indicate that she is only a partner in a sexual affair, when your intentions are serious.”

Gabriel bristled at the characterization. “Julianne is not my

mistress.”

“You won’t make a commitment to her.”

“I am committed to her. There’s no one else.”

“But Paulina appears, looking for you and making a spectacle in

front of Julia and your family.”

“I can’t help that,” Gabriel snapped.

“Can’t you?” Richard pursed his lips together. “It’s difficult for me to believe that a woman as intelligent as Paulina would simply arrive without any hope that her overtures would be accepted.”

Gabriel scowled, but didn’t bother to argue.

“Why won’t you make some promises to Julia? I’m sure she’s

anxious about what the future might hold. Marriage is a sacrament

that exists partially to protect women from sexual exploitation. If you take that protection away from her, then she is little more than your mistress, no matter what you choose to call her. And she has

seen what happened — what is happening — to Paulina.”

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“That isn’t going to happen to Julianne.”

“How does she know that?” Richard tapped his fingers on the top

of his desk. “Marriage is more than a piece of paper. It’s a mystery. In fact, there’s a Midrash that suggests that marriage is made in heaven between soul mates. Don’t you want to be with Julia forever?”

“What I want is immaterial. I won’t rush her into making a

life-changing decision in the middle of the academic year,” Gabriel muttered, rubbing at his eyes. “It’s too soon.”

“Pray that you don’t wait until it’s too late,” Richard countered, gazing sadly at Grace’s photograph.

With these words, then, ringing in his ears, Gabriel sat watching

his soul mate sleep on Christmas morning.

As if she could hear his thoughts, she stirred, a nameless anxiety wafting over her. A moment later she rolled toward him, her fingers making contact with the silk at his hip.

In the darkness of the room, Gabriel looked like a gargoyle — a

gray, motionless figure that stared back at her from behind his glasses in stony silence. It took a moment for Julia to recognize him.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing. Go back to sleep.”

Her face creased in puzzlement. “But you’re sitting half-naked

in the dark.”

He gave her a tentative smile. “I’m waiting for you to wake up.”

“Why?”

“So we can open presents. But it’s early. Go back to sleep.”

She slid closer to him, searching for and finding his hand. She

kissed the back of it and pulled it toward her heart.

He smiled and pressed his palm flat against her chest so he could

feel her heart beat. His face grew serious.

“Forgive me for last night.” He cleared his throat roughly. “I don’t want you to think that sex is all I want. It isn’t.”

Her smile faded. “I know that.”

He moved his hand to stroke her eyebrows with his fingers. “I

desire you, obviously. It’s difficult for me not to touch you, not to want to be with you that way.”

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His hand floated across her cheek, hesitantly. “But I love you,

and I want you to be with me because you want to be. Not because

you feel obligated.”

She leaned into his hand. “I don’t feel obligated. There were

so many times when you could have pressured me, like the night

we were in your old room and I — I took my top off. But you were

patient. And when it was our first time, you were wonderful. I’ve

been lucky to have you as my lover.”

She gave him a sleepy smile. “Why don’t you come over here? I

think we could both use some rest.”

Gabriel slid under the covers and cuddled close to his beloved.

When her regular breathing indicated that she’d fallen asleep, he

whispered a few promises to her in Italian.

When Julia awoke she was treated to breakfast in bed. Then

she was nagged impatiently until she agreed to accompany Gabriel

to the sitting room. He was so excited he was practically bouncing.

(In a very dignified and professorial way, of course, despite his

lack of shirt.)

A small, Charlie Brown Christmas tree had been conveniently

“borrowed” from the bed and breakfast’s parlor and was placed in the center of the room. Several brightly colored parcels rested beneath it.

Two large, red stockings embroidered with the names “Julianne” and

“Gabriel” were each sitting in a corner of the loveseat.

“Merry Christmas.” He kissed her forehead, feeling very proud

of himself.

“I’ve never had a stocking.”

He led her to the loveseat and placed the stocking in her lap. It

was filled with candy and panties that had Yuletide images on them.

And in the toe was a flash drive that contained video of a certain tango against the wall at the Royal Ontario Museum.

“Why haven’t you had a stocking before?”

“Sharon didn’t always remember Christmas and my dad didn’t

think of it.” She shrugged.

He shook his head. He hadn’t had stockings either, before he

came to live with the Clarks.

Julia pointed to a couple of presents that were wrapped in red

and green plaid and sitting on the coffee table. “Why don’t you open your gifts first?”

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Gabriel’s Rapture

Gabriel beamed and sat on the floor by the tree, cross-legged. He

picked up a small box and tore at the paper with abandon.

Julia laughed at the sight of him, this very proper professor sit-

ting in his spectacles and underwear, attacking his presents like a four-year-old.

Gabriel opened the box and was very surprised at what he saw

inside. Nestled in cream-colored silk was a pair of silver cufflinks.

But these were no ordinary cufflinks. These cufflinks bore the shield of the city of Florence. He gazed at them in wonder.

“Do you like them?”

“I love them, Julianne. I’m just surprised. How did you…?”

“While you were at one of your meetings, I walked over to the

Ponte Vecchio and bought them. I thought they would look good

with your fancy shirts.” She looked at the floor. “I’m afraid I bought them using some of my scholarship money. So really, you bought

them for yourself.”

Gabriel rose to his knees and shuffled over to her, kissing her in gratitude. “That money is yours. You earned it. And the cufflinks

are perfect. Thank you.”

She smiled at the sight of him kneeling in front of her. “There’s

another gift for you.”

He grinned as he found a second small, flat present. Underneath

the wrapping paper he found a framed eight-by-ten inch reproduc-

tion of Marc Chagall’s painting Lovers in the Moonlight.

Inside the enclosed card Julia had written a few sweet nothings,

declaring her love and her gratitude at finding him again. She also added another, more important, gift.

I’d like to pose for your photographs.

All my love,

Your Julia.

XOXO

Gabriel was speechless. His eyes met hers with a questioning look.

“I think it’s time you had some photographs of us to hang on

the walls of your bedroom. And I would like to do this for you. If that’s all right.”

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He moved to join her on the love seat and kissed her deeply.

“Thank you. The painting is lovely, but what is far more lovely is you.”

He grinned. “Your fondness for Chagall will be our inspiration. But I think we’ll have to practice our poses first.”

He moved his eyebrows suggestively, before leaning forward to

tug her lower lip into his mouth.

“You are the greatest gift,” he murmured. He felt her lips move

into a smile beneath his mouth, and he pulled back to retrieve one of her gifts from under the tree.

She rewarded him with shining, eager eyes. When she opened

the small box, she found a compact disc that he’d recorded for her, entitled Loving Julianne.

“It’s the playlist that we listened to in Florence,” he explained.

“Thank you. I was going to ask you for a copy of those songs.

They’ll bring back happy memories.”

Underneath the jewel case she found a series of gift certificates

for various spa treatments at the Windsor Arms Hotel in Toronto,

some of which had various exotic sounding names such as Vichy

shower and seaweed and salt body wrap.

She thanked him, reading the titles aloud until she came to the

last certificate.

Arrangements have been made for you to see a plastic surgeon

in Toronto as soon as we return. Based upon the information

I provided, he’s confident that your scar can be removed

completely. You don’ t need to worry about it anymore,

Gabriel.

He released the page from her tense fingers, smiling apologetically.

“I probably shouldn’t have included that in the box. Sorry.”

Julia caught his hand. “Thank you. I thought I would have to

wait. But this is the best gift you could have given me.”

Gabriel exhaled deeply and leaned over to kiss the top of her

head. “You are worth it,” he declared, his eyes blazing.

She smiled a little and peered around him, gazing at a large box

that was still underneath the Christmas tree.

“There’s one more present. Is it for me?”

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Gabriel’s Rapture

He nodded.

“Well, can I open it?”

“I’d rather you waited.”

She frowned. “Why? Do you want me to take it to Richard’s

house? To open it in front of your family?”

“God, no!”

He ran his fingers through his hair and gave her a half-smile.

“Sorry. It’s just kind of — ah — personal. Would you wait and open it tonight? Please?”

She looked at the gift curiously. “Judging by the size of the box, it isn’t a kitten.”

“No, it isn’t. Although if you wanted a pet, I’d buy one.” He looked suspiciously at the open box that was sitting by the door.

“What was in your gift from Paul?”

Julia shrugged, pretending that she hadn’t known that question

was coming . “A bottle of maple syrup, which I gave to Dad, and a couple of toys.”

“Toys? What kind of toys?”

She appeared indignant. “Children’s toys, of course.”

“Didn’t he give you a toy bunny a couple of months ago? I think

he has some kind of rabbit fetish.”

Angelfucker.

“Gabriel, you have a fetish for women’s shoes. Professor Pot, meet Mr. Kettle.”

“I’ve never denied my aesthetic appreciation for women’s footwear.

They’re works of art, after all,” he said primly. “Especially when a woman as lovely as you is wearing them.”

She couldn’t help smiling. “He gave me a stuffed Holstein and

a pair of Dante and Beatrice figurines.”

Gabriel’s face manifested a look of intense perplexity. “Figurines?”

His mouth widened into a provocative smile. “Don’t you mean action figures?”

“Figurines, action figures. Whatever.”

“Are they anatomically correct?”

“Now who’s being a child?”

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He reached over to trace the curve of her cheek. “I was just

wondering what kind of action they were capable of participating in — privately, of course.”

“Dante would be rolling over in his grave.”

“We could re-enact that event by taking Paul’s action figure and

burying it in the back yard. But I’d like to keep Beatrice.”

“You’re incorrigible.” Julia couldn’t help but laugh. “Thank you

for my presents. And thank you for taking me to Italy, which was

the best present of all.”

“You’re welcome.” He cupped her face in his hands and searched

her eyes for a moment before pressing their lips together.

What started as a shy, closed mouth kiss quickly escalated until

feverish, needy hands pulled and grasped at one another. Julia stood on tiptoes, pressing against his naked chest. Gabriel groaned with frustration and gently pushed himself back. He moved his glasses

so he could rub his eyes.

“I’d rather continue what we were just doing, but Richard wants

us to go to church.”

“Good.”

Gabriel replaced his glasses. “Wouldn’t a nice Catholic girl like

you prefer to go to Mass?”

“It’s the same God. I’ve gone to church with your family before.”

Julia searched his expression. “Don’t you want to go?”

“Church is not the place for me.”

“Why not?”

“I haven’t gone in years. They’ll…judge me.”

She looked up at him in earnest. “We’re all sinners. If only non-

sinners went to church, the churches would be empty. And I doubt

very much that the people in Richard’s church will judge you. Epis-copalians are very welcoming.”

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and disappeared into the

bedroom to lay out her clothes. He followed her into the bedroom

and collapsed on the bed, watching her rifle through the hangers

in the closet.

“Why do you still believe in God? Aren’t you angry with him for

all of the things that happened to you?”

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Gabriel’s Rapture

Julia paused what she was doing in order to regard him. He

looked very unhappy.

“Bad things happen to everyone. Why should my life be any

different?”

“Because you’re good.”

She looked at her hands. “The universe isn’t based on

magic — there isn’t one set of circumstances for the good and one

for the evil. Everyone suffers sometime. The question is what you

do with your suffering, right?”

He gazed at her impassively.

She continued. “Maybe the world would be a lot worse if God

didn’t exist.”

He cursed softly, but didn’t argue.

She sat next to him on the bed. “Did you ever read The Brothers Karamazov?”

“It’s one of my favorites.”

“Then you know the conversation between Alyosha, the priest,

and his brother Ivan.”

Gabriel snickered, but not unkindly. “I suppose I’m the rebellious free thinker, and you’re the religious boy?”

Julia ignored him. “Ivan gives Alyosha a list of reasons why ei-

ther God doesn’t exist or if he exists, that he’s a monster. It’s a very powerful discussion, and I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it.

“But remember how Ivan ends his discussion. He says he rejects

God’s creation, this world, and yet, there’s one aspect of the world that he finds surprisingly beautiful — the sticky little leaves he sees on the trees in the spring. He loves them even though he hates the world around them.

“The sticky little leaves aren’t faith or salvation. They’re the remnant of hope. They stave off his despair, demonstrating that despite the evil he has seen, there is at least one good and beautiful thing left.”

She moved so she could see Gabriel’s expression more clearly, and

very tenderly, she placed a hand on either side of his face. “Gabriel, what are your sticky little leaves?”

Her question took him entirely by surprise. So much so he sim-

ply sat there, staring at the pretty brunette in front of him. It was in moments like this that he remembered why he’d initially thought 101

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she was an angel. She had a compassion about her that was rare in

human beings. At least, in his experience.

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it before.”

“Mine was Grace. And you.” She smiled at him shyly. “And even

before that, there were the Salvation Army workers back in St. Louis who were kind to me when my mother wasn’t. They gave me a reason

to believe.”

“But what about the suffering of the innocent? Of children?”

Gabriel’s voice was barely above a whisper. “What about the babies?”

“I don’t know why babies die. I wish they didn’t.” Julia wore a

grave expression.

“But what’s wrong with the rest of us, Gabriel? Why do we allow

people to abuse their children? Why don’t we defend the sick and

the weak? Why do we let soldiers round up our neighbors and make

them wear a star on their clothing and cram them into boxcars? It

isn’t God who’s evil — it’s us.

“Everyone wants to know where evil comes from and why the

world is riddled with it. Why doesn’t anyone ask where goodness

comes from? Human beings have a tremendous capacity for cruelty.

Why is there any goodness at all? Why are people like Grace and

Richard so kind? Because there’s a God, and he hasn’t allowed the

earth to be entirely corrupted. There are sticky little leaves, if you look for them. And when you recognize them, you can feel his presence.”

Gabriel closed his eyes, drinking in her words with her touch,

knowing in his heart that she had spoken a very deep, very profound truth.

Try as he might, he could never stop believing; even in his dark-

est days the light had not gone out. He’d had the guidance of Grace, and providential y, when she died, he met his Beatrice again, and

she’d shown him the rest of the way.

He kissed her chastely, and when she left him to shower, he

marveled at her quiet brilliance. She was far more intelligent than he, since her intellect was marked with a true creative originality that he only dreamed of having. Despite everything that had happened

to her, she had not lost faith or hope or charity.

She is not my equal; she is my better.

She is my sticky little leaf.

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P

An hour later Julia and Gabriel drove to All Saints Episcopal

Church. Gabriel wore a black suit and white shirt, proudly displaying Julia’s cufflinks, while she wore a plum-colored dress that skimmed the bottom of her knees, and tal black boots that he’d purchased

for her in Florence.

A sea of awkwardness. That’s how Gabriel would have described the atmosphere as he sat with Julianne at the end of the family pew.

He was grateful for the liturgy, the order, and the way in which

Scripture and music were used in the service. He found himself

contemplating his life and the steps that led him to the beautiful woman who held his hand throughout the service.

Christmas was a celebration of birth — one birth in particular.

All around him he saw babies and children: the manger scene at the front of the church, the banners and stained glass windows, and the glowing skin of the pregnant woman who was seated across the aisle.

In one brief moment, Gabriel realized that he regretted his ster-

ilization, not just for himself and the fact that he was no longer able to father a child, but also for Julianne. He imagined lying in bed with a very pregnant Julia and placing his hand on her stomach in order to feel their child kick. He thought about holding their infant son in his arms, shocked by the array of dark hair on his head.

His imaginings startled him. They marked a shift in character

and priority, away from the guilt and selfishness that had marked

his life up until the reappearance of his Beatrice. A shift toward the permanence of a commitment to a woman with whom he wanted to

create a family, with whom he wanted to create a child. His love for Julianne had changed him in multiple ways. He hadn’t been aware

of how dramatic the changes were until he gazed at the pregnant

stranger with a kind of wistful envy.

Those were the thoughts that occupied his mind as he held Ju-

lianne’s hand until it was time to participate in the Eucharist. He was the only one in the family pew who didn’t stand and file to the center aisle in order to walk to the communion rail.

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There was something comforting about church, he thought. Al-

though he found the overall experience, especially the homily, con-victing. He had wasted a good deal of his life — years that he could never get back.

He hadn’t told Grace the things he’d wanted to tell her before

she died. He hadn’t treated Paulina or Julianne with the dignity that they deserved. He hadn’t treated any of the women with whom he’d

been involved with respect.

In thinking of Paulina, Gabriel tore his eyes away from the dark

haired woman in the pretty plum dress and hung his head, praying

almost unconsciously for forgiveness and also for guidance. He was walking a tightrope, he knew, between taking responsibility for his past indiscretions and eliminating Paulina’s dependence on him. He prayed that she would be able to find someone who would love her

and help her put the past behind her.

Gabriel was so deep in prayer that he didn’t notice his family

squeeze past him to retake their seats, or Julia’s warm hand snake through the crook at his elbow, pressing herself soothingly to his side. And he didn’t notice the moment in the service, just before

the benediction, when his father broke down into silent, shoulder-

shaking tears, and Rachel placed her arm around him, leaning her

blond head to his shoulder.

The Kingdom of Heaven is like a family, thought Julia, as she watched Rachel and Scott hug their father. Where love and forgiveness replace tears and suffering.

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Chapter 11

After lunch, Rachel marshaled her family into helping her prepare

the large turkey dinner. Julia spoke briefly to Tom on the phone,

exacting his promise that he would arrive around three o’clock in

order to participate in the gift exchange, then she and Rachel parked themselves in the kitchen to peel apples for a pair of pies.

Rachel had cheated and bought the pastry, but had removed it

from its Pillsbury packaging and placed it in between layers of plastic wrap in the refrigerator so no one would know.

“Hey, pretty girls.” Scott entered the kitchen, wearing an overly

large grin, and began rummaging in the fridge.

“What has you so happy?” asked his sister, peeling an apple.

“The Christmas season.” He chuckled as Rachel stuck her tongue

out at him.

“I hear you met someone,” prompted Julia.

Scott began assembling a plate of leftovers, ignoring her comment.

Rachel was about to reprove her brother for his bad manners

when the telephone rang. She answered it, disappearing into the

dining room when she discovered it was her future mother-in-law.

Scott turned around immediately and gave Julia an apologetic

look. “Her name is Tammy. I’m not ready for everyone to give her

the third degree.”

“I understand.” Julia gave him a small smile and returned to the

apple she was peeling.

“She has a kid,” he blurted. He leaned his large body back against the counter, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Julia put her paring knife down. “Oh.”

Sylvain Reynard

“He’s three months old. They live with her parents. She couldn’t

come without him because she’s breastfeeding.” Scott’s voice was low, just above a whisper, and his eyes kept traveling to the doorway that led to the living room.

“When you introduce her to your family, you should bring him

too. They’ll welcome both of them.”

“I’m not so sure.” Scott looked very uncomfortable.

“They’ll be happy to have a baby around. Rachel and I will fight

over him.”

“What would you think if your son came home with a girlfriend

who was a single mother? And the baby belonged to another guy?”

“Your parents adopted Gabriel. I don’t think your dad would

object.” Julia exhaled slowly, giving Scott a searching look. “Unless your girlfriend is married.”

“What? No! Her ex-boyfriend left her when she was pregnant.

We’ve been friends for a while.” He ran his fingers through his hair, pulling on it so it almost stood straight on end. “I’m worried my Dad will think it’s weird for me to be dating a woman with a newborn.”

Julia pointed in the direction of the manger scene that was dis-

played under the Christmas tree in the next room.

“Joseph and Mary had a similar story.”

Scott looked at her as if she’d sprouted a second head.

Then he chuckled, turning back to his sandwich. “That’s a good

point, Jules. I’ll have to remember that.”

P

Later that afternoon, the family gathered around the Christmas

tree to open gifts. The Clarks were a generous family, and there were lots of presents, some serious, some in jest. Julia and her father each received their fair share.

When everyone was admiring their gifts and drinking egg nog,

Rachel plunked the last present on Gabriel’s lap. “This arrived for you this morning.”

“Who is it from?” He eyed it in confusion.

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“I don’t know.”

Gabriel gave Julia a hopeful look, but she shook her head.

Eager to uncover the mystery, he began to rip off the wrapping

paper. He slid his fingers in between the cover of the white box and its bottom, separating the two, lifted the lid of the box carefully, and peeled back the layers of white tissue paper.

Before anyone could see what he’d uncovered, he shoved the box

aside, springing to his feet. Without a word, he strode quickly to the back door, slamming it behind him.

“What was it?” Scott’s voice broke the silence.

Aaron, who witnessed what had just transpired from the hallway,

entered the room. “I bet it’s from his ex. I’d lay money on it.”

Julia stumbled to the kitchen and across the back porch, follow-

ing her lover’s retreating form.

“Gabriel? Gabriel! Wait.”

Large, fat snowflakes fell like feathers from the sky, blanketing

the grass and trees in cold whiteness. She shivered.

“Gabriel!”

He disappeared into the woods without a backward glance.

She hastened her pace. If she lost sight of him she’d have to

return to the house. She wouldn’t risk being lost in the woods again without a coat. Or a map.

She began to panic, remembering her recurrent nightmare about

being trapped in the woods, alone. “Gabriel! Slow down.”

Pushing her way into the trees, she traveled a few feet before she saw him, pausing in front of a tall pine.

“Go back to the house.” The arctic tone of his voice matched

the falling snow.

“I’m not leaving you.”

She walked a few more steps. At the sound of her approach, he

turned around. He was clad in a suit and tie, wearing expensive Italian shoes that were now ruined.

One of her high heels caught on a branch, and she pitched for-

ward, breaking her fall by clinging to the trunk of a tree.

Gabriel was at her side in an instant. “Go back to the house

before you get hurt.”

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“No.”

Her hair was long and curling over her shoulders, arms now

crossed in front of her chest because of the cold. A light dusting of white covered her head and her plum dress.

She looked like a snow angel — a figure one might find in a fairy

tale or a snow globe, the dancing flakes hovering around her like

friends. He was reminded of the time he surprised her in his library carrel and a ream of paper had been tossed into the air, falling all around her.

“Beautiful.” He was momentarily distracted by the sight of her.

The warmth of his mouth caused his words to form clouds in the

air between them.

She held out her pink and naked hand. “Come back with me.”

“She’s never going to let me go.”

“Who?”

“Paulina.”

“She needs to start a new life. She needs your help.”

“Help?” He glared at her. “You want me to help her? After she got on her knees and tried to take my pants down?”

“What?”

He clenched his teeth, cursing his own stupidity. “Nothing.”

“Don’t lie to me!”

“It was a desperate attempt by a desperate woman.”

“Did you say no?”

“Of course! What do you take me for?” His eyes flamed a dan-

gerous blue.

“Were you surprised?”

A muscle jumped in his jaw. “No.”

Julia closed her hands so tightly her nails dug into her palms.

“Why?”

Gabriel glanced at the trees behind her, unwilling to answer her

question.

“Why weren’t you surprised?” she repeated, her voice growing

louder.

“Because this is what she does.”

“Does or did?”

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“What’s the difference?” he snapped.

Julia’s eyes narrowed. “If I have to explain it to you, then we are more damaged than I thought.”

He didn’t want to answer her. His recalcitrance was telegraphed

by his eyes, his face, even his body.

She gave him a piercing stare.

Gabriel’s eyes flickered over her shoulder, into the distance, al-

most as if he were looking for an escape. Then he looked at her again.

“She’d show up on occasion and we’d…” His voice trailed off.

Julia felt ill. She screwed her eyes shut. “When I asked if Paulina was your mistress, you said no.”

“She was never my mistress.”

Julia’s eyes flew open. “Don’t play word games with me! Especially about your fuck buddies.”

He ground his teeth together. “That’s beneath you, Julianne.”

She laughed without amusement. “Oh, yes. It’s beneath me to

tell the truth. But you can lie through your teeth!”

“I never lied to you about Paulina.”

“Yes, you did. No wonder you were so angry when I called her

your fuck buddy in the Dante seminar. I was right.” Julia gave him a shattered look. “Were you with her in your bed? In the bed we

slept in together?”

Gabriel lowered his eyes.

She began to back away from him. “I am so angry with you right

now, I don’t know what to say.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That isn’t good enough,” she called, walking away from him.

“When was the last time you slept with her?”

He followed her quickly, reaching out to grasp her arm.

“Don’t touch me!” She pulled back, stumbling over a tree root.

Gabriel caught her before she fell. “Just wait a minute, okay?

Give me a chance to explain.” Satisfied that she was on surer footing, he released her.

“When I met you in September, things with Paulina had ended.

I hadn’t been with her since last December, when I told her that we needed to stop once and for all.”

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“You led me to believe that you ended things with her at Harvard.

Do you have any idea how much this hurts? Do you have any idea

how stupid this makes me feel? She traipses into your parents’ house as if she belongs there — as if I’m the fuck buddy. And no wonder!

You’ve been sleeping with her for years.”

Gabriel shifted his shoes in the snow. “I was trying to protect you.”

“Tread very carefully, Gabriel. Tread very, very carefully.”

He froze. He’d never heard her use that tone before. All at once,

he felt himself losing her. The mere idea was crippling.

He began speaking very quickly. “We only saw each other once

or twice a year. As I said, I haven’t been with her since last December.”

He ran his fingers through his hair. “Did you expect me to catalogue each and every sexual encounter I’ve ever had? I told you I had a past.”

Gabriel’s eyes met hers. He held her gaze, taking a tenuous step

forward.

“Do you remember the night I told you about Maia?”

“Yes.”

“You told me I could find forgiveness. I wanted to believe you.

I thought if I told you how I gave in to Paulina again and again, I’d lose you.” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Are you lying to me now?”

“No.”

Her expression was skeptical. “Do you love her?”

“Of course not.” He took another cautious step in her direction,

but she held her hand up.

“So you slept with her for years — after you made a child with

her and she had a nervous breakdown — but you didn’t love her?”

His lips thinned. “No.”

He saw tears shimmering in her big, dark eyes and watched as

she fought them, her pretty face marred with sadness. He closed the distance between them, removing his suit jacket and tenderly placing it around her shoulders.

“You’ll catch pneumonia. You should go back to the house.”

She clutched his jacket, bringing the lapels up to her neck.

“She was Maia’s mother,” Julia whispered. “And look how you

treated her.”

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Gabriel stiffened. Maia’s mother.

Julia and Gabriel stood silently, noticing briefly that the snow

had ceased falling.

“When were you going to tell me?”

Gabriel hesitated, his heart beating a furious tattoo in his chest.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he would say until the words escaped

his lips.

“I wasn’t.”

She turned around and began to walk in the direction she thought

would lead back to the house.

“Julia, wait!” He came after her, tugging at her arm.

“I told you not to touch me!” She pulled her arm back, glaring

at him furiously.

“You made it clear that you didn’t want to know the details of

what I was like before we met. You said you forgave me.”

“I did.”

“You knew I was lustful,” he reproved her, softly.

“Clearly, I thought there were limits.”

Gabriel recoiled, for her remark had cut him. “I deserved that,”

he said, the temperature of his voice rivaling that of the snow on the ground. “I didn’t tell you everything and I should have.”

“Was the Christmas gift from her?”

“Yes.”

“What was it?”

Gabriel’s shoulders slumped. “An ultrasound picture.”

Julia inhaled roughly, making a wheezing sound as the bracing

winter air filled her lungs. “Why would she do such a thing?”

“Paulina assumes I’ve kept everything secret. She’s right, of course, when it comes to my siblings. But she assumes I haven’t told you.

This was her way of ensuring I did.”

“You used her.” Julia’s teeth began chattering. “No wonder she

won’t let you go. You fed her with scraps, like a dog. Would you

treat me like that?”

“Never. I know that I treated Paulina abominably. But that doesn’t give her the right to hurt you. You’re innocent in all of this.”

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“You misled me.”

“Yes. Yes, I did. Can you forgive me?”

Julia was quiet for a moment, rubbing her hands together against

the cold. “Have you ever asked Paulina to forgive you?”

Gabriel shook his head.

“You toyed with her heart. I know what that’s like. I can have

compassion for her because of that.”

“I met you first,” he whispered.

“That doesn’t give you license to be cruel.” Julia coughed a little as the cold air burned her throat.

He pressed a light hand to her shoulder. “Please go back. You’re

cold.”

She turned to leave and Gabriel reached out to catch her hand.

“I felt something for her, but it wasn’t love. There was guilt and lust, and some affection, but never love.”

“What will you do now?”

He wrapped his arm around her waist, drawing her into his

side. “I’ll resist the urge to react to the present she left and try my damnedest to make things up to you. You’re who I want. I’m so sorry to have injured you.”

“Maybe you’ll change your mind.”

He held her more tightly, his expression fierce. “You’re the only

one I have ever loved.”

When Julia didn’t respond, he began walking with her toward

the house. “I would never be unfaithful, I swear it. As far as what Paulina tried to do yesterday…” He squeezed her waist. “There was a time when I could have been led astray. But that was before I found you. I would rather spend the rest of my life drinking your love, then emptying all the oceans of the world.”

“Your promises are meaningless when they aren’t accompanied

by honesty. I asked if she was your mistress, and you played a word game with me.”

He grimaced. “You’re right. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“You’ll tire of me eventually. And when you do, you’ll go back

to what’s familiar.”

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Gabriel stopped. He turned to face her. “Paulina was never fa-

miliar. We have a history, but we were never compatible. And we

were never good for each other.”

Julia simply stared at him skeptically.

“I wandered in the darkness looking for something better, some-

thing real. I found you, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to lose you.”

She looked away, surveying the trees and the path she thought

led to the orchard. “Men get bored.”

“Only if they’re stupid.”

His eyes were dark, narrowed with concern and worry. He blinked

a little under her gaze, before frowning. “Do you think that Richard would have cheated on Grace?”

“Of course not.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s a good man. Because he loved her.”

“I make no claim to being a good man, Julia. But I love you. I’m

not going to cheat.”

She was quiet for a moment. “I’m not so wounded that I can’t

say no to you.”

“I never said you weren’t.” Gabriel looked grim.

“I’m saying no to you now. If you lie to me again, it will be the

last time.” Her voice held a warning.

“I promise.”

She exhaled slowly, unclenching her fists.

“I won’t sleep with you in the bed you shared with her.”

“I’ll have everything redone before we return to Toronto. I’ll sell the damn place, if you want.”

She pursed her lips. “I’m not asking you to sell your apartment.”

“Then forgive me,” he whispered. “Give me a chance to show

you that I am worthy of your trust.”

She hesitated.

He stepped toward her and took her in his arms. She accepted

him reluctantly, and they stood under the falling snow, in a darkening wood.

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Chapter 12

Late that evening Gabriel and Julia sat together in their pajamas on the floor next to their Charlie Brown Christmas tree. Julia encouraged Gabriel to open Paulina’s gift, so all the secrets could be revealed.

He didn’t want to do it, but for Julia’s sake, he did.

He picked up the ultrasound picture in his hand and grimaced.

Julia whispered a request to look at it, and he gave it to her with a sigh.

“This picture can’t hurt you. Even if Rachel and Scott found out,

they would be sympathetic.” She traced a finger across the curve of the baby’s little head. “You could keep this somewhere private, but she shouldn’t be kept in a box. She had a name. She deserves to be remembered.”

Gabriel placed his head in his hands. “You don’t think it’s morbid?”

“I don’t think there’s anything morbid about babies. Maia was

your daughter. Paulina meant this picture to hurt you, but really, it’s a gift. You should have this picture. You’re her father.”

Gabriel was too choked up to respond. To distract himself, he

placed the rest of Paulina’s gifts by the door. He was returning them to her as soon as possible.

Julia followed him. “I look forward to wearing your Christmas

gift.” She pointed toward the black corset and shoes that were still sitting in their box under the tree.

“You do?”

“I’ll have to give myself a pep talk first, but I think it’s feminine and very pretty. I love the shoes. Thank you.”

Gabriel’s shoulders relaxed. He wanted to ask her to try his gifts on. He wanted to see her in those shoes — perhaps perched atop

Gabriel’s Rapture

the bathroom counter with him between her legs — but he kept his

desires to himself.

“Um, I need to explain something.” Julia took his hand, weaving

their fingers together. “I can’t wear it tonight.”

“I’m sure that after the past two days wearing something like that would be the last thing you’d want to do.” Gabriel stroked the back of her hand with his thumb. “Especially with me.”

“It will be a little while before I can wear it.”

“I understand.” He began to extricate his fingers.

“I tried to explain this to you last night but, uh, I didn’t quite finish.”

He stilled.

“Um, I’m having my period.”

Gabriel’s mouth dropped open slightly. Then he closed it. He

pulled her into his arms, embracing her warmly.

“That wasn’t the reaction I was expecting.” Julia’s voice was muffled by his chest. “Maybe you didn’t hear me?”

“So last night — it wasn’t because you didn’t want me?”

She pulled back in surprise. “I’m still upset about what happened

with Paulina, but of course I want you. You always make me feel

special when we make love. Right now, I’m not going to go there.

Or actually, have you go there. Uh, you know what I mean.” She

grew flustered.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Gabriel kissed her forehead. “I have

other plans for you.”

He led her by the hand to the spacious washroom, pausing to

press play on the stereo. The strains of Sting’s “Until” began to fill the room as they disappeared through the door.

P

Paulina sat up, wide-awake in a strange bed in Toronto, covered

in a cold sweat. No amount of repetition made the dream vary in its events or its terror. No amount of vodka or pills could remove the ache in her chest or the tears from her eyes.

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She reached for the bottle by the bed, knocking the hotel’s alarm

clock off the nightstand. A few shots and a few small, blue pills and she would fall asleep again, letting the darkness take her.

She could not be comforted. Other women could have a second

child to assuage the loss of their first. But she would never bear a child. And the father of her lost baby no longer wanted her.

He was the only man she’d ever loved, and she’d loved him from

afar and then she’d loved him close by, but he’d never loved her. Not real y. But he was too noble to cast her off like the used piece of goods she was.

As she sobbed into her pillow, her head spinning, she mourned

a double loss aloud —

Maia.

Gabriel…

116

Chapter 13

Professor Giuseppe Pacciani wasn’t virtuous, but he was clever. He didn’t believe Christa Peterson when she declared that she was

willing to meet him for a sexual rendezvous. In order to ensure that their liaison actually happened, he withheld the name of Professor Emerson’s Canadian fidanzata on condition that Christa meet him in Madrid in February.

Christa was unwilling to wait that long or to sleep with him

again in order to ferret out the information, so she didn’t respond to his last email. She decided to regroup and find an alternative way of discovering the name of Professor Emerson’s fiancée.

It could be said that she was jealous and that this was her primary reason for wondering who had successfully captured the Professor’s attention when she had failed (inexplicably). It could be said that she’d begun to nurse a suspicion about a certain doe-eyed brunette, ever since Professor Emerson had almost come to blows with that

student over a mistress called Paulina.

But perhaps the most accurate explanation was her new and

rather prurient fascination with the rumors she’d heard about Professor Singer and her not-so-secret lifestyle. When Professor Emerson embraced her after his lecture at the University of Toronto, it set a good number of tongues wagging. Christa’s tongue was among them.

Perhaps Giuseppe was wrong. Perhaps the Professor did not have

a fidanzata after all. Perhaps he had a Mistress.

In order to solve this very juicy mystery, Christa contacted an old flame from Florence who wrote for La Nazione, hoping that he would provide her with information about Professor Emerson’s personal

life. While she waited for a response, she focused on an information source closer to home. In the Vestibule, all sins would be revealed.

Sylvain Reynard

Professor Emerson’s marked absence from Lobby began the

evening she tried to seduce him. So, she reasoned, his relationship with his fiancée must have begun around that time. Previously, he

hadn’t cared who he hooked up with or when. Or perhaps he and

his fiancée had been involved only causally until that fateful night.

It was possible that the Professor was far from monogamous in his

relationship and that he’d had a fiancée all along, although such an attachment would have likely made the rounds of the rumor mill.

(Toronto is, after all, a small town.)

Christa’s way forward was clear. It was likely that the Professor

and his fiancée had visited Lobby sometime over the course of the

winter semester, since it appeared to be his watering hole of choice.

All she needed to do was to find someone who worked at the club

and pump him for information.

Late on a Saturday night, Christa stalked the staff at Lobby, trying to discover the weakest link. She sat at the bar, absolutely ignoring the tall, blond American woman who was there for the same purpose, having just flown in from Harrisburg. Christa’s full, red lips curled back in disgust when the woman pulled out her iPhone and spoke

very loudly in Italian to a maître d’ called Antonio.

As the night wore on, Christa soon realized her options were few.

Ethan had a serious girlfriend, which meant that he wouldn’t be ripe for the picking. More than one of the bartenders were gay, and all the servers were women. Which left Lucas.

Lucas was a computer geek (not that there’s anything wrong

with that) who assisted Ethan with security at the club, in a technical capacity. Lucas had access to the video recordings from the security cameras, and it was he who rather enthusiastically agreed to let Christa into the club after hours so they could sift through CD upon CD of footage, starting with September 2009.

And that was how Christa found herself sitting on the vanity in

the women’s washroom with Lucas pounding into her on a Sunday

morning when she should have been in church.

P

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Gabriel’s Rapture

Gabriel and Julia arrived back in Toronto late in the evening on

January first. They went to Julia’s apartment so she could drop off some things and retrieve some clean clothes. Or so Gabriel thought.

With the taxi waiting at the curb for them to return, he stood in the middle of her cold and shabby apartment expecting her to pack an

overnight bag. She didn’t.

“This is my home, Gabriel. I’ve been gone for three weeks. I need

to do laundry, and I need to work on my thesis tomorrow. Classes

start on Monday.”

His expression grew very dark very quickly.

“Yes, I’m aware of when classes begin.” His tone was clipped. “But it’s freezing in here. You don’t have any food, and I don’t want to sleep without you. Come home with me, and you can return tomorrow.”

“I don’t want to go home with you.”

“I told you I’d have the master bedroom redone, and it has been.

The bed, the furniture, it’s all new.” He grimaced. “They even painted the walls.”

“I’m still not ready.” She turned her back on him and began un-

packing her suitcase. He took one look at her activities and strode through the apartment door, closing it somewhat loudly behind him.

Julia sighed.

He was trying, she knew. But his revelations had scorched holes

in her already fragile self-confidence, a self-confidence that had only begun to be rebuilt during their time in Italy. She knew herself well enough to know that her fear of losing him was grounded in her

parents’ divorce and in Simon’s betrayal. Although she knew all these things, it was very difficult to will herself to disregard them and to believe that Gabriel’s love would never wane.

She’d just walked to her door to bolt it when he walked in, suit-

case in hand. “What are you doing?”

“Keeping you warm,” he said stiffly.

Gabriel placed his suitcase down and disappeared into the bath-

room, closing the door behind him. He emerged a few minutes later

with his shirt untucked and unbuttoned, muttering something about

having successfully turned on her damned electric heater.

“Why did you come back?”

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Sylvain Reynard

“I am not accustomed to sleeping without you. In fact, I’m about

ready to sell the damn condo and all my furniture and buy something else.” He shook his head and proceeded to undress unashamedly

without further conversation.

While Julia used the bathroom, Gabriel examined some of the

items she’d displayed on her card table — the book containing the

Botticelli reproductions he’d given her for her birthday, a pillar candle, a book of matches, and the photo album of pictures he’d taken of her.

As he leafed through the album, he found himself aroused. She’d

promised to pose for him again. She wanted him to photograph her.

A month earlier he never would have believed that such a thing could come to pass. She’d been so timid, so nervous.

He recalled the look she had in her eyes when he took her to

his bed after their horrible argument in his seminar. Thinking of

Julianne’s eyes, large and terrified, and the way her body trembled under his hands, diminished his arousal. He didn’t deserve her. He knew that. But her own perceived unworthiness prevented her from

seeing the truth.

He flipped through the pictures before focusing on one — Juli-

anne in profile with his hand on her shoulder, his other hand holding up her hair, while he pressed his lips to her shapely neck.

She was unaware of the fact that he had a copy of that picture

hiding in his closet. He’d never displayed it, for he was worried about her reaction. When he returned to his newly redecorated bedroom,

hanging that photograph would be his first task.

The thought alone was more than enough to fuel his desire, so

he took the candle and struck a match to light it, placing it on the card table before turning out the lights. A romantic glow fell over the photographs and the bed just as Julia entered the darkened space.

He sat on the edge of her narrow bed, completely naked, while

she stood clutching a pair of worn flannel pajamas. They had rubber duckies on them.

“What are you doing?” He glanced at her sleepwear with barely

disguised distaste.

“I’m getting ready for bed.”

Gabriel stared. “Come here.”

She walked over to him slowly.

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Gabriel’s Rapture

He took the fabric from her, tossing it aside. “You don’t need

pajamas. You don’t need to wear anything.”

Julia carefully proceeded to disrobe in front of him, placing her

clothes on one of the folding chairs.

He paused her movement toward the bed and placed his hands

on top of her head, almost as if he were blessing her. Then he began to touch her, passing his fingers through her long hair to her face, where he caressed her eyebrows and cheekbones. His eyes remained

stubbornly fixed on hers, the heat of their intensity searing into Julia’s consciousness.

In her whole life, no one had ever looked at her like that. Like

a blue tractor beam that froze her and pulled her in. Like she was the only woman in the room, in the world, the only woman ever.

Like she was Eve.

Something of the old Professor Emerson was visible now, espe-

cially in his expression, which was sexual and raw. She closed her eyes briefly, and his hands moved from her neck to her face, pausing for a moment.

“Open your eyes.”

She opened them and gasped at the hunger reflected back to her.

He was like a lion, eager to feed but still stalking his prey. He didn’t want to scare her off. But she was helpless in her own desire for him.

“Have you missed me touching you like this?” he asked, his voice

a scorching whisper.

Julia’s affirmation escaped her mouth as a strangled groan. Ga-

briel’s chest swelled with pride.

It was a long journey from her face to her knees, and he seemed to enjoy it, pausing slowly at different parts, his touch light but heated.

She felt warm beneath his gentle fingers, despite the coldness of the room. As soon as she thought of the cold, she flinched.

Gabriel stopped his explorations immediately, and moved aside

to allow her to crawl into bed, closest to the wall. He pressed his chest to her back, pulling the purple duvet over their naked bodies.

“I’ve missed making love with you. It was as if one of my limbs

was missing.”

“I missed you too.”

He smiled his relief. “I’m very glad to hear that. It was tortuous to go a week without being able to touch you like this.”

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“It was tortuous to go a week without being able to feel you

touching me.”

The stirrings of desire in her voice set fire to Gabriel’s blood.

He tightened his hold on her, squeezing gently. “Cuddling is a very important component to making love.”

“I would never have pegged you as a cuddler, Professor Emerson.”

He drew some skin from her neck into his mouth, sucking it

lightly. “I have become a great many things since you made me your lover.” He placed his face in her hair, inhaling her vanilla scent deeply.

“Sometimes I wonder if you realize how much you’ve changed me.

It’s no less than miraculous.”

“I’m no miracle worker. But I love you.”

“And I love you.” He was quiet for a moment or two, which sur-

prised her. She had expected him to begin making love immediately.

“You never told me what happened at Kinfolks restaurant the

day before Christmas.” Gabriel tried to sound relaxed, for he didn’t want her to think he was scolding her.

In the hope of ending the conversation quickly so they could

move on to other activities, Julia described her altercation with Natalie.

She left out the part where Natalie had mocked her sexual encounters with him in front of everyone. Gabriel rolled her onto her back so he could see her face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It was too late for you to do anything.”

“I love you, damn it! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Paulina was waiting for us when we returned to the house.”

He scowled. “Right. So you threatened your former roommate

with a newspaper article?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think she believed you?”

“She wants out of Selinsgrove. She wants to be Simon’s official

girlfriend and hang on his arm at political events in Washington. She isn’t going to do anything to jeopardize that.”

“Doesn’t she have all that now?”

“Natalie is Simon’s dirty little secret. Which is why it took me so long to figure out he was fucking her.”

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Gabriel’s Rapture

Gabriel winced. Julia didn’t use profanity often, and when she

did, it was jarring.

“Look at me.” He pressed his forearms into the mattress on either

side of her shoulders.

She looked up into concerned blue eyes.

“I’m sorry he hurt you. I’m also sorry I didn’t do more damage

to his face when I had the chance. But I can’t say I’m sorry he went after your roommate. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here with me.”

He kissed her, his hand tracing the curve of her neck until she

sighed contentedly into his mouth.

“You are my sticky little leaf. My beautiful, sad, sticky little leaf, and I want to see you happy and whole. I’m sorry for every tear I’ve made you shed. I hope that someday you’ll be able to forgive me.”

She hid her face in the crook of his shoulder as she clutched him

closer. Her hands explored his body until they were one. The silent air of her tiny studio was broken only by heavy breathing and muffled

pants and her own voice moaning to a fevered pitch.

It was a subtle language — this shared language of lovers: the

reciprocation of sigh and groan, anticipation growing and feeding

until groans became cries and cries became sighs once more. Gabriel’s body covered hers completely, a delicious weight of man and sweat

and naked skin upon naked skin.

This was the joy that the world sought — sacred and pagan all at

once. A union between two dissimilars into a seamless one. A picture of love and deep satisfaction. An ecstatic glimpse of the beatific vision.

Before Gabriel withdrew from her, he pressed one more kiss to

her cheek. “Will you?”

“Will I what?”

“Forgive me for deceiving you about Paulina. For taking advan-

tage of her.”

“I can’t forgive you on her behalf. Only she can do that.” Julia

chewed at her bottom lip. “Now, more than ever, you need to see

that she gets help so she can move on with her life. You owe her that.”

He wanted to say something, but somehow the strength of her

goodness silenced him.

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Chapter 14

As the semester unfolded, Julia was under tremendous pressure to

complete her thesis, and Katherine Picton was pushing her to

submit chapters more quickly. Quicker chapters would make it easier to speak more specifically about Julia’s abilities to Greg Matthews, the Chair of the Department of Romance Languages at Harvard,

should he follow up on her reference letter.

Julia couldn’t concentrate when Gabriel was around. Her voice

grew soft when she told him why. Something about blue eyes and

sexual pyrotechnics and a chemistry that vibrated in the air between them, all of which kept her from focusing on the tasks at hand. Gabriel was extremely flattered.

So the happy couple worked out a compromise. There would be

telephone calls and texts and the occasional Gmail, but apart from a lunch or dinner during the week, Julia would stay at her apartment.

On Friday afternoons she would arrive at Gabriel’s in order to spend the weekend with him.

One Wednesday evening in mid-January, Julia called Gabriel

after her homework was done.

“I had a rough day,” she said, sounding tired.

“What happened?”

“Professor Picton is making me scrap about three-quarters of

one of my chapters because she thinks I’m offering a Romanticized

version of Dante.”

“Ouch.”

“She hates the Romantics, so you can imagine how annoyed she

was. She went on and on about it. She makes me feel stupid.”

Gabriel’s Rapture

“You aren’t stupid.” Gabriel chuckled into the phone. “Professor

Picton makes me feel stupid sometimes.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

“You should have seen me the first time I was summoned to her

house. I was more nervous than I was on the day I defended my

dissertation. I almost forgot to wear pants.”

Julia laughed. “I can only imagine that a pantless Professor Em-

erson would be very well received.”

“Thankfully, I didn’t have to find out.”

“Professor Picton told me that ‘my strong work ethic makes up

for my occasional lapses in reasoning.’”

“That’s high praise coming from her. She thinks most people fail

to reason at all. The way she describes the world today, most people are monkeys who happen to wear clothes. On occasion.”

Julia groaned, rolling onto her stomach. “Would it kill her to tell me that she likes my thesis? Or that I’m doing a good job?”

“Katherine will never tell you that she likes your thesis. She thinks positive feedback is patronizing. This is simply the way those old, pretentious Oxonians are.”

“You aren’t like that, Professor Emerson.”

Gabriel found himself twitching at the mere change in her tone.

“Oh, yes I am, Miss Mitchell. You’ve simply forgotten.”

“You’re sweet with me now.”

“I should hope so,” he whispered, his voice almost breaking. “But

remember, you’re my lover, not my student.” He grinned wickedly.

“Except in the ways of love.”

She laughed, and he found himself laughing with her.

“I finished the book you lent me, A Severe Mercy.”

“That was quick. How did you manage that?”

“I’m loneliest at night. I’ve been reading to help me fall asleep.”

“You have no reason to be lonely. Take a cab to my place. I’ll

keep you company.”

Julia rolled her eyes. “Yes, Professor.”

“Okay, Miss Mitchell. So how was the book?”

“I’m not sure why Grace liked it so much.”

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“Why?”

“Well, it’s a romantic love story. But when they became Christians, they decided their love for each other was pagan — that they’d made idols of one another. That made me sad.”

“I’m sorry it saddened you. I haven’t read it, although Grace used to talk about it.”

“How could love be pagan, Gabriel? I don’t understand.”

“You’re asking me that question? I thought I was the pagan in

this relationship.”

“You aren’t a pagan. You told me so yourself.”

He sighed thoughtfully. “So I did. You know as well as I that

Dante views God as the only thing in the universe who can satisfy

the longings of the soul. This is Dante’s implicit critique of Paolo and Francesca’s sin. They forego a higher good — the love of God — for the love of a human being. Of course, that’s a sin.”

“Paolo and Francesca were adulterers. They shouldn’t have fallen

in love with each other in the first place.”

“That’s true. But even if they were unmarried lovers, Dante’s criticism would be the same. If they love one another to the exclusion

of everything and everyone else, then their love is pagan. They’ve made idols of one another and their love. And they’re also very foolish, because no human being can ever make another human being

completely happy. Human beings are far too imperfect for that.”

Julia was stunned. Although there were aspects of Gabriel’s ex-

planation that she knew already, it truly surprised her to hear such words from his lips.

It appeared that she was a pagan about her love of Gabriel, and

she hadn’t even realized it. Moreover, if he actually believed what he was saying, then he had a much less exalted view of their attachment.

She was shocked.

“Julianne? Are you still there?”

She cleared her throat. “Yes.”

“It’s just a theory. It has nothing to do with us.”

He spoke the words, but the unease remained. He knew that he’d

made an idol of Julianne, his Beatrice, and no denial or sophisticated rhetoric could make that truth false. Given all the time he’d spent in a twelve-step program that encouraged him to focus on a higher

power and not himself, his lovers or his family, he knew better.

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“So why did Grace like this book? I don’t understand.”

“I don’t know,” said Gabriel. “Maybe when Richard swept her off

her feet she viewed him as a savior. He married her, and they rode off into the sunset of Selinsgrove.”

“Richard is a good man,” Julia murmured.

“He is. But Richard is not a god. If Grace married him thinking

that all her troubles would disappear because of his perfection, their relationship would not have lasted. She would have become disil-lusioned eventually, and she would have left him in order to find

someone else to make her happy.

“Perhaps the reason why Richard and Grace were so happily mar-

ried was because they had realistic expectations; they didn’t expect one another to meet all their needs. It would also explain why a spiritual dimension was so important to each of them.”

“Maybe you’re right. My book is a lot different from the Graham

Greene novel you were reading.”

“They aren’t so different.”

“Your novel is about an affair and a man who hates God. I Wikied

it.”

Gabriel resisted the urge to growl. “Don’t Wiki things, Julianne.

You know that website is unreliable.”

“Yes, Professor Emerson,” she purred.

He groaned.

“Why do you think Greene’s protagonist hates God? Because

his lover gave him up for God. We both read a novel about pagans, Julianne. It’s just the endings that were different.”

“I’m not sure they were so different.”

Gabriel smiled in spite of himself. “I think it’s a bit late for us to be having this conversation. I’m sure you’re tired, and I have some paperwork I need to do.”

“I love you. Madly.”

Something about the way her voice sounded in his ear made

his heart quicken.

“I love you too. I love you far too much, I’m sure. But I don’t

know how to love you any other way.” His final words were a whisper, but they burned in the air.

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“I don’t know how to love you any other way, either,” she whis-

pered back.

“Then God have mercy on us both.”

P

If you were to ask Gabriel if he wanted to be in therapy, he would have said no. He didn’t relish the idea of talking about his feelings or his childhood, or being forced to relive what happened with Paulina.

He didn’t want to talk about his addictions or Professor Singer and the myriad other women he’d bedded.

But he wanted a future with Julia, and he wanted her to be

healthy — to bloom fully and not just partially. He privately worried that he was somehow impairing her ability to blossom, just because he was, well, Gabriel.

So he vowed to do everything in his power to support her, in-

cluding changing his behavior for the best and focusing more on her needs. In so doing, he recognized that he could do with an objective evaluation of his own selfishness and some practical advice as to

how to overcome it. Consequently, he was determined to brave the

discomfort and embarrassment of admitting he needed help and see

a therapist on a weekly basis.

As the days of January slipped by, it became abundantly clear

that both Gabriel and Julia were very fortunate in their choice of therapists. Drs. Nicole and Winston Nakamura were a married couple who sought to work with clients on their psychological and personal issues with a view to integrating those considerations with both

existential and spiritual pursuits.

Nicole was concerned about the nature of Julia’s relationship

with her boyfriend. She worried that the power differential between Julia and Gabriel, coupled with his strong personality and Julia’s diminished self-confidence, would make their romantic relationship more of a mental health hazard to Julia than a help.

But Julia claimed to be in love with Gabriel and to be very happy

with him, and it was clear that she derived a lot of pleasure and no small amount of security from their relationship. However, the strange account of how they met and then met again, when added to certain

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Gabriel’s Rapture

facts about Gabriel’s past and his addictive personality, raised all sorts of red flags in Nicole’s mind. The fact that Julia did not recognize these red flags showed more about her own psychological state than she could reasonably realize.

Winston pulled no punches, informing Gabriel that he was plac-

ing his recovery in jeopardy by continuing to drink alcohol and by failing to go to Narcotics Anonymous meetings. What was supposed

to be an introductory meeting exploded into an angry confrontation, which resulted in Gabriel storming out of the office.

Nevertheless, Gabriel returned to his next session, promising

that he would attend Narcotics Anonymous meetings. He attended

one or two and never returned.

129

Chapter 15

S nowfall in the city is very different from snowfall in the country, thought Julia, as she and Gabriel walked through the cascading

flakes to his building so he could pick up his car. Tonight would be an evening of celebration at a fancy French restaurant, Auberge du Pommier.

Gabriel tugged on Julia’s arm and pulled her into the doorway

of a shop, kissing her firmly as he backed her into a wall of glass. She giggled breathlessly when he finished, and in return, dragged him

out to the sidewalk so they could admire the falling snow.

In the country, you can hear the snow whispering around you,

the large, fat flakes unfettered by skyscrapers and office buildings.

In the city, the wind drives the snow in between the tall buildings, but the snowfall is lessened considerably by the many obstacles. Or so Julia thought.

When they arrived at Gabriel’s building, she paused in front of

the large china shop that dominated the first floor. But Julia wasn’t interested in the great window of china that gazed out at her matrimonially. She was only interested in the handsome man beside her.

Gabriel wore a long black wool coat that boasted a black velvet

collar and a Burberry scarf wrapped like an ascot at his neck. The hand that clasped hers was clad in black leather gloves. But it was his hat that fascinated her.

Professor Emerson wore a beret.

She found his choice of haberdashery strangely appealing. Gabriel

had refused to succumb to the local custom of wearing knit caps or toques. A black wool beret to match his overcoat did nicely enough.

And he was very elegant in it.

Gabriel’s Rapture

“What?” His face crinkled as he watched her watching his reflec-

tion, a slow smile playing about his lips.

“You’re handsome,” she stammered, unable to take her eyes away

from his striking figure.

“You’re the attractive one, inside and out. A beautiful popsicle.”

He kissed her long and good in front of a hundred bone china

place settings, and gently pecked her ear. “Let’s take a cab to dinner.

Then I’ll be able to devote my full attention to you. I’ll run inside to take out some cash from the ATM and I’ll be back in a minute.

Unless you’d rather join me.”

Julia shook her head. “I want to enjoy the snow while it lasts.”

He snorted loudly. “This is a Canadian winter. Believe me, the

snow will last.” He moved her scarf aside to kiss her neck, and he chuckled to himself as he disappeared into the Manulife Building.

She peered through the window at the display of china and began

to admire one place setting in particular, wondering how it would

look in Gabriel’s apartment.

“Julia?”

She turned around and came face to chest with Paul. He smiled

at her and engulfed her in a warm hug. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” she responded somewhat nervously, worrying that

Gabriel would surprise them.

“You look great. Did you have a good Christmas?”

“Very good. I brought you a souvenir from Pennsylvania. I’ll put

it in your mailbox in the department. How was your Christmas?”

“Fine. Busy, but fine. How are your classes?”

“They’re good. Professor Picton is keeping me busy.”

“I’ll bet she is.” Paul chuckled. “Maybe we can get coffee sometime next week and you can tell me all about it.”

“Maybe.” Julia smiled back, resisting the urge to turn around and

look for Gabriel, when all of a sudden Paul’s smile slid off his face.

His dark brows came together, and he took a step closer, a scowl

clouding over his usually benign features. “What happened to you?”

Julia looked down at her winter coat but saw nothing that would

alarm him. And then she wiped at her face, wondering if Gabriel

had smeared her lip-gloss across her cheeks.

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Sylvain Reynard

But Paul was looking elsewhere. He was looking at her neck.

He came closer still, so he was truly violating her personal space, and pulled the edge of her purple pashmina aside with his bear-like paw.

“Holy God, Julia, what the hell is that?”

She flinched as one of his work-roughened fingers tentatively

skimmed the bite mark on her neck, cursing the fact that she’d ap-

parently forgotten to use concealer that morning when she applied

her make up.

“It’s nothing. I’m fine.” She moved backwards and wrapped her

pashmina around her neck twice, fussing with the ends so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

“I know what nothing looks like, and that ain’t nothing. Did

your boyfriend do that?”

“Of course not! He would never hurt me.”

Paul cocked his head to one side. “You told me he hurt you before.

I thought that was why you broke up the last time.”

Julia found herself wrapped in the coiled python grip of her lies.

She opened her mouth to protest and quickly closed it, trying to

think of something to say.

“Did he bite you out of love? Or anger?” Paul tried to keep his

voice calm. He was furious with whoever had treated Julia so violently and more than willing to track down the offender and kick his ass.

Several times.

“Owen would never do something like that. He’s never put a

violent hand on me.”

“Then damn it, Julia, what happened?”

She blinked at his anger and found herself looking down at her

boots.

“And don’t lie to me,” he breathed.

“Someone broke into my father’s house during Thanksgiving

and attacked me. That’s how I got the scar. I know it’s hideous. I’m having it removed.”

Paul was quiet for a moment as he considered what she said.

“A bite mark seems awfully personal for a burglar, don’t you think?”

Julia chewed at the inside of her mouth.

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“And why should you be ashamed of being attacked? It wasn’t your

fault.” Paul fumed. “You don’t want to tell me. I get it.” He reached out and took her hand in his, stroking the surface of her palm with his thumb. “If you need to get away from him, I can help.”

“That’s very kind, but the police caught him. He can’t reach me

here.”

Paul’s shoulders softened. “I’m your friend, Rabbit. I care about

you. Let me help you before something worse happens.”

She withdrew her hand. “I’m not a rabbit, and I don’t need

your help.”

“I didn’t mean anything by the nickname.” Paul offered her a

repentant look. “Why didn’t Owen come to your rescue? I would

have beaten the burglar to a pulp.”

She began to tell him that Owen had, in fact, rescued her but

swiftly thought better of it.

“He must not be a very good boyfriend if he allows you to be

manhandled like that.”

“I was home alone. No one could have known that someone

would break in and attack me. I’m not a damsel in distress, Paul,

despite what you might think.” Her eyes flashed.

Paul gazed at her sharply. “I never said you were a damsel in

distress. But that thing on your neck is not something a burglar

would do. It’s a fucking mark. And you have to admit that you’ve

been knocked around by a couple of people, even in the short time

I’ve known you. Christa, Professor Pain, Emerson…”

“This was different.”

“You deserve better than to be someone’s punching bag.” His

voice was soft and it made Julia shiver. “I’d never treat you like that.”

She looked into his kind, brown eyes and stood mutely, hoping

Gabriel would not appear.

Paul thrust his hands into the pockets of his coat and shifted his weight back and forth. “I’m heading over to Yonge Street to meet

some friends for dinner. Would you like to join me?”

“I’ve been out most of the day. I’m going home.”

He nodded. “I’m running late, or I’d walk you. Do you need

money for a cab?”

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“No, I’ve got it. Thanks.” She fidgeted with her gloves, adjusting the fingers. “You’re a good friend.”

“I’ll see you around.” He gave her a pained smile and began

walking away.

Julia turned to look through the glass doors of the building, but

couldn’t see Gabriel.

“Julia?” Paul called to her.

“Yes?”

“Be careful, okay?”

She nodded and waved, watching as he turned and walked away.

P

At two o’clock in the morning, Julia startled. She was in Gabriel’s bed, and his room was dark. But she was alone.

After Paul disappeared, Gabriel returned to her side. If he’d seen her exchange with Paul, he gave no sign of it, although he was somewhat quiet during their celebratory dinner. Later, when she was ready for bed, he’d kissed her on the forehead and said he’d join her soon.

Hours later, he still hadn’t come to bed.

She tiptoed down the hall. The apartment was swathed in dark-

ness. Only the light from underneath Gabriel’s study door was visible.

She stood in the hallway, listening. When she finally heard a few

clicks of the computer keys, she turned the doorknob and walked in.

To say that Gabriel was surprised would have been an understate-

ment. His eyes swung to hers, narrowed and uneasy, from behind

his glasses.

“What are you doing?” He stood up immediately, placing a large

Oxford dictionary on top of the papers that were scattered across

his desk.

“I — nothing.” She hesitated, looking down at her bare legs. She

wiggled her toes on top of the Persian carpet.

He was at her side in an instant. “Is something wrong?”

“You didn’t come to bed. I was worried.”

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Gabriel’s Rapture

Gabriel removed his glasses, rubbing his eyes. “I’ll come to bed

soon. I just have a few things to do that can’t wait.”

Julia reached up to kiss his cheek before turning to go.

“Wait. Let me tuck you in.” He took her hand in his and led her

down the dark hallway to their room.

Gone was the large medieval bed, the dark furniture, and ice

blue silk fabrics from his bedroom. Gabriel had hired an interior

designer to recreate the master bedroom he’d shared with Julia in

Umbria. Now the walls were cream-colored, and a large canopy bed

hung with gauzy curtains sat in the center of the room. Julia had

approved of the transformation and the inspiration behind it. The

room was no longer his, but theirs.

“Sweet dreams.” He pressed an almost parental kiss to her forehead before closing the bedroom door behind him.

Julia lay awake for some time, wondering what he was hiding.

She wrestled with the question of whether or not she should strive to find out or simply trust him. Without a satisfactory resolution, she fell into a troubled sleep.

135

Chapter 16

Paul couldn’t sleep. Had he been a melodramatic sort of person

he would have described his restless evening as a dark night of the soul. But Paul was from Vermont and thus not melodramatic.

Nonetheless, after a long evening over dinner and beer with players from his rugby team, Paul couldn’t get the image of Julia’s marked skin out of his mind.

He had well-defined views about how a man should treat a

woman, views that had been shaped largely by his parents. His mother and father weren’t overly demonstrative in their affection nor were they sentimental. But they always treated one another with respect.

Paul’s mother had encouraged him to treat girls like ladies, and his father had demanded the same, saying that if he ever heard of Paul treating a girl badly, he’d have to answer for his behavior.

Paul thought back to his first keg party, during his freshman year at St. Michael’s College, and how he’d run into a girl in a torn shirt on his way to the bathroom. He’d calmed her down and demanded

that she point out who had attacked her. Paul cornered her assailant and held him until the campus police showed up, but not before

roughing him up a little.

When his younger sister Heather was being tormented by boys

in junior high school, boys who made lewd comments and snapped

her bra strap against her back, he waited for the little fuckers after school and threatened them. Heather continued her education bully-free after that.

In Paul’s romantic economy, violence against women was ab-

solutely unthinkable, and he would have used his savings to get on a plane to track down the person who had marked Julia, if he only

knew the asshole’s name and location.

Gabriel’s Rapture

It was his own fault she wouldn’t talk to him, he reasoned, as he

stared at the wall of his simple apartment. He had gone all knight in shining armor on her, and she’d retreated. If he’d been less angry and more supportive, then perhaps she would have revealed what

actually happened. But he’d pushed her, and now it was unlikely that she’d ever tell him the truth.

Should I respect her by staying out of it? Or should I try to help her no matter what she says?

Paul didn’t know which arm of the dilemma he was going to

choose, but one thing he knew for sure — he was going to keep his

eye on Julia, and he’d be damned if anyone would injure her when

he was around.

P

Shortly before eleven the next morning, Julia rolled out of bed

from under Gabriel’s arm. She pul ed on one of his white Oxford

button-down shirts and stood in front of the large black and white framed photograph of Gabriel kissing her neck.

She loved the photograph but had been surprised to see it so

prominently displayed on his wall and in so large a size. It made her think back to her first visit, when she studied the black and white photographs that used to grace his walls. And he’d vomited all over her and his British-racing-green sweater.

Gabriel certainly had panache when it came to his clothing. He

would have looked good wearing nothing but a brown paper bag.

(Julia meditated on that thought for more than a few seconds.)

Leaving Gabriel to snore softly in peace, she walked to the kitchen.

As she helped herself to breakfast, she thought back to his behavior the night before.

What had he been doing in his study on a Friday night?

Before she could consider the implications of her actions, she

found herself wandering into his office. She walked over to his desk and saw that his laptop was switched off. All the papers from the

night before had been cleared away, the gleaming oak of the desktop almost bare. There was no way she was going to open his files and

desk drawers in search of his secrets.

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However, she found something on his desk that she had not

expected — a small, sterling silver frame with a black and white picture in it.

Maia.

She picked up the photo and held it in her hand, marveling

that Gabriel had progressed so far as to have the ultrasound picture framed. Lost in thought, she stood looking at it for what seemed

like a long time.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

She whirled around to find Gabriel leaning against the doorframe,

arms across his chest, clad only in a T-shirt and a pair of striped boxer shorts.

He stared a little too long at the naked flesh that peeked out

from between the top buttons and at her shapely legs. He glanced

at the picture frame and his expression shifted.

Julia quickly replaced the frame on the desk. “I’m sorry.”

Gabriel strode toward her. “I haven’t decided where to put it.”

He looked at the picture. “But I don’t want to keep it in a drawer.”

“Of course. It’s a beautiful frame,” she offered.

“I found it at Tiffany.”

Julia cocked her head to one side. “Only you would buy a frame

at Tiffany’s. I would have gone to Walmart.”

“I went to Tiffany for quite a different purpose.” He searched

her face.

Her heart skipped a beat. “Did you find what you were looking

for?”

Now his eyes burned into hers. “Absolutely. But I found it long

ago.”

Julia blinked as if she were in some sort of fog until he leaned

down to kiss her. It was a remarkable kiss. He placed his hands gently on either side of her face and then brought his lips to hers, pressing firmly before beginning his joyous movement. Within a moment,

she’d forgotten all about why she’d wandered into the study.

He stroked her tongue tenderly with his, sliding his hands

through her hair to rest on the back of her head. And when he

withdrew, he kissed her cheeks.

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Gabriel’s Rapture

“I wish I’d known you my whole life. I wish everything had been

different.”

“We’re together now.”

“That we are, my lovely. You look beautiful in my shirt.” His voice was gruff all of a sudden. “I was planning to take you out for breakfast.

There’s a small crêperie around the corner that I think you’d like.”

She took his hand gladly as he led her back to the bedroom so

they could shower together and begin their day.

Later that afternoon they worked in his study. Gabriel sat at

his desk, reading an article, while Julia sat perched in his red velvet armchair, checking her email.

Dear Julia,

I owe you an apology. I’m really sorry I upset you when I ran

into you yesterday. I didn’t mean to. I was worried about you.

If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m just a phone call away.

Hoping we can still be friends,

Paul.

PS. Christa has been asking why Professor Picton is directing

your thesis.

Julia looked over at Gabriel and found him lost in thought behind

his eyeglasses. She quickly typed a response.

Hi Paul,

Of course we’re still friends. The incident in Selinsgrove was

traumatic, and I’m trying to forget about it.

I should mention that my boyfriend saved me — in more ways

than one.

Someday I’d like to introduce you to him. He’s wonderful.

Not sure why Christa cares who is directing my thesis. I’m only

an MA student.

Thanks for the warning.

I’ll put your Christmas present in your mailbox in the

department on Monday.

It’s small but I hope you like it.

And thanks,

Julia.

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Sylvain Reynard

P

Katherine Picton lived a reserved life. She owned a nice home

in the Annex neighborhood of Toronto, which was within walking

distance to the university. She spent her summers in Italy and Christmas holidays in England. And she spent most of her time publishing articles and monographs on Dante. In other words, she lived the life of the respectable academic spinster, except that she didn’t garden or take lovers or own a bevy of cats. (Regrettably.)

Despite her age, she was very much in demand for public lec-

tures and more than one university had attempted to lure her out of retirement with promises of extravagant salaries and modest teaching responsibilities. Katherine would rather have dug the Panama Canal with her fingernails while suffering from yellow fever than give up the time she could devote to research in order to maintain an office on campus and attend faculty meetings.

So when Greg Matthews of Harvard University telephoned her

in January about an opening for an endowed chair in Dante studies, that’s what she told him.

He reacted in stunned silence before fumbling over his next

words. “But Professor Picton, we could arrange it so you wouldn’t

have to teach. All you would have to do would be to deliver a couple of lectures a semester, have a presence on campus, and supervise some doctoral students. That’s it.”

“I don’t want to move all my books,” said Katherine.

“We’ll hire a moving company.”

“They’ll mix them up and it will take weeks to put them back

in order.”

“We’ll hire special movers — movers accustomed to moving librar-

ies. They’ll take your books off the shelf, pack them in order, and replace them on your shelves here in Cambridge exactly the way they were in Toronto. You wouldn’t have to do a thing.”

“Moving companies don’t know how to catalogue books,” she

scoffed. “What if they mis-shelve something? I have thousands of

volumes in my library, and I might never be able to find what they 140

Gabriel’s Rapture

misplace. And what if they lose something? Some of those books

are irreplaceable!”

“Professor Picton, if you would accept the endowed chair, I’ll

come to Toronto and move your books personally.”

Katherine paused for a moment until she realized that Greg was

serious. Then she burst into peals of laughter.

“Harvard sounds very accommodating.”

“You have no idea,” he muttered, hoping that she would change

her mind.

“I’m not interested. There are lots of younger persons you should

be considering instead of a sixty-eight-year-old retiree. While we’re on the subject of your department, I want to talk to you about my

graduate student, Julianne Mitchell, and why I think you need to

admit her to your doctoral program.”

Katherine spent ten minutes telling Greg why it had been a

mistake for him to fail to offer Julianne adequate funding the previous year. Then Professor Picton impressed upon him the need for

Julianne to receive a lucrative fellowship beginning in September.

Finally, when she finished scolding him and effectively telling him how to do the job of the Director of Graduate Studies (which was

not, in fact, his job), she promptly hung up.

Greg stared at the phone in his hand with a look of incredulity.

P

During the last week of January, Julia was weightless, floating and happy, the skin on her neck now perfect through medical technology.

Her scar removal was healed, and no one would ever know that she’d been marked. Therapy was going well and so was her relationship

with Gabriel, although on occasion he seemed distracted and she

would have to call his name to bring him back to her.

She’d just finished an amiable coffee with Paul, during which

they discussed Christa’s recent inexplicable good mood and was on

her way to the library when she received a telephone call that would change her life. Greg Matthews offered her early acceptance into the 141

Sylvain Reynard

doctoral program in Romance Languages and Literatures at Harvard,

on a very generous fellowship, for the fall semester.

The acceptance was conditional on the satisfactory completion

of her MA at the University of Toronto, but as Professor Matthews

pointed out, given her letters of recommendation and the glow-

ing endorsement offered by Professor Picton, Julia should have no

problem completing her degree. Professor Matthews was eager to

hear Julia’s acquiescence to the offer, but he knew that most graduate students would need a little time to think about it, and so he asked her to telephone him with her decision in seven days.

Julia was surprised at how calm and professional she sounded on

the phone. Of course, she wasn’t doing much talking. After the call ended, she texted Gabriel with trembling, nervous fingers.

Harvard just called — they want me.

Conditional on my MA. Love, J.

A few minutes later, she received a reply.

Congratulations, darling. In a meeting.

My place — one hour? G.

Julia smiled at her iPhone and quickly completed her library

errands before walking to the Manulife Building. She was excited

but worried. On the one hand, her admission to Harvard was the

culmination of her dreams and hard work. On the other, Harvard

represented separation from Gabriel.

Bolstered by Doctor Nicole’s encouragement to be kind to her-

self, Julia decided to have a hot shower in order to allow herself a few minutes to think. She left a note on the hall table where Gabriel always dropped his keys and proceeded to make herself at home in

his spacious bathroom. Fifteen minutes later she was half-asleep

under the tropical rain showerhead.

“This is a welcome sight,” Gabriel whispered, opening the door

to the shower. “A warm, wet, and naked Julianne.”

“There’s room for a warm, wet, and naked Gabriel too,” she said,

grasping his hand.

He smiled. “Not right now. We should celebrate. Where would

you like to go to dinner?”

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Gabriel’s Rapture

There was a time when Julia would simply have accepted Ga-

briel’s suggestion because she wanted to make him happy. But on

this occasion, she spoke up. “Can we just stay in? I don’t want to be around a lot of people.”

“Of course. Let me change and I’ll be right back.”

By the time Gabriel returned, Julia was standing in the center

of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel.

He handed her a flute of champagne and they clinked their

glasses together.

“I have something to give to you,” he said, disappearing into the

bedroom. He returned a moment later with something crimson in

his hands. He held it up so she could read the lettering on the front.

“This was mine. I’d like you to have it.” He took her glass and

placed it next to his on the vanity, then tugged at her towel until it dropped to the floor.

Julia pulled the hooded Harvard sweatshirt over her head, stand-

ing like a nearly naked sorority girl who had just rolled out of bed with her boyfriend.

“Gorgeous,” he whispered, wrapping her in his arms and kissing

her enthusiastically. “This is quite an accomplishment, and I know that you’ve worked very hard for it. I’m proud of you.”

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.”

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“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.”

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Julia rolled her eyes. “The man I love is not the person you de-

scribed. 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.

P

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 head-

ing toward the elevator, cursing.

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Chapter 17

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.

Gabriel’s Rapture

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.

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Chapter 18

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 infrac-

tion — 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 — ”

Gabriel’s Rapture

“I was working on a job application,” he interrupted. “Greg Mat-

thews 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 instruc-tors, 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?”

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“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 com-

pleting 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.”

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Chapter 19

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 ha-

rassing 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.

Sylvain Reynard

P

“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 Black-

Berry. “I’ll text you her contact information. Ask your girlfriend to 152

Gabriel’s Rapture

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 — nega-

tive 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.

P

That same afternoon, Dean David Aras sat in his office on St.

George Street and looked at his telephone with surprise. Usual y,

his administrative assistant was much better at screening his cal s.

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.

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Sylvain Reynard

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 re-

ceived 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 assis-

tants 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 com-

plaint 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 testi-

mony, it’s quite possible a grave injustice might occur. You might be exactly what we need to clear Miss Mitchell’s name.”

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Gabriel’s Rapture

“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.

P

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.

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Sylvain Reynard

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 pant-

ies, 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.

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Gabriel’s Rapture

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 cor-

set, 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 excep-

tion 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.

P

Long after midnight, beautiful music hung in the air from Ga-

briel’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 artful y 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.”

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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?”

“Yes.”

He looked over at the door. “I think we missed our dinner because

we were feasting on — ah — other things.”

“And what a feast it was, Professor. At least there’s a fruit basket.”

She sat up, wrapping the sheet around her torso, while he walked

over to the large basket that was sitting on the coffee table. He found a Swiss army knife in the kitchenette, made an adjustment to the

music, and brought a mango with him to bed.

“I needed to match the song to the fruit,” he said, his blue eyes

sparkling. “Now lie back.”

She felt her heart rate begin to increase.

“You don’t need this.” Boldly, he pulled the sheet away. Now they

were both naked.

“Who’s singing?”

“Bruce Cockburn.”

He began cutting the mango slowly, his eyes exploring Julia’s body.

She gave him a quizzical look. “Naked lunch?”

“More like a naked midnight snack.”

With deft fingers he cut a small slice of the fruit, juice dripping from his hands and onto her abdomen. She arched an eyebrow.

“Hmmm.” He peered at the juice with an impish expression. “I’ll

have to take care of that.”

She opened her mouth as he leaned forward to feed her. “You

have a feeding fetish,” she said, licking her lips and angling for more.

He bowed before her in obeisance, his tongue snaking out to

capture the liquid from her stomach. “Pardon?” he asked.

Julia groaned incoherently.

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“It isn’t a fetish so much as an act that gives me joy. I like to care for you, and there’s something sensual about sharing food with a

lover.” He eschewed her lips to kiss her shoulder, the tip of his tongue tasting her skin. Withdrawing, he cut another slice of fruit. A few droplets fell like liquid sunshine on her left breast.

“Damn. Forgive my mess.”

He ran a sticky hand up and down her ribs, tantalizing one of

his favorite erogenous zones, before placing his lips to her chest.

“You’re killing me,” she managed as his wet mouth found her

nipple.

“I seem to recall saying that to you once. And you promised it

would be a sweet death.”

Julia opened her mouth to indicate her willingness to accept

another piece. “I should have said a sticky death.”

He placed a piece of mango on her tongue before stroking her

lower lip with his thumb.

“I’ve thought of that. Don’t worry.”

Without warning, she moved so she was straddling his lap and

placed her hands on either side of his face, pulling him toward her.

They kissed passionately for a moment before she took the mango

and knife from his hand and placed a piece temptingly in her mouth.

He gave her a heated look before he brought their lips together,

tugging the piece of fruit away with his teeth.

“Mmmmm,” she hummed. “By the way, I don’t think I ever saw

the security video from our date at the museum.”

She gently squeezed a piece of mango over his chest and began

kissing and sucking across the droplet trail.

“Ah — ah —” Gabriel had trouble finding his words. “I’ve seen

it. It’s pretty hot.”

“Really?” She sat back and languidly ate a piece of fruit in front of him, licking her fingers slowly.

“I’ll show it to you later.” He pulled her into a tight embrace, his hands sliding up and down her back. Then, when he couldn’t stand it any longer, he tossed everything aside so he could lift her into his arms.

“Where are we going?” she asked, slightly alarmed.

“To the beach.”

“But we’re naked.”

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“Our beach is private.” He kissed the tip of her nose and carried

her down to the water’s edge.

“Someone will see us,” she protested as he stepped into the sea.

“There’s only a little sliver of a moon. Anyone who came by would

only see you in silhouette. And what a view.”

He kissed her long and good, adoring her face and neck with his

lips as the gentle tide lapped against them. Then he placed her on her feet so he could press every inch of his body to hers.

“See how we fit together?” His voice was urgent. “We’re a perfect

match.”

They cupped salt water in their hands, cleaning one another’s

flesh. Julia couldn’t help but lean forward to kiss his tattoo, reveling in the way the taste of the sea mingled with the flavor of his skin.

He began kissing her neck and she could feel him smile against

her. “Have you ever seen the film From Here to Eternity?”

“No.”

“Then I need to introduce you to it.” He took her hand and led

her to the beach, where he lowered himself to the sand. “Please,” he beckoned, motioning that she should lie atop him.

“Here?” Her heart thumped wildly in her chest.

“Yes, here. I want to be inside you, but I don’t want the sand to

scratch your skin.” Gabriel pulled her down, and his mouth sought

hers eagerly as the waves gently lapped at their legs. When they cried out their pleasure, the pale moon smiled.

P

A tropical rainstorm moved through the area the following morn-

ing. While the raindrops tapped against the roof of the hut, the

couple made love slowly in a bed covered with mosquito netting.

They found their rhythm in the steady dance of the rain.

When they were both blissful, he suggested that they rinse the

sweat and humidity from their skin in the large bathtub on the ve-

randa. Reclining in vanilla-scented bubbles, Julia leaned against his chest as he wound his arms around her middle. When she was in

his arms she could almost forget the troubles that waited for them in Toronto.

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She felt safe with Gabriel. It was not that he was a powerful man, although his wealth gave him some measure of strength. It was the

way he’d confronted her bullies — first, Christa, then Simon. And

the fact that he’d excoriated her father for a lifetime of neglect.

The vulnerability of the lovers’ bed was well-known to Julia now.

She knew nakedness and intimacy, desire and burning need, and deep, deep satisfaction. But she also knew that Gabriel loved her and wished to protect her. In his arms, she felt safe, for the first time in her life.

“Saturday mornings were my favorite when I was a child.” Gabriel

interrupted her musings with a wistful voice.

Julia traced his lifeline with a single finger. “Why?”

“My mother was passed out. I could watch cartoons. This was

before we lost our cable.” He gave her a half smile, and Julia tried not to cry, thinking of Gabriel as a sad little boy whose only happiness was a few hours of cartoons.

“I used to make my own breakfast. Cold cereal or peanut butter

on toast.” He shook his head. “When we ran out of milk, which we

did frequently, I’d use orange juice.”

“How was it?”

“Awful. It wasn’t even real orange juice — it was Tang.” He stroked her hair absentmindedly. “I’m sure a psychiatrist would have much

to say about the connection between my childhood and my attach-

ment to fine things.”

Impulsively, Julia turned and threw her arms around his neck,

causing a great tidal wave of water to slosh over the sides of the tub.

“Hey, what’s all this?”

She buried her face into his shoulder. “Nothing. I just love you

so much it hurts.”

He hugged her gently. “Those things happened thirty years ago.

Grace was more of a mother to me. I regret not being with her when she died. I didn’t have the chance to say good-bye.”

“She knew, Gabriel. She knew how much you loved her.”

“I think your childhood was far more painful.”

She sniffled against his shoulder but said nothing.

“If meanness makes people ugly, your mother must have been

hideous. My mother was neglectful and indifferent, but never cruel.”

He paused, wondering if he should broach the topic both of

them had been avoiding since the advent of their vacation.

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“Once I became acquainted with Christa Peterson, I thought that

she was ugly. I owe you a debt for keeping me from sleeping with

her. Although I’d like to think that even intoxicated I have better taste than that.”

Julia withdrew, sitting back slightly and toying with the end of

a lock of her hair.

He lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Talk to me.”

“I don’t like thinking about you and Christa together.”

“Then it’s a mercy you saved me from her.”

“She’s trying to end your career.”

“The truth will out. You said yourself that Paul heard her aspira-

tions with respect to me. I’m hoping she’ll wash out of the program and we’ll both be rid of her.”

“I don’t want her to flunk,” Julia said quietly. “Then I’d be just as ugly as her, taking pleasure in her misfortune.”

Gabriel’s expression grew fierce. “She was mean to you on more

than one occasion. You should have cursed her out when you had

the chance.”

“I’m too old to call people names, whether they deserve it or not.

We don’t live in a nursery school.”

Gabriel tapped the end of her nose gently with his finger. “And

where does that wisdom come from? Sesame Street?”

“The benefits of a Catholic education,” she muttered. “Or maybe

a little Lillian Hellman.”

His eyebrows crinkled. “What do you mean?”

“Lillian Hellman wrote a play called The Little Foxes. In it a young girl tells her mother that some people eat the earth, like locusts, and others stand around and watch them do it. She promises her mother

she isn’t going to stand around and watch anymore. Instead of standing around and watching Christa’s ugliness, we need to fight her with something stronger, like charity.”

“People underestimate you, Julianne. Nevertheless, it pains me

when people fail to give you the respect that you deserve.”

Julia shrugged. “There will always be Christas in this world. And

sometimes, we become the Christas.”

He placed his chin on her shoulder. “I’ve changed my mind

about you.”

“You have?”

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Gabriel’s Rapture

“You aren’t a Dantean, you’re a Franciscan.”

She laughed. “I doubt the Franciscans would approve of me

having sex, unmarried, outside, in a bathtub.”

He brought his mouth to her ear. “Is that a promise?”

Julia shook her head and stroked his eyebrows, one at a time. “I

like to think of you as a little boy, sweet and inquisitive.”

He snorted. “I don’t know how sweet I was, but I was definitely

inquisitive. Especially about girls.” He leaned over to kiss her, and when his lips left hers she smiled.

“See? Any boy who can kiss like that can’t be all bad. St. Francis would approve.”

“I hate to tell you, but your beloved Francis wasn’t always right.

There’s a passage in the Inferno in which he argues with a demon over the soul of Guido da Montefeltro. Do you know it?”

Julia shook her head, so Gabriel recited the text for her in Italian.

“Francesco venne poi com’io fu’ morto,

(Francis came afterward, when I was dead,)

per me; ma un d’i neri cherubini

(for me; but one of the black Cherubim)

li disse: ‘Non portar: non mi far torto.

(said to him: “Take him not; do me no wrong.)

Venir se ne dee giù tra ‘ miei meschini

(He must come down among my servitors,)

perché diede ‘l consiglio frodolente,

(because he gave the fraudulent advice,)

dal quale in qua stato li sono a’ crini;

(from which time forth I have been at his hair;)

ch’assolver non si può chi non si pente,

(For who repents not cannot be absolved,)

né pentere e volere insieme puossi

(nor can one both repent and will at once,)

per la contradizion che nol consente’.”

(because of the contradiction which consents not”.) 163

Sylvain Reynard

“So you see, Julia, even St. Francis was wrong about people on

occasion. He thought Guido’s soul belonged in Paradise.”

“Yes, but it’s like Francis to think the best of someone — to think that Guido’s repentance was real and to fight for his soul,” she protested. “Even if in the end he was wrong.”

“St. Francis gave up too quickly.”

“Do you think so?”

Gabriel gazed at her intently. “If it were your soul I was after, all the dark Cherubim in Hell couldn’t keep me from you.”

A shiver snaked up and down Julia’s spine.

“I would have done whatever it took to save you.” His voice

and his expression were grave. “Even if that meant I had to spend

eternity in Hell.”

P

Gabriel and Julia spent their last full day of vacation in and out of the ocean. They sunned themselves, then relaxed in the shade with a beer and an umbrella drink. Julia nodded off in her lounge chair, her large floppy hat discarded on the sand.

Gabriel loved to watch her sleep — the way her chest rose and

fell with her gentle breathing. The way her lips curled back with the occasional sigh. She looked so peaceful. Gabriel was convinced that Grace would have been delighted that he and Julianne were a couple.

No doubt she would already be pressuring him to put a ring on her

finger and pick out china patterns.

There had been so many moments during their Valentine’s week-

end that he had wanted to bend his knee and ask her to marry him.

But not only was he worried about enacting a cliché, he was worried about her future. It was likely they were about to be embroiled in a scandal that could jeopardize his career and her admission to Harvard.

Even if the complaint against her was investigated and dismissed,

she would need to be able to complete her MA free of other distractions. He was sure that she’d want the full university experience at Harvard without the pressure of planning a wedding. And there

was still the question of what he would do — whether he would be

164

Gabriel’s Rapture

able to take a sabbatical. That is, if he survived Christa Peterson’s harassment complaint.

Despite the fact that he found the words marry me on his tongue on more than one occasion, he bit them back. There would be a time and a place for a proposal. That time and place should be in their orchard, sacred as it was to both of them. Not to mention the fact that it would be a polite gesture to alert Tom to his intentions before broaching the topic with Julianne. Without doubt, he wanted her

to be his wife. And no matter what the next few months brought,

he would make her his.

Later that evening, Gabriel found himself brimming with emo-

tion, the fruit of much contemplation and the pleasure he always

found in Julianne’s company. They’d just returned from the resort

restaurant. Julia had planned on visiting the washroom to clean the makeup from her face, but he caught her wrist and wordlessly led

her to the bed.

He kissed her softly and began to undress her, his eyes shining

with worship and need. He took his time, adoring shoulders and

arms and naked skin, his mouth beginning to make eager promises

as she arched beneath his touch.

He pulled her astride him, gazing up with an expression of won-

der mixed with desire. She moved her hips to taunt him a little, closing her eyes in order to let the feeling take center stage.

After a few minutes, Gabriel flipped her so she was on her back

and he was kneeling between her legs. She let out a cry as he entered her.

He stilled. “Are you all right?”

“Mmhmmm,” she hummed. “You just surprised me.” She brought

her hands to rest on his back, urging him forward.

Gabriel liked her on top, she knew it. He would gaze up at her

adoringly and touch and tease. He would praise her sexiness, for he knew that even after these few months she was slightly self-conscious at being so exposed. Julia was surprised that he moved them so his body was covering hers, his lips at her neck, when they’d enjoyed

that position several times already.

A few more kisses and he was pressing a hand to her face, his

eyes dark and desperate.

“Gabriel?” She searched his expression.

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He closed his eyes and shook his head before opening them again.

Julia gaped at what she saw — insecurity, passion, hope, want,

and need. She threw back her head from time to time as groans of

pleasure escaped her lips.

“I need you,” he whispered against her throat as his movements

increased to a fevered pitch. “I can’t lose you.”

Julia’s response was lost in a series of pants as she grew closer and closer to her release.

“Ah — ah, hel .” Gabriel cursed as he climaxed, knowing that Julia had yet to do so. He tried to keep moving, hoping that she would

follow him, but it was not to be.

“Damn it. I’m sorry.” He hid his face against her skin.

“It’s all right. I enjoyed myself.” She tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging playfully, before pressing a kiss to his face. “And I’m glad you came.”

A self-deprecating mumble escaped him. He moved to lie beside

her and began to pet between her legs, but she pressed her knees

together. “You don’t need to do that.”

His eyes darkened with determination. “Yes, I do. Let me.”

She stilled his hand. “You aren’t going to lose me if you fail to

give me an orgasm now and then.”

Gabriel’s expression tightened. “It’s embarrassing.”

“It’s life.” She kissed his nose. “I don’t expect you to be perfect, in bed or out of it.”

“Bless you for that.” He kissed her slowly, sighing when she pulled away to nest in his arms. “But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try.”

“Well, if you insist, there is something you could do for me…”

Gabriel moved so quickly Julia was torn between shock and the

urge to laugh. But as soon as he touched her, she stopped laughing.

P

Later that evening Gabriel lay on his back in the center of the

bed, underneath the mosquito netting. Julia rested her head just

below his pectorals, her arm wrapped around his waist.

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“Are you happy?” His voice came out of the candle-soaked dark-

ness, as he ran his fingers over the top of her head and down to trace the curve of her neck.

“Yes. Are you?”

“More than I ever thought I could be.”

Julia smiled against his chest and kissed the skin there.

“Things seem — different since we came back from Italy,” he

prompted, his hand still gliding across neck and shoulder.

“We have a lot to be grateful for. We have each other. I have

Harvard. Doctor Nicole has been helping me. I feel like I’m finally putting the pieces back together.”

“Good,” he whispered. “And the way that we make love, in general,

you’re happy with that?”

Now Julia lifted her head so she could gaze up into his concerned

blue eyes. “Of course.” She laughed quietly. “You can’t tell?”

“I can tell that I please your body. But your body is not your

mind, or your heart.”

He seemed embarrassed, and Julia repented of her decision to

laugh.

“Tonight was an aberration. But even if it wasn’t, I’m sure we’d

work through it. Are you happy with the way that we make love?”

She sounded shy.

“Yes, very much. I feel it changing — I feel the connection deep-

ening.” He shrugged. “I just wondered if you felt it too.”

“Sometimes I think this is a dream. Believe me, I’m happy.” She

leaned up to kiss him and then rested her head on his chest again.

“Why are you asking me these things?”

“Where do you see yourself in the future?”

“I want to be a professor. I want to be with you.” Julia’s voice was on the quiet side, but remarkably assertive.

He began threading the sheet in between his fingers. “Wouldn’t

you rather find a nice man who could give you children?”

“You can’t ask me if I’m happy with one breath, and push me

away with the next.”

When he didn’t respond, she gently took hold of his chin, forc-

ing his eyes to hers.

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“No, I don’t want to find a nice man to have a child with. I want

a child with you.”

Gabriel stared at her incredulously, his blue eyes widening.

“Truthfully, I don’t know if we’ll ever get to the point where we’re healthy enough to open our home to a child. But if we do, I’m sure we’ll find a little boy or girl who is supposed to be our child. Grace and Richard adopted you; we can do the same.”

Her face grew pained. “Unless you decide you don’t want that.

Or you don’t want that with me.”

“Of course I want you.” The intensity of his voice matched his

eyes. “I’d like to make promises to you. But I want us to wait a little before we have that conversation. Does that trouble you?” He reached out a finger to toy with the diamond in her ear.

Julia didn’t need a narrator to understand what his physical ges-

ture meant. “No.”

“I don’t want you to think that any hesitation on my part is due

to lack of feeling.” Gabriel gave voice to her unspoken fear.

“I’m yours. All of me. And I’m so glad we won’t be apart next

year. The thought of losing you was torturous.”

He nodded as if he understood.

“Now come here, Julia, so I can worship you.”

168

Chapter 20

“Miss Mitchell.” The tall, dark-haired woman in the power suit strolled into the corner office, shook Julia’s hand, and sat behind her large desk.

Miss Soraya Harandi was of Iranian descent, with light, unfreck-

led skin and cascades of blue-black hair. Her mouth was wide and

full, and her dark eyes sparkled. She was not necessarily beautiful, but she was striking, and Julia could not help but stare.

Soraya chuckled.

Julia immediately looked down at her book bag and began to

fidget with it.

“Now that’s something you cannot do in front of the Dean. No

matter what he says or does, you cannot look away. It makes you look guilty and weak.” Soraya softened her criticism with a smile. “Law is as much about psychology as it is about precedent. Now, why don’t

you tell me what led up to the Dean’s letter?”

Julia took a deep breath and told her story, beginning when she

was seventeen and ending with the letter from the Dean’s office. She only left out a few details.

Soraya listened carefully, jotting down notes on her laptop and

nodding on occasion. When Julia finished, Soraya was quiet for a

moment.

“That’s quite a story. Since the Dean hasn’t disclosed what the

complaint is about, let’s not assume it’s about your boyfriend. Although we should prepare for that scenario. Was your relationship

with Professor Emerson absolutely consensual?”

“Of course.”

Sylvain Reynard

“Have you ever had a sexual relationship with one of your profes-

sors or teaching assistants before?”

“No.”

“Is it possible he seduced you solely for his own amusement?”

“Of course not. Gabriel loves me.”

Soraya appeared relieved. “Good. Well, good for you personally,

not so good depending on the complaint.”

“What do you mean?”

“If your relationship was consensual, then the university can

pursue disciplinary action against both of you. If you were a victim, then they’ll only pursue him.”

“I am not a victim. We are in a relationship, and we waited until after the semester was over before we became involved.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Julia was incredulous. “Excuse me?”

“According to your story, you had an amorous relationship with

him beginning around the end of October. You waited until after

the semester was over to sleep with him. But given the way the non-fraternization policy is written, you violated it. Who knows about your relationship?”

“His family. My father. That’s it.”

“What about the student who accused your boyfriend of sexual

harassment?”

Julia gritted her teeth. “I don’t know what she knows. But she

hates me.”

Soraya tapped her chin with her pen. “If you were accused of

violating the non-fraternization policy, what kind of evidence, other than your testimony, could you offer for the fact that you weren’t having a sexual relationship with him while you were his student?”

“Why would you think the complaint has to do with Gabriel?

The academic conduct policy covers things like plagiarism.”

“I’ve met Dean Aras. He doesn’t waste his precious time with

plagiarism cases.”

Julia sat back in her chair. “Oh my God.”

“Let’s hope someone is accusing you of a minor academic offense

and that Dean Aras is simply taking a personal interest in your case.

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But just in case, what kind of evidence can you offer to prove you weren’t trading sex for grades?”

Julia flushed deeply. “Um, there is something.”

“What is it?”

“I was a virgin before we went to Italy.”

Soraya stared at her as if she was a mythical creature, such as,

say, a heterosexual man who knew the difference between Manolo

Blahniks and Christian Louboutins.

“Do you have medical proof of that? Such as a doctor’s note?”

Julia squirmed. “No.”

“Then there’s no point in bringing it up. Did anyone from the

university see you and Gabriel together during the semester?”

“Not as far as I know. Although we went to a dance club with

his sister back in September.”

Soraya pursed her lips. “Bringing up the fact that you are a friend of his family is not a good idea. It establishes a possible conflict of interest. And being seen in his company in a public venue was not an intelligent choice, Miss Mitchell. But frankly, he bears more blame than you because he should have known better.

“Since we don’t know the nature of the complaint, our strategy

should be to gather as much information as possible from the meeting while giving nothing away. That will buy us time to prepare for any disciplinary proceedings, should they arise. Hopefully, they won’t.

“At the meeting with the Dean, I will speak for you. Since they

haven’t disclosed the nature of the complaint, it’s possible that the complaint is specious and that they know this. We won’t add fuel

to their funeral pyre.”

Soraya looked at Julia’s downcast face and frowned. “You have

to have confidence. You have to believe that the complaint is frivolous and that you’ve done nothing wrong. I’ve had dealings with

the university’s judiciary before, and I was fairly successful. I will be successful with your case too.”

Julia took small comfort in Soraya’s confidence, but some comfort

was better than nothing.

“In the meantime, I would like a list of anyone who might have

filed a complaint against you and why, and a detailed account of all your interactions with Miss Peterson. I’ll have one of my assistants 171

Sylvain Reynard

perform some background checks. I’ll also place a call to a contact of mine at the university and see what I can find out.

“Until this matter is settled, you and Professor Emerson need to

cool it. Don’t be seen in public together. Don’t talk to him about what you and I discuss. If the complaint is about fraternization, he will have his own counsel, who will look after his interests. I don’t want my defense of you compromised by your pillow talk.”

Julia’s eyes flashed with a momentary heat. “Gabriel is much more

than just a boyfriend. If I’m in danger so is he. Our relationship was consensual, and I have no interest in being defended at his expense.

Any blame we have is equal between us.”

Soraya gazed at Julia curiously.

“Are you sure that’s his position? You told my secretary that John Green is Gabriel’s attorney. Why isn’t John representing you, if you and Gabriel are determined to show a united front?”

Julia opened her mouth to form an answer, but none occurred

to her.

Soraya smiled sympathetically. “Listen, you aren’t the first student to find herself in this situation. I’m sure it’s upsetting and confusing.

But you need to realize that if the complaint against you and your boyfriend escalates, it’s quite possible he will break things off with you in order to protect his job. You need to prepare yourself in case he decides to throw you to the wolves.”

“He would never do that. He loves me. We’re talking about mov-

ing in together. And — other things.”

Soraya gave her a condescending look. “Love can be easily killed,

especially by unemployment. But let’s take things one step at a time.

“Gabriel has sent over a retainer, which I will return. I think it’s best for me to represent you pro bono.”

Julia nodded uncomfortably. She had forgotten about the legal

fees. “I will pay you, but it might take some time…”

“The point of taking a case for the good is so one can further the good. I don’t see much good coming out of taking your money.

You should be spending it on text books and moving expenses to

Massachusetts.”

Soraya’s smile tightened. “I am not a fan of the university’s sexual inquisitions. Anything I can do to embarrass or humiliate Dean Aras is definitely for the good. Believe me, representing your interests will 172

Gabriel’s Rapture

be one of the few pleasures I’ve had recently. I should be paying you for the privilege.”

P

Later that evening Julia was curled up into a ball, trying to sleep in Gabriel’s bed. He was in his study, furiously researching all the university policies that applied to graduate students, trying to figure out what had possibly come to the attention of the Dean.

The thought of Gabriel having to do that for her — the thought

of his career possibly being threatened because of her, combined

with the possibility of losing Harvard, made the tears come. It was all so overwhelming. And the worst part was not knowing what the

specific danger was.

She wiped the tears away, willing herself to be strong. Gabriel

walked into the bedroom to check on her, and upon seeing her face, slipped into bed behind her.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. Please don’t cry.” He paused. “I wouldn’t

have continued working if I’d known you were so upset. We’ve hired the best lawyer and we’re going to fight this complaint. It’s quite possible it’s simply a misunderstanding and by Friday evening, it

will all be over.”

“What if this is about us?”

Gabriel clenched his teeth. “Then we’ll deal with it together.”

“What about the harassment complaint?”

“Don’t worry about that. You focus on your thesis and your stud-

ies, and you let me worry about myself. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. I promise.”

He rolled her onto her back and began sweeping soft kisses

across her face.

“I’m afraid,” she whispered.

Gabriel stroked her hair and pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose.

“I know. But no matter what, I won’t let them keep you from Harvard.

It’s going to be fine.” He gave her a pained look. “What can I do, Julia? I don’t know how to — comfort you.”

“Kiss me.”

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Sylvain Reynard

Gabriel kissed her mouth — the hesitant, light kiss of a boy who

was unsure how the girl next door would react. He needn’t have

worried.

Julia responded by wrapping his hair around her fingers and

pulling his lips to hers, kissing him fiercely and coaxing his tongue into her mouth.

He kissed her back but with restraint, then pulled away before

pressing their foreheads together. “I can’t,” he said.

“Please.” She tugged at him, running her hands across his broad

shoulders and down the sinews of his back, pulling him toward her.

“I can’t make love to you while you’re sad. I would feel like I was hurting you.”

“But I need you.”

“Wouldn’t you rather I ran a hot bath or something?”

“Making love with you makes me happy because it reminds me

how much you love me. Please. I need to feel like you want me.”

His eyebrows knitted together. “Of course I want you, Julia. I

just don’t want to take advantage.”

She was not the sort of woman who made many demands, and

what demands she made were almost always good. And almost always

about what was good for him.

Gabriel knew this, and it pained him to deny her and those large,

sad brown eyes. But the trails of her tears had dampened his libido.

He would far rather have held her tightly and tried to soothe her by being close, than to attempt an act he would not be able to perform.

Her face told him that she needed him, that she needed this and them and the conjunction of body and soul. While he stroked her hair, deciding what to do, he realized something about himself. No matter what his therapist had intimated, he was not a sex addict. He was not a wanton hedonist with a massive hunger who was willing

to, as Scott had put it, screw anything female and attractive.

Julianne had changed him. He loved her. And even if she begged

him, he couldn’t become aroused while seeing her in pain.

She was still staring up at him, her fingers tracing up and down

his naked back. He decided to give her part of what she wanted, to touch and caress her, focusing on distracting her with pleasurable feelings and sensations, hoping that it would be enough. He kissed her, slowing their pace to a gentle exploration. She ran her fingers 174

Gabriel’s Rapture

through his hair, anchoring him to her as she softly scratched his scalp. Even in the midst of her sorrow and need, she was kind.

He feathered his lips to her neck and her ear where he whispered

about how much she’d changed him. How much happier he was

now that she was his.

She began to sigh as he adored her neck, dipping a playful tongue

into the hollow at the base of her throat before kissing it chastely. He nipped at her collarbones, gently pulling aside the thin strap of her tank top so the white slope of her shoulder was bare to his mouth.

She would have removed her tank top for him, exposing her

breasts, but he stopped her.

“Patience,” he whispered.

He wound their fingers together and kissed the back of her hand,

extending her arm so he could draw the flesh of her inner elbow into his mouth, pausing when she began to moan. He kissed every inch

of her, gliding strong hands across soft skin, taking his cue from the heat that shot across her flesh and the sounds that escaped her lips.

When he was satisfied that her tears had stopped and she was

asking him for more, he cast their clothes aside and knelt between her legs.

Soon she was shaking and crying out his name. In itself, this

was the moment he craved most, even beyond his own climax — the

sound of his name tripping from her lips amidst the waves of her

satisfaction. She’d been so shy the first few times they made love.

Every time she said Gabriel in that ecstatic, breathy whisper, a precious warmth overtook him.

This is what love is, he thought. Being naked and bare before one’s lover and unashamedly calling her name in need.

In his own orgasm, he reciprocated, telling her that he loved her.

It was inextricably linked in his mind and experience — sex and love and Julianne. The holy three.

He held her tightly while they caught their breath, smiling to

himself. He was so proud of her, so happy she could give voice to her desires, even when she was sad. He kissed her softly and was grateful to see that her smile had returned.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Thank you, Julianne, for teaching me how to love.”

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Sylvain Reynard

P

Paul walked into the departmental office on Wednesday and was

shocked by what he saw.

Julia was standing in front of the mailboxes, her skin pale and dull, with dark circles under her eyes. As he made his way over to her, she lifted her head and smiled at him thinly. Her smile alone pained him.

Before he could ask her what was wrong, Christa Peterson breezed

in, her large Michael Kors bag dangling from her wrist. She looked remarkably well rested, and her eyes were bright. She was wearing

red. Not cherry red or blood red, but scarlet. The color of triumph and power.

She saw Paul and Julia together and cackled quietly.

Paul’s dark eyes shifted from Julia to Christa and back again. He

watched as Julia hid her face while she checked her mailbox.

“What’s wrong?” he whispered.

“Nothing. I think I’m coming down with a cold.”

Paul shook his head. He would have pressed her, gently this time,

but Professor Martin entered the office at that moment.

Julia took one look at him and quickly picked up her messenger

bag and her coat, hoping to make a break for the door.

Paul stopped her. “Would you like a cup of coffee? I was going

to walk over to Starbucks.”

Julia shook her head. “I’m pretty tired. I think I need to go home.”

Paul’s eyes glanced down at her bare neck, her bare unmarked

neck, and moved back to her face.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked.

“No. Thanks, Paul. I’m fine, really.”

He nodded and watched her turn to leave, but before she could

enter the hallway, he followed her. “On second thought, I should

head home now too. I can walk with you, if you want.”

Julia bit her lip but nodded, and the two friends exited the building into the bone chilling winter air. She wrapped her Magdalen

College scarf around her neck, shivering against the wind.

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Gabriel’s Rapture

“That’s an Oxford scarf,” Paul observed.

“Yes.”

“Did you buy it in Oxford?”

“Um, no. It was a gift.”

Owen, he thought. I guess he can’t be a complete bonehead if he went to Oxford. Then again, Emerson went to Oxford…

“I really like the Phillies cap you gave me. I’m a Red Sox fan, but I’ll wear it with pride, except when I’m in Vermont. My dad would

burn it if I wore it on the farm.”

Julia couldn’t help but smile, and Paul mirrored her expression.

“How long have you been sick?”

“Um, a few days.” She shrugged uncomfortably.

“Have you been to the doctor?”

“It’s just a cold. They wouldn’t be able to do anything for me.”

Paul stole glances at her while they walked past the Royal Ontario Museum, snowflakes swirling around them and the crystal monstros-ity that was the north wall.

“Has Christa been hassling you? You seemed upset when she

walked into the office.”

Julia stumbled in the ankle-deep snow, and Paul quickly reached

out one of his large paws to steady her.

“Careful. There could be black ice under there.”

She thanked him and began to walk a little more slowly after

he released her.

“If you slip again, grab hold of me. I don’t go down. Ever.”

She glanced at him sideways, completely innocently, only to see

him blush. Julia had never seen a rugby player blush before.

(It was rumored to be impossible.)

“Um, what I meant is that I’m too heavy. You wouldn’t be able

to pull me over.”

She shook her head. “You aren’t that heavy.”

Paul smiled to himself at the perceived compliment.

“Has Christa been rude to you?”

Julia looked down at the snow-covered sidewalk in front of them.

“I’ve been staying up late every night working on my thesis. Professor 177

Sylvain Reynard

Picton is very demanding. Last week she rejected several pages of my Purgatorio translation. I’ve been redoing it, and it just takes so long.”

“I could help you. I mean, you could email your translations to

me before you give them to her so I could check them.”

“Thanks, but you’re busy with your own stuff. You don’t have

time for my problems.”

He stopped walking and placed a light hand on her arm. “Of

course I have time for you. You’re working on love and lust, and I’m working on pleasure. Some of our translations will overlap. It would be good practice for me.”

“I’m not working on love and lust anymore. Professor Picton

made me change my topic to a comparison between courtly love

and the friendship between Virgil and Dante.”

Paul shrugged. “Some of the translations will still overlap.”

“If we’re working on the same passage we could compare transla-

tions. I don’t want to bother you with stuff that’s unrelated to your project.” She looked over at him tentatively.

“Send me what you have and what your deadlines are, and I’ll

look at it. No problem.”

“Thank you.” She appeared relieved.

He withdrew his hand, and they began walking again. “Did you

know that the Chair of Italian Studies sent out an email announce-

ment about your admission to Harvard? He said that you won a

pretty big fellowship.”

Julia’s eyes went wide. “Um, no. I didn’t know that. I didn’t get

that email.”

“Well, it was sent to everyone else. Emerson made me print out

the email and post it on the bulletin board next to his office, after he insisted that I highlight all the important information, including your name, with a bright yellow marker. Figures. He was nothing

but rude to you while you were in his seminar, and now he’s prob-

ably going to take credit for your admission to Harvard. Asshole.”

Julia’s eyebrows furrowed, but she didn’t comment.

“What?”

She flushed slightly under his scrutiny. “Nothing.”

“Julia, spit it out. What were you thinking just now?”

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Gabriel’s Rapture

“Um, I was just wondering if you’d seen Christa hovering around

the department? Or Professor Emerson’s office?”

“No, thank God. It looks as if she’s moved on to someone else.

She knows better than to talk to me. I’m just waiting for her to give me a chance to tell her off.” Paul winked and patted her shoulder

fraternally. “She better not give you a hard time. Or I have a few stories I could tell.”

P

On Thursday, Julia met with her therapist in preparation for her

meeting with the Dean, which was scheduled for Friday morning.

Recognizing that Julia needed to discuss what was happening,

Nicole set aside her goals for that session and listened patiently before offering her opinion. “Stress can be very destructive to our health, so it’s important to deal with it adequately. Some people prefer to talk about their problems, while others prefer to think about them.

How have you dealt with stress in the past?”

Julia fidgeted with her hands. “I’ve kept quiet.”

“Can you share your concerns with your boyfriend?”

“I can. But I don’t want to upset him. He’s worried about me

as it is.”

Nicole nodded sagely. “When you care about someone, it’s un-

derstandable that you would want to protect them from pain. And

that’s perfectly appropriate on some occasions. But on others, you run the risk of shouldering more than your fair share of stress or responsibility. Can you see why that might be a problem?”

“Well, I don’t like it when Gabriel keeps things from me. I feel

like a child. I’d rather have him share things than shut me out.”

“It’s possible that Gabriel feels the same way, that he worries about you shutting him out. Have you discussed this with him?”

“I’ve tried to. I’ve told him I want to be equals, that I don’t want to keep secrets.”

“Good. And what was his response?”

“He either wants to take care of me or he’s worried about disap-

pointing me.”

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“And how does that make you feel?”

Julia gestured with her hands as she tried to find the words.

“I don’t want his money. It makes me feel poor and dependent

and — and helpless.”

“And why is that?”

“He gives me so much already, and I can’t reciprocate.”

“Is it important to you that your relationship be reciprocal?”

“Yes.”

Nicole smiled kindly. “No relationship is absolutely reciprocal.

Sometimes, when couples try to split everything in half, they discover that the relationship is not a partnership but a bean counting exercise.

Striving for reciprocity in a relationship can be unhealthy.

“On the other hand, striving to have a partnership in which each

partner is valued equally and shares both burdens and responsibilities can be healthy. In other words, it isn’t a problem if he makes more money than you. But he needs to understand that you want to

contribute to the relationship, perhaps not financially but in other ways, and that those ways should be respected just as much as the

money. Does that make sense?”

“Yes. I like that idea. A lot.”

“As for protecting one another…” She smiled.

“You could make a biological argument as to why men feel the

need to protect their women and children. Whatever the reason, it’s a fact. Men tend to find their self-worth in actions and accomplishments. If you refuse to let him do things for you, he’ll feel useless and superfluous. He wants to know that he can take care of you and protect you, and that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Partners should want to protect one another. But like any view, it has its extremes and it has its middle.

“What you and your boyfriend should do is to strive for the

middle. Allow him to take care of you in some ways, while exerting your independence in others. And you should impress upon him the

need for you to take care of him too.”

Julia nodded. The concept of moderation appealed to her. She

wanted to care for Gabriel, and she wanted him to care for her, but she didn’t want to be a burden, and she didn’t want him to look at her as if she was broken. But sorting all of that out practically was a different matter.

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Gabriel’s Rapture

“Some men have what I call chivalry syndrome — they want to protect their women as if they were absolutely helpless. And this might be romantic and exciting for a time, but eventually reality will set in and it will become stifling and patronizing. When one partner does all the protecting and the other does all the receiving, it’s unhealthy.

“Of course, some women have the feminine equivalent of chivalry

syndrome — wounded duck attachment. They seek out men who are bad boys or broken and afflicted and attempt to fix them. But we’ll table that discussion for another day.

“At his extreme, a chivalrous male can do all kinds of rash things to protect his woman, including riding into battle on his horse, or taking up arms against thousands of Persians, when he should be

running in the opposite direction. Discretion is the better part of valor. ”

She chuckled slightly. “Did you see the film 300?”

Julia shook her head.

“It’s about the Battle of Thermopylae, when three hundred Spar-

tans held off two hundred and fifty thousand Persians before being defeated. Herodotus writes about it.”

Julia regarded Nicole with no little interest. How many psycholo-

gists could cite Herodotus?

“King Leonidas was an extreme case. One could argue that his

last stand was precipitated by political concerns rather than chivalry.

But my point is that sometimes the chivalrous man ends up doing

more damage through his protection than can be done by the force

threatening his partner. Spartan women used to tell their husbands and sons to come home carrying their shields or on them. If you

found yourself in that situation, you’d probably prefer that Gabriel didn’t die holding the line against thousands of Persians and came home to you, instead.”

Julia nodded in absolute agreement.

“In your conversations with Gabriel, you might want to talk about

that — how you feel about being protected to his own detriment,

how you should share your risks and responsibilities, why you want to be a partner rather than a child or a helpless female.

“Perhaps Gabriel would be willing to attend joint sessions with

us even though he isn’t coming in privately.”

Julia wasn’t quite sure that she’d heard Nicole correctly. “Pardon?”

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Sylvain Reynard

Nicole smiled. “I said that in your conversations with Gabriel,

you might want to talk about how you feel protected — ”

“No,” Julia interrupted. “I meant the last part. You said that

Gabriel isn’t coming in anymore?”

Nicole froze. “Um, that was very unprofessional of me. I shouldn’t speak to you about another client and his counselor.”

“When did he stop seeing Winston?”

“I really can’t say.” Nicole shifted in her seat. “Now, we should

probably discuss some ways in which you can deal with stress before your meeting tomorrow…” P

The Dean of Graduate Studies favored formality and refinement.

For these reasons, he always conducted meetings in a large, wood-

paneled conference room adjacent to his office on St. George Street.

Professor Jeremy Martin, the Chair of Italian Studies, sat at his right in a large, high-backed chair that was vaguely medieval in style, behind an imposing, dark wood table that ran almost the width of the room.

Two small folding chairs were centered before the table, and

that is where Soraya and her client sat most uncomfortably at the

beginning of their meeting.

“A moment for introductions.” The Dean’s rich, baritone voice

rang out in the room.

“Miss Julianne Mitchell?”

Julia nodded, but said nothing.

“And who is your representative?” His pale, cold blue eyes gave

away nothing, but it was clear that he recognized the dark haired

woman at Julia’s left.

“Soraya Harandi, Dr. Aras. I will be representing Miss Mitchell.”

“Is there a reason why Miss Mitchell has elected to bring an at-

torney to this informal meeting?” It was clear that he was already irritated.

“Why, Dr. Aras, my client was simply following your instructions.

You suggested she retain a lawyer in your letter.” Soraya’s voice was deceptively sweet.

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Gabriel’s Rapture

David resisted the urge to growl at her, for he did not like being made a fool. He gestured to the man beside him. “This is Professor Martin.”

Julia took a moment to appraise the Chair’s appearance. She knew

that he would be meeting with Gabriel to discuss Christa’s harass-

ment complaint after this meeting concluded. She tried very hard

to discern his disposition but found herself puzzled. His demeanor was decidedly neutral, at least toward her.

The Dean cleared his throat. “We have received a very serious

complaint about you, Miss Mitchell. Our purpose in inviting you

to speak to us today is solely for information purposes as we begin our investigation. We will ask a few questions, then you will have the opportunity to ask questions of us. I hope the meeting will terminate in about thirty minutes.”

Julia inhaled slowly, watching him and waiting.

“Are you having a romantic relationship with Professor Gabriel

Emerson?”

Julia’s eyes bugged out of her head, and her jaw dropped open.

Before she could speak, Soraya jumped in.

“My client will not answer any questions until the substance of the complaint is revealed. The letter was understandably vague, given the policies of the university, but you have passed the point of vagueness with that question. Exactly what is the complaint against my client, what is the evidence for the complaint, and who is the complainant?”

David tapped a finger at the glass water pitcher in front of him,

making the slices of lemon dance to his drumming.

“That is not how these meetings work. I am the Dean. I ask the

questions.”

“Dr. Aras…” Soraya’s voice took on an almost patronizing tone.

“We both know that the policies and procedures assumed by the

university are governed by the principles of natural justice. My client deserves to know the specifics of the complaint, the nature and scope of the evidence against her, if any, and the identity of the complainant before she answers any questions. Otherwise, this is an unjust proceeding and I will have no choice but to file a complaint to that effect. Immediately.”

“I have to agree with Miss Harandi,” said Professor Martin quietly.

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David gave Jeremy an annoyed look out of the corner of his eye.

“Very well. An allegation of graduate student misconduct reached

our office concerning your client. It was alleged that she entered into a sexual relationship with one of her professors for the purpose of procuring academic favors.”

Julia’s eyes grew wide and round.

Soraya laughed. Loudly. “This is a farce. My client is an extremely talented student who was recently offered an early acceptance to

Harvard, as you well know.” She nodded in Professor Martin’s direction. “My client doesn’t need to prostitute herself.”

“The allegation is not without precedent at this institution, Miss Harandi. And we take all complaints seriously, as dictated by our

policies.”

“Then why isn’t the complaint being processed as a sexual harass-

ment case? Surely, if a student initiates a transaction in which favors are exchanged for sex it would count as sexual harassment?”