He inhaled deeply, his sapphire eyes shut tightly, as he said a silent prayer. Then he walked a half circuit around the monument, stopping in front of the marker.
He removed a pristine handkerchief from his trouser pocket. An onlooker might have guessed that he had need of it for sweat or tears, but he didn’t. He leaned forward and with a gentle hand swept the white linen over the black stone. The dirt came away easily. He would need to tend the rose bushes that had begun to encroach upon the letters. He made a mental note to hire a gardener.
He placed flowers in front of the stone, his mouth moving as if he were whispering. But he wasn’t. The grave, of course, was empty.
A tear or two clouded his vision, followed by their brothers, and soon his face was wet with their rain. He didn’t bother to wipe them away as he lifted his face to gaze upon the angels, the souls of silent, marble compassion.
He asked for forgiveness. He expressed his guilt, a guilt he knew would ache for the rest of his life. He didn’t ask for his burden to be removed, for it seemed to him to be part of the consequences of his actions. Or rather, the consequences of what he failed to do for a mother and their child.
He reached into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone and dialed a number from the iPhone’s memory.
“Hello?”
“Paulina. I need to see you.”
Chapter 38
Julia’s father insisted on attending her graduation and refused to allow Paul to move her to Cambridge alone. Tom paid the security deposit and rent on her summer sublet. And it was Tom who flew to Toronto so he could watch his only daughter graduate with her MA on June eleventh.
Dressed in simple black with artful shoes, Julia left Paul and Tom on the steps of Convocation Hall while she went to line up with all the other graduating students.
Tom liked Paul. A lot.
Paul was forthright and had a firm handshake. He looked Tom directly in the eye when they spoke to one another. Paul offered his assistance in helping move Julia to Cambridge, including accommodations on his family’s farm in Burlington, even after Tom had insisted that he could move Julia by himself. Tom dropped a hint to his daughter over dinner the evening before graduation, suggesting that Paul was an obvious choice for a new love interest, but Julia pretended she hadn’t heard him.
As the graduates filed into the hall, Julia couldn’t help but scan the audience, looking for Gabriel. With so many people it was unlikely that she would see him, even if he were present. However, when she gazed over at the faculty section she easily located Katherine Picton, dressed in her Oxonian robes. If the faculty were arranged alphabetically, and it certainly seemed as if they were, then Julia should have been able to guess where Gabriel would be seated, dressed in Harvard’s crimson. But he wasn’t.
When they called Julia’s name, it was Katherine who ascended the stage in slow but certain steps to hood Julia with the vestment of a magister. It was Katherine who shook her hand professionally, wished her well at Harvard, and handed her the diploma.
Later that evening, after a celebratory dinner with Paul and Tom at a local steakhouse, Julia checked her voice mail and found a new message. It was from Rachel.
“Congratulations, Julia! We all send our love and we have presents for you. Thanks for sending me your new address in Cambridge. I’ll mail everything and make sure it arrives after you do. I’m also sending your bridesmaid’s dress.
“Dad booked your flight from Boston to Philadelphia for August twenty-first. I hope that’s okay. He wanted to pay for it, and I know that you were planning on coming a week early.
“I still haven’t heard from Gabriel. I’m hoping he was at your graduation. But if he wasn’t, maybe you two will be able to sort everything out at the wedding. I can’t imagine that he’d miss it. He’s supposed to be a groomsman, and I don’t even have his measurements for his tux!”
Chapter 39
A certain blue-eyed Dante specialist read T.S. Eliot’s poem Ash Wednesday before offering his nighttime prayers. He was alone, and yet not alone.
Looking at the photograph on his bedside table he thought about her graduation. How beautiful and proud she would have looked in her robes. With a sigh, he closed his book of poetry and turned out the light.
In the darkness of his old bedroom in the Clarks’ former house, he reflected on the past weeks. He’d left Italy and traveled to Boston and Minnesota. He’d promised the Franciscans he’d return, for they’d said (wisely) that they prized his presence more than his donations. With that thought in mind, he closed his eyes.
* * *
“Gabriel, it’s time to get up.”
Groaning, he kept his eyes shut, hoping the voice would go away. Sleep was peaceful and he needed it.
“Come on. I know you’re awake.” The voice laughed softly, and he felt the mattress dip next to his legs.