Her sultry suggestion hearkened back to their previous visit, when they’d christened that table several times. With a deep groan, he quickly carried their suitcases upstairs as if someone was chasing him.
In the kitchen, Julia found the pantry to be fully stocked, as was the refrigerator. She laughed when she saw several bottles of cranberry juice lined up on the counter, as if they were waiting for her. She’d just opened a bottle of Perrier and finished preparing a cheese plate when Gabriel returned. He seemed years younger as he raced into the kitchen, boyish even, his eyes bright and his expression cheerful.
“This looks delicious. Thank you.” He sat at her side, glancing at the kitchen table significantly. “But I have to say that I’d rather our first few times occur in bed.”
Julia felt her skin flush. “This table has happy memories for me.”
“For me too. But we have plenty of time to make new ones. Better ones.” He gave her a heated look.
She felt the flutterings of desire increase.
“Was the wedding everything you hoped for?” He gazed at her eagerly, pouring two glasses of sparkling water.
“It was better. The Mass, the music—having the wedding in the Basilica was incredible. I felt so at peace there.”
Gabriel nodded, for he’d felt that way too.
“I’m glad we only invited family and close friends. I’m sorry I didn’t have much of a chance to talk to Katherine Picton, although I saw you dancing with her twice.” Julia pretended to be offended.
He eyed her in mock surprise. “Really? I danced with her twice? That’s pretty impressive for a septuagenarian. I’m surprised she could keep up with me.”
Julia rolled her eyes at his pretentious choice of adjectives.
“You danced with Richard twice, Mrs. Emerson. I suppose we’re even.”
“He’s my father now too. And he’s an excellent dancer. Very elegant.”
“Better than me?” Gabriel feigned jealousy.
“No one is better than you, darling.” She leaned over to kiss away his pout. “Do you think that he will ever marry again?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
He took her hand in his and caressed her knuckles gently, one by one.
“Because Grace was his Beatrice. When you’ve experienced a love such as that, anything less would seem like only a shadow.” He smiled sadly. “Strangely enough, it was the same in Grace’s favorite book, A Severe Mercy. Sheldon Vanauken never remarried after his wife died.
“Dante lost Beatrice when she was just twenty-four. He spent the rest of his life mourning her. If I were to lose you, it would be the same for me. There will never be anyone else. Never,” he emphasized, a fierce but loving look in his eyes.
“I wonder if my father will marry again.”
“Would it trouble you if he did?”
She shrugged. “No. It would take some getting used to, but I’m glad he’s dating someone kind. I’d like him to be happy. I’d like him to have someone kind to grow old with.”
“I’m looking forward to growing old with you,” said Gabriel. “And you are certainly kind.”
“I’m looking forward to growing old with you too.”
Husband and wife exchanged a look then finished their food in relaxed quietness. Afterward, Gabriel stood and stretched out his hand. “I haven’t given you your wedding gifts, yet.”
She took his hand and her fingers touched his wedding band. “I thought our gifts were our rings and the inscriptions inside them: I am my Beloved’s and my Beloved is mine.”
“There’s more.” He led her to the fireplace and paused.
When they entered the house, Julia hadn’t noticed that the artwork that hung over the fireplace previously had been removed. In its place was a large and impressive oil painting of a man and a woman in a passionate embrace.
She took a step closer to the painting, transfixed by the stirring image.
The male and female figures were wrapped around each other, the male naked to the waist and slightly underneath the female as if he were kneeling at her feet, his head resting on her lap. The female figure was bent forward, naked and wrapped carelessly in what appeared to be a bed sheet, clutching the male’s back and sides and resting her head between his shoulder blades. In truth, it was difficult to tell where his body began and her body ended, so entwined they were, almost like a circle. Need and desperation leapt off the canvas, as if the couple had just made up after a fight or found each other after an extended absence.
“It’s us,” breathed Julia as she blinked in shock.
The male’s face was partially hidden by the woman’s lap, his mouth pressed against her naked thigh. But it was Gabriel’s face, of that there could be no doubt. The female’s face was Julia’s, eyes closed in bliss, a small smile playing at the edge of her full lips as she faced the viewer. She looked happy.
“But how?”
Gabriel stood behind her and placed his arms around her shoulders. “I posed for the artist and provided photographs of you.”