“Not a very good allegory for marriage.”
“No, it isn’t.” He swallowed noisily. “Julia, even though some of your sexual experiences were traumatic, you can still have a fulfilling sexual life. I want you to know that you’re safe when you’re in my arms. I don’t want you to do anything you don’t enjoy, and that includes o**l s*x.”
Gabriel wrapped an arm around her waist, watching the hot water as it traveled over their naked bodies before splashing to the tile at their feet. “We’ve only been sleeping together for a week. We have our whole lives to love each other, in multiple ways.”
He silently and lovingly soaped the nape of her neck and across her shoulders with a sponge. Then he traced the lines of her shoulders and the individual bumps of her spine, pausing regularly to place his lips where the soap had been rinsed away.
He washed her lower back and the two little dimples that marked the transition to her backside. Without hesitation, he soaped each cheek and massaged the backs of her legs. He even washed her feet, grasping her hand and placing it on his shoulder to steady her as he soaped between her toes.
Julia had never felt more cared for in her life.
He attended the front of her neck and the slope of her shoulders. He washed and caressed her br**sts with his hands, putting the sponge to one side as he kissed them. Then he was gently touching between her legs, not sexually but reverently, rinsing the suds that accumulated among her dark curls and finally pressing his mouth there as well.
When he was finished, he took her into his arms and kissed her like a shy teenager, chastely and simply. “You are teaching me to love, and I suppose I’m teaching you to love too, in a way. We aren’t perfect, but we can have happiness. Can’t we?” He pulled back so he could read her eyes.
“Yes,” she murmured, her eyes filled with tears.
Gabriel clutched her to his heart and buried his face in her neck as the water rained down on them.
* * *
Emotionally exhausted, Julianne slept until noon the following day. Gabriel had been so kind, so loving. He’d foregone what Julia had always thought was a man’s basic need—oral sex—and given her what could only be described as a cleansing of shame. Gabriel’s love and acceptance had its intended, transformative effect.
As she opened her eyes, she felt lighter, stronger, happier. Carrying the secrets of how he humiliated her had proved to be a very heavy burden. With the weight of guilt lifted, she felt like a new person.
She thought it was probably blasphemous to compare her experience with that of Christian in The Pilgrim’s Progress, but she saw an important resemblance between their respective deliverances. Truth sets one free, but love casts out fear.
In her twenty-three years, Julia hadn’t realized how pervasive grace was and how Gabriel, who considered himself to be a very great sinner, could be a conduit of that grace. This was part of the divine comedy—God’s sense of humor undergirding the inner workings of the universe. Sinners participated in the redemption of other sinners; faith, hope, and charity triumphed over disbelief, despair, and hatred, while the One who called all creatures to Himself watched and smiled.
Chapter 6
Gabriel awoke in the middle of their last night in Umbria to an empty bed. Dazed, in a semi-dreamlike state, he extended his arm to Julianne’s side. The sheets held no warmth.
He swung his legs to the floor, wincing as his bare feet touched the cold stone. He pulled on a pair of boxer shorts and made his way downstairs, scratching at his bed-mussed hair. The light was on in the kitchen, but no Julianne. A half-drunk glass of cranberry juice sat on the counter next to a remnant of cheese and a crust of bread. It looked as if a mouse had been there for a nocturnal feeding but had been surprised and scurried off.
Walking into the living room, he saw a dark head resting on the arm of an overstuffed chair next to the fireplace. In sleep, Julianne looked younger and very peaceful. Her skin was pale, but her cheeks and lips had a rosy hue. Gabriel would have loved to compose a poem about her mouth and resolved to do so. In fact, her appearance reminded him of Frederick Leighton’s Flaming June. She was clad only in an elegant ivory silk nightgown. One of the thin straps had fallen off her right shoulder, leaving the beautiful curve bare.
Gabriel couldn’t help himself as the pale, smooth skin called out to him. He kissed her shoulder and crouched near her head, floating a hand over her hair and petting her softly.
She stirred and opened her eyes, blinking twice before smiling at him.
Her slow, sweet smile set his heart aflame. He actually felt his breathing speed. He’d never felt this way about anyone before, and the depth of feeling she drew from him consistently surprised him.
“Hi,” he whispered, smoothing her hair away from her face. “Are you all right?”
“Of course.”
“I was worried when I reached for you and you weren’t there.”