(And she would have said you could quote her.)
Since she wanted more information about Professor Emerson’s fiancée, she feigned interest in a spring rendezvous with Professor Pacciani and subtly asked for the fiancée’s name. Then she went downstairs and finished off the rest of the champagne.
* * *
The day before Christmas found Julia sitting at the counter of Kinfolks restaurant in Selinsgrove, having lunch with her father. Gabriel was doing some last minute shopping with Richard while Rachel and Aaron drove to the grocery store to pick up the turkey. Scott was still in Philadelphia with his girlfriend.
Tom had faithfully delivered Julia’s gift from Paul. She’d placed it on the floor at her feet, and now it was staring up at her, begging for attention like a puppy.
She opened it, deciding it was better to display its contents to her father than to her boyfriend. She gave the bottle of maple syrup to Tom with a smile, she giggled at the toy Holstein and kissed it, but when she unwrapped the Dante and Beatrice figurines her face grew pale. It was almost as if Paul knew. And yet, he couldn’t have known that Gabriel and Julia were Dante and Beatrice, at least to each other.
While Tom ate his blue plate special—turkey with stuffing and mashed potatoes—Julia opened Paul’s card. It displayed children engaged in a snowball fight and the typical Merry Christmas emblazoned on the front. But it was the words that Paul wrote in his own hand that brought a lump to her throat.
Merry Christmas, Rabbit.
I know it was a rough first semester and I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job of helping you when you needed it. I’m proud of you for not quitting. With a big Vermont hug
from your friend, Paul.
P.S. I don’t know if you’ve heard Sarah McLachlan’s “Wintersong,” but part of it made me think of you.
Julia didn’t know the song that he was referring to, so the lyrics he omitted did not run through her mind as she examined the card’s artwork more closely. In the center of the image of a snowball fight stood a little girl with long, dark hair in a bright red coat, laughing.
The quotation, the picture, the card, the gift—Paul had tried to keep his feelings secret, she thought, but he’d betrayed himself. It was all in the picture of the laughing girl and the song that she would listen to later.
Julia sighed and placed everything back in the box and set it at her feet.
“So, Gabriel treating you right?” Tom broached the topic of Julia’s relationship in between bites of turkey.
“He loves me, Dad. He’s very good to me.”
Her father shook his head as he reflected on how Simon had had the appearance of being good and Gabriel had the reality of being good—and how he had failed to recognize the difference.
“You let me know if he isn’t,” he said, tasting the mashed potatoes.
Julia almost rolled her eyes. Yes, it was a bit late for Tom to play the part of the overprotective father, but better late than not at all.
“When Gabriel and I drove into town this morning we went by the house. I saw the sign on the lawn.”
Tom wiped his mouth on a napkin. “I put it up for sale a couple of weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“Why not? I can’t live in a place where my daughter doesn’t feel safe.”
“But you grew up in that house. What about you and Deb?”
He shrugged and hid his expression behind a cup of coffee. “It’s over.”
She gasped. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
Tom sipped his coffee stoically. “We had a difference of opinion. And her kids don’t like me.”
Julia fidgeted with her silverware, lining them up so their ends were even.
“So Deb sided with Natalie and Simon?”
He shrugged again.
“It was a long time coming. Truth is, I’m relieved. It feels good to be a free agent.” He winked at her conspiratorially.
“I’m looking to buy a smaller house. I’d like to use some of the money I make to pay for your education.”
Julia was surprised. Then she was angry. Her conflict with him had cost her and her father so much—too much to be remedied by a criminal record and some community service. She was scarred and her father lost his prospective wife and the Mitchell family home.
“Dad, you should use the money for your retirement.”
“I’m sure there will be enough for everything. And if you don’t want to use my money for school, then use it to buy beer. From now on, it’s just you and me kid.” He reached out a hand to ruffle Julia’s hair, his preferred gesture of affection.
He excused himself to use the men’s room, leaving her alone to contemplate her half-eaten cheeseburger and her changed father. She was deep in thought, fingering the glass of ginger ale in front of her, when someone moved to occupy the stool next to her.
“Hello, Jules.”