“I seem to recall hearing you quote that before. But can you really stop Christa from gossiping about us?”
Gabriel looked at her in resignation. “I don’t know. But given her behavior at the conference, I had to try.”
Chapter Twenty
July 2011
Minneapolis, Minnesota
Paulina Gruscheva’s handwriting was bold and sophisticated, like the woman herself. She wrote with a Montblanc fountain pen, the black ink flowing in curved flourishes over the expensive cream-colored envelope.
She’d had to look up his address. Miraculously, he was in the Cambridge telephone book.
As she peered down at the letters and numbers she’d written, a smile of satisfaction spread across her beautiful features. Then she sealed the envelope and readied herself to take it to the post office.
He was going to be surprised.
Chapter Twenty-one
July 2011
Italy
Julia and Gabriel said good-bye to Katherine, Paul, and Oxford a few days after the conference. The last words exchanged with Paul were especially awkward. Julia knew her friend and consequently knew that something was wrong. But when she asked him about it, he merely referenced his anxiety over his dissertation.
When he hugged her good-bye, he held her tightly and a little too long. Julia said they’d stay in touch, and he nodded but didn’t agree. She excused his behavior by telling herself that he was simply being nostalgic about their friendship.
Gabriel distracted Katherine from noticing Paul’s exchange with Julia, trying to give them some privacy. He took no pleasure in seeing Paul’s discomfort, or the way he tried to appear happy and at ease for Julia’s sake.
The Emersons traveled to Rome, celebrating Gabriel’s birthday on the seventeenth of July with a special tour of the Vatican Museum. There was, however, a shocking lack of museum sex.
(Not even Gabriel was tempted to indulge himself with Julia inside the Vatican.)
They visited Assisi for a few days, where they prayed and lit candles at the crypt of St. Francis. Although Gabriel and Julia didn’t confess the content of their prayers, it was understood that they prayed for each other, for their marriage, and for the eventual gift of a child.
To these prayers, Julia added her own requests for wisdom and strength, while Gabriel asked for goodness and courage. Both of them prayed for Rachel and Aaron, asking that God would bless their attempts to have a baby.
So it was that they arrived at their house near Todi, an Umbrian village, at the end of July. The house was located near a mixed fruit tree orchard and boasted an enclosed pool that was bordered on one edge by lavender. The fragrant flowers perfumed the air, and Julia placed a few sprigs between the sheets of their bed.
When she awoke the next day, Gabriel was gone. With the sun high in the sky and shining in through the balcony windows she was not surprised by his absence, or by the coolness of the sheets on his side. Clutching his pillow, which still retained the scent of Aramis mingled with lavender, she found a handwritten note.
Good Morning, Darling.
You were sleeping too peacefully to awaken.
I’ve gone into Todi to pick up a few things from the market.
Call my cell phone if you need anything.
Love,
G.
PS. You’re breathtaking.
Julia smiled. It was a simple note, not unlike countless others he’d written for her. But in the bottom corner, almost as an afterthought, he’d sketched her. It was her profile while she slept, transposed into a small pencil drawing. Underneath it he’d written My Beatrice.
She hadn’t known that he had skill with a pencil, although his dexterity in other respects suggested a multiplicity of manual talents. The sketch was quite good. She wanted to frame it.
Still smiling, she swung her naked feet to the floor and walked gingerly to the closet. She didn’t feel like wearing clothes. So she took one of Gabriel’s dress shirts and put it on, buttoning only a few of the buttons before searching one of the dresser drawers for some socks.
From downstairs, she heard Gabriel’s voice calling. Enthusiastically, she sped down the stairs and toward the kitchen.
“Hello.” He kissed her forehead as he set the groceries on the counter. ”You look pretty.”
Hands free, he pecked first one cheek then the other before trapping her in his arms.
“Did you sleep well?” His lips moved against her hair.
“Very well. Between our stay in Assisi and last night, I think I’ve slept more than in months.” She pressed her mouth to his Adam’s apple, and he recoiled slightly as if she’d tickled him. “Thank you for the drawing.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I didn’t know you could draw.”
“Darling, I’d paint you if I could. With my fingers.”
“Stop teasing me, Professor. Every time I think of paint, I think of what we did on the floor back in Selinsgrove. And it gets me hot and bothered.” She pouted in jest.
“I’ll see to that later, I promise.” He released her from his arms, smiling slyly. “I like your socks.”
She looked down at her feet and flexed them.