He’d forgotten how time consuming it was to have company. He’d never entertained more than one or two people at a time, and then only with the support of a housekeeper and a bank account that permitted him to take his guests out for meals.
Poor Julianne. Gabriel recalled his own years at Harvard: how vacations were never true holidays since there was always work to do, languages to learn, and exams to prepare for.
He was relieved to be tenured. He wouldn’t trade places with Julia for anything. Especially since he’d coped with the pressures of grad school by drinking, doing cocaine and P—
Gabriel stumbled, pitching forward as the toe of his shoe caught on the sidewalk. He righted himself quickly and regained his stride, forcing himself to concentrate on his steps.
He didn’t like to think about his years at Harvard. Since his move back to Cambridge, he’d experienced drug flashbacks so vivid, he would swear he could feel the cocaine entering his nostrils. He’d drive down a street or enter a building on the Harvard campus and feel a craving that was so sharp it was painful.
Thus far, with the grace of God, he’d resisted. Certainly, his weekly Narcotics Anonymous meetings had helped, as had his monthly appointments with his therapist.
And then, of course, there was Julianne.
If Gabriel found his higher power in Assisi last year, Julianne was his guardian angel. She loved him, inspired him, made his house a home. But he could not shake the fear that Heaven had smiled on him only to bide its time before snatching her away.
Gabriel had changed in myriad ways since Julianne was his student. But he had yet to abandon his belief that he was not worthy of sustained happiness. As his therapist had warned, Gabriel had a pattern of self-sabotage.
His adoptive mother, Grace, had died of cancer almost two years previous. Her untimely death symbolized the shortness and uncertainty of life. If he were to lose Julianne . . .
If you had a child with her, you’d never lose her.
A still, small voice spoke in his ear.
Gabriel quickened his pace. The voice was right, but it didn’t express his primary motivation for wanting a baby with Julianne. He wanted a family that included children—a life filled with laughter and the knowledge that he could right the wrongs done by his own parents.
He’d kept his internal struggles from his wife. She was burdened with her own concerns and he was loath to add to them. She’d worry about his addictions and his fears, and he’d already given her too much anguish.
While Gabriel jogged the familiar circuit of his old neighborhood, he began to wonder why she’d been so dispirited this morning. They’d spent an incredible night together, celebrating their love in the orchard and later, in bed. He racked his brain, trying to figure out if he’d done something to hurt her. But their lovemaking had been, as usual, both passionate and tender.
There was at least one other possibility, and Gabriel cursed himself for not having thought of it sooner. Julianne always carried with her a degree of anxiety about being back in Selinsgrove. A year and a half ago, her ex-boyfriend, Simon, had broken into her father’s home and assaulted her. Subsequently, his current girlfriend, Natalie, had confronted Julia at a local diner, threatening to release lewd pictures of her if she didn’t withdraw her assault complaint.
Julianne had convinced Natalie that it was not in her interest to release the pictures, since they’d implicate Simon, as well. His father was a U.S. senator who was running for president, and Natalie was working for his campaign.
At the time, Gabriel kept his doubts about Julia’s success to himself. He knew that once a person acquired a taste for blackmail, he or she would keep trying to draw from that well.
Gabriel cursed again, now running at a punishing rate of speed. He’d never told Julia what he’d done. He didn’t want to do so now. But if she was worrying about Simon and Natalie, then perhaps it was time to tell her the truth . . .
When Gabriel returned from his run, Julia was sleeping. He chuckled, noticing that her bare feet were sticking out from under the covers. Julia didn’t like it when her feet grew hot and so she’d bare them to the air while snuggled under several blankets.
Leaning over, he tucked the covers around her feet and walked to the shower. After he dressed he checked on her, but she was still asleep. He hurried down the stairs, grabbing her lists from the kitchen and heading to the Range Rover. With any luck, he’d be able to complete the shopping and secure a maid before she awoke.
At eleven o’clock that evening, Julia finally descended the stairs from the second floor. She found Gabriel seated in the living room, reading. He was in a leather club chair, his feet resting on a footstool, his eyes moving behind his glasses.
“Why, hello there.” He greeted her with a smile, closing his book.
“What are you reading?”
He showed her the cover. The Way of a Pilgrim.
“Is it good?”
“Very. Did you ever read J.D. Salinger’s Franny and Zooey?”
“A long time ago. Why?”