“Franny reads this book and it troubles her. That’s where I first heard about it.”
“What’s it about?” She picked up the book, glancing at the back cover.
“It’s about a Russian Orthodox man who tries to learn what it means to pray without ceasing.”
Julia arched an eyebrow. “And?”
“And I’m reading it to discover what he learned.”
“Are you praying for something?”
He rubbed at his chin. “I’m praying for a good many things.”
“Such as?”
“For me to become a good man, a good husband, and, someday, a good father.”
She smiled a little and looked at the book again. “I suppose we’re all on our own spiritual journeys.”
“Some of us are further along than others.”
She put the book down and climbed into his lap. “I don’t think of it that way. I think we chase God until He catches us.”
Gabriel chuckled. “Like The Hound of Heaven?”
“Something like that.”
“One of the things I admire most about you is your compassion for human frailty.”
“I have my own vices, Gabriel. They’re just hidden.”
She looked around the room, noting the vacuum marks in the carpet and the freshly dusted furniture. The air smelled of lemon and pine.
“The house looks great. Thank you for finding someone else to clean it. I was able to get a lot of work done today.”
“Good.” He looked at her over the rims of his glasses. “How are you feeling?”
“Much better. Thanks for making dinner.” She rested her head on his shoulder.
“You weren’t hungry when I brought it up to you.” He ran his fingers through her hair.
“I finished it eventually. I ran into a problem with my paper, so I had trouble stopping long enough to eat.”
“Can I help?” He removed his glasses, resting them on top of his book.
“No. I don’t want people thinking that you’re the brains behind my research.”
“That wasn’t what I was offering.” Gabriel sounded offended.
“I need to do this myself.”
He sniffed. “I think you worry a little too much about what other people think.”
“I have to,” she said sharply. “If I present a paper that sounds like you wrote it, people will notice. Christa Peterson has already been spreading rumors about us. Paul told me.”
Gabriel scowled. “Christa is a jealous bitch. She’s going backward in her career, not forward. Columbia made her enroll in the M.Phil program in Italian. They wouldn’t admit her directly into their PhD. I’ve already spoken to the head of her department at Columbia. She slanders us at her peril.” He shifted in his chair. “And when were you speaking to Paul?”
“He emailed me after the conference he went to at UCLA. That’s where he saw Christa and heard the rumors she was spreading.”
“You haven’t even let me read your paper. Although we’ve discussed Guido so much I’m sure I know what you’ll say.”
Julia chewed on the edge of her thumbnail but said nothing.
He hugged her more closely.
“Has my book been helpful?”
“Yes, but I’m taking a different tack,” she hedged.
“That can be a double-edged sword, Julianne. Originality is admired, but sometimes established methods are established for a reason.”
“I’ll let you read it tomorrow, if you have time.”
“Of course I’ll have time.” He began rubbing her back, up and down. “In fact, I’m looking forward to it. My goal is to help you, not hurt you. You know that, right?”
“Of course.” She kissed him again before burrowing against his chest. “I just worry about what you’ll think.”
“I’ll be honest, but supportive. I promise.”
“That’s the best I can hope for.” She smiled up at him. “Now I need you to take me to bed and cheer me up.”
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “What would cheering you up entail?”
“Taking my mind off my troubles by tantalizing me with your naked body.”
“What if I’m not ready for bed?”
“Then I guess I’ll have to go to bed by myself. And maybe cheer myself up.” She stood and stretched, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.
In a flash he was behind her, scooping her into his arms and racing for the stairs.
Chapter Three
You can’t present this.” Gabriel strode into the study the following afternoon, clutching a printout of Julia’s lecture.
She looked up from her laptop in horror. “Why not?”
“You’re wrong.” He set the pages down and pulled off his glasses, tossing them on top of her desk. “St. Francis comes for the soul of Guido da Montefeltro after he dies. We discussed this. You agreed with me.”
Julia crossed her arms defensively.
“I changed my mind.”
“But it’s the only interpretation that makes sense!”
She swallowed hard, shaking her head.
He began to pace in front of her desk.
“We talked about this in Belize. I sent you an illustration of the scene while we were separated, for God’s sake! Now you’re going to stand in front of a room full of people and say that it never happened?”