She swept her hair behind her ears. Grace’s earrings were hidden in the back of her underwear drawer with a few other precious things, in her apartment. She knew that putting them away, although it seemed necessary when he left, had injured Gabriel deeply.
They’d wounded each other, and both were in need of forgiveness and healing. But Julia couldn’t decide what path would be the best one to take in order for her to mend. The obvious choices in life aren’t always the correct ones.
When she finally came downstairs, Rebecca was cleaning up the kitchen and Gabriel was in the garden. She found him sitting in a chair under the shade of a large umbrella.
“Are you all right?” she asked, for his eyes were closed.
He opened his eyes and smiled. “I am now. Join me?” He extended his hand, and she took it, settling herself in the chair adjacent to him.
“That color suits you,” he said, appraising her yellow dress with unconcealed delight.
“Thank you for going shopping.”
“What would you like to do today?”
Julia tugged the hem of her dress to cover her knees. “I think we should finish our conversation.”
He nodded, silently renewing his prayer. He didn’t want to lose her. And he knew that her reaction to the next part of his story might bring about just that.
“I know you remember our conversation in the hallway, after the hearing. When John was rude to you, I wanted to break off his finger and feed it to him.”
“Why?”
“I don’t think you comprehend the depth of my feeling for you. It goes beyond wanting to be near you, or to protect you. I want you to be happy, and I want you to be treated you with respect.”
“You can’t break off people’s fingers when they’re rude to me.”
He made a show of stroking his chin thoughtfully. “I suppose not. What can I do? Strike them with the collected works of Shakespeare?”
“In one sturdy volume? Of course.”
They shared a laugh before falling silent for a moment.
“I wanted to communicate what had happened behind closed doors, but I was ordered not to talk to you. That’s why I spoke in code. Except I stupidly quoted Abelard, forgetting that you and I had different interpretations of his relationship with Héloise. I should have quoted Dante, Shakespeare, Milton, anyone.” He shook his head.
“You were so angry. You accused me of fucking you. Julianne…” Gabriel’s voice broke as he pronounced her name. “Did you really think so lowly of me? To think that was how I would choose to say good-bye?”
Julia looked away, avoiding the intensity of his gaze. “What was I supposed to think? You wouldn’t talk to me. You left the next morning without leaving a note. And then at the hearing, suddenly it was over.”
“I didn’t trust myself to speak with words. When I made love to you, I thought you understood what I was trying to say—that we’re one. That we’ve always been one.”
“You were talking about our conversation in the hallway after the hearing,” she prompted, eager to change the subject. “I don’t understand how they could have forced you to leave the city.”
“They couldn’t, really. Jeremy simply wanted my word that I’d stop seeing you.”
She folded her arms in front of her. “Then why did you leave?”
“Jeremy discovered I broke my promise before we exited the building. He demanded I break things off with you and swear on my honor that I would stay away from you. I’d already told him I’d do anything if he helped us. I had no choice.”
Julia thought back to her exit interview with the Dean and Professor Martin, just before graduation. “Why did Jeremy think you broke your promise? You wouldn’t talk to me or answer my messages. You sent me an email telling me it was over.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I’d hoped you’d read between the lines and realize it was just for the administration. I’d sent you another email before that from my Gmail account, saying it was only temporary.”
“No, you didn’t.”
He retrieved his phone. Scrolling through a few screens, he settled on something. Then he fixed distressed and haunted eyes on hers.
“After the hearing, I ducked into the men’s room and quickly sent you an email.” He gently took her hand. “Here,” he said, giving her the phone.
Julia quickly glanced at the screen.
Beatrice, I love you. Never doubt that. Trust me, please. G.
She blinked several times, trying to assimilate what she saw typed in black and white with what she’d experienced. “I don’t understand. I didn’t receive this.”
Gabriel gave her a tortured expression. “I know.”
She looked at the screen again and saw that the date and time of the email corresponded with Gabriel’s story. But the addressee of the email was not her. In fact, the actual recipient was someone entirely different.
J.H. Martin.
Julia’s eyes widened as the magnitude of Gabriel’s error suddenly became very, very clear. Instead of sending the email to Julianne H. Mitchell, he’d sent it to Jeremy H. Martin, the Chair of the Department of Italian Studies.