Now his personality was muted. Quiet. Vulnerable.
She thought back to the time when she’d cared for the Professor while he was drunk. She’d helped him to his apartment and he’d vomited all over her.
(And his British racing green cashmere sweater.)
She remembered dragging him to the bathroom and cleaning him up. She ran her fingers through his hair, wondering what it would be like to have a baby to care for. At the time, such musings seemed so remote, so unattainable.
Gazing down on the handsome face of her beloved husband, she knew that something inside her was shifting. Something had changed.
“How is he?” Rebecca eyed Julia with concern as she entered the kitchen the following afternoon.
Julia placed a tray on the counter. “He’s asleep. He says he’s uncomfortable, but he wouldn’t take his pain pills until I threatened him.”
Rebecca laughed. “How did you do that?”
Julia placed the dirty dishes in the sink. “I reminded him that the longer he took to heal, the longer he’d have to wait for sex. He grabbed the pill bottle out of my hand. I don’t think we’ll have trouble getting him to take his medication anymore.”
Rebecca shook her head, smothering a smile.
“Chicken soup for dinner with homemade rolls. How does that sound?” She moved to the stove, where she was simmering an entire chicken in a stockpot.
“Delicious. Thank you.”
“Will you need me to stay this weekend?”
“No. I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Julia looked at Rebecca with interest. “Would you do that?”
Rebecca placed the lid back on the stockpot. “Of course. I can be here whenever you need me, except during the holidays. And even then, if I had advance notice, I could work something out. It might sound silly, but I think of you two as family.”
“It isn’t silly. We think the same.” Julia leaned against the counter. “It’s so much easier when you’re here. Dirty clothing disappears and clean clothing appears in its place. There’s always food in the fridge or freezer and the house is immaculate. I’d never be able to do what you do.”
“Sure, you could. But you couldn’t be a student, too. You’d have to choose one or the other. Are your brother-in-law and his family still coming to visit?”
Rebecca wiped her hands on her apron and moved to the kitchen island. An iPad was propped up on a stand, like a cookbook. She opened the iCalendar application and scrolled through it, looking at the Emersons’ appointments.
“No. Between my ultrasound and Gabriel’s surgery, we decided it would be best if they came after Christmas. We’ll be going home for Thanksgiving, anyway.” Julia winced in remembrance. “I thought I mentioned it. I’m sorry.”
Rebecca waved her hand in the air. “No problem. I’ll adjust the calendar.”
“I didn’t expect Gabriel to be so weak after his procedure. He insists he’s going to work tomorrow, but I don’t see how he can. He’s in pain.”
“Men make the worst patients. They don’t take their medication, they don’t do what they’re told, and they never, ever admit they’re sick. They’re like cats.”
Julia chuckled. “I’ll remember that.”
“In fact, it’s probably easier to give a pill to a cat than to a man. Then again, a man can’t scratch you.”
Now Julia was laughing.
“It’s a good thing he’s upstairs. He’d be cross with us for comparing him to a cat.”
Rebecca winked. “Meow.”
Chapter Forty-nine
The week following Gabriel’s surgery, he was almost back to his old self. Except that he was grumpy and cross because of the lack of sex.
(One might observe that being grumpy and cross was precisely his old self.) Julia bore his grumpiness as she usually did, with saintlike good humor. Of course, the fact that she was getting regular orgasms courtesy of her husband might have had something to do with her mood.
“There’s a letter from Katherine.” Gabriel waved in the direction of the kitchen table, where the day’s mail was stacked.
Julia picked up the small white envelope. Sure enough, the letter was from Professor Katherine Picton of All Souls College, Oxford.
“She’s still in England. I would have thought she’d be back in Toronto by now.”
Gabriel pulled up a chair and began going through the rest of the mail, hoping that there wouldn’t be any surprises among it.
“She’s a fellow at All Souls for the year. Open it and see what she says.”
Julia put on her glasses, opened the envelope, and began to read.
Dear Gabriel and Julianne,
I hope that this letter finds you both well.
Oxford is enjoyable and I’m pleased with the research I’ve been able to accomplish. I look back fondly to the conference this past summer and hope to see you soon.
I mentioned this before, but Greg Matthews has invited me to give a series of lectures at Harvard at the end of January. I’m told he’s also invited Jeremy Martin to give a paper.