“I’m so tired,” she sniffled, resting her head on the pillow. She was even too tired to spoon.
“All you have to do is ask. I’d do anything for you. You know that.”
“I’m supposed to do this by myself.”
“Bullshit.” He placed an arm around her waist. “The program is designed to be grueling. Everyone else is probably getting help from someone.”
“You didn’t need help when you did it.”
“Think about what you’re saying. I was doing coke when I was in grad school. And I had P—someone to look after me.”
He sighed, lowering his voice. “You looked after me when I came home from the hospital. That’s probably when you fell behind. Let me help you catch up. But the first thing you need is a good night’s sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”
She was too weary to argue. Within minutes, her breathing deepened and Gabriel knew that she’d fallen asleep.
Chapter Fifty-five
That Saturday, Julia and Gabriel planned to spend most of the day in the library, researching her seminar papers. As a way of showing her appreciation, she prepared pancakes while he sat at the kitchen table, clad in his pajama pants and glasses, reading The Boston Globe.
She poured the batter onto a hot griddle before turning to him.
“There’s something I’ve been wondering.”
“And what’s that?”
“Will you tell me what you wrote in the card that you left at my apartment, back in Toronto?”
He lowered his newspaper.
“What card?”
“The one that didn’t survive my loss of temper.”
He pretended to search his memory.
“Oh, that card.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yes, that card.”
He folded the newspaper and put it aside. “Do you really want to know?”
“Of course.”
“But you tore it up.”
She gave him a look.
“I thought you forgave me.”
“I did.” He smiled ruefully. “It was a simple card. I apologized for being an ass.”
“That was nice,” she prompted. “What did you say?”
“I called you my Beatrice and said that I’d wished for you my whole life, even though I was convinced that you were a hallucination. I said that now that I’d found you, I’d fight to make you mine.”
Julia smiled to herself as she flipped the pancakes.
“And there might have been poetry.”
She looked over at him. “Might have been?”
“Shakespeare’s twenty-ninth sonnet. Do you know it?
“‘When in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed, Desiring this man’s art, and that man’s scope, With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising, Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate; For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings That then I scorn to change my state with kings.’”
Julia pressed her hand over her heart. “That’s beautiful, Gabriel. Thank you.”
“What’s even more beautiful is the fact that I don’t have to content myself with memories anymore. I have you.”
Julia quickly turned off the burner and moved the griddle from the heat.
“What are you doing?” Gabriel appeared puzzled.
She tossed the spatula aside.
“We’re having ripped-up-note-revealed sex. I’ve been waiting for this forever.” She grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the hall. “Come on.”
He planted his feet. “What kind of sex is that?”
“You’ll find out.” She gave him a saucy look and raced toward the stairs, the Professor at her heels.
Having spent a very long day conducting research, Gabriel and Julia returned to a dark house. Julia ordered pizza for dinner while Gabriel flipped through the Saturday mail.
He came across a blue envelope that was addressed to him in a spiky, unfamiliar hand. The return address was in New York City.
Intrigued, he opened the envelope and read, Dear Gabriel (if I may),
Recently, I was contacted by Michael Wasserstein, our family attorney, telling me that you were making inquiries about our father, Owen Davies. I was told that you wanted to learn more about his family history.
My name is Kelly Davies Schultz and I’m your half-sister. We also have a younger sister, Audrey.
I always wanted a brother. I mention this because I feel badly about how my mother and sister behaved with respect to our father’s will and I want you to know that I was not a party to contesting it. At the time, I wanted to write to you to tell you so, but my mother was being difficult and I decided not to antagonize her. I made the wrong decision.