She reached up to press their lips together. “Thank you.”
They continued walking through the museum, stopping to admire some of the items on display. When they stopped in front of a panel that displayed a medieval painting of St. Lucy, Julia was reminded of Rachel.
“Your sister sent me an email. She asked how my paper went.”
“Is she pregnant?”
“She didn’t say. If she isn’t, it’s not for lack of trying.”
Gabriel wrinkled his nose. “I don’t need that kind of image.”
“I’m sure Rachel doesn’t need that kind of image of you, either. But she was almost as happy as me when we consummated our relationship.”
“I find that hard to believe,” he whispered, pulling her into his arms in a dark corner.
“She said she’s looking forward to visiting us in Cambridge Labor Day weekend.”
“Quiet, now. I’m trying to kiss you.”
Julia laughed. “Just a minute. I’m not done.”
“Hurry up,” he pouted, bringing his lips to within an inch of hers.
“This is important.” She gave him a scolding look. “Rachel and Aaron would like us to light a candle for them in Assisi. They want us to pray that they’ll have a baby.”
“I think Richard’s prayers would be more efficacious than mine. Although I’m still praying for one more thing.”
Gabriel couldn’t hide the brightness of hope that shone in his eyes, as if his unanswered prayer were a treasure that he desperately desired.
Julia noted the change but said nothing. She’d just celebrated her triumphal coming out into academic society the day before. Now Gabriel was hinting at having a child. Somehow the hope in his eyes made her discomfort all the more painful.
The light in his eyes dimmed.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” He released her from his arms.
“Like what?”
“Like you’re repulsed by me.”
“I’m not repulsed.” She forced a smile.
“Is the thought of having a child with me so repulsive?” Gabriel’s features hardened.
“Of course not.” She wound their fingers together. “It’s difficult for me to think about children when I’d rather focus on conference presentations and grad school.”
“It isn’t an either-or proposition, Julianne. I’d never make you sacrifice your dreams. I think I’ve demonstrated that ably enough.” His voice was glacial.
“As you may recall, your sacrifice caused us both a great deal of pain.”
“Point taken.” He released her hand and gestured to the hallway. “Shall we?”
“Gabriel.” She placed a light hand on his arm. “I told you before we were married that the thought of having little blue-eyed boys with you made me happy. It still does.”
“Then why can’t we talk about it? God, Julianne. If we were going to go to Africa, we’d talk about it. If we were going to build a house, we’d talk about it. Why can’t we talk about having a child?”
“Because I can’t say no to you, not when you look so happy and hopeful.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I can’t bear to be the one standing between you and your dreams, like a coldhearted wench.”
“Darling,” he murmured, sweeping her into a tight embrace. “Nothing could be further from my mind.”
His hand found the skin of her neck, underneath her hair, and he stroked it tenderly.
“This isn’t the best place to have this conversation, but I promise I don’t think of you that way. I told you I’d wait. I understand you want to finish your program. Watching you yesterday, I don’t know when I’ve been more proud of you. You were fantastic.” He pressed his lips to just below her ear. “When I bring up the subject of a family, I swear I’m not trying to pressure you. I’m simply bringing up a topic that makes me happy, hoping that it will make you happy too. We can talk about the future and make plans without changing our time line. Starting a family is a momentous decision, especially given our backgrounds. I know that you’ve given the matter some thought. I’m simply asking that we talk about it. But we certainly don’t need to talk about it now. I’m sorry for bringing it up on the heels of your lecture. Just promise me we’ll talk about it someday, even if it’s in the most general of terms.”
“Of course, Gabriel. It’s just that the topic makes me anxious.”
“Then I need to do a better job of bringing up the subject and not springing it on you. But I don’t want to hear you refer to yourself as either coldhearted or a wench ever again.” He pulled back to make eye contact with her. “Neither of those ascriptions applies to you, and I certainly won’t have anyone speak about my wife that way.”
She nodded.
“Good.” He took her hand and began walking. “Now, as I recall, you were telling me about Rachel’s email.”
“Her exact words were, ‘I’m calling in all my chips. I’ve got Christians, Muslims, Jews, and even a Zoroastrian praying.’”