Gabriel stood in front of the stone angels, their twin forms positioned like sentries on either side of the memorial. The angels were made of marble, their skin white and perfect. They faced him, wings spread wide, with a name etched on the marker that sat between them.
The monument reminded him of the memorials in Santa Croce, in Florence. The likeness was intentional, since this monument was crafted after his own design.
As he regarded the angels, he thought back to his time in Italy, of his volunteer work with the Franciscans. Of his experience next to St. Francis’s crypt. Of his separation from Julianne.
If only he could wait until July first, there would be the possibility of reunion. But Gabriel wasn’t sure that she’d forgive him. He wasn’t sure anyone would forgive him, but he had to try.
He reached into his pocket and retrieved his cell phone, dialing a number from the contact list.
“Gabriel?”
He took a deep breath. “Paulina. I need to see you.”
“What’s wrong?”
He turned his back on the monument, somehow unable to speak to her while staring at the name that was carved in stone.
“I just need to see you for an hour, to talk. Can we meet tomorrow?”
“I’m in Minnesota. What’s this about?”
“I’ll fly to Minneapolis tonight. Can we meet?” He was insistent, his voice tense and thin.
She sighed heavily. “Fine. Let’s meet at a Caribou Coffee tomorrow morning. I’ll email the address.”
She paused, and Gabriel could hear her fidgeting in the background.
“You’ve never flown across country to talk to me.”
He clenched his teeth. “No, I haven’t.”
“Our last conversation wasn’t exactly pleasant. You left me outside your building, crying.”
“Paulina.” His tone was slightly pleading.
“Then you cut off all contact.”
Gabriel began to pace, the phone pressed tightly to his ear.
“I did. And then what happened?”
She was quiet for a moment.
“I went home.”
He stopped pacing.
“You should have gone home years ago, and I should have encouraged you to do it.”
Silence reverberated between them.
“Paulina?”
“This is going to hurt, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know,” he confessed. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”
He ended the call and hung his head before returning to the grave of their child.
Paulina was nervous. She’d been utterly humiliated during her confrontation with Gabriel in the lobby of the Manulife Building. Acutely aware of her dependence on prescription sleep aids and alcohol, along with her dependence on her trust fund, she did what she’d sworn she would never do. She went home.
She found a job. She moved into a modest but nice apartment. Even more incredibly, she met someone. Someone kind and loving, who wanted her and only her. Someone who would never look at another woman for the length of their relationship, and possibly, beyond.
Now Gabriel wanted to talk, in person.
Paulina loved Gabriel. But she also feared him. He’d been elusive and unattainable, even when she was pregnant and they’d lived together. There was always a part of him that he would never let her touch. She knew it. She accepted it. But she never liked it and she always felt his distance hanging over her, like a dark cloud that might pour rain at any moment.
In the aftermath of their final confrontation, she realized he would never love her. She’d thought that Gabriel was simply incapable of love. But when she heard him speak about Julianne, it became clear that he was capable of loving someone and being faithful. How tragic that the woman he was capable of loving was someone other than her.
Once she accepted it, a degree of freedom accompanied the inevitable pain and longing. She was no longer a slave trying to win her master’s affection. She was no longer someone with limited aspirations, putting her future on hold in order to keep herself available for him.
As she entered the Caribou Coffee shop, she felt strong for the first time in years. It would be difficult to see him but she’d made so much progress in other areas of her life, surely she could make progress in her relationship with him.
She found him sitting at a table for two in the back of the shop, his long fingers wrapped around a coffee mug. He was wearing a jacket and a button-down shirt but no tie. His trousers were clean and pressed and his hair was tidy. He was wearing his glasses, which surprised her, since he only wore them while reading.
When he saw her, he stood.
“Can I buy you a coffee?” He offered her a restrained smile.
“Yes, please.” She smiled in return but felt awkward. In the past he’d usually greeted her with a kiss, but now he maintained a polite, proper distance.
“Still taking your coffee with skim milk and sweetener?”
“That’s right.”